Challenge 1, Part 5: Scenes from an Event Judging II

Tina

Tina is feeling pretty good about her chances. Her magic is on point, she has the sexiest costume, and she knows how to work it.

The event has been amusing, too. So many different people, yet so many Francises. It has been a fun guessing game to figure out what happened to any particular Francis. A few Francises were alone; they were obviously Masters that didn’t bother to bring a date. Some Francises looked reasonably normal and had escorts. Those were trickier; one had to pay attention to body language to figure out whether than Francis was a Master or a contestant. Some, like that **** metal Skye, had some unfortunate thing that Tina presumes is a Francis purely by the rules about judges. And some people didn’t have a Francis out at all.

Someone like the man that now stands before her.

“Tina? That you?”

“Sorry, I don’t recognize you. Do I know you?”

The man laughs. A snooty, snotty laugh.

“You were always a stupid bitch, Tina. Of course you remember good old Mortimer.”

Who?

“I’d think I would have remembered meeting a lame-ass moron with a name as dumb as Mortimer.”

That wiped the smug smirk of the asshole’s face. He makes a tight fist.

“You are lucky, you dumb slut, that there are rules against ****. Otherwise, I’d punch those foul words right out of your vocabulary.”

“Wow. Way to prove how big of a scumbag you are with the whole ‘**** against women’ shtick. Is there a reason you are bothering me?”

The smirk comes back. The asshole apparently had an idea.

“You still working for Bob the Magician? Gary the Gravy-Levitator? Magical Jasper?”

Creepy. My last three employers. Maybe he’s a stalker?

“Those eyes say it all,” Mortimer (the creep) gloats, “I guess I can forgive you being a stupid bitch since you probably haven’t met your ‘me’ yet. Mystical Mortimer, Master of the Magical Arts, at your service. I was to be your next -slash- final employer. You were so happy to have a boss that wasn’t a washed out drunk that you didn’t exactly read your contract. Our first Vegas show was to be your last. At least, your last as a free woman. Our time in the Hotel was so wonderful, at least for me.”

Nope. Way worse than a stalker.

“You, however, never really fulfilled your contract,” the magician continues to monologue, “You were supposed to willingly give up your deviant desires to lie with women and fall in love with me. Even when the show **** proper dick-loving upon you, you chose that asshole assigned to be your stupid fucking roommate over me. Me! Your Lord and Master! It was such a fucking waste when you were eliminated. I mean, look at those tits!”

He just keep talking and just keeps making himself worse.

“Where’s your Francis, asshole? I want him to make his judgment so you can get gone.”

“Still choosing him over me? Fine. I made sure his elimination was... special.”

Mortimer takes off his top hat and pulls out a – shudder – dove. A red feathered dove with cruelly clipped wing feathers. The vile creature bobs its head and coos. Mortimer shifts his hands and the dove can sort of stand. There is something in the way of it’s feet finding solid purchase. Something Tina recognizes. Ewwww.

“I know how much you hate birds, Tina. So, I had my Host turn your precious boyfriend into a whole flock of them. The Host thought it was funny to let the birds keep the human penis, so we did. Would you like to jack this one off? That’s what the other you gets to do all day, every day. Milk the bird-dicks so they don’t cum during performances. You obvious need the practice, considering how pent up your current owner looks.”

The dove continues to bob its head and coo.

“Get out.”

“What was that, you dumb bitch? I asked you a yes or no question. Are you that dumb?”

“Get. Out.” Tina gets louder, more forceful.

“Still not a yes or no. It’s only one syllable. You can do it.”

“GET! OUT! NOW!”

Calypso shimmies up behind this monster, pulls herself up to his eye-level, and taps him on the shoulder. She gives Mortimer her best, toothiest customer service smile, “The lady asked you to leave. Perhaps you should do so.”

Francis

Francis is becoming increasingly concerned. Most of the more sensible judges have finished, giving the more rowdy ones more space to harass the women below. The hotel staff have needed to intervene twice already. How many more of these incidents before his awful host does anything about it?

He hates being stuck up here, unable to help. But there is a certain advantage to meeting different versions of himself. Like the couple playfully bickering next in line.

A very, very pregnant Dinah hands him a business card. A lanky tomboy him whispers something in her ear. The two giggle.

“You must be Frankie. I... heard you exist? Care to share what’s funny.”

“Nope. Don’t want to hurt your fragile male ego.”

“Wow. And the Francis that told me about you made you sound nice.”

“Sorry. My sarcasm got cattier as I got more feminine. You might get there too.”

Turning to the pregnant doctor, he asks, “Congratulations on the upcoming baby, ma’am. I hope you met your counterpart down there. How’s she doing? Have any advice for me?”

“You know how she’s doing right now. Personally, I think you did the right thing last night and I know that, by the time your season’s over, she will agree. But that pain is going to take some time to heal. As far as advice goes, try to love all of them, as much as you can, as often as you can. Everything else will work itself out.”

Frankie whispers again. The two giggle again.

“Going to spare my male ego again? Won’t have it for too much longer, in the grand scheme of things.”

“Frankie replaced my suggestion to love them with a suggestion to bone them.”

“Great,” Francis rolls his eyes, “Changing the subject, how is your HIS affecting you? I didn’t read much more than the name of the condition, but...”

“Oh, I got a Master transformation to fix my infertility issue without any Harem Hotel side effects. Frankie got to deal with the weirdness.”

“Do I want to know?”

Frankie repeats herself, “Nope. Don’t want to hurt your fragile male ego.”

Sighing, Francis gives the couple a nod. “I’ll be sure to call you when the first baby’s on the way, Doc. And that baby WILL be on the way soon. Thanks for the advice. I’ll try to follow it.”

Indigo

Indigo stands around, thrusting her chest as forward as she thinks she can get away with. She has been asking every lady that comes up to her for sex, of course, but is otherwise just basking in her success. Granted, no one has taken her up on her offer (a really tall redhead with a scarred face and very pointy teeth even said, “Huh, first time I met someone too **** for my tastes. I normally like ****.”), but she’s sure to score soon enough.

And then her mood had to be ruined by her walking up. The one person she hates more than any other, even more than that veijito.

La Puta Reina. Long black hair cascading down her perfect ivory skin. A white and sky blue uniform hugging her perfect curves. Black thigh high boots. Her smirk. Her train of identical round-bodied penguin mascots in little sailor suits rolling around behind her.

“Hello, Añil,” La Puta Reina greets, ice water flowing through her words. The way this zorra intentionally mispronounces my name to sound like “anal” just... ugh!

Needing to play nice with this mujerzuela, Indigo puts on her biggest, fakest smile and responds, “Hello, Gwendolyn. Nice to see you again.”

“You have somehow missed a layer of your costume, Añil. Can you go one day without being an embarrassment to the company?”

“I’ll have you know, Gwendolyn, that my wardrobe issue is a result of a transformation. I’m sure your Master is well aware of them. If you would just direct him to...”

“I was the Mistress of my own season, Añil, not a **** like you. Your work here is cheap, pedestrian. Just as expected of you. Are you even capable of thinking beyond tawdry displays of whoredom? Somehow, even the work of the naked girl hiding behind her doll has more artistic merit than this and, as far as I can tell, she didn’t do anything.”

“Well, if you were a Mistress, where is your Francis, huh? You were required to...”

La Puta Reina points to the penguins behind her, “It’s one of them. Since all of my eliminated slaves are absolutely identical, I just brought them all. My you is in there as well.”

What?

La Puta Reina smirks even wider at my hesitancy. “That’s right,” she continues to goad, “My you. These events are always interesting because it allows Masters to bond over shared experiences. I am pretty unique as far as it goes. It seems most Masters of a contestant Francis have him eliminated first. My Francis was, initially, quite accommodating. It probably helps that he was a fan instead of a former teacher. He had all the makings of a good consort, especially once those transformations started working their magic. Then, in Week 8, his side-girl was eliminated and he got rather averse to my advances. A disappointment. No, my first elimination was... you. You are stupid and loud and obnoxious and way too horny for your own good. You didn’t even last a full week. My Francis didn’t shed a tear when you were turned into a Pengi. None of my contestants did. I wonder what fate this game has in store for you, my dear Añil.”

“Vete a la mierda, Puta Chupapollas.”

“Oh, I love it when you curse in Spanish. Almost makes you sound like you’re more that Minnesotan cheese gutter trash. Almost. Not quite.”

“Espero que te mueras de envenenamiento por plomo por un consolador que te metió tan por el culo que te cagué pedazos de pintura”

“Oooh, that was a mouthful. Well, at least I can take heart that your me will have a much better life now that you are here. She can use that money she stowed away to forcibly buy you out of your portion of the company on something more productive, like, say, a yacht.”

What!?!?

Trying to go for the kill shot, she smirks and responds, “Oh, yes. I’ve been saving to buy you out. But alas, we have to run a company valuation audit right before the vote and the value of your share always seems to increase faster than I could scrimp. The unfortunate consequences of our success. I never really thought to ask the other company owners to pitch in. We would have been rid of you way sooner if everyone that would **** you to take the buy-out saved for it. None of the other owners can stand you. In fact, I’d say that, outside of maybe one or two people, no one at the company can stand you. So, stop being a blight on the multiverse and just be eliminated. You deserve it.”

With that, La Puta Reina spins on her heels 180 degrees and struts away. Her train of Pengis follow along. And Indigo slumps down to her knees, utterly defeated.

Scarlet

“Looks like the party’s starting to die down, huh Scarlet?”

Of all the people Scarlet could have ran into, she didn’t expect Heidi. On the other hand, perhaps she should have.

“Heidi ho, neighborino.”

“I always hated that greeting you picked up from Alex.”

“She really worked hard on her Ned Flanders impression.”

“I know.”

A long pause passes as the two women, separated by different dimensions, stare at each other. This Heidi filled out nicely after whatever episode Scarlet watched with Francis. Her hair turned honey blonde, her breasts increased by like 2 cup sizes, her hips and ass grew to give her the perfect hourglass figure. Her long, black dress hugs her new curves in just the right places.

Finally, Heidi speaks again, “So, do you want to escape? You don’t deserve this. And that... thing sitting up there definitely doesn’t deserve you. Perhaps my host and your host could arrange a swap?”

Escape, huh? Abandon Tina, Dinah, Josie, and the others? To go into probably the same fucked up situation with a different dimension’s version of someone I haven’t spoken to in years? Would I really want that?

Perhaps sensing her hesitation, Heidi offers, “Oh, I’m not suggesting forcing you into my harem. I, frankly, have too many people in it now. It would be nice to date someone not mystically bound to me for all eternity, you know?”

“Too many people in your harem, and your solution is to date me on the side? What happens to your ‘extra’ harem members?”

“Mind you, the situation is different from harem to harem, from what I can tell. I’m in a book club with some of the other Masters that had my Host for their season. We talk, drink wine, maybe get a little frisky, you know, book club stuff. Some of their extras just become sad, embracing more and more despair as feelings of abandonment rise. Some suffer immense physical pain when separated for too long. My extras slowly go catatonic as they constantly masturbate until I give them some attention. Part of my ‘you’’s daytime duties involve informing me when my extras heart rate or respiration rate drops to near fatal levels so I can revive them. It’s wearisome to be responsible for so many lives. Heavy is the crown and all that.”

Wow, so, she became a monster. Just a more polite one than some of the others I have seen, Scarlet thinks. She then asks, “So, you killed your Francis?”

“My version of your... thing up there is perfectly functional. I had to bring it to the show, remember? Would you like to see it?”

Before waiting for a response, Heidi opens up her clutch bag. She pulls out a keyring with a little 6 inch long doll attached to it. The doll has painted on red hair, sad blue eyes, and a little pink dress. There is a small pull-string coming out of it’s back.

“It was such a negative, miserable little thing. I don’t know what my version of ‘you’ saw in it. Now, though, it is so affirming and cute. All I need to do is pull the string and...”

The doll speaks in a squeaky little voice, “I love you soooo much, Mistress!”

Heidi claps a little, actually smacking the doll between her hands. The doll’s face shifts into a grimace for just a second before resuming it’s empty grin. Heidi smiles.

“So much better, wouldn’t you say? Who says elimination is so bad?”

“I’m sorry, Heidi, but I’d rather take my chances here. I can’t abandon my friends.”

“Don’t say I didn’t offer you a way out. And don’t say no yet. That... thing up there is bound to embrace it’s evil patriarchal upbringing and do much worse to you than I would. Think on it. Send a note to me from the hotel staff and I will find a way to whisk you away from this. We could be having a threesome every night. My nighttime ‘you’ is very, very good with her tongue.”

With that, Heidi turns around, strutting away. The woman gives her hips that extra little bounce just to keep Scarlet’s attention. Too bad for her she is looking up instead. Looking at someone she doesn’t consider a monster.