"Your eyes are bigger than your stomach."
My older sister, Amber, always was the voice of reason. That's the thing with the oldest sibling. They can be SO boring.
"Are not."
"Are too!"
"It's MY birthday!" I yelled, reaching for the cake that Amber was holding above her head.
"You mean OUR birthday," Tim corrected.
"I. Want. Cake!"
"Fine, okay, have it your way. Just stop screaming already."
I always knew how to push my sister's buttons. That's the thing with the youngest sibling. We always get what we want.
I remember spending the rest of that birthday spewing frosting, so I guess Amber was right. I've always had a problem with biting off more than I can chew.
--
Maybe if I'd learned my lesson on my ninth birthday, I wouldn't have got myself into this predicament.
I wouldn't have accepted the businessman's offer on the Tube station. I wouldn't have called the number on his business card. I wouldn't have my brother's cum leaking out of my well-fucked pussy.
Our friends stood in a circle around me. All of us through to the next round. All of us burdened with the knowledge we'd fucked our teammate through the gloryhole.
But only one of us dripping with the evidence to prove it.
Mercifully, a platoon of goons marched through a pair of doors and our band of survivors turned to brace ourselves for the next instalment of sexual terror. One goon stood out from the rest. He wore a black trench coat over black clothing and a featureless black mask.
"I am the Host," the black clad goon announced, "I am here to congratulate you on making the final ten teams...and to offer you a choice."
"A choice?" Tim quizzed.
"The prize pot stands at £900,000. Should you wish, you may split the pot equally between the remaining players and walk away from the games tomorrow."
Dwight whistled. "Forty-five thousand EACH..."
"However, the vote must be unanimous. If even one player declines, all players must proceed to the final two games where only one team will be victorious."
We looked around our group of survivors, wondering who, if anyone, would chose the latter option.
"You have until tomorrow morning to decide."
With that, the Host turned on his heel and marched out of the room flanked by his phalanx of goons.
Akari was the first to speak. "Let's get the fuck out of here."
The auburn-haired girl I'd recognised from the waterfall spoke through sobs, "I can't take any more, I'm done."
Her brother held her to his chest and nodded in agreement.
"Would that cover your operation, Daddy?" Ellie asked.
"And then some," Larry confirmed.
"That's all we came for. We're with Akari. Let's end this."
There was a murmur of general agreement.
"We could re-open the shop," Lisa turned to Dwight, "and pay off our creditors."
"What do you think, Skye?" Dwight asked.
"I...I...I..."
"We agree," Tim said firmly, "this has gone far enough."
"You fucking cowards."
Apollo and Riley strode into the middle of our small group.
"It makes sense that you'd want to quit now," Apollo sneered.
"Cus none of you have what it takes to go all the way," Riley finished, slipping her hand into her brothers.
"Don't be ridiculous," Tim stepped towards the pair, "forty-five grand is a lot of money."
"Hey, Einstein," Apollo pointed at Dwight, "tell me, which is bigger, forty-five thousand or a million?"
"In purely mathematical terms..." Dwight began.
"It was a rhetorical question, freak."
"Oh."
"Leave him alone." Tim took a step closer to Apollo.
"Or what?"
Apollo took a step towards Tim, closing the gap between them. They glared at each other, chest to chest.
"If you want a penny of that money," Apollo sneered, "you'll have to go through us."
I don't know what would have happened if the goon hadn't arrived at that moment.
"Get moving, degenerates. It's shower time."
--
I stood under the steaming water for a long time. The other girls had already left the changing room when I padded out of the tiled showers, all pink and shiny. Almost all the girls.
I looked with begrudging admiration at Riley's naked body. Her wet braids reached all the way to a toned butt that was big enough to give mine a run for its money. Legs of a track star, perfect hourglass figure, beautiful perky tits. I had to give it to the girl, that family had damn good genes.
"Take a picture, bitch, it'll last longer."
"I wasn't...I'm not..."
"Whatever."
The door to the changing room opened and a goon stepped inside.
"I've been looking for you."
"Who, me?" I asked, hoping there had been some mistake, that we really should have been eliminated in the last round, that my brother hadn't bred my unprotected pussy.
"Both of you," the goon said, "boss wants to see you. He told me to give you these."
The goon handed Riley and me a black rectangular box each.
"Put it on, I'll be waiting outside."
I lifted the lid and discovered a layer of pink tissue paper, the same electric shade of pink worn by the goons. Beneath the tissue paper was a black satin cushion, and on the cushion was a set of electric pink lingerie.
I lifted it gingerly from the box. It felt expensive. French. Lacy little half cups. A skimpy g-string. Suspenders and sheer black stockings. A leather, studded dog collar.
I glanced at Riley and she looked back at me, sharing a silent thought. Whatever this meant, it wasn't good.
--
The goon led us into the same polished concrete corridor that I'd explored with Dwight the previous night. The Host was waiting for us there.
We stood in front of him like naughty school girls as he inspected our outfits. He nodded once, satisfied, turned, and lead us down the corridor away from the dormitory.
"You have been selected by one of our V.I.P's," the Host explained, "this is a great honour...and a chance to boost your chances."
"Sounds good to me," Riley said cheerfully.
"What's the catch?" I asked suspiciously.
The Host stopped walking suddenly.
"These are powerful people. Rich. Influential. Famous. The kind of people with reputations to uphold. If they take off their masks, don't look at their faces."
--
The Host lead us into a dimly lit room. The space gave the impression of intimacy despite its large size. The floor sloped in deep tiered steps towards a huge screen that spanned the width and height of the far wall.
The screen was divided into windows displaying various camera angles of the the contestants dormitory. Despite the low lighting, the hidden cameras offered perfect, high-definition pictures of the contestants in their bunks.
"Old highpockets ain't got no appetite for the wager."
My attention turned to a V.I.P lounging on a chez lounge nearby. He wore a diamond encrusted stetson and a Venetian mask.
Seated beside him on a wide love chair was another V.I.P in a maroon smoking jacket. He took a slow drag on his cigar before replying cryptically out the corner of his mouth. "A fool and his money."
