Note: Happy New Year, everyone! We don't know how we got to fit this in by the end of the year, but we did. We hope everyone has a fantastic 2021, and we hope this story's awfulness will continue well into the future. Thank you for reading this bizarre, fucked up fantasy. We love you. Enjoy.
The third match in Salem's test of sexiness was "Soul."
…
…
…
What the fuck did that mean?
Like, seriously, what the hell was that supposed to be? Soul? How the hell did someone test the sluttiness of their own soul? Like, was Salem going to fuck their spirit? Were they going to have to have to stick dildos into their, like, essence? Or were they going to get fucked by ghosts? Was Salem going to summon an actual fucking poltergeist to bang them? A ghoul? A spectre? A revenant?
Because yes, that would be hot, but also improbable. Ghosts weren't real. Not like semen drugs that gave women giant penises. Those were very real. And awesome.
As it turned out, Salem's plans had nothing to do with the supernatural. "Soul" in this context was a bit more like jazz…Salem wanted to test their passion. Their drive. Their intricate, heartfelt knowledge of the ins and outs of sluttiness. After all, being a slut wasn't just about degrading one's body, but their mind as well. What could be a better showcase for a whore than proving she was sexy on the inside as she was on the outside?
And what was the first challenge Salem demanded of her Whores-men in training?
Emerald read the challenge aloud with a raised eyebrow. "An Ultimate Slut™ must be able to master dirty talk. Contestants, use…use the power of slam poetry to express your love of the…ultimate sluttiness? Wait, Salem, what…"
An evil smile crossed Blake's face. This was her time to shine.
The room was quiet.
The stage was set.
The Sluts were all watching.
Their pussies were wet.
Slam poetry for a chance at victory?
What could be sweeter?
Nothing for the catgirl.
Who fucked herself with an eggbeater.
It was somewhat hard to speak.
After her brutal pussy pounding.
But she swallowed her pain to compete.
Her victory would be resounding.
The young catgirl was standing center stage.
Smooth legs shaky and weak.
And with the eyes of the world upon her.
She finally began to speak.
MILF of Mine, MILF of Mine
Was the poem she recited.
It was honest and she didn't care.
About the mockery that it invited.
It was about her mother's sexiness.
About how she was the best.
From her loving, tender kisses.
To her giant, heaving chest.
Blake talked of tender pussies.
And ass cheeks that constantly clapped.
But she also talked about their relationship.
And how one day, she had snapped.
Kali refused to sleep with her.
No matter how she had pleaded.
How could Kali not fuck her daughter?
Didn't she know this is what she needed?
Blake just wanted to bury her face deep in her mother's asshole.
Was that really so fucked up?
She wanted her mom's pucker to be like a blackhole.
Where her face would get all sucked up.
But who did Kali decide to sleep with?
Which sluts did she want to bang?
Only Blake's goddamn fucking teammates.
Those ho-bags: Ruby, Weiss and Yang.
Those stupid goddamn motherfuckers.
Literal mother fuckers. It made her sick.
Weiss with her stupid shit-eating grin
And Ruby, with her futa dick.
Not to mention Yang, that wretched cunt.
Whose shame she had long since strung
She fucked her mommy right in front of her.
Giving her orgasms with her tongue.
Blake was sick of being denied, you see.
Sick of being forgotten and cast aside.
So she decided to make a tough decision.
And partake in a sexy futa Grimm genocide.
So now she was reciting this poem.
In front of her mother so dear.
And she hoped the message would be taken to heart.
She hoped that Kali would hear.
About the pain that she had brought her daughter.
And how this could have been prevented.
If Kali just put her morals and doubts away.
And let her pussy be presented.
To the daughter who loved her unconditionally.
Until the bitter end.
Until that goddamn MILF broke her goddamn heart.
And fucked her fucking friends.
Blake finished the poem with a heavy sigh.
The room was quiet and dim.
No cheers came from the naked women.
No howls came from the Grimm.
Blake looked her mother in the eye.
With worlds of heartache and sorrow.
But also with a glimmer of revenge in her eye.
Because she knew that by tomorrow.
She would join Salem's army of vicious warriors.
The worst the world had ever known.
And around her futa dick, Kali would wrap her lips.
And Blake would finally get blown.
She would bend her mom over and spread her cheeks.
And fuck her ass till it was sore.
And the pain would finally go away.
And the torment would be…no more.
The room erupted into furious applause.
So defeaning and sincere.
That even though her heart was blackened.
Salem shed a single tear.
"That story was incredible," Salem claimed. "I never knew about your plight."
Blake was actually quite irritated by that comment. "Bitch, I told you this all last night!"
Salem shrugged. "I wasn't listening."
Blake simply rolled her eyes.
Salem not giving a shit about anyone other than herself?
What a fucking surprise.
"Anyway," Salem announced. "The contest continues. It's now Yang's turn to speak."
But Yang was a bit distracted—slapping her palm against her asscheek.
"Huh? What?" Yang said with surprise. "Oh, is it my turn?"
"Yeah, dumbass, pay attention," said Emerald.
Blake chuckled. "Try not to crash and burn."
It was a hopeless task for Yang of course.
Busting out dope rhymes?
She was high as a fucking kite, and even then.
She wasn't good with words even in her prime.
But damn, she had to compete anyway.
So she might as well give it a shot.
And maybe they'd give her some leniency.
After all, she was super, extra, mega hot.
Who didn't want a woman looking like her.
To bust out some poetry?
She showed them all her lyrical skill.
And then they all would see.
That she was worthy of joining the Four Whores-men.
The baddest bitches in the land.
She was the coolest motherfucker in Remnant.
With a dope-ass robot hand.
Salem ordered the contest to begin.
And Yang carefully cleared her throat.
How did these poems usually begin?
Oh yeah! With a gloat!
"I'm Yang! I'm Yang! I'm fucking Yang! I'm super fucking cool! I graduated top of my class from a badass Huntsmen school!"
Yang didn't know the difference,
Between slam poetry and rap.
So she pulled out her Scroll from out of nowhere.
And put on a sick beat that slapped.
"Blake's so weak with her dull-ass rhymes," Yang taunted through her words. "She never learned to tell the time."
Well, that comment was just absurd.
Yang threw in some gangsta arm movements
To try to make herself seem more tight.
But the more she tried to prove herself.
The more she reminded people she was white.
"I got big tits and a giant ass! My pussy is so tight! Blake's gonna regret stepping up to me! She's gonna lose this fight!"
Ruby watched her sister from afar.
Shame rising in her being.
She couldn't understand how things had come this far.
Or comprehend what she was seeing.
Yang was embarrassing herself.
In front of the world's view.
And it was even more embarrassing when Ruby realized.
This was seen by everybody she knew.
She had to figure out how to stop this.
How to destroy Salem once and for all.
Utilizing her partnership with her friends.
And even that asshole—Cinder Fall.
But her plan wasn't set yet.
And she didn't want to take any risks.
So she was forced to watch Yang lose a poetry battle to
The girl who filled her pussy with two whisks.
"Yo yo yo! I'm a fly bitch!" Yang cried. "Y'all homies can't fuck with me!"
Neopolitan rolled her eyes and groaned. "Who does she think she is? Notorious B.I.G.?"
Ruby didn't understand the reference.
And Neo didn't bother explaining.
They just both watched Yang's awkward rap in silence.
And hoped there wasn't much time remaining.
Yang was quickly running out of steam.
She was struggling to keep going.
She may have head gigantic boobs.
But her tiny lexicon was showing.
"Uh…Blake is a loser…she sucks so bad…not like that…"
The rhymes came out so stilted.
Salem watched from her throne with an awkward gaze.
And in some sense, she felt she had been guilted.
Forcing this poor bimbo to speak poetry.
Which obviously wasn't her strength.
Her talent was having a killer bod.
And deepthroating massive lengths.
Salem clapped her hands together with authority.
Yang suddenly became silent.
The blonde became in fear for her life.
For the Grimm Mistress was known to be quite violent.
But Salem just sighed, and bowed her head.
She didn't want there to be a catch.
"You know, this is just getting tired," she declared, "so let's just say that Blake wins the match."
"What?" Yang cried. "That's not fair at all! What about the other two quests?"
"I think you're better off forfeiting and trying different things," Salem suggested. "Like fingering and playing with breasts."
The crowd broke into applause.
Blake had achieved first place.
The catgirl looked to her mother in pride.
But her mom couldn't look her in the face.
Yang moaned in defeat, while Blake jumped up in joy. "Hooray! One more victory!"
"Oh, shut it," said Yang, still high as a kite. "The next match is practically built for me."
Blake couldn't deny that the next match was daunting.
A battle of asses so huge.
But she had already won previous challenges.
Due to her squirting and swallowing splooge.
She had proven her soul to be slutty.
And her words to be sharp as a spit.
She knew she would win the last match-up.
And that Yang would go suck her clit.
She was up two-to-one, a dominant position.
The Ultimate Slut she would be.
But would she win the last fight?
By the end of the night?
Yang sneered in contempt. "Well…we'll see."