The Bubblegum Bitches

As far as we can trace, the Bitches, Rose and Teal, are at least the 5th generation of women in their family who have made their living as whores. Every one of their forebearers was born within the brothels that employed their mothers, and so it would be for them. There may not be records, but the legends that surround the family speak of centuries of harems, concubines, and sex slavery. What we know for sure is that over the decades, these women have been courtesans to nobility, mistresses to royalty, and as circumstances changed, they have walked the streets or provided service for the price of a hot meal. They each taught their daughters their family trade and took pride knowing the next generation would be as accommodating and dedicated as the last.

By the time the Bitches' own mother arrived in the city, her reputation, and almost legendary capacity, was known to every pimp and brothel keeper across the great metropolis. Her current owners had bought her to England to sell her and they intended to get the absolute best price they could. To demonstrate her boundless energy, unlimited capacity for debauchery and unmatched sexual prowess, they installed her in an abandoned church and invited every potential buyer to put her depravity and stamina to the test.

For two days and two nights, without sleep, pause or sustenance, she endured every physical abuse and perversion the city's whoremongers and associates could inflict on her. She suffered, without mercy, at the hands of the most twisted and corrupt deviants and never stopped begging for more.

Still unsatisfied that her talents had been sufficiently showcased, the doors to the church were flung open and every degenerate in the city invited to sample her charms for a third day and night.

The subsequent bidding to own this unique talent was frenzied but the excitement to possess her might have been tempered had potential buyers known that she had fallen pregnant during those first nights in the city. Nobody would ever know which of the hundreds of men had fathered the Bitches, and some even suggest they were conceived from the essence of all of them, distilling every perversion and abuse into the offspring.

Her new owner was not a cruel man, but he was callous, and craven, and he expected his new possession to provide a return on his extravagant investment. He put her to work immediately, servicing an endless line of punters, each desperate to test her legendary capacity and endurance. Even her developing pregnancy did not encourage her master to reduce the burden of work and abuse she was subjected to.

Sadly, in her state of exhaustion and depravity, the birth of the Bitches proved too great strain, and after returning to work almost immediately, she slipped into a coma and passed away. Even in death she received no peace as her body continued to be defiled by men whose tastes were not dependent on a pulse.

Her master was initially distraught at the loss of his prize asset before it had time to fully repay his outlay, but he soon realized that he may have lost the city's finest cunt, but was now potentially the owner of two resources, each as valuable as their mother.

He soon set about teaching the Bitches their family business.

Their upbringing was transient, moving between countless London brothels and being mothered and taught by an endless stream of whores and madams. Each bestowed their knowledge and experience on the apprentices who would grow to combine their mother's physical and mental gifts with the teachings of the highest and lowest sex workers in the city.

The virginity of both Bitches were carefully guarded by their custodian, until their coming of age, in the certain knowledge that selling their first times would more than compensate for his investment in their upbringing and training.

Prostitution was legalized soon after the birth of the Bitches, but it would be the sale of their virginity that would mark the new age of commercial sex and corporate involvement in the flesh industry.

In fairness to the politicians and campaigners that lobbied for the decriminalization, regulation, and eventual legalization of prostitution, how could they have foreseen women being conceived and raised specifically to feed the increasingly legitimatized trade? The Bitches own daughters would be born and reared like cattle on the so-called 'whore farms', raised and educated by invisible corporations to fill the endless need for meat to work the mega brothels that now proliferate in every population center. The fate of every one of those fuck toys, bred with a single purpose and future, can be traced back to the story of the Bitches.

Prostitution may have become socially acceptable, to some degree, but there was still an outcry when the public became aware of the Bitches being raised within the city's legal bordellos, by a guardian who was open about his intentions to eventually prostitute them. There were various newspaper and television exposes, discussions in parliament and campaigns to have them removed from this environment. But their brothel homes were no longer illegal and the people raising them were also operating within the law. Without evidence for any direct exposure or involvement in the sex that surrounded them, and in this litigious age, there was no intervention possible by any authority.

But their guardian recognized that their value was increasing with their celebrity. He welcomed documentary makers that recorded every aspect of their unique childhood and made the Bitches as famous as popstars. Their own social media profiles were amongst the most subscribed to in the world, with people fascinated by the life stories that were playing out so publicly.

As they progressed into adolescence, and eventually reached their sixteenth birthdays, and the age of consent, the discourse surrounding them began to change. The voices of condemnation were drowned out by the growing excitement that they would soon be fulfilling their destiny of sexual servitude. They could not sell sex until they reached eighteen, but sixteen seemed to be the age that people felt able to comfortably speak about them sexually.

The explicit bubblegum pop music they released, and highly suggestive videos that accompanied them, further fueled their objectification and sexualization in popular culture. Their unique style, incorporating brightly colored and mismatched stripper clothing, became a central theme of their brand, globally commercialized and appropriated by young girls and mature women alike.

The Bitches themselves hosted a sweet-sixteen party, attended by other teen celebrities from around the world, where they unveiled a large clock that counted down the hours until they turned eighteen and their virginities could be sold to the highest bidder. They spoke emotionally that night of their determination to make their mother proud and the challenge of remaining chaste.

Their sixteenth birthday party was also the night that they each signed life-long management contracts with their guardian, ensuring him most of their future earnings. Their guardian was a savvy businessman, and his operation had grown exponentially since the legalization of prostitution. His own growing notoriety, derived from the publicity that followed every aspect of the Bitches lives, further enriched and empowered him. But as wealthy as he now was, his resources were modest compared to the corporate entities that began to circle as the Bitches approached their eighteenth birthdays.

Frankly, there was too much money being made in the sex industry to be ignored. Brothels grew larger and chains emerged offering a consistent service to suit the wallets of any customer. And once it was apparent that returns on investments would hugely outstrip the rest of the stock market, the venture capitalists, hedge funds, private financiers and portfolio managers began to invest. The flesh trade was legal, and these investors had never let morality cloud their fiscal judgements before and wouldn't start now. And the Bitches were the hottest property in the industry.

As fond as the guardian had grown of the Bitches that he raised from birth, they were first and foremost a commodity. If someone was willing to pay him more than he could earn himself from the whores, he was willing to sell. The offers to purchase the management rights of the Bitches were as frenzied as the sale of their mother all those years before.

After several months of negotiation, he sold the Bitches to a hedge fund who had been buying up mega-brothels around the globe. Their plan was simple. They would sell the Bitches' virginity, at a lavish and high-profile event, before shipping them around the world to promote their newly acquired facilities. They were betting that new VIP memberships would sore if they included an introductory fuck with the most famous whores on the planet.

No time was wasted, and no expense spared in arranging the event that would see the Bitches finally sell their virginities. An arena, more used to hosting rock concerts, was booked for the night and the broadcast rights sold to the highest bidding streaming service.

One hundred golden vouchers were created, affording the ticket holders entry to this unique event, and entry to the Bitches. Despite the exorbitant cost, there was no shortage of takers. For the ever-expanding class of dotcom billionaires and oligarchs, and their ever-expanding wallets, the cost of joining the most heralded event of the year was irrelevant. Every other status symbol has been exploited and flaunted. Space travel was now passé and super yachts outmoded. Taking the Bitches virginity would be an incredible status symbol, and nobody wanted to miss out.

As the mega-rich elite's wealth had grown over the decades, so had their hedonistic desires, debauchery and need to parade their wealth. Rumors that the Gandalf commerce platform founder had bought tickets for himself, his wife and his two teenage sons, were soon proudly confirmed in an official statement from the family. Being obscenely rich was not sufficient if they could not also flaunt the entitlement it gave you.

The royal houses of Europe had survived various waves of austerity and growing public displeasure and disinterest by befriending the new class of profanely rich and offering a degree of spectacle and circumstance in return for access to their lavish lifestyle. The highest profile and most ostentatious royal couple, from the British monarchy, were sponsored by their oligarch benefactors to join the event. There were even rumors that several authoritarian rulers from around the globe had purchased tickets to demonstrate their virility and masculinity to their citizens.

To add further to the glamour and notoriety of the event, the streaming service provided twenty tickets to prominent musicians, actors and sports stars, but did not release their names. The speculation of which celebrities would be walking the red carpet, and joining the cohort, kept the tabloids and social media channels busy for months leading up to the event.

The final two tickets were reserved for the winners of a reality TV show, that ran for the twelve months preceding the deflowering event, that pitched members of the public against each other in increasingly bizarre and explicit sexual challenges. As with everything surrounding the Bitches, it had been a ratings bonanza. The winners of the final public vote, a pansexual lifeguard from Australia and a transexual dancer from Venezuela, were now as famous as almost anyone else attending the event. Both dedicated their wins to dead grandparents that had previously inspired them.

The voices of disapproval continued to raise their moral objections and vent their opposition, but few were listening. The public relations juggernaut that surrounded the legalization of prostitution in general, and the Bitches in particular, had won over the populous. Their female empowerment and body autonomy arguments were either convincing enough to sway opinion or they at least provided sufficient pretext to absolve people of guilt.

And if persuasion didn't work, the special interests that benefitted from further deregulation had little reservation in playing dirty. One high profile female television presenter has quit live on air rather than promote a Bitches themed virtual interactive sex experience that would soon be launched on a popular game console. She immediately became the target of a brutal smear campaign. Revelations of her relationship with an older television executive, at the beginning of her career, discredited her credibility and was used to insinuate that she was, at best, a hypocrite and, at worst, little better than a prostitute herself. The character assassination didn't end with the demolition of her career and continued with the leaking of intimate pictures from her phone and a series of former lovers being paid to further humiliate her by revealing sordid details of her sexual past. The attack was spiteful and designed to both deter further dissenters and titillate the masses.

The final press junkets with the Bitches came and went but the appetite for any content related to the upcoming event was never sated. Talking heads discussed every aspect of the occasion to the tiniest miniature, every emerging detail treated like breaking news. The Bitches diet and exercise regimes in the buildup were pored over and the ability of their bodies to cope with such an extreme deflowering were discussed earnestly by experts drawn from both the gynecology and pornography industries. The task ahead of the Bitches was daunting.

Every one of the hundred participants was afforded 10 minutes with each bitch, and the order determined by lottery during the event. The first two names out of the hat would have the special reward of being each of the Bitches first and there were rumors that the wealthiest of the participants were offering outrageous sums to others willing to exchange positions. Participant one, who would be Rose's first, then became number one hundred and one for Teal, thus ensuring access to both young whores and a grueling two hundred encounters each for the Bitches. The audience of thousands would change every four hours of the thirty-six-hour event, to give the Bitches some respite and to allow the largest most energetic crowd possible.

The Bitches travelled by police motorcade from their hotel to the venue early in the day, with news crews in pursuit and helicopters filming from above. The streets were lined by fans and onlookers. Excited audience members were interviewed outside of the arena as they waited excitedly to be admitted. Some had travelled internationally to attend the event, and many spoke about their plans to fuck the Bitches themselves once their brothel tour began. The media seemed surprised how many young women, wearing clothes inspired by the Bitches trademark style, spoke about the inspiration the Bitches had been growing up and their own aspirations to become whores themselves. The only people not surprised were the corporate puppet masters who knew just how profitable and influential the Bitches brand was. Above all, the normalization of prostitution, that was being played out on every news and entertainment channel, was about to make some obscenely rich people even richer and obscener.

The red-carpet event that welcomed the hundred participants was as excessive and extravagant as any award ceremony. One by one, in a carefully sequenced order, the limousines arrived, and the participants posed for the paparazzi's cameras and were shuffled between interviews by their PR staff. The journalists conducting the interviews were under strict instructions to avoid discussion of morality, or the Bitches welfare, and to focus on the excitement of the event, which they did so dutifully. Obedience had long been a defining requirement of a successful journalist. As if to underline that point, the first female participant to arrive was the highest profile cable news presenter on television.

Her network had purchased her a ticket to the event to ensure the inside scoops from the green room and a first-hand account of sex with the Bitches in front of a live crowd and millions, perhaps billions, of viewers gathered at organized events, parties or just at home jacking-off. She was dressed lavishly and made clear in her red-carpet exchanges that she was there primarily to party, and the reporting was an incidental factor.

Numerous billionaire executives, with strong public profiles, alongside bastions of old money, arrived with monotonous frequency to a certain degree of excitement and interest, but the real enthusiasm was reserved for the sports and media celebrities, especially the female ones.

The recent US Open and Wimbledon champion was one of the surprise attendees and received the largest cheer from the feverish crowd. She was wearing an especially elaborate gown which she accessorized with a small clutch bag from which a large strap-on dildo theatrically protruded. She made it clear to repeated reporters that she intended to demonstrate her ability to pound the Bitches as hard as any of the male participants. This claim was relayed by the journalists to some of the male sport stars in attendance as they attempted to create a phony competition.

The first to bite was the reigning one-hundred-meter Olympic champion. He flexed his hulk like muscles at the suggestion through his impeccably tailored tuxedo, which was quite a site now that steroids and growth hormones had been legalized in professional sport. He promised to demonstrate his explosive power, and previously unseen endurance, when his return arrived. Given his now legendary Olympic village exploits with both the gold and silver winning Swedish and Brazilian volleyball teams, few doubted he was as good as his word.

Hollywood royalty was well represented, with two Oscar winners in attendance, together with two of the hottest female stars of the time, taking a break from their superhero franchises to demonstrate their range and versatility.

One of the last noted celebrities to arrive was hip-hop star, 4naK8, fresh from promoting her Grammy award winning, anal sex themed album, Rim Shot. Her sumptuous outfit, adorned with blue crystals, was totally open at the back, like an ill-fitting surgical gown. It allowed her to bend over, or spread her silicon enhanced buttocks, to reveal her branded buttplug, replicas of which could be ordered from her website.

The backstage greenroom, hosting all the participants as they waited for the event to begin, was a surreal scene. Where else would the inventor of the first commercially successful hydrogen fuel powered car range be filmed in conversation with a rockstar most famous for sexually violating groupies live on stage, an actress famous for her portrayal of a crime-fighting mermaid and the hereditary heir of a small Middle Eastern principality accused of genocide against his own people?

Once the first participants were drawn from the hat, the rest would retire to a fleet of trailers and wait in privacy for their calls.

At 9pm, a house music fueled lightshow began in the arena, and any semblance of order in the crowd was lost. The anticipation was overwhelming and caused the audience to surge forward to get closer to the round stage that sat at the center of the arena. To the noisy disappointment of the crowd, the first people to appear on stage were not the Bitches, but instead two popular television hosts emerged from beneath the podium to conduct the lottery that would sequence each of the first five participants to fuck Rose and Teal and occupy the first hour of the show.

Ten names were drawn, the odd numbers for Rose and the even numbers for Teal, and despite rumors that there might be some horse-trading and exchange taking place, the selected names were instructed to prepare themselves and make their way to the fluffing suites, beneath the stage, where they could privately prepare with the help of various assistants selected to suit all tastes.