Double-checking to make sure the unique décolletage of her rubber dress was lined up properly, Grave Sight hurried back to the stage, grabbing the mike from an outstretched hand on her way. Pasting onto her face a smile which wasn’t reflected in her eyes, the Goth chick half waved, half gestured magnanimously to the bare stage around her as the crowd of bidders returned to their seats, intermission over.

“Greetings and salutations to our honored guests, as the Flesh Fair’s annual auction comes to another thrilling conclusion. The best and brightest of today’s lots has been saved for the finale – an entry you won’t want to miss!” As she rattled off her schpiel from hidden teleprompters, large TV screens off to the sides gave the bidders in the back a better view of her. One took a wide lens stance, showing her and most of the stage, while another did a close-up, catching her face and her exposed tits. Not breasts or bosoms, tits – as in the medium B-cup or less class. They were the main culprit for her being stuck here…

Grave Sight had been the victim of the worst kind of kidnapping – the one where she’d been confused with someone else. Another, bustier member of her club-hopping clique had caught the eye of a fourth generation oil exec who had better things to do than asking girls out for a dinneranumooveesumnite when he wanted sex. Not when two guys big as rhinos in a panel van, a rag dipped in chloroform, some drugs, and a few weeks depravation of clothes and basic nutrition were cheaper and guaranteed.

Although their faux paus was obvious the moment their boss looked at her, it hardly changed matters – after all, she could hardly be dumped back on the streets, now could she? She didn’t have what he was looking for in a bedmate, and so she’d wound up in the same place her friend would have, only a few months earlier. She joined her new master’s retinue of other slaves, other conquests which he’d grown bored with, and now served as party favors available at her master’s various shindigs. While never terribly impressed with her, Grave Sight’s master had taken pains to maintain her pallid complexion, even going so far as to modify her sleep cycles so she slept throughout the day and was only allowed outside and active at night, as some of his guests found her unique. He did nothing to enhance her boobs, despite his displeasure with them, probably due to the fact that an odd number of his guests preferred her that way, asking for “The Goth with the dykey hair”. Unfortunately, these same guests inevitably preferred to use her for sodomy; almost certainly they were living out some deep, hidden man-boy fantasy, what with her lack of chest development and soft, hairless body. Whatever the reason, she spent most nights biting back tears as her rectum was roughly violated for the next four years, which was two years longer than the average for a slave.

By then, she’d long noticed that the other girls disappeared regularly as new ones were brought in. Her dreams brought horrible explanations for this – scenarios of being drugged and shipped to Thailand for a few additional years of whoring in back alleys before being cut up for her kidneys and whatnot, or simply being made to dig a trench out behind the bushes before being wacked on the back of the head with the same shovel. These dreams became more pronounced as her responsibilities shifted – demand for her began to dwindle, and she was assigned to acting more as a hostess, ensuring drinks were kept full and arranging for assignations between guests and slaves they particularly desired. As her fifth year approached, her use in bed dwindled to nothing after her master brought in a quartet of frightened, shivering flat-chested girls whom she was ordered to train for giving anal pleasure. After doing all she could to teach them to grin and bear it as they took it up the shaft, the drugging and shipping she’d dreamt of did occur. Instead of a roach-infested brothel, however, she instead awoke at the Flesh Fair, and had been serving there ever since.

Hidden somewhere in the Cayman Islands (or perhaps the Bahamas or even some remote part of Hawaii for all she could tell), the Flesh Fair had been the disposal point for her master’s stable as new girls were brought in, and he was not the only sponsor. Part slave market and part amusement park, the Flesh Fair catered to the wealthy and hedonistic, taking in sex slaves whose owners had grown bored with them, then adding them to their ever-changing retinue of attractions, or reselling them at their monthly auctions. The fair already had more than enough ass-slaves in circulation for “Around the Corner,” their specialty ride for sodomites, and so she’d been assigned to act as MC for their auctions due to her extended time spent as a hostess. It was her thirteenth auction thus far, and the slave now known as Grave Sight had long since noticed a peculiar pattern with the auctions…

Although the majority of auctions were regular slaves of exceptional skill or beauty whose only sin was their owner had grown bored with them, the auction’s grand finale was regularly something that the Flesh Fair could have kept and used for a sexual freakshow. At her first auction, Grave Sight oversaw the bidding of Jingle Belle, a Swedish bombshell whose owner had received her as a Christmas present. In honor of the occasion, she’d been turned into a reindeergirl, as opposed to a regular ponygirl which Grave Sight had become familiar with during her time at the fair. Such a set-up included the regular hoof-boots and leather tack, but her bridle gave her the horns of a doe rather than blinders or false horse’s ears. Unfortunately, her master had gone a little too far, and had her breasts enhanced with special implants containing jingle bells which, albeit muted within her flesh, were quite audible when Jingle Belle was made to canter. Naturally, however, the constant jingling had grown tiresome after awhile and, once the “new” on her faded, Jingle Belle wound up at the Flesh Fair, purchased by someone who was both short-sighted and fat-walleted enough to pay for her.

Following auctions had shown the same pattern – the final auction was for a slave whose owner had let their imagination run wild, accompanied often by video footage of them being used in some form of another, while Grave Sight read off a script, which also often included a poorly thought out nickname that one of the fair managers thought was clever (hence her own name as Grave Sight). The past auctions had seen the likes of slaves named Pat-a-Cake, the Velvet Vortex, Paul that Refreshes, and, most unfortunate of all, Bucket of Mud. The name alone had given the bidders a bad idea of what her specialty was and no one had bid on her, at least not while other people were looking. Last month’s auction finale had brought the most money ever in Grave Sight’s time when they’d sold the Queen of Siam – identical twins whose various tongue studs, nipple rings, and so forth were connected, forcing them into a permanent sister-on-sister position. Although this resulted in oral or vaginal sex being difficult even with some maneuvering, bidding had gone on for several minutes more than usual, far beyond the point where a bidder could have been looking to buy two slaves for the price of one. “Either another ass-freak or someone who wanted to see the twins act out their position,” Grave Sight had thought at the time.

As new info played out on the teleprompters, Grave Sight proudly presented the final item up for bid as a quartet of hooves sounded out, trotting onto the stage. Casting a quick, appraising eye on the slave, a mild smirk crossed her face in answer to the slave’s look of despair, which strengthened as Grave Sight read the script. Reading aloud, Grave Sight learned that the slave was Rubbermair, a once-willing slave who had volunteered to be made into a ponygirl for her prior owner. However, he (she?) had gone to excess to make her realistically horse-like, going so far as to make her a quadruped. Rubbermair was covered up to her neck in a shiny black material which appeared to be rubber or a high-quality leather, but was designed to be porous enough for her to skin to breathe and sweat through to a degree, as well as allow Rubbermair’s next owner to whip her or brand her like she had a real horse’s hide. The suit melded flawlessly with the hoof-boots, her hands inserted into finger-holds within her fore-hooves, while her feet were affixed onto slippers inside her much thicker hind-hooves, which extended beyond the length of her feet before forming hooves, giving her hind legs a kind of fetlock.

This set-up enabled Rubbermair to stand and move in a much more level, realistic four-legged fashion then if she walked on her hand and knees, or bent over to walk on her hands and feet, as well as presenting her buttocks quite nicely. Not that much could be done with them; like Jingle Belle, Rubbermair had an anal plug from which sprouted a tail, albeit made from a shock of her own hair rather than a fake stub of deer’s tail. A far greater difference was that the plug was also melded to the suit, making it irremovable. As such, the plug was also hollow and could be easily connected to an enema apparatus to flush out Rubbermair’s system, a measure to maintain discipline as it kept her dependent upon her owner since she could no longer have a natural bowel movement. A similar set up was done with a dildo also kept inside her by the suit, as a catheter extended out from it into her bladder, also leaving Rubbermair’s capacity to relieve herself at her owner’s whim. As reward for her loyalty prior to her transformation, instead of a solid hunk of rubber, her master had included weights on springs within the dildo as well, which jostled and stimulated her to a degree as she cantered. Not enough to allow her orgasm except occasionally, but as an animal, her sexual pleasure was of little interest to her owner.

Videos played out on the screens as Grave Sight noted this, displaying in high speed times when Rubbermair’s “cleansings” had swelled her to nearly pregnant proportions before being drained out. Only Rubbermair’s mouth was left available for giving pleasure to her owner, unless the suit could be cut enough to remove her dildo or plug. Apparently, this was the “step-too-far” typical of auction finales – now that she was an animal, it would be an act of bestiality to have sex with her, and so her prior owner had her ass and vagina clogged up permanently to prevent the temptation. The videos showed that Rubbermair originally also had a ball-gag affixed to her bridle, which had a thin hole through its center which a hose could be led through into her throat for feeding. This set-up was kept covered with a fake horse’s snout most of the time, insuring that getting a blowjob was also a no-no. Both had been removed for the auction, however, although they were offered as part of the package.

“It must have been removed awhile ago, given the tan on her face,” Grave Sight thought as she finished the script. The final sentence told her that the beginning price was $5,000, and within but moments the price had already jacked up to 13 grand. As bidder #12 raised the price again, a mild grimace flashed across Grave Sight in unspoken jealousy of these freaks of nature and the attention they received. She’d received little but passing praise for her work overseeing auctions during her time as the Flesh Fair’s MC, and the only positive attention she’d received as a sex slave was an occasional nod of approval from her master during her last few years as a hostess. “… And now I just stand here, dressed like I was dipped in latex with my tits on display, and these men and women instead throw enough money to buy waterfront property on this unfuckable bitch,” her bitter thoughts finished.

The auction finally came down to a duel between a Saudi prince and a middle-aged Korean woman, both of whom took a particular interest in the various pony-slaves whom came through the fair. Apparently, a quad-ponygirl was of special interest to them, as the bidding went on and on, way above normal. Finally, the bidding hit $105,000, the loser throwing their bidding paddle down in disgust. With that Rubbermair was trotted offstage, the dejected look on her face having never left it. Grave Sight thought it was symptomatic of either her shock at being abandoned by her owner to an auction and being sold, or perhaps just a general malaise resultant of her eternal enforced chastity. Noting the wobble of her encased udders as she moved, Grave Sight dismissed the thought process before it grew into something approaching sympathy, remembering the bazooms on her old friend which had by association gotten her kidnapped and abandoned here in the first place.

“And with that, the auction comes to an end, until next month,” she thought ruefully, waving as the bidders slowly shuffled out of the auditorium, some forming into small crowds as they talked with one another, either giving congratulations or just making small talk. She kept at it, as usual, until the stagehands lowered the curtains, at which point she unzipped and removed the dress, carefully folding it up and placing it on a hanger as a stagehand stood by with a monoglove and a leash. Leaving on her thigh boots, Grave Sight expected to be led to the Flesh Fair manager’s office, to be “rewarded” for overseeing another successful auction by either eating carpet or giving a blowjob, but was instead led out to the small stage where a carnival barker was slowly gathering the attention of guests passing by.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” he called out like in an old movie. “You’ve seen her exercise her lungs on stage, now let them exercise her mouth on you! You’ve seen her ice-cold flesh on display, now let her bring body heat to you! The Flesh Fair is saying au revoire to one of its staple sights, and you could reap the rewards! Today only, the Flesh fair’s first open air auction presents for your consideration, the one and only Grave Sight!”

Standing there with already a crowd of nearly a hundred surrounding her, Grave Sight had already grasped the implications as the barker pointed his cane at her, the stagehand making her turn around and bend over for the crowd. “I’m the one being sold… again,” a combination of fear and trepidation shot through her, the old maxim of getting what you wish for playing through her head as hundreds of eyes, reflecting everything from mild interest to sick anticipation, latched onto her.

With frightful swiftness, the barker was taking bids as Grave Sight tried to maintain composure, her eyes shifting back from one bidder to another, trying to take in a measure of their character…

THE END