There was an awful chill in the air the day Kit arrived outside Oberhoff Racing Headquarters. They shivered outside its glass-doored entrance, having walked the last stretch of the way there after taking two trains. The exercise had helped warm them somewhat beneath the overcast sky, but taking public transport and walking the rest of the way was perhaps ironic for someone looking to drive cars professionally.

Ironic, and perhaps not the best look.

Thankfully, Kit was early; no one else was around to watch them blow into their hands to keep the heat as they bounced lightly from one foot to another. White sneakers protected them from the cold concrete and capped off black leggings they wore beneath a pair of purple athletic shorts. A matching purple windbreaker covered the swell of their chest, while long, black curls fought to warm their ears. They had forgotten to wear a hat, which left their bangs to fall over the sharp features of their face in a way their few close friends and some former coworkers said gave them a perpetually “bored” or “bitchy” look.

Kit didn’t love that, though they preferred it to people knowing how they really felt: anxious, nervous, shy. Perpetually so. There weren’t many international racecar drivers with their background (much less ones that could barely afford to pay their own rent). It was difficult, draining, and above all stressful work to chase a dream usually reserved for the wealthy.

Even so, they had gone up the usual ladder of carting and Formula 2, claiming spots on one podium after the next. They were good. Too good to ignore, despite protestations from an always male-dominated sport. Then it was on to test driving and…

Nothing. They had, for lack of a better phrase, been spinning their wheels for two years now. There just weren’t any open seats for new racers—much less ones that couldn’t pay to be there and worked a part-time job to complement dwindling loans.

Their eye caught an expensive ring of track situated in a courtyard peaking out just behind the new building. The asphalt looked entirely unmarked by rubber. It must have cost a fortune to build; now, it just sat there like an ornament, speaking to status more than purpose.

Money. It always came back to money.

None of this was a problem for Vanessa Vanden, of course. The shorter, softer woman rounded the corner right on cue. The difference was that she arrived in a car, an expensive, cherry red thing that glittered even in the overcast light, though she didn’t drive it herself. The heiress had a chauffeur for that, one that stopped just long enough for Vanessa to swing her pale legs down out of the car, right in front of Kit, before he disappeared to do… whatever chauffeurs did when they weren’t chauffeuring, Kit assumed. Getting lunch, maybe.

Vanessa clacked forward on dark red heels that matched her red leather jacket and a shining black skirt stretched down to her knees. Her own black hair was also curled, but shot with blonde highlights and cut short at the sides and back, leaving a fashionable mop of the stuff perfectly imperfect atop her scalp and falling down one side. Her glossed lips were wine dark and thick before entirely straight, white teeth, though she had an almost imperceptible gap between the incisors. Another perfect “flaw” that only made her glamorous face that much more dazzling.

Kit had no trouble guessing why she had been invited to Oberhoff. Besides her wealth and supposed skill, Vanessa was herself… incredibly marketable. Kit had never spoken to her directly, but everyone on the circuit knew her by sight. How could they not?

Kit blushed as they tore their eyes off the short woman’s condensed curves.

It wasn’t just that, either. Vanessa was a world-class driver from a longstanding family of world-class drivers. She knew it, too, and courted controversy by telling any and every reporter she met just how much better she was than any other racer in her generation. At least including the ones whose names she remembered.

“Well?” she asked, looking at Kit.

Kit blinked brown eyes.

“Well… what?”

“Are you going to let me in or not? Don’t you have a key or something?”

“Oh,” Kit floundered in their bright, high voice. “I don’t… um… I don’t work here. Not yet, anyway! I guess I’m here for my next interview…? Or something.”

They added the last part hastily—as if they couldn't quite believe they were at the race team headquarters in the first place.

“Mmm,” Vanessa mumbled in her lower, smoother tone. “Well, if you get the job, make sure to let me in promptly every morning. I’m going to be coming in and out of here a lot , and I am fucking freezing.”

Kit stood puzzled for a moment. They could see why the wealthy woman might be cold. They could, in fact, see the end result. Vanessa was wearing a low-cut black T-shirt beneath her jacket and, apparently, no bra. Kit was suddenly acutely aware of their own stiff nipples as they saw the lovely points pressing towards them. Thankfully, their own, much more modest breasts didn’t show through the windbreaker.

“Oh! I’m not actually—” they began.

Before they could explain, the dark glass doors swung open, letting a rush of blessedly warm air wash over both drivers.

The pair looked to see a tall woman in an actual three-piece suit of dark gray. She wore a welcoming smile and two very expensive (to Kit’s eyes) earrings that certainly looked like diamonds. Her dark brown hair was swept back into a low ponytail that lent her square, intense features the look of a model professional, despite her slightly showy old-fashioned attire.

“There you two are,” she said. Her voice was strong against the breeze, but welcoming just the same. “Sorry for the wait. We were just prepping a few things. Come in, come in!”

She waved Kit and Vanessa into what looked like a plain office lobby. Nobody was manning the desk at the other end of the room, which maybe explained why they had been left to chill. In fact, nobody else appeared to be in the reception area at all. 

That hardly mattered, though. What mattered was the inside air was thick with cozy heat. Both drivers relaxed visibly as the atmosphere wrapped them like a blanket. The businesswoman added to the ambience with an equally warm smile.

“I’m sure you can already tell, but we’re still a very new operation. The whole building is just terribly understaffed. Well, I suppose that’s part of why you’re both here, of course!”

Kit nodded politely, while Vanessa said, “The first thing you should get the new girl here to do is redecorate. No wonder you’re having trouble finding the right people. Driving up, I thought this place was a dentist’s office.”

Kit bit their lip, but the businesswoman interjected first.

“Ah! There's that Vanden sense of humor I’ve heard so much about,” she cooed. “Of course, you already know Kit here will be your team partner. If you both accept your contracts, that is. They will be working and training very closely with you. I’m Zarina Park, by the way, if you hadn’t guessed. We spoke over the phone.”

“Contracts?” Kit asked, not quite hiding a flash of gratitude for the pointed way Ms. Park had used their correct pronouns. “You don’t even want to see us drive first? We’ve already got contracts?”

Vanessa gave Kit a not-entirely-pleasant glance—almost as irritated to have made a mistake as she was to have had it pointed out in front of her—before she regained her composure and turned to wait for Ms. Park’s answer as well.

“If you want them,” she said. “And I have people to watch you for me. I trust my scouts to scout. Just like I trust drivers to drive, cooks to cook, and my secretary to wear short skirts.”

The blue comment turned Kit red. Vanessa looked unimpressed.

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding,” Ms. Park continued. “What I’m saying is that Oberhoff is a new brand with a new way of doing things.”

The Oberhoff executive held the door open wide. Vanessa pushed past her without comment while Kit waited a moment—sparing a parting glance for the headquarters’ unused test track.

I’m gonna be the first person to drive on that, Kit thought. Not the first poor kid from nowhere, not the first queer person, or the first enby. Just the first.

Ms. Park walked them past the front desk to a set of elevators and pressed the call button. Kit noticed for the first time that the businesswoman also trailed a very pungent perfume. The drivers drifted along in its wake and felt the scent settle around them in the thick, soothing air as they waited for the door.

Kit took a quiet, deep breath and tried to identify the smell (something like oleander). Vanessa moved to rub the smell out of her nose, but stopped for fear of ruining her impeccable makeup. It wasn’t that bad, anyway. It was really quite pleasant, in fact.

“We’re more concerned with building said brand than the bottom line for the time being. That means giving our new fans what they want: entertainment. And I already believe both of you can offer something very special to our corporate identity.”

The three of them shuffled into the yellow-lit elevator, soft muzak playing from an overhead speaker. With the trio confined together, Kit and Vanessa smelled the other woman's perfume more acutely than ever, though Ms. Park hardly seemed to notice.

“So you mostly want us because we’re, like, marketable? We’ll get people talking…?”

Kit chose their words carefully so as not to upset their prospective employer—the first person to even mention a contract to them in two years. At the same time, they couldn’t entirely hide the disappointment in their voice. They wanted to be recognized for their skill and hard work; not just being a pretty face or a surprising headline.

“Well,” Ms. Park said. “Drivers that don’t compete don’t stay in the spotlight for very long, do they? Rest assured, you’re both here for every last one of your attributes.”

Vanessa spoke next, her outsized personality somewhat undermined by her short stature once they were all standing so close together. That and the fact that she had to speak over Ms. Park’s shoulder made her look less in control than usual.

“Of course I have a lot to offer you ,” she trampled on. “I’m waiting to see what you can offer me that I can’t get from a more established organization.”

Vanessa didn’t like feeling on her back foot. Her family name meant she never had to be. She had the best instructors, the best test cars and, frankly, the most natural talent. Other artists and athletes might have resented being funneled into a lifestyle chosen by their parents; luckily, she enjoyed every second she spent racing, whether it was against opposing drivers or anyone else in life.

She intended to take the Oberhoff contract, of course. But Vanessa needed to do her own mood-setting. She had to show the owner who really ran the show, now that she was here.

That was the whole point of signing up with a no-name team. Vanessa conquered anything and everyone. Except, of course, her aforementioned heritage. Raising up a team of her own from rags to riches would be just the thing to prove she was queen of the track, with or without her privileged upbringing. 

“Freedom,” Ms. Park replied over her shoulder. “I said that Oberhoff wants brand recognition. Recognition means attention. In the age of social media, that means courting controversy. Controversy that more established teams would rather avoid.”

The tall woman turned fully to face Kit and Vanessa, hooking her thumbs into the pockets of her vest. Her posture was self-assured, even in the face of a woman just as wealthy (and probably a hundred times more famous) as she, while her smile was calm. Almost… condescending. 

As if she was patiently trying not to laugh at Vanessa and her bluster, Kit thought.

Vanessa just felt challenged.

“Frankly, you have a bit of a reputation, Ms. Vanden. One that my organization values, but which might otherwise make finding a role elsewhere… difficult for you.”

Vanessa flushed, then scowled. The heiress opened her mouth to say more, but Ms. Park carried on.

“Your attention-seeking behavior is a perfect fit for our needs, however. We know exactly how to handle a driver with such low self-esteem that she feels the need to put down her peers at every opportunity just to feel like a winner.”

“E-Excuse me!?” Vanessa sputtered. “I do not have—”

“Hush, darling.”

To Kit’s surprise, Vanessa hushed. Even the heiress seemed shocked as she blinked green eyes and pressed her lips together uncertainly.

“You should really learn from Kit here,” Ms. Park added. “They have the right attitude.”

“M-Me?” Kit had almost begun to think the two women had forgotten about her. “What did I do?”

“Nothing, dear,” Ms. Park said. “Which is exactly my point. You know how to relax and have fun. You understand the value of letting go and enjoying yourself! It might make you seem a bit… slow, for a racer, but that’s okay so long as you’ve already got the job, isn’t it?”

“I…” Kit started. “Umm…” The music and the warmth and the gentle smell of Ms. Park’s perfume certainly added up to a relaxing atmosphere. Kit had gone from shivering and apprehensive just moments before to comfy and nicely drowsy and tentatively excited in the slow-moving lift. 

The promise of a contract would certainly put their mind at ease for the first time in years. They never had a chance to relax. They were always working. Always trying their hardest. It did seem nice to slow down for just a moment...

Just how long had the trio been riding, anyway? Had it really been minutes? And were they going up or down? Kit wasn’t actually sure—didn't even know where they were going. They felt so relaxed listening to Ms. Park that they hadn't thought to ask. 

Hadn’t Ms. Park just asked them a question?

"Yes,” they blurted, standing up just a bit straighter. “It's... good. Really good.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. Ms. Park just kept smiling and repeated calmly, “You just love to relax and have fun.”

“Uh, yeah,” Kit agreed. “For sure! Why not…?"

It seemed like the right answer. Not to mention, they weren’t about to disagree with the woman offering them a contract—all that peace of mind—sight unseen.

Besides… Kit did love to have fun. Who didn’t? They had had so little time to relax in their life. Money and networking and honing their skills took so much effort. It was nice to just let go and let themself be rewarded for a change.

“See?” asked Ms. Park, directing her question back at Vanessa. “Though I think it’s wonderful optics that you want to impress the team owner so badly, Ms. Vanden. You really put on a different act in public."

Vanessa didn’t know what to say. She opened her mouth again, but simply couldn't make it move. For whatever reason, she couldn’t seem to make herself disagree. Even holding the woman’s gaze for long. It was difficult. She felt like a child talking to a teacher. It made her feel so… insecure.

That didn’t seem right. She always acted so confidently and everyone followed in her wake. You were supposed to listen to people more confident than you and trust that they knew what they were doing. She… put on such a good act. 

But now Ms. Park sounded so much more confident than her and positively loomed over Vanessa, leaving her feeling small and exposed by comparison. Even the taller woman’s smell was overpowering. Confident. Well, Ms. Park was the team owner, after all. She trusted Vanessa to drive. Maybe Vanessa could trust her to… own? Manage. Trust her to manage.

The elevator doors finally dinged open. Ms. Park ushered the suddenly very quiet duo out, down a windowless, carpeted hall to a nondescript office door. They didn’t protest. They just went where Ms. Park directed: Kit because it was so much easier to let someone else do all the work, and Vanessa because Ms. Park seemed to know where they were supposed to go.

Their destination wasn’t nearly so bland as the rest of the building. Although it was the size of a conference room, the only table inside was pushed against one wall. The space was instead dominated by a pair of large, cushioned racing chairs seemingly built into the floor. Both faced ahead, parallel to one another. 

The seats’ backs were thicker than they should be and, in both cases, bulged with some sort of control panel attached to various metal and plastic doodads poking from other parts of the chairs. Most conspicuously, both sported large, plastic headsets extended above them from flexible metal arms. Running up each arm was a tangle of cables leading to the back and sides of the headsets. Presumably, whoever occupied them was meant to wear the helmet-like things while someone worked the buttons from behind.

“O-Oh!” said Kit as the group entered. They raised a hand to their mouth in surprise—looking not at the strange-looking seats and matching devices (though those were odd enough), but at their presumed operators. “Oh my goodness.” 

Vanessa snorted. She was reacting to the pair of gorgeous women, both bent slightly at the waist and checking something at each chair’s rear panel.

One was almost as tall as Ms. Park with blunt, black bangs and matching dark lipstick and nails. The other was a curvy, curly-haired redhead with freckles dappling her cheekbones and shoulders.

Kit and Vanessa could see far more than shoulders, though. Both women wore identically skimpy outfits: a sort of one-piece swimsuit made of latex in Team Oberhoff gold. The garment ran up the belly, over the hips, all the way to a white collar at each girl’s throat. Though there was a shiny, transparent window to show off the inside swell of their breasts.

This was matched by a great deal of side cleavage, seeing as the “swimsuit” hugged only the center of the torso like a skintight apron. From the women's bent-over positions, Kit and Vanessa could also tell the one-pieces didn’t cover the derriere well at all. They rode up high and deep in the back, revealing their perfectly round butts to everyone in the room, with the fabric reappearing between their cheeks like magic.

The girls were covered a bit more in the back by a pair of pleated skirts. These were so short as to draw the eye more than they actually cover anything, however. The same went for the high-heeled thigh boots with “OBERHOFF” written lengthwise in white block letters down one leg on each woman.

The girls grinned with practiced, professional seductiveness as they stopped what they were doing to approach and stand side-by-side before Ms. Park. Huge hoop earrings wobbled to a stop with the rest of them as they clasped their gold-painted fingernails behind their bare backs.

“You did say you want to court controversy,” Vanessa sighed. “But race queens in this day and age? Don’t you think that's just a bit tacky?”

“I gotta say, I really didn’t expect this, either,” Kit said. “Y’know, not from a team that hires, um, a more diverse team of drivers...”

“I’m well aware that using professional models is considered somewhat old-fashioned,” Ms. Park explained. “But just like you, our girls are highly trained and serve many different functions beyond just being pretty faces. Isn’t that right, darlings?”

“Uh-huh,” said the tall and goth-y looking one. “Totally, Ms. Park! We do lotsa stuff!”

The shortstacked redhead just giggled beside her, the sides of her breasts bouncing within her boob window and out of the garment at the sides.

Kit blushed again and politely lowered their gaze. “U-Um, why are they dressed like that?” they added. “Right now, I mean. Isn’t this a private facility?”

Vanessa was less polite, but obviously just as embarrassed. She covered it with a veneer of indignation: “I swear, if you reached out expecting me to dress like… that as some kind of publicity stunt, I won’t just walk. I’ll sue you, your team, and this whole place into gravel. I’m a professional, not some salacious bimbo!”

“I assure you that these girls are quite professional,” Ms. Park began. “As I said, we hire to make use of every employee’s attributes, not just promoting brand awareness. They serve very important clerical roles here at headquarters. We also find they boost employee morale and investor interest by proudly displaying their Oberhoff uniforms. Some other designs are in production, but everyone at the company signed their contracts with a full understanding of our shared vision. Like I told you: controversy gets attention.”

“Whatever. Fine. Let’s just get this over with,” Vanessa sighed, pushing past Ms. Park and her “girls” to the table by the wall.

Kit finally noticed the pair of paper stacks laid out and waiting for them. Vanessa was already scanning her contract by the time they nervously stepped forward, picking up a nearby pen in preparation.

They stifled a gasp while Vanessa absentmindedly clicked her own pen.

The annual salary was more than Kit made in ten years. The specific terms were… honestly a bit over their head, but there was no denying that that many zeros would keep them very comfortable for some time. All while doing what they loved.

“I don’t usually sign anything without one of daddy’s lawyers around, but I guess this looks fine,” Vanessa said. 

In truth, she had absolutely no understanding of what the document said, beyond the fact that they did appear to be full-time positions under Oberhoff Racing, a subsidiary of something called Aurum International. She simply wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Once she started racking up wins, she’d be running the place and could renegotiate the legalese as she pleased.

In either case, she quickly scribbled ‘Vanessa Karstellina Vanden’ on the dotted line, flipped to a new page, and repeated the process. Kit raised an eyebrow at their prospective coworker’s full name, then hesitated before adding their own. While they couldn't afford a lawyer, they usually at least read their contracts closely. But if Vanessa thought it looked alright...

"Well,” Kit added. "Guess I have to make the leap at some point.” They held their breath as they appended 'Kit Basra' to the bottom of the document, only letting a wave of relief and relaxation wash over them as the ink began to dry.

“Fantastic,” Ms. Park said with a clap. "Now we can get started.”

“Started with wh— Ah!”

The two scantily clad women suddenly flanked Kit and Vanessa, taking each by one arm. They guided the two drivers to the enormous chairs and nudged them to sit. Vanessa protested for a few moments while Kit did as they were bid.

“With the formalities out of the way, I don’t see any reason we shouldn’t start familiarizing you with Oberhoff right away,” Ms. Park explained. “We have our own way of doing things, as I’ve said. That includes this cutting edge virtual reality training equipment.”

“What the hell do I need training for?” Vanessa grumbled. “My family owns its own test track. There’s nothing some silly video game can teach me.”

Ms. Park ignored her completely, leaning over Kit’s throne instead. Her perfume once again drifted around Kit, and the driver found themself relaxing into the cushions as the comforting scent combined with the blanket-like warmth of the inside air.

It was a very comfortable seat, with deep cushions one could really sink into and spread between and relax on. Sink and relax and let go…

“You’re quite pleased with the arrangement, aren’t you Kit? You have nothing to worry about.”

“Mmmm,” Kit mumbled without looking. That was strange. When had they closed their eyes?

Oh well. It was easier to answer the first question. “Uh, yes. Very pleased.”

They didn’t need to worry about money or finding a team anymore. They could just relax, relax, relax…

Vanessa pulled her perfectly painted lips back in a snarl as Ms. Park kept her attention on the other driver. Vanessa had asked a question! Why on Earth was she looking at Kit and not her? It made no sense! Vanessa was supposed to have the situation under control. She was supposed to… catch her attention. Not this nobody!

“You understand Oberhoff,” the businesswomen cooed. “You don’t mind the uniforms or the controversy or the attention. You know it’s all in good fun. You’ve had so little of that in your life, but now you can simply relax and have all the fun you want.”

“Mhmm,” Kit assented. “Yeah. Fun…”

They began to smile slightly as they melted deeper into the chair.

It wasn’t just their body loosening up in the luxurious seat now that such a great weight had been lifted off their shoulders. It was also the literal weight of the headphones being lowered onto them. The black-haired model had appeared again to place the device snugly over Kit’s ears.

They suddenly heard vaguely familiar music floating in through the cabled device. Just like in the elevator, the air and music and perfume combined to make them feel relaxed and groggy and oh-so-fun. Especially now that they had nothing to worry about. They had signed a contract. Everything was fine.

“Like Vanessa said, it’s just a game,” Ms. Park continued. “Something fun and easy for a nicely relaxed little sweetheart like you.”

“Ooh,” they said softly. “Right. I mean, I don’t mind or anything. I’ve, erm, used simulators and stuff before.”

One of the race queens moved the headset on its metal arm, lowering it slowly over their eyes and ears, to punctuate this. It was a snug fit, with twin VR screens nearly pressing into Kit’s face. Soft headphones muffled the sound of the world around them.

“This is a little bit different,” the manager continued as she circled behind the chairs. She was leaning beside Vanessa now. “Think of it like ‘training’ more than practice. Mandatory training. Something to guide you on how to behave at Oberhoff.”

She looked down at Vanessa with a condescending gaze just as she spoke the last sentence.

Vanessa meant to say she understood already, and that they should get on with this, too. Unfortunately, that sweet-smelling perfume distracted her, just as it must have done in the elevator. It was just so strong and… overpowering… like Ms. Park… It was hard for someone so insecure to focus on her own thoughts when the woman even smelled more confident than Vanessa.

“You’ll behave now, won’t you, Vanessa?”

She placed a firm, soft hand on Vanessa’s shoulder, and the driver could feel herself sinking into the seat under the taller woman’s watchful eye. Her muscles loosened just enough that her head tilted forward automatically, drooping in what could be construed as the barest hint of a nod.

“Uhhh…” Her jaw relaxed as she looked at the figure towering above her, so tall from this angle, and nodded politely. “Y-Yeah. I understand. Obviously.”

“Good girl,” Ms. Park purred. “I find it very impressive when a nervous little debutante like yourself knows her place. We won’t have any problems with that pesky lack of confidence if you just continue to understand your true place and do as you’re told. Just like you said you would.”

“W-What? That’s not what I said, you b— Haaahhh..."

Soft music filled Vanessa’s ears just as the sharp smell had pierced her nostrils. The world went quiet and pillowy as the redhead snugly situated the headset around her. 

It was a familiar, comforting sensation. One that made her feel safe and wrapped up tight. Just let someone else make the decisions. Just like her parents always had. Behave. Know her place. As long as she listened to what she was told, someone else would take care of things like slipping on her headphones. Ms. Park had said she was so impressed, too. Was that really so bad?

“What… was I…?” she added. “Umm, what were you just saying?”

“I was just telling you how happy I am with your eager-to-please attitude, Vanessa. You’re so, so much more agreeable than everyone says you are. That tough, competitive attitude really is just an act, like I suspected. You’re really a very courteous little worker doing her best to please her employer. You do want to please me, don’t you?”

“Yesss,” Vanessa let out with a relieved hiss of tension. “That’s right. I’m just, uh… eager to do my best.”

Of course that was true. Vanessa wasn’t very confident, so she always had to try her best to be the best. To impress her family. To win. Nothing came easily to her. But it was so easy if she just listened to someone smarter and more confident and self-assured.

Someone like who? She had been talking to Ms. Park about something. Ms. Park… Her manager. The team owner. It must have been her. Vanessa really, really wanted to impress Ms. Park, after all. And she was so impressed with girls who knew their place and behaved. 

Well, that worked out perfectly! Vanessa just had to do as she was told, and she would impress her boss, and her boss would tell her how to impress her more. Perfect for someone who always wants to impress but isn’t good enough or confident enough to do it on her own. Just let Ms. Park decide. That would impress Ms. Park…

Vanessa grinned conspiratorially. She hardly even noticed as the headset swiveled away in front of her.

“How do you two feel now?” Ms. Park asked, stepping away from the chairs to look at them both.

Each driver slurred something that might have been “great” or “wonderful” into the thick air. The two other women giggled in their overstuffed costumes.

Ms. Park perched herself on the long table where the contracts had been placed and nodded. The attendants pressed big, shiny buttons at the back of each chair at her gesture.

The lights in the room dimmed, replaced by a slightly flickery pattern on each screen. They showed identical, abstract race tracks. Three dots sped up and slowed down around its loops, going round and round in a smooth ouroboros.

That drew in Kit and Vanessa’s attention. The loading icon quickly morphed in a much larger circle: an Oberhoff “O” in bright, glowing pink instead of the usual gold. One that pulsed softly into more pink rings that floated to the edge of the screen in rhythmic brightness. Neither could see it, but the pink circles reflected off their eyes in the dark, pulsing in tandem with the headset screens. Their mouths quickly followed suit. Each formed a little "O” of surprise at the sudden stimulation entering their rapidly widening eyes.

“Hello,” came a soft, androgynous voice between the waves of soothing music in both drivers’ ears. “Welcome to the Team Oberhoff Training and Condition Monitoring Suite. Please pay careful attention for the duration of your session.”

Lacking anything else to do, Kit’s bulging eyes continued to obsess over the rings as the voice spoke. They drank in more pink light as the calm cadence smoothed over any worries that tried to bubble to the surface. Vanessa followed much the same pattern, albeit with a slightly sterner look on her otherwise dazed face.

“Note that the Team Oberhoff Training and Condition Monitoring Suite obeys all currently listed rules and regulations of international racing. By watching this training program, you also agree to obey.”

The screen flickered almost imperceptibly before both drivers at the slightly stilted pronunciation of “obey.” Yet it disappeared so quickly the pair wondered if they hadn’t just imagined it.

“Please answer the following questions truthfully and to the best of your ability,” the voice said to Kit. “There are no wrong answers.”

“Hu-Huh? But what about—”

“Your teammate cannot hear you. You may relax and let go. Focus instead on answering truthfully and to the best of your ability. Don’t worry about anything else. Don’t think about anything else. Just obey the sound of my voice and its instructions to proceed.”

“Answer truthfully,” Kit said. “Umm… 'Kay."

“You like racing, don’t you?”

“Huh? Uh, yes.”

“You like racing because it is fun.”

“Yes.”

“It stands to reason, then, that you like to have fun.”

Kit paused for a moment. There were no wrong answers, the voice had said, but that wasn’t even really a question. How were they supposed to respond? 

Well, they were supposed to just relax and focus on answering truthfully, so... 

“Uh-huh,” they agreed. “Sure.”

Of course they liked to have fun. Everyone did. It was a silly question, or a statement, or whatever, but it was the truth. And Kit could really start to have fun now that money would no longer be an issue. She didn't need to worry anymore. Didn't need to think. Just answer truthfully... 

“There are many kinds of fun,” the computer continued. “You don’t just have fun when racing.”

“Yeah.”

More silly, obvious truth. Nothing worth worrying about. Just focus and relax and answer honestly.

“You like to have fun in all kinds of ways.”

“I... suppose.”

“Please answer with ‘yes’ or an equivalent affirmative.”

“What?” Kit was confused, but the word came out soft and almost giggly. They were so relaxed and sunken into their comfy chair. It was hard not to think this was all so silly and nothing to worry about at all. “But you said—”

“There are no wrong answers,” the computer finished for them. “The Team Oberhoff Training and Condition Monitoring Suite will always direct you to the correct answer instead. Now, please confirm that you like to have fun in all kinds of ways.”

“Uhhh…”

The music playing in Kit’s ears intensified almost imperceptibly, while the pink rings of light in their field of view brightened, pouring sugary data into their mind as yet another phrase flashed on the screen too fast to read.

“Say you like to have fun in all kinds of ways,” the machine repeated. “Do it.”

“I like to have fun in all kinds of ways,” Kit said. “Yes.”

The light redoubled and sound shifted and the enby was bowled over with a sudden feeling of pleasure. They arched their back slightly away from their seat with the sensation, trying to focus and hold onto the feeling as long as possible before it abruptly subsided.

When it did, they slumped back into the chair with an audible release of air from the cushions. Their eyes, now wide as milk saucers, stared forward as their mouth dropped stupidly agape.

“Having fun in ways other than racing makes you happy,” the voice pressed. “You just had a lot of fun when you answered the previous question truthfully and to the best of your ability, didn’t you?”

“Yes…”

Another pleasure shot directly to the cortex. Kit let out a tiny gasp this time, alongside a thin line of drool down the center of their bottom lip. The sensation felt so good it was honestly making them a little dizzy.

“It’s normal to be a little dizzy when you’re happy. You can’t help but relax and giggle when you're having so much fun. You can just keep on relaxing and having fun. Giggling is fun, so it only makes you happier. Being happy makes you dizzier. Ditzier.”

“Y-Yes~! Uh, wait, did you just—”

“Ditzy sounds just like dizzy, doesn't it? So they’re practically the same thing. You’re too relaxed and having too much fun to worry about the difference, so let’s just say you’re both.”

“Uhhh, I don’t—”

“Please answer with ‘yes’ or an equivalent affirmative,” the machine interrupted again. “You’re a relaxed, fun-loving dizzy ditz who loves to giggle.”

“Yesss~” Kit agreed slowly, then more quickly as joy filled their brain yet again. “Oh, God, yes! Yes! Yes!”

“One way a dizzy ditz like you has fun is by dressing up, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” Kit agreed. “Dressing up is sooo fun!”

“That’s right, Kit. That’s the truth. There are no wrong answers here, so everything I tell you is true.”

“Ungh…” Kit moaned under their latest wave of pleasure. “Uh-huh!”

They were fully drooling now. Right down the unzipped gap at the top of their windbreaker, staining their shirt with dribble. They didn’t mind or, more accurately, even notice. They just stared forward at the pink-tinted pattern on the screen, absorbing the increasingly frequent flashes of words and images.

Kit saw people on the headset screen now. Mostly girls, but some boys and people they strongly suspected were nonbinary like them. All were dressed in cute clothes: bright colors, frilly dresses, short skirts, skimpy tops, delicate heels. All of them were laughing and giggling and kissing and having fun. Just like Kit liked to do. Right?

“You’ve always liked to dress up, Kit. It’s one of the many, many ways you like to have fun. One of the ways you've always liked to have fun. But, let’s be honest, you don’t just like to wear nice clothes.”

“I don’t?”

“No. You like to dress sexy. You always wear skimpy clothes. You love to show off lots and lots of skin – daring your friends, coworkers, even complete strangers to look at the happy, relaxed, dizzy ditz. They look happy when they see you dressed so sexy, and if they’re happy, they must be having fun! If they’re having fun because of you, you must be having fun, too.”

The memory slotted neatly into Kit’s overstimulated brain. Mini-skirts. Short shorts. Skintight dresses. Bikini tops. Lacy lingerie. High heels. Stockings squeezing their thighs. They could see it all and more in their mind’s eye. In fact, they could quite literally see it in front of them as the images grew more and more risque while burning into Kit’s malleable mind.

Just… like always! No wonder making people happy made Kit so happy. They had fond memories of scenes just like that: bouncing and jiggling, skimpy and sexy, pretty clothes for everyone to enjoy. Just like... Just like a—

“What do you call a ditzy, dizzy airhead who likes to make other people stare at their body, Kit?”

“A slut,” they answered immediately, finishing the train of thought they had started well before the machine had even asked. “I dress like a slut!”

“That’s one word for it,” the voice praised with another skull-piercing shock of bliss. “Tell me more.”

“Umm… Tramp. Floozy. A harlot!” They racked their brain for an answer as the happy, warm, giggly feeling began to fade. They needed another right answer to feel good. To have fun. “A whore?”

“That’s right. Remember, there are no wrong answers. You like to dress up like all those things and more. It’s so fun and relaxing and makes you so happy and dizzy and ditzy. What’s another word for that, Kit?”

“Bimbo!” they blurted happily. “I dress like a bimbo!”

The strongest jolt of pleasure yet assailed them. They dug nails into armrests and spread their legs wide for stability, pressing their knees into the sides of the seat.

Pink, soothing waves calmed them back down. Albeit slowly. 

“That’s right, Kit,” the voice said. “A bimbo. That’s what you call a ditzy, dizzy whore like you loves to have fun and dress like a slut. You’re so easygoing and relaxed and so ready to let go. Always submissive and ready to let other, smarter people have fun with you. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” Kit panted to no one in particular. “I’m such a bimbo! It’s so much fun!”

“Bimbos aren’t very smart, of course. You have such a tough time thinking when you’re so busy having fun all the time. That’s never been a problem for you, though. Not when you’re so fun and flirty and sexy all the time. Lots and lots of people will happily think for you when you’re a silly, pretty bimbo. It’s like a reward. A way to thank them for helping a big, dumb ditz like you and help them have fun.”

“Ye— Umm… Wait.” 

Kit faltered. That didn’t seem right. They definitely dressed like a bimbo and loved to have fun like a bimbo. They were also kinda submissive and ditzy. That was all true. It made them happy. But they could still think for themselves if they wanted to. They had to! 

Kit had worked so super hard to become a professional driver. They weren’t like those cute, sexy girls who worked for Ms. Park. Even if they preferred to dress like them. That was a choice.

“N-No… I’m not.... That’s not… true. Is it?”

A pang of resistance held out against this more insulting image of Kit’s self. That was alright. The program simply let the subliminal messages it had been pumping into Kit continue.

“That’s okay, Kit,” the voice eventually added. “There are no wrong answers. You’ll learn the right one eventually. You've already had a very big day. For now, it’s time to sleep. You’re so, so sleepy, aren't you? So relaxed and ready to nod right off.”

Kit felt a short, sharp prick in their rear as the machine spoke. Something in the machine had just poked them! On the bright side, it hardly hurt at all. It just felt warm and tingly.

“Wuzzat… ‘sposed to mean?” Kit asked, echoing Vanessa’s bluster from earlier. “M’not… uhhh… sleepy…”

That wasn’t true. Kit was exhausted from the blasts of joy rocking their body. They were sweating, too, confined in such strangely constricting attire as they were. What had they been thinking, coming to a job interview in such ugly clothes?

“Yes, you are,” the voice chided. “You’re a dizzy, drowsy ditz who’s been working and thinking much too hard. Now you’re ready to sleep. So ready, in fact, that you’ll fall right into a deep, happy sleep the instant I finish counting backwards from three.”

“Ummm, I don’ think tha’s—”

“You won’t remember a single thing we talked about when you wake up,” the program interrupted. “You’ll simply know everything we discussed is absolutely true as if it was your own idea. Your own memory. You’ve always been a sexy, slutty bimbo.”

“A-Always…” Kit agreed. “Bimbooo… But, wait, I’m not—”

“Three,” said the voice. “You’re so tired you can’t keep your eyes open.”

Kit felt their eyelids drop sharply.

“Uhh…”

“Two,” the voice continued. “You’re too tired to move. Your breathing is so deep and heavy.”

Kit sighed and somehow sank even lower into their cushions.

“One. Sleep.”

And they did. Their flickering eyes fell all the way down. As did their chin, as their head drooped against their chest—helmet still surrounding them with soothing melodies.

Just a few feet away, things weren’t going quite so smoothly for Vanessa.

“Please answer with ‘yes’ or an equivalent affirmative,” the androgynous voice repeated.

“Nooo,” Vanessa said for the second time, though it was weaker than before. Less forceful. “Nobody tells me what t’do.”

“Of course not,” the program countered. “That’s why you already agree with every statement we’ve said. We’re just confirming what you already believe. This is what you already remember, Vanessa.”

“Uh… Huh?”

The music grew louder while the pink circles intensified, sucking at her gaze and causing her head to list forward—just as they had with Kit. Something flashed on the screen again as Vanessa focused intensely on the space before her. Then another phrase (or perhaps it was an image this time) did the same. Then another. And another…

“That’s why you will answer yes to the following questions,” the machine repeated. “These are your own thoughts and opinions. Nobody tells you what to do or what to think but yourself. You want to say yes.”

“Unhh…” Vanessa groaned. Her eyes were huge now, even as her lips were pursed together in an idiotic pout. Saliva drained from the tiny opening as her head tilted farther forward into the lights, liquid pouring down between her breasts. “Y-Yesss... Tha’s right. Only saying yes… cuz I wanna.”

There was a change in the music’s tone, and suddenly Vanessa shook with a shot of pleasure. Her sticky tits wobbled in their T-shirt.

“That's very good,” the computer continued. Before Vanessa could protest, it added, “That’s why you agree. Why you remember being so compliant. You always do your best to win. Nothing but your best is good enough to win, and we know what’s best for you. And you love to win.”

“Uh-huh,” she agreed. “Love to win.”

The machine gave a slightly subtler command to her brain to shoot her up with endorphins again before continuing.

“You love to win in all kinds of ways,” it said. “Racing comes naturally to you, so it’s perfect for a meek, diffident little daddy’s girl like you to succeed. But you wish you could win at lots of different things, right, Vanessa?”

“Umm…” She faltered for a moment. “Right?”

Another low-pitched surge of subliminal commands told her to feel good. To feel pleasure.

Vanessa was meek. She lacked confidence. She wished she could do more than drive, but it was so difficult for a daddy’s girl like her to try new things. She was so scared of not winning… Because winning made her feel so good! Just like the music and the voice and the flashing slides in front of her arrested gaze.

They seemed to be flashing in her head now, too. Each sudden appearance was too fast to register consciously, but came with its own minor pang of pleasure, so she simply accepted… whatever it was the images were trying to tell her with a quick shake of her hips and surprised bliss.

“Dressing up is another way to win,” the computer told her. “Whoever gets the most attention is a kind of winner. That’s why you like to show off your tits and thighs and ass so much, Vanessa. That’s why you always dress like such a slut. Sluts are winners.”

“Such… Such a slut… R-Right!”

Recollection of past outfits—hardly more than swimsuits or lingerie, and sometimes just that—flashed rapidly across the screen and shimmered into her memory. 

She loved to show off her body. It really made people pay attention to her. Vanessa couldn’t bring herself to believe she was as pretty as her other rich friends, but that’s why she showed off so, so much more of herself. She had to try her hardest to make up for natural talent. It made her look like a slut in the process, but people paid attention to sluts, and that was all that mattered!

“You had quite a strong reaction to the Oberhoff models’ official outfits, didn't you?”

Did she? She supposed that sounded right. The company race queens were so much prettier than her. They were showing off so much more skin. Why wasn’t she dressed like that? They had already gotten jobs at Oberhoff before Vanessa. Clearly they were beating her for attention. Ms. Park’s attention… 

Ms. Park would know what to do. She had told those girls to dress sexy and slutty and get lots of attention. It was the perfect loop. Vanessa knew that. But how come she hadn’t dressed all slutty when coming to see Ms. Park, then? 

When Vanessa didn’t answer right away, the program added: “It was so very smart of you to wait and check out the competition before picking the appropriate dress. A subdued, submissive little thing like you needs every edge she can get over pretty girls like them. You were right to wait for Ms. Park to tell you how to dress and think."

“Ooh,” Vanessa groaned. “Yeah… Of course! Ms. Park knows best. Gotta dress my best.”

“Even sluttier,” the machine corrected.

“Yesss… So much sluttier! Super slutty!”

The submissive slut nodded crookedly, dribbling more drool down her chin and the side of her mouth as she listened and agreed and remembered with perfect clarity.

“What else do sluts do, Vanessa?”

She squinted a bit at that. As much as her bug-eyed stare would allow, anyway. 

It wasn’t a yes or no question. She couldn’t just agree. She agreed with everything the machine said; they were her own thoughts and memories, after all. The voice sounded sooo confident about that.

In this case, she guessed she just had to tell the machine what she usually thought sluts did.

“Sluts, um, make love,” she answered. “They, uhhh, have lots and lotsa partners.”

“A slut wouldn’t say ‘make love,’ Vanessa. You’re a slut, aren’t you? Say what you really mean.”

“S-Sluts…” she started. She felt odd about continuing, even though there was no reason to be. These were just her own opinions. The machine knew that. She had to trust the nice, confident voice. “Sluts have lo~ots of sex.”

“Closer, but not quite, Vanessa. Be honest with yourself. Sluts love to fuck. Fuck and suck and lick and obey whatever request their partner might make."

“F-Fuck… n’ suck… Y-Yes. Fuck n’ su- Ooohhh~!”

The machine hit her with its strongest wave of mind-numbing joy yet. She clenched her teeth with a dopey grin playing over her lips as her eyelids wobbled with a sudden lack of focus. It was like her brain had been struck with effervescent lightning, boiling her thoughts into bubbly gloop.

When it was over, she panted for breath, feeling like a real winner for getting the answer so right. She must have gotten it right, or it wouldn’t have felt so good to agree. Vanessa wanted more of that feeling. Maybe Ms. Park would know how to make her feel this way more.

“F-Fuck and suck. Fuck and suck! Fffuck n’ sssuck!”

“You love to fuck, too, don’t you, Vanessa?” the voice interrupted. “You’re a slut, after all. The best sluts love to fuck and suck all day. It’s really the best way to get more attention than the competition. It’s the only way to win. You can’t trust a subby little whore like yourself to win on her own merits, so you might as well give yourself over to lust and let your own nature win for you!”

The words came too fast and too quickly after her rapturous electrocution for Vanessa to comprehend. She knew she was supposed to agree with everything—to believe in her own thoughts and memories… but… but…

“Wh-Whore?” she repeated. “Nooo… No. M’not… Not… Um, what did you call me?”

Whores had sex for money. Vanessa had lots and lots of money. She didn’t need to have sex for that. Dressing like a slut was one thing. Making people think she might suck and fuck and fuck and suck was fine, but actually going through with it? She didn’t do that very often. She didn’t need that to get what she wanted.

“I don’t know…”

“That’s okay, Vanessa,” the voice explained calmly. “There are no wrong answers here. You’ll learn the right one eventually. For now, though, you want to sleep.”

“Sleeeep?” she droned. “I don't— Oooh... Mkay~...”

Vanessa trailed off as a small, sharp pain in her backside distracted her. Well, it didn't really hurt, exactly. In fact, it left her feeling warm and tingly and as the sensation traveled up her hips and along her thighs.

“You won’t remember a single thing we talked about when you wake up,” the program added. “You’ll simply know everything we discussed is absolutely true as if it was your own idea. Your own memory. You’ve always been a meek, overly competitive slut.”

“Mhmm,” Vanessa said quietly. “Always been a slut. Duh… I know that.”

“You want to nod off the instant I finish counting backwards from three.”

“Of course. I know what I want, dummy!”

“Three,” continued the voice. “You’re so tired you can’t keep your eyes open.”

Vanessa felt their eyelids drop sharply.

“Uhh…”

“Two,” the voice continued. “You’re too tired to move. Your breathing is so deep and heavy.”

Vanessa let out a slow breath and rested her head back against the chair.

“One. Sleep, Vanessa.”

And she did. Her flickering eyes fell all the way down. As did her head as it drooped against one shoulder, pressing Vanessa’s ear that much harder against her headphones, still gushing their soothing melodies upward into her limp skull.

The headphones came off each driver simultaneously as the Oberhoff queens lifted them gently from Kit and Vanessa. The girls shook each racer gently by the shoulder to rouse them immediately afterwards, bringing them back to groggy awareness.

“What did you think?” Ms. Park asked the pair of them.

“Think?” Kit asked in return. “I don’t… think…”

They trailed off immediately as the memory of their tongue desperately pleasing a stiff clit, distracting them from whatever thought they had tried to muster.

“It was absolutely wonderful,” Vanessa interjected in mewling, eager-to-please tones. “Truly, erm, eye-opening!”

She was, of course, lying through her teeth. The machines had apparently been so boring that Vanessa had fallen asleep almost immediately after sitting down. She couldn't remember a single question. 

Her new boss hadn’t seemed to notice, however, and she saw her opportunity to impress Ms. Park while her rival was too flustered to act. Hopefully their manager wouldn’t ask for too many specifics…

“Like, yeah!” Kit blinked several times before regaining their composure. “I mean, like, I know I enjoyed it. It felt, um, really good?”

Ms. Park smiled, giving both competitors a small flutter of excitement.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said. “You both answered one-hundred percent correctly!”

That sent a flash across both drivers’ minds. Though neither noticed the other one simultaneously twitch with a thrum of strange pleasure. 

Ms. Park very much did.

“That should be all for today,” the manager added. “You both look absolutely wiped out after your orientation! I know the program is a bit long."

"It is?” Kit fumbled for their phone with loose fingers that simply refused to apply a firm grip. When they finally saw the time, they stifled a gasp. Two hours had passed like nothing! Kit had nearly no memory of the time whatsoever. Just a general sense of calm and wellbeing and... fun?

"How is that—"

"You’ve both got a busy week ahead of you, too,” Ms. Park interjected. "You’ll no doubt want to rest up for your next session tomorrow."

“Next session?” asked Kit. 

“What next session?” added Vanessa.

“We’ve got to make sure you're properly acclimated to the Oberhoff lifestyle,” Ms Park said. “Like I said, we have a very particular way of doing things. Drawing attention to the brand is everything.”

“I— Oh... Attention,” Vanessa droned. “Of course. Need attention.”

The debutante stared blankly at Ms. Park as she spoke, jaw dropping slightly. She seemed distracted, somehow, but refocused when the team owner suddenly put a hand on her shoulder.

Kit frowned until Ms. Park touched their shoulder as well. They breathed in sharply with surprise, drinking up the businesswoman’s perfume without thinking. Their face relaxed as they did, and they looked dutifully at Ms. Park for guidance.

“I promise it’ll be so much fun,” Ms. Park assured them. “You’re going to have a lovely, happy time, Kit.”

“Fun,” Kit agreed, nodding slowly. “Ooh. Like, for sure.”

The mostly silent models flanked the drivers again, gripping them under the shoulders and helping them to their feet as Ms. Park urged them to stand next to her.

Ms. Park pressed harder on the two drivers’ shoulders, turning them in place so that all three faced the same direction. Then she pulled her new employees close until their heads nearly rested on the sides of her chest.

The two drivers gawked, nearly touching her breasts with how close she suddenly held them, but didn’t argue. They just strode alongside her like that as the owner began to lead them slowly back to the elevator—explaining how she expected them to be on their best behavior, and dressed to impress, at tomorrow’s event.

The two race queens, or secretaries, or whatever they wiggled their fingers in farewell as the dazed pair nodded along with their new boss. Kit continued to learn how much fun they were going to have, and how they needed to dress accordingly, while Vanessa was told how hard she would have to work to keep up.

Their one-sided conversation continued well after the trio were sealed inside the slow-moving lift with its soft, soothing music and Ms. Park’s potent perfume circling their heads. By the time they were back outside, both drivers had reached the same conclusion at different paces:

They were definitely going to need new outfits.