My muse wanted me to write this quick story about competitiveness instead of working on my serials. How far would a man go to top his neighbor?

It all started with lawns. Chuck Wilcox was out riding his John Deere around on his acre of grass when the corner of his eye caught Marty Nichols next door pulling a shiny new lawn tractor out of his shed. It was the Deere two models up from Chuck's, with the air-conditioned cab and tighter turning radius. He could tell by the giant grin on Marty's face that he knew perfectly well that his was better than Chuck's.

The next day he went down to the dealer and traded his mower in for the one two models higher than Marty's. His was already a year old, so it was due for replacement anyway. The look on Marty's face when the truck dropped off his new machine was priceless. But then the following week Chuck's jaw dropped when he saw that Marty was now driving around the top of the line, the commercial-grade mower made for golf courses and football fields. It was serious overkill, but he couldn't let it stand with Marty having the upper hand. Chuck went out and traded his in for one identical to Marty’s. They were tied.

Chuck started the next round by trading in his Mercedes for the biggest he could get the financing for. He could see Marty drooling every night when he pulled into the driveway. Paula told him that Marty had started arguing with his wife Rachel about whether they could afford to get a new car, and Chuck was sure that meant he won.

But then came the day Marty drove home in a new SLR convertible with a hot twenty-year-old blonde next to him. Chuck considered his options and checked around for doctors, and then tried to convince Paula to get some work done so she’d be just as sexy as Katie.

Paula said he was nuts and she’d put up with more than any wife deserved; she’d let him spend all their savings on the boat and the addition to the house for the home theater and the in ground pool that they only got to use two months of the year, but she was sick of his competing! She told him to just get it over with and just go over to Marty’s with a ruler and find out who truly was the biggest prick.

At least when she left Chuck was able to get an eighteen-year-old girlfriend. May was Japanese or something and had the flexibility of a gymnast. And after the boob job she was definitely hotter than Katie! The two girls got along even better than the old wives had. He even caught them kissing by the pool one afternoon, all topless and glistening with oil. Chuck didn’t mind, and even encouraged May to go as far as she wanted with Katie.

There was nothing sexier than lesbians, and he knew Marty knew that. If May was the first one to go down on Katie, Chuck would totally win that round. But that plan kind of backfired. The two couples were hanging out by the fence when the girls said they’d been wondering if the men would be up for trying a foursome. Marty tried to laugh it off with a golf joke, (knowing full well he had a better handicap than Chuck) but the girls were serious.

Chuck really didn’t want to have to compare himself to Marty that way. Maybe Paula had been right. He invented an appointment that he was late for, and walked out of the conversation.

A month or so later, he was watching one of May and Katie’s sex tapes and saw something new. During their kiss and cuddle intermission, a French maid in full uniform comes in and brings them a pair of champagne flutes on a silver tray. She was a little chunkier than the other girls, but seemed kind of sexy in her own way. She looked kind of familiar.

Chuck paused the tape and got May to explain who the extra girl was. He was shocked to find out that “Martinique” was actually Marty dressed up as a woman! He and Katie had started playing some serious sex games. Once May told him that Martinique had only been there to serve drinks and help clean up, and she hadn’t had sex with either Marty or Martinique, Chuck was okay with it. He asked some more questions about May knew about how far Katie and Marty had taken their games, and the idea intrigued him.

So now it wasn’t enough for Chuck to know that his girl was better looking than Marty’s, he really didn’t want Marty to beat him at sex by out-kinkying him. Chuck spent several weeks doing some soul-searching and researching to decide if he was prepared to go to the next level, and what it would take to get there.

After taking out a second mortgage on the house, forging some paperwork, paying a few bribes, and spending eleven weeks in Thailand for some very extensive surgeries, Charlaine took a nervous cab ride home from the airport. She hadn’t been in contact while she was away, and didn’t know what Martinique had been up to, and was a little worried that maybe she’d gotten some work done, too.

Maybe despite Charlaine’s button nose and pouty lips and high cheekbones she still wasn’t the prettiest. She felt a little more confident that there was no way Martinique could have gotten herself perkier tits or a tighter pussy than Charlaine; she was very proud of her body. She adjusted her boobs in her bra to make sure her dress was revealing maximum cleavage. The cabby, watching her in the rear-view mirror, nearly had an accident.

Arriving at home, she touched up her lipstick one more time before stepping out. The cab driver got her suitcase from the trunk and she gave him a kiss on the cheek in thanks. He wished her good luck with the new house as he drove off and she wasn’t sure what that meant until she saw the sign on the lawn that said “For Sale: Sold.”

This had to be some kind of a joke, she gave a little chuckle to herself and minced up the front walk. She took her keys out of her purse but she couldn’t unlock the door. Maybe her house really had been sold while she was gone. She really didn’t want to, but there was nowhere else to turn.

Walking over to the house next door, her stilettos clicked on the sidewalk as her ample hips swayed back and forth. She loved feeling so sexy, but her confusion spoiled the moment. Rolling her suitcase behind her, she went to the door and rang the bell.

Marty answered and he didn’t quite recognize Charlaine. She had to introduce herself, and he looked her over and let out a wolf whistle in appreciation. He invited her in and she delicately arranged herself on the couch before letting loose a million questions. Marty answered as many as he could.

First of all, she wanted to know why he wasn’t still Martinique. He explained that he’d only dressed up a couple of times, and hadn’t really gotten into it as much as Katie wanted him to. He hadn’t done it in quite a while, since before Chuck left.

Charlaine was devastated. She’d worked so hard to win a game without realizing that she was the only one still playing. Her eyes began tearing up, and she was grateful to be wearing longwearing waterproof mascara. Marty sat beside her and put a comforting arm around her, and she just turned and sobbed into his shoulder.

Marty didn’t realize how complete her transformation had been until Charlaine lamented all that she had given up to become the sexiest. He tried to reassure her that she was without a doubt the hottest woman who had ever graced his home, more tempting than either Katie or May, more beautiful than Rachel or Paula by far, and light years beyond Martinique. She had definitely won.

She smiled a little at that, but the megadose of hormones in her system wanted her cry anyway, but out of joy. Marty brushed the tears from her cheek and continued to hold her as he explained the rest of the story.

After Chuck left, Katie spent a lot of her time keeping May company. One thing led to another and soon they decided they really didn’t need men anymore. May sold Chuck’s house, (the only good part of the whole thing is she paid off his mortgages before taking the rest of the money) his car, his boat, and all the rest. Marty apologized for not trying to stop anything, but he hadn’t really been paying attention. With a sizeable chuck of cash, the two girls took off for California in May’s new hybrid. That had been about a month before, and he hadn’t heard from them since.

So that meant Charlaine had to start all over again. She had her suitcase full of sexy clothes and a little money in some accounts May didn’t have access to, but that was it. It would be tough, but it might be a fun kind of challenge. Marty offered his guest room to her for as long as she needed it, and even carried her bag upstairs for her.

Marty made them a nice dinner and they watched a little television before turning in. Charlaine waffled a little, but made up her mind. Dressed in a nightgown that was a mere whisper of black lace and left little to the imagination, she gently knocked on Marty’s bedroom door. She told him that she really didn’t want to be alone, and asked if she could sleep in his bed. The tent in his pajama bottoms was answer enough.

During her trip abroad, Charlaine had been trained in seventeen sexual techniques, and she used twelve of them that night. (Four of the others were strictly girl-on-girl maneuvers, and she wanted to save one for later.) As she felt Marty filling her completely without bottoming out, she finally got that measurement that Paula had joked about what seemed like a lifetime before; Marty was slightly smaller than her longest stent, which probably meant that before she got turned inside out Chuck’s was bigger.

But it really didn’t matter anymore, competing with Marty had been such a waste of those years when there were better things they could have been doing. Snuggling beside him in the afterglow, it felt like she finally got what she’d really wanted from him for so long. She’d won at last, but so had Marty.