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Racing to Perfection

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It’s been months since the former raptor Kirisha was brought closer to perfection by Echo, the most perfect anthropomorphic greyhound in existence. Now named Sterling, she helped him expand and grow his control over the city and the half of the island that it dominates. Long gone or the dull boring colors of brown, black, yellows, reds and many others. Now there is a blissful silver. Most of the city’s inhabitants have joined under Echo like herself, but not all. In time they will join, but that is not in the forefront of her mind.

“It will be so wonderful to see him again,” Sterling thinks as she walks down the silver chrome hallway that leads to his current living quarters in the city. Silver feral greyhound statues stand at attention at the massive elegantly crafted doors seemingly out of a single mold of shiny silver, but with strangely no handles on them. Sterling stops and looks over the door as she sees her own wonderful reflection on them. She poses for a moment showing off her number of seventy-four permanently part of her side in a light blue.

“Enter,” suddenly says one of the statues as Sterling jumps in surprise.

“Echo is waiting,” says the other.

Sterling shakes her head, “Well I would love to, but there appears to be no way to enter.”

“Simple walk ahead,” the two say in unison as they turn their attention to her.

“You could have said that,” she responds with a hint of arrogance as she simply walks through the doors as if they weren’t even there. The other side Sterling is greeted with a massive greyhound themed penthouse, envious of even the richest and most famous people in the world and as this thought slips into Sterling’s mind, she simply thinks.

“They should be envious of him.”

“There are you Sterling, the mirror of grandeur,” Echo says as the anthropomorphic anadromous greyhound as he elegantly walks toward her.

“You honor me sir,” says Sterling as she gives a respectful bow.

“I know,” Echo muses.

“What use do you have of me?” she asks as she stands back up, as Sterling is almost-but-not-quite a mirror image of Echo. Only her slightly more feminine features to a discerning eye would be able to know the difference between the two.

“I want you closer to me,” he says as a rush of excitement bursts through Sterling, her tail wags quickly in delight.

“But of course. It is my honor to be so close to you, I am nearly as perfect as you after all,” she replies with a coy smirk.

“You are made after me after all, I wouldn’t expect anything less, and won’t allow it either,” Echo responds as he elegantly walks close to her, “But in order to truly serve so closely to me , you need to earn it.”

“Whatever it is, it won’t be a challenge. Any task before me is well worth the reward, even if it will probably be so… trivial.”

“I’m glad you think so. For this trial will take everything you got to overcome, and only those close to the perfection that is me, have any hope of passing,” he chuckles as he reaches up and touches under Sterling’s chin. Sterling feels a rush of emotions, joy, excitement, bliss, as those silver digits caress her and then slip into her as if she was water, “Now, let’s prepare you for your trial,” states Echo with a smug grin as a warmth explodes from within Sterling’s mind and ripples outwards.

As the blissful sensation rolls across her body, it shifts, changes as she grows smaller, her digits become stubbier as canine claws poke at the end of newfound paws. Her body wobbles from side to side as her hind legs contort and change into pristine slender feral greyhound legs and within mere moments Sterling lands on all fours a perfect example of a racing greyhound with her slender body, crotch smooth and genderless, making it even harder to tell who she is outside of her number, which remains the same soft blue color permanently part of her side.

“What is this Echo?” she asks but only canine barks and woofs escape her feral lips, “This is strange, what’s up Echo?” she asks more but more barking ensues from her lips.

“Hush,” says Echo as Sterling instantly quiets and calms as Echo looks over her, the smug Echo’s muzzle reflecting in the side of Sterling’s silver shine body, “Yes, I think you have a chance, you have almost my perfection on the outside, but do you have it within? We shall see,” he says with a smirk, “After all, those near me must not only be perfect, but think perfect,” he explains as he touches under Sterling’s chin again and they both instantly “melt” into the silver floor.

Like electricity moving through wires, Echo guides Sterling through the silver of his world, and within seconds they travel across the city and slide up out of a smooth silver spot on the ground in front of a dog racetrack.

A race already in progress, the place is packed with people calling out the numbers of the hounds running through a somewhat unconventional track. Outside of the fact that everything is smooth slick silver, obstacles form and melt away to hinder the dogs’ paths as they make their laps across the track.

Many spectators are silver greyhounds like Echo, reaching towards his perfection, while others are normal anthropomorphic people, either here to make it big, or a simple distraction to their changing world.

The moment they arrive, countless eyes avert to Echo as mutter of excitement rings out through the crowd. One random orange tabby feline remarks, “What’s so great about that thing?” and before he could utter another word the silver ground under his feet shoots up like a blob and envelopes him. His form disappears into the silver ground, only to slowly rise back up as a sleek feral greyhound like Sterling. Nearby people take several steps away in shock as Echo commands, “Come,” and the newfound greyhound finds himself unable to disobey the command as he approaches.

“What happened? What is wrong with my body?” he barks out, which Sterling clearly understands, yet as she watches the reaction of the nearby crowd, it seems no one else can.

“You insulted the great Echo,” Sterling replies as she barks out her response.

“Insulted? What? But… what is wrong with my voice? How can I understand you?” he asks.

“It appears I now have two perfect hounds to send to the races,” chuckles Echo, “Now quiet, I want to see the end of this race,” he commands as Sterling sits proud and quietly while the tabby struggles and fails to resist the same urge. They watch in head unison movements the race which is near its end.

Silver Greyhounds, and rubber greyhounds with two “normal” feral greyhounds run across the track, eight dogs in all.

“And number eight is the winner!” yells the announcer as a silver greyhound with a cloth vest on its side which indicates its number passes the finish line, soon followed by several others, with one silver greyhound with a number seven sewn onto the side.

Echo hmms, “I think that is their tenth final place,” mutters Echo as the silver greyhound number seven passes the finish line, panting heavily. It looks around nervously as it takes a few steps off the track when silver metal which took the tabby springs forth from the ground and envelopes the hound. It lets out a whine which the two new hounds understand.

“No! I can still race! I can win! I promise I can win!” but then it was silenced completely, leaving simply the vest on the ground, which a sleek shiny supple female gazelle dressed in silver work clothes picks up. Her small tail flicks as she runs the vest through her black finger hooves.

“That number seven won’t be racing anymore,” she chuckles as she brushes her hand across the vest, cleaning off the non-existent dust on it when she notices Echo, “Sorry Sir, I did not notice you there.”

“That’s hard to believe Carrie,” Echo remarks as Carrie lowers her head.

“Endless apologies. I was distracted by the race.”

“I suppose if one is to be distracted, it is by the race,” he replies as he walks up to him, “Speaking of races, I have two new hounds for you,” states Echo as Sterling and the transformed tabby feel an irresistible urge to step forward.

“I’m ready to do my best!” barks Sterling.

“Look, Carrie, was it? My name is Chad. Can you help me? It was honestly a slip of the tongue! I swear!” whines Chad as Carrie looks over the two.

“This one has a number already. Did seventy-four do something bad?” she asks as she pats Sterling on the head.

“Not this time,” Echo replies.

“Seventy-four looks like it might have a chance,” comments Carrie.

“I’ll do whatever you want if you can help me,” says Chad as Carrie looks him over.

“This one whines a lot, not sure how well they’ll do, but it just so happens I have a spot open,” Carrie chuckles as she wraps the number seven vest around Chad.

“N-number seven?” whines Chad.

“It’s your racing number,” remarks Sterling as she rolls her eyes.

“Seventy-four will have to win a thousand races in order to move on from their current position,” says Echo as Sterling stiffens.

“A thousand? Did the great Echo say a thousand?”

“I did Seventy-four,” Echo responds in Sterling’s mind who shivers in delight.

“I won’t let you down!” barks Sterling.

“What about seven?” asks Carrie.

“A thousand as well.”

“What?!” exclaims Chad.

“I’ll leave them to you.”

“Thank you. I will take good care of them,” Carrie says with a smirk as Echo turns and walks away, disappearing into the silver ground moments later.

While Sterling and Chad watch Echo walk away, Chad whines out, “Please Echo! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Carrie latches a leash to them, their silver bodies form a collar with a single D ring for the leash to hook onto. The collars form as if by instinct or a will other than their own. On them is a small silver tag with an engraving of seventy-four on sterling and seven on Chad.

“Unfortunate for you two that the last race of the day just happened. No matter, you’ll have plenty of time to practice and race soon,” Carrie smirks as she firmly tugs on the leash leading the two to the dog kennel, which is snugged and tucked away out of view of the crowds. There is a smaller racetrack with similar obstacles as on the main track, as well as an open area shelter which they are brought to where a few other workers under Carrie’s command are placing the other racers into their small cages which are designed just to be big enough for one but barely.

As Carrie tugs on the leash pulling Chad along as Sterling follows without issue, Chad with his head held low, tail between his legs, is the complete opposite of Sterling who walks proud, tail, head held up high. As they approach all the dogs in their cages take instant notice as Carrie guides them to their respective empty cages.

“Look! We have two new ones to join us,” says one silver greyhound with a vest on its side that says one on it.

“That was fast,” says another with a number one on their vest side.

“Look! Look! One has a real number. They think they are so mighty because they have a number,” remarks the one with a five on their vest.

“It matters not, they won’t last long,” remarks the vested hound with an eight on it.

The other dogs, sleek and shiny, rubbery don’t say much, but one, with a three on their vest mutters to a rubbery dog in the cage beside it, “They replaced seven quickly. The new seven doesn’t look like it will last.”

Chad is moved into the cage next to this hound, while Sterling is moved right between five and eight. Sterling looks over her small but clean cage, a food and water bowl both of which are half full.

“There we go. It’s been a long day, I might have a late lunch and get to training the new ones when I get back,” mutters Carrie.

Chad whines, “Please, you can’t do this to me! You can’t!”

Carrie looks down to Chad, “You better save your strength seven. The races are tough,” she says as she walks off.

Chad softly whines as Sterling sits proud surveying her competition, when Eight says to her, “So what did you do to get put into her Seventy-four?”

“I only doing what the great Echo wills. And my name is Sterling,” she growls to Eight who laughs in response.

“Lookie here. Seventy-four feels so entitled, that Seventy-four claims to have a name!” yells Eight.

“What a name? Ha! That’s a riot,” states Five as it looks to Sterling with a chuckle, “Don’t worry Seventy-four, you’ll learn soon enough that you are like the rest of us.”

Sterling lets out a soft humph as she looks down at Five.

Five turns away from Sterling as Chad whispers to Three, “What’s with the numbers?”

Three looks to the silver hound with a curious noise, “You were the one that Echo turned, aren’t you?”

Chad nods.

“We don’t have names here. We don’t have genders here. We are simply numbers. Outside of being rubbery instead of metallic, I look the same as you and you me. We are all nearly identical. Get used to being Seven, for that is who you are. And if you want to survive, it is better to accept it.”

“I… wait... No…” Chad looks between his legs to find it as smooth as the metallic silver floor of which he stands on. A soft whine escapes his lips as he looks to Three who shows him the same smooth genderless form.

“We are neither male nor female. We just are. I’m Three. The only way to graduate out of here is to win. I don’t think I need to tell you what happens if you lose, Seven.”

Chad shakes his head, “N-no.”

“Good. Glad you understand Seven.”

“Y-yeah… Thanks.”

Three smirks, “No problem. Though we compete on the track, off we are in this together. Even Eight and Five over there, the top two racers here. Best be careful around them on the track though.”

“W-why?” Chad asks.

“Because Seven…” Three leans in and whispers the answer to him which he yelps in response and lowers his head to the ground.

Three looks over to Eight and Five then back to Seven, “Best to remain alert. Oh, and don’t try to talk to the bipeds. They can’t understand us. All that barking at them won’t do you any good, and just annoy them.”

Chad whines, “Okay…”

Sterling listens to the conversation from her cage, while keeping a close eye on Eight and Five who proceed to give her the cold shoulder. Eventually Carrie returns, her hips sway side to side, as her thighs squeaky softly against themselves as she looks over her current stock.

“Training time. I will enjoy seeing how much potential you seventy-four and my newest seven have to offer,” she says with a smirk, unlocking the cages, and herding the dogs to the training area.

Sterling keeps her chest out and proud as she walks in the wanted direction as Five and Eight give Sterling a hard bump, “Hey watch it!” barks Sterling.

“Oh, sorry Seventy-four that I bumped into you,” remarks Five.

“You won’t be so proud soon enough,” states Eight as Carrie and a few attendants herd the dogs onto the practice racetrack.

“This is practice, you all know what that means. I won’t have absorption here,” states Carrie.

“Absorption!” exclaims Chad.

“Don’t worry, we’re here to help,” says Three as it takes a position next to him.

“Ready… set….” Carrie says as the other dogs take a racing stance. Chad and Sterling follow suit, though Chad is less confident of his position as a loud bell rings, causing him to jump in surprise before the other nine dogs sprint from the starting line. Sterling runs as fast as she can but she quickly finds herself out classed all but Chad and Six. She rushes along the silver metal ground, the smoothness no hindrance as she pushes herself as hard as she can, faster and faster, faster still. Three, the latex hound several lengths ahead of her. Her eyes narrowed as she pushes harder and harder, the desire to defeat a non-chrome hound fueling her to push harder but the race was over.

“You couldn’t even beat Three, Seventy-four, and you called yourself by a name? Ha!” taunts Eight as its chest is puffed out in delight as it came in first in this practice race.

Carrie looks over them, “Some potential, but not as much as I had hoped,” she sighs.

“I tried! It’s my first time. Just a bit out of practice,” Sterling defends as Carrie shakes her head.

“Poor Seventy-four. It thinks sit did well. Alright, time to try again, a lot more practice for you all.”

“That’s… right can’t understand me,” Sterling growls in annoyance as the race practice continues till late in the day, and by the time she and the others are brought back to their cages she feels tired in a way she did not think was possible. Five and Eight continue to tease her at her poor performance, rubbing it in till sleep overtakes her, as thoughts of how to get her revenge on these ‘lesser’ hounds of perfection.

The next day, in the early hours of the morning the sun only been up over the horizon of the silver city for about an hour, Sterling, Chad, and six of the other hounds are lined up for the first race of the day. The benches filled with only the most addicted of gamblers or true fans of the silver hounds.

All lined up in their small cages, the metal bars ready to be dropped in a moment’s notice as Sterling sees the far cry of the massive crowds she saw yesterday.

“Ready to get beaten Seventy-four?” says Eight from the cage beside hers.

“I’ve gotten better, I’m ready to win,” she replies as she lets out a huff of air.

“We’ll see about that Seventy-four,” Eight states as the bell rings out, the gates drop with a metallic thud and they are off. The announcer yells out with excitement as they rush down the race track. The smooth slick silver ground marked only by white metal “paint” on the ground that separates the lanes.

Suddenly sleek smooth geometric shapes push out of the ground like a submarine surfacing in the ocean, breaking through the smooth surface yet creating no ripples, as the racers dodge, bob and weave, leap over the obstructions, some with ease, others with notable difficulty. Chad trips over one of the objects in an attempt to leap over one of the objects but his feet catch it and he stumbles over, putting him a distant last. One man in the crowd yells out in frustration as he sees his longshot fall short.

“And number Seven has fallen! Not a good start for this new comer!” yells the announcer.

Sterling continues to push, moving through these obstacles with relative ease which brings her further up the pack, passing all but Five, Eight and Two, who keep a clear lead over her. As they near the final stretch suddenly a set of tall gates form before them, cutting down the available lanes to move through from eight to three. Sterling adjusts her lane on the fly as her competitors make their moves to pass through the small openings with ease.

“I’m not going to lose! I am Echo’s perfection!” she thinks as she approaches the middle gate. As she makes it through the gate, her silver reflection showing in the gate itself, Eight leaps in front of her, and in surprise Sterling slams into and in an instant finds Eight surround and envelope her completely into its form.

“Looks like Eight has gotten one of the new ones. Is this the end of Seventy-four?” he yells out as the announcer’s voice steadily becomes distant.

Sterling finds herself enveloped in a silver darkness. She squirms and wiggles out as Eight takes her completely. A rush of sensations floods her body and mind, warmth, cold, pleasure, numbness. She feels as if she’s an ingredient in a smoothie being mixed in with everything as her sense of body steadily fades.

Eight’s strength and ego flood into her mind. Sterling struggles and shivers, Eight’s thoughts are much like her thoughts, but slimed, perfected further. Such a strong mind, strong self of self, there is no need to identify as a him, or her. Eight is simply Eight, and Eight is wonderful, perfect. Just like Echo.

Sterling struggles, as she feels she’s moving a thick viscous liquid, silver surrounds her completely as Eight’s tight Embrace. Sterling shivers as Eight’s presence grows and grows, pushing her deeper into Eight. Sterling’s struggle steadily lessens as she feels the neutrality of Eight’s gender, the bliss and purity of being its number.

“Eight, Eight, Eight,” a voice whispers into Sterling’s mind, whittling away her defenses. Sterling shivers feeling Eight’s liquid form flow through her, into her, around her, drawing her in ever deeper into its form. Sterling feels Eight’s hold to the point that Ster... Eight doesn’t feel any different than Eight.

“Eight is Eight…. Eight is….” suddenly Eight… Sterling lands hard on the ground in Eight’s cage.

Sterling’s mind pulsates with Eight’s gender neutralizing thoughts, the object of self, the purity and perfection of being male, female, neither, on what is required, pounding into her mind as it steadily reforms. As Sterling steadily reforms, her liquid metal form solidifying, the number eight on her side reforms back to a seventy-four as liquid metal drips over her from Eight’s body, disappears into her form like raindrops into a lake.

“It would have been a shame Seventy-four to just take you in the first race. Where the fun in that would be? Showing you your place is so much more satisfying as my little toy for the day,” Eight muses.

Sterling shakes her head as she lets out a soft growl and turns her attention to Eight, but the moment her eyes lay on his form her anger, and growling fade away into joy. Her ears lower, her tail moves between her smooth crotched legs as she looks up at him. Sterling feels herself unable to look away, as her mind is overrun with new submissive thoughts.

“Look how sleek Eight is. Eight is perfect, almost as perfect as Echo. I wish I could be as perfect as Eight,” she thinks.

Eight looks down at Sterling with a domineering look, “Now Seventy-four, who is the best most perfect hound here.”

Sterling finds herself willfully responding, “You are Eight.”

“She’s back? What happened? I saw, why is she acting so strange?” asks Chad as Three nudges Chad through the cage.

“Don’t question, just watch.”

Chad nods and lowers his head as he does so.

“And who is the lowest of the low here?”

“I am, Eight,” Sterling replies.

Eight grins, “And who is I? Eight might know who this, I am, but the others may not,” Eight responds as Sterling lowers her head more.

“Sterling is the lowest of low,” Sterling replies.

Eight lets out a growl, “What was that? Sterling? Eight doesn’t know a Sterling, Eight doesn’t even see a Sterling. Eight sees Seventy-four before it. Now what are you?”

Sterling feels the words pound into her head. Sterling shivers and tenses, as Seventy-four can’t help but not to think against the wonderful Eight. Seventy-four without missing a beat respond, “Apologies. Seventy-four is just so low that I didn’t even use its designation right.”

“Of course, but then you did say I. Do you think you are special enough to use I, Seventy-four?”

Seventy-four keeps her head low, “No Eight, Seventy-four does not.”

“What Eight thought. Now tell everyone else what you are.”

Seventy-four nods and turns around looking at others in their cages, “Seventy-four is the lowest of the low. The biggest loser of the group,” Seventy-four states with shame.

“Better Seventy-four, now raise that rump, Eight is going to enjoy their victory tonight,” Eight commands.

Seventy-four feels a rush of Eight’s power over her, and a sense of joy and pleasure, with a gleeful smile she raises her tail, showing off her silver smooth crotch to him, “Yes Eight!”

Eight smirks proudly as Seventy-four lowers her head, hiking her rump, allowing Eight to see its reflection in Seventy-four’s behind. Eight checks over their look as coming out of its own smooth crotch is a sleek silver canine cock, with a hefty fat knot at the base, aching and ready to be shoved into any hole it can find.

“Good Seventy-four, just like that,” Eight states as it climbs over her. Eight positions itself accordingly rubbing the massive thick length against Sterling’s smooth crotch which remains smooth as waves of delightful pleasure rush through Seventy-four’s body and mind.

“It’s been a while since Eight put a number in their place,” Eight says as it pulls back and shoves its length hard into Seventy-four’s smooth sleek canine crotch. Eight’s member disappears into the smooth metallic voice with ease, like dipping a metal rod into liquid metal.

Seventy-four yelps pleasure as the length pops into her body. Her form squeezes around the length, swirling and pleasuring the entire length as it invaded her body. Eight feels the submissive Seventy-four wrap around its length, perfectly formed around it, squeezing, milking pleasuring as it pulls in and out with glee.

Eight’s slick metallic cock, reflects Seventy-four’s underside and Seventy-four’s underside reflects the cock back, showing an endless mirror image of the two, which is much like the pleasure the two chrome greyhounds are experiencing. Endless infinity pleasure as Eight pounds into Seventy-four’s smooth metallic crotch, which leaves no hole or opening before, after, or during each and every thrust.

Seventy-four’s nether region remains as sleek and unbroken as before, only the point of entry of the cock which shifts and changes to perfectly align with the width of the section of cock penetrating her. Seventy-four arches her back in pleasure as Eight recklessly pounds into her. Eight pants happily, pounding harder and harder, over and over, the length slides in and out of Seventy-four’s body, leaving her no time to relax, no time to recover as she closes her eyes, tongue hanging out as she is taken so completely by the stronger more prefect hound.

Seventy-four could swear it was like being taken by Echo itself, if it was even possible to get as close to Echo as this. Each thrust multiplied the other’s pleasure, but Eight felt a greater joy, showing this “Bitch” their place, for at the moment Eight rutted Seventy-four as if they were a bitch. Their silver metallic bodies grinded against one another. It felt as if Eight might overtake and consume Seventy-four at any moment, pulling her back into Eight’s form completely, perhaps permanently, but as the pleasure rose higher and higher with each delicious hump, Eight hit its climax.

A warm flow of silver seed floods Seventy-four’s as she squeezes down hard onto the length, the fat member lodged deep within her, as Eight keeps her pinned against it. Several delightful moments pass before Eight pulls away, revealing its smooth crotch reflecting back against Seventy-four’s same perfectly crafted smooth nethers. The cock gone, but felt deeply lodged within Seventy-four’s body, keeping her with the sense that she is filled to the brim but with no way to end the delightful sensation.

“Good, very good Seventy-four. I made the right decision not to absorb you… this time,” Eight chuckles, “You should be pleased Seventy-four that you got to enjoy a little piece of me.”

Seventy-four keeps her head low, “Yes, the great Eight. Seventy-four is humbled by your presence,” she replies.

Eight poses nice and proud like Seventy-four has done before and looks down at her with a grin, “I know. And good. Now service my body. Eight thinks a nice tongue bath by that silver tongue of yours will be utterly delightful,” Eight states as it goes to the other side of the cage and lays down, exposing itself to her.

“With pleasure oh might Eight,” Seventy-four replies as she gets to work.

The next day Seventy-four will awake in her cage, head pounding, but not in pain but of pleasure. Each pulse sends waves of delight through her body, but each pulse is weaker than the last. She stretches and shakes the cobwebs from her mind as the pleasure fades as she looks over to Eight. The pleasure and obedience to the sleek silver greyhound that looks nearly identical to her echoes in her mind.

“Such a great hand… hmm no… Seventy-four is… wait hmmm it does feel natural though. Being Seventy-four. Like how Se… I am meant to be. No, Echo gave me the name Sterling. I am sterling,” she thinks as the thought of her number runs across the back of her mind. An after thought that she will find herself drawn to time and time again. Like the decision to get a wonderful piece of art but the cost seems just a bit too high.

Eight stretches and looks to Sterling, “Morning Seventy-four. Did you enjoy your time with me? Wait of course you did. You spent it with me, Eight,” it says with a grin.

Sterling lifts her head nice and proud, “Perhaps, but it was only because you reminded me of the great Echo. And Sterling adores Echo’s perfection above everything else,” she states.

“Back to that name Eight sees. Guess you need to be taught a few more lessons. Eight saw what was in that mind. You felt what was in Eight’s. You know what Echo truly wants. Why resist? Or are you too stubborn to see why you are here?” Eight inquires.

Sterling looks to Eight with curiosity but says nothing.

“Morning, you numbered rascals. Time to get to the race!” yells Carrie as she pounds on top of the cages of any of the hounds still asleep, startling them awake.

Sterling turns to the front of the cage, posing proud, ready to tackle on her next race…

Several weeks later.

“And number Eight is the winner!” yells the announcer, “Followed by Five, Two, Six, Three, One, Seventy-four, and last and certainly least Seven!” With some shifting in placements it was almost always the same, day in day out, several races a day with no breaks. The only day the track is closed is a full day of training, and with only some “relaxing” which was nearly always spent training under the watchful eye of Carrie.

“Looks like I win again, Seventy-four. And what was that about you winning the match?” it asks with a defiant grin.

Sterling puffs out her chest, “Sterling is clearly getting better, while you aren’t improving at all,” she scoffs.

Eight chuckles, “Sure you are Seventy-four. The sooner you drop that name the better off you will be. No one is impressed with you,” it remarks as it walks off back to the kennel just as Carrie and the other workers force them all to do so.

“All of your performances were not up to par. No rest for any of you!” the latex gazelle yells as she and the workers funnel them past their cages and to the training area.

Chad meanwhile keeps his ears low and tail between his legs in concern as the sleek silver greyhound whines softly, “I’m going to get consumed like the last seven. I just know it. I’ve been last every race.”

Three, the sleek rubbery greyhound nose pumps Seven, “Don’t worry. I think I have a plan to help you move up on the list.”

Chad looks up at Three, “Really? How? Eight, Five, and a few others have already consumed several newer dogs. It’s pure chance I haven’t been yet,” he whines.

Three smirks, “Follow me. We’ll train away from others, so no one can see the special techniques that only I know to help improve your skills.”

“R-really?” Chad asks with a tail wag.

“Yes, now come,” Three motions as they head off to a secluded part of the training area. Sterling caught the whispered conversation and stealthily followed from a distance.

“Sterling wonders what they are up to. A technique to improve?” she thinks as she hides herself as Three looks around before bringing Chad close to it.

“What do I need to do? I don’t want to be taken into the ground like the previous Seven. I don’t!” he whines.

“Shhh, relax. Let me help you,” Three says as it gently rubs Chad along his flank, “First take your racing pose.”

“Y-yes,” he responds as he takes it.

Three shakes his head, “All wrong, all wrong. You need to be like this,” says Three as he makes fine tuning adjustments to Chad’s stance.

“Okay… thanks.”

“I’m not done yet. Now close your eyes and keep this stance.”

“Okay, now what?”

“Keep your focus on your stance. Don’t move a muscle, head low, feel yourself readying to sprint, just focus on this, block out all other outside influences,” explains Three as it gets in front of Chad.

Sterling watches curiously, as Chad replies, “Thank you for your help.”

Three smirks, “Oh no, thank you. I’ve been wanting to get an Echo hound for a while now.”

“Huh what?” asks Chad as Three stretches its rubbery mouth open like a snake, and as Chad cracks open his eyes it is too late and Three envelops half of Chad’s body into its rubbery mouth. Chad’s muffled screams of surprise are barely heard from within Three’s body as it bulged and squeaks around him. Three quickly moves to slurp and push Chad into its body which squeaks and bulges from the neck to the belly as Three takes in all of Chad like a wet noodle, leaving only the number seven vest on the ground.

Three licks its lips once there is nothing left of Chad. Three smirks defiantly, “Thank you Seven. You are my next step out of here,” it remarks as slowly silver seeps out of Three’s rubber skin like sweat. The shiny silvery rubber is steadily replaced by chrome-metallic silver, and within moments Three looks exactly like Chad did.

Three looks over itself, “Very nice. Three sees what feels so good about being like the great Echo now… oh wait, not Three,” says Three as it shakes off the old vest and goes over to slip on Seven’s vest instead, “Seven is Seven now,” it states as it looks around, checking to see if anyone saw it.

“Not against the rules if no one knows,” Seven mutters to itself as it heads back to the group leaving Three’s vest behind.

Sterling retreats as she wonders, “Why would Three take up Chad’s spot if Chad was so close to being consumed like the previous Seven?” Fortunately, the next day Sterling would find her answer in the next race.

“And they’re off!” yells the announcer as race starts. Obstacles and choke points form and melt from the track at seemingly endless randomized will of an unseen force, “Lookie here! Seven is moving up through the ranks. Passing many of its competitors! Seven is now neck and neck to our second favorite number Five! Will this late bloomer have a chance and take on our champion Eight?!” the announcer goes as Sterling finds herself now dead last in this current race.

“And the winner is Eight! Followed by Seven and closely by Five!” yells the announcer. When Sterling crosses the line, she feels a hint of shame of being last for the first time. She looks at the new Seven who stands proud and tall, as Five says to it.

“Nice job Seven. It’s been a while since Five has had any competition,” says Five.

“Yeah. You are really showing our perfection, unlike Seventy-four,” states Eight as they give her a harsh look.

“Well with Echo’s perfection on Seven’s side. It is nothing,” it replies.

Sterling lets out a huff as Carrie comes over, “Alright you lazy numbers, get back to the start, all of you except you Two, the new Three will take your place for this race,” commands Carrier as one of her attendants guides him away as this new silver greyhound looks over everyone meekly as it sports the number three vest on its side.

The new Three keeps its head low, “Hi.”

Seven walks over to the new Three, “Hello Three.”

“My name is John.”

“Not anymore, its Three. Best to get used to it, but don’t worry. Seven is here to help,” explains Seven as it starts to talk to John before the next race is to be kicked off.

“So that is how it works. It’s a literal dog eats dog world here,” thinks Sterling as she walks over to Two, which is another sleek silver greyhound like most of the others.

“Hello Two.”

Two looks at her with a hint of suspicion, “Hey, Seventy-four.”

“Ster… Seventy-four was thinking that perhaps that maybe we could train together?”

Two cocks an eye ridge, “Train? Us?”

Sterling lowers her head a little, “Yes. You are very talented Two. There is much Seventy-four could learn from you,” says Sterling as the words “Seventy-four” when describing herself sent a hint of delight through her body, as it almost-but-not-quite felt natural to say when referring to herself.

Two grinned, “Well I am wonderful. I’ll be overtaking Eight and Five soon. You’ll see.”

“Yes, Seventy-four knows. Why Seventy-four would like to learn from the true best around,” Sterling says with a smirk.

Two chuckles and takes a proud stance, “Sure, but perhaps we should do it off to the side. Two doesn’t let its special secrets to be known to all so easily. What do you say?”

“A wonderful idea,” Sterling replies just before they are herded into their cages for the start of the next race.

Afterwards though Sterling and Two spend some time training before heading off to a secluded area, “Yes, Two thinks over here will be best. Two doesn’t want anyone to see us training. Especially Eight or Five. As you’ve made not the best impression on them,” explains Two.

“Seventy-four knows, but they are a bit full of themselves.”

Two chuckles, “We are all close to Echoes perfection. We should be.”

Sterling grins, “True,” she replies as they reach the hidden spot.

Two looks around really quick to make sure no one is around, “With Seventy-four, Two will no longer be behind the others,” it thinks as it turns to face Sterling when she leaps and envelopes over Two.

“Huh? What?! You tri--,” Two’s words are cut off as Sterling melts and absorbs over Two.

“Like you weren’t going to do the same thing,” Sterling remarks as she brings Two into her body. The swirl of warmth and liquid metal fill her as she feels Two struggle against her. Two’s strength pulsates and through her, as it tries to overcome Sterling but Stertwo is too strong.

Sterling shakes her head, feeling the flow of thoughts and memories of Two flood her mind as Two attempts to be the one overtaking her. Sterling mentally struggles against Two, feeling its sense of self conflict with her own. Further and further Sterling draws in Two, their liquid metal mixing. The sensation like the cock of Eight still lodged within Sterling’s body grows to an all-consuming blissful force. The two forces steadily merging with one another, blending together, as each tries to be the top dog in the end.

The mix and flow of the two silver hounds eventually comes to an end, with the Two vest on its side. Memories male, female, either, flow in and out of its mind. It thought for a moment, female? Male? Neither fit its perfection. It was becoming a little clearer now just what was happening, what happened.

The sleek hound shook its body knocking the vest off of its body showing the Seventy-four on its side, “Much better,” says Seventy-four as it looks over its perfectly smooth metallic body. Seventy-four took a moment to sit and think. Sifting through the strengths, skills, memory of Two and all that it had absorbed before it became the top dog of it all.

“Hmm, yes. Seventy-four sees,” she… it… she thinks. It was an interesting experience. Its, her thoughts, Two thoughts, becoming one, but Seventy-four’s are the dominant controlling force. Seventy-four is Seventy-four and becoming more. It-she took slow deep breathes, focusing on them, sifting through them, discarding what is not needed, keeping what it wanted. She truly felt stronger, quicker, more powerful than before. She-it stood proud, checking over her delightful sleek perfected form, its tail wagging blissfully.

“Sterling is… Seventy-four,” she muses with itself as she stretches and looks around, seeing no one noticed what she did and gets back to training. There she feels the new sense of power, strength, the perfection that is what she is, an echo of Echo. Closer to the original perfection like it always wanted to be.

The next day race was exciting, thrilling for Seventy-four. She-it pushed through the lesser hounds, as she found herself only two dogs length behind Seven and Five who were fighting neck and neck for the second place spot.

Their sleek reflective bodies reflected over each other’s perfect forms. The crowds of the half full stadium cheer as they make their way around the ever-changing race rack. The flow of power through Seventy-four felt intoxicating. The power of so many in one perfect body. Seventy-four pushes harder and harder but finds that it is still behind the curve of the others.

“And once again Eight is the winner!” yells the announcer, “Followed by Five and Seven! But what’s this, Seventy-four has slowed down? Is this up and comer a false hope of something new?!” the announcer yells as the other dogs rush right by her, but at the last moment Seventy-four leaps in front of the new Three who slams into its body.

Seventy-four’s form flows Three’s body who yelps in surprise before it disappears into it’s form completely, “It looks like Seventy-four was a little hungry and needed a bit extra to get through the race!” the announcer yells as some people in the crowd cheer, a few jeer, while others wince as they see Seventy-four completely take in the new Three.

As Seventy-four continues down the track finishing the race, dead last, it feels the rush of Three’s mind and memories, gender, sexuality, likes, dislikes, all of which were already adjusted to fit an Echo-like mind set, further pounds into Seventy-four’s mind, filling out the subtle masculine void in its psyche balancing out in its mind, and as it crossed that finish line, though last, it felt better than before.

It looked over the half dozen Echo clones like itself, anadromous, perfect, much like itself. Male, female, they were too constricting. Not worthy of describing Seventy-four, not worthy describing Echo, the most perfect of them all. The minds of males, the minds of females, Seventy-four effeminate mind, though still rather effeminate had masculine traits, that help soften and blend things together.

“Seventy-four looks oh so proud of itself for consuming the biggest loser of the race. Wanted to lose that badly?” asks Eight with a hearty chuckle.

Seventy-four cocks its head to the side, “Seventy-four knows what it is doing. Seventy-four is moving on up, and it will be the winner soon. That smug look on your face Eight. Seventy-four will remove it soon,” it says as Carrie and her associates herded them back to the start of the track to run their next race.

Three months later

“And they are off. Looks like we have a tight race tonight folks. Eight has a solid lead, but we have a three-way battle between for second place with Five, Seven and Seventy-four! Followed by a distant Ten,” yells out the announcer as they make their way around the track.

Dodging and weaving through the ever-flowing changes of obstacles the three clone dogs, make nearly perfectly identical moves, as none able to get a single step of the other. Seventy-four sees itself in the mirror finish of the two other dogs it finds itself sandwiched between. Seven’s and Five’s vests were the only things preventing the endless mirror reflection between them, as their reflective flanks gave a fishbowl reflection of the crowd and inner race track.

“I’m going to move ahead; I’m going to get closer to my first win!” thinks Seventy-four as the gate obstacle suddenly appears near the finish line. Eight easily passes through before the number of open gets suddenly reduces to a quarter and the three must split off to find a respective opening.

Seventy-four sees its opening up ahead, it pushes through hard and as it passes through the gate it sees in the silver reflection Eight waiting there to jump ahead, and as it does Seventy-four takes the moment to instead of run into Eight but envelope it instead.

Eight looks shocked at the last moment turn of events, as it happens all within fractions of a second. Seventy-four doesn’t miss a beat as it holds Eight within its form, as they internally fight for control.

“And the winner is Seventy-four!” yells the announcer as it uses Eight’s strength to burst ahead of the other two and finish.

Five and Seven look at Seventy-four in total shock as it walks around prideful, “One down. Nine thousand, nine hundred, ninety-nine to go,” Seventy-four thinks as it holds Eight within its form, pounding and breaking it down till suddenly rains out of Seventy-four’s body as the same stands of control that Eight once exerted over Seventy-four are now reversed.

“Such a silly move Eight. You had the win, but Seventy-four guesses that it is the true winner, and you wanted to show the world that. Isn’t that, right?” Seventy-four asks.

Eight lowers its head and whines, “Yes the great Seventy-four.”

Carrie sighs, “I can’t have a controlled hound race, and the controller race. You should have held onto Eight till after the race. Dumb mutt,” states Carrie as she leashes the two and tugs them along, “That is all the racing you two will do today. Now I need to change up my schedules,” Carrie sighs as she pulls them into one respective cage.

“Might as well let you two get it out of your system. Have fun,” Carrie chuckles as she squeakily walks away.

Eight lowers its head before Seventy-four, tail between its legs as Seventy-four stands tall and proud.

“My, my, my, look how the tables have turned. Isn’t it wonderful?” Seventy-four asks.

“Yes great Seventy-four, it is wonderful,” Eight replies.

“Seventy-four thinks it should return the favor and something you gave it,” it says a silver throbbing cock slips out of Seventy-four’s smooth crotch.

“Of course, with great pleasure Seventy-four,” Eight replies as it turns around, hiking its rump to show off its smooth metallic crotch, that is so well polished that Seventy-four can see itself in it.

Seventy-four checks over itself for a moment in Eight’s rear before climbing over Eight, grinding its length against that sleek smooth gender-neutral crotch.

Eight whines in delight, panting, as its silver tongue hangs from its mouth as it whines like a bitch in heat, ready to take the massive cock within its body. Seventy-four grinds itself against the sleek smooth nether regions, holding Eight close to its body, “Tell Seventy-four how much you want this.”

“Eight wants it badly Seventy-four! Please take Eight! It wants to feel you fill its smooth crotch with your massive length!” Eight whines.

“Seventy-four is hard of hearing over how smug Eight was before. What was that? Say it a bit louder.”

“Eight needs Seventy-four to be in it!” it cries out.

“And what do you say to have Seventy-four in you?”

“Please! Please take Eight!”

“With pleasure,” Seventy-four responds and like before, Seventy-four drives its cock into Eight’s smooth slender crotch. The throbbing length disappears into it like dipping into liquid metal. A ripple of pleasure bursts through Eight and Seventy-four’s body as Eight’s liquid metal insides squeeze and massage the hard length of Seventy-four.

A swirl of bliss much like when they have consumed and taken over others, now centralized into one localized spot. Slowly Seventy-four pulls out of Eight, till not even the tip is in the puppeted hound. Eight’s smooth crotch unbroken, reflecting the silver member that leaks so close to its body. Eight whines out, “More please. Please Seventy-four, take Eight for all it is worth.”

Seventy-four grinds itself against Eight again, as it pulls its length back and lines up to the imaginary hole on Eight’s crotch, “With pleasure my bitch,” states Seventy-four as it plows its throbbing silver cock right back into Eight, forcing the submissive hound to take knot and all.

Eight howls in delight as is taken so hard by the superior Seventy-four. Their sleek metallic bodies grind against the other, as only Eight’s vest, and Seventy-four’s number gives any indication just who is who. Like two nearly perfect clones mounting each other.

Seventy-four pants in delight as it feels the power and control over Eight, the squeezing warmth of the liquid metal innards that pleasured every nanometer of Seventy-four’s perfect cock. In and out the member moved, leaving always the perfectly smooth crotch in its wake, which happily accepted it back into Eight’s body. Perfectly crafted holes that formed to perfectly fit around the length as is shoved hard into the submissive bitch.

Higher and higher their pleasures grew, higher and higher grew Seventy-four’s delight of having finally one upped the so called “perfect” Eight. All of Eight’s power was now right under Seventy-four as it took Eight for all its worth, pleasing thoughts mulled in its mind. Delightful tantalizing thoughts that made it whine in anticipation, of what is to come.

And come Seventy-four did, spewing thick loads of silver seed straight into Eight’s body. Eight whined and moaned, squeezing and milking Seventy-four’s cock with the most expert use of its liquid metal inner form. Happily, Eight took it all before Seventy-four pulled away revealing its smooth crotch and Eight’s as now the cock was lodged deep within Eight’s body.

“Thank you, great Seventy-four for this pleasure,” Eight moans as Seventy-four remained on top of Eight as it hold the submissive Eight close to it.

Seventy-four nuzzles and licks across Eight’s ear who moans out softly, closing its eyes, “The pleasure was all mine, and for that, you will be all mine.”

Eight eyes widen for that moment as it squirms underneath Seventy-four, “Wait but… Eight let you go when it could have taken you fully,” Eight pleads.

“Yes, but you didn’t. That is your mistake,” Seventy-four responds as pulls Eight back into its body. Eight squirms and moans in pleasure, “But you wanted to be in Seventy-four’s perfection. Didn’t you? That is why you let Seventy-four take you.”

Eight shivers and moans as it feels Seventy-four melting over and merging with its body, steadily taking it over as Eight nods submissively, “Yes.... that’s right Seventy-four. It wanted this all along. Take Eight. Let Eight be part of your perfection,” it pants.

“With pleasure,” Seventy-four responds as it envelopes Eight completely, merging the two into one. Seventy-for moans out in delight as it feels the sensation of countless others Eight has taken before. Made part of itself. Further nullifying sense of which side of the coin that Seventy-four belonged to. Its sexuality, gender, becoming as fluid as its own body.

When it was over, Seventy-four sat proud in its cage, waiting eagerly for the next race, for it knew, that is a winner, and winning is what Seventy-four was going to do.

Months Later…

“And the winner by a wide stretch is once again Seventy-four!” yells the announcer as Seventy-four happily crosses the finish line and takes its place amongst the winners. The crowds cheer happily as Five and Seven are mere moments away from crossing the finish line.

“Who is going to be second place? Five or Seven? They are neck and neck. Five in the lead no wait Seven, no Five,” yells the announcer the crowds still cheering on their second-place bets when suddenly Five leaps and wraps itself around Seven. The two squirm and merge as the crowd gasps at the sudden change of events.

“At the finish line the two are now fighting who will be truly second best!” yells the announcer as Five steps across the finish line right before the others lagging behind manage to do so. The crowd cheers as Seventy-four looks at five with a hint of concern as Five takes it place beside Seventy-five.

“It took a while for Seven to let down their guard,” chuckles Five as it looks to Seventy-four, “Now it’s really a race between the two of us,” it says with a smirk.

Seventy-four puffs out its chest, standing proud, “That’s what you think,” it responds as they will be herded back to the cages.

Carrie grumbles, “If you all keep consuming my best runners, the races won’t be interesting,” she states as she gets them back into their cages. New latex and silver metal greyhounds have taken the place of those that came before. Now only Five and Seventy-four are the only originals left from the time Sterling first arrived.

Five and Seventy-four look over the new stock of hounds, nine others in all at the moment. Some were proud and arrogant like them, others far more concerned, and worried about the upcoming races. They eyed each other in competition, trying to think of ways to overtake the other, given the chance. The next races were going to be interesting and over the next several months they were. Five for a while had the upper hand, clearly beating Seventy-four and the other hounds as Seventy-four hand to consume a handful of the more promising hounds on and off the tracks in order to catch up.

After that though, it became a back and forth as each would find ways to sneak and trick the other hounds into places of being alone, consuming and taking them, making them part of their perfection. Perfecting their seducing, their silver tongues, their methods of corruption and conversion, of puppeting in order to lure others into a false sense of security in order to get the upper hand to consume and convert.

Five and Seventy-four would trade victories for week spans or even simply days, the process slowing Seventy-four’s progress reaching the ten thousand victories needed. And through it all Carrie became further annoyed with them that the other racers were not given a chance to shine, as bets on all but Five and Seventy-four became all but non-existent.

Fan clubs formed over Five and Seventy-four as people cheered them on. Their perfect silver bodies, which was the talk of other silver anthropomorphic hounds and other residents of Echo’s silver city. Such competition was almost as heated as the race themselves between the two.

“And who will win this one folks? Five and Seventy-four are neck and neck as they come around the last bend. They dodged the recent pit, and leaped over the mound, through the sudden gates and now it’s a clean stretch end.”

The two-race side by side, neither looking at the other, while yet keeping the other in mind, ready to counter if the other tried to make a move to take the other, “It looks like it's going to be a photo finish!” yells the announcer as a bright flash reflects off their bodies as they cross the finish line.

The crowds cheer Five and Seventy-four look at each other, panting from the race as moments pass as the image is examined. The two look up towards the announcer’s booth in anticipation, their tails wagging in perfect unison. “And the winner is… Seventy-four! With their thousandth victory to date!” Seventy-four puffs its chest proudly as Five lowers its ears slightly as it remarks.

“You won this time, but next time, it will be mine,” huffs Five.

“You wish,” Seventy-four replies as Carrie suddenly leashes them.

“What’s the meaning of this? There are more races today that Seventy-four is clearly on.”

“Yeah! Five has to win the next race!” yelps Five.

“Hush you two. You’ve both been winning non-stop for far too long. I think you both need to miss out on the next couple of weeks to let the others move up in skill,” says Carrie as the rubber gazelle tugs at their leashes toward the cages.

“This is unfair!” growls Five as it is shoved into its cage.

“That’s enough Five. I don’t want to hear any yelps or what have you,” says Carrie as she tugs and pulls Seventy-four toward its cage.

“Get in!” commands Carrie as Seventy-four looks up at Carrie and growls, “No!”

“Get in!” yells Carrie.

“No!” yells Seventy-four as it leaps up at Carrie. Carrie bleats in surprise, expecting a sudden bite when she feels slick warm silver envelope her.

“Huh? What? No! Bad dog! Stop this now!” yells Carrie as the silver slides and forms across her body, her sleek rubber replaced by smooth silver. The warming pleasure of Seventy-four over her body causes her to let out a moan.

Her cervine features begin to soften, hooves shift into anthropomorphic silver hound feet, her supple breasts smooth away with every rush of silver across her body. Her crotch smooths out as the yellow and white are replaced by smooth reflective silver.

Her horns melt away as her canine features form around her former cervine head. Along her sleek effeminate sides, the blue number of Seventy-four becomes visible. With a soft moan Seventy-four comes into being as its anthropomorphic self. It blinks and stretches as it looks over its perfect self.

“Yes, Seventy-four likes,” it says as it crouches down before its open cage. It holds its hand out as silver drops from its fingertips and within a minute a puddle of silver forms on the floor and climbing out of it is Carrie, now a numberless silver feral greyhound.

Carrie looks around and barks out, “Huh? What happened? Seventy-four! You can’t do this to me!” she yells as Seventy-four pats Carrie on the head as it hears only barking.

Seventy-four smirks, “Thank you for the form. Though Seventy-four is supposed to win another Nine thousand races, but a little rule breaking isn’t so bad,” it chuckles as it closes the gate in front of Carrie. Carrie whines as Five chuckles.

“It does serve you right, trying to slow us down,” remarks Five to her.

“You can talk?!” exclaims Carrie in surprise as Seventy-four comes back holding a vest with the number Twelve on it.

“I think this will work for you Twelve,” says Seventy-four as it slips on the new vest around Carrie.

“Twelve? That one isn’t used often. Fitting, Five thinks. Don’t you think Twelve.”

“Twelve?” Carrie looks over herself, “My name isn’t Twelve.”

“It is now,” chuckles Five.

Seventy-five smiles as it looks over Carrie, “Perfect. Well not Echo perfect but close enough,” it says.

“Very good Sterling. You managed to surpass task almost as fast as me. Almost,” chuckles Echo as Seventy-four stands straight and bows before Echo, moving its tail between its leg.

“Thank you, great Echo. It is Seventy-four’s great honor to have passed your test.”

Echo reaches out and gently runs its hand across Seventy-four’s chin, “Yes, I know Seventy-four. And it is good to see you are now thinking the way you should be. Like me,” he chuckles.

Seventy-four smirks, “Thank you Great Echo.”

“Now that we’ve cleaned out your impurities. You can be trained to better serve me as part of my inner circle.”

Seventy-four’s tail starts to wag quickly, “Thank you for this great honor, Echo. I won’t let you down!” it exclaims happily, the perfectly smooth gender-neutral greyhound states with an ambiguous voice that is hard to tell if its male or female.

“Yes, I know. Now come, we have much to discuss, and please use I. Referring to yourself as a number was merely to get you to associate your true name with yourself,” says Echo.

“Yes of course Echo. I will remember that,” says Seventy-four as Echo touches its hand before disappearing into the silver ground, leaving the race track behind, and onto the next step of Seventy-four’s journey on being exactly what Echo wants Seventy-four to be. A as perfect as possible duplicate of Echo itself, to serve Echo’s will as Echo sees fit.