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The music crashed to a halt before a word could escape my lips, which was deeply frustrating because I actually knew the answer to that one. “Sorry, Victoria,” Charlie announced, his too handsome visage brightened with a lecherous grin. “Time’s up, but you have answered five questions correctly.”
The live studio audience clapped, their applause quickly giving way to murmured speculation, echoed by my own anxious thoughts. To be honest, I had not really expected to be selected from that crowd that now watched me, one of a lucky few given a chance to play. Not in my wildest dreams – okay, maybe there – had I thought I would reach the final round.
“Well, Victoria,” Charlie said, “you can walk away a winner now with this beautiful golden necklace” – he held it up to the audience, who oohed and ahhed appreciatively, though not of course with any sincerity – “or you can risk all and play Prize Or Penalty…”
This time there was silence. A dropped pin would have been deafening. Of course I would play. Everyone does – everyone who gets this far. And yet… it’s terrifying when that moment is upon you.
But there’s no reward without risk.
“Well, Victoria? What will it be? Play? Or pass?”
I took a deep breath. “I’ll play, Charlie.”
The audience cheered, and I could feel my cheeks blushing at what would – and what might – happen next. In front of Charlie and a room full of strangers, and my girlfriend Ellie (would our relationship survive this?), and then there were the TV cameras that would transmit this to my friends and family and potentially the whole wide world.
Forget my cheeks. I was blushing all over as the reality of this moment hit home. This was no longer just an innocent quiz show. This was now a life-altering gamble, one that started with –
“You know the rules, Victoria,” Charlie said, his demonic grin wider than ever. “You scored five in the last round, and that entitles you to five items of clothing. I don’t know, but I think you’re -“
The audience completed it for him: “- overdressed!” General laughter gave way to a chant of, “Strip! Strip! Strip!”
Reluctantly I eased myself out of shoes and tights, leaving myself with bra and knickers, vest, shirt and skirt. Even though nothing intimate was revealed – yet – removing any clothes felt nonetheless amoral. Baring my legs and feet became an act of erotic exposure.
The stage lighting changed to focus on the gold-coloured boxes behind me, numbered one to ten. “Ten boxes, Victoria,” Charlie explained. “Five prizes, and five penalties. Remember, at any time, you can quit and go home with this beautiful necklace.” Again he held it up enticingly.
I shook my head, tempted though I was. I had five items of clothing. The chances of me leaving empty handed were roughly one in two hundred and fifty – and some of the penalties weren’t so bad. I would trust to luck.
It wasn’t just women who got to play Prize Or Penalty. I’d seen men get “Base Balls” – huge testicles – and “Ever Erect” (ouch!) and even “Come Like A Racehorse,” which was reportedly a lot less desirable than it sounds. Just half an hour before I got my chance to play, a man left with a cool two million and a “Chastity Cage” (not a physical cock cage, of course, but a neural adjustment having the same effect); his dismay at that penalty had had the whole audience sniggering.
There were many penalties too that I knew I really wouldn’t like. “Fit Clit” would make it so my clit could only be excited by running, “Firehose” would turn my orgasms into epic squirting events, and “Fabulous Futa” would transform my clit into a functional cock – yikes!
“To open a box,” Charlie continued, though of course everyone already knew this, “you must surrender an item of clothing.” He winked lecherously at the camera. “So, are you ready, Victoria?”
I nodded nervously. “Yes, Charlie,” I replied, my voice catching.
“Excellent! Then let’s play Prize Or Penalty!”
The illegal bahis audience cheered again, but fell silent in anticipation as a drum rolled. “What item of clothing will you remove first, Victoria?”
The choice was easy. “My shirt,” I said, unbuttoning the blue cotton shirt and handing it to Charlie. The outline of my bra was visible through my vest, and now my arms were bare too. I was far from naked, but uncomfortably aware of how little covering I had.
“An independent adjudicator is responsible for selecting the five penalties and arranging them randomly, but let’s hope you find a prize. In just a few minutes, Victoria, you could be going home a multi-millionaire! Choose your first box…”
“My lucky number, Charlie. Seven.”
“A popular first choice.” He carried the box over to me and opened it to reveal the envelope and sealed test tube. “It’s still not too late to back out and go home, Victoria.”
I shook my head. Unstoppering the test tube, I offered up a quick, silent prayer, and drank the green liquid. It was salty-sweet. If I was lucky, that’s all it was. “Open the envelope, Victoria. Let’s see if you’ve won… or lost.”
There was a card in the envelope. I’d hoped to see a number with lots of zeros. My heart sank. There were two words: “Itchy Nipples.” The audience laughed as I held it up to the camera. Already I could feel a subtle tingling sensation, although it could have been my mind playing tricks on me at that point.
“Never mind, Victoria. Better luck next time. You do want to continue, don’t you?”
“Yes, Charlie,” I said, and again the drum rolled. I hesitated over the choice, because all four options felt overtly sexual, as if I were crossing a line.
The audience chanted, “Strip! Strip! Strip!” and I yielded to a decision, tugging my vest off over my head and passing it to Charlie. Sighs of satisfaction rippled through the watching crowd at the sight of my white lace bra.
“Number Ten,” I said.
Charlie nodded. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” he said cheerfully, bringing it over. This time the liquid was red and bitter. Colour and taste meant nothing, of course. “I bet this one’s a prize. Open the envelope, Victoria.”
I rather absent-mindedly scratched an itch, only belatedly aware that I was scratching my nipple through the delicate lace of my bra. I jerked my hand away in a panic, much to the amusement of all, and blushed furiously as laughter echoed around me.
Hurriedly I opened this second envelope, praying that this time I would see zeros. But alas! “Luscious Lips.” A little in shock at my bad luck, I held the card up for the murmuring audience and the camera.
I touched my fingers to my lips, wondering what exactly would happen. So far nothing, but the tingling sensitivity of my nipples was now undeniable, so much so indeed that my bra was becoming acutely painful.
This time I didn’t hesitate. The bra came straight off, and I sighed with relief, despite the embarrassment of revealing nipples that were not only swollen as if with arousal, but also significantly larger than ever before. It took all my self-control not to take those engorged tips between my fingers.
“Number Three,” I said.
There was something different about my lips, though I wasn’t sure what exactly. I bit my lower lip in gentle exploration as I waited for Charlie to bring the box over. “Third time lucky, let’s hope,” he said.
I didn’t bother with prayer. It wasn’t working. The blue liquid was very sweet. It was another penalty, but one that made me laugh. “Buxom Beauty,” the card read, and there was cheering and laughter from the audience. Not that I particularly wanted large breasts, but this penalty was always popular with viewers.
Two chances left. Two chances to win big and make up for this run of ill luck. I stood up and tugged my skirt down, so that the only claim to modesty was my lace knickers. I kept my thighs pressed tight illegal bahis siteleri together as I sat again, to hide just how wet they were – I hadn’t realised until then just how aroused I was.
“Number One, please, Charlie,” I said, handing him my skirt. My lips felt swollen and sensitive, and I wondered if they formed a natural pout now. There was no mirror to let me see myself, but I had seen someone get this penalty before, and had thought the effect quite comical.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had someone get four penalties in a row,” Charlie said, opening the box for me. “You may be about to set a record.”
A brown liquid, almost like honey. With a sense of resignation, I pulled the card from the envelope. Still no zeros. And it was a card I’d never seen anyone get before. “Size Queen.”
The audience seemed as surprised as I. “Wow,” Charlie said. “No one’s ever got that before. That’s two firsts tonight. Congratulations, Victoria!” I scowled at him, but he only grinned wider. He was positively devilish. Size Queen. What the hell did that even mean?
My breasts were noticeably bigger already. I’d gone from a B to maybe a C. My nipples jutted out prominently and I wondered what it would be like to wrap my new, sensitive lips about them.
Charlie interrupted my introspective musing. “One chance left, Victoria. One item of clothing…”
I was definitely pouting, without any intention to. I thought about denying him this final victory, of taking the necklace and leaving with the last shred of my dignity intact, but in the six boxes left there were five prizes. I would kick myself forever if I didn’t try again.
Keeping my legs together as much as possible, I eased out of my knickers. There was no hiding how wet they were, and Charlie lifted them to his nose, breathing in dramatically. “Heavenly,” he said, and the audience laughed in delight. So many times, as a viewer, I myself had done the same!
My hips twitched as a sudden yearning to be filled awoke within. Not necessarily by a hard cock, since that wasn’t really my thing, but if Ellie had bent me over and taken me there and then with her biggest strap-on… that would have suited me very well.
Momentarily distracted by this fantasy, my hands drifted to my growing breasts, easily a D now, my fingers pinching and rubbing at my itchy nipples.
“Have you chosen a box, yet?” Charlie asked, bringing me back to my senses with a jolt.
I snatched my hands away from my breasts and snapped my inadvertently parted thighs firmly shut again. “Five,” I said quickly, glaring for a moment at a camera that was aimed squarely at my crotch.
Only an hour before, I’d been an ordinary girl sitting with her girlfriend watching an erotic TV quiz live and dreaming of an improbable chance to be rich. This was my last chance now to be rich, but either way I was paying for it. I was stark naked in front of a studio audience and millions of unseen viewers. My lips, breasts and nipples were unnaturally swollen, and I’d never in my life felt such an urgent need to be fucked. Possibly even Charlie could have had me right then and there if he’d wanted.
A clear liquid, slightly sour. “Let’s see if your luck has finally turned, Victoria. But before you open that envelope, let’s check the others.” One by one he opened the other five boxes, taking the cards from the envelopes, showing zeros and more zeros and –
In short, my luck that night was the worst. Five penalties. No prizes. My heart sank as I opened my envelope to show the cheering audience my final fate: “Butt Babe.”
Just reading the words made my sphincter clench – or maybe it was the transmutative liquid already working on me. “I’m so sorry, Victoria,” Charlie said, looking anything but. “No one goes home empty-handed, however. You get this jewelled Prize Or Penalty buttplug.”
I accepted it as gracefully as I could, unable to keep a scowl from my face. The plug was a big one canlı bahis siteleri too, and although I’d never before given serious thought to inserting anything in my ass, just holding that plug in my hand sent an unexpected shiver of excitement through my nether region.
I’d won nothing. I wasn’t rich, but I was almost too horny to care. Backstage, I was taken to a dressing room where I finally got a look at the new me, my plump, pouting lips, my huge, perky breasts with swollen nipples that I was finally free to pinch and squeeze to my heart’s content…
That of course did nothing to ease the aching emptiness within. I tried using the buttplug as a dildo, but it wasn’t effective – and, besides, I had another hole in need of filling. My sphincter was also demanding attention, with subtly exquisite pulses of pleasure. Not at all sure that something so cold, hard and alien should – or even could – fit within that tight, rear passage, nevertheless with plenty of saliva and pure determination, I finally thrust it home, crying out as that ring of muscle was stretched wonderfully by the egg before the metal stem slotted abruptly into place.
It felt so good in me – so right. I sat there in that dressing room rubbing my clit frantically with one hand while the other lifted my breasts in turns so that I could suck on my own engorged nipples. On the verge of climax, I snatched a hairbrush from the table and pushed the handle as deep as possible – and though I screamed with pleasure as my mutated body fulfilled its purpose, I craved something far more substantial than that hairbrush.
I was still recovering from that orgasmic height when a young women slipped into the room to give me my shoes and tights, and a long black Prize or Penalty T-shirt that only just stretched over my breasts, and only just concealed my all too obvious lack of underwear. (The crotch of my tights was soaked through immediately.)
At the sight of myself in the mirror, I had to laugh. I looked like a bimbo who had just had sex. I certainly felt like a complete slut, walking out of that dressing room knickerless and with a buttplug moving restlessly in my ass. My nipples made sharp points in my shirt, like compass needles leading the way, and still they itched like crazy.
Ellie was outside, with a taxi. I waited fearfully for the verdict. Would she still love this slut-bimbo version of me?
I needn’t have worried. Her hands went straight for my breasts, her fingers to my nipples, her lips to my lips, and that was all it took to push me over the edge again. I climaxed standing up and clinging to her desperately for support. She hadn’t even needed to touch my clit.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered as I caught my breath. Sorry for not winning anything. Sorry for being so completely transformed.
“Don’t be,” she whispered back. “If anything, I’m the one who should say sorry. Sure, money would be nice, but I – along with everyone else here tonight – was hoping you’d find all five penalties. This was the best show ever.”
Her hands were still exploring the new me, and at last reached that most neglected region. “Oh god,” I moaned. “I need your fingers in me right now.”
Ellie chuckled. “Get in the taxi, you gorgeous, sexy slut of a girlfriend, and let’s see just how much your size-queen cunt can take.”
She had never spoken this way to me before – indeed, it would probably have ended our relationship if she had – but then I had never needed so much to be treated like a sex object before. I practically dived into the taxi, and Ellie after me. Uncaring about the driver, who no doubt was watching us in his mirror, I spread my legs wide to admit one, two, three, four, more, until Ellie’s whole hand up to her wrist was buried in me, fucking me, fantastically.
“Yes!” I pleaded. “Like that! Make me come!” And long before we got home I was crying out in ecstasy.
We lay back together laughing and kissing. “Do you really like me this way?” I asked. “You don’t mind having a girlfriend who looks like a bimbo and acts like a slut?”
“Mind it? I love it!” Ellie grinned so fiercely she reminded me almost of Charlie. “In fact, I’m going to buy you a whole new wardrobe. I hope you like pink…”
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