Prize or Penalty Ch. 05: Yes, Sir

I needed the money. Simple as that. I'd been married for a year and my husband had spent half that time in hospital. He had died there. And the hospital bills had left me with a mountain of debt. I needed the money and I was only ever really good at one thing: quizzes.

Growing up I loved quizzes of all kinds. I did them in books, I watched them on TV, I joined quiz teams at school and later college. I was good at them. My mind collects random facts every day. It was always an easy and harmless way to impress people. My husband John had enjoyed quizzes too, though he, like my parents, would never watch Prize or Penalty, the high stakes TV quiz show that had contestants strip on camera and regularly left them transformed in some grotesque and obscene fashion.

It became my guiltiest of pleasures while John was in hospital. I watched it initially for the quiz, but I couldn't not watch the cruel final round, as perversely exciting as it was horrifying. The first one I watched, a young woman called Erica transformed before my eyes into a living doll - a walking, talking sex robot. I assumed it was all just special effects, but then I started reading all about the show's controversies in more detail, and watched interviews with past contestants like Victoria and Ellie.

How it all worked was shrouded in secrecy. Some people said magic, others said nanites. However it worked, though, the effects were real - and permanent. Some of it was relatively benign. Some women went away with huge breasts and pouting lips. Some men went away with monstrous cocks and huge, hairy balls. Some was less benign, leaving women with cocks and men without. The amazing thing is that it was allowed on TV at all. Really it belonged only in some dark corner of the internet.

I watched it, not imagining that I would ever be part of it. I was a good girl. A loyal and loving wife. I would never bare all for money, and I certainly would never risk being mutated in some sexually objectifying way.

A guilty pleasure, that's all it was - until my husband died and the hospital bill came and suddenly I was all alone and desperate. And then Prize or Penalty was in my area, calling for contestants, and the promise of all those zeros was very seductive indeed.

I was good at quizzes. Maybe, just maybe, I could win big, and without humiliating myself in front of the whole world...

*

I told no one, of course. Probably I wouldn't get selected anyway and no one would ever need to know I had not only been in the audience but also signed up as a potential contestant. But I was there, and I was selected, and I nearly had a panic attack, but the quiz show format calmed me down. I focused on the questions, answered as fast as I could, and refused to think about what it was all leading to. I steadfastly refused to look at the open crotch of Charlie's leather trousers and the large semi-erect cock that bounced with every step he took.

The only cock I had ever seen in real life was my husband's, and that had been nothing compared to the one that increasingly pointed at me as the other contestants were eliminated. And then was pointed only at me in the penultimate, quickfire round. Perhaps it was the tension of the moment, or the energy in the music, but his cock hardened as he spat question after question at me and I dredged up or guessed answers.

Until the music crashed to a halt. "Wow," he said as I gasped for breath. "Wow, Amber. For the first time ever, a perfect score. Ten out of ten!"

I gave a loud sigh of relief as the audience clapped. I had done it. I had won. And then my euphoria gave way to a cold dread. I had never really expected to be selected, let alone win through to the famous final round. But I had, and now everyone I knew would get to watch as I removed my clothes for money. Of course, with ten questions right, I could stop before removing all my clothes, and I would still be sure to win something. If I was really lucky, I would find all five prizes without any humiliating penalties.

"Well, Amber," 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 on cue - "or you can risk all and play Prize or Penalty..."

I wondered if anyone had ever chosen the golden necklace. The idea of getting to this point and then chickening out was absurd. Then again, a man with actual horns and a lecherous grin, and with a wetly gleaming, stallion member atop huge, clean-shaven balls, was about to ask me to remove my clothes in front of the world - and, more importantly, in front of my family and my dead husband's family. I would be betraying them all, in a way. John, were he alive, would despise me for doing this.

And then there were the penalties. What if I got turned into a mechanical doll or a horny succubus or a cum-loving pony-girl? Was I really willing to risk my humanity just for the chance of a few millions? I just had to look at Charlie's leather-clad breasts to see the risk was real.

"Well, Amber? What will it be? Play? Or pass?"

"Play," I decided. But I wouldn't play to the end. I just needed one prize. Or two, really. To cover my debts and to set myself up comfortably.

"Excellent," Charlie said. "Also, because you scored a perfect round, if you find all five prizes, we will double your winnings to ten million!" A gong sounded dramatically and the big screen flashed the huge prize in huge, yellow numerals. A one with seven zeros.

I stared in shock. It was one thing giving up one or two millions to be safe, something else to give up the chance of winning ten. That really would set me up for life. That really would be worth the risk of multiple penalties. "Fuck," I whispered, and a camera must have caught it because laughter rippled through the audience.

"You know the rules, Amber," Charlie said, once the laughter died away. "You scored ten in the last round, and that entitles you to ten items of clothing. I don't know, but I think you're -"

The audience completed it for him: "- overdressed!" Laughter gave way to a chant of, "Strip! Strip! Strip!"

I laughed too, because I wasn't. I had dressed tastefully and carefully and had the requisite ten items of clothing. Feeling a little smug, to be honest, I waited as the lights focussed on the gold-coloured boxes behind me, numbered one to ten, and Charlie explained, "Ten boxes, Amber. Five prizes, and five penalties. Remember, at any time, you can quit and go home with this beautiful necklace." He held it up enticingly, and I just laughed.

"To open a box," he continued, "you must surrender an item of clothing." He winked conspiratorially at the camera. "Are you ready, Amber?"

"I am, Charlie," I said.

"Excellent! Then let's play Prize or Penalty!" The audience cheered and a drum rolled. "What item of clothing will you remove first, Amber?"

I wasn't merely removing my clothes. I was giving them away. The clothing surrendered for the boxes would never be returned. As I handed Charlie the gossamer-thin blue scarf I had chosen for the evening, I kicked myself mentally for choosing the scarf my husband bought me on our first anniversary. I hated giving it away and again I felt like I was betraying him.

Also, Charlie's erect cock was abruptly close enough to touch, and the temptation to actually do so surprised me. Not only was it the only cock other than my husband's that I had ever seen, I hadn't actually had sex in over a year. Having Charlie stand so close that I could even smell his arousal made me momentarily dizzy.

Charlie pushed his hips forward as if to offer his throbbing cock to me. "An independent adjudicator is responsible for selecting the five penalties and arranging them randomly," he said, "but let's hope you find a prize. In just a few minutes, Amber, you could be going home a multi-millionaire! Choose your first box..."

"Number Eight," I said, tearing my gaze away from his mesmerising member.

"Out late, don't wait, Number Eight," Charlie said and carried the box over to me, opening it to reveal the envelope and sealed test tube. "It's still not too late to back out and go home, Amber."

Ignoring him, I opened the test tube and drank down the clear green liquid before I could question my sanity. It smelled of lime citrus and tasted of bitter salt. I made a face as my mind and body rebelled. I knew the smell and taste were irrelevant to the effects of the liquid, and wondered why they made it so awful.

"Open the envelope," Charlie said. "Let's see, Amber, if you've won... or lost."

It wasn't a prize. "Pink Perspective," I read out, frowning uncertainly, and held the card up for the camera.

"Wait a few minutes," Charlie said, "and you'll see for yourself what that means." I didn't get the sense from him that it was anything particularly bad, although there was a glitter of amusement in his eyes. "Shall we continue?" he prompted.

I tugged off my shoes, an old pair but in good shape, black leather with three-inch heels. Charlie took them from me and held them to his face, breathing in deeply like a shoe fetishist. Again his cock was thrusting into my personal space, twitching with excitement and trailing a glistening strand of precum. It didn't matter that I was still practically fully dressed. I felt like a fetish object perched on a chair for Charlie's personal use. My parents would see this. My husband's parents would see this. I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Number Two," I said in an attempt to move him away from me.

Box Number Two held a clear, sugary liquid - and a prize. "Yes!" I screamed, profoundly relieved. I could quit if I wanted, my debts covered and only one penalty inflicted. I glanced up at the big screen to see me looking back at myself - with eyes that were no longer blue.

I stared, astonished, at the bright, hot-pink eyes that stared back at me. Nothing else had changed about my face, but the eyes were so startling they dominated all. It was like I was wearing the craziest pair of contacts.

"Hardly a penalty at all," Charlie said. "Must be your lucky day, Amber."

He had a point. Ten out of ten, a mild penalty and a prize. With ten million on the table. It would be stupid to stop. I shrugged my suit jacket off. The grey silk was a light material, but still excessively warm under the studio lights and it was a relief to finally be free of it. "Number Three," I said, handing it to Charlie.

"My favourite number," he said. He brought the box over and held it with one hand while stroking his cock gently with the other. Given that it was pointed straight at me, I hoped it didn't go off. I couldn't remember if he had ever actually orgasmed during previous shows, but that didn't mean he wouldn't this time.

This time the liquid in the test tube looked and tasted like sparkling lemonade. "Nice," I said, surprised. And then I opened the envelope and showed the camera the card: "Commando Girl." I wasn't at all sure what that meant, but it wasn't a prize. My spirits fell again.

The game was an emotional roller coaster. My thoughts were all over the place. Out of three boxes I had two penalties, one giving me stunning pink eyes, the other -

I shuffled awkwardly in my seat, having developed an itch in a place I didn't dare scratch while on camera. I removed my socks as an excuse to rub my thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the itching, but without much effect. "Number Seven, please, Charlie."

I half expected him to sniff my socks before taking them away. Instead he rolled one along the length of his cock like a condom and tossed the other onto the pile with my scarf, shoes and jacket. Somehow, seeing my sock jutting out from his crotch was more obscene than seeing his actual cock. It felt like he was actually penetrating some part of me while the audience murmured with evil laughter.

He handed me Box Number Seven and laughed as I scowled at him. "Better luck this time," he said.

And he was right too. Another prize. Suddenly my fate no longer seemed so awful. Suddenly I no longer cared about Charlie fucking my sock. It was just a sock. It wasn't me. And it looked stupid anyway.

No, what I cared about was the itching between my thighs that was tormenting me horribly. I stood and awkwardly tugged down my tights, aware that for the very first time I was actually baring some skin with this prolonged striptease, but caring only about easing the awful itch somehow. The camera, of course, zoomed in close as I pulled my tights free of my legs and practically threw them at Charlie. It did help with itching as well, but not completely.

"Number Ten," I said for my fifth box as I resumed my seat. Two prizes and two penalties so far. The Law of Probability, or something.

"I have a good feeling about this one," Charlie said, bringing the box over. He had discarded the sock and now his proud cock was visible again. When the liquid in the test tube was revealed to be a white, creamy substance, the whole audience laughed. He watched avidly as I swallowed what looked for the world to be cum, but actually tasted of apple.

Another penalty. Clit Clock. I really didn't like the sound of that. Charlie grinned and the audience murmured excitedly. Anything involving the clit directly was sure to be humiliating in the extreme. "Fuck," I whispered, trying to decipher some hint of meaning in Charlie's expression.

"I'll explain everything," he said, "in a minute. Do you still want to continue? Remember, you have to find all five prizes if you want the full ten million..."

I glowered sullenly at him. He knew, and I knew, that no way was I giving up now. No way was I going home with three penalties and only two prizes. Taking great care not to reveal my intimate self, I tugged my white lace knickers down while leaving my skirt firmly in place. My relief at finally ending the cruel itch turned to acute embarrassment as the blonde curls of my pubic hair tumbled about my feet and I understood that not only was I exposed beneath my skirt but also completely hairless.

This was not lost on the audience who descended into loud hilarity while I sat within the circle of cameras with my cheeks burning. I may not have been naked in front of the world, but it felt worse somehow.

f/lick

I jumped and screamed, whirling round to look behind me, to look under me. But no one. And yet, someone, or something, had just touched my clit. It had been no more than a gentle nudge, a slight brush, but for anyone to touch me there without warning, without consent, was absolutely not acceptable.

The laughter from the audience, and from Charlie, was even louder, and slowly it dawned on me that it wasn't someone or something, it was the penalty. Clit Clock, or whatever.

Charlie held his hands out for silence from the audience, and gradually they calmed down.

f/lick

I flinched, shocked again, but this time I knew better than to search for some imaginary abuser. Instead I glared hatefully at Charlie, wishing a hundred painful deaths on him.

Immune to my feelings towards him, Charlie smiled brightly. "Clit Clock is exactly what it sounds like. A nice, gentle tap on the clit at the start of each minute. Kisses to mark the hour." He checked his watch. "In five minutes, it will be nine o'clock. I can't wait."

I was still clutching my knickers tightly in one hand. I flung them at him. "Number One," I said, practically snarling.

"The last pair of knickers you'll ever wear," he said, twirling them playfully.

f/lick

I squirmed in my seat. It was still a shock, but now that I understood it, that it was all somehow in my head, the shock dissipated quickly. What didn't fade was the awareness that my clit was being stimulated and that everyone else knew. They knew I wasn't wearing knickers beneath my skirt, that my pubes were gone, and that once per minute my clit would be touched.

Charlie brought me Box Number One and I opened it sullenly. Halfway through the finale and already they had reduced me to a sex object. But there were three prizes still to find and only two penalties. Probability was on my side this time. I drank down bright red, glowing liquid that had the taste and consistency of olive oil.

Another penalty. I wanted to cry. And what the fuck were Anime Boobs?

I stared down at my chest. I liked my breasts. Sure, they weren't as big as my husband would have preferred, but he'd still liked them and they suited me.

It wasn't fair! Four penalties and only two prizes?

f/lick

I controlled the impulse to squirm, although not entirely successfully. Two prizes would have been enough, if I'd known before, but now I was absolutely determined to get all of them. If I had to go through life with Clit Clock and whatever the fuck Anime Boobs were, I wanted money to go with them. Gritting my teeth, I unbuttoned my shirt and passed it to Charlie. "Number Nine."

Number Nine was a prize. "Yes!" I hissed.

f/lick

I was getting used to it. My white lace bra, on the other hand, was starting to really hurt. I succeeded eventually in unclasping the bra and tugging it out through the sleeves of my vest. I had never intended to let the game get so far that my underwear was seen, let alone given away like this. I was down to my skirt and vest, and Charlie looked positively delighted with my bra. "Number Six," I said.

Another prize! The odds evened again and I was down to two boxes: one prize and one penalty.

f/lick

Is it bad that I was actually starting to enjoy it?

I had reached the final decision point. I could stop and go home with four million. It was more than enough, really, and that way I wouldn't have to bare my breasts - and potentially more - in front of Charlie and the audience and everyone I had ever cared about. I could leave with my modesty intact.

My breasts were growing fast. They were straining against the material of the vest, and my nipples made visible points in it.

"Two boxes left," Charlie said. "What's it to be, Amber?"

Still I hesitated. I wanted to continue, but also I wanted to get through it with some dignity left. I wanted that extra six million, but how badly?

An impossible mouth pressed against my pussy, the tongue licking slowly between my labia and teasing my clit briefly, and then with the sweet suction of a gentle kiss it was gone again. "Oh," I said, thoroughly startled. "That was -"

The touch repeated, sweet and intimate, and entirely in my head. "I -"

Again, and again. The audience watched in rapt silence as the invisible mouth made programmed love to my pussy. My breathing grew heavier as I became more and more aroused, and my vest struggled to contain my still expanding breasts.

"It goes by the clock," Charlie said. "One kiss at one o'clock. Two kisses at two. Three at three..."

I understood. It was nine o'clock. I counted the ninth kiss and breathed a sigh of relief - and cried out as the illusory mouth returned for a tenth, an eleventh, a twelfth.

"It's a twenty-four hour clock," Charlie explained with a wicked grin.

"Fuck!" I cried, grabbing my newly huge breasts without thinking and squeezing my nipples. I couldn't escape the mouth, and the vest was beginning to hurt. I surrendered to the moment and pulled it off over my head, exposing my breasts to the cameras and audience before I even got to see them myself - and then I did see them for myself. Huge, round and impossibly perky with nipples like bullets. Incredibly perky and incredibly bouncy too, responding to the slightest movement of my body in a way that silicone implants never did. They seemed to defy gravity and promise erotic pleasure.

Twenty. Twenty-one.

Done.

I looked up at the big screen, seeing myself dressed in nothing but a skirt, my face and chest flushed with arousal, my cartoonish breasts bouncing visibly in response to my breathing, my eyes unnaturally pink.