Prize or Penalty Ch. 07: Medusa

Rose sighed as the audience laughed. It was an annoying penalty, but not a terrible one, and at least it was over now. There would be no more penalties, no more physical transformations, monstrous or otherwise.

Impulsively, she glanced up at the big display. The camera showed her perched on the high chair, the waves of her strawberry blonde hair pronounced and agitated, her jutting nipples swollen as if aroused with desire. A body beautiful indeed, but with a sinister something too.

Sitting there with her thighs parted - just a little, but she had consciously pressed them tight together earlier, and she hurriedly snapped them shut again. Show Off. The voyeur's delight. An almost absurd penalty, given that she was showing off almost everything already, but was it having an effect already? Making her want to be seen? What would Sam think of his bride showing the whole world her clean-shaven pussy on her hen night?

Keeping her legs as tightly together as possible, Rose slipped her lace knickers down her legs and handed them to Charlie. "Box Number 5," she said, and glowered at his back as he sauntered off, twirling her knickers as he went. There went her final item of clothing, to get her only prize.

One test tube of bitter green liquid later, and a whole pointless reveal of the four unchosen prizes later, Rose finally got to open the envelope and show the audience the card that made her a millionaire. Relief that it was all over, as well as the thrill of the prize, had her jumping up and down a little in her chair - only belatedly aware that her thighs had parted, and that a camera was staring straight between them. A prize for the audience.

The elfin producer lady, Sarah, sashayed onto the stage, her tail whipping behind her. "Well, Rose," she said, smiling. "You're a winner tonight, but no one goes home empty-handed, and you get a pair of Prize or Penalty boots."

Sarah held them up for the audience to see. They were knee-high boots with thick platforms and six-inch stiletto heels, black leather with gold buckles at the front and pink laces at the back. The old Rose would not have looked at them twice in a shop, let alone dared to try them on, but the new Rose, afflicted as she was now by the Boot Babe penalty, felt herself almost magnetically drawn to them.

"Let me help you," Sarah said, guiding Rose's feet one by one into the boots. The touch of leather against her skin felt intimate, almost erotic, or perhaps it was Sarah's hands on her thighs, the knowledge that her pussy was completely exposed to Sarah's view as she knelt to tighten the buckles. Or perhaps it was the nonchalant way Charlie stroked his huge cock as he stood nearby, watching.

Rose allowed Sarah to guide her from the stage. Walking was a wholly unfamiliar exercise. She had never walked in shoes with such high heels or such thick platforms, and she was deeply conscious too of the weight and bounce of her new breasts.

"Good bye, Rose," Charlie called over the audience's clapping and cheering. "Go home and tell your daddy what a bad girl you've been tonight." And Rose, who had been trying not to give in to that exact fantasy, stumbled from the shock of hearing it spoken for the whole world to know.

*

In the quiet solitude of the dressing room, still naked save for the boots, Rose stared at herself in the mirror. Between her breasts and her boots, she looked like a porn star - from the neck down, at least. Her face was expressionless after an emotionally draining show, and the blue had drained from her eyes to leave her irises a bewitching silver-grey.

More startling were the pencil-thin serpents winding restlessly within the waves of her strawberry blonde hair. When she dared to touch them, they coiled playfully between her fingers. They were actual snakes, too, with scales of yellow and green, black eyes and forked tongues. They had made her Medusa indeed, and Rose wondered if men would turn to stone at the sight of her.

Monstrous indeed. Would Sam even be able to look at her now? Of course the wedding that she had planned for years would have to be cancelled now, but was there any hope for her and Sam? They had been building a whole life together. They shared a house, had talked about children, had plans for Christmas and the summer holidays. They had a honeymoon booked in the Seychelles!

The door opened behind her and Sarah strode in. "Your very own Prize or Penalty T-shirt," she said, and Rose gratefully worked it on.

Rose stared at her reflection, and at the way her nipples seemed determined to puncture the fabric. It was good not to be completely exposed, to have something besides the boots to wear, but it was oddly disappointing also. "Also," Sarah said, "here are the shoes you removed at the start, although I doubt you'll still want them."

Rose stared at the strappy gold sandals that she had selected earlier in the evening with great care. Nothing about them appealed to her any longer. "No," she agreed. Abruptly aware of just how much the show had changed her, inside and out, Rose burst into tears.

"Go home, Rose," Sarah said gently. "I'm sure everything will seem better in the morning."

Rose nodded. Home, yes. To a warm, welcoming embrace. That was what she needed.

"Oh, and by the way," Sarah added, staring deeply into Rose's eyes. "I think you'll find - whenever you're aroused - that people are very persuadable."

*

Less than a minute after Sarah's exit, Emma tentatively edged into Rose's dressing room. "I'm so sorry, Rose," she said in a rush. "If I'd - Woah!"

Rose screamed as the serpents in her hair whipped out, coiling and hissing in agitated dance. Her reflection in the mirror looked more like the Medusa of myth than ever - but no one was turning to stone. As the moment's panic passed, Rose consciously tried to calm herself and ran her hands soothingly through her hair, and gradually the serpents returned to their hidden state with only a rippling of discontent.

Emma watched fearfully from the doorway, and Rose wondered why they had reacted like that to Emma but not to Sarah. Perhaps it was because Rose herself had felt drawn to Sarah, welcoming that confusing moment of intimacy in a very public setting as Sarah slipped the leather boots into place.

Except that didn't really make sense, because Rose had always nursed a secret attraction to Emma. Her bisexual side was something Rose had never dared to explore, had always done her best to suppress, and besides, Emma was always sneering about lesbians.

"I love your new breasts," Emma said, although Rose detected a hint of jealousy. Emma had always enjoyed being the one whose breasts everyone stared at, but compared now to Rose's, Emma's were merely average.

Rose suppressed a laugh, but for the first time since her name was called earlier, she actually felt positive about the direction her hen night had taken. "Do you think Sam will like them?" she asked, thrusting her chest out to exaggerate her welcome new curves.

This time there was no mistaking the flash of anger in Emma's eyes, the twist of displeasure in her lips. It confirmed a suspicion that Rose had long held: that Emma wanted Sam for herself. Perhaps, indeed, she had already had him, the way she so often went after Rose's boyfriends.

Was that why the serpents had reacted like that? They shared that deep suspicion, that distrust of Emma as a friend. "Do you think he'll like these?" she added, allowing her new companions to emerge from the concealing waves.

"Maybe not," Emma said, staring at them with visible fear. Fear tinged with exultation. With the knowledge of victory.

"No," agreed Rose, sadly. "Where are the others?"

"I sent them home. Said I'd bring you these" - she held up Rose's coat and handbag - "and make sure you got home safely."

Rose eyed the coat curiously. The rules stated that she had to leave wearing only the clothes given or returned to her by the studio, and that didn't include the coat. But Rose was surprised to feel no pressing need or desire to wear it. It wasn't that she had any particular, exhibitionist desire to show off her pussy to Emma and everyone they might meet on the way out, but rather that the thought of dressing to prevent it was no longer an instinctive one.

"Give them to me outside," she said, and stood. Carefully. The boots fit her perfectly, and comfortably, but she still hadn't mastered walking in such high heels. She did like the way they made her feel taller than Emma for once. "I may need to hold on to you for balance," she added.

Emma laughed. "I bet. But wait." She fished out her phone and aimed it at Rose. The camera flashed. "The sexy stripper look is great on you. Let's see what Sam thinks."

"Wait - no!" Rose shouted, snatching for the phone, but Emma backed out of the room, tapping hurriedly. Sending it. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Oh, please." Emma rolled her eyes. "I know you. You'd have spent the whole night agonising about what to say. How to tell him. 'Oh, Sam! I know I've got snakes in my hair, but do you like my pornstar tits?'"

Underneath Emma's pretence of friendly concern was a vicious streak that Rose had never seen directed at her before. The serpents in Rose's hair, concealed once more, writhed in agitation, and she sensed that whatever happened next with Sam, her friendship with Emma was a thing of the past.

But in a way, she was grateful that Emma had taken the decision out of her hands. The truth was out. The confrontation inevitable. There was only one thing now that she really wanted to know. Keeping her voice light and neutral, she asked, "Have you ever done it? With Sam?"

Emma's reaction was immediate. And honest. "What? No!" Only afterwards was there the flush of guilt, the tell-tale sign that of course she did want to.

Rose smiled, relieved. Aware that they were standing in a corridor, Rose dressed only in T-shirt and boots, her bare pussy exposed to the cool air and hardly hidden at all by the hem of the shirt, Rose put her hand on Emma's shoulder for balance, and said, "Let's go."

*

Despite having had her pussy exposed to an entire studio audience and, in time, millions of viewers across the world, somehow there was more embarrassment in walking half-dressed out of the studio, strangers staring at her along the way, not quite seeing what wasn't quite visible. The sense of being dressed, but improperly so.

The studio had called for a taxi and it was waiting outside for her. Emma climbed in first and Rose followed her in. There was a profound relief in being able to close the door, putting the studio and its nightmarish power behind her - symbolically as well as literally. It was only when she caught the taxi driver glancing at her crotch out of the corner of his eye that she realised her thighs were parted and her T-shirt bunched up, her pussy practically on display for him.

Emma sniggered quietly as Rose made a point of closing her legs and straightening her T-shirt. Rose pursed her lips angrily and stared out of the window.

Her phone rang. It was Sam. "What the fuck, Rose?" he practically screamed.

Rose sighed. "Emma thought Prize or Penalty would make a great hen night."

"You didn't have to actually play."

"On the up side, I won a great pair of tits and a cool million." Rose was proud at how calm she was managing to sound.

There was silence for several long seconds, then: "Rose, you've fucking got snakes in your hair."

"Is that a problem for you?"

"Of course it's a fucking problem for me!"

Of course it was. She wondered what he would say if she told him about her new incest kink. "Are you saying you don't want to marry me?" It was a cruel question to ask. It seemed forever ago now that she had opened the first penalty box and considered that very question. She kept her voice calm, as if entirely indifferent to the answer, but in truth she already knew the answer and hated it. Hated him for it.

Silence again. The dark countryside rolled past her outside the taxi. Taking her to the house she shared with Sam. Who wasn't there, or maybe he was, but either way it wasn't where she needed to be. Not any more.

"No," he said, finally. "No. Not now. I need time. To think." The call ended abruptly, and Rose sat quietly for a minute, mourning. Her life as she knew it over.

"I'm sorry," Emma said, sounding anything but.

Rose stirred from her dark thoughts, gave the taxi driver a new address to head for, and turned to look at her once-friend. She wondered how long it would be before Emma was in Sam's bed, perhaps even walking down the aisle to him and a life of wedded bliss. She wondered if one day soon, she would bump into Emma on the street somewhere, and Emma's belly would be round with Sam's child.

She thought of all this, and remembered Sarah's parting line. "I think you'll find," Sarah had said, "whenever you're aroused, that people are very persuadable." It was an odd thing to say, and maybe meant nothing much at all, but Rose wondered if there was something more to it. Something very useful, indeed. Aroused...

She parted her thighs deliberately and tugged her T-shirt off over her head - an action that did not go unobserved by the driver whose eyes widened. He adjusted the rear-view mirror to see her better. "What are you doing?" Emma asked. "Is this the effect of that Show Off penalty?"

Rose ignored the question. The driver's unsubtle appreciation of her had the desired effect of stirring her arousal. "Do you want to know Sam's greatest fantasy?" she asked Emma, looking deeply into her eyes. Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "Sam wants to fuck a lesbian while she's eating out her girlfriend. He wants to be the one man in the world who can make her come."

Emma laughed uncomfortably. "Isn't that every guy's fantasy?"

"Perhaps," Rose agreed. "But we role-play it. I tell him you're a lesbian and that you love eating my pussy, and he begs me to invite you to have a threesome with us."

"I'm not a lesbian!"

"No, but I bet if I sent him a photo of you eating me out, he'd be so fucking hot for you..."

Even in the dimly lit interior of the taxi, it was obvious that Emma was blushing. "I couldn't do that," she said, but without conviction.

That she hadn't immediately recoiled in disgust was intriguing. Maybe Rose did indeed have some power of persuasion. "It's just a role-play," she said. "It wouldn't mean you're really a lesbian. Just think how hard it would make Sam's cock."

"Maybe..." Emma whispered.

The discovery of this power was like an aphrodisiac to Rose. There was no denying the heat of her arousal, the sudden throbbing demand of her clit at the thought of Emma bending to suck on it. Rose caressed her new breasts lovingly, amazed by how sensitive her huge, swollen nipples were. She leaned her back against the door, and hooked one boot over the backseat, opening herself completely for Emma. "Do it, Emma," she said. "Show Sam what a horny, cock-hungry lesbian slut you are."

With a whimper that could have been lust or denial, perhaps both, Emma descended on Rose's pussy. Her tongue licked tentatively at the target, as if reluctant to commit, but even this was a wonderful first for Rose who had never felt the intimate touch of a woman before. "You're so wet," Emma murmured.

The taxi came to a stop at the side of the road and the driver twisted round to watch. With one hand, Rose set her phone to record, its torch shining bright, and with the other she wound her fingers through Emma's hair, holding her head in place. "I want to hear you beg for a hard cock, you lesbian slut," she growled, a little amazed by her own dirty talk. She'd never had the courage to say such things before.

"I need a hard cock," Emma obliged. "Fuck me, Sam." Her tongue penetrated deeper, less shy now about this act of lesbian adoration.

Rose gasped as soft lips brushed across her clit. "Keep begging, slut," she said. "Beg for a hard cock, any cock, you don't care whose."

"Please," Emma mumbled, her voice muffled. "I need a hard cock in me. Any cock!"

That was all the invitation the driver needed. Seconds later, the door was open behind Emma, the driver lifting her skirt and tugging awkwardly at her panties. "That's right, Sam," Rose said, sensing Emma's sudden hesitation. "Show this lesbian slut what a real cock can do."

The driver, whose name almost certainly wasn't Sam, was happy to play the role - and his cock was already hard. An impressive size too, longer than any Rose had ever had the pleasure of. Not bothering with protection, he lined up for entry and thrust in with rough determination. Emma squealed in complaint, but Rose held her still. "Make me come, slut," she ordered.

But Emma was too inexperienced, and too distracted by the cock fucking her brutally from behind, to do more than tease. Rose didn't care, enjoying too much this proof of her persuasive new power, and knowing that whatever happened in the future, Emma would always remember the night she let a stranger fuck her while she ate out her best friend's pussy.

With a guttural moan of pleasure, the driver finished, sooner than Rose would have liked. By her whimpering convulsions, Rose guessed that Emma had come too. She lifted Emma's head up so that the camera could see her face flushed, her mouth and chin visibly wet. "Thank you, Emma," Rose said sweetly, and pushed her away.

As the driver returned to the front seat and the taxi pulled away onto the road, Emma sat in tense silence. Rose tried not to laugh as she imagined the thoughts running through her once-friend's head.

Almost too soon, their destination was reached, and Rose climbed out. "Thank you for a wonderful hen night," she said, and received only an angry glare in response. "Don't forget to tip the driver..."

*

Rose had to ring the bell four times before the door was finally opened by a grumpy looking man in red pyjamas and a blue dressing gown. "Hi Daddy," she said contritely, and felt a rush of guilty pleasure at how erotic those words sounded in her own ears. She had not come home with the intent to seduce, but because she really had nowhere else to go. Returning to Sam wasn't an option, and neither was Emma now. Returning to her parents' house, the house she had grown up in, had been the sensible choice.

Or it should have been, but she was still aroused from her manipulation of Emma, and now the full impact of that first penalty was playing out. She had never felt more like a bad girl in need of a spanking, followed by a good, hard fuck.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath.

"Oh, dear," he said with a heavy sigh and retreated inside, leaving her to close the door. "Did you have a fight?"

She followed him through to the kitchen, keeping her coat wrapped as far about her as it could. It wasn't just her wedding dress that no longer fit. "Do you know that show?" she asked once he had filled the kettle and set it to boil. "Prize or Penalty. With the erotic and physical transformations?"

Her father frowned, and seemed suddenly afraid. Afraid even to look at her. "I've heard of it."

"We went there tonight. Me and the girls. I, ah, won something." She let her coat fall to the floor, and waited.

He turned to look at her, visibly reluctant, and winced at the sight of her breasts pushing against the T-shirt. "I see," he said, after a prolonged pause.

"There's more." She allowed the serpents to emerge cautiously from her hair. Taking a startled step backwards, he stared at her monstrously transformed head as the serpents coiled in agitation. With her hands, Rose soothed them until they retreated from sight again. "They take a bit of getting used to," she said.

"I imagine so." Tearing his eyes away from her head, away from her breasts, he registered at last how little she was actually wearing. "Um, maybe you should put something on."