Total Career Wipeout Ch. 01

But that's just for starters. Below the chrome frames is a large pen divided into four stalls, one for each contestant. The outer walls are shielded from three sides, so no-one in the audience can see anything contained within, and for now the double doors on top remain closed too, preventing the contestants from seeing anything.

"Ok, let's meet the four lovely lads who are hoping to be your lovers tonight!" Ursula beams, and the double doors to each stall swing open.

There are gasps from some of the women as they lay eyes on their partners for the first time. Felicity is shocked to find herself facing a bony, unshaven man of Middle-eastern appearance. At first glance he looks about seventy, but Felicity quickly realises he's much younger, his haggard features probably the result of years of backbreaking toil in some harsh region of the world. Like the others, he's clad in a barely-there G-string, in addition to a couple off heart monitor pads taped to his chest. She knows the latter are vitally important: they serve to alert everybody as soon as any man reaches his climax - at which point the game is over, and the player with the highest score is declared the winner.

Looking down the row, Felicity can see that each girl has been allocated a partner of different ethnicity. Immediately to her right, dark-haired Amanda has been paired up with a stocky, thickset east European: to Felicity's eyes, the man's muscular build, ugly facial scar and broadly unsavoury looks all shout Eastern European gangster. Over on the far left, blonde Jasmine is suspended over a dark-skinned Asian youth. He's smiling broadly at the prospect of getting to grips with the biology student's nubile body, and a healthy bulge is already growing under his sole item of clothing. Meanwhile on Felicity's immediate left the youngest player, Hazel, looks white as a sheet, and it's obvious why: staring up from her stall, her prospective partner is a huge, muscular black man! From the green and white motif on his bulging G-string, Felicity guesses he's Nigerian; around six-feet five, he's incredibly stocky and muscular, his massive shoulders barely squeezing into the width of the stall. A greater contrast couldn't be imagined with the delicate china doll-like figure of Hazel.

"Who the hell decides these pairings?" Felicity puzzles, "And why on earth have they given me someone so old?" None of the other men were anywhere near as ancient as hers. But if she thinks age might have diminished his potency, she couldn't be more wrong. In actual fact, this old devil has the kind of sperm count that fertility clinics dream about, and those wrinkly old balls are brimming over with the most spectacularly buzzing jizz, just waiting to be unleashed on some unlucky lady's sex. Right now though, there's no time to contemplate such things: whoever their partners are, it doesn't alter the basic fact that losing is something to be avoided at all costs!

"Well, I can certainly see the boys are ready to play their part!" the ever-bubbly host interjects; "So without further ado, if you'd like to take your positions, ladies? Girls on top, as usual!"

This is Ursula's little joke of course: the players have absolutely no choice in the matter. With a whir of motors, the frames slide forward until the women are positioned directly above their prospective partners, just short of actually sitting on their laps. Hovering astride her oldster's hips, Felicity notices the dirty bastard's joystick is already straining against his flimsy thong!

* * * *

"So, now everything's in place for the first bout!" Ursula says, shuffling a large stack of laminated cards; "I've got a fresh batch of randomly-selected questions here, ready to tease the girls' brains, while their male helpers are all set to tease their bodies if they're not careful!" That gets a chortle in appreciation from the crowd. "You all know the rules, so let's play - Total Career Wipeout!!"

The audience cheer, a fanfare sounds, and the game is on. The host sidles over to the first girl in line, the buck-toothed Amanda. Ursula leans over to talk to her, in the process displaying an unnecessary amount of cleavage for the cameras:

"Amanda, welcome! Nice bikini you've got there, let's see if you can hang onto it!" The dark-haired girl blinks as a mike is shoved under her nose. Felicity wonders why they still need hand microphones - all the girls are fitted with head mikes anyway. She doesn't realise that the head mikes serve a more vital purpose: they're needed to capture every surprised gasp, muttered swearword, or grunt of satisfaction that escapes the girls' lips once the action gets underway. The program makers are determined not to miss out!

"Your first question, Amanda, is on the subject of... film: Who directed the movie "2001- A Space Odyssey"?"

"Oh - umm..." the classics student furrows her brow, willing an answer to come. In the background a large clock loudly ticks down the seconds - a regular prop specially designed to add to the tension. Every man in the audience is mentally crossing his fingers, praying she doesn't get it, their eyes all fixed on her shapely baps! To her left meanwhile, Felicity has to bite her lip to stop herself shouting out the answer - she knows this one immediately!

Luckily for Amanda, the right name pops into her head just before the time runs out: "Erm - oh! - Stanley Kubrick!" she shouts, her face lighting up, knowing she's got it right.

"Yes, that's absolutely right!" the host responds, "You can breathe easy this time!"

Ursula moves on to the second girl, the red-haired Felicity: "Felicity, good evening! Your first question is on the subject of... mythology!"

"Oh crap!" thinks Felicity, "Why did it have to be that?"

"Can you tell me, Felicity: in which country's mythology was the god Anubis was worshipped?"

"Ok, stay calm," Felicity thinks, "Surely it can only be one of a few countries?" The seconds tick away like the chimes of doom as she wracks her brains for the answer. She knows she must take a chance:

"Egypt?" she offers, more in hope than expectation.

"That's correct, Felicity!" Ursula exclaims; then, masking her mouth with her hand in a blatantly obvious ruse, she whispers loudly: "Good guess!!"

Ursula moves on quickly to the third girl in line. Hazel is already looking rather unhappy about her situation, but can do nothing about it, securely shackled to her stainless steel frame.

"Hazel from Warwick, welcome to the show!" Ursula announces brightly. "Your first question is about... fashion! Which item of women's clothing, invented in 1946, is named after an island in the Pacific?"

"Pretty easy, surely?" Felicity thinks to herself. But amazingly, the dainty brunette looks confused, while the seconds tick away inexorably. Finally the clock's single hand winds down to zero and an off-key gong noise resonates around the studio; Hazel's time has expired - as will her top, in just a few moments!

"Oh no, Hazel - you're wearing one!!" Ursula looks awfully disappointed; "The answer was bikini!" and she bends forward to take a vague swipe at the girl's shoulder in mock annoyance. "Well, I hope you're not too attached to yours, Hazel, because you're about to lose a half of it! Yes, it's our first forfeit of the night - take 'em away, Zack!"

At her command, Zack, the unseen rigger who lurks backstage, flips a switch. From the steel frame, clips latch onto the strings of Hazel's bikini top, pulling the knots loose; then hidden wires yank the top away, hoisting it high among the lighting rigs before swooping down again to a box marked "cin-bin" on one side of the set. A rush of air and a sheet of flame from the receptacle announce the untimely demise of Hazel's favourite beachwear.

"Whooo!" the audience cry, pantomime-style, as Hazel's perky A-cup breasts and highly suckable nipples are exposed for scrutiny. Whatever else happens tonight, this young lass will now spend the rest of the evening topless.

"Well, that's got the game underway! Hope you're not getting chilly there, Hazel?" Ursula teases.

"Oh no, no I'm fine!" the girl answers good-naturedly, determined not to show her opponents any hint of weakness at this stage.

"Good sport!" replies the host, "...of course, if you do get cold, we'll easily be able to tell!!" The audience roar as the brunette's smile wavers slightly, her cheeks reddening under the glare of the studio lights while Ursula, satisfied, moves on to the next contestant.

"And lastly, the lovely Jasmine!" The athletic girl looks composed as the spotlights move back onto her "And your starting subject is: mathematics. What is one-hundred and forty-four divided by twelve??"

She shoots the answer right back: "Oh, that's twelve, Ursula."

"You're absolutely right!" declares the host. There's cheering from one corner of the audience: it sounds like the Cardiff student has brought along a fair gang of supporters tonight.

"Well, that's the end of round one, but from now on the questions get just a little bit harder!" Ursula purrs, giving a sideways look at the recumbent men. "So, which of our plucky contestants will be dazzling us with their intellect, and who will be showing off... their other talents?" At this a mischievous smirk playing across her full lips; "We'll be finding out soon enough, right after this break!"

Then the leggy host strides languidly back to her podium, her tight evening gown clinging to her ample behind that rolls seductively with her gait.

The commercial break acts as the starting gun for a frenzy of online betting over the fate of these four girls. Which of them will be the first to get stripped naked? Who will be first to be penetrated? An avalanche of feverish speculation is underway. But in truth, at this stage, nobody can predict the result: if Hazel carries on as she's begun, the whole thing could be over in minutes, with minimal embarrassment for the other players. On the other hand, the ordeal could be stretched over the whole hour's broadcast. It was anyone's guess.

* * * *

With the ad break almost over, the crew are busy resuming their positions. Felicity is feeling much less confident now than she did at the start - the questions hadn't been too bad so far, but she knew they'd only get tougher as the game progressed.

But at least Felicity is doing better than her topless neighbour, Hazel, who is of course horrified to have botched her very first question. For the Warwick student, failure is simply not an option - she needs to win this thing and get back to her studies as soon as possible; she's already fallen behind with her coursework while waiting to get on the damn show, and any further delay would be simply unacceptable!

"And we're live in five, four, three ..." the floor manager cues. The audience are hushed as red warning lights blink on around the set; play is underway again

"And welcome back to Total Career Wipeout!" the host exclaims sunnily, "If you missed the start, only Hazel has slipped up so far - as you can probably tell!" Ursula looks sidelong at the unfortunate girl, her long lashes lowering towards Hazel's bare bosoms.

"But there's still an awfully long way to go in this game... and somebody's definitely going all the way tonight!" She reinforces her last comment with a cheeky wink to camera, and all four students squirm uncomfortably at the laughter that greets it. Ursula is renowned for her line in crap jokes, and many previous contestants have found themselves the target for her undue mockery.

Ursula strolls over to the right of the line: "Amanda, your next question!" she beams, "Can you tell us, who is this famous singer?"

The strains of a familiar song echo around the studio. It's the old classic "Je Ne Regrette Rien"; instantly recognisable to Hazel, the music student, though of course she stays tight-lipped. Amanda looks dumbfounded however, and when the singing abruptly stops she just shakes her head cluelessly.

"Oh, Amanda," Ursula looks crestfallen, "Don't you know anything? I'll bet the audience know - anybody?" and she turns to face the crowd, palms raised.

"Edith Piaf!" they chorus. Amanda still looks none the wiser!

"Of course!" Ursula bows in appreciation; "The legendary Edith Piaf, but never mind Amanda, now you get to show off your lovely bristols to the boys! Zack, take 'em away!"

The men's prayers have been answered. Before she can gather her wits, Amanda feels hidden wires tugging at her bikini string and next second she is left completely topless! She's barely recovered from the shock when the roar of the "cin-bin" confirms that her designer two-piece has just been transformed into a one-piece.

The entire studio gawps as Amanda's gravity-defying norks bounce free, a deep flush of embarrassment colouring the girl's cheeks and upper bosom while she hangs there, powerless to shield her body from so many goggling eyes.

Her partner seems impressed too. Amanda feels acutely uncomfortable as the Russian's lecherous gaze roams over her bountiful boobs, his yellowed teeth cracking into a smile. With his scarred features and powerful build, he looks like the sort of brute who would happily pin Amanda to the ground and rape every one of her holes in turn if they ever crossed paths in some dark alley.

It's Felicity's turn next: "And your second round question is on... geography! What is the capital of Nepal?"

Once again Felicity is forced to hazard a guess, but this time she's not so lucky.

"Uh... Bangkok?" she asks.

"Oh no, that's not right, Felicity" Ursula commiserates, "You're going to kick yourself: the right answer was Kathmandu - yes, you remember it now?" The girl nods in agreement, looking resigned to her fate.

"But there's no second chances in this game; it's time to... take 'em away!"

Felicity receives even less warning than Amanda as her top is abruptly whipped away, suddenly leaving her completely naked from the waist up. Though a quite confident girl, she's always been self-conscious about her modest bosoms and now feels acutely aware of millions of viewers scrutinising them as they're broadcast nationwide. She imagines people comparing them unfavourably with those of her more well-endowed neighbours, especially the voluptuous Ursula, and secretly dreads that the host will make some cheeky comment. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she'd left some poor girl cringing in embarrassment! But instead, to Felicity's immense relief, Ursula moves briskly on to her next victim.

"Ok, Hazel," she says perkily, "Your subject is... sport! What three words make up the motto of the Olympic games?"

"Bloody typical," Hazel thinks, "I can answer everyone else's questions but not my own! Come on, I should know this."

Still not completely sure, she waits until the very last moment before answering.

"I - I think it's "Faster, Further, Higher" Ursula?"

The host winces, "Oooh, not quite! It's actually "Faster, Higher, Stronger". Well, good thing you're not appearing in the Olympics, Hazel, because I'm afraid that bikini's on its way to the great beach volleyball game in the sky! Take 'em away, Zack!"

Clips grab hold of the strings of Hazel's bikini bottom, and also latch onto her opposite number's G-string. Unseen wires draw tight and then the two garments soar high into the air, following the same trajectory as the music student's top until they reach the cin-bin, where both are reduced to ashes. Unleashed from its confinement, the African's magnificent member rears up, producing a humorous tableau as all four students gasp in unison: his cock is a sight to behold, fully eight inches long and as thick as a cucumber. None of them have ever seen such a huge babymaker before! Hazel wonders how anyone could possibly expect her to handle such a beast. She doesn't know that her three competitors are all quietly hoping the pretty brunette will be forced to take on the challenge, just to see her try!

"My God!!" shrieks Ursula, eyes bulging as she too admires the view "What a beauty! It fair takes your breath away, doesn't it, Haze?" Then she bends closer to Hazel's ear, lowering her voice to a fake whisper: "Or maybe we'll save that for later...?" The audience snigger while Hazel burns with embarrassment. She's beginning to shape up as Ursula's favourite teasing target.

Finally Ursula arrives back at Jasmine again. "Well Jasmine, let's see if somebody can get at least one question right this round! Your subject... ancient history. In ancient Greece, who abducted the legendary beauty Helen of Troy?"

The blonde looks wistfully to one side, biting her lower lip before answering: "Paris?"

"Yes that's correct!" Ursula chirps, then winks to the girl's Asian partner, "Bad luck there, Saamir, guess you'll just have to keep waiting and hoping!"

* * * *

All too soon another round begins, and the host looks eager to get going; she seems positively gleeful that so many points are being dropped this early in the game:

"Ooooh, it's round three and the boys can hardly wait, can you boys?" she bubbles.

A ragged chorus of agreement comes back from the male volunteers, hidden from the audience's gaze in their wooden stalls. "Well, I promise not to keep you waiting too long, guys!" she says, looking askance at the row of supine men; "Let's hope you can get your hands on those lovely bods while they're still HOT!"

Third place along, Hazel isn't listening. Her eyes are shut tight and she's taking a deep breaths to calm herself, while her bare bosoms rise and fall gently. She knows she can't afford to screw up again this round, otherwise... well, it just doesn't bear thinking about! But when Hazel opens her eyes again, she realises that her huge African partner is no longer looking at her. He's staring instead at her neighbour Jasmine, who has her eyes fixed on the man's impressive erection. As Hazel watches, the blonde looks him right in the face, then runs her tongue sensually around her parted lips. It's obvious what she's doing - the bitch is trying to improve her own odds by deliberately arousing Hazel's partner! If she hadn't been manacled firmly in place, Hazel could have slapped her! How could a classy girl like that stoop to such dirty tactics?

But next second Jasmine is facing forwards again, and nobody else seems to have noticed what she's just done. Everyone is watching Ursula as she sidles up to Amanda, who's already had to endure several minutes with her wonderful jiggly jugs on public display.

"Amanda, your question is on... space exploration! In 1969, what was the number of the Apollo mission that landed the first men on the moon?"

Once again, to Ursula's barely-concealed joy, the girl is left clueless. "Number seven?" she answers hopefully.

"Not quite, I'm afraid it was actually number eleven. Well Amanda, I'll bet you're dying to see what Viktor's got to offer? Well wonder no more, because unveiling time is here - let's give those crotches some air, Zack!"

The audience chatter in anticipation, then suddenly both Amanda and Viktor's thongs rocket toward the ceiling, before hurtling towards to the cin-bin. Now revealed, the Russian's cock is no less thuggish-looking than the rest of him, towering upwards from a forest of black hair with sprawling blue veins covering its fat stem, which has a distinct leftward kink halfway along. Even as Amanda watches, his menacing member gives a hideous twitch and she jumps, much to Ursula's amusement:

"Wow! Looks like he's ready when you are, eh Amanda?" the host chortles, playfully patting the younger woman's bare shoulder. But the student isn't laughing. Whatever it takes, she knows she must get her next question right and save herself from this bastard.

It's Felicity's turn next. Slowly, Ursula draws another card.

"OK, your question is on... literature: the classics "Death of a Salesman" and "The Misfits" were penned by which famous American playwright?"