Total Career Wipeout Ch. 01

Felicity is nonplussed, her mouth hanging open dumbly, not even hazarding a guess as her time ticks away. Ursula, as usual, delights in pronouncing judgement:

"Oh Felicity, shame on you!" she sniggers cruelly, "You don't know world-renowned playwright Arthur Miller? Well I'm afraid it's another forfeit for you - time to lose those thongs!"

Hidden wires tug; knots unravel; and in the blink of an eye, their lower garments are whisked away, sailing through the air towards an appointment with the roaring flames of the cin-bin. Felicity will now spend the rest of the show completely bare-assed. As will her scrawny partner; his dick doesn't look any cleaner than the rest of him, and she feels sick at the thought of it touching any part of her body. And for some reason this man just can't seem to take his eyes off her gingery bush, reminding Felicity how grateful she is that the partition prevents anybody else from seeing anything below. She's totally unaware that no less than six concealed cameras are currently trained on her body from all angles, ogling every valley and hummock of her delectable nude form.

But that's nothing to awkward position that young Hazel finds herself in. Her partner's prick is so huge, the tip is already brushing against the music student's pubes while she hangs suspended above him - a foretaste of what she has to look forward to if she doesn't buck her ideas up!

"OK, Hazel, a chance to redeem yourself now;" Ursula states perkily, "Your question is on: geography. Which is the largest island in the Caribbean?"

"Oh - Jamaica!" Hazel fires back immediately, sure she's got it right.

"I'm afraid not, Hazel, it's actually Cuba!" The host tilts her head in mock sympathy; then turns straight to the girl's partner, her gleaming smile instantly rematerializing:

"Which means it's your lucky night, Osman! Because now you get to find out if that heavenly body feels as good as it looks - it's time to free those fumbling fingers! Let him loose, Zak!"

The audience cheer and whistle their approval as the chrome manacles that have so far restrained the man's wrists retract back into the bench. Hazel stares in horror at the huge, dark, spade-like hands ascending towards her defenceless body.

Her lovely jiggly tits keep him entertained for some time. Osman shows no reservations, grabbing and squeezing on her funbags as if it was his conjugal right while Hazel winces and grunts throughout the unrestrained pawing, knowing for sure that she'll have some interesting bruises tomorrow morning. But this is just the beginning of her ordeal. Before long, his hands are sliding down over her boyish hips.

Before the show, concerned over the skimpy outfit she had to wear, Hazel had carefully waxed her bikini line. Now she has reason to regret her action: her minge is utterly exposed as the Nigerian's dusky digits scrabble at her fleshy folds, the beautifully symmetrical frill of her inner lips a sight to behold and then, while he continues his exploration, her clitoris pops out on full view. Hazel's mind is struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is a man she's only just met. "Thank Christ no-one can see below the screen!" she keeps thinking to herself, unaware of the hidden camera pointing directly at her besieged sex from just a couple of feet away. As his thumbs hook between her labia, yanking them wide apart, its lens peers into the inky blackness of her secret cavern, speculating over the juicy pleasures within.

Satisfied that Hazel has enjoyed sufficient humiliation for the moment, Ursula moves on to Jasmine. Once again she manages to field her question without breaking sweat and remains fully clothed. By now Felicity is beginning to get rather annoyed with her blonde opponent; she's a little too confident for her liking. She prays the Cardiff student will get a horrible question next round and lose her top, just to give her a taste of the degradation everyone else has suffered! But for now they can all take a breather while the show goes for a commercial break...

* * * *

As the crew prepare for round four, everyone knows the contest is fast approaching a critical point. There'll be no more interruptions before the end of the game now; events could snowball very rapidly at any moment. Three girls are just a couple of steps from receiving their comeuppance, and if that happens, both director and crew must be ready to react quickly, to focus on the lucky individual!

Transmission resumes with Ursula now standing at the front of the stage, all four girls lined up behind her:

"Phew," she wipes her brow theatrically, "It's round four, and things are certainly hotting up! I wonder which of my lovely boys will be the first to dip his wick? It could even happen this round! So let's play!"

Ursula returns to stand beside Amanda: "Right then, your fourth round question is on: biology. Where in the human body would you find the coccyx?"

"Erm..." Amanda hesitates, trying to get her brain in gear, but the answer just won't come.

"Oh dear, I thought that was an easy one!" Ursula looks surprised as the time runs out, "I'll bet Viktor here knows where it is, don't you, Viktor?" she winks at the recumbent Russian; he nods and smiles, momentarily taking his hungry eyes off the classics student's supple young body.

"Well, I guess we'd better release Viktor's hands so he can show you, Amanda!"

Suddenly the manacles across the man's wrists slide back. Amanda looks anxious as he takes hold of her hips: for the first time, she properly appreciates this man's surprising physical strength. His fingers smooth over her hips, reaching around to encompass her taut bottom. Shock registers on her face as one fat thumb presses between her bum cheeks. Brusquely it shoves its way into her hole, curling upwards to press forcefully against the roof of her rectum, before touching... the tip of her spine.

"Uuuuhhhngggghhh!"

Ursula is merciless: "Aha! There it is Amanda, just in the lower back - you'll remember next time, won't you? Well, I suppose I'd better leave you two to get to know each other better!" and she curtly turns her back on the humiliated Hull student, abandoning Amanda to her fate as the brute's marauding hands begin exploring her body in earnest.

The host moves on to Felicity, now flanked by on both sides by girls enduring a most intimate grabbing and groping. Ursula is pleased to see the Manchester student looking more anxious: a few nerves always added spice to the performance!

"Let's see how you do, Felicity..." she twinkles, slowly drawing a question card from her pack; "Your question is on... television. In which sitcom are the characters regularly seen in the Café Nervosa?"

At least half the audience know this one, but unfortunately it means nothing to the serious-minded young ethnic relations student.

"Sex and the City?" she ventures, just before time runs out.

"Not as far as I know, Felicity!" Ursula chortles, "It was actually from Frasier! Oh dear, what are we going to do with you? Well, maybe Ishmael can help uncover your hidden talents, because it's time to unleash those roving hands! Ready, Ishmael?"

He doesn't need a second invitation - the minute the manacles slide back, a pair of eager hands are heading for Felicity's tempting tits. She gasps as he grabs hold, bony fingers digging into the soft, yielding breastflesh, kneading and stroking, a look of awe on his haggard face. She winces as his rough fingertips, calloused from a lifetime working some unforgiving soil, scrape across the sensitive buds of her nipples; the sensation is exquisite torture, sending thrills of perverted pleasure shooting along her nerve endings.

Then his hands are descending, traversing the soft swell of her stomach, drawn towards her steamy loins. Thumbs brush through her pussy hair; Felicity's lips tremble as the man's inquisitive fingers part her labia and delve inside, violating her most intimate of personal spaces. He mutters quietly while he toils, pushing ever deeper, prising, rubbing and stroking, seemingly intent on discovering how many digits he can cram into Felicity's juicy interior at once. Then he finds her clitoris. Soon she's grunting and biting her lip, desperately hoping no-one's has noticed the mini orgasm she's just had.

Satisfied that Felicity has received enough coverage, Ursula swaggers calmly over to Hazel, fixing her with a knowing look while running her long, red nails along the edge of the quiz cards. The host knows just how much trouble this young woman is in, how desperate she must be to avoid having her tight twat impaled on that towering edifice of a prick!

"Well now, Hazel! Better get this one right, or you'll be getting to know your new friend here a LOT better!" Ursula giggles mischievously, while the girl gulps audibly.

"Your question then: On a standard computer keyboard, which is the only vowel that's not on the top line?"

Hazel hesitates, trying to picture her computer at home, "Oh, it's, uhm..."

"Wrong," Ursula cuts her off, "I'm afraid the correct answer was A, not O, which means..."

"What!!" the girl looks horrified, "No, that's not what I meant - I meant A - I meant A!!"

"I'm afraid we have to take your first answer, Hazel!" Ursula scolds, "Which means it's time to...?" and she turns to face the cameras, raising her arms theatrically as the audience chant in unison:

"Lower away!"

Ursula's glittering smile couldn't be more of a contrast with the student's mortified expression as, to Hazel's left and right, motors hum into life, and slowly the metal frame swivels and shifts, commencing its downwards journey. The audience are all glued to the monitor screens, relishing the girl's shocked expression when her partner wraps one huge hand around the base of his ebony cock and takes aim.

For an instant Hazel's minge hovers just above Osman's monstrous organ; then his advancing column pushes against her tight slit, and her outer lips spread to envelop his unfeasibly broad crown. Despite their own precarious situations, the other girls can't help but stare goggle-eyed at their near neighbour - surely there's no way her slim body can possibly accommodate such a monster? But a moment later she's engulfed the whole of his cockhead and her downward journey continues. To Hazel it's like she's being impaled on a granite obelisk as her cunt lining stretches over his enormity like a second skin, like a living condom hugging every bump and ridge and throbbing vein of his magnificent manhood, until at last her weight rests on his body. She feels his dense, curly pubes are tickling her inner thighs; her aching pussy, utterly full, has achieved the impossible.

Only Hazel's competitors can truly appreciate the awesome scene now presented as the dainty brunette sits straight-backed atop the powerfully-built Nigerian. His huge quadriceps, baked black under the harsh African sun, are straddled by her creamy-white thighs, her puppy fat squashing around his mighty hip bones. With both their lower bodies still firmly restrained, still Osman finds sufficient freedom of movement to stir his dick gently inside the girl's buttery loins; in doing so he scratches an itch Hazel didn't even know she had, chipping away at her will to resist. But although the African may have some room for manoeuvre, his music student partner definitely doesn't. Hazel now understands why Jasmine resorted to dirty tactics - right now she'd do exactly the same, pull any devious, selfish trick she could think of just to get out of this fix! Indeed, if she doesn't come up with something soon, she could easily be leaving here with her academic career well and truly torpedoed.

It's time to move on to the next contestant; but Ursula's keeping one eye on Hazel now, conscious that this situation could escalate at any moment!

"Ok - that's one satisfied customer at least!" Ursula announces; "Let's keep it moving: Jasmine, your subject is... the Bible: according to the Genesis story, what did God create on the fourth day?"

The questions are getting trickier now, and even Jasmine is having to think hard before answering:

"The animals?" she eventually answers in a muted voice that sounds rather unconvinced.

"Oh, afraid not, it was the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. Never mind, it's about time the boys got a look at those luv-er-ly jubblies - Zack, take 'em away!"

Jasmine is forced to surrender her top, putting her best assets on public display: they are, of course, perfect. Even so, it's a relief to the others to find that there's actually something this girl doesn't know!

Another round is over, and by this stage it's becoming obvious to everyone who's going to walk off with the prize money. The other three players are just battling now to avoid picking up the "wooden spoon", and avoid being banged stupid in front of this whooping studio audience.

* * * *

As Ursula approaches Amanda at the start of round five, desperation is written all over the young woman's face. Her earlier confidence is beginning to crumble: she'd pictured herself sailing through this competition but now, for the first time, she is facing the very real possibility that her unwanted disciple could soon be paying tribute in her most sacred inner sanctum.

"Oh, why the hell did I ever come on this stupid show?" she wonders, like so many contestants before her. But there's scant sympathy from her inquisitor Ursula, who just pulls out another question card.

"Well, Amanda, still hanging in there? Remember, the stakes are high now, so try not to slip up at this stage - otherwise you might be slipping down onto something of Viktor's here!" The audience guffaw at another crass Ursula quip.

"And your subject is... mathematics!"

Amanda groans inside; maths was absolutely her weakest subject. Somehow they seemed to be finding all her weak spots tonight.

"If you roll two dice, what is the probability of rolling a seven?"

"Right," Amanda thinks, "I can work this out: six plus one, five plus two or a four plus three makes..."

"One in twelve!" she shouts suddenly, looking surprised at the volume of her own voice.

"Oooh no, I'm afraid not, it's actually one in six! " the host corrects her, "And we all know what that means, don't we folks ...?" she turns to the audience, raising her arms again:

"Lower away!!" the audience respond on cue.

An evil grin spreads across the Russian's angular face and he takes aim with his left hand. Amanda can't conceal her distress as the great ramrod draws closer and closer to her descending crotch; soon his glans is brushing through her blonde pubes. She flinches as the tip finds its mark, nuzzling between the loose flaps of her sex, then gasps as his bell end disappears up into her slot.

It's a tight, dry, uncomfortable fit and his broad gristle makes halting progress between her sensitive pussy walls, thick ridges and veins rubbing against tingling nerve endings. The classics student is sure this brute must be exploring parts of her body previously untouched by man; his colossal tool is constantly trying to bear left - a portent of the massive left turn her own budding career could soon take if she's not extremely careful!

Finally her lover's dark, wiry pubes crunch into her frothy blonde bush; his whole six kinked inches are now crammed within the confines of Amanda's sex: a loaded weapon pointed straight at her womb. His wide-splayed fingers encompass her pert, creamy buttocks, thumbs aligned along the hip bones, and Amanda realises that this complete stranger now quite literally holds her entire future in his hands. In all likelihood, the next twenty years of her life will be decided by what this man chooses to do in the next two minutes of his.

Meanwhile, young Felicity's attention is so focussed on her neighbours' troubles, she doesn't even realise the compere has moved up behind her until a microphone is rudely shoved under her nose.

"Well, Felicity, let's see if you can do any better!"

The girl takes a deep breath, trying to clear her mind ready to tackle the imminent challenge; she knows she mustn't mess up again.

"Here it is: how many months of the year have more than seven letters in their names?"

It's a stinker of a question! One camera zooms in for a close-up of Felicity's face, inviting the viewers to share in her uncertainty and anguish as her brain races to solve the problem. She's permitted no hiding place, every twitch of her facial muscles magnified for all to see while the ten-second countdown ticks remorselessly away in the background.

Just before her time expires, Felicity blurts out: "Uh, five - no four!"

"Oh! I'm sorry Felicity, four was right but I have to take your first answer! And that means that, once again, it's time to:"

"Lower away!" comes the chant.

Felicity looks down, and a slow-motion horror movie plays out beneath her. Her partner licks his lips as, inch by inch, she's lowered towards his quivering pole. Felicity shudders to think when he last washed that damn thing; she could well believe that her minge is about to provide its first decent clean in months!

His bulb meets her crotch bang on target, prodding against her mound at first before nudging apart the plump lips to ease inside. Felicity has spent the past year immersing herself in the subject of race relations but now, it seems, the tables are about to be turned! She tries tightening her pelvic muscles to thwart him, but his rock-hard babymaker just squeezes between, making her wince.

Soon Felicity's sitting squarely on his lap, his whole length firmly lodged up her. She manages to wrench her disgusted gaze from the junction of their sex organs and look the man in the eye: he appears perfectly calm, a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth while he relishes the feel of the tight, firm young body around him. Without warning, his erection suddenly gives a violent twitch between her walls; Felicity immediately shoots back a furious look that says: "Don't you dare!"

She can't possibly say anything out loud, of course: how would that look, an ethnic relations student complaining about being paired up with an immigrant! Felicity has always been proud of her commitment to bridging the racial divide. But soon she could be taking the ultimate step in the struggle for racial equality - by taking a foreigner's steaming spunk deep inside her unprotected sex! And like so many idealists before her, Felicity is discovering her feelings to be very different when it's her own arse on the line.

Thus Hazel, Amanda and Felicity all find themselves in identical peril, only too aware that just one false move could be enough to trigger their partner's climax and propelling a sticky load of baby-paste up their unprotected twats.

Of the trio, Hazel's situation is the most precarious. By the time Ursula returns to her stall, it's clear the music student is no longer in command of her senses: for the last few minutes, her Nigerian lover has been making good use of his limited pelvic mobility to rotate his broad gristle inside her overstrained passage. Hazel is unable to keep her composure in the face of such overwhelming sensation; flopped in her shackles she pants steadily, although through half-lidded eyes she does seem to acknowledge the host's presence - and that's good enough for Ursula.

"Hazel! Your next question is on: history. What was the name of the American pilot who first broke the sound barrier in October 1947?

Hazel starts to speak; but whether she's actually trying to answer the question - or is even aware of events around her - is unclear.

"Uuh," her lips tremble with the effort, "Urrrgggh - Jesus Christ! - OH!"

"Er... no, I'm afraid that's not the right answer Hazel, it was actually Chuck Yeager. So that means another forfeit - and you'd better be ready for some funky moves, because we're going to set Osman loose!"