Prize Or Penalty Irresistible

I have a very special dressing room table. To be precise, it is the chair that is special, being shaped like a saddle, and projecting up from the padded leather are two silicone dildos of formidable size. It's not a sex chair - or at least it's not primarily such - but it is, rather, a seat designed to ease my almost constant aching need to be filled both front and rear.

Indeed, I like to sit there with a skirt to conceal the obscene truth. I often wish the chair were really a saddle that I might never need to abandon its comforting penetration, but it is fixed firmly in place, at the dresser, where I must look at myself in the mirror within its ring of lights.

This is Ellie's gift to me, along with a multitude of lipsticks and pencils and blushers and so on, almost all in various shades of pink. If I am to sit there, she says, I must use my time wisely. In other words, I watch Youtube videos and perfect the art of applying make-up.

In all modesty, I'm getting rather good. I can do anything from pouting human to plastic Barbie. Tonight I'm aiming for somewhere in the middle. My long hair is recently bleached and lightly curled, my lips a gorgeous fuschia, and I've opted to go braless and uncorseted, wearing only the T-shirt with the logo "Prize Or Penalty". The material is stretched tight by my large breasts, and the outlines of my nipple shields are clearly visible.

These shields are cages that contain my nipples completely, and are held in place by barbells. Wearing them is the only way I've found to stop the constant itching and get some deep, proper sleep.

I struggle often to remember the woman I was before "Prize Or Penalty". Everything about me then was so ordinary. Ordinary appearance, ordinary sex drive, ordinary sex, ordinary clothes. The game show changed all that, transforming me into a woman with a bimbo body and a slut mind.

Which Ellie absolutely adores, and so do I. My family might still be in shock some six months later, but Ellie and I are more passionately in love than ever.

That was a great night for us.

So of course, when the TV company sent us free tickets for another show, we were delighted. We're going. Tonight's the night. The chances of either of us getting to the final are so small as to be negligible - lightning, they say, never strikes the same place twice - and the show is great fun to watch... so of course.

"Ready?" Ellie asks from the doorway.

"Just need my shoes," I say, and stretch out my feet for her. Obligingly she straps the neon pink sandals into place, and I ease up from my seat until the dildos spring free and the aching emptiness returns with a vengeance.

I quickly wipe the wet leather and the glistening dildos clean before bending over to let Ellie push my gold buttplug into place. I would love for her to push her hand into the other, but we have somewhere to be.

I stand and straighten my skirt. "Ready."

"Let's go."

But this is not my story.

*

"Copacabana!" Ellie shouted, just as the music crashed to a halt. She was high on adrenaline, breathing hard, and roasting under the heat of the spotlights. And somehow, amazingly, terrifyingly, she had made it to the final round, just as Vicki had done before.

"What if it happens again?" she'd asked her earlier.

"Then we'll make it work," Vicki had said. "No matter what."

And Ellie had nodded. "No matter what."

Except it

had

happened - not to Vicki this time, but to Ellie, and she was wholly unprepared. She had fought her way through the general knowledge rounds, deliberately not thinking about the consequences of actually winning, sure until the end that she would not, but -

Seven! If she played to the end, she was guaranteed two prizes! She'd be a millionaire! Ellie grinned and waved to where she thought Vicki was. The lights dazzled her.

"Well, Ellie," Charlie said, "you can walk away a winner now with this beautiful golden necklace" - he held it up to the audience, and they

ooh

ed and

ahh

ed appreciatively - "or you can risk all and play

Prize Or Penalty

..."

Still refusing to think about the consequences, her answer was quick. "I'll play, Charlie."

"You know the rules, Ellie," Charlie said, his grin as demonic as ever. "You scored seven in the last round, and that entitles you to seven 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: "

Strip! Strip! Strip!

"

Except she wasn't. A pair of shoes counted as one, as did a pair of socks and, naturally, a pair of trousers, and so on. "Um, I've only got seven on," she said, and blushed as the audience laughed. It was so different being the one surrounded by the cameras and the audience, the one facing Charlie. She much preferred watching the game to being its participant - and its victim.

There was a chance she could get all the prizes and none of the penalties, but what if... What if, like Vicki, she got all the penalties too? How would she be transformed? Was the risk of being turned into a bimbo - or worse - worth the chance at a few millions?

"Ten boxes, Ellie," 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, and Ellie shook her head after a moment's hesitation. Why had she fought to reach this point if she wasn't going to play?

"To open a box," Charlie said, following the script everyone knew off by heart, "you must surrender an item of clothing." As always, he winked lecherously at the camera. "So, are you ready, Ellie?"

"Yes, Charlie," she replied, the tension easing slightly now that the momentous decision was made.

"Excellent! Then let's play

Prize Or Penalty

!"

The audience fell silent as a drum rolled. "What item of clothing will you remove first, Ellie?"

"My jacket," she said, and handed it to Charlie.

"An independent adjudicator is responsible for selecting the five penalties and arranging them randomly," Charlie explained, "but let's hope you find a prize. In just a few minutes, Ellie, you could be going home a multi-millionaire! Choose your first box..."

"Number four, please, Charlie."

Ten gold boxes were arrayed behind her. Charlie fetched Number Four for her and opened it to reveal the test tube and card. The liquid was creamy in colour and consistency, so bitter her face twisted in response as she drank it down. She prayed for it to be a prize, but held her breath over the thought of her body's impending mutation.

Would it be her hair, her face, her breasts? Would she get the same

Itchy Nipples

that tormented Vicki so? No - but it wasn't a prize. Crestfallen, she showed the card to the camera: "Augmented Arches".

A murmur of sympathy issued from the audience, though there was some quiet laughter too. She remembered one of the past winners talking about this, how it reshaped the musculature of the feet and lower legs so that walking in anything other than high heels became acutely painful.

Ellie was no fan of high heels - at least, not on her own feet. She loved seeing Vicki strut about in heels, but rarely suffered more than a half-inch herself.

"You don't seem too thrilled by that," Charlie said, his attempt at sympathy ruined by the gleam of excitement in his eyes.

"No," she said.

"Well, better luck next time, Ellie. You do want to continue, don't you?"

"Yes, Charlie." Already her feet were protesting against the comfortable shoes she had come in, and she winced as she tugged them off and handed them over. "Nine, please, Charlie."

This time the liquid in the test tube was red, and she blinked in surprise as she swallowed it. Cherry flavoured. Slightly sweet. "Nice," she said, and laughed out of relief. Again a penalty, but not a bad one, really. Amused, she held up the card with a grin: "Clean Shave".

"No more Brazillians for you, I guess," Charlie said.

"No indeed," she agreed, not that she'd ever had one before. And Vicki certainly wouldn't complain. She wouldn't be getting hair in her mouth any more.

The third box, Number Eight in exchange for her socks, was a prize. "Yes!" she screamed as she showed the card to the camera. The sight of all those zeros was practically orgasmic - which might, she thought, explain the tingling in her crotch... She'd done it! What Vicki had failed to do.

"Congratulations, Ellie," Charlie said, beaming delightedly. "Will you quit now that you're ahead? Or will you see how many more prizes you can win?"

It was tempting to quit, but she wanted more. "I'll play, Charlie." Feeling more confident now, she unbuttoned her shirt and passed it over to Charlie, who made no effort to hide his appreciation of her breasts, scarcely concealed by her red lace bra. "Number Two, please."

The liquid was ominously black - not that the colour meant anything at all, but still. The taste was unpleasant too, sour, but Ellie drank it all and reached for the card.

Her eyes widened in shock, and Charlie had to take the card from her momentarily frozen fingers. "Wow, this is a first," he said, and held it up to the camera: "Tantalising Tail".

The audience gasped and there was murmuring all around as people speculated about the effects. Still in shock, Ellie explored her tail area with one hand, feeling an unfamiliar bump already. "What does it mean?" she asked.

"All will be revealed," he said, grinning, prompting laughter from all around. Ellie tried to find Vicki in the audience, but the shadows were too dark.

Shit! She was going to grow a tail! What it would look like?

"But don't worry," Charlie continued, soothingly. "There are four prizes left, and only two penalties. Shall we play on?"

Ellie squirmed uncomfortably in her seat as her budding tail struggled against her knickers, then with a sign of resignation she pulled down her trousers. "Number One, please, Charlie," she said, bereft of her earlier confidence.

She downed the test tube of clear liquid as if it were mere water, and plucked the card from its envelope. "No!" she cried, dropping the card as if it had bit her. She was such a fool for having come! She was a fool for not taking the million she'd won already! Why had she played on? Instinctively, uncaring about who watched, she pressed her fingers between her thighs, seeking out her clit through the surprisingly wet lace and pressing it in an effort to reassure herself.

The audience gave a great cheer as Charlie showed the card to the camera: "Chastity Belt".

This was the worst of all penalties. It wasn't a real chastity belt, of course. There was no confining belt of steel and rubber, but there might as well be. The mutation ensured that no amount of oral or penetrative sex could provoke orgasm. (Although rumour had it that orgasm was still possible, just not through vaginal or direct clitoral stimulation.) The chastity belt would make oral sex into an act of endless teasing.

"That really is the worst of luck," Charlie said, though he could scarcely have seemed more excited. "Not since your girlfriend Victoria has someone got four penalties." Obligingly, a camera and spotlight focused on Vicki, and Ellie saw her for the first time since this began. Her expression was one of dismay, and yet there was a flicker of amusement at the corner of her lips.

Charlie continued, "Of course, Victoria went one further and found the fifth and final penalty. Will you risk doing the same?"

Only the thought that it couldn't get any worse let her continue. "Number Ten," she said quietly, handing over her bra and exposing her breasts to the audience and the cameras.

A penalty again! The fifth and final: "Trigger Word". Not so terrible as the last, after all, and it occasioned murmuring and laughter from the audience as they all wondered which word would be the trigger.

"How sad," Charlie said, and actually seemed genuinely disappointed, "but at least we know your final box will be a prize. Will you remove the final item of clothing and choose a number?"

With obvious reluctance, Ellie surrendered her knickers amidst a tumble of pubic hair, and a camera zoomed in on the dark, short-haired tail that was finally free to twitch restlessly behind her. It was part of her. She could feel it, and see it, and the whole thought of it was ridiculous. How could she ever be taken seriously again as a business woman? The sight of it on the big screen, revealed to the whole world, made her burn with embarrassment, which only made her tail swish with greater agitation. "Ah, beautiful," Charlie said. "I'm told the hair will grow to nearly a metre in length."

"Seven," she said roughly, wanting it all over with, and Charlie brought over the box. The format demanded, however, that she drink the pale red fluid, and that the remaining boxes all be opened and their cards shown - all prizes - before Ellie was allowed to read the card in her chosen box. A prize again, of course.

It was a bittersweet victory, the millions hardly worth the penalty of chastity.

"Congratulations, Ellie," Charlie said. "You are a multimillionaire! And also, just for playing through to the end, you get a bonus prize." He handed her a pair of black high-heeled stilettos with straps and thick platforms that glittered with rhinestones. Exactly the sort of shoes that Ellie previously wouldn't have been caught dead in.

Her reluctance to wear them dissipated the moment she tried to stand. With a cry of surprised pain, she slid back onto the seat she had been perched on, and slipped her feet into the stripper heels with a scowl of fury.

Charlie chuckled, and as she stood again and walked awkwardly towards the exit, he called after, "Don't worry. They'll make you irresistible."

It was like a violin string being plucked. In five short syllables she was wound to the point of orgasm, and thrown over the precipice. She closed her eyes and swayed dangerously on her insanely high heels, her body vibrating in the aftermath of that too abrupt climax. Laughter rippled through the audience as they realised he had spoken her trigger word.

*

In the dressing room, alone, clothed only in her ridiculous heels and a brand new "Prize Or Penalty" T-shirt that did little to conceal her now bald pussy and nothing to conceal her twitchy tail, Ellie burst into tears. It wasn't the shoes that were absurd, it was her. Her feet forced her to tiptoe, she had a tail, for fuck's sake, and she had less control over her own orgasms than a random stranger.

"Irresistible," she said to her reflection, but there was only a shiver of response. No, it needed to be someone else - anyone else - saying it to her. Even fucking Charlie was able to make her come, the evil bastard. But Ellie herself couldn't. She tried to bring herself off with her fingertips, but couldn't quite achieve climax. "Fuck!" she screamed, and burst into tears again.

Then Vicki was there, holding her, soothing her. "Hey, it's not so bad, don't cry," she said. "You'll adjust, just as I did." She kissed her softly. "And I'll be there for you,just as you were there for me. Besides, think of all the money you won."

Ellie laughed through her tears. "I'd give it all up just to get rid of this tail and belt. I never should have played this stupid game."

"But you did, just as I did, and it has changed us both. So what if I look like a bimbo and you look like a pony girl?"

Ellie sighed. "If it was just that... but it's the trigger I really hate. What if everyone starts telling me how irresistible I am, just so they can reduce me to some joke of a sex toy?"

Vicki kissed her again, a gentle, lingering kiss. "That's really not what you should be worried about right now. You should be worrying about how you can persuade me to say it."

"Oh, you wouldn't..."

"I absolutely would. If you want orgasms, you're going to have to ask me very nicely indeed."

Ellie glowered at her. "Not fair."

"No," agreed Vicki with a laugh. "But let's try it for the next six months. Okay?"

"Okay," she muttered. "Can we go home now?"

"We absolutely can. Hmm, I guess you won't be wearing trousers ever again..."

*

Ellie left the studio with Vicki, determined to find some way to regain control of her life, but the heels forced her to walk slowly and take short steps, all the while acutely conscious of just how little she was wearing. Acutely conscious of her tail too, and the way the studio's staff were all watching her. The taxi driver kept peeking back at her too.

Usually it was Vicki who got all the attention. She loved watching people stare at Vicki. Having them watch her instead was unsettling. As if she had transformed into a public sex object - and in a way she had. Anyone who watched the show would know the not-so-secret word that would make her come on command. The thought both terrified her and - bafflingly - excited her.

Not helped at all by Vicki's fingers caressing her inner thigh. Between that and the taxi's vibrations, her clit was throbbing with need by the time they reached home. Inside, she raced to the bedroom and grabbed the wand, pressing it against her clit and letting the vibrations drive her close... close... close...

"Fuck!" she screamed, throwing it away in exasperation. "I'm fucked."

"Not yet," Vicki said. She was naked and wearing the black strap-on that Ellie often used on her. Ellie groaned with frustration, but lay back and parted her legs. The feeling of cool air against her wet, bare pussy was strange, especially given the heat within. The feeling of the silicone cock thrusting into her - and easily, despite it having a girth she was not at all accustomed to - was sublime, however.

"Oh yes," she sighed. "Do me. Hard!" Vicki's huge breasts bounced gorgeously above her as the dildo's full, astonishing length hammered into her. "Oh this is so good," she said, "so very good. Why did we never do this before... So good."

But it wasn't enough! Even with the fingers of one hand working her clit, and her other hand pinching her nipples desperately, she couldn't reach the end. "Say it, Vicki!" she cried. "Just say the fucking word!"

"Do you promise?"

"What?"

Vicki paused her thrusting. "Do you promise to obey me for the next six months?"

"Yes! Fuck! I promise! Just say the fucking word!"

Vicki resumed her fucking, grinning down at Ellie as if she had decided just to torture her with sex. "Please, Vicki," Ellie whined. "Make me come."

"Ah, Ellie, when you look at me like that, you're truly irresistible."

"Yes!" Ellie cried. "Yes! Again! Just keep saying it!" All the tension that had built over the hour or so since her name was called finally found a release. "Yes!" she cried again as Vicki chanted the same five syllable word over and over in time with the thrusting of her black strap-on cock.