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
ooh
ed and
ahh
ed 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.
