Loose Lips Sink Pix & Lovely Locks

Not even in Pixie's worst nightmares had she imagined the horror of watching two bars grow across the screen near identically...

W-w-wait...

Every time Loose Lips Sink Pix would gain a vote, Lovely Locks would jump to meet it, the two bars eking up in lockstep, as though the audience was keeping them deliberately joined together. The longer the bars grew, the more votes piled in, the more Pixie tried desperately to convince herself that they would separate - but they didn't...

“S-s-stop!” Pixie couldn't contain her panic; what started as a futile plea to the bars themselves to stop growing quickly morphed into an indignant scowl as she wheeled around to the sea of shadowy faces.

“What are you doing?!” the naked girl yelped, clutching her towel, her already frayed nerves twisting her despairing gasping plea into a cry of accusation. Pixie bounced, vexed, on her cushion and stared out into tiered mass of shades, her gaze flitting wildly from one silhouetted figure to the next. Unable to discern any features amongst them, she found herself regarding the audience instead as though it were a single malicious entity - like she was a naked sacrifice to a monster with a thousand heads.

“S-stop!”

The bars continued to climb together and Rule 8 hung over her like a cloud. Pixie hadn’t expected it to happen, she hadn’t considered that it was even really possible. With all of the madness and humiliation she was facing she had, on some level, at least consoled herself that a tie would be so improbable that it might as well have been impossible. Unless the audience decided to make it possible.

They’re cheating… somehow… colluding… t-t-they have to be?!

The two bars grew unstoppably… 20 votes each… 30… The tie never breaking…

"This isn't funny! It's not fair!" Pixie's mind began filling with images of herself, of her life, getting both transformations because of manipulation ... a technicality... Her lips forever swollen and begging for cock, her hair a controlling pink parasite she could never escape...

Pixie squirmed apprehensively in place, panic gripping her throat, “S-stop it!!”

She felt cheated, and yet her ears burned knowing there was nothing in the rules to actually protect her. She was powerless.

Stop making it a tie! I can’t get two changes! I can’t! It's not fair!

“Now Pixie, you’re not trying to tell the audience what to do are you?” Jack laughed but the menacing edge to his voice sharpened, stopping Pixie's thoughts dead. She felt the ice cold threat claw up her bare back again; her pointed toes curled involuntarily beneath her ass and her wet hair clung even colder against her shoulder.

… Accusing the audience of cheating isn't going to make them like you, idiot...

Pixie swallowed, trying to backtrack, “N-no, I just… t-t-they’re voting… uh...”

She bit her tongue to stop herself, **** not to finish the sentence she knew she never should’ve started - ‘They’re voting for a tie. They’re not meant to vote for a tie!’

“You should be grateful!” Jack’s smile widened into a vicious, mocking, grin as she felt an uncomfortable disapproving pressure from the crowd. To escape the ire of the audience, Pixie couldn’t help but glance to Jack instead, watching his pupils darken like a predator as their eyes locked and she felt his cock slowly pushing into her defenceless pussy. Her already arched back went rigid, her lips parting in a silent gasp as her body flooded in equal parts pleasure and terror. Oh god.

“You didn't want to be in control, and your audience want to be entertained… they want to be aroused… do you think they want to be chastised by you? Berated? To be demeaned or accused of orchestrating a tie result as though that was some kind of crime?”

But it's being manipulated!

Pixie heard disquieting murmurs from the crowd, their voyeuristic glee replaced with judgemental malice as the two bars climbed even higher...

…45 votes… 46… 47…

“Their votes are their votes and they are free to cast them anyway they want…”

Jack’s dick didn’t move; it just stayed there, like rigid iron, pinning Pixie in place as she stifled a despairing moan. But they’re ruining my life!

“There’s nothing in the rules to stop them from colluding on two results, or three, or even all five…” Jack snarled menacingly, his jaw snapping shut.

Pixie whimpered breathlessly in response. Please no.

... 50 votes... 51... 52... 53...

“S-sorry… I’m Ss-sorry… I didn’t mean…”

Pixie's frantic apology was cut short as the ethereal orgasmic moans of the buzzer erupted in mocking ecstasy. The vote was over. The crowd's rapturous enthusiasm roared back, confetti and pink smoke rained across the screen and Pixie could only stare at the result in numb disbelief.

No!

Jack spun on his heel to face the audience, his grin warping back to his usual slick beaming smile as Pixie felt his dick disappear from her again, the spell broken.

“Times up! Voting is over!” he called above the applause, “Thank you audience! And wow wow wow wow wow – what a vote this has been!”

From across the set Chrissi giggled, her fixed smile almost cartoonish with glee, as she draped herself against the side of the giant display. The words across it burned into Pixie’s psyche:

Loose Lips Sink Pix + Lovely Locks

Jack slapped his cards with excitement, “With exactly 28.08% of the vote each, Loose Lips Sink Pix and Lovely Locks are our winners! Looks like someone's gotten an extra Double Up before even finding the box! How greedy! How are you feeling Pixie?”

The kneeling girl could hardly speak, “P-p-please don’t do this…”

“It’s already done! My hands are tied…” Jack made a sardonic gesture with a nod towards the crowd, “… and with your new hair, I think you’ll soon find out exactly how that feels!”

Pixie swallowed, the blood rushing through her ears did nothing to drown out the audience's laughter. Instead she tried to cover her mouth and clasp at her wet hair in some final **** attempt to protect herself. Her eyes fixed to her brunette locks, trying to commit the sight to memory, knowing she was never going to see it again...

“Okay – let’s go ahead and apply those changes now!”

Pixie couldn’t get her final begging protest out before the numbing dizziness hit her. Without a mirror Pixie couldn’t see what was happening but she felt it.

Her lips swelled with pillowy heat, parting themselves as their pouting size made it rapidly impossible for her to keep her mouth clamped shut like she was used to. Experimentally, she licked across her lips, only to have to stifle a trembling little mewl as sparks of unwanted pleasure radiated into her mind. She tried to resist it – to stop it, but she was a passenger inside her own head and could only kneel in naked horror feeling her mouth relaxing into a smile she couldn't control.

Her despair was only compounded as, at the same time, her scalp started to fizz with an effervescence that cascaded down from her head in waves. The hair she was clutching started to change in her fingers - shifting like it was alive, coiling and lengthening impossibly, its weight increasing as it became more and more saturated with colour, it's growing mass pooling around her kneeling body. Any hope Pixie had that she could maintain a natural hair colour was shattered almost instantly as she watched her hair brighten through red, into purple before finally turning a humiliating cartoonish pink.

No no no no no! I'm a freak! I'm a freak!!

Curtains of pink draped her, pouring down her bare back and pooling around her ass and feet. Pixie went to speak; only to stop with a moan between her sensitive lips when, unnervingly, she felt her new hair begin to move.

It started subtly; her hair stirring like it was being blown by some impossible wind. But the **** grew, the pink locks in her fingers starting to fight their way free of her grip with ever increasing strength. For a futile minute she tried to stop it, but it was hopeless and instead the naked girl froze with a defeated whimper, holding herself still, feeling her own hair moving across her like a python. It pulled back and wove itself into a mortifying high ponytail that was almost cartoonishly long.

Daring to slowly tip her head experimentally only made the naked girl’s distress worse as she got the distinct impression that her hair wasn’t actually responding to gravity, it was pretending. Worse, Pixie quickly felt the other end of her bubble-gum ponytail begin to curl against her bare feet before it unceremoniously started wrapping itself around her ankles. The pink mass’ grip quickly tightened, tying her ankles together, holding her bare feet perfectly in place beneath her.

On instinct she licked her lips again; the unwanted flush of tingly pleasure only seemed to encourage her hair to wrap her ankles even tighter. Pixie felt her nipples straining beneath the towel, cursing her own body as unwanted arousal surged through her.

Her cheeks burned under the lustful gaze of the audience, knowing she was kneeling nude and bound before them. A pink haired, slut-lipped, blow job dispenser…

“Wow! Now that’s a change!” Jack quipped, “Someone is definitely well on her way to becoming a bimbo! Are you excited Pixie?”

The naked girl blinked back another sob of shame through her **** smile, not daring to answer.

“Well you certainly look pleased!”

The audience roared with laughter again.

“Now there’s just time for us to find out if Pixie’s newest symptoms are going to be retroactive or not… winning jurors?” Jack turned back to the board and through the glaze of tears in her eyes Pixie watched as her humiliation was completed:

‘Not Retroactive’

No!

“Well it sure sounds like Pixie's succubus syndrome is set to get seriously salacious… Let's see how that plays out as we take these messages from our sponsors!”

Pixie whimpered, her panic rising as she realised Jack was about to send her back again. Knowing she would have to face her life again with these mortifying changes. She squirmed on her cushion, her bare feet rubbing together as she fought uselessly to free her ankles, her eyes widening – Please no, you can't... not like this! Not like t-!