Back to the Studio

Applause.

Music.

“And we’re back!”

Pixie moaned, dizzying shame rocking her body as she felt herself sink with a soft peep into her cushioned mat on the floor of the studio. It was over… she was back here… again… to her growing anxious distress Pixie didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Being here meant she didn’t have to deal with the fallout…

Pixie shifted in her kneeling position, glancing down at herself and realising her clothes had stayed the same. She had half expected to return here and be back in her pyjamas, but she wasn’t, she was dressed in the light capris and flowing sleeveless top she'd been wearing in Greece. Mercifully too, she was at least now wearing a bra, panties, slip-on shoes... and her contacts!

“Welcome back to Bimbo or Billionaire, where our contestant Pixie here is looking to open her second box! Now, it looks like Pixie had her fill of Greek yoghurt in the break! How was it Pixie?”

The comment made her feel sick. Pixie lifted her head in humiliated anger, “May I service you with my mouth?”

The words escaped before she could stop them and Pixie recoiled from herself, horrified. Not again! Please not again!

The audience exploded with wolf-whistles, giggles and cheers, while Jack slapped his thigh.

“Still hungry huh? Maybe after the show…”

Oh god. Oh god. Every time?! Is that going to happen every time they bring me back here?

Pixie felt the compulsion ease, her voice her own to control again.

“Alright, Pixie, are you ready to open your second box?”

“No” The kneeling girl declared flatly, shaking her head as her anger boiled over, “I won’t do it! You skipped four weeks of my life! Stole them from me! … you made me… made me…”

She couldn’t even bring herself to say the words but she could still taste him on her lips and tongue, she could still feel it in her stomach – a belly full of Andy’s hot sticky cum.

“Now now Pixie, you know how the game is played,” Jack coaxed, his eyes flicking between her and audience, “which box next?”

“I said No! Fuck you! I won't do it!”

There was an awkward beat of silence. Someone in the audience booed.

Jack strode towards her, his expression darkening. His gameshow host smile faltered for a moment and Pixie found her eyes drawn to him in fear. The world around them seemed to go dim, distant, time slowed – like the lights had faded and the air had been sucked from the room, the audience suddenly sounded like they were on the other side of a wall. The host loomed over her menacingly, a great shadow of power – suddenly looking so vast and incomprehensibly dominant that nothing else in the room mattered. From her position on her knees, Pixie whimpered, feeling cold and hot at the same time as a wave of loneliness and dread flooded her.

“I…”

“You are going to pick a second box – and then a third, and a fourth… and you’re going to keep picking boxes until you’ve satisfied your audience” It wasn’t a command. It was truth. Cold, iron-clad, impossible to deny and it made Pixie’s heart stop for a moment in terror. “You did this to yourself”

Pixie whimpered.

“You didn’t care when you did it to Zoe, to Jessica, to Lucy, to Alexa, to Bianca and Pamela...”

“They’re not…” Pixie tried weakly, she was floundering.

“Real?” Jack grinned like a shark sensing blood, “You put a piece of yourself into all of them... But I guess protesting is part of the thrill hmm? Makes you feel less guilty that this turns you on so much?”

Pixie opened her mouth to deny it, her cheeks burning red, but the words wouldn’t come out.

He leaned over her sinisterly, the shadows on his face growing as he growled, “Pick a box”

“I…”

“Now”

“T-t-twelve” Pixie gasped quietly.

The world around them rushed back into focus. The lights, the audience, the stupid music and bright pink colours… like a switch had been flicked, Jack returned to the jovial gameshow host he had been before. The cartoonish façade snapped back into place.

“Chrissi, could you open box number twelve for Pixie please sugar?”

“Like, I totally can Jacky!” The blonde bounced excitedly down the line, her dress twinkling in the light.

Pixie shrunk back, swallowing down her panic despondently. Please… just be cash… just be cash…

Chrissi opened the box, revealing the icon of a cloth bag. It took the kneeling girl a couple of seconds to work out what it meant, was this good or bad? What did the bag mean again…?

Cloth Bag: A grab bag of Mind or Body changes.

“It’s ‘Grab Bag’ time!” Jack announced to another round of excited applause, “That’s any physical or mental transformations for Pixie – change her body, or change her mind… or both!” Pixie let out a distressed squeak as once again, Jack turned to the silhouettes on the board, “Ok Jurors, show me those changes!”