Game Show

Game Show

The Game Show

The near future…

You luxuriate in the stylist’s chair, enjoying the feeling of being pampered as the stylist gently brushes your long blonde hair until it falls in a gleaming cascade to the middle of your back. Your face is already impeccably made-up; under the garish makeup cape you’re wearing a very skimpy white bikini, and white high heels adorn your dainty feet. You feel a bit uneasy appearing on national TV so scantily-clad; but you realize with some pride that you have a killer bod—certainly you have nothing to be ashamed of.

This is Chrissie’s doing, you think to yourself. She’d said to you, “I’ve got a great idea, Kelli! We can get the money we need on that new show, ‘How Far Will You Go’. I hear they’re auditioning contestants this afternoon!”

“I don’t know…” you’d replied. “I hear they do some pretty nasty things on that show…”

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“Oh, c’mon, Kel! We really need the dough! Rent’s almost due and we’re flat broke! Look, we’ll flip a coin. The winner gets to be the Contestant, and the loser has to be the Target. Okay?”

You’d only seen the show once before. A pair of contestants teamed up; one would attempt to answer questions, and the other would suffer every time the answer was wrong. It was wildly popular. You certainly don’t want to be abused on national TV, but Chrissie’s right—you both need the money. So you watched as Chrissie flipped a coin and you’d called out, “Heads!” To your dismay it came up Tails—you’re the Target!

And so you find yourself being groomed like some prize animal, in preparation for your “debut”. You glance over at Chrissie in irritation; she’s being groomed, too, but at least she gets to wear a pretty floral-print dress. If only you’d won that coin toss! you agonize to yourself. But it’s too late to reconsider; the assistant director bustles in and pulls you both from the stylist’s chairs, yanks off the makeup capes, gives you a quick but thorough inspection, and ushers you both toward the stage.

Chrissie waits in the wings until she’s introduced; Kelli is led to a sturdy metal rack in the center of the stage and is fastened to it tightly, spread-eagled, by the assistant director. “Do my legs have to be so far apart?” you whine. “It’s TV, Babe! Roll with it!” the assistant director chirps. And looking quickly around to see if anyone’s watching, he helps himself to a quick feel. You’re utterly shocked as this creep squeezes and fondles your left breast! You pull hard on your pinioned wrists and ankles; you’re completely secured, helpless. You glare at him as he backs away, a smug smirk on his face.

Second thoughts roil in your mind Do I really need the money that badly? I don’t want to be humiliated on national TV! But it’s too late; the crowd roars as the host, Gary Nash, is introduced. He warms up the audience with a few lame jokes, and then you hear, “Well, it’s time to meet today’s Target. Let’s hear a warm round of applause for Kelli!” The curtains part and you’re revealed to the crowd. The bright stage lights blind you temporarily, but they don’t interfere with your hearing—you hear every wolf-whistle and catcall as the audience explodes into applause. You blush deeply, humiliated. You barely resist an urge to hide your face by flipping your long blonde hair in front of it, and you even manage a weak, frightened smile as the host approaches you and engages in what he thinks is witty banter. You reply mechanically, but his words don’t really register. Then he turns and introduces Chrissie, who strides onto the stage to receive a phony peck on the cheek from Gary Nash. They converse a while, but you’re zoned out until you hear Nash say, “And now, let’s play our game!

The music swells as he leads Chrissie into position. You, being fastened in place, don’t move anywhere.

“Okay, you both know the rules. We ask Chrissie here questions, and the team receives money for every correct answer. But for every wrong answer, Kelli pays the penalty. Here we go, then. First round. Gentlemen, bring out the Wheel of Fun!” On cue, two burly body-builders in black stretch tights and executioner’s hoods roll out the large, ornate roulette wheel. Nash turns to Chrissie. “Each of these questions is worth $100.00.” Chrissie’s eyes get wider and practically shine with greed. “First question: What popular movie featured the first appearances of such popular characters as Han Solo and Luke Skywalker?”

Easy money! you think to yourself as your heart thrills. We watched that movie just last night!

“Ummmm……’Star Trek’?” Chrissie mumbles. Your face falls in shock. “You stupid bitch!” you call out. “Now, now, Kelli, this is a family show,” Gary admonishes you.The audience laughs at this. “Well, girls, you missed the question so it’s time to spin the Wheel! Chrissie, would you do the honors?” Chrissie walks over to the wheel and before spinning it looks you in the eyes and smirks, “Sorry, Kel…” You begin to get worried…why is she smirking like that?

Chrissie spins the Wheel of Fun hard, and the slots tick past the pointer as the audience members shout out their favorites. The tension mounts, then the wheel stops on…”Ice Maiden”. What’s THAT? you think to yourself. You find out soon enough. The “Executioners” come back on stage carrying two huge barrels of iced water and proceed to dump both over your head! You shriek in discomfort as the freezing water soaks your hair and body. Shaking uncontrollably, unable to toss the sopping-wet mane out of your eyes, you watch helplessly as your frozen nipples harden and poke through the thin fabric of your bikini top. You burn with the shame of your body’s unwilled response. The audience roars with laughter.

No rest for the weary, though. Through your icy misery you see Chrissie standing back at her podium as Gary asks her the next question, which to your relief she gets right. Two more correct answers follow—you’ve won $300.00! You begin to think that maybe you were wrong about Chrissie. And then…

Another wrong answer to another easy question! This time Chrissie says nothing, just smiles evilly at you as she spins the wheel.

“Nudie Cutie!” the audience roars as the Wheel stops on that slot. “Nudie Cutie!” Gary repeats. “And you all know what that means…it’s Lottery Time! Heather?”

One of the show’s spokes-bimbos rolls out a large goldfish bowl and selects a ping-pong ball at random. “Seat Number 73!” she squeaks. A hugely fat and grandly-ugly man with long, greasy hair and thick black-rimmed glasses rises from his seat with obvious joy. He waddles on stage and shakes Gary’s hand with enthusiasm. They talk for a while, and then the canned music begins. They’re playing “The Stripper”! And the fat man is approaching you with a glint in his eyes! You begin to sputter obscenities, but no one seems to be paying attention; besides, the music mostly drowns you out anyway. Taking position behind you, so close you can feel his rancid hot breath on the back of your neck, he proceeds to stroke your helpless body. His fingers trace paths down your sides, and up, and run small circles around your nipples, and then he slips a hand inside your still-damp bikini bottom and fingers your pussy! You shudder with total revulsion as he grasps your clit and twists it, becoming aroused in spite of yourself. Then you feel a dampness on your ass. You realize that this creep has just come in his pants as he pressed against your body! You twist and shriek furiously, startling the behemoth. Embarrassed at having come, he quickly cuts off your bikini and clutching it to his huge chest he runs off stage, leaving you completely bare-assed on national TV! This time you do try to flip your hair in front of your face, but it’s still so wet that only a few strands attach themselves to your cheeks. The audience goes wild, seeing you nude.

The game resumes; you’re now barely aware of it, fearing what comes next. Chrissie gets three more right answers, then blows another easy question. You begin to wonder again whether Chrissie is missing on purpose to see what will happen to you. Again the Wheel is spun.

“SPANK THE BABY”! the crowd yells. And to your horror one of the “executioners” comes out on stage and shoves a huge pacifier into your mouth, strapping it into place, effectively gagging you. Then he moves around behind you and with his large callused hand begins smacking your defenseless bottom! You yell out in pain as the audience shouts with each swat. “One!…Two!…Three!…” He spanks you forever, it seems, and the cameras move around behind you to record your now cherry-red ass and then turn their focus on your tear-stained face. You hang in your ropes, totally defeated. The executioner removes your pacifier-gag and leaves you there, sobbing.

Another question; another wrong answer. Your heart quakes as the damned Wheel spins again and lands on…”Cheap Fuck”! “No…” you murmur pitifully as the goldfish bowl selects Number 12, and you watch with fading hope as a short man who resembles Danny DeVito walks on stage.

“Well, Sir, what’s your name?” Gary asks.

“George,” the man replies nasally.

“Well, George, you know the rules. You get to fuck this hot young babe here in front of everyone, but it’s gonna cost ya’. You got two bucks, George?”

“Sure!” George blurts and produces a couple of grimy one-dollar bills and hands them to the host.

“Go to it, man!”

As George approaches you the rack you’re tied on pivots silently into a horizontal position, and you’re left spread-eagled on your back, with your wide-open naked pussy gaping at the audience! They howl in delight; all you can do is hang there in despair as George mounts you! He shoves his stubby little cock in you and begins pumping frantically. Stubby he may be, but unfortunately for you he has tremendous staying power; he fucks your supine form for fifteen minutes before he shoots his massive load in you, and departs with a wide grin. The cameras focus in on your pussy as some of his come oozes out and plops on the floor beneath you. The rack then shifts you back into an upright position.

“Well, we’ve got to take a break now, and we’ll clean Kelli up some. Stay tuned, folks, the Wheel of Humiliations is next, and the cash values really mount!”

“And we’re CLEAR!” shouts the director as the host doffs his affable routine and storms off stage to have his make-up touched up. A team approaches you and begins towel-drying your body and blow-drying your hair. They also wipe your come-filled pussy clean. Chrissie sidles up to you.

“It’s going pretty well, don’t you think? We’ve won $600.00 so far!”

You gaze down at her. “Chrissie…please….make them stop…this is a nightmare…”

“Oh, Kelli, don’t be such a wimp! I won’t miss another question, I promise!”

You just hang there. You hear them rolling out the Wheel of Humiliations; you’re too frightened to look.

“Well, it’s time for Round Two—the Wheel of Humiliations! Each question in this round is worth five-hundred-DOLLARS! But—but—remember this—the penalties are much, much stiffer! Do you want to continue?”

“Yes!” chirps Chrissie.

“God, NO!” you yell.

“We seem to have a little dissention in the ranks!” Gary intones. “As usual, according to our rules we must accept the choice of the Team Captain, which in this case is Chrissie! On we go!” The audience cheers wildly as you hang in your ropes, defeated.

“Question One: Who starred in the movies ‘Risky Business’ and ‘Mission: Impossible’?”

“Errr…Tom Hanks?” Chrissie guesses.

“No, I’m sorry…that was Tom CRUISE…Time to spin that Wheel!”

You look on fearfully as the Wheel spins and lands on…PONY GIRL. You don’t even try to guess what they’re going to do to you now. You watch, resigned, as two men and two women dash out dressed as jockeys. The two men are rolling out what appears to be a treadmill, and the women’s hands are full of various items, all of which bode ill for you. The two men untie your feet, roll the treadmill underneath you, remove your shoes, and place your feet on the wide rubberized strip (your hands remain bound, spread, above you). The women begin brushing your long blonde hair into a pony tail and fasten it tightly atop your head with a rubber band. One man grabs your nipples and begins teasing them into erection. You writhe in embarassment. The other man then fastens clamps to each of your nipples and attaches them with a chain to the front bar of the treadmill. You holler with the pain as your tender budlike nipples are savaged.

“My. my, such a fuss,” Gary oozes. “We’ll have to put a stop to that. Ladies?” On cue the two female “jockeys” descend on you. One grabs your pony tail and yanks your head upright, straining your neck. The other forces a rubber bit-gag into your mouth and tightens it into place with the attached straps. Your jaws are jacked apart by the cruel rubber-coated metal bar, and your face aches from the tightness of the gag-straps. To your consternation you begin to drool uncontrollably. Then the jockeys depart. You hear the famous post music play, then Gary shouts, “They’re OFF!” The motorized rubber strip you’re standing on begins to move, catching you by surprise; you feel the tension in your nipples dangerously increase, and you begin to stride forward to ease the pressure. You don’t want your nipples yanked off! You settle into an easy stride…

“That’s a walk, Kelli,” Gary says, leaning his arms on the treadmill’s side rail and looking lustfully at you. “Should we try a trot?” And winking at the audience he reaches over and twists a control knob on the machine; the belt begins spinning faster! You struggle in the beginning, but soon you’ve got the rhythm; it’s just an easy jog for you…your tanned, athletic legs are more than up to the challenge. Gary watches you for a while…then he looks at you and says, “Mmmmmh Hmmmmm…..Canter!” And he twists the knob again! The speed increases! You’re keeping up, but it’s not as easy now…Your tits and pony-tailed hair bounce in perfect counterpoint as your powerful legs try to prevent your nipples from being ripped off. You begin to snort from your nose…flecks of foam appear on the corners of your mouth…Gary is ecstatic. “Look at that, Folks! She’s becoming more pony-like every second! How fast do you think our little pony can go? Should we try a gallop?”

“Yeahhh!!!!” the audience shouts as one.

You look on in terror as Gary reaches for the knob and gives it one final twist…to GALLOP! Your nipples stretch as the belt begins moving blurringly fast…your bare feet pound on the rubberized strip as you race forward…your mind focussed on keeping up the hellish pace set by your mechanical master…you know you can’t keep this up for long…

“We’ll be back after this commercial break,” Gary states. But there’s no break for you…you run madly. When the program resumes four minutes later you’re glistening with sweat, absolutely exhausted. Gary says, “Let’s hear it for our pony girl Kelli! Time to give her a rest.” And he gradually reduces the belt’s speed until you’re walking again…panting heavily into your gag…

The game resumes as you continue to plod ahead. Chrissie gets two right answers…a thousand bucks! At least it’s finally becoming worth it, you think wearily. Then another wrong answer…another spin…CUT THE MANE!

“Ooooo, it’s time to cut the race horse’s mane! But we’ll need a volunteer!” Gary shouts. “It’s Lottery Time! Heather?” And Heather draws Number One. The fattest man you ever saw in your life heaves himself on stage. He easily weighs 400 pounds! As he laboriously makes his way across the stage Gary turns to you. “You know, race horses don’t need long manes like that…you’ll probably perform better without it.” Tears stream down your face as you contemplate the loss of your long, golden hair…you’re completely powerless to stop it…you just keep plodding forward, step by step, as the treadmill forces you to continue moving. Finally the fat man reaches you and takes the scissors Gary holds out for him. He wedges himself near you and looks down on your naked form with lust. He’s never touched a woman as beautiful as you before, but now he can do anything he likes to you, and you can’t stop him! He reaches across the side rail, grabs your long blonde pony-tail in his clammy hand and pulls your head toward him. He lays the wicked-looking scissors at the base of the pony-tail, as close to the scalp as he can manage, and begins cutting! You hear the snick, snick of the shears as they crunch through your locks—your crowning glory is being taken from you! It took you five years to grow your hair that long, and this fat slob has stolen it from you in seconds! You weep as the scissors complete their hateful task. Your now close-cropped hair, freed from the rubber band’s bondage, flops down on your head…your hair’s as short as a boy’s!

The fat man holds your gleaming hair aloft in triumph, then Gary holds out a plastic bag for him and he puts your sheared locks inside. “We’re going to let you take this home, Sir, after the show. But we’ll leave it here for a little while so everyone can enjoy its beauty.” And he hangs your hair, encased in the plastic bag, on a hook in front of you, so you can see it. You squirm in humiliation.

The game resumes. One good thing: They stop the treadmill, and remove it from the stage. They free your sore nipples from their clamps, and resecure your feet to the rack. They also leave the bridle in. Chrissie gets most of the questions right, but at the next wrong answer you get a mohawk! The fat man who acted as your barber before does the honors again; he takes clippers and shears the short flaxen down from both sides of your head until all that’s left is a rectangular patch of bristly blonde hair right down the middle! You feel utterly ridiculous; even BALDNESS would be better than this!

At the next wrong answer you get your wish. BALD BABE comes up on the wheel! Your own personal barber assaults you again, this time removing all traces of hair from your head, first with the clippers and then with shaving cream and a straight razor! Even your eyebrows are removed! You sob into your gag as you realize that you are now a FORMER blonde! And then an electrolycist comes in and kills your hair roots—you’re now PERMANENTLY BALD! You struggle frantically to prevent your life-long depilation; but you’re bound too well. You glare silently at Chrissie; this is her fault. I will kill her when this is over, you think. I will end her life.

But it isn’t over yet, and part of you believes that maybe it never will be. The Wheel next lands on SHEAR THE SHAG, and your beautiful pussy hair is shaved away. The fat man, again. He’s certainly getting HIS money’s worth, you think to yourself as he strokes your abundant bush one last time before clippering it away. Then you’re lathered up again, and the straight razor scrapes away the pussy stubble, leaving you as naked as a young girl.

“Guess we’re not going to be seeing you in any shampoo commercials soon, eh, Kelli?” Gary, ever the smart-ass, says. You glare at him impotently.

The game goes on. Chrissie is on a roll, and racks up total winnings of $5300. You wonder if it’s worth it. Then she gets another question wrong…..ticktickticktick goes the Wheel as it spins, and lands on HOOVER GIRL. “God, what’s that?” you ask yourself.

“HOOVER GIRL!” shrieks Gary. “And you all know what THAT means! Attilla! Come on out!” An immensely muscled young man comes out with a chastity belt locked around his genitals. The audience begins shouting, “A-TTILL-A!!! A-TTILL-A!!!”. Two evening-gowned bimbos come out and unlock Attilla’s iron prison…You gasp as you see the most immense penis you’ve ever seen in your life! You fearfully wonder what they plan…

Your rack once again begins to pivot, leaving you horizontally suspended face down. Attilla positions himself in front of you. You raise your head and are stunned to see him already erect…the head of his penis, just the head, has a diameter of almost three inches. Gary insinuates himself again. “Now be a good little Hoover Girl and SUCK-HIM-DRY!!!”

The audience begins to chant, “Suck…suck…suck…” You clamp your mouth shut, but Attilla is very experienced at this and pinches your nose closed until you’re forced to open your mouth for air. No sooner does your mouth open than you feel him pushing his enormous cock past your gasping lips! He slowly begins shoving his length into your face…your lips stretch until you’re sure they’ll tear…You gag and choke helplessly as the supercock extends past your tonsils…Attilla grabs the back of your smooth head and begins pulling you towards him…your entire world consists of his gigantic dick, and the chants of the audience. He begins pushing and pulling your helpless head, establishing a rhythm as you hang there, totally impaled. You swear you can hear a low rumbling as he begins to come. At the last second, he eases his monster out of your throat and comes all over your face! What feels like quarts of his hot, sticky sperm coat your face as the crowd cheers wildly…Attilla steps away, and the camera closes in on your dripping, goo-covered face…Then the rack returns you to an upright position.

The next wrong answer, the next spin…DOGGY STYLE…”How Much Is That Doggie In The Window” begins playing as Gary introduces Beatrice Mullen, “Dog Trainer To The Stars!” Beatrice approaches you and with an apologetic smile, says, “Sorry, my dear. But if you knew how much I was being paid…” And she fastens a collar around your neck and attaches a leash to it. Then your legs are untied…briefly. The two “executioners” fold your legs double and secure them that way with tight, wide rubber bands. This renders you incapable of straightening your legs. Then your arms are freed! You revel in this feeling of semi-freedom, not knowing what’s to happen next. You’re laid down on the floor on your hands and knees, then Beatrice jerks on your leash! “Walkies!” she intones. You struggle to follow her as she leads you around the stage. Your face burns in shame. Then you’re returned to the center of the stage. One of the Spokes-bimbos approaches you with a large aerosol can. She holds it in front of you, then holds it up to the camera for all to see…on the label, in big black letters, are the words, “BITCH IN HEAT”. You shudder in fear as the aerosol’s contents are aimed and sprayed, first on your pouting pussy, then to your horror on your face! You guess your fate correctly…two huge mastiffs are escorted on stage, growling and snapping. Both of them catch your scent at the same time; their ears perk up and they lope towards you! You fight to escape, but your leashmistress is unmoveable… The dogs reach you and begin sniffing frantically about your crotch and face. The inevitable happens…you feel nails scratch your back as the first dog mounts your hindquarters…you’re helpless to prevent it…his long, thin penis enters you…you writhe with revulsion…fucked like a dog…by a dog…being bred in front of strangers like an animal…Your humiliation doubles as the second mastiff trots in front of you, mounts you, and begins thrusting his dick at your face! You resolve to deny him entry, but all of a sudden Beatrice yanks hard on your leash and you gasp in pained surprise…

That’s all the opportunity the second mastiff needs. He pushes his cock deep into your sore mouth! You’re now being dog-fucked at both ends! The dogs establish a rhythm and soon spill their seed into you…one in your pussy, and the other deep down your throat. The dogs withdraw, along with the trainer and the spokesbimbos and the executioners…Your legs are freed by Gary, and he removes the collar as well…You’re now onstage alone with him and Chrissie…you’re too abused to rend them limb from limb…

“Final round comin’ up after these commercial messages!” Gary gushes.

“Kelli? Are you all right? We’re doing really great, don’t you think?” Chrissie says.

You slowly raise your shorn head and glare at her. Then the “executioners” come back on stage…one of them grabs your right arm and holds it tightly…the other injects you with a syringe full of something.

“What the…” you begin.

“Relax, Kelli,” Gary intones. “Just a little something we give all our Targets just before the Alterations Round begins. Helps keep ’em …happy…and quiet. Also serves as a spinal block; no matter how the round goes, you’ll feel no pain…”

“No…no…” you murmur. “Stop it….no more…” You feel a smile cross your face. Inside you’re terrified, but outside you’re grinning like a moron. You let the “executioners” lead you back to your rack and smile at them as they re-fasten you to it.

The game resumes. The Wheel of Alterations is rolled out and you read some of the options on it; inside you melt with fear, but outside you show no concern. The insidious drug controls you totally.

The horror resumes with the next wrong answer. SILENCED SLUT appears on the Wheel. Your rack once again pivots, placing you horizontally face-up; a man dressed as a surgeon appears, pushing a tray of medical instruments towards you! With a sadistic smile on his face he takes his scalpel and lays open your throat! You can feel the tugging and pushing of his hands as he works, but true to Gary’s word you feel no pain as the surgeon severs your vocal chords! You weep on the inside as you realize that you’ve been rendered permanently mute…silenced forever! He stitches you up and bandages your throat, then stands off to the side in case his services are needed again. The wheel returns you to an upright position.

“Kelli, say a few words for us!” Gary begs. You open your mouth and form words, but no sound escapes your ruby lips, only an inaudible hissing of air. The audience erupts into laughter.

Tickticktickticktick…the Wheel spins again…SCHNOZZOLA appears. Again the rack pivots…again the surgeon approaches…again the scalpel flashes…you lie there helplessly as your nose is enlarged to clownish proportions. Your formerly pert, sexy nose is now huge and bulbous! You marvel at how swiftly your looks are being stolen from you. All the while, under the influence of the insidious drug, you smile, smile, smile…all the while thinking, “God! What more can they do to me?”

You find out soon.

“What is the capital of Virginia?”

“Ummm….I have no idea! Raleigh?”

“No, I’m sorry…it’s Richmond. Spin that Wheel!” The options flash by, stopping on…NIPLESS. “That’s not a misspelling!” Gary says. “Doctor?” And the surgeon approaches you again and leans over your chest…you can smell the alcohol on his breath…you hang there impotent as he removes both your nipples…stitching your mutilated breasts back together with twin X’es of thick black thread…you continue to smile, but tears start streaming down your cheeks in spite of the drug…your beautiful breasts scarred forever…never again can a lover’s tongue tease your nipples into erection…

The wrong answers pile up…at the next mistake FATTY comes up on the wheel, and a huge vat of fat cells is rolled out…The surgeon makes incisions into your stomach, cheeks, thighs, and ass and begins injecting the fat cells into you…you watch in grinning horror as your body begins to engorge…your stomach bloats…your thighs seem to inflate…your ass spreads…your cheeks puff out…you’re being made obscenely fat. All the hard work you did on your gorgeous bod, all the exercize…wasted…

AMAZON comes up next on the Wheel. Gary explains to the audience that the Amazons had their left breasts removed to improve their archery…the left breast gets in the way of a well-drawn bow…as the surgeon excises your left tit! you feel horribly mutilated!

“Time for one last question,” Gary informs Chrissie. “You and your partner have won $7600 so far. Would you like to bet it all on one last spin of the Wheel?”

Chrissie appears to consider as you mouth “No…no…no…” over and over again. “Let’s go for it, Gary!” Chrissie chirps.

“That’s my brave girl!” Gary gushes. “Now: name the country that borders the United States to the North?”

“Mexico!” Chrissie shrieks happily.

“No, I’m sorry…I said NORTH…that’s Canada…you lost all your winnings…and it’s time for the final payoff. Spin the Wheel one last time!” Dejectedly Chrissie approaches the Wheel…not daring to look you in the eyes…knowing that you’ve been horribly defaced for nothing…she spins and the Wheel lands on…666 TIME. “Our resident tattooist, Kevin, will now turn Kelli into an illustrated cartoon! Stick around and watch, Folks! Good Night!” And as the credits slowly roll the tattooist comes out…he’s incredibly hairy and greasy and he stinks of cigarettes…the rack flips you around so that your back is to the audience…the cameras close in as he begins to tattoo a huge demon across you newly-fat back…you wince at the prick of the needle, the drug finally beginning to wear off…he works incredibly fast, covering your entire back with garish, nightmarish designs…then he moves to your face…you sob as he injects the inks into your formerly lovely visage…a spider’s web now covers your entire face…Sometime during your ordeal Chrissie has disappeared, and somehow you know she planned all this for some reason. It really doesn’t matter why now…your beauty is gone forever.


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