Reality Game Show

I was nervous, but excited -- very excited.

Tonight was the night.

It started many weeks ago, when I saw the advertisement online. It was an advertisement for a new, upcoming reality TV show. And they were looking for fresh faces. Open-minded people. Prudes need not apply. I'd never thought of myself as prudish, and I certainly felt that I was open-minded. Since my face had never been seen on TV before, I assumed that I also qualified as a fresh face.

The chance to be on TV. Maybe it would be the start of a new career. At the very least, it would be something new and interesting to do. "What harm can it do to audition?" I thought to myself. So I went.

When I got there, the waiting room was full of people. Men and women, young and old, plain and beautiful -- you name it, they were there. It seemed that everyone wanted to be on television. I thought I'd have to wait all day, given the number of applicants. But the people running the process were very efficient. They had lots of interviewers, and people were rapidly called out of the waiting room, and funneled into smaller interview rooms.

Once they were called from the waiting room, they never returned. So they must've left the building by another door. Therefore, as I waited, I couldn't interrogate a departing person, to find out what the show was about. I just had to wait until it was my turn. I'd dressed as nicely as I could, choosing a floral dress that hung to mid thigh. My sheer pull-up stockings sheathed my legs, enhancing their shape and giving them a subtle sheen. I wore my best pair of kitten heels -- hopefully to ensure that I wouldn't wobble as I walked, nor would I twist an ankle. I'd brushed my shoulder length brown hair until it shone, and use the minimal amount of makeup, trying for that fresh look that they apparently sought.

As my name was called, I tried to calm the jitters in my stomach as I accompanied the cute, petite blonde woman that had summoned me. When we entered the small interview room it turned out that she was also my interviewer, introducing herself as Olivia. She checked the spelling of my name, asked my age, and asked to see my driver's license to verify that fact. She asked for contact information, such as my address and my phone number, plus my marital status.

"I'm single, Olivia," I replied an answer to that question.

"That's fine," Olivia said. "And do you have a significant other? A boyfriend? A girlfriend?"

That question worried me a little bit. What if this show dealt with couples and their relationship? But I couldn't invent a boyfriend or girlfriend out of thin air, so I had to reply, "No. Not at this time. Nobody special. I hope that's okay."

"It certainly doesn't disqualify you," Olivia assured me. "In fact, it's wonderful. It means that there aren't any entanglements with which we need be concerned."

I was puzzling over that statement, as Olivia continued filling out the form in front of her, asking my height, weight, measurements -- even my shoe size. I'm not sure that those bits of information were all that important. In retrospect, I think that Olivia was just calming me down, since I still felt a little jittery.

"Okay," she said, making firm eye contact with me. "Let me get to the crux of the matter. This reality show that your auditioning for deals with nudity. In fact, it deals with sexuality. I'm certain that you noticed our ad indicating that prudes need not bother coming here. So I'll ask you straight out, Roberta. Do you have any hangups about nudity and sexuality, and do you pleasure yourself on a regular basis?"

"Call me Bobbi, please," I said, giving myself a moment to consider what she'd just asked. "In answer, let me say this, Olivia. I'm definitely not a prude. And I don't believe I have any hangups about nudity. And I feel I have a healthy approach to my sexuality." I did feel my cheeks heating slightly from a blush as I added, "And I pleasure myself almost every day." I neglected to add that it was often several times a day, figuring that might be too much information. I went on, "But we're talking about television, aren't we? I have a hard time believing the FCC will allow complete nudity on television, let alone any overt sexuality. Am I wrong?"

"Not at all, Bobbi. Under normal circumstances, what you say is true. However, two things make our situation different. First, the show will only be aired after midnight. And second, it will only be available on a pay-per-view channel. We've been assured that under those circumstances we'll be able to show what we wish, as long as we're clear in our description of the program."

I mentally digested that bit of information. It made me feel better that no one would actually 'stumble' across the sight of me on such a show. The only way they could see it -- whatever it was -- was if they actively sought it out, and paid for it.

Olivia seem to be waiting for me to say something, so I stated, "I understand. Since you say the show will be pay-per-view, may I be so bold as to ask if I'll be compensated, if I'm chosen?"

Olivia told me that the details would be spelled out in my contract, but told me how much I'd be paid up front for doing my segment, and also the tiny amount I'd be paid for each person that signed up to view the show. That part sounded like an insignificant amount of money until she pulled out a calculator and, as an example, multiplied it by the most recent number of people that had paid for one of their shows. My eyes almost crossed in disbelief at the possible payoff.

I swallowed hard. "How am I doing so far?" I asked her.

"You're doing splendidly, Bobbi," she replied, smiling. "To be honest with you, most of the applicants, when they hear the word 'sexuality' spoken, they thank us and head for the door. So you've made it past that point. Now we come to the next step. You say that you don't believe you have any hangups about nudity. Please stand up, and take off your dress, bra, and panties. If you have to remove your stockings to do so, those can come off also.

I fear my eyes bulged slightly with surprise. Olivia was certainly calling my bluff. It's not every day that I'm in a room in an office building with a comparative stranger, and taking off my clothes in front of that stranger. Some butterflies started flapping in my stomach as I got out of the chair. I decided that I'd better be bold about this. Keeping eye contact with Olivia, I unzipped my dress and stepped out of it, placing it on my chair. Reaching behind my back, I unhooked my bra, and shrugged it off my shoulders. After placing my bra on top of my dress, my hands went to the waistband of my panties. I managed to slip them down and off, while maintaining eye contact.

Completely naked, I placed my hands behind my head, interlacing my fingers, which gave my breasts a gentle uplift, thereby enhancing their appearance, I hoped. Moreover, I moved my feet about shoulder width apart, and tilted my pelvis back slightly, offering Olivia a better view of my pussy. "How's this?" I asked.

"Very nice," she replied. "Also please pull your labia open and let me see inside."

Coloring slightly, I grasped my pussy lips and stretched them apart, still looking into Olivia's face. We'd certainly moved from a test about nudity to a further test about sexuality. I began to wonder if this was going to be one of those 'casting couch' experiences that I'd seen online. Perhaps I'd have to gone down on Olivia to get the part, or something. "Is this view good enough? Should I move closer?"

Olivia's laugh was merry and infectious. "You passed that step with flying colors, Bobbi. I'd like you to remain unclothed for the remainder of the interview. Is that okay with you?"

"At least the room is warm enough that I don't feel the chill coming on," I giggled. "Do you want me to keep standing like this?"

Chuckling, Olivia replied, "That won't be necessary. You can hang your clothes on the wall hook, and I'll give you a towel to put on your chair seat." She apparently had a stack of them out of sight behind her desk.

When I'd settled myself, she asked me, "Tell me, does it concern you at all that you'll be seen by perhaps hundreds of thousands of people, naked, and exposing your sexuality?"

"That thought did run through my mind, Olivia. To be honest, most of those people won't know me from Eve, and have no chance of ever meeting me. My friends might recognize me, but they already know how kinky I am, and have accepted me anyway. And if some acquaintance or co-worker might see me, they can hardly give me any grief, since they actually paid to watch such 'scandalous' behavior." I grinned at her.

Olivia looked pleased, as she said, "Wonderful answer. Bobbi. We've now come to the final, most important step. I need for you to share with me three of your sexual fantasies that you find to be the most exciting, the most arousing items or scenarios. Perhaps these are things that you think about when you pleasure yourself. And please, don't hold back. Some of us, myself included, have fantasies that are so kinky, so perverted, that we're afraid that other people would judge us harshly, if they learned about them. I assure you that I'll not judge you, and I doubt that anything that you come up with would shock me. Trust me on that."

My mind raced through several possibilities. Part of me wanted to know what Olivia's kinky, perverted fantasies might be. But I curtailed that line of inquiry, not wanting to anger her, and perhaps lose out on this opportunity. I consoled myself with the fact that if I was chosen, perhaps she and I would get to know each other better down the road, and she'd share some of those fantasies, since she was going to learn mine.

I decided on the first, and perhaps less perverted, but still intensely arousing scene I wanted to share. "One thing that I've never experienced, but find that every time I imagine it, it really turns me on, is... a gang bang, Olivia. The idea of a group of horny guys surrounding me, demanding that I pump and suck their dicks until they're stiff as steel rods, and slippery with my saliva. And then they shove those dicks into my mouth, cunt, and ass, fucking me silly." My voice trailed off and I think my eyes glazed over as I imagined such a scene. My body shivered with delight.

"Mmmmm," Olivia hummed delightedly. "Just guys though?"

"Oh, it doesn't have to be," I explained. "I've seen videos where women also took part. That's exciting, too. But to be honest, I wouldn't want it to be just women. Cocks and penetration are important to me."

"And do you visualize these guys to be wearing condoms? In your fantasy do you want to avoid getting semen in or on your body?" Olivia asked.

"Well, in the back of my mind, the guys are all perfectly healthy, so I don't have to worry about STDs. And since I'm on birth control, I don't care where their semen ends up," I answered, giggling because I felt my cheeks heating up again. "When I've fucked lovers in my past, I've always enjoyed the sensation of feeling their cocks releasing inside me. It seems to make it extra erotic for me."

"Does this fantasy ever involve some aspects of bondage?" Olivia wanted to know. "Like ropes being used to force you into compromising positions, giving the guys ready access to you?"

"How did you know?" I countered. "Yes. I visualize them doing that sometimes. It's all part of the aspect of loss of control for me. It's extra hot in my mind when I imagine I'm helpless. I see the guys getting even more horny when they know I'm in their power."

"Excellent. Let me jot some notes, while you decide upon fantasy number two," she said. Olivia wrote more information on the form she was filling out, occasionally stopping to stare off into space in thought as she tapped the back end of her pen gently against her lips. I figured that she was using my fantasies to see if I was psychologically suited for what they had in mind, so I stopped staring at those luscious, kissable lips, and concentrated on my next selection.

When she'd finished, and focused her attention back on me, I had my next concept ready. "I hope this doesn't sound too kinky, Olivia. Lately, I've become curious about golden showers."

Giggling, perhaps to reassure me that she wasn't shocked in the least, she asked, "Giving them, or receiving them?"

I felt my eyebrows go up of their own accord. "Ummm. Receiving them, of course. I can't foresee much of a thrill in pissing on someone. But the humiliation and degradation of some person or persons standing over me, and urinating... the feel of their hot piss washing over my skin." I stopped speaking, shuddering with the excitement of that imagery. "I can't explain it exactly. Why this gets me all hot and bothered. But it does."

"I see," Olivia said in a matter of fact tone of voice. "Let me ask two things. First, in your fantasies does any pee get on your face, mouth, or hair? And second, would a fantasy about you actually pissing on yourself be exciting, too? I can visualize several ways that could happen."

Once again, she'd surprised me. I figured I'd better tackle the first question first. "Having it hit my face, mouth and hair is usually part of what I imagine. Since this fantasy is about degradation, those targets heighten my arousal. About pissing on myself... well... I'm assuming you're not just saying I should imagine peeing on my legs, right?"

"Right," she concurred. "For instance, imagine you're suspended upside down. Such a position would cause your urine to cover your upper body from crotch to head when you urinated."

"Wow," I gasped, imagining it. "Wow, wow, wow. My hot piss streaming along my body, hitting my..." I touched my belly, tits, neck and face as the image blossomed in my mind. "I'm definitely adding that idea to my masturbation fantasies. Thank you. Yes. That sounds thrilling." I grinned impishly.

Olivia started scribbling notes again, so I decided I'd better focus on my third and final 'scenario' to share. What should it be? Should I really tell her my deepest, darkest, most nasty fantasy? Maybe I'd better come clean, I decided. I really wanted a shot at being on that show.

She stopped writing, and locked eyes with me, one of her eyebrows rising inquisitively. "Yes?" she said. "What is it? It looks like you're dying to tell me something, but some censorship circuit within you is trying to stop you. Come on, spill it," she urged me.

"Okay, okay. You've got me," I murmured. Gathering my courage, I told her, "I've got an obsession with a few of my relatives. A sexual obsession." My voice quavered as I made this revelation. "I've never told a soul about this, because it's so taboo and it sounds so perverted. But just being near them makes me want to drop my panties and put out."

Olivia smiled, and started writing. "Who are these relatives, and have you ever acted on these impulses with any of them?"

My voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "My aunt and uncle, and... my brother. And no, I've never done anything with any of them, but every time I'm near them now, I get wet."

"Who's the actual relative? Your aunt or your uncle?"

"Glenda, my aunt, is my mother's sister. The uncle, Bert, is her husband," I replied.

"Okay, and I need to ask this next question. We can't take anything for granted. Is your brother your biological brother?"

"Funny you should ask that," I stated. "He's two years older than I am, and we were raised together. But just a couple of years ago, I learned that my parents were trying hard to have a baby, with no success. So they gave up and adopted my brother, Earl. Lo and behold, within a year, my mom got pregnant with me, and they weren't even trying. I've read about this phenomenon in other families. Something about once the 'pressure' to conceive is off, it happens more easily."

"So your aunt, Glenda, is really your only blood relative of the trio you're fantasizing about?" Olivia asked.

"Oh. I see what you're asking. Now that you put it that way, you're correct. It's not something I've thought about in that manner," I explained.

Olivia finished recording her notes. She stood up, and came around the desk to stand by my chair. "Please stand up," she instructed me.

"Okay, here it comes," I thought. "She's about to put the moves on me. Do I really want to fuck my way onto the show?" I was pondering this as I rose.

But Olivia didn't touch me, or make any further demands. She picked up the towel from the chair seat, and studied it. It's center was sopping wet. She twisted the towel in her hands. I blushed as she managed to squeeze out a trickle of my cunt juices from it. We both watched the droplets striking the floor.

"You weren't kidding about those scenarios arousing you, I see. Perfect. I expect you'll be a great addition to the show," she assured me.

"I'm in?" I asked, rather breathless. "I'll be on the show?" When she nodded, I impulsively hugged her hard, ignoring the fact that I was still naked. My subtle up and down bouncing movement, expressing my happiness, caused my breasts to rub on hers.

Olivia chuckled, seemingly very much at ease with being hugged by a jubilant nude woman. She hugged me back, and then whispered, "You can get dressed now. We'll call you to arrange the details for your shoot."

I thanked her, and virtually floated out of the room -- fully dressed, of course.

When I received my contract, 2 days later, I had my lawyer, Sally, look it over. She told me it was pretty straightforward, and the salary and pay-per-view amounts I'd been quoted looked correct. There was a fairly stringent penalty clause that'd be invoked if I failed to show up when scheduled for any reason other than a documented medical emergency, and if I ruined the show by refusing to perform. But it stated that I'd be asked to do nothing harmful or dangerous. It went on to state that if I deemed anything an anathema, or repugnant, accommodations would be made. I could tell Sal was curious what possible repugnant items might be involved, but she was too polite to ask. I was too embarrassed to elucidate anything about the interview, and I still had no real clue about the final nature of the show, anyway.

During the ensuing weeks, I was burning up with curiosity. I watched other reality shows, getting some ideas of what they did. Would there be a bunch of us, put on an island, broken into teams, with challenges? Each week would I hear the 'tribe has spoken' and someone would be voted off the island? Or would a bunch of us be put into a house together under constant surveillance, sort of like Big Brother is watching you? Then I ran across a show called Naked and Afraid, where only two people were placed naked in a hostile environment, and forced to try to survive. Maybe if we did that sort of thing, they wouldn't have to blur my tits and our groins, given the time slot and the pay-per-view status. That was probably something avid watchers had been clamoring for, I was sure. After all, the title said 'naked' not 'blurry naked' didn't it? On the episode I watched the two people couldn't get a fire started, and had to eat things raw. Having to eat raw octopus or something would sure be repugnant to me.

After all those weeks of waiting and wondering, finally my night to perform had come. By this point, I knew we'd be working in a studio, not out on location in a jungle or on an island, so I'd breathed a sigh of relief. They sent a town car to fetch me, which made me feel extra elegant and pampered. When we pulled up to the studio, Olivia herself was there to open the car door and greet me. "Hi," she said. "Nervous? Excited? Ready for your big night, Bobbi?"

"You're quite perceptive, Olivia. I'm both nervous and excited, and I'm really happy to see you here. One thing that's strange, though," I said as we walked into the building. "I've not seen any hint of this program anywhere."