“Hello ladies and gentleman and welcome to the special edition of Ignorance is Bliss, the critically acclaimed gameshow where reality is not always as it seems!”
I nervously tap on my contestant podium. The host stands metres away from me, reciting his perfectly practiced speech into the intimidatingly large camera. The studio lights reflect off his teeth and blind me. Behind the camera stands three bleachers, seating large crowds of giddy gawking audiences. Most of them are men. Just a bit older than me, I say. But what really caught my attention was the cube on the other side of the stage. A big one too. It’s like a glass room. A room without a door. What the hell could that be?
The host smiles and waves his hands openly. He’s charismatic, I’ll give him that. I can see why people like his show. Though me personally, I’ve never seen it. I’ve heard about it though. Specifically through people on Reddit. Apparently, it’s a generic trivia show. Aired after midnight too, so the audience for the show can’t be too big. So, even if I embarrass myself on here, my dignity won’t be completely destroyed. I just have to answer a few pointless questions and then I’ll be rich. Shouldn’t be too hard. At this point, I’m broke, so I’ll take any cash prize I can get. Whether it’s $100 or the full $1,000,000, I’m not leaving here empty handed.
“I am your host, Jimmy Clark. Let’s get right into it!” The crowd lets out a large cheer.
“Our first contestant of the day is Atlas Green, an economics student at MIT. He’s a self-proclaimed maths genius, his favourite TV show is Survivor and he has never travelled outside of America!” The crowd lets out a light chuckle.
I didn’t think they’d use my application as my introduction. We’re not even a minute in and my cheeks are already red.
“Hi there, Jimmy.” I exaggerate my phoney smile for the camera.
“So, Atlas, you know how the game works. Get a question right and you’ll be one step closer to our grand prize of $1,000,000.” The crowd goes wild as the figure flashes up on the large screens behind us. “Get a question wrong however…”
The studio falls silent, anxiously waiting for Jimmy’s reveal.
“You will leave here, no money, no grand prize. But don’t worry, here on Ignorance is Bliss, no one ever leaves empty handed…”
I glance nervously at the audience. They had reverted back to their obnoxious cheering and shouting. Although, a part inside me is celebrating too from hearing I won’t be leaving without some sort of prize. But what kind of prize? That’s the real question here. It won’t be a $1,000,000 dollars worth prize, I can tell you that much. Maybe it’ll be a small Ignorance is Bliss trinket or something? I hope not. Though I’m curious about the loser’s prize, I don’t intend on finding out what it is. I’m here for that grand prize. I’m not leaving without it.
“Let’s get started!” Jimmy beamed, the crowd screaming. “First question.”
The rounds start off easy. As easy as you’d expect from a stereotypical game show. Current events, pop culture, geographical stuff. Though, none were particularly difficult, I can’t let myself get cocky. It only takes one royal fuckup and that $1,000,000 dollar prize slips right through my fingers. And the questions are definitely getting more difficult. I know that much. Now, the questions are delving into actors I’ve never heard of or countries I know bare minimum about. I just gotta keep calm and I should be able to do it.
“Last question of the night!” Jimmy applauds me. “Almost no one has gotten this far. In fact, no one has ever won the cash prize, Atlas. Will you be the first?”
“The final question of today’s show is…. ‘In Hinduism, who is the male God of erotic love, lust and sexual pleasure?’”
I look towards Jim, then to one of the camera men and smile nervously. Weird final question. And what makes it worse is I have no clue what the answer is. I’m a young white student. Never left the country. Was raised Roman Catholic. There is no way I am getting this. At least not through rational thought or logical reasoning. I’m just gonna have to guess. I have a one in four chance of winning a million dollars. 25%. Fuck. That doesn’t bode well for me. One in four… one in four… okay. No point in delaying it.
A timer appears on the screens behind us, ticking down quickly. I glance at all four options. It could be any of them. I don’t know. How am I supposed to know? I have to guess.
“We’re gonna need an answer now, Atlas!” Jimmy warns.
The timer continues to tick down.
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
“3 seconds left Atlas!” Jimmy yells frantically.
“Rama!” I shout. Less than a second left on the timer. But is it right…?
“You chose option D, Rama.” The charismatic host looks towards the screens, waiting for them to turn green or red. “The correct answer is…”
Time stops. I look at the screen. Waiting. One million dollars…
Suddenly, the screen and studio lights turn a deep dark red. The words ‘wrong answer’ flash across the monitor. I feel my heart sink into my stomach. Jimmy emulates a sympathetic wince, letting out a condescending ‘awww’.
What? Kamadeva? That wasn’t one of my options! Was it a mistake? Or was the show rigged? I’m betting the latter. No wonder no one has ever reached the grand prize. They’re being lied too, forced take the stupid loser prize home. I was set up.
“Hey! That’s bullshit! That wasn’t-“ I scream before Jimmy cuts me off.
“Don’t worry my boy! As you know, no one goes home empty handed!” He pats me on the back. “Get over here.”
Jimmy throws his arm around me, tightly holding me in place. He escorts me towards the other side of the stage. Towards the big mysterious glass cube. As I’m forced to approach it, a side of the cube lifts open letting mist seep out of it, like some kind of sci-fi movie. The intimidatingly tight grip of the host eases before he tosses me inside. As I stumble to the ground, the glass door behind me slams shut, leaving me trapped inside the glass cage. I scramble to my feet. The audience gawks at me. I feel like an animal in a zoo. Is this some kind of humiliation technique? Is there actually a loser prize? Or is this the loser prize after all? It’s a sham either way, that’s for sure. I begin looking for a way out but the cage is empty. Although, at the top of each glass corner, there are orange tubes. The tubes connect to the ceiling of the studio. God knows what’s in it. Maybe thats where the mist came from? It can’t be good, that’s all I know.
“So Atlas! You lost Ignorance is Bliss!” The host announces. I can feel rage filling inside me. “But, no one leaves here empty handed! It’s time to announce your prize!”
“You clearly don’t know much about Hinduism or Indian culture, Atlas!” The crowd giggles and whispers to each other. “So as your prize, Ignorance is Bliss is granting you a LIFELONG TRIP TO YOUR HOMELAND, INDIA!”
My clueless expression remains unchanged. Lifetime? Homeland? What does he mea- what the fuck? Suddenly, an orange gas is pumped into the glass cage from the tubes above, robbing me of clean air and replacing it with a hot suffocating warmth. I pounce onto the glass and yell for help. My cries are met with the audience gawking at me like I’m some kind of monkey at the Zoo. I try to avoid breathing the gas, but at this point it’s all-encompassing, giving me no choice but to take a gas filled breathe. As I breathe in, a strange feeling travels throughout my body. A strange pleasurable feeling. Erotic almost… I look down to see my 6 inch boner straining against my pants, on full display for the audience. I feel more and more blood rush into my cock. At this point, it feels as if my cock is hard enough to burst through my pants. I grab my boner with my two hands and then realise... never in the 22 years of my life have I fit both hands on my cock… one hand was enough to cover it whole. I slowly look down at my body. My cock… its growing. Inch by inch, I see my cock expand. As if I have a growing boner which never stops increasing in size. It grows and grows, straining my pants, until the tip of my boner presses against the side of my hip. The new cock, which fills my pants, suddenly stops growing in length. Instead, it starts thickening. My cock, which was just thicker than my thumb, begins fattening up, becoming chunkier and thicker. It grows heavier and heavier until my knees feel like giving out. Still adjusting to my new fat manhood, I take a step backwards, tripping. I twist and fall on my new fat package, causing the seams of my pants to burst open. My fat cock flops out, acting as a cushion for my pelvis to lay on. I pick myself up and sit back on my flat ass, my cock now long and heavy enough to still be laying on the ground. I panic, lift myself to my feet and turn around to the audience, displaying my new unnaturally large appendage. It hangs down between my legs, reaching my knee. The heat fills my genitals, more specifically, my balls. My balls, which looked ridiculously small compared to my new massive cock, begin to grow. Almost like a water balloon, my balls fill with hot potent semen, ready to shoot inside some fuckable ass. My new balls begin to appear proportionate to my unnaturally thick penis, forcing my legs apart to accommodate it.
“Look how flustered he is, folks! That new big appendage of his looks like it could cum everywhere at any moment!” The host laughs, inspiring cheers from audience members.
God… I’m so hard. The audience is staring at me… but that turns me on even more. They’re in awe of my Godly cock. My Godly Indian cock…. wait… no. Why am I thinking this? I’m not Indian. I’m not… gonna stuff my Godly Hindu cock into some pathetic white boy and impregnate his hole. Oh fuck! I need to stop. What’s wrong with me?! My average dick turning into a massive monster cock is one thing, but this is even more overwhelming. Not only have I lost control of my body, but now… I’m losing control of my mind. It’s as if the gas is seeping into every crevice of my brain, making my thoughts more lustful… more primal. Images of my fat cock breeding men assault my mind. Vivid fantasies which involve my thick sperm shooting into a big fat jiggling ass. I begin hitting my head. This is too much. It’s all too much. As I smack my head, attempting to knock some sense into myself, I notice something strange.
I look down at my body. It seems to be… growing. My chest… its inflating like a balloon. The two muscles press against my tight shirt. They look soft. The kind of soft that would make for the most comfortable and fuckable pillows. I decide to feel it. I press my hand on it. It sinks into it, fat flowing through the crevices between my fingers. My pecs look like the most beautiful pair of perky fuckable tits. Is that what they’re making me into? Some big titted, massive cocked hybrid? Maximising femininity and masculinity on the body of one person… I panic that this will be my final form. A bisexual’s wet dream.
This worry is soon subsided as I feel the growth shoot down my arms. My biceps triple in size, looking like the arms of a professional NFL player. My hands begin fattening up too. My fingers turning into sausage sized monsters. Each finger is as fat as my old penis used to be… I’m thankful that they’re still useable… mostly. I might struggle to use a keyboard or accurately press the numbers on my phone now. The fingers are fat enough to press multiple buttons at once, like some big brute. My stomach begins to develop abs. They form into six perfectly shaped mountains. I run my thick brute hands over them, feeling the calluses from my fingers glide over each crevice. The growth finally reaches my lower half. Thankfully, my massive cock and balls are unaffected. I don’t think I could handle them growing any larger. I wouldn’t be able to walk… The growth mainly affects my legs, feet and unfortunately… my ass. My two cheeks begin to inflate but not in the way you’d expect. Instead of an unnaturally large increase in muscle mass like the rest of me, my ass seemed to only fill up with fat. Like two water balloons, my cheeks grow and jiggle, bouncing and shaking around with every slight movement. The audience watches as my insanely fuckable feminine ass sways from side to side, preventing me from walking normally. I waddle. It’s humiliating. This will be on TV. My friends will see this. My coworkers will see this. My classmates. My family…
My fuckable ass reaches its limit. It looks like two huge beachballs attached to me. The growth spreads to my legs. My thighs and calves grow, though not to an unnatural size like my bouncy cheeks. Their size is still nothing to scoff at. My legs look like two heavy tree trunks. They make it even more difficult to walk, or should I say, waddle.
I look down at my new self… I feel weird even saying its me. My pecs… my ass… my muscles.. I don’t resemble the skinny economics student who entered this studio an hour ago. I don’t look like me. I look like some dumb fuckable brute. It’s humiliating. I watch the crowd laugh and cheer at me. The new me. Mocking my waddling. Flexing their biceps, which were nothing compared to mine. Bouncing their pecs, which looked nothing like my big fuckable tits. I even glance at one guy in the second row who is fingering his hairy straight ass, letting out a jokingly high feminine moan.
“Do you feel like an Indian God, Atlas?!” The host laughs, his voice booming through the entire studio. “No? Let us help with that!”
The host clicks his fingers causing the gas to become noticeably more intense. It pumps the orange transformation gas into the glass cage at a higher rate than before, forcing me to inhale even more than before. I look down at my huge body, anticipating what could happen next. What is there left to change? The gas already inflated every part of my once skinny body. It elongated my cock, inflated my ass. What more could this smelly gas possibly do? How much more humiliating could this become?
I glance down at my thick forearm to realise something… it seems hairier than before. The hair seemed different too. Well, at least it looked different. Instead of my normal weak arm hairs, this new hair is noticeably thicker, like a wolf’s pelt. I never remember my arm hair being so dark. I assume it must be the gas again. I look at my body, realising my arms aren’t the only part of my body sprouting in thick hair. My chest has too. My once hairless chest now sprouts a thick sweaty pelt of hair. My legs seem to have adopted the wet pelt too. My armpit hair also seems more thick, although that’s the least of my worries right now. My face begins to itch. I reach up with my hairy paws and scratch it. My face feels fully bearded. My eyebrows are significantly more bushy too. Untrimmed. As if they had never seen a tweezers in their life.
I glance beside me to see a man standing on the other side of the glass. He stares at me, watching my transformation. He has dark skin. Beautiful dark skin. It glistens with sweat. I could almost smell his stench from here. He continues to stare at me. He looks confused. Confused and dumb. Very dumb. His jaw hangs agape, breathing strictly through his mouth. His forehead is very pronounced. His eyes are vacant. As if he had no brain. Couldn’t form a single thought of his own. Drool dribbles out the side of his mouth. It gathers in his beard as he dumbly chuckles at me. He looks like he’s only good for one thing: fucking. He continues to stare at me. Dumbly. Vacantly. Confusedly. I reach up and scratch my beard… he does the same. I tilt my head to the side… he does the same. I grab my juicy fuckable big pecs… he does the same. I stumble back in shock. It hit me. All at once… the smelly stench… the big pecs… the huge muscles… juicy pecs… fat cock and fuckable ass… it’s… me.
The man… the one staring back at me… my reflection… his… his skin. His deep dark beautiful brown skin. It’s mine. Gone was my caucasian skin. Gone were my caucasian features. The show completely changed me. It changed me into some big, dumb, fuckable, Indian brute…
“There we have it ladies and gentleman! Our sex God, Kamadeva!” The crowd screams in awe. I gaze into the crowd, displaying my new Godly form. I see men jerking each others cocks while looking at me. Even some fingering their holes chanting my name. I am… a sex God.
“That’s it for today’s show, folks. Tune in next time to see what happens to our next contestant!” The crowd screams and cheers. “This has been Ignorance is Bliss. Goodnight!”
The lights and camera shut off. Members of the crowd pull up their pants and make their way out of the studio. The host walks over to my glass cage and chuckles. I adjust to my new weight. He stares at the Indian God in front of him.
“Don’t worry, Kamadeva. We’ll have you shipped off to India in no time.” He smirks. “Soon, all of this will be just a distant memory…”
“प्लीज मेरा सुराख भर दो। मैं बहुत हॉर्नी हूं” I mutter.
And so, Atlas will live out the rest of his life in Mumbai as the Indian sex God, Kamadeva.
Reviews conclude he definitely lives up to his name. He puts both his massive cock and fuckable ass to good use, providing pleasure to men all over India. He lets men cum up his big juicy wobbling ass and he also breeds every man with a bubble butt that he sees, making the most out of his Godly body.
The man has no memory of his life in the US. To Kamadeva, he was always Indian. He was always a sex God. He was always a dumb fuckable brute with a low IQ. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
As Ignorance is Bliss promised, he definitely didn’t go home empty handed…
