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"Welcome to tonight's episode of 'Do You Want to be an Amazon?'" Tiffany Innuendacock greeted the audience, who practically rocked the rafters with eager cheering and clapping. The nearly three meter tall Amazon was all muscle and curves. She was dressed like she always was, in a formal shirt and jacket, straining to contain her gender appropriate breast and biceps, and a too small loincloth, struggling to contain her massive endowment, balancing on a pair of stiletto heels that gave her ass a boost past bouncy and into earthquake prone. "And let's meet today's contestant, Garth."

The stage lights pivoted to point at the middle aged man sitting perched on a too tall stool, wearing the same outfit as Tiffany, though it certainly wasn't nearly as flattering.

"So, why are you here tonight, Garth?" Tiffany asked, sliding back into her stool, her built and flowing form contrasting with the painfully ordinary smaller man.

"Well, erm... my wife, Dorthy, and I were hoping to... use the money to help pay off some debts..." Garth said, compressing weeks of arguing, worry, and slowly evaporating alternatives into one line.

"And how does Dorthy feel about you being on here?" Tiffany asked, looking at him in mock concern.

"Well, she applied too..."

"That's a good start." Tiffany agreed.

"And she's in the audience." Garth continued, smiling a bit, looking into the crowd. His face fell.

"Sorry honey, we stopped allowing spouses in the same room after last season. She'll be watching from our VIP booth." Tiffany said, not entirely unkindly, pointing to the darkened room set above the main seating. The lights turned on, revealing a plainly worried woman about the same age as Garth. They waved to each other. One of the four Amazon Warriors in the room blew a kiss down at Garth, while a Servant brought around a drinks tray, their mass of tits and ass wobbling across the audience's screen's to general applause.

"Alright, how much money do you two need?"

"Erm... all of it... I'm going to go for all of it."

"All ten rounds? My, I can't wait to see what you look like at the other end. I only managed seven before getting too distracted to continue." Tiffany said, raising an eyebrow. "Still, I'm sure whatever happens will open up a wealth of new job opportunities."

Garth blushed. She wasn't kidding. Some people managed to only go a few rounds, escaping with "just" a new gender, and an extensive makeup routine to look like their old selves. The changes got more extreme as the show went on, a decade's worth of normally carefully controlled and dialed in mutagenic extracts added to a person's body in such a short time tended to produce... excessive outcomes. Sure, anyone could go out and buy a cum energy drink to grow or shrink a bit, but a full fledged pure strain transformation was pretty rare, especially given how ancestry could interact and push someone more aggressively than desired. Most people didn't risk it after college, and usually let any changes revert. Maybe with a splurge for special moments.

Still, Garth did some exploration, he'd even enjoyed it with his wife on their honeymoon, but... a little extra endurance and length was nothing like what was showing off in front of him right now. The head that hung past the loincloth easily was larger than his fear shrunken junk, and he didn't even want to think about how much smaller he was when both were hard.

Tiffany stood up and rolled her shoulders, highlighting her mutagen started and gym perfected frame, causing the specially reinforced stage to complain slightly at the nearly quarter ton of weight gracefully dancing around the edges, delighting in her watermelon sized boobs, her bright red hair, grapefruit sized balls, and constantly half aroused member that poured off enough pheromones to make the front few rows a splash zone.

Garth took a deep breath, said pheromones not helping to calm down his racing heart. There were only a few rounds that he needed to get absolutely right. Then he might be able to have a mostly normal life with Dorthy. But no matter what happened, she would be safe.

"Alright Garth, if you're ready, come over to the chair, where our technicians will get you set up." Tiffany said, leaning on the large padded seat, injectors prepped for the next contestant. Two masked people waited next to it, as her member hardened a tad, pushing fist sized head entirely past the end of the loincloth. Yeah, it was very easily larger than his junk, even as the pheromones slowly pushed it more towards normal size.

Garth swallowed and got up, trying to balance on the same shoes, tottering towards the chair, entirely aware that everyone could see his rear.

The two technicians had already prepped him ahead of the show, and it was a moment before the tubes were hooked up near his kidneys. He shivered as a slow current of cold began to spread from the injection points; a constant flow of saline and nutrients was entering his body to help with the later changes. Garth leaned back in the too large seat, trying not to kick his feet in nervous anticipation, still trying to keep his junk covered.

Tiffany waited until the medical staff gave the thumbs up. "Now, Garth," Tiffany began, and the entire crowd shouted with her. "Do you want to be an Amazon?" Garth nodded, dry mouthed.

"Then it's time to begin!" Tiffany said happily, sliding into her iconic stool with the third leg cutout. "As you know, there will be 10 questions. Answer them correctly, and you get to choose what change you'll get. Answer them wrong, and our eager audience will get to make their selection. Each question doubles your prize." She held up her data pad, and pressed a button. On the screens above, three options popped up. Servant, Citizen, Warrior. There was some loud tapping as people input their choice already. It was rarely Citizen. "What one are you hoping for?"

Garth tried to smile. "Warrior." He said. Of course he'd prefer Citizen, it was the only one that really let someone have a vaguely normal life, but trying to ask for that off that bat was just begging for trouble later. Even if he was normal sized, not being able to walk because of beanbag sized balls and boobs wasn't quite something he was willing to risk so quickly, and was practically guaranteed. And Servant had enough baggage even if he didn't get a rear as huge as the Servant passing out drinks in the VIP booth. He shook his head, trying to focus on the first question. I twas always about the origins of the Amazons, and usually had the same answer.

"Good choice. I know I've never regretted it." Tiffany laughed, leaning back and stretching, relishing the crowd's approval. "And onto the first question, which legendary figure first created the Amazon virus?"

"The Guiding Mother." Garth said reflexively, then slapped his forehead as he realized his mistake.

"Oof, looks like you already know the trick answer there. No, the Guiding Mother is who created Amazonia and bestowed the gift on her worshipers. The Needy Servant is who created the virus. And time for the vote." Garth slumped his head, annoyed that he'd already messed up, and on one of the more important questions. "And looks like you're in luck! Warrior. Have fun being able to lift boulders and crush trees with your thighs." Garth grinned weakly, sure he could shrink the height later... but warrior meant he was going to get a lot more extreme choices later, since they'd fit on his new frame, and those weren't something he would easily be able to fix. His normal-ish life was already rapidly slipping away.

Garth slumped against the seat, as he heard the systems in the chair come to life, and shivered as he felt the colder mutagen being pumped into his body. The cold feeling dissipated quickly, but he could feel his insides shifting, and his groin begin to heat up, his cock already starting to tent the loincloth. A moment later, the real capabilities of the chair were revealed, as a bolt of energy shot through his body.

He blinked, disoriented, and shifted his legs. Two unfamiliar folds of skin slid past each other. His new pussy.

"And with that you get your first cash prize. Plus a shipping container's worth of food as you grow over the next month. Can't have you ruining that cute outfit so quickly." Tiffany's grin widened. "You ready to continue?"

Garth crossed his legs, sending a spark of unfamiliar tingles up his spine, and nodded, trying not to react. Too much at least.

"Alright question two. Simple change, what hair color do you want?" Three options popped up on screen. Flaming Tresses, Blond Bombshell, and Couldn't Decide. "Whatever it is, it'll be a lot." Garth wasn't as concerned with this one, though Couldn't Decide seemed... to have bad connotations.

"Let's go with the classics, Blond Bombshell." He looked up at his thinning brown mop. "Hey, I've been looking for a baldness cure for a while." It got a chuckle from the audience. Not the most original line, but who doesn't like a good sport? The people hammering "Couldn't Decide" apparently. Garth couldn't remember what it was. Rainbow?

"Alright Garth. What is the median Amazon's penis length?"

"Warrior, or Amazon? And are you talking non-bome pressed?"

"Amazon, and bone pressed."

"That's... about normal then, right? Five to six inches?" Garth said, trying not to overthink the question.

"Well done! Contrary to most people's expectations the median Amazon is a citizen with a perfectly satisfactory 5.5 inches. The average is closer to 9, thanks to people like me." She tensed her already cut abs and her more than forearm length cock jumped.

Garth sighed in relief, as the machine started up behind him. Then that burst of energy. He blinked, his eyes suddenly obscured by thick blond hair, with a couple inches of his old color at the tips. He brushed the hair back behind his shoulders, and noticed that the back of his hands were hairless. Looking down, he could see the same around his bare legs and thighs.

"Looking good! Not everyone can pull off the blonde look, so let's see if your new face will match." The next three options popped up on screen. "Cocksucker, Primal, Girl Next Door." "What'll it be, Garth?"

Garth racked his memory. He thought that primal had fangs... and the thought sent a surge of blood into his groin. His legs pressed together and he tried not to gasp.

Tiffany grinned, and leaned in, stage whispering. "Yeah, us warriors usually have a power kink thing going on. We'll see how that affects your choices down the line." She winked. It would have felt sisterly, if not for the mic system and the catcalling from the crowd.

"Girl next door." He managed. Tiffany looked disappointed.

"Aww, pinning your wife underneath you as you bite her, marking her as yours... that's not what you want?" She shrugged, straining her shirt. "Oh well, can't account for taste."

The people who locked in Primal had already turned it into the majority.

"Alright, question 3. What percentage of the population is susceptible to Amazon cum addiction?" Tiffany asked. "Personally, I've found it's 100%, but we're talking clinical addiction."

"An estimated... 20%?"

"Good on you! Yes, approximately 20% of the population doesn't have enough Amazonian ancestry to be resistant to the physical dependency. About the same population considered at higher risk for alcoholism, though they're generally unrelated genes apparently." Tiffany said. And that same cold rush and zap.

Garth ran his tongue over his canine teeth regretfully, as his face heated up. He looked up at the cameras, and saw a cute face with long blond hair, exactly what you'd expect playing volleyball at the beach, still on a middle aged body. The difference was jarring.

"Now, let's even you out a bit. What type of warrior do you want to be?" Tiffany asked, apparently reading his mind. "Very Beary, Drill Sergeant's Wet Dream, Fun and Slippery!"

"Isn't Fun and Slippery a few questions away?"

Tiffany laughed with the crowd. "Yes, that can be an option there too." She said, waiting for him to make a choice.

Very Beary usually had issues fitting through doors. A Drill Sergeant's Wet Dream choice had once run a marathon while pulling a truck. Those thighs had to be annoying to deal with, and he didn't want to kill Dorothy. "Guess I'm going Fun and Slippery." Garth said, to general applause.

"Alright, what is the recommended daily calories consumed by a warrior?" Tiffany asked, glancing at a card, tapping her chin.

"Erm... baseline is... 2000.... I'm... guessing 10 times that? Your personality is at least 10 times as powerful as any other gameshow host." He grinned weakly, mind racing back to highschool biology.

Tiffany smiled. "I'm going to need a number."

"20,000 calories." Garth said.

"Correct! Depends on the specific strain, but about 20,000 is a good ballpark."

Garth breathed out heavily, relaxing into the chair, then cringed as cold flooded his body. He gasped loudly as the most intense changes hit to date.

He felt his stomach start to warm up, becoming nearly uncomfortable, then lighter, and he gasped as he felt his chest become heavier. He reflexively reached up, grabbing his expanding breasts, and shivered as his nipples sent their eager approval straight to his brain. Weight kept flowing, shifting from his middle to his chest, as he felt pressure against his legs, his ass slowly growing.

The chair held onto him for a moment, then the suction abruptly broke, as he slid forward, a sheen suddenly covering his body.

"Seriously? This is what Fun and Slippery means?" Garth complained, hefting his growing beasts, as droplets of sweat beaded between his mounds.

"Of course, and can I say that I am very much enjoying your new pheromones?" Tiffany said, eyelashes fluttering, as her dick jerked, a relaxed smile spreading over her face.

Garth blushed, as the changes continued, alternate waves of cold and hot spreading across his body, as he gained an hourglass figure, and he became slick with pheromone laced sweat. The crowd shouted their approval as he shrugged his way out of his jacket, chest straining the top few buttons of his previously fitted shirt.

Trying to ignore the discomfort, he took a deep breath, winced, popped the top two buttons, revealing a hint of cleavage, and nodded at Tiffany. "Alright, what's next?

"Question five, getting into the fun ones. Sizes! At least your male parts. Masturbatory ideal, bulging in all the right places, or 'It's average, ok?'" Tiffany said, pointing to rough estimates of how big each was. Masturbatory ideal was to the floor, bulging in all the right places was about her own size, and the last was something that probably wouldn't kill his wife.

"It's average, ok." Garth said firmly, to general booing.

Tiffany nodded, glancing up at the voting. Bulging in all the right places was winning, though not by much. "Alright, which sporting leagues can Amazons compete in?"

Garth blinked, confused. "Erm... Amazon exclusive leagues?" He finally managed, not even sure what the question was asking.

"Ouch, sorry, we're allowed in the open category, along with anyone else who uses certain performance enhancing substances. There's too much of a range of what defines an Amazon for an Amazon only league to really work." Tiffany seemed honestly apologetic. "Alright, lock in your votes. Though I will say that floor length cocks are pretty boring. Unless you have a harem of worshipers at least. You think you wife would allow that?" She asked.

Garth shook his head, and lay back, looking up at the bright lights of the studio.

A few moments later, the votes were locked in, and Garth was ready to never walk again. There was no way that Masturbatory Ideal wouldn't win.

The blast this time was hugely more intense, and the energy flowed across his body, concentrating in his dick and balls. It was too strange to be called pleasurable, a deep soothing burn, and he felt blood rush to his dick. And keep rushing. He felt his balls start to push against his thighs and he shivered again as his cockhead suddenly felt the cool air as it pushed past the hem of his loincloth. He blushed and tried to cover himself up, knowing that it would be futile, but the sensation of his sweat slick hand on his dick just made it angry.

His purple trouser snake was growing into an anaconda, hardening into a spire of meat thicker than his bicep and longer than his forearm. It felt strange, a rush that never quite faded, even as more and more blood poured in, slowly darkening, alternatively softening and hardening, inches of length and girth being added in front of his eyes. Garth stared, dumbstruck at the thing between his legs, heavy fist sized balls practically pumping testosterone straight into his brain. It kept swelling, seemingly adding an inch with every heartbeat, until the tingling slowly shifted, spreading inside, working on his sensitive glands and straining muscles. It hung proudly, easily reaching his mouth, leaking a steady stream of pre, as his new nearly lube like sweat set it glistening in the lights.

Tiffany walked over, her own cock hard and dripping, "Hey, we're cock sisters!" She said, running a finger along Garth's glans, her other hand playing with her piss slit. Garth managed to tear his eyes away from the marvel between his legs, and laughed, stunned. She wasn't wrong, their cocks did look about the same size, even if it was terrifyingly huge on his current frame.

The big difference was the shape. Garth's mushroom had flattened and widened into a trumpet shape, while Tiffany's was just inhumanly large but mostly human, with thick finger sized veins running up and down the shaft, the heavy foreskin slickly sliding over the purple head, begging for someone to peel it back and lick everything clean...

Garth shook his head, trying to ignore how attractive that felt. It had come on slowly, but... he really liked how Tiffany looked. She'd always been pretty hot before, but now... it was all of her...

He gulped and squirmed, crossing his legs by learned reflex, covering nothing. Still, it did one thing, it unintentionally applied just enough pressure to spend sparks across his eyes. His cock spat happily, coating his face with sweet smelling cum.

Tiffany grinned knowingly, and Garth felt an unfamiliar wetness between his legs, as her hard cock bobbed against her straining shirt. He leaned back, looking up at the TV. Bulging in all the Right Places had won by a hair. Huh, guess the crowd was filled with Tiffany simps.

"Now onto question six, boob and vagina size." she said, leaning back in her stool and spreading her legs, sending Garth's aching spire to new heights. "Of course, they're going to be big, need to fit shit like this womb crusher." She reached up and grabbed her shaft lightly. "This is just to talk about exactly how big." On the screen three more options popped up. Apple bottom, bag of holding, cowgirl.

"Not quite the most interesting variety. Though the last girl to get the bag of holding did manage to steal her stool. This one's just not the same." She pat the stool Garth had started on fondly. "Did you catch my episode?"

Garth swallowed and nodded. Tiffany loved recounting her episode as the first winner. The male presenter hadn't quite been willing to contest her taking his job, after she showed up to his changing room and demonstrated how much she loved her new body. Apparently he still hung around in the same changing room to relieve her during the commercial breaks. Tiffany brushed her hair back, and looked at the teleprompter.

"Ooh, look at the time, we have a commercial break coming up. Don't change your channel, we'll be right back!" Tiffany said, bouncing in place, strings of pre arcing through the air.

The screens' options were replaced with the word Applause, and the crowd went wild.

Then the stage lights dimmed and Tiffany dashed off stage, while the crowd started eagerly chatting among each other.

The two technicians and a medic walked up to Garth. "How are you doing?" The medic asked, checking Garth's eyes with a flashlight, other hand on his wrist. "Your heart rate seems... a bit high. But you don't seem to be in shock?"

"Bit strained." Garth admitted. "Maybe lightheaded."

"Alright, let's get a unit of blood in you." The medic said, and the technicians started messing with the chair. The injection lines ran red, and Garth chest stopped aching as much. "Feeling better?"

"A bit... not sure how I'm supposed to feel right now." He felt his eye being drawn towards the medic's chest, and felt his dick jolt back to full hardness. "Is this thing ever going to go down?" He complained.

The medic smiled. "Probably not for the rest of the show. Assuming that you don't cum onstage. We have a shower area if you want to use it before going home." Garth groaned and closed his eyes, waiting for the break to be over. Then he heard a pair of running high heels, and opened an eye.

A moment later Dorothy appeared in front of him, cheeks flushed from the run from the VIP room. "Erm... you... you're looking nice." She said, eyes unable to meet his.

The air rushed out of Garth in something like a laugh. "Well... it feels nice... sorry... I didn't... you know... keep it under control..." He said, his new libido drawing his eyes to her like he was in college again. Her carefully tended auburn locks, her well shaped legs, her perfect face with those kissable lips...

"Oh... I'm sure we'll work through it... We've always managed it before... And don't feel bad, I like the new you!" She said, a bit forcefully, her blush redoubling. "I don't think I'll mind a few of the bigger changes... so don't feel too worried about it."

Garth nodded, his cock straining, dripping pre, so close to his wonderful smelling mate. He inhaled deeply, head swimming with her.

"Erm... I might have... tried a pheromone potion... just for the ride home. Wanted to make sure that you'd feel comfortable..." Dorthy's eyes slowly ran up Garth's body. She darted over to him, and gave him a kiss, leaving a pleasant tingle, before hurrying offstage, presumably back up to the VIP room.

One of the technicians chuckled. "Looks like you've got someone horny for that stallionhood." He said, watching the stunned Garth feeling his cheek, suddenly transported back 25 years. He couldn't respond.

After a few more minutes of checks, the medic and technicians left the stage, and Tiffany briskly walked back to the stage, her cock sated, back to being poorly hidden beneath the loincloth. She crossed over to Garth. "You doing alright? Sorry if I'm being a bit aggressive, it's all part of the character."

Garth blinked, surprised. "Erm, I think I'm doing alright... just a bit overwhelmed."

Tiffany laughed. "Well, you're reacting better than I've seen. And a little spy's been saying that your wife is quite enjoying the scene, barely able to keep her hands out of her clothes."

Garth jaw dropped. "What? But she always seemed so taciturn whenever..."

"Well, not many people want to tell their husband that they want to get their wombs turned inside out by a huge amazon cock." She grinned. "My hubby didn't want to admit it until season 4."

Garth was stunned, and looked up at the VIP booth. The lights turned on inside, and he could see his wife with her legs tightly crossed, staring right at him.

"Huh..." He said, arousal warring with confusion. Maybe she wasn't just putting on a good show...

"You two will get along great." Tiffany said kindly, then bounced back to her seat, as a producer timed the show back on the air. The cheering began again, and Tiffany spun around towards a camera.

She began in a deeper more authoritative voice

"And before the break, we had just shown Garth the next set of choices." They popped up again. "And which one are you going for?"

Garth's eyes went a bit wide. None of them exactly sounded appealing. He'd been hoping for another "girl next door" type offering... "I guess I'll go with Cowgirl? My wife likes amazon milk, maybe she can enjoy both types."

Garth imagined he could hear a squeak from the soundproof room, while Tiffany winced from the sudden loud moan that echoed through her headset.

"Always wished my girls were milky. Apparently the orgasms are awesome." Tiffany agreed, slipping back into presenter mode in a fraction of a second. The audience rapidly keyed in their own choices. "And onto the question. During the first showing of this show, what was the physical task?"

"Erm..." Garth hesitated. Usually it was something pretty demeaning, but the contestant was pretty OK with it at that point. The early seasons tended to shy away from that type of stuff though... it tried to be more highbrow, helping people attain their ideal body. He'd watched Tiffany's episode just in case, but... he couldn't remember it... "I'm going to go with there wasn't one."

Tiffany laughed. "So close, it was officially not cumming on stage. Set before the show." Her grin widened. "An extra twenty five thousand, and I blew it by number five. Something about trying to keep the show respectable."

Garth groaned, and looked up. Fortunately the crowd had fallen in behind Tiffany, again, and cowgirl had won solidly. He heard the chair start up again, and felt the cold enter his body, as sweat broke out across his already shining form. Then the energy blast hit again, and he felt his shirt start to strain.

He winced as his nipples suddenly reported in, happily rubbing against his dress shirt, and eager for more pressure. The rest of his chest was happy to comply, and the shirt creaked as mass poured into his chest. He grunted as it started to force air out of his lungs, and he easily ripped the shirt apart, panting as his new palm overflowing breasts heaved, glistening in the studio lights.

Then he felt his chest tingle again, as they started to feel... tight and heavy? He looked down, and saw that his nipples were hardening and lengthening, as his chest swelled just a bit more, starting to point down. A few moments later, the growth seemed to finish, and he was left with a pair of heavy breasts, clearly filled with milk, the nipples nearly the length of the first joint of his middle finger. Then the growth shifted to his ass, starting to lift him off the chair as the final swell of strong padding filled out his hourglass, his eager tunnel sending a growing length of pleasure as new nerves knit together and pushed deeper. And deeper. His cock caught between his sweat slick breasts, and it dangled in his face, the heavy pheromones making his head swim.

He couldn't help but thrust, his heavy balls swinging, giving his lips and clit room to grow, and grow they did. Two heavy mounds pushed out, pressing into his thighs as he felt his clit swell against his balls. His new canal was still pushing up, clearly intent on being able to take anything, leaving him gasping and moaning, as the pleasure crashed into the sparks radiating from his cock.

He came, his new muscles clamping down on his massive prostate, his balls eagerly dumping out the last of his old sperm, and his slit squirting on the waterproof chair as he gasped and moaned eagerly, his hands pressing his breasts together as he welcomed each new cumshot, filling his head with warm cotton and sweetness. He could barely ride the wave of crashing pleasure, and conscious thought or suspicious destroyed by the mind shattering joy.

Almost a minute later, he finally recovered enough to realize he should feel embarrassed and looked up. He was nearly naked, the useless loincloth barely able to cover his new animistic sheath and huge balls, his shirt torn in two, breasts large enough that fitting them back inside was a fantasy, covered in cum, girlcum, and, as he sniffed at his hand and forearm, milk.

And he felt fucking amazing.

"How did you enjoy that, Garth?" Tiffany asked, her cock hard again, lust burning in her eyes.

"You feel that every time?" He asked, leaning back into the chair, feeling the heft of his new assets.

"Oh, it gets even better." Tiffany promised. "Onto number seven. Fluids, almost reasonable, sweet and flowing, or pride of the herd."

Garth eagerly said "Pride of the herd." Then blinked, remembering a conversation from before the show. "Erm... I mean..."

"Sorry Garth, first choice is locked in." Tiffany said in a sing song voice, as the crowd eagerly agreed with Garth's decision.

Garth was feeling a bit conflicted. Sure, there was the decisions he'd made before the show, before his wife felt bad for him, but sitting here, basically naked, his muscles and breasts already getting catcalls from the boys (and some of the girls), his cock getting appreciative stares from the girls (and some of the boys), knowing they were just going to fill out and become more impressive, it was stroking something primal. He was already regretting those fangs, now, he wanted to properly mark and breed his wife and make sure she was nearly as milky and fertile as he knew he was.

His cock was momentarily sated, but he could feel his balls eagerly trying to fill them for the next load. From what he remembered in from health class, his new sperm was nearly as impressive as the rest of him, tens of billions of them dedicated for weeks on end to try to fertilize an egg. He moaned, loudly enough for his mic to pick it up.

"Hey lover boy, you still have a few questions left." Tiffany admonished. "Did you catch that?"

Garth shook his head dumbly.

"Ok, what are the odds of a normal female getting giving birth from one of your ejaculations?"

Garth moaned again, definitely feeling the influence of his suddenly much more eager other head. He tried to refocus, and looked at Tiffany. "Well, this thing is saying 100%... but I want to say 50%?"

"Ooh, so close. About 45%, nearly 50% better than they used to be. But I think you're not exactly going to be unhappy with those results." Tiffany said, looking up at the TVs. Pride of the Herd had won by a county mile.

It was the same sensation as before, cold, then the heat of energy. This time though, there wasn't much physical change, just a slow steady heat that spread through his groin, flowing from his balls through his prostate, lingering on his lips and tunnel, before finishing in his breasts, digging into his new sore milk ducts. They twitched and jumped, becoming denser and more efficient, making new connections with blood vessels, and thickening their tubes, ready to deal with much much more volume than nature had ever intended.

Garth could only really feel the heat, but resolved to spend a very pleasurable afternoon staring at the show provided animations of what had happened to him. Still, he swore he could feel his balls starting to churn, their activity turned up to 11 and nailed there.

He looked up at Tiffany, eager for whatever they decided to give him this time.

"And that's where I made it before getting too distracted to continue. The results can still be watched on Pay Per View under the title 'Yes, I fucking love being an Amazon.' You still going for the grand prize?"

Garth nodded eagerly.

"Alright then, time for oh, a complex list of behaviors, attitudes, kinks, and relationships all bundled up into 'dominance'." Power Bottom, Yes, and Breeder popped onto the screen. The audience inputs were fairly spread, tending a bit towards Breeder. "And you would like?" Tiffany asked.

Garth's nipples were hard and leaking, he was sweating, swimming in a pheromonal haze, and his cock hardening until it was right there in front of his face, balls already eagerly begging to be emptied. He groaned. "Yes?" He asked, a bit confused, trying to focus on the huge amazon in front of him, his slit begging to be filled.

Tiffany smiled knowingly. "Alright, Yes is locked in. Now for the question. What's the world record for heaviest squat?"

Garth thought for a few moments. Then settled on the default. "That's a trick question?" He said, unable to hide the uncertain tilt, more than half his mind completely scattered.

Tiffany's grin widened. "Good guess. There's a lot of ways to measure it. We're going to need to get a judge call."

A moment passed. "The judges have accepted it." Tiffany said, then looked down at the producer.

The by now expected wave of cold and heat washed over Garth, but he didn't really notice much, other than his lust still growing, though that could have been from a number of factors. The audience was starting to flush, and occasional moans could be heard, as the camera crew tried to deal with sudden waves of arousal as his sweat glands worked overtime to get someone to fuck. They remained mostly professional, though the producer was on a call with Dorthy, asking what to do if Garth couldn't respond.

There was a terse conversation, and the producer wrote something on the board, before showing it to Tiffany. She read it and nodded.

"Garth, if you can't pay attention, you're going to need to pull out. You've got 1/4th of the final prize. You think you can make it to the end?"

Garth blinked and raised his head from where he'd been lapping at his own pre, thick shaft wedged between his breasts, heavy nipples dripping milk. "Fuck... yeah... need to win. Dorthy is counting on me."

He shook his head, and tried not to let anything touch each other too much, trying to spread his legs and let his cock fight against gravity.

"Alright, two more questions. Then you can relieve yourself for as long as you need." Tiffany said quietly, mic muted. Then turned it back on, and shifted back into her announcer voice. "Alright, we're definitely looking to see how much the switchy cowgirl herd master can pump out, but onto the next question. Number 9, potency. How powerful are your balls, tits, and pheromones going to be?"

Knock em' dead, a delicate bouquet, and pure force of personality appeared on the screens. Garth wasn't too familiar with these, most people pulled out before this point, the mental and... less overt physical changes were usually considered a bit creepy. Especially the stuff that could result in addiction, since it was pretty tightly controlled. Still... bouquet sounded nice...

"Heh, that sounds like a type of wine, let's go with delicate bouquet." Garth was trying not to look at Tiffany, just staring up in the air, his cock slowly drooping, trying to breath through his mouth. He could still taste the heavy musk of sex though... He shook his head, trying to refocus.

The crowd had mostly chosen Knock 'em Dead.

Tiffany nodded. "Alright, your next question, and saying it's a trick question won't work for this one. What's the oldest Amazon owned business?"

"Do the temples count as businesses?" Garth managed, pretty sure he knew the answer, and could say it in his sleep. It was one of the major tourist attractions of the capital.

"They do not."

"In that case, Liz and Daniels'." Garth said.

"Correct, and the original tavern is still open and run by one of their descendants." Tiffany confirmed, as the chair started up again.

Then the room became hushed. The last question was probably the most life altering, since it severely limited what someone could do afterwards. A stupidly overcranked libido could be managed, infectiousness really couldn't.

Tiffany cleared her throat. "Garth, time for the final question, are you still ready to go through with it?"

Garth nodded, his cock finally deflated enough not to be in his line of sight. "Yeah, we agreed on this."

The last three options popped up on screen. Immune, Innoculated, Carrier. This one got a fairly even spread as well, but not many people apply for tickets for a transformation show if they don't have a bit of a kink. Carrier won, as it nearly always had in the past. "Immune" Garth said, trying not to imagine Dorthy swelling underneath him, slowly growing her own shaft so massive it could plug him all night long. They'd agreed before, and he was going for it.

"Alright Garth, we've got a physical and mental challenge. Guess how much you're going to cum. If you're within an order of magnitude, without going over, you win. If not... then the closest audience member gets to choose."

Garth blinked, his head trying to work through that. "So... what you're asking whether it's 9.9 ml, 99 ml, or 999 ml?" Tiffany smiled and nodded.

"Fine, 99 ml. Not like I'm going to cum 20 times more than I used to." He laughed. Tiffany shrugged, trying to to reveal anything.

"Is that your final answer?"

Garth thought about it and nodded. And he could grab his dick and try to stop it. No rules there. The screen shifted, to a bar graph where people could input their guesses, ranging from 0 to 1000. It rapidly filled, most of it in the 100-400 range, since Garth took anything less. A few people who misunderstood the rules guessed in the 50s, and very few choose under 10. An arrow pointed to a very optimistic someone who had chosen over 1000 ml.

The two technicians lugged a large fleshlight looking thing with a 1000 ml collector at the end out to Tiffany who took it and walked over to Garth, hips swaying, chest bulging, cock dripping as she got nearer and nearer to the source of the potent musk filling her stage.

She slowly eased it over his cock, which stiffened instantly at the warm softness, and started gently thrusting it up and down, her cock pinned between the two of them, her breasts mashing against his pair. She slowly unbuttoned the top few buttons, revealing a mile of cleavage. Garth's eyes were fixed. You'd think that after growing his own massive pair, and being able to feel sparks of pleasure shoot through his leaking nipples as they dragged against the silk, a little cleavage wouldn't do much but... looking up at the taller Amazon, taking care of him, tenderness in her eyes... she reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.

He squeaked, and he felt his lower body clench, as a spurt blasted out of his cock and into the collection bag. He retained enough mental power to see that it filled to around the 50 ml mark.

"Ooh, nice blast of pre." Tiffany said in his ear, appreciatively. Garth nodded and leaned back, happy that he'd won.

"Wait, pre?" He asked, feeling the lust and pressure still building, Tiffany starting to make fully body thrusts, her breasts bouncing. "Wait, oh fuck."

Tiffany slowed down into a sensuous rhythm, "What? You want me to stop? You want me to say that's how much you came." She grinned, a glint of edge sparking in her eye, as she tortured new Amazon in front of her. "We both know you're hung like a stallion, and can cum like a firehose. Come on, you stud!' She moaned, her cock basting Garth's face. Being called a stud and the sudden potent scent made him scream in orgasm, as he felt his prostate swell, and his balls pull up, the pressure becoming unbearable as his changed biology pushed him towards the edge and over.

He came like a horse. Then again and again. Blast after blast traveling down his sensitive slab of amazon meat and pouring into the collector, filling it past 75, then past 90. He grabbed his cock trying to stop it, but the sudden sensation just sent sparks across his eyes, and he totally lost control. Then he lost track of the number of blasts, just feeling them ripple past his fingers, as his cunt begged for something, anything, to clamp down on, squirting onto the chair as his breasts ruined Tiffany's clothes. She kept undulating, trying to milk every milliliter of cum out of him, her own cock unloading on the two.

What felt like minutes later, he felt his cock starting to calm down, the orgasm starting to recede, and he managed to open his eyes, looking with dismay at the collector. It was... about 50 ml? He looked around in confusion, and saw a fully loaded collector on the ground, being carefully capped and labeled by a technician, and heard the chair's pump shift, as it stopped supplying him with as much saline as his body could manage.

"Well... that's a record for this show." Tiffany said. "1043 cubic centimeters. Over 200 times what you probably used to cum." She was covered in her own cum, and Garth could feel where she'd rubbed her crotch against his leg. He was soaked.

"Guess that's a kink of yours?" He asked, a bit sarcastically, his head feeling a lot clearer after that massive orgasm. "So what happens now?"

"Closest without going over gets to choose your result." Tiffany said, and the identity was revealed, Dorothy. Moments later, the VIP light turned on, revealing her with a hand down the front of her pants and the other underneath her shirt. She started, trying to pull her hands out, and the screen revealed her choice. Carrier.

Garth blinked, as he felt the chair start up again, releasing the final mutagenic load into his body. The crowd cheered their approval, and Tiffany sat back down, as Garth froze, surprised.

***

Garth and Dorothy sat in the back of an Amazon equipped taxi, Garth's cock finally under control after spraying down the inside of a shower. Dorothy had sat outside, head firmly turned away from her husband's new form.

Still, Garth wasn't too surprised when he saw that her skirt was soaked through.

"So... you wanted something like this?" He asked, lifting his breasts through the branded shirt the studio had given him to go home in. Dorthy nodded slowly, eyes fixed on him.

"I... I... you're really good looking." She finally managed, breaking eye contact with him.

"You know... you could have told me..." Garth said.

"I... didn't want you to... feel like you needed to hurt yourself for me... You were already doing so much..." Dorthy said, leaning into him.

"Oh... honey." He said, leaning into her, nearly pushing her against the wall. "Oops, sorry..." He began, then looked at his wife.

Her cheeks were flushed, her nipples were poking through the tight shirt she'd been wearing underneath the heavy jacket now on the floor, and she was looking at him in pure adoration. He was taken aback, then smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

She grabbed him and kissed back with abandon, with more need than she'd ever shown before. He smiled as he inhaled her delectable scent, looking forward to exploring his new self with his newly discovered minx.

She just moaned, head barely able to wrap around what she'd lucked into, just like her futile attempts to hold his massive wombcrushing shaft.

She couldn't wait to get him home.