Mei Ling vs. the Clown Pounder

What could bring more joy than a silly clown taking a pie in the face?

Prologue

On a bright, windy day in late October, Mei Ling scurried across a grey concrete yard towards the door of a cobalt-blue industrial building. It wasn’t too far a walk from the tube station, but she was very glad of her snug, fleece-lined parka.

She buzzed at the door marked GW Enterprises, and from inside, Janice briskly confirmed her identity on the door-cam. Gratefully, she stepped across the threshold into the warm foyer. It was only the third time she’d ever been here. But the document she carried, neatly folded in the back pocket of her jeans, was about to ensure it wouldn’t be the last.

Alexa didn’t keep her waiting long. She’d barely had time to hang up her coat, settle on the couch and open her Insta stories, when she heard a warm greeting. “Mei Ling, you gorgeous thing. So nice to see you!”

Mei Ling stood, and they shared a cheek-kiss and a hug. She politely declined coffee, and they headed into Alexa’s private office. Autumnal light streamed in through the large windows as they both took a comfortable seat around a low table, Alexa pouring them glasses of water.

“Sounds like it’s blowing a gale out there! Really appreciate you coming in.”

“Oh, it’s no bother. I had a few clients cancel, so it’s a quiet week.”

It was always a little unexpected treat when people texted Mei Ling to cancel their personal training appointments with her. They’d paid up-front for six months anyway, so she wouldn’t be out of pocket. And this meeting was set to provide her with an additional, very welcome, income stream.

“Glad to hear you’re not too rushed off your feet. I just think a little face-to-face chat is always important at this stage. Iron out any worries or concerns.”

Mei Ling nodded, and sipped her water.

“I, uh, brought the contract. Obviously.”

She sat up a little, and eased the thing out of her back pocket, handing it over. Alexa took it, unfolded its quarters, and placed it down on the table, smoothing it out slightly. Mei Ling got a pang of embarrassment - perhaps she should have presented this important document with a little more ceremony. From a smart briefcase, or something. But Alexa didn’t seem to mind.

“No second thoughts, then? I wouldn’t mind, you know. It’s not for everyone.”

“It took a bit of mulling over, that’s for sure. But last time - the thing with Faye - it was, uh…”

Mei Ling trailed off, lost in her thoughts. “Fun?” suggested Alexa.

A little bark of laughter at the understatement. “Yeah. Fun. I watched some more past episodes, too. Finally. Lotta fun going on.”

“That’s certainly what we’re aiming for.”

They shared a knowing look. Mei Ling was no shrinking violet, but there was just a little flutter in her stomach. That was inevitable when in the same room as Alexa, though. When you knew what she could do to you.

“Shall we talk about the next filming, then?”

“Sure thing.”

“Great. Now, I hope this won’t come as a disappointment, but the roster slots for games and skits are already full. So you’ll be in the audience, this time at least.”

She shrugged, and nodded. It wasn’t a disappointment as such, but it was a bit of a surprise. She’d expected Alexa to pounce on her accession to Main Cast, and instantly throw her in the deep end, quite literally. But the explanation was clear enough, and she knew her time would come soon.

“Of course, as you’re well aware,” continued Alexa, “the only certainty-”

“Is uncertainty.”

Alexa grinned at her. That’s my girl.

“Quite right. Well, it seems like you know very well what you’re getting into. Shall I make this official?”

“Please.”

With that, Alexa plucked an elegant fountain pen from a nearby holder, turned to the back page, and put her signature underneath Mei Ling’s.

“There we are then. A real pleasure to say this: Mei Ling, welcome to Main Cast. Your ass is now officially mine. Amongst other things.”

It was said with a saucy wink, and a warm, friendly smile. But nevertheless, it sent a little shiver of trepidation and excitement down Mei Ling’s spine. She let out a halting laugh, looking down at the floor, finally betraying those nerves. “I suppose so…”

“Will you stay for a drink before you go? The bar’s serving mulled cider. We may have filmed the Halloween ep already, but in the real world, it’s still spooky season, as the kids say.”

“I was so gutted to miss that one. Oh, that huge cauldron - how many people did you dunk in the end?”

“Thirteen, I believe. Unlucky for some…”

I: Remote Control

Mei Ling swallowed the last of her red wine, then stood to join the rest of the chattering crowd, as they headed back towards the studio floor.

The first half of the recording had been tremendous fun. Alexa was joined on set by Sally this time, and Mei Ling always enjoyed their repartee as co-hosts, honed by a decade of marriage and messy mayhem. There was a gimmick, too: normally, the studio audience were asked to leave their phones backstage, to avoid the risk of a surprise gunge-shower bricking someone’s device. Nobody needed that hassle. But for this episode, all the segments contained some kind of interactive element, the audience making choices via their phone.

First up had been Gunge Court. A boyfriend-girlfriend couple detailed their domestic squabbles, while Sally - dressed in an amusingly cheap judge’s outfit - presided. The centrepiece of the courtroom was, of course, an ornate gunge tank. After all the flirty cross-examinations, loud heckling, and cries of “order!” from a gavel-happy Sally, it was Marvin, a handsome and hench Black man, whom the jury sent to that very small, slimy prison cell.

The gunge tank turned out to be filled with cool, gloopy custard. Purely, of course, so that Sally could enjoy delivering the hoary old pun: “you will be remanded in custardy!”

Marvin grimaced his way through his short, sharp, sticky sentence. And Mei Ling very much enjoyed the sight of a well-dressed, hunky chap getting a gooey punishment - it wasn’t too common here at GungeWorld. Bad idea to say she’s got too many shoes, mate, she thought. You were doomed from the start. Cute though.

Next, the mob were turned on each other. Every guest was presented with a series of head-to-head matchups, two pictures of their fellow audience members appearing on their phone screen, along with a virtual pie that could be flung at one of them. This led to a minute or so of frantic, excited babble. Mei Ling was a little worried this might end badly for her, seeing as she was new to MC, yet still squeaky clean this evening. At one point, she saw her own face pop up on the screen of Alianne, who was sitting next to her.

“Don’t you dare - oh you bitch! I hope I get you next!”

Alianne just poked out her tongue at her, and kept swiping pies. “Hee hee!”

When the bedlam stopped, the pies were tallied. After a tense drum roll, Alexa announced that Sophia, a diminutive Spanish cutie, had earned the most flannings. She was outraged, naturally, cursing up a storm at her treasonous friends as Alexa plucked her out of her seat. Inevitably, her tally of 37 virtual pies became real ones, a merciless and spectacular barrage of thick, creamy splatters to the face as she sat squirming on a tall stool.

Mei Ling remembered that Sophia had taken part in one of the Halloween trivia games, getting off incredibly lightly by GungeWorld standards thanks to some super-lucky guesses - just a couple of buckets of slime. That’ll explain it then. Karma!

The final game before the break saw Eve, the sparkling and sassy New York gal, perched in a skimpy bikini above a classic gunk-dunking vat, thick and oozy and blue. She was taking on the audience in a multiple-choice quiz. For every correct answer, Eve would earn a prize - but if 50% of the crowd picked the right answer, she’d get a shower of gunge from above.

The questions were only moderately taxing, which meant Eve won a good clutch of prizes, but also got extremely sloppy. And, because her final score was beaten by the wisdom of the crowd, it was into the slimy pond with her, to the audience’s proud applause.

End of Part One, then, and cameras cold. Half an hour to stretch legs, quench thirsts, and powder noses.

Mei Ling was fascinated to see what clever use of their phones Alexa and Sally would come up with after the interval. Maybe they’d get to choose the type of mess for some unfortunate contestant, or virtually strip some clothes off - things always got raunchier in the second half.

As soon as she’d ordered her Malbec, she felt a tap on the shoulder, and turned around to see Faye.

She felt her cheeks redden immediately. Here she was - that flirty, fuckable firecracker who’d made her cum, hard and repeatedly, in the sticky embrace of a giant pie. The reason she was here again, the reason she’d handed Alexa that contract a couple of weeks ago.

It wasn’t a crush, exactly. Of course, Faye was gorgeous, but who here wasn’t? It was more a defining memory, a turning point.

Swallowing down all those rushing thoughts with a healthy gulp of wine, Mei Ling just smiled, and moved in for a hug.

“Hello you!”

“So a little bird told me you’re MC now…”

Faye put an arm around her shoulder, and guided her to a low table, a few of GungeWorld’s most insatiably kinky women seated around it.

Alexa discouraged hierarchy and cliques among the cast. Those willing to do messier, raunchier things on camera got paid more, that much was true. But she was very clear that everyone who made GungeWorld happen - from the cleaners and admin staff, to the one-time guests, to the longtime horny gunge-sluts - deserved the same level of respect.

So this little impromptu meeting wasn’t some kind of induction or hazing, as Mei Ling had briefly feared - just a friendly welcome to Main Cast. Plus a bit of good-natured teasing about how mad Mei Ling must be to let Alexa do whatever she pleased with her.

It was a pleasant and relaxing way to spend the break, all told, though she quietly regretted that it left no time to flirt with the cute guys. Ah well - maybe after the show.

Before she knew it, Alexa’s commanding voice was ringing out over the PA, calling them all back into the studio. Mei Ling found her seat again, and settled in for Part Two.

II: Market Research

The Stagehands had been busy during the break, rolling the great moveable set-pieces offstage, and efficiently cleaning up any remaining gloppy splatters. For the moment, there was nothing much to see, though everyone in attendance knew that soon enough, a wall or floor would open up to reveal something naughty and absurd.

After a brief and breezy welcome back from the hosts, it was time to plough on with the show.

“Phones out, my darlings,” commanded Alexa. “Time for an opinion poll! Three questions for you. Voting is mandatory, like in Australia.”

Mei Ling watched the first question pop up on her screen, and Alexa helpfully narrated it out loud for the viewers at home.

“Which of the following would you rather be sploshed with? Gunge, pies, or chocolate? Simple enough - everyone’s got a preference, haven’t they?”

Quiet giggles echoed through the crowd as the guests made their choices. Mei Ling’s took barely a second. That deliciously humiliating squelch of a hefty cream flan to the face - or elsewhere. It made her happy just to think about it.

Sally watched a vote tracker on her own device, updating Alexa on how many had completed the task. “90 percent… 96… there we go.”

“Good good. Next question! Which costume would you rather wear for a session of messy fun? French maid, cheerleader, or clown? And yes, boys, you have to choose as well. There are certainly a few of you who I’d love to see in a frilly little number…”

This was a tougher choice. Cheerleader didn’t appeal, though Mei Ling certainly had the physique to pull it off. French maid was a classic, and she’d worn that costume to a house party once before - with intent, and with very successful results. But this was no time to dwell on that pleasant memory of getting firmly screwed while bent over a spare-room dressing table.

It had to be clown, didn’t it? This was GungeWorld, after all, where slapstick was the stock in trade. Everything they did was clowning, in a sense, even if it didn’t involve the clothes and makeup. (Sometimes it did, of course - Mei Ling had seen a spectacular clown-girl showdown in a previous episode, which she’d found amazingly alluring, so joyful and comical and kinky.)

Plus, she’d never dressed up as a clown herself. As she pressed the option on her screen, she made a mental note to try that as soon as possible. I bet I’d look damn sexy.

“Final question! I know plenty of you enjoy a little bondage to go with your mess. But which of these would you rather be trapped in? Ropes, handcuffs, or manacles?”

They certainly weren’t being prudish here, and the giggles around Mei Ling grew louder. Another non-trivial choice to weigh up. Rope play could definitely be super hot. But a nice solid clasp around the wrists, or the ankles, or both… mmm, that was the stuff. She tapped her final choice of manacles into the phone.

“That’s nearly everyone… Yes, there we go. Votes are all in.”

“Lovely, thank you Sally. Now - would you like to tell them why we asked?”

Her partner smiled broadly. “With pleasure, my love. You see, we’ve got a rather spectacular new device to reveal. Never used before on the show. So it needs someone to test it out.”

Nobody in the audience was daft enough to think those poll questions were asked with innocent intentions. But Sally’s frank explanation was still creating plenty of nervous laughter.

“And we wanted to make sure our guinea pig would really enjoy the experience. Shall we show them what it is?”

“Oh, I think so.” Alexa waved an arm theatrically, towards the centre of the set’s pale pink back wall, which had a large semi-cylindrical bulge in it.

The cylinder began to slide open, a crack appearing from its base to its top, about fifteen feet high. Through the opening, brighter, bolder colours were immediately visible, contrasting with the pastel of the set. It looked a little darker in there too, with coloured spotlights swishing about. Dry ice spilled out of the widening aperture.

The PA burst into life, playing an ominously slow and laboured rendition of Julius Fučík’s Entrance of the Gladiators. Or, as it was much more commonly known these days, ‘you know, that circus song.’

Everyone who had chosen the cheerleader or French maid outfits suddenly had a very smug look on their face. Everyone else: not so much.

It was now clear that what lay behind the wall was a circus tent - of sorts, anyway. Rather than being a free-standing canvas structure, it was instead a large round hollow in the studio wall, with a canvas canopy, open wide, at the front. The interior of the hollow, and the draped canopy, were both patterned in wide stripes of red and yellow.

Two more things caught the collective eye. Firstly, there was the chair. Sitting centrally, near the back wall of the tent, was that old GungeWorld favourite, a comfy-looking black leather seat. But this one had a notable difference from the standard model, one that set Mei Ling’s heart racing. Affixed to the chair’s arms were two padded, bright red manacles. And on a footrest at the bottom sat two more.

Then there was the name. Affixed to the top of the arch was an impressively realistic model of a giant cream pie, at least ten feet wide. Large white capital letters, illuminated from within, poked up out of its fake fluffy topping. Scandalised laughter flowed through the crowd once the full title was visible.

THE CLOWN POUNDER

At this point, it was taking all of Mei Ling’s concentration to keep her breathing steady and a calm look on her face.

I think you could be in a spot of trouble here, Mei-Mei.

Once the Clown Pounder was fully revealed, the music faded down a little, while the two hosts spent a moment drinking in the mostly-excited, partly-horrified energy of the audience.

“Well then, Sally. I believe we’re looking for someone who loves a good pieing, looks great in clown makeup, and doesn’t mind being manacled to a chair. Is there anyone who fits the bill?”

“Yes indeed,” replied Sally, looking down at her tablet. “Four of them, in fact.”

(This was a lie of omission - actually, nine of the audience had chosen those exact options. Only four of them, however, had signed away their protection from being fully, messily annihilated.)

The revelation only made Mei Ling’s thoughts race faster. Four! How are they going to pick? Or are we all going to get it? And what exactly are we going to get?

“Excellent! And am I right in thinking that you have a random select button there in front of you?”

“Certainly do. Shall we find our lucky test-driver?”

“Take it away, babe.”

When Sally tapped the screen, the studio lights suddenly dimmed to a dark blue gloom. And as a bright spotlight swept in loops over the crowd, Mei Ling’s brain waged an all-out war with itself.

Don’t pick me, don’t pick me, please don’t pick me, I wasn’t ready for this, it’ll definitely be cruel and humiliating and filthy, I’ll look so silly as a clown girl, what if they’re extra-mean because it’s my first time, well not my first time, but…

Pick me, pick me, please pick me, paint my face, strap me in, strip me naked and pie me fucking senseless, destroy me, make me splutter and squirm and scream, turn me into a quivering little clown slut pie whore, please, please, please…

The wandering spotlight froze in place. Under its harsh beam, Mei Ling’s face contorted into a pained wince.

Her neighbours let out a schadenfreude-drenched cheer, as Alexa confirmed the news. “We’ve crowned our clown! Up you get Mei Ling, come over here…”

While the studio lights faded up again, and the crowd around her clapped and whooped, Mei Ling made her way out of the stands.

Hold on, she thought, is this a fix?

No, it can’t be. I could have chosen something else. Wait - what if they had multiple sets ready to reveal, depending on which ones I picked? That’d be ridiculous, though, surely not. Has Alexa been doing a Derren Brown on me, maybe? Have I been neuro-linguistically programmed?

Christ, I don’t bloody know. Maybe it’s actually plain old luck of the draw.

There was no more time for worry, anyway. She’d reached the hosts, who indicated she should stand between them for now.

“These are a few of her favourite things…” sang Sally in a quiet coo, while Mei Ling situated herself, hands clasped behind her back, glancing sideways from one host to the other and back again.

“Mei Ling, sweetie dearest! So nice to see you again. Big fan of clowning then, I take it?”

She shuffled in place, her cheeks hot. “Um… I’ve never really done it before…”

“Oh really? But you did choose the clown outfit - why was that?”

“Just… just thought it might be fun?”

“Fair enough! Well, you’re about to get the chance to find out. Ready to run away with the circus, Mei Ling?”

“Mph, I guess…”

Sally chimed in. “Not looking like that, though!”

There hadn’t been any special dress-code instructions for this episode, so everyone in the audience was following the usual vibe - wear something nice, but not too showy. In Mei Ling’s case, this was a shiny, cream-coloured top with a modest neckline, and comfortable, well-fitting blue jeans. She looked down at herself, how normal she looked. That clearly wasn’t going to last long.

“This is a job for makeup and wardrobe, I think. We’ll keep this lot entertained until you get back.”

A Stagehand, whom Mei Ling recognised as Missy, strolled towards her. Smiling, she gently slipped her arm inside Mei Ling’s, ready to walk her offstage.

“Take her away!” shouted Alexa, with a glee that made Mei Ling’s legs twitch. “And don’t bring her back until she looks hilarious!”

III: The Smell of the Greasepaint…

Missy knocked on the backstage door, then pushed it open without waiting for an answer and poked her head in, Mei Ling waiting behind her.

“Special delivery! One cutie, in need of urgent clownification!”

“Ah lovely,” replied an unfamiliar voice. “Bring her in, we’ll take care of her…”

With a cheeky wink goodbye, Missy departed to attend to Stagehand duties elsewhere, leaving Mei Ling to stroll into the spacious, brightly-lit dressing room.

Two blonde white women stood by a salon chair in front of a large mirror, both welcoming her with a smile and a wave. “Hiya babes. I’m Lucy G, this is Lucy B. Don’t think we’ve met.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty new here. Mei Ling, nice to meet you,” she said, greeting them both with a friendly hug.

“We’ve got about twenty minutes,” said Lucy G, the taller and slightly curvier of the two. Her voice had a rich Essex twang. “Should be plenty of time. You alright to pop the outfit on first, my darlin’? Don’t wannit gettin’ smeared with the makeup.”

“Uh, sure.”

“It’s just behind there - give us a shout if we haven’t got your size right, or you need a hand zippin’ up.”

There was a folding screen in the room’s corner. As she headed towards it, Lucy G remembered something, and called after her, sounding a tad apologetic.

“Oh, and it’ll be knickers ‘n’ bra off, if you please. Boss’s orders.”

Welp, thought Mei Ling. Can’t say I’m too surprised.

She stepped behind the screen. When she saw the single piece of clothing that hung on the rack back there, she let out a shocked laugh. “Bwah! Holy…”

“Don’t worry,” came an amused-sounding reply from the other side of the screen. “You’re gonna look gooorgeous, I promise…”

It was a corset-style dress, looking snug at the top, then ballooning out into a wide skirt at the bottom. The chest-piece was white, with a large red pom-pom in its centre. The waist section was a harlequin pattern, colourful diamonds stacked atop each other in yellow, green, purple and red. The skirt was double-layered: on top, a black-and-white stripe, and then poking out underneath, a frill of fancy red lace.

Yeah, I’m gonna look the part, at least.

They were on deadline, so she had little choice but to get on with it, unzipping her jeans, then pulling her top over her head, folding them both neatly and placing them on a small table by the rack. She reached back to unclasp her bra, noticing a slight stiffness in her nipples as she eased it off. Pulling down and discarding her knickers, she stood with her hands on hips in front of the full-length mirror, taking a moment to appreciate her naked form.

She hadn’t always liked her body. Her parents, though they meant well, had a habit of calling her sturdy, which of course was exactly what a hormonal teenage girl wanted to hear. But there was some truth to it: she had steady legs, strong shoulders, and a low centre of gravity. At university she’d taken to Taekwondo like a duck to water, winning a couple of regional competitions. And her personal training job kept her in excellent shape - she needed to be au fait with all types of regimes, from strength to cardio.

Of course, she wasn’t about to take a fitness test. This was something entirely different. Putting herself in the shoes of a kinky viewer, she appraised her sex appeal, too. Juicy thighs and a round arse - those were probably, she reflected, her most valuable assets. Smooth, fairly pale skin, large green eyes, and silky umber hair that flowed over her shoulders. And though she couldn’t compete with some of GungeWorld’s bustiest, bounciest ladies, she still liked her boobs, good-sized squishy handfuls that rested flat against her chest.

No time to be distracted, Mei Ling. Let’s get this stupid thing on.

It wasn’t too much of a struggle - it actually fit rather well. She stepped into the top, then pulled it up over her bust, and reached round to the back, managing to zip herself in. It wasn’t comfortable, per se, but this was showbusiness after all. She actually quite liked how it hugged her chest and belly.

Looking back to the mirror, she adjusted the top a little, enjoying the modest but noticeable cleavage that it gave her. She placed her hands on her waist, just above the skirt, and gave it a little swish, this way and that. But she knew the look was wholly incomplete without the makeup.

She indulged a devilish thought, and reached forward to grasp the front of the skirt. Then, smirking, she lifted it upwards, flashing her pussy at the mirror. She enjoyed the sight of her plump labia and neat bush under this silly, kinky costume, the contrast between raw sex and layered euphemism.

Right then. Time to get clowned up.

“Here I am,” she said with a game smile, stepping out.

Both of the Lucies seemed to perk up at the sight, G giving her a little clap. “Aw, it fits lovely. Super super sexy. I love your legs, darlin’. C’mere, let’s get you ready.”

Mei Ling settled into the chair, the puffy skirt presenting some difficulty at first. She tried to relax, and this was made easier by the friendly company. She quickly gathered that Lucy G was in charge of makeup, and Lucy B hair.

“Whatcha reckon, Luce - can you do her a quick pigtail plait?”

“Noice idea,” came the reply, in a Brummie accent as thick as treacle. Mei Ling swallowed down a laugh - Lucy B had been quiet until now, and she was not expecting that at all. Thankfully, it seemed to go unnoticed.

“That alroight with you, pet?”

“Up to you! You’re the experts…”

The fifteen minutes that followed were a lot more fun, and funny, than Mei Ling had been expecting. She was playfully told off a few times, for giggling when Lucy G was trying to do a delicate part of the makeup. It didn’t help that the Essex lass had a lovely broad sense of humour, responding to Mei Ling’s polite questions about how she got the gig as GungeWorld’s makeup artist.

“Well, I got gunged, didn’t I? My friend - fucking Tina, that cow - said she had this modelling gig that paid really well. I was doin’ a bit of glamour stuff at the time, and you know me - well, you don’t know me, but anyway - I’m up for anything. Least I thought I was. End up with me tits out, totally bloody covered in green gunge, everyone laughin’ at me. The swamp thing, I looked like. Absolute nightmare.”

“Didn’t enjoy it, then?”

“Enjoy it? You jokin’? Look, no judgement, honest, I swear. I know everyone’s got a thing. But you wouldn’t catch me dead in a gunge tank again. I said as much to Alexa, and she was like, ‘fair enough.’ She had an opening for a makeup artist, though. ‘No gunge,’ she said, but I read that contract like a bloody hawk, let me tell you…”

Mei Ling watched in fascination as her look came together. First, of course, came a full face of bright white. The makeup wasn’t as thick as she’d feared, and it felt like her skin could still breathe, which was a relief. “Yeah, it’s the expensive stuff…”

Next came blue diamonds over her eyes, and then the big, exaggerated red mouth. Mei Ling tested it out once Lucy G had finished, smiling and pouting, making them all laugh - as was her job now, she supposed. A little circular pink blush was added to her cheeks, some thick black eyebrows, and lots of mascara.

All the while, Lucy B was expertly addressing her hair, gathering it into two halves and going hand-over-hand, working it astonishingly quickly into a couple of good-looking plaited pigtails. When she was finished, they hung just above her shoulders, bound at the tips by hair ties with little red pom-poms on them. Mei Ling was seriously impressed with the speed. Royal blue streaks, painted onto her locks with some kind of temporary dye, added to the look.

The makeup was finished a little before the hair - this freed up Lucy G to paint her nails. Fingers and toes both got a spruce-up with quick-drying nail polish, in a rainbow of colours. Mei Ling really liked this little touch.

“Right, my lovely - last thing. The red noses.”

That was a weird plural. “Noses?”

Lucy G laughed. “A makeup one and a real one. Just in case the real one falls off, like. For some reason.”

Mei Ling snorted with laughter. “Oh, like if I get hit in the face with a custard pie, or something.”

“Or something.”

“But I bet that won’t happen.”

“Nah, course not, babes!”

Lucy G painted a round red tip on Mei Ling’s nose, then reached into a drawer of the dresser beneath the mirror, brandishing a foamy red orb the size of a clementine.

“The classic! I’m gonna put a bit of stage glue on this - give it more of a chance. The glue’ll come off afterwards. All good?”

“All good. Nose me up.”

A little application of sticky stuff, and then the round red nose was plonked onto her face. Once again, Mei Ling couldn’t help giggling.

“Wow.”

“D’you like it, darlin’?”

“Um… not sure!” said Mei Ling, then suddenly realised it might sound ungrateful. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean… ah, you did an amazing job! It’s just…”

“You look like a clown?”

“I look like a clown.”

“Sexy clown, though,” said Lucy G with an appreciative nod.

Mei Ling nodded back.

“Sexy clown, though.”

IV: …the Roar of the Crowd

They’d used the allotted time to its full. Mei Ling stood up, and gave a few little twirls and poses to entertain her beautifiers, but was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Missy’s impertinent face poking in again.

“Collection! One dirty clown-slut needed… on… s… on set…”

Missy had clapped eyes on the new-look Mei Ling mid-sentence, and it had quite interrupted her cheeky demeanour.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, shamelessly looking the clown girl up and down. “That’ll certainly fit the bill.”

This was a welcome confidence boost for Mei Ling, and she tilted her head, flirting a little.

“Like it?”

“Yes I do. Doubt I’ll be the only one, either. You ready?”

“Suppose so.”

She took a quick moment to hug and thank the Lucies, who both blew kisses after her and wished her luck. “Break a leg, sweetie!”

When Missy had led her to the makeup room, she’d still felt abashed and nervous, shuffling through the corridors. Now, Mei Ling was fizzing with energy - she found herself doing strange little skips along the floor, exaggerated hand gestures, as they navigated back towards the stage floor.

“Someone’s excited!” snarked Missy, amused.

Mei Ling faltered for a moment, her reverie interrupted. “Ah! No, it’s just…”

“It’s just you’re in a hot clown outfit and it’s making you horny?”

“Hey! It’s not…”

They walked along in silence together for a few paces. Mei Ling sighed, and gave a resigned shrug.

“Yeah, it’s that.”

They were at the boundary of the studio floor now, and they drew to a stop, standing beside each other just behind a line of hazard tape on the floor. This wasn’t the same entrance Mei Ling had used before, filing in with her fellow audience members. This was the wings, more exclusive, away from the madding crowd. The place you entered from if you were definitely about to get slopped.

It didn’t provide a great vantage point for what was happening on the studio floor though, so Mei Ling had to listen keenly instead. No wet splattery sounds, just waves of applause and laughter, which probably meant that whatever game had been played was now wrapping up.

“Hey.”

She turned to her left. Missy was looking at her, gaze like steel.

“If you ever wanna bring that little outfit round my place, I’ll make you dinner. Maybe eat you for dessert.”

Mei Ling’s eyebrows arched. Before she had a chance to respond to this cocksure come-on, there was a loud cheer from the stage.

“That’s your cue, Coco.” Missy reached a hand backwards, then slapped Mei Ling’s bare ass, firmly. “Go get yourself pie-fucked.”

For a moment, Mei Ling was frozen, her mouth hanging gently open at the audacity.

Then she let herself really hear the lusty, enthusiastic roar of the crowd, let it soak into her bones. She knew that Clown-Mei’s presence was hungrily anticipated by an audience of lovely, kinky weirdos. The adrenaline was delicious.

Suddenly, she leaned towards Missy, making doe-eyes, and thrusting her arms around the Stagehand’s jumpsuited waist. Their faces were inches apart, and their eyes were locked. Missy was smirking, clearly excited. Mei Ling gently parted her lips, and let the tip of her tongue emerge lasciviously.

And then she blew a raspberry right in Missy’s face. A storm of wet spittle, stained with red makeup, hit Missy’s cheeks. The girl looked properly shocked.

“I’ll call you. Maybe.”

While her hands were still clasped around Missy’s waist, she gave a firm slap of revenge against one buttock, and then shifted her bodyweight, suddenly skipping away onto the studio floor. She looked over her shoulder, and blew a kiss back at her defeated-looking escort.

Gotcha good, dummy!

V: Send in the Clown

“Ah, here she comes! Our harlequin hottie!”

Soundtracked by the tinkling notes of Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer, as well as a chorus of whoops, cheers and whistles, Mei Ling bounded onto the set, smiling and wide-eyed. She waved to the admiring crowd, gave her red nose a squeeze, then struck a rakish little pose and sexily twirled one of her braids.

Her confident playfulness was noted by Alexa and Sally, who caught each other’s eye, both looking very pleased at this development.

“What a transformation!” enthused Alexa, as Mei Ling waddled over goofily, and stood in that same spot between the hosts, still flirting with the audience. She was almost tempted to start acting bratty, teasing Alexa and Sally - though something told her to cool her jets. Maybe not the smartest idea. So she stayed quiet for the moment, though she couldn’t help bouncing on her heels and playing with her skirt.

“I think that outfit’s had rather an effect on you, hasn’t it?” asked Sally.

Mei Ling just smiled. “Maybe! D’you think I look funny?”

“Positively side-splitting, darling,” replied Alexa. “I think tonight’s audience are going to be very entertained.”

“I’ll sure do my best!”

“I don’t doubt it. Well, your stage awaits. Time to put on a show, wouldn’t you say?”

Mei Ling clasped her hands in front of her belly, and nodded obediently. Alexa and Sally calmly turned and walked towards the brightly-striped big top in the studio wall, gesturing to her to follow. She did so, of course, tottering and wobbling as comically as she could on the way.

As she neared the black leather seat, she noticed its four red manacles were already prised open, ready for her. And there was something else too, which she understandably hadn’t noticed when watching from further away, in the audience.

Attached to one half of each manacle was a cord, which draped out to the side of the chair, then arced upwards, disappearing into the rafters above. Each of these cords was thin, but incredibly strong-looking - they seemed to be made of dull metal wire, but it was twisted around itself for reinforcement.

She had a sudden vision, seeing herself being jerked around like a marionette, while a jeering mob threw rotten vegetables.

Probably not. Probably not. But her new-found confidence was already starting to erode slightly - and she hadn’t even sat down in the chair yet.

Speaking of which, Alexa and Sally stood either side of the seat, their arms extended towards it, their glares on her, leaving no doubt as to what she must do now.

“Ah, th-thank you!”

Mei Ling gave the most confident 180-degree twirl she could muster, and then hopped backwards into the seat, with an “oop!” that she hoped was a little clownish.

“No - thank you, Mei Ling,” replied Alexa, gazing down at her with a thrilling grin. “Without our intrepid testers, we’d never know if these silly things worked.”

Alexa took a moment to look up at Sally, whose eyes were narrow.

When it came to GungeWorld devices, nothing ever made it to air without rigorous testing, tweaking, and feedback. And, with few exceptions, quality control was Sally’s job. She had to sit in every gunge tank, plunge into every giant trifle, and endure every pie-barrage. All while her dominant wife pulled the levers, workshopped those teasing lines of script, and just generally lorded it over her while looking insufferably smug.

Not that Sally didn’t love it, of course. Yes, she might swear and squeal when Alexa surprised her with a dousing in eighty litres of cold rice pudding. But it was tempered by the knowledge that she’d soon be swearing and squealing in quite a different tone of voice, once Alexa finally took pity on her.

Which she usually did. Sometimes, Sally was left to sit, chained and dripping and alone in a gunge tank, for several hours while Alexa went and got her hair done. All part of the fun, of course.

In this moment, Alexa’s cheeky glance towards her wife was a reminder of a convenient fiction. Yes, we’ve tested this. But isn’t it fun when we pretend we haven’t?

Mei Ling noticed utterly nothing of this subtle marital interaction. Her thoughts were entirely focused on what she needed to do with her body right now.

Keen to please, and without being asked, she first slipped her wrists into the lower half of the manacles on the plush leather arm-rests. Those arms were angled slightly inwards - the pose made her feel like an anime robot, about to shoot lasers at some miscreants. A little weird, but she knew there would be some reason for it.

Next were the lower manacles. They were attached to a comfortable leather footrest. As Mei Ling looked down to slip her legs in, she noticed there was a visible seam in the middle of it, between the manacles. After a moment’s thought, she pieced together what that might mean, and bit her lip.

Nothing to be done about it right now, though. The hosts weren’t feeding her teasing lines - she was just expected to ready herself, and so she did. Once correctly positioned, Alexa and Sally firmly clasped the restraints around her wrists, then stooped to do the same for her ankles. They were padded, to avoid any serious bruising, but they were also tight. Mei Ling felt her heart rate rising, but did her best to keep things fun and flirty.

“Harder to be funny if I can’t move my arms and legs,” she said, faux-innocently. “How am I going to juggle?”

Alexa smiled at Mei Ling’s willingness to play along. “Don’t worry, my dear. Maybe you can do that for an encore.”

“She’s all strapped in,” said Sally. “Shall we go and get things started?”

Mei Ling shivered inwardly as Alexa nodded, and they retreated from the tent. While they did so, a Stagehand rolled a little plinth on wheels out from backstage. Its sides were covered in the same bright pattern that decorated Mei Ling’s corset, and its top was adorned with another colourful array - a panoply of buttons, switches and levers.

The hosts took their place behind this control panel, off to the side so as not to block the audience’s view, but of course keeping Clown-Mei in their line of vision.

“Cue the music!” cried Alexa, and her command was obeyed, more jaunty ragtime piano conjuring an old-timey slapstick atmosphere.

“Let’s see, then,” she continued, peering down. “Must try and remember what all these buttons do. What were we going to start with?”

“That one, wasn’t it?” replied Sally, pointing at one in particular.

“Oh yes. Keep it simple for now.”

Mei Ling was utterly tense, expecting a pie to be flung at her as soon as the button was pushed. However, that didn’t happen - which was somehow worse. She could see no sudden movement - but she could also hear the audience’s laughter quickly growing. It was never a good sign, at GungeWorld, when you couldn’t see what everyone else was laughing at.

Then she spied them, and gave a little squeak of anticipation. Sliding out from the walls behind her, one on each side, was a pair of long blocky platforms, a few feet high, their sides also gaudily decorated. In the top of each platform was a shallow runnel, housing what Mei Ling guessed was probably a conveyor belt. All along each belt sat a procession of GungeWorld’s biggest, heaviest, stickiest cream pies, every one drizzled with some sort of sweet, colourful goo.

Most comically, sticking out from the front end of each platform was a large model of a cartoonish, white-gloved hand. One pie already sat in each of the flat palms, and the next pie in line was clearly ready to slide onto it. Mei Ling gave the quickest of glances over her shoulder, confirming her suspicions - the line of pies extended all the way to an opening in the wall, with more surely lurking in the gloom beyond.

Holy moly. And this is them ‘keeping it simple’...

When the oversized hands were just a few feet away from her, in front and to each side, the platforms drew quietly to a halt. Mei Ling felt herself squirming in her chair. “Nyhh…”

Sally geed up the audience with a little unsubtle teasing, her finger stroking a red button. “Whaddya reckon, folks? Shall we give it to her?”

Obviously, the response was loud and unanimous.

“Time to pound our clown! In three! Two! One! Splat!”

The hand on the left jerked into action, springing up and letting a pie loose, perfectly weighted and rapidly propelled. It slammed into Mei Ling’s painted face with an enormous, loud squelch, gooey splatters of cream flying out from her cheeks and behind her head.

She was stunned at how hard it had nailed her, and spluttered in shock. But she barely had time to gather her thoughts before the next one was flung at her face from the other side, filling her gasping mouth with creamy gunge, and making her muscles twitch and writhe.

The crowd’s laughter was tinged with shock - even from twelve yards away, the noisy splats told them just how forcefully these pies were being hurled.

Mei Ling spat out a mouthful of glop, snatched a quick, deep breath, and closed her eyes, knowing this was just the beginning. She winced as the next cool, hefty flan burst against her face, and the next, and the next. The damp, gloppy matter was already oozing plentifully down the front of her outfit, piling up in her cleavage, globs falling into her lap.

The conveyor belts did their job efficiently. After each giant hand sprang forwards, it returned quickly to its original flat position, and the delicate pastry crust of the next pie slid smoothly onto it, nestling in the middle, ready to be flung.

After the tenth firm splatter into her face - or maybe the eleventh, or twelfth, she’d most certainly lost count already - Mei Ling realised, with some incredulity, that the foam red nose was still attached. How fucking strong is that glue? she thought for a fleeting moment, before yet another cold, creamy facial distracted her. The audience had noticed too. It was undeniably cruel that Mei Ling’s lovingly-crafted makeup had been so instantly buried under white slop. And that little fluffy red nose, just about peeking out through the thick slathering of cream, was a giggle-inducingly pathetic sight.

When she finally felt a few seconds go by without being goopily pummelled, Mei Ling breathed in deeply, her shoulders rising and falling, eyes still closed. She could feel the weight of the pie-glop coating her shoulders, her breasts, and the front of her dress. And the tight manacles around her wrists made her even more aware of her racing pulse.

Sixteen pies? Eighteen? God, who knows. She finally blinked open her eyes, vision clouded by the cream that she had no way to wipe off. When she saw that those cruel hands were still poised and armed in front of her - and the conveyor belts still fully loaded - she gave a panicked yelp, fearing an immediate recommencement.

Not so - for the moment, at least.

“Okay in there, Mei Ling?” asked Alexa from the sidelines, with a frankly inappropriate breeziness.

It took a moment to formulate a response. She knew she had to play along, though understandably, she was hardly in the headspace to dispense her most sparkling repartee.

“Ghhh… yeah… yep. All good! Spluh. That was quite, uh, quite a pieing.”

“Thought we’d start as we mean to go on. More toys to play with yet, though. What’s next, Sally?”

“I love this one,” replied Sally, pushing another button, and then gazing up at the roof of the circus set.

“Ah yes - excellent!”

The hosts and the audience watched with excitement as a thick, circular pipe, brightly patterned to match the rest of the equipment, emerged from the roof of the hollow, jutting down into the space at a raked angle. Mei Ling tracked their eyes, and looked up to see the pipe’s mouth gaping down at her, about ten feet above her and a few feet in front. She winced.

“This is a fun one, Mei Ling. It’s got laser targeting!”

Really? Oh god…

There was a ripple of laughter as the audience noticed a small “X”, formed of bright red light, was shimmering against the smears of cream on Mei Ling’s forehead.

“Would you like to drive, Sally?”

“With pleasure. Good place to start though,” she replied. Her left hand grasped a small joystick, which she held still for now. Instead, she pushed the button next to it.

Within half a second, a globby mass of cream came flying at speed out of the pipe’s mouth. Mei Ling gasped in anticipation, and immediately closed her eyes and mouth once more.

It wasn’t quite a custard pie - Alexa was a competent engineer, but there was really no way to maintain the structural integrity of pastry when propelling it down through a tube like this. However, it did a similar job. The crowd cheered as the sloppy mound of white mush splattered against Mei Ling’s face, the pipe’s steep downwards angle meaning that plenty gooped down her shoulders and chest.

“Up a bit, I think…”

The next damp splat fell squarely on top of Mei Ling’s head, a comical sight. Sally then nudged the lever left and right as she unleashed two more creamy payloads, thickly matting the girl’s pretty ponytails in cream. The mass of gunge on her head wobbled and teetered, flumping down her forehead, as well as down her back, squishing against the leather of the chair.

“Then down a bit, I think…”

The shining red X travelled down Mei Ling’s nose, her chin, her neck. When it came to a rest in the shallow, already-gungey valley of her cleavage, the audience gave a lusty cheer. Mei Ling was too plastered and flustered to see the laser marker, but the reaction gave her a clue as to where it might be.

Her suspicions were confirmed. Sweet, sticky slop whumped against her chest. There was plenty there already, but the direct impact of it made her shudder with excitement. Sally once again nudged the lever as she continued to fire, giving Mei Ling’s left breast a full and direct splatter, then her right, then another between the boobs.

Mei Ling could feel the thin fabric of her dress’ upper part sticking firmly to her chest. Blinking her eyes open, seemingly safe from splatters to the face for the moment, she looked down at herself. The sight made her bark out a meek little laugh. Her dress was covered in white goo, right down to the skirt - and Sally wasn’t done yet.

The laser target descended further, and Mei Ling felt a heavy splurge against her stomach, then one right into her lap - that really set her breathing heavily.

Her fluffy, frilly skirt covered the upper halves of her thighs, but it left enough skin exposed to offer Sally something to splat. Which she did with relish, of course. The previous plastering had left white gooey streaks over Mei Ling’s legs - now they got a proper coating, all the way down, side to side. Each bare, brightly-painted foot took a double-splatter. Mei Ling squirmed in her manacles, feeling the goo squish between her toes.

“What a wonderfully thorough job,” said Alexa admiringly.

Sally pushed the joystick upwards, and returned the laser-mark to Mei Ling’s forehead.

“Thank you, darling,” she replied with a smile, unleashing one final splurge of cream into the clown’s face, taking her very much by surprise.

“Spluh! Gah, you… mfff…”

They left a little moment for applause. Mei Ling was really starting to feel the rush intensify now, that deep, thrilling embarrassment in her stomach.

VI: Open Wide

Alexa cooed another question into the circus tent. “By the way Mei Ling, how’s the chair? Comfy?”

“Um… it’s a bit sticky now. And there’s, y’know…”

She wiggled her hands and feet, illustrating her helplessness. “But still pretty comfy, I guess.”

“Well that’s no good, is it? Sounds ever so boring. Let’s get you a little less comfortable, shall we?”

Oh fuck.

Alexa took the controls this time, her lithe fingers addressing a small up-down lever.

Mei Ling felt the arms of the chair, and their attached manacles, begin to slowly push backwards and upwards, taking her arms with them. She let out a little quiver of trepidation.

The manacles traced an ascending, circular arc. Within a few seconds, she was splayed like the Y of the YMCA, then after a few more, the chair’s arms came to rest in a vertical position, nestled snugly together. This left her own arms thrust skyward, passing beside her head, just behind her ears. The manacles weren’t so high as to be tugging her out of her seat, but they weren’t far off - there was a gentle pressure. It was, as promised, uncomfortable. Emotionally as well as physically - she was trying not to look at the amused yet pitying expressions in the crowd, but she couldn’t help catching a few of their wide-eyed stares.

Alexa shifted her hand to the next lever, perpendicular to the first, and gently pushed again. 

As she felt her legs begin to part, Mei Ling let out a quiet, anguished moan, her earlier fears confirmed. The footrest holding the lower manacles had split into two, and the halves were pulling apart. Not just sideways, she realised, but upwards.

She began to hear wolf-whistles from the crowd - they may have felt sorry for Mei Ling’s plight, but they were also horny fuckers, ready for things to get really filthy now.

Her legs were fully, shamelessly splayed, her knees pointed skyward, her clasped ankles brought up to the level of her seat. She gave a worried keen as they moved further and further back, making the muscles in her legs really start to tighten. It was a good thing she worked them out.

Alexa finally let go of the lever, to Mei Ling’s great relief - once again, pushing to the point of discomfort, but not outright pain.

Even under all the makeup and pie cream, Mei Ling could feel a fierce red burn in her cheeks, as the whooping audience and sadistic hosts took in the sight of her bare pussy and asshole. The skirt was lifted neatly by her upturned thighs, affording them a clear and unobstructed view.

She wondered if they could see how wet she was.

“There we go. Much more fitting, don’t you think, Mei Ling?”

“I, uh, I guess…”

Alexa surmised that she wasn’t going to get much decent banter out of the clown girl right now. Understandable, she supposed. Thankfully, she could always have a chat with Sally.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes. Pretty as a picture.”

“You know, the young ‘uns call that a clussy.”

“Clussy?” Sally feigned a moment’s confusion. “Clown… ah yes. That makes sense.”

The audience snickered at Mei Ling’s expression, which grew more pained and bashful with every word.

“They also seem to be very keen on clussies getting custard pied.”

“Really? Well, I can’t blame them. I must say, it’s ever such a tempting target.”

Mei Ling felt the aforementioned target twitch and redden at the mention of pies. The thought was utterly mortifying. And yet she wanted it, needed it, was fucking desperate for it.

“What do you reckon, folks? Should we splat that clussy?”

Another whimper emerged from the spreadeagled clown girl. And the crowd, of course, roared in approval.

Sally found the next button she needed. On the floor of the studio, between the hand-flinger conveyor belts, a panel - maybe six foot wide, and circular - smoothly slid away. 

Beneath it was a segmented wheel, the kind you’d spin on a gameshow. Every wedge was a different block colour, but there were no prizes written on the sections. Instead, at the thick end of each wedge sat a thick, oozy cream pie - a dozen in total.

Mei Ling looked down at it, lost for words.

Without warning, a spring-loaded tile beneath the nearest pie burst upwards with a metallic twang. Carefully angled, it propelled the pie perfectly at its target. 

Mei Ling screeched as she felt her blushing, aching cunt get engulfed in cool, sloppy cream.

“Aghck! Oh fuck, fucking fuck…”

It set her legs twitching, and her eyes were screwed up in blissful agony. The sensual, goopy matter clung to her wet slit, her thatch of pubic hair, the top of her inner thighs. She felt its sticky embrace against her pert little arsehole too, which felt indescribably indecent.

In contrast to the noisy flinger, the wheel’s rotation was near-silent. It swung around a precise thirty degrees, positioning the next flan beneath Mei Ling. While she was still muttering oaths and panting hot breaths, the pie launched, another hard and gooey splat underneath her skirt.

“Fuck, Jesus, Christ…”

The sensation was no less shocking the second time, and Mei Ling felt a deep shudder up her back. Above her head, her helpless hands were clenching into fists, unclenching, clenching again, just to release some of this maddening tension.

Round the wheel span, segment by segment, a few agonising seconds between each forceful, filthy impact.

It would be a stretch to say that Mei Ling grew accustomed to getting splattered between the legs, really. But by the time a fourth, a fifth pie had smothered her pussy, she had at least resigned herself to her fate.

She was still panting in panic and arousal. But she finally managed to blink her eyes open, almost wanting to make sure this was real. She glanced over at the hosts, who watched casually from behind their podium, wearing placid smiles, as if they were watching a mildly impressive pottery demonstration, rather than Mei Ling’s pornographic, slapstick degradation. Their insouciance only made her embarrassment deepen.

Another fat pie slapped itself against her snatch. Her neck and shoulders spasmed, which dislodged a healthy glob of cream from the top of her head. It landed on the tip of her still-intact red nose. Though it was too close to bring into focus, this sight only reminded her how utterly stupid she must look, dolled up like a bumbling fool, face and body dripping with cream. Suddenly, the hungry glares of the mocking crowd felt twice as intense as before. She closed her eyes, trying to hide from the shame.

It turned out to be a smart move. Though Mei Ling’s arms and legs had been humiliatingly rearranged, her face remained in the exact same position as previously. Which meant that when one of the giant clown-hands sprung into action again, it nailed her in the face with a large pie, just as effectively as it had before.

Another filthy spank against her crotch followed, adding further embarrassment as she spluttered and gasped for air. The wheel proceeded to spin through its second half-turn, the final six pussy-pieings interspersed by facial flannings. There was nothing she could do: she simply had to sit there and take it. Her clit was thrumming now, the intense tingles only amplified by the knowledge she had no way to satisfy them.

Once the spinning device below was finally empty of pies - and after one final gloopy cake was smashed into her face, for good measure - Mei Ling was granted a moment’s peace. Well, not peace exactly - the whoops and whistles from the audience were plenty loud, and that jaunty piano music was still burbling away, slightly annoying in truth.

She was able to catch her breath, though it did little to quell her racing pulse and raging hormones. The thick coating of sticky, sensual cream was driving her wild down below, and underneath it, she was sopping wet.

Worst of all - best of all - she had absolutely no idea what might come next.

The optimistic angel on her shoulder whispered that it might be over - the baying crowd satisfied at the sight of a nice creamed clussy. She’d be unclasped, take a little unsteady bow, and then waddle away to the showers, and bring herself off in a haze of steamy bliss.

The devil on her other shoulder told the angel, in no uncertain terms, that it was a fucking idiot. She hadn’t even found out what the wires did, for crying out loud. And did she honestly think that silly little dress had a chance of staying on?

No, Mei Ling. You’re absolutely fucked, my dear.

VII: Puppet Show

Ten seconds was nowhere near long enough to recover, considering the intensity of what she’d just been through. But ten seconds was all she got, before Alexa’s cut-glass voice set all her nerves jangling once again.

“Mei Ling - word of advice. I’d stay as still as you can for the next part. It’s very safe - but it’s easier if you don’t squirm.”

Mei Ling’s chest tightened. Easy for you to say, you evil bitch. But she did her best to obey, moaning softly and trying to manage her breathing.

She barely had the energy to blink her eyes open, so she had to go on the sound of the crowd’s reaction. It seemed a little confused at first, though it grew in volume. What they were seeing was a hook, on the end of a rigid pole, that was slowly extending into the circus tent from an opening above.

The first Mei Ling learned of this was a firm pressure against the top of her chest, just below her neck. Again, insistent, but not enough to hurt. Whatever this was felt plasticky and solid.

She felt this device sink lower, nestling into the indentation between her breasts, still pressing with gentle force against her skin, pushing through the piled-up cream.

Once it reached the chest-piece of her dress, she felt it slip underneath the fabric. Then she heard a ripping noise, and felt an easing of pressure against her bust.

The device’s intention was fairly clear at this point, though it was so unknown and strange to her that she simply had to try to open her eyes and see it. This wasn’t easy - her vision was clouded with globs of cream, and again, she had to look down past the silly, sticky red nose.

It did look safe, at least, as Alexa had promised. The hook was coated in rounded black plastic. But she began to understand that once it had gathered the fabric in its crook, there was something incredibly sharp in there, that seemed to be cutting through the material without the slightest hint of resistance.

After a couple of seconds, she felt her breasts spill fully out of the dress’ torn chest. Looking down, she saw a line of demarcation, heavy cream smearing the tops of her boobs, but clean skin below - clean nipples too, as firm as marble and yearning to be touched. The device continued slowly downwards, tearing its way through the fabric on her belly. The audience were rapt.

Alexa leaned sideways, putting a hand to her mouth and directing a stage whisper towards Sally - picked up in crystal clarity by the microphones, of course.

“And they call those cloobies.”

Sally snorted. “Really? Not sure about that one.”

“I guess calling them clits would probably be too confusing.”

“Fair point.” Sally left a pause. “Clockers, maybe?”

Mei Ling whimpered while the sharp hook ploughed further down her body, pressing against her belly as it started to tear both layers of her skirt. Thanks to her splayed posture, though, it was able to lift off from against her skin as it finished the job.

The whole outfit had been a little tight, so once it was fully split down the middle, it sprang open, each half of it lying in a crumpled mess against Mei Ling’s flanks, leaving her almost entirely exposed.

Sally was singing again. “What shall we do with the naked clown-girl,” she trilled three times, to the tune of The Drunken Sailor, finishing with “...something nice and horny?”

“A pretty ditty,” said Alexa, “and a good question. I have something in mind.”

“Go on.”

“Well, as you can see, the pies have pounded Mei Ling pretty well. How about we let her get some revenge?”

The clown slut’s eyes grew wide for a moment, and her heart leapt. Revenge?

Sally sounded appalled. “What? On us?”

“Oh no, don’t be silly. What I meant was, how about we let Mei Ling pound some pies?”

Mei Ling winced, and cursed herself for getting her hopes up.

“Ah, now I get you. Oh yes, that sounds fun!”

Alexa busied herself at the control panel once again. For a little while, Mei Ling could feel nothing happening. Then, in her fuzzy, creamy peripheral vision, she noticed that those ominous cables attached to her ankle-manacles were starting to raise up, their arcs becoming steeper. The two above her were surely doing the same. She stiffened in anticipation.

“Wait…”

Sally turned towards Alexa, who paused the ascent of the metal ropes. She had a pleading look in her eye, almost embarrassed, and clasped her hands under her chin.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Just, before you do that…”

Sally looked bashful, and said the next part in a shy, quiet voice. “Can I splat the cloobies?”

A ripple of giggles spread through the audience. Even Mei Ling had to smile in amusement at this naughty little request.

“I don’t see why not… be quick about it though, eh?”

The laser-guided glop gun was put back into action, Sally deftly guiding the red X between Mei Ling’s breasts, which rose and fell with her breath. The goo was quickly unleashed - Sally gave Mei Ling’s chest a back-and-forth volley of five rapid splatters, fully coating her heavy tits with sweet, sensual cream, making them wobble gently. After squeaking her way through the splurging, Mei Ling let out a quiet sigh. It felt wonderful.

Sally surrendered the controls back to Alexa, giving her a little peck on the cheek as she did so. “Thanks.”

Once Alexa put the switch for the cables back into action, it took a few seconds for Mei Ling to feel anything. But once she did, it set her heart thumping.

At the exact moment the ropes achieved full, straight tautness, the manacles were released by whatever mechanism had been holding them fast to the chair’s arms and footrest. And so Mei Ling remained in roughly the same degrading, spreadeagle position, at least for the moment. But instead of resting on the chair’s seat, she was now fully under the pull of gravity. It was a shocking feeling - her hips and butt felt incredibly heavy all of a sudden. And she could sense her arms and legs already starting to ache, though only softly at first.

It was time for this booby-trapped carnival to reveal more of its surprises. Once Mei Ling was hoisted clear of the chair - hanging eight feet or so off the ground - a large section of the set’s back wall slid upwards. It didn’t reveal anything to the crowd immediately - it was unlit back there, and more dry ice obscured what might be lurking.

Next, the section of floor on which the chair was mounted began to rotate, sending the gooey piece of furniture back towards the wall - the whole thing, including its hoisted arms, repositioned footrests, and Mei Ling’s crumpled, bisected clown dress. And from the other side, the rotation brought forth more slapstick treats for the helpless, horny harlequin.

What emerged was a series of square pedestals, each a few feet high, once again patterned in bright, tessellating diamonds. The first one rotated into position underneath Mei Ling, where it stopped. On top of the pedestal was a bowl, which was a few feet wide, and looked to be made of thick, padded canvas, bright blue. In the bowl, piled up higher than its rim, was a wobbling mound of something sweet and gooey. The pedestals following behind it out of the recess - two of them visible, though who knew if there were more - contained similar large heapings of mess, looking to be different flavours.

Mei Ling had been trying to see what was going on below her - especially as she could hear it was making the audience giggly and excited - but her efforts were hampered by the ropes slowly rearranging her body. The ones holding up her manacled arms drew apart, and those holding her feet did the opposite. She was left spread out in a droopy X-shape, like a tree sloth trying to grab the underside of a particularly wide branch. Her butt remained the lowest point of her arrangement, and it hung directly above the first of these bowls.

She was aching now, in more ways than one - the muscles in her limbs were starting to throb, but she was also burning with lust, and with embarrassment. What happened next would temporarily relieve the first of these aches, but very much heighten the other two.

The cords suspending her all went slack at once, and the screeching clown-girl was dropped into the enormous bowl of gunk, arse-first.

Huge, squelchy globs of the stuff were propelled out of the bowl by the weight of her gorgeous body, arcing between her legs and out to her sides, falling to the studio floor with a loud, filthy splat.

Mei Ling’s screech became a gasp, and then a deep, guttural moan, as she felt her damp cunt enveloped by the thick gunge. The heady scent was incredible - she smelled banana, and caramel? Banoffee. A personal favourite, though of course, she’d never been served it quite like this before.

It barely crossed her mind how silly she must look, her tired limbs flopping limply out of the sides of the bowl. The feeling between her legs was demanding her full attention. Every tiny squirm of her hips made her shudder, her sensitive pussy being gently massaged by this slimy confection. All she wanted to do was thrust her hands into the bowl and fuck herself blind. But the cables attached to the manacles had been carefully manipulated - even if she tried, there wouldn’t have been enough slack.

Neither would there have been the time. After maybe five seconds - enough for the crowd to enjoy the sight of Mei Ling’s groaning and writhing - Alexa pushed the lever again, and the clown girl was hoisted upwards, giving a little keen as the ropes went taut. The noise produced as she was extricated from the bowl - an obscene squpsch - made her stomach turn somersaults in embarrassment.

Lots more embarrassment to come, though. She dangled again, great messy globs of banoffee cream falling softly through the air below her. This time she hung just a little higher, not that anyone would notice, maybe six inches. The floor rotated steadily, leaving the next pile of cake below her, this one looking rather chocolatey.

After a pulse-quickening few seconds of tension, the cords went slack once again, and Mei Ling plunged into the sloppy Black Forest gateau beneath her, once again gasping and yelping at the humiliating, slapstick explosion she created.

She hadn’t been pied in the kisser for a little while now, so plenty of the cream had fallen away, and the crowd could enjoy the aroused contortions of her face. Her makeup was slightly smeared but still exaggerated and comical, and that big daft red nose waved around as she writhed in the sweet muck, bound and frustrated and desperately hungry for release.

Eagle-eyed viewers would notice that the fourth pedestal in this sequence didn’t seem to be piled high with cream, like the others. Mei Ling would shortly discover why. But before that, she was lifted out of the gateau - dangling a little higher once again - and dunked pussy-first into a heavy, sticky mass of tiramisu.

This dessert was Alexa’s personal favourite. She was letting this segment play out without any audible teasing - it was cruel enough already. But her eyes definitely narrowed in appreciation when she saw those luscious hips obliterate the boozy, coffee-tinged heap. She imagined thrusting her face into it, and tasting an exclusive, Mei Ling-flavoured delicacy. But that would interrupt this carefully-orchestrated set piece. Another time…

Mei Ling’s moans were getting louder each time, a vocal solo of wordless, gasping arousal. Even muffled by the stickiness of the desserts, she could feel her ravenous beaver was utterly sodden with excitement. But she remained a helpless ragdoll, tugged softly upwards into the air, in preparation for the penultimate bowl - there didn’t seem to be anything approaching after the fifth.

Just before she was dunked this time, a warm scent hit her nostrils - something much richer than the cool, creamy flavours so far. A second later, she found out what it was. When her arse plunged into the surface of the chocolate fudge sauce, she screamed out loud in surprise.

“Eeeaaaugh! Augh, aaah, ah, oh, ohhh…”

The splat she made was louder and wetter, great glossy arcs of dark brown sauce spraying everywhere. And the noises she made as she lay helplessly in the pool were louder, too. It may have been a shock, but it was a beautiful one - deliciously liquid and hot against her skin, sloshing up around her belly, coating her thighs, and engulfing her midriff.

Sally had disagreed with the inclusion of the chocolate fudge sauce, at first. She felt it was too far removed from a pie, and that they were working to a specific theme in this scene. But when Alexa had, as always, made her test it, her objections melted away into the warm goo. And, in retrospect, she had to admit it really was nice to watch.

Especially when Mei Ling was dragged out of the dark, chocolatey glop, still groaning in ecstasy. There were no fluffy falling globs this time: instead, the studio floor was drizzled with thin streams and cute little drops of smooth, liquid sauce, pouring off from her fully-coated hindquarters.

The last bowl was piled high once again, higher than all the others, bright white and glossy. Mei Ling’s helpless body was noticeably hoisted higher too, the increments each time adding up.

“Last one, Mei Ling! Ready?”

Alexa didn’t wait for an answer. And any relief Mei Ling felt from the words “last one” was short-lived, evaporating when her slimy butt plunged into the frigid, sloppy ice-cream cake beneath her.

“Aiyeeeargh! Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, unhhh…”

It was a very mean trick, to warm her up with the lovely chocolatey goo, then dunk her into a pile of ice-cold, semi-liquid cake. So Mei Ling’s reaction was entirely appropriate, really - swearing, yelping, gasping out hot breaths of indignation. Her limbs twitched and flapped to the limited extent they were able, and her hips involuntarily squirmed against the dessert below her, only making things feel yet more intense.

They let her writhe and moan in this final pit a little longer than the others, the audience starting to feel rather sorry for the poor hottie. But then it was up and out, Alexa tautening the ropes, a wicked melange of chocolatey and creamy gunge pouring from Mei Ling’s arse onto the studio floor as the final pedestal trundled back into the wall.

Rotating back into its rightful place, the chair returned. Mei Ling’s shredded outfit had been removed, but the chair’s various parts were still arranged as they had been.

“I must say, Alexa - she’s sounding a little out of breath…”

It was true - her breathing was very audible, shallow and loud, as she tried to control her racing heartbeat. Despite her job, this was by far the most strenuous workout she’d had in years.

“Yes, it seems that way. Maybe she could do with a nice sit down.”

The host manipulated the controls, and the dripping clown girl was once again pulled gently around by the strong cables attached to her manacles, while also being steadily lowered back towards the seat.

When Mei Ling realised she was being slotted right back into place as before - arms hoisted, legs splayed, and pussy and arse displayed shamelessly to the audience - she cringed in humiliation. And, for just a moment, she felt a little disappointed at the lack of creativity.

Again? Please, you’ve pied me in the face and the pussy enough now, surely…

The manacles clicked solidly back into place against the padded leather panels of the chair. Mei Ling couldn’t be sure, but the slight jolts as they did so suggested some engineering trickery using strong magnets. She certainly wouldn’t put it past Alexa.

Below her, the seat was immediately slick with mingled, sweet goo, and a steady stream of it dripped from the lip, outrageously suggestive, onto the floor below her.

She’d been trying not to meet the smug, sadistic glares of the hosts, but for self-preservation’s sake, she had to look up and see what they were doing - she half-expected Alexa to be grasping some huge lever that would instantly shower her in an avalanche of pie-glop. Her eyes were wide, and her lower lip was quivering. The looks she got in return, of course, were airy and teasing.

They didn’t even address her directly. “Do you know,” began Sally, “I’ve just realised something. Shouldn’t a good clown have some funny props?”

“Ooh! Quite right. I’m glad we didn’t forget that.”

They weren’t wasting time - all that was needed here was to put a naughty thought into the audience’s mind, and then follow it through.

“Do you want to do the honours?”

Alexa thanked Sally for the opportunity, and once again, turned to the bank of buttons, filled with filthy potential.

VIII: Toybox

The first thing that emerged sent ripples of laughter through the audience. Mei Ling, craning her neck down, saw it appear too, slowly rising from the floor right in front of her seat, a little offset to the side.

It was a big, cartoonish flower, with round pink petals and a yellow centre. It was clearly made of shiny plastic, and its design was so simple it could have been drawn by a child. It stood at the top of a retractable metal rod - once this had finished extending, the flower sat a little higher than Mei Ling’s hips.

Without warning or teasing, the centre of the flower gushed forth with a spray of clear liquid, in several thin jets. Mei Ling shuddered as she felt her pussy, and everything around it, being doused in warm, slippery lube.

The sensation was pleasant, and the promise was terrifyingly wonderful. Funny props.

Another push of a button, and a second device emerged from the floor below, this one right beneath her hips, chocolatey goop oozing into the small hole it protruded from. It seemed to be a small, purple, plastic bulb of some kind, but the rod that extended beneath it was wreathed in colourful fabric.

Once the device reached its intended height, just above the level of the seat, it began to slowly move forward, carefully guided by Alexa with a joystick.

Mei Ling felt the plastic tip of the bulb press gently, then more firmly, against her tender butthole. She gasped in a hungry breath, and clenched her teeth, the audience watching in hushed awe.

More lube was spilled over her privates and this toy by the flower. And then, with an indecent but thrilling squish, the plug slid squarely into her behind.

It wasn’t particularly large, but she could most certainly feel it, solid and stationary inside her arse. Giggles once again ebbed around the audience, who were now starting to understand the joke. The decoration on the rod beneath had made it look like some deviant magician was midway through a very extreme version of the handkerchief trick - pulling an endless string of colourful, knotted cloths from Mei Ling’s delicate butthole.

“Gnh! Oh my guhh…”

This was Mei Ling’s reaction to the buttplug coming to life, buzzing with a gentle but utterly maddening vibration. It set her muscles clenching, and her firm, round buttocks squirmed madly against the gooey leather of the chair. She expelled hot, short breaths into the air as she tried to accustom herself to the sensation, tried to banish the thought of all those staring eyes.

Alexa took a moment to enjoy the sight of this wonderful, horny, beyond-flustered girl, and her evolving reaction to the anal teasing. But that wasn’t all, of course - time for the controls to be put into action again.

Toy number three was another red nose, of a sort. Again, it rose from the studio floor, attached to a steady metal rod, this one bent into a right-angle, upwards then forwards. It was slightly bigger than the bedraggled foam ball that sat on Mei-Ling’s face, and clearly more sturdy, made of rubber.

Mei Ling had stopped keeping a close watch on the developments taking place between her legs. Her eyes were screwed up tight, her cream-smeared mouth wide open, as she began to moan freely. She had started to surrender herself, unashamed, to the pleasure of it. There were still nagging worries at the edge of her mind, of the peering cameras and the leering crowd, the sheer helpless humiliation. But they were being pushed further and further away by the intensity of the physical joy that she was now feeling.

The red nose, slowly questing forward, only added more fuel to the fire. By the time it met her skin, just at the top of her pussy’s quivering, flushed slit, it was already thrumming with vibes. Another warm wave of lubricant splashed between her legs.

“Ah…!”

Guided by Alexa’s cruel yet loving hand, the buzzing red ball pressed more and more firmly against her clit. Mei Ling could feel the difference with every fraction of an inch - and Alexa could hear it.

“Ah! Oh fuck oh mmm, grh-ugh, fuck-yesss oh Jesus…”

Mei Ling’s body roared demands to her brain, most of them utterly futile. Her shoulders wanted to writhe in delight, but they were still hoisted fast beside her head. Her hands clasped and unclasped, wanting to caress her own sticky skin, tug at her hair, but they remained helpless above the manacles. Her hips wanted to buck and dance - and, to be fair, they managed a little of that, every little squirm subtly redirecting the electrical currents that coursed outwards from her clit. Her back arched, as much as it could in this constrained position. And her whimpering, delighted cries only grew louder and louder.

There was one final accessory to release from the toybox. Alexa couldn’t help her mouth twitching up in just the naughtiest smile as she manipulated the controls, and raised it from its hiding place.

Long, thick and solid, the lime-green silicone dildo was carefully moulded and polished to look like a balloon: the sausage-like kind that could be twisted into a simple animal figure. It was housed on a frame much more substantial than the other toys, clearly including some kind of powered motor. And it was adorned with two round green balloons at its back end, mimicking huge testicles. They were genuine, lightweight balloons too, bobbing around slightly in the studio’s subtle air currents, in comical contrast with the dildo’s inert, steady state.

It was the audience’s empathetic titters, and squeaks of excitement, that prompted Mei Ling to look down once more between her legs. The sight of this neon ramrod pointing squarely towards her pussy made her heart leap, flustered and thrilled. She’d been expecting something similar, in truth - it would hardly be a Clown Pounder if she didn’t get a proper fucking, after all. But the wilfully silly design of it definitely imparted an extra frisson.

The dildo slid slowly forward, as Mei Ling continued to moan under the intense and intimate physical stimulation. She felt the warm, stiff tip of the plastic balloon-cock resting against her slit now, ready to plunge inside. Waiting for it to do so - teetering on the brink of orgasm, of what the French called the little death - she saw her GungeWorld story, her path to this point, flashing rapidly before her tightly-shut eyes.

---

Her first time was essentially a prank. A masterclass in naughty surprises and lies of omission.

You should go on this gameshow ;)

The message from Dylan had a video attached. He was a funny, fit and unapologetically kinky man, and after an enjoyable fling that ultimately fizzled out, the two of them had kept in touch.

Lmao, what the F,  she’d replied. Did not expect to find out about slime porn today!

It was only after the fourth time of watching the video through, fascinated and confused in equal measure, that the thought entered her head. What if I did?

Her first mistake, perhaps, had been saying in the initial email that a friend had sent her “a clip” - singular - of the show, and dared her to sign up. Alexa’s reply had pounced on this - saying it would be great to have her on, and even better if she could refrain from watching any more clips until the filming. Going in blind is much more fun!

Re-reading that email afterwards, Mei Ling realised the unwritten coda. To watch.

After perusing the range of waivers, she’d decided to be a little daring, and signed the one indicating she would be happy to take her clothes off. It had just looked so fun and sexy in the video - the amazing look of the goo against Aoife and Eve’s skin, the way they teased each other after every strip or slime forfeit. There was the possibility that calling Dylan’s bluff might just un-fizzle things between them - she missed him a little, in truth. And the fee was not to be sniffed at.

On the day of the show, she’d been mightily impressed by the facilities, and Alexa’s warm, caring welcome, even though it was impossible to shake the nerves. When it came time to take her place on the studio floor, she was guided towards a strange circular cart, like something from the waltzers at the fairground. It was placed in front of a door, adorned with glitzy golden question marks. Taking a seat, with a stomach full of butterflies, she must have been the only person in the studio who wasn’t aware of the device’s particular significance at GungeWorld. For the moment, at least.

She listened attentively to Alexa’s explanation. The game seemed simple enough. Five rounds of trivia questions, and after each round, Mei Ling would take a trip, through the door of mystery and around the GungeWorld mansion. Every wrong answer would mean some kind of forfeit being added on the way, or possibly she’d have to strip off a garment. But correct answers meant cash prizes, on top of her appearance fee.

At the end of the first round, she’d earned £70 and three forfeits, but remained fully clothed - not bad, she surmised. The audience whooped excitedly as the cart set off through the doors. Mei Ling’s eyes opened wide when she saw the scale of the set within.

Still, the trip was ultimately pretty tame. A quick stop in the bathroom first, a tiled corner of the set, and Mei Ling got showered in cold water from above for a few seconds. Then, passing under an overhead balcony, she experienced her first ever gunging - a healthy bucketful of blue slop poured over her head with relish. The audience delighted in her squealing.

Next up was the garden - and her mouth opened in worry as she saw a long pond full of green goop, with a track leading down into it. But this was a false alarm - she hadn’t activated that forfeit, so her cart simply trundled past it, taking her into the kitchen. Here, she did get another messy treat - three Stagehands dressed as chefs each pelted her in the face with a creamy pie, and she squeaked and spluttered, giving the audience something to cheer.

Finally, she went past a grand fireplace, with a large hollow inside. It barely even registered to her - the cart didn’t stop, and soon she was back through the door into the quizzing arena, Alexa and the audience applauding her for completing the trip. She slicked gunge back from her hair, took a deep breath, and got ready for round two.

This was the point when things started to head rapidly downhill.

The difficulty of the trivia questions began to crank sharply upwards, hurtling through tricky, and quickly reaching a plateau of downright unfair. In tandem, the audience’s enjoyment rapidly increased - as did the volume of Mei Ling’s reaction to each messy trip through the mansion.

By the time Alexa, grinning like a loon, sent Mei Ling away on her fifth sloppy journey with an extravagant wave of the arm, the poor newbie was already naked, plastered, humiliated and panting with exhaustion.

The final trip was carnage.

In the bathroom, Mei Ling was mercilessly drenched with a wave of icy water, leaving her nude, blushing body a blank canvas for more naughty glop. Which started straight away - she was immediately doused in jets of colourful foam, and rivers of gungey ‘shampoo’.

With nary a break, she rolled onwards underneath the balcony - and as she spun helplessly in the silly little vehicle, the laughing Stagehands unleashed a full fifteen buckets of thick, colourful gunge over her head and shoulders, the sheer splatteriness of it a sight to behold.

Into the garden, and time for Mei Ling to be dragged through the sloppy pond for a third time in this game. On this occasion, a thick cloud of pink cream had been sprayed onto its surface - her upper body was muffled with sticky foam, as everything below the waist was sunk into the liquid goop and pulled through it. Oh, and just for good measure, a large vat of slop sloshed brutally over her halfway through the dunking.

Weak and whimpering, Mei Ling entered the kitchen, and cowered at the sight of the Stagehands’ manic, intentful glares. They had to genuinely hustle to deliver their allocated slopping before Mei Ling’s cart left the room - thirty fat cream pies, slapped all over her upper body, with half a dozen buckets of warm, thick custard thrown in for good measure.

And then the fireplace. On her fourth go round, Mei Ling had finally been dragged in to the fateful hollow in the wall, and after an agonising ten-second pause, the gargantuan slime-vat hidden inside there had tipped, drenching her in a sticky orange torrent, overwhelming and excessive and absolutely too much gunge for a poor newbie.

This time, they did the same - except with two vats.

When Mei Ling emerged back through the mystery door, clusterfucked with shiny pink and purple gunk, she could barely think, let alone speak.

Because of the specific waiver she’d signed, the spectacular gunging had never become too explicit - no toys, or restraint, or messy groping. And she hadn’t succumbed to the urge that some models did when they discovered the slippery, sensual pleasure of it all, touching themselves as the slime rained down. It was far too embarrassing and shocking for all that, in the heat of the moment.

Although once she’d been slowly and carefully escorted to the shower, with a haze of steam and cleansing water enveloping her, it was a very different story.

She would later learn that this was by far the most mess that GungeWorld had ever unleashed upon a first-timer. “I’ve had ‘obliterate a virgin’ on my to-do list for a little while,” confessed Alexa. “You just drew the short straw. I really do apologise. But you were absolutely fantastic.”

---

In contrast, her second time had been friendly, playful, welcoming, and sweet.

She and Faye had been pitted against each other in a fairly typical scenario. They began on a brightly-lit and pastel-coloured set, each nestled in a comfortable inflatable armchair. The chairs stood on sturdy bases which were able to propel them a few feet forwards - and their occupants downwards, six feet through the air into an enormous, fluffy pit of pure whipped cream.

The simple game took place over ten trivia questions. Each round, both girls would answer the same question, alternating who went first. The second player had the advantage of copying their opponent’s answer, if they thought it was correct. A right answer awarded £50: a wrong one, and it was a shower of gunge from above, and a trip into the giant pie. They would also have to drag themselves out of the mire and climb the stairs to re-seat themselves: plus, pay a toll of one item of clothing on the way.

Mei Ling fluffed question two, and Faye did the same on question three, both enjoying a giggly sliming and dunking for their trouble, discarding their blouses as they climbed back to their perch. Question five was the first time that both beauties messed it up, and they exchanged excited little glances before the gunge fell and the chairs dumped them downwards with two loud splats.

When they emerged, thoroughly covered in cream, Faye immediately started the playful flirting, scooping up as much goo as she could and smearing it into Mei Ling’s laughing face. This was reciprocated, and there was a very enjoyable flurry of splattery, fluffy grappling before Alexa gently chided them into resuming the game. Mei Ling discarded her skirt on the way back up, while Faye made a different choice, letting her wonderful round jugs fall free.

Mei Ling next took a solo dunking, and had to go topless too - and then Faye enjoyed a creamy spill, discarding her skirt. This left two happy and horny girls sitting in very slippery seats, wearing nothing but sticky knickers, awaiting question eight. It was on a subject beyond them both, and the slime duly rained down before another creamy plunge.

The angle that the chairs dunked them from was carefully calculated to leave them close to each other in the giant sweet swamp. Once Mei Ling finally managed to stand, she was immediately assaulted by Faye’s utterly smouldering glare.

“Hey. Wanna make out?”

She was still on the same waiver as last time - no obligation to engage in anything sexual. But this was an invitation, not an obligation.

Mei Ling lunged forward, hungrily locking lips with Faye, feeling their sticky skin press together, caressing the redhead’s delicious curves, and feeling her own being stroked and teased in return. The taste of Faye’s warm mouth, and the sweet cream they were both smeared in, was utterly intoxicating.

Alexa left them to it for a little while, finally interjecting as Faye started to massage cream into Mei Ling’s breasts, making her whimper.

“Plenty of time for that yet…”

The two girls gave bashful smiles, slowly retreating to their perches, laughing as they peeled off their last remaining protection from the slop.

Question nine presented an interesting conundrum. Mei Ling knew the answer, and she knew Faye’s first response had been wrong. A correct answer would likely win her the game, and a cool £250 bonus cash prize. But ten feet away, in the other chair, the gorgeous New Zealander was eye-fucking her hard, taunting her, daring her to throw the game and get close in the lovely goop once more.

“Augh!” complained Mei Ling. “Stop it!”

She blurted out the correct answer, and Faye gave a huge hammy pout, mock-offended, before the splatter and the squelch kicked in. She booed Mei Ling sarcastically from the sloppy muck-pit below. “Clever clogs! Lame-o!”

Faye needn’t have worried, in the end. Before the final question, Alexa revealed some “higher stakes” - a slime-dispensing apparatus of some kind, all reservoirs and nozzles, descending over the centre of the pit. And just for good measure, a team of Stagehands entered the set, trailing catering trolleys behind them.

Inevitably, the final question was utterly unguessable. And very soon, with audible delight, the two contestants braced themselves for a final, extra-long shower of neon slime, accompanied by the rude whump of pies against their naked, reclined forms.

By the time they were actually dunked, no more words needed to be exchanged. Faye and Mei Ling seemed to find each other before they even found the surface, emerging entwined and ravenous, their sticky mouths exchanging saliva and hot breath, their hands questing and squeezing and playing.

Even the first splashes of gunge from above, a plethora of rainbow-coloured streams swinging in splashy, gooey arcs over their heads, barely interrupted them. They only laughed more in between their deep, lustful snogs, propelling each other towards a heady, beautiful plateau of sheer sticky pleasure.

Enveloped in the foamy gunge, they came in tandem, hands between each other’s legs, somehow managing to hold each other upright while gasping for breath and shuddering in kinky joy.

Mei Ling’s muscles turned to jelly. She felt as if she could sleep for a year. But Faye was a seasoned pro when it came to sloppy sex, and it turned out her stamina wasn’t exhausted yet.

With a filthy chuckle, Faye grabbed Mei Ling around the waist, then fell forward on top of her. A huge wave of creamy white gunge was expelled under Mei Ling’s back, as she wailed with delight. They fell awkwardly, bodies slipping about in the slime, but soon Faye was firmly on top of her, their warm breasts pressed together, their tongues busy once again.

Over the next couple of minutes, Faye slowly brought her mouth downwards, inevitably, inexorably, towards Mei Ling’s pussy, kissing every inch of sloppy, delicious flesh she encountered along the way. Thin streams of sensual, slippery gunge continued to splash from above - at first over Faye’s back, then as she descended, over Mei Ling’s exposed face and body, hidden in their cosy hollow within the messy mire.

She surrendered herself to it, letting her juicy buttocks squish against the cream as they writhed, letting her hands play with her rock-hard nipples, rubbing gunge into them as Faye licked and sucked and teased.

The first flicker of Faye’s tongue against her engorged clit sent a sharp cry through the studio air, one that made Alexa bite her lip in satisfaction, looking down into the giant pie from the ledge above.

There was an unspoken conversation of glances between the boss-lady and her pie-toting Stagehands. Hold fire. It won’t take long.

It didn’t. Within half a minute, Mei Ling was cumming hard, groaning deeply and shuddering in ecstasy. Alexa’s hand was held aloft.

She allowed the girl to enjoy maybe ten seconds of unfettered orgasm, before her hand dropped. And on that signal, Mei Ling was treated to a fast, brutal and incredibly sloppy pie salvo, a barrage to her rosy cheeks and jiggling chest.

That sensation came back to Mei Ling, in idle moments and snooze-alarm dreams, for weeks afterwards.

---

And now she was here. A similar situation to the last one, in a way, but with so many important differences.

This wasn’t a double-act. This was her show, her very own filthy degradation, her stand-up special, her solo album. Her chance to out-slut the other sluts, to pledge her allegiance to the pie gods, to lick her mistress’s boots and then ask for more. Her lucky break, her first time being plucked out of the crowd, her deviant lottery ticket.

As Alexa finally steered the firm plastic ramrod into her sopping, quivering pussy, Mei Ling simply melted.

She’d never been one to show off for her lovers, to make big, exaggerated pornstar noises. She liked them to know they were doing it right - to reduce her to an insensible, animalistic wreck, as some of her more skilled paramours had done.

While Mei Ling started to climax, just about as hard as she ever had before, the studio mics picked up a delicious burble of nonsense - helpless splutters, feral growls, half-formed expletives.

The rigid toy steadily carried out its assigned mission, nestling deep into Mei Ling’s warm cunt, gently thrusting back and forth. And Alexa’s finger hovered over the button - the same one as before, the trigger for those silly giant clown-hands, at the end of the conveyor belts that remained fully stacked with pies.

She let Mei Ling splutter and moan for a few seconds more, then thrust her finger forward.

The first smack of cold cream against Mei Ling’s face made every muscle in her body stiffen. Her ongoing orgasm leapt to a new level of breathtaking intensity.

Another flan smashed into her cheeks, white goo globbing down her jiggling breasts. The sensations rushing up and down her spine were astonishing - the delicious humiliation splattering into her face, and the raw carnal stimulation of her pussy and arsehole, feeding into each other in perfect harmony.

For the moment, there were no further surprises. There didn’t need to be. Mei Ling was steadily vibed, flanned, and fucked, bound and splayed and helpless, for close to a minute. It was utter bliss.

After she’d taken a full three dozen creamings to the face, the assault finally relented. While she spat, licking her lips and gasping for breath, she felt the intensity of the toys below start to slacken, as well. She could feel herself starting to come down from the heavens, a graceful descent, waves of pleasure still coursing through her body.

“Guhhh… mmm, wow…”

At the sound of Alexa’s voice, she stiffened a little. But her mistress was clearly trying to be reassuring.

“Brava, Mei Ling, brava! What a clown-show. Spectacular doesn’t begin to describe it. Let’s get you a little more comfy… I think a good rest would be well-deserved.”

Mei Ling felt the pads of the chair, and their attached manacles, move once more. Her arms began to sink, eventually coming to rest out to her sides. She was still firmly clasped in, but the position felt a lot more natural, and her muscles sighed with relief. Her legs, too, were given a break, the pads descending to the floor. Though they didn’t meet in the middle - her thighs remained rather open, but she was grateful not to be quite so dramatically hoisted and splayed.

The red ball and the butt-plug had both ceased vibrating, and the latter was carefully withdrawn, Mei Ling giving a little shudder and yelp as it slipped out of her behind. The dildo also slid out of her throbbing, satisfied pussy, its shaft sheened in her sweet juices. All of the assembled apparatus was quietly drawn back into the series of floor panels, and Mei Ling was left in peace.

The crowd’s hearty applause barely registered to her, as she laid back in the chair, concentrating on her breathing, happy and satiated.

Sally knew what she had to say next. But she didn’t want to hurry it. Instead, she just enjoyed the sight of their handiwork for a while, watching Mei Ling’s chest rise and fall, globs of cream slowly oozing down that fit, athletic body. She and Alexa shared some pleased, conspiratorial glances.

After a minute or so, she decided it was time.

“Marvellous. Simply marvellous,” she cooed. “But… I have to say…”

This pricked Mei Ling’s ears up. Surely not. What more could they possibly do to her?

But then… she was still bound into the chair, wasn’t she? Now she realised it had to be for some purpose. So she listened intently.

“What is it, Sally?”

“It’s just… you know, my very favourite type of clown show… is one where there’s a little troupe. Messing about together. Getting up to antics.”

Now she understood. And despite her orgasmic exhaustion, her heart fluttered with excitement at the very thought of it.

“I have to agree, darling. And thankfully, we can make that happen, can’t we?”

Sally nodded happily, as Alexa called out towards Mei Ling. “Oh sweetie… are you ready to meet some clown friends? Just for one last funny routine?”

The gooey girl in the chair gave a trepidatious giggle. “Um… okay!”

“Perfect. Send them in!”

IX: Down to Clown

The comedic music ramped up again, and Mei Ling cast her eyes towards the wings of the set. The first thing she saw was the gleaming metal edge of a catering trolley - unsurprisingly, it was fully laden with large, gooey pies. And behind it, steadily pushing, was a beautiful clown-boy.

His face, naturally, was painted white, adorned with similar colourful touches to her own (now-destroyed) makeup, and a round red nose like hers. He wore a goofy, curly wig, its bright green locks shaking as he walked. But below all that, there was a bare chest, with lightly tanned skin, a delicate coating of auburn hair, and beautifully defined muscles.

The chest wasn’t entirely bare, in fact - a pair of red elasticated braces looped over his shoulders, holding up the high waistband of his harlequin-patterned shorts.

They were quite unlike any other shorts she’d seen before, though, what with the large diamond-shaped opening at the crotch, through which Josh’s enormous, stiff cock and firm balls were openly visible.

The sight of it made her eyes widen, and her thighs tighten.

Josh was followed by two more handsome lads, both dolled up in the same silly yet obscene outfit, pushing their own trolleys of sweet treats. There was Mickey, a lean Black man with handsome green eyes and a kind smile. And there was Pablo, the most musclebound of the three, with his olive-coloured skin and coarse, black body hair.

Mei Ling didn’t even know their names yet. But she did know that she wanted their strong hands all over her, and more besides.

They didn’t say a word as they approached, encircling her prone form, leaving their creamy ammunition within easy reach. Mei Ling met their eyes in turn, giving the most alluring, filthy smile she could muster. Wolf-whistles from the crowd rang out across the studio.

“Hello boys.”

Matching her hungry smirk, each of the men reached behind them, picking up a pie and hefting it with intent. It made her squirm in delight just to see it.

“Oh dear! Whatever are you planning to do with those?” she squealed girlishly, as if she hadn’t already been hit with at least a hundred of the things.

The three clown-boys stepped closer, looming over her, smouldering and silent. Pablo and Mickey flanked her, standing either side of her reclined chest, just below her spread arms. And Josh nestled himself between her thighs.

Watching each other, carefully co-ordinating their timing, they hefted the sloppy flans upwards. Mei Ling keened a high note of slutty excitement. “Eee-eeep!”

Two pies collided with a mighty squelch into her face, and the third one smacked hard against her bare pussy. Her legs shuddered violently.

Josh cast his mind back to Alexa’s briefing before the show.

“Now remember, boys. It’s called the Clown Pounder. Not the Clown Cuddler, or the Clown Caresser. Whoever’s in that chair, I want you to be a little rough with them. Not nasty - but no gentle teases or sweet kisses, either. They need hard splats, a mouth full of cock, and a good firm fucking.”

Alexa’s they was intentional, here. Sure, with GungeWorld’s cast demographics, the fateful seat was more likely to be occupied by a hot femme. But on the day, she wanted no-one to be safe. She’d prepared a different routine of creamy assaults and sensual toys in case the Clown Pounder was occupied by a boy. And she’d chosen these three lads for the finale, as she knew they were comfortable fucking guys as well as girls.

That wasn’t entirely uncommon at GungeWorld, seeing as it already appealed to the sexually adventurous and open-minded. Sally had bought a custom sign for the office kitchen that made Alexa chuckle: You don’t have to be bisexual to work here, but it helps.

---

Mickey and Pablo both picked up another pie, and Josh this time scooped one up in each hand.

Mei Ling felt the firm press of a palm against her forehead, guiding her head to the left. Once she assented, she immediately felt the head of Mickey’s cock pressing against her cream-smeared lips with clear intent.

She wasted no time, moaning softly in delight as she opened her mouth and thrust her lips over his prick, slicking it with white goo and hot saliva, thrusting hungrily back and forth like a good little clown-whore.

But then, after a few seconds, Mickey bucked his hips back, suddenly withdrawing his member from her mouth. As Mei Ling let out a helpless “ah” of surprise, he pied her hard in the face, calorific gunk filling her open mouth. At the same time, Josh brought his double-handful down to splatter spectacularly on her thick thighs.

She didn’t even get a chance to spit out the white glop before her head was turned towards Pablo, and he thrust between her lips. The taste of his dick against her tongue, coated in sugary cream, was intoxicating. But once again, it was short-lived. He pulled out of her mouth just as Mickey had, and slapped her in the face with another flan, while Josh delivered another splurge to her aching, hungry quim.

Her head was assertively turned again, and Mickey got another go in Mei Ling’s warm, drooling mouth. She was beginning to moan, a muted “mmm-mmm” emerging around the stiff muscle filling her face. Mei Ling always knew she had a submissive side, but she was shocked by how wonderful this felt, being passed from cock to cock like a helpless little fucktoy.

Another pie filled her face, along with one bursting against her cute belly from Josh. It was blissful agony, knowing he was standing between her legs for a reason, waiting for the gorgeous moment he’d finally plunge himself deep inside her. She hungrily slurped at Pablo’s prick for a second time, saliva and slop oozing from her lips. He withdrew again, and she gasped happily through yet another splat to the cheeks. And then it was finally time.

One more cool, sloppy pie smothered her pussy’s twitching lips. And then, gripping Mei Ling’s hips, Josh thrust his cock firmly into her snatch.

“Oh ye-eee-esss!”

It was everything she had hoped for. He was wide and sturdy, massaging her within, expertly angled to set her wailing and gasping with delight.

Mickey permitted Mei Ling a few moments to loudly proclaim her ecstasy, before he once again manoeuvred her head, slipping his member assertively into her mouth. And this time, he didn’t withdraw after a few pleasurable thrusts.

She understood his intention, and expertly employed her soft lips and firm, lithe tongue, trying to pleasure him as intensely as she could, moaning all the while.

Her groans of delight heightened when Pablo splattered his next pie directly onto her right breast, giving it a firm, sticky grope, and repeating the trick on the other side. 

As Josh continued to pound away between her legs, making her spine tingle with every squishy thrust of his mighty cock, Mei Ling heard grunting from Mickey, and felt him start to shudder. A few seconds later, she felt his cum start to spurt powerfully into her mouth. It tasted like heaven. She gratefully slurped down every last salty drop, while Pablo splurged her gorgeous tits with more cream.

Mickey’s legs shook gently as he slid his penis out of Mei Ling’s smiling, gasping mouth. They locked eyes, and she looked up at him with the most devilish, filthy smile. But she was soon distracted by Josh noticeably upping his intensity, fucking her with relentless strength and vigour, gripping her sticky hips tightly.

“Unh! Yes…”

Pablo’s turn, now. He drew her head towards her, and she hungrily took his shaft into her mouth, insensible with horniness, ravenous for more spunk. Through her muffled, drooling groans, she massaged his rock-hard cock with her talented mouth, and it wasn’t long before Pablo reached the point of no return.

“Nggh, I’m gonna…”

“Mmmph, glp, blff…”

His hot cum spilled over her cheeks and tongue just as Mickey slapped her breasts with another filthy splurge, and she shuddered in joy.

Pablo withdrew his still-firm dick, breathless and satiated. Mei Ling continued to babble, her mouth now able to form vowel sounds, but her synapses not functioning enough to conjure coherent words. Josh was quite literally fucking her brains out.

“Fuh, gaaah! Yeee-mmm-hhh…”

He’d shown impressive stamina so far, but the sight and sound of this gorgeous, moaning, writhing, pie-covered, cock-loving clown slut, and the feel of her warm, tight cunt, was incredibly powerful. Glancing at his two colleagues, ensuring they were properly armed with a pie in each hand, he finally permitted himself to let loose.

Mei Ling sensed Josh’s motion slowing to a climactic series of thrusts, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Aaah, aaah, aaah…”

First, she felt the gorgeous stickiness of Josh’s cum, a handsomely large load erupting into her. And barely half a second later, the decadent sensation of cold cream pies bursting with force over her face and tits.

The explosion of cream was matched with an explosion of ecstasy, as Mei Ling rushed headlong into a fierce, heartstopping climax. Her limbs felt beyond her control, juddering in their restraints as blasts of pleasure rippled through them. Spitting gunk from her mouth, she let out a series of low, primal groans.

“Haaanh, haaanh, haaanh…”

She felt Josh slip gently out of her with a satisfied sigh. And soon after, that beautiful slow ooze of his cum from her still-twitching slit, pooling on the gunk-smeared leather of the seat.

It took a while for her to regain some composure and regulate her breathing, though the campfire-warmth of her orgasm still radiated around her body. All the while, the audience showed their loud appreciation, with whistles and whoops and cheers and applause.

Mei Ling lay there, still bound and helpless, but utterly blissed-out, smiling at the sound of the crowd. She purred softly with satisfaction - the cat who got the cream, quite literally.

Alexa and Sally joined in, though their slow clap clued the audience in that they wanted to speak now, and the rapt applause tailed off into a quiet hubbub. They wandered closer to the scene of the messy carnage, standing just outside of this perverted circle of entertainers.

“Wonderful,” said Alexa. “Simply wonderful. Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

“A tour de force. What a way to demonstrate the art of clowning.”

Over in the chair, Mei Ling gave a quiet sigh, happy at the praise.

“Boys! You are a fabulously talented supporting cast. But I don’t think there’s any doubt who was the star of the show.”

Now it was the male clowns’ turn to politely applaud Mei Ling, bowing a little in deference.

“And she really did get splattered, didn’t she?” said Sally. “My word. What a mess!”

“Indeed. Maybe we should clean her off a little?”

Oh no. This didn’t sound good. She just wanted to sit here, swaddled in her gorgeous, sticky cocoon, for a while longer. Blinking goo from her eyes, she looked pleadingly at the hosts, and tried to think on her feet.

“Uh… it’s… I’m fine, actually…”

“Don’t worry Mei Ling, it’s no trouble!” replied Alexa, in her usual brash tone. “Have you got anything that might help, boys?”

“Yes, actually,” said Josh, reaching onto the bottom rack of his empty dessert trolley, and lifting the handle of a blue plastic bucket, holding it in front of his chest. The other two did the same, and Mei Ling let out little meek cries of protest. “No, please…”

“We’ve got these buckets of ice water. Will they do?”

“Ice?” Mei Ling’s face was a picture of outrage - somewhat undermined, of course, by being covered in cream, with a huge red nose in the middle. “No, don’t! I’ve been… I’ve been a good little…”

“Sounds perfect! Ready? In three… two… one…”

The lads swung their buckets back and forth as Alexa counted down, Mei Ling squirming for her dear life, trying to ready herself for the freezing rush, the prickly pain of the ice water.

“Splash ‘er!”

“Gaaaah!”

Mei Ling braced herself, every muscle tensed, steeling herself for the moment of impact.

Which didn’t come.

“Huh? Wha…?”

She opened her eyes and saw it: a billowing cloud of rainbow-coloured paper confetti, fluttering through the air above her body.

From the stands, the biggest laugh of the evening resonated through the studio. Mei Ling felt the morsels of paper start to settle softly against her, sticking to the cream. And she began to laugh too.

“Aha! Ahaha, a-haa haa haa…”

“Gotcha!” teased Alexa. “Oldest clown trick in the book!”

From this point, Mei Ling barely registered a word that was said, as the two hosts wrapped up the segment and elicited yet more enthusiastic plaudits for their magically messy clown. She was too busy laughing, loud and long, full of delight and relief and satisfaction.

Even after her restraining chair rotated back into the wall, and the Stagehands approached to help her get free and clean, she was still giggling with joy.

Fittingly enough, it was Missy who undid her manacles, while another girl stood ready with a towel and fluffy gown. But at this moment, there was no cocky flirting from Missy - just a steely smile, and a look of genuine admiration.

“How was that?”

Mei Ling let out one last chuckle.

“Made ‘em laugh,” she replied. “And that’s the main thing, right?”

Fin