everyone's got a public fantasy--

mine is to be pied by strangers. I'd like to be humiliated seemingly out of my control in public. I envy the people in game shows who get pulled out of a crowd and begrudgingly shamed and punished. you have to appear mortified and resistant. maybe offered money or a prize that validated any willingness to be humiliated even tho it would be happily enjoyed for free (as long as nobody realized it.)

ideal scenario: I'm chosen from a crowd encircling a tv crew in the street, even tho my hand wasn't raised. I'm offered one lucky spin for a prize. I reluctantly spin and the arrow lands on mystery bill.
they instruct me to choose a door from a row of 5 doors, all of which have different outfits, checks, and scenarios to be completed for the check. I choose the first door and it's an oversized silk clown onesie stuffed with pillowing, accessories, face paint and a headstock that is labeled PIES. The crowd laughs and groans. It also has a check for 8k. The crowd cheers. I shyly say something like "I guess no brainer--I need that money." The crowds cheers again and nods understanding.

next thing I know, I'm in circus grease paint, my hair done in a long high volume curly blowout. Inflatable shoes and oversized clown suit, fitting tight because of its foam stuffing. I get fastened into my headstock and walked to a stool with a target painted on its back. I'm anchored into the target and the crowd lines up each picking up one or two of the 50 syrupy creamy crusted pie tins that are waiting next to me jiggly and tall. for the next 30 minutes my hair and face are demolished piling up with crust and cream and chocolate and caramel streaks and fresh tins placed in my hands of the fallen fluff. The crowd did their worst slamming me with pies, never missing me. I'm unrecognizable and can feel the cream squishing inside my suit. Because my suit is already so oversized, the tons of weight added over me feels steady. They wipe my eyes and I see myself in a funhouse mirror and my stomach flips. I'm freed from the head stock and am told to to give myself a tin wig with last 4 six pies. I wipe my face to see and pick up a pie to put on top of my head. I put my red latex nose back on for some anonymity. I take two more for a sandwich on my sides. Finally I take the last pie and push it into the back of my hair. I feel a lot of things as I'm sent thru a human car wash to the changing room which squeezes my suit and my pie helmet into me making me feel even more lathered and squishy before I take my walk of shame thru production one last time.