(Short as in under 4,000 words this time!)

Maggie stood nervously alongside Marc Summers, both of them under the bright studio lights, and in the shadow of a regulation height basketball hoop. The basket towered over her, and she knew her lack of coordination were not about to set her up for success. She felt everyone's eyes on her. Her heart was racing.

She remembered the front hall, looking at the Wall of Shame, where each contestant in the framed photos seemed to get roughed up worse and worse, their dignity (and for some, their clothes) snatched away from them, replaced with pies, cakes, slime, and all other kinds of mess splattered all over their bodies.

Maggie even tried to resist, subtly tugging her boyfriend's arm when her party was approached by a producer of the What Would You Do? reboot to play what was characterized as "a very tame mini-game" that would open the show. Maggie and Liam were visiting his family's beach house in Daytona Beach, Florida. The entire family wanted to play. What kind of first impression would it make if Maggie was the only one to veto the idea?

The producer briefed them on the game. It would be a skills competition. She immediately intuited that Maggie was a guest of the family, so she would have the privilege of representing them all, while the rest of the family Maggie's boyfriend Liam, his younger sister Tara, and their parents Patty and Dave, all stood to the side and cheered her on.

All the pressure on her. And would this mean she would get messy too if she failed? She was dressed stylishly, a light pink tank top, an unbuttoned off-white collared sweater that fell to her knees, glossy navy blue leggings covering her long legs and meaty butt. Her straight dark brown hair fell right at her scapula. They were all going to dinner at the family's favorite steakhouse nearby after this. Please, don't let this get messy, she whispered to herself.

Back to the present. Maggie shifted nervously in her beige flats as a stagehand beckoned the crowd to cheer. The producer gestured a countdown from off camera. Three, two

The lights rose, and legendary host Marc Summers hit the ground running.

"Welcome everyone, to another edition of What Would You Do? How's everybody feeling?!

Loud applause.

"This is the show where we play all kinds of games, give audience members the chance to win fabulous prizes, all to ask them that sacred question, 'What Would You Do?'

"Today, I want to start off with a little mini-game. So I've got a young lady right here, hi, what's your name?"

Marc points his microphone at the contestant. "I'm Maggie."

"Where are you from, and what do you do, Maggie?"

"I'm from Philadelphia, and I just got a new job at a real estate agency!"

"Hey, congratulations! I'm sure you work very hard. Now I understand you have some people joining you today?"


"That's right," she continues. She gestures off-camera. "Right over there I've got my boyfriend Liam" she smiles sweetly at him as a second camera settles on the group "his sister Tara, and their parents."

"Very cool," Marc says. "And I'm sure they know you're gonna do great. So we've got a game for you to play, it's a physical challenge. I know you're tall, but I don't want to assume have you ever played basketball?"

"Haha, afraid not, sports aren't really my thing."

The crowd groans, and Maggie looks back at them with concern. Marc tries to inject some hope back into the situation. "Well that's okay, this doesn't require a whole lot of skill!"

He gestures at the mini-basketball court set up on the stage floor. "This game is called Beat the Clock. As you can see, we've got a basketball hoop set up in the studio. We also have these four mats."

Marc points to circular mats with the What Would You Do logo: one just left of the basket and almost directly beneath it, two on either side of a free throw line 15 feet away, and one final one straightaway, about 22 feet from the hoop.

"Maggie, your goal is simple. We'll have a rack of basketballs waiting for you at each station. All you have to do is make one shot from each station. If you can make all four shots in 45 seconds, you'll win a prize, dinner for your entire family at Sergio's Steakhouse right here in Daytona Beach!"

The crowd applauds heartily, but Maggie and her family are absolutely losing it. Sergio's was the Brazilian steakhouse they intended to visit right after the show! It was among the top 3 restaurants in town, and this dinner was intended to be the highlight of their trip.

"But that's not all! If you Beat the Clock, we've got another surprise for you. Robin, would you please?"


"Robin, would you please" has become the most unnerving phrase of the entire show. Because sure enough, entering from stage left, Robin wheels out a cart with four large whipped cream pies on it. Every mouth in the group drops open in shock as the audience predictably goes wild. The men try to stifle their surprise by looking down at the ground and scoffing to themselves in disbelief.

Marc addresses Maggie directly. "I was told that you're a guest of the family, and it was probably a little unfair of them to rope you into this game of ours. So if you ARE able to beat the clock, you'll all win dinner to Sergio's, but you, Maggie, you'll be able to take all of these pies and you can smash them in your boyfriend's and his entire family's faces, okay?

Maggie is beaming at the thought. She obviously wanted nothing more than to clown her new boyfriend to get back at him for all of the times he gently made fun of her. As for the rest of the family, she figured she could go easy on them. It'd make for a fun memory for all of them!

The crowd cheers even louder. But Marc still was not done.

"Now wait, wait, wait obviously we can't let those pies go to waste. So Maggie, if you DON'T beat the clock, do you know what happens then?

Maggie's smile turns to a frown. She buries her face in her hands. She nods yes from underneath her hands and mumbles, "They all get to pie me."

"That's exactly right, all four of those pies are going right in YOUR face. AND" Marc gestures at a spinning wheel mounted just to his left "as a bonus prize for losing the game, you get to spin our wonder wheel to see which of our wonderful pie machines you'll go to for your final punishment."

"So there's a lot at stake here, Maggie. You ready?"


"I really don't want to get messy, so I'm gonna win this!"

"Let's get you in position and let's beat the clock!!"

Maggie finds her way to the circle just to the left of the basket, where a rack of basketballs is waiting. She takes one, and gapes in awe at just how high the basket is above her. Her heart is beating out of her chest.

"On your mark! Get set! Go!"

The crowd begins cheering and an upbeat dance track starts playing in the studio as Maggie quickly begins putting up shots. Her first two shots are errant and slightly embarrassing, both of them hitting the underside of the rim. She tries tossing the ball directly into the basket, wasting precious time, before finally realizing that banking the ball off the backboard may be easier. Her first try misses, but the second one finally goes down.

She looks at the clock. 36 seconds left.

To the left side of the free throw line she goes. Here, she has to jump to get enough arc and force on the ball. Her first shot is an airball. The crowd groans, but quickly resumes its applause. Side rim on the second shot. Her third bounces off the backboard, then off the front rim and falls meekly away. Maggie's hair is flying everywhere at the momentum of her jumps, so she quickly brushes it away and chucks another airball. But her next shot is a perfect arc that sails through the hoop. Nothing but net.

22 seconds left. Her family is conflicted: nervous at the thought of missing out on this dinner, but relieved at not having to get pied. She really has to make up time now.

Over to the right side of the foul line. She's really moving now. She starts with a brick off the front rim. Then a brick off the left side of the rim. Her third shot misses the rim altogether, striking the backboard before bouncing away. She briefly composes herself and proceeds to chuck an ugly looking spinner that banks off the backboard and miraculously finds its way in.

Three down, one to go. 13 seconds left.

She sprints to the three-point line and just starts heaving. The basket is too far away for her shots to reach with a smooth jump shot alone, so she starts shooting from her waist, sacrificing accuracy for distance. Her first shot is an airball. She wants to freak out but has no time to dwell on the embarrassing miss. Her second shot misses everything to the right.

Five seconds left. Time for maybe two more.

She throws up another prayer that hits the top of the backboard and bounds away. She grabs one more ball and chucks it as the buzzer sounds

It hits the front of the rim, the backboard, side iron, and hits the floor. Game over.

"Oh no!" Marc exclaims, as he re-enters the frame and puts his arm around Maggie. "You were so close, it was right there! What happened?"

Hands on her knees, gasping for breath, and disheartened, Maggie can't even find the words. "I just I don't know I can't believe I missed it."

"Well Maggie," Marc says condescendingly, "the fact is, you did miss it. So you were off target on those shots, but I know exactly what's going to be right on target.

"Robin, can we give the rest of the family those pies?"

The crowd rises to its feet. iPhones start coming out of pockets, cameras pointed directly at Maggie as she awaits her punishment.

Maggie shuffles nervously, brushes her long hair behind her ears, and awaits her creamy fate. Not wanting to sacrifice her favorite sweater, she takes her top layer off and tosses it to the side, leaving her somewhat exposed in just her pink tank top and glossy navy tights. Robin hands each family member a pie, all of them stacked so high that excess cream starts dropping off them and splattering at their feet. Maggie again buries her face in her hands. This time, though, her boyfriend is there to grab her left hand and bring it down to her waist. Getting the point, Maggie relents and drops her other hand in resignation.

As always, Marc twists the knife on his victim. "So Maggie, you got promoted recently. Anything you'd like to say to your new team? To the people who you might be taking to home viewings on Monday?"

"Oh my god, don't pie me, guys!"

"It's too late for begging, Maggie." Marc gives the command. "On the count of three, let's treat our lovely corporate director Maggie to a niiiice helping of dessert. OK, audience!"

"ONE! TWO! THREE!"

A succession of humiliating PLUNK! sounds play in the studio in rapid succession as they all go to town on Liam's new girlfriend, instantly turning her world white. Maggie screams from underneath a violent pie sandwich delivered by Liam's parents. Blueberry pie filling, whipped cream, and graham cracker crust fly in every direction, with some side splatter even hitting the innocent family members themselves. Most of the goo ends up all over Maggie's head and gorgeous hair, and begins trickling down her pink top, leaving white dark blue stains all the way down.

Tara waits for the pie tins to fall before delivering a direct hit right to Maggie's face. An audible moan comes from under the cream pie as Maggie is again overwhelmed. Both of Maggie's arms shudder in surprise at the force of the hit. Tara rubs the cherry-filled pie around her face before sending it up over Maggie's head, adding a coating of red to the blue already soaking her hair. Maggie comes up sputtering, pie falling out of her mouth and nose onto her shirt and to the floor.

Not to be outdone, Liam, a butt guy, delivers a hard pie spanking to Maggie's ass. The pie explodes right as Tara sent hers over Maggie's head, leaving Maggie's face exposed to deliver her biggest 'O' face.

A camera was fortunate enough to be in position to capture the carnage, her navy blue leggings and her butt cheeks rippling out from the force of the hit and taking on a range of colors: white whipped cream, golden butterscotch pudding, and brown pie crust. Gobs of pie begin to slide down Maggie's thighs as she feels her now sticky, wet ass with her hands, tries to remove the cream (only smearing it around in the process), and flicks the pie slop helplessly to the floor.

All four family members start laughing and licking wayward pie off their fingers, all while Maggie stands there sputtering pie slop, trying in vain to claw it out of her hair, face, inside her tank top, and off her butt.

And of course, the ordeal wasn't over.

"Maggie, don't forget!" Marc said. He guides her gently over to the spinning wheel, where her options lay before her:
The Torture Chamber (the former Pie Pod/Pie Wash combo)
The Dunk Tank (a long ladder to a platform 15 feet above the stage, which dropped its victim directly into a vat of whipped cream)
The Pie Coaster (self-explanatory)
The Pie Slide (a chair that descended a ramp and dumped its victim face down into a comically large pie)
And a few others with mysterious names:
"Cruci-pied"
Human Fondue"
Marc wasn't telling about those last two, and Maggie didn't want to know.

She reluctantly grabs a peg on the wheel and gives it a spin. It whirls around and around, all while Maggie continues trying to clear her face and body of pie mess in vain. It won't make a difference; the wheel slows to a crawl before finally coming to a stop on "The Torture Chamber."

The audience goes berserk, having seen victims of the device plastered all over the front hall. Marc guides an anxiety-ridden Maggie over to the torture device, passing the rest of the family along the way. Between licks of their fingers, they applaud her in support, yelling, "YOU'VE GOT THIS, GIRL!"

But Maggie definitely does not got this. She reluctantly approaches the chair and grimaces when she gingerly sits her pie-covered ass on the seat. She feels the coolness of the cream soaking her bare bottom underneath her pants. Maggie surveys her surroundings. Like last time, the Pie Pod portion of the device has been loaded with four large sheet cakes, each of which have a word in frosting on them that reads "What Would You Do?" from left to right. Nozzles high above her head surround her, and a bucket of god knows what is suspended directly above.

Finally, out of sight to her family but in plain sight to her, right at floor level, are four fake penises that do not look very friendly.

A stagehand locks her wrists to the armrests, her ankles to the chair's legs, and straps her in at the waist.

Marc once again gets the last word in. "Anything you want to say to your new family over there?"

All Maggie can do is giggle nervously and mumbles out something that sounds like, "I can't."

"Well," Marc says confusedly. "Not sure what that means, but I am sure about what's going to happen. Family, can you all join me please?"

They make their way over to Marc to get a better vantage point of this carnage.

"Mom, when we're ready to go, I want you to say 1. Tara, then you say 2, and Liam, 3, and then we'll see what happens to your lovely girlfriend."

Liam looks at Maggie with sad eyes. On one hand, he wishes he could do anything to help. On the other, this could end up being really, really funny.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we challenged Maggie to a simple physical challenge, but she couldn't do it, and now she has to face the messy consequences. On the count of three, here we go!"

He points the microphone at each family member in succession.

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

And with that, an overhead nozzle fires a jet of cream right at Maggie's groin. Cream hits her shiny leggings hard, spraying out in all directions and quickly soaking them. Maggie feels the cream penetrating the fabric and even seeping through her underwear, but with restraints around her hips and her ankles, there's nothing she can do but sit there and take it.

But the Torture Chamber is just getting started. Like last time, Steve Aoki's "CAKE FACE!!" suddenly blares, the beat drops, and Maggie's screams are silenced when a massive sheet cake explodes all over her face. Maggie's mouth gets stuffed with buttercream and strawberry filling as the cardboard base on which the cake sat breaks in half on impact with her face.

Her pink top survived the first hit, but it never stood a chance of making it unscathed. Cake #2 pounds Maggie's face yet again, this time making impact with her collarbone and breasts. Her diamond necklace, a birthday gift from Liam, immediately disappears under frosting and red velvet, as does her pink tank top, which takes on so much buttercream. Maggie feels it seeping inside her shirt and smearing her breasts. Cake remnants nestle inside her bra and leave a trail down her stomach, the tank top beginning to sag under the weight of the cakes.

Then, a piercing scream. The jet working the front of Maggie's pants stops, giving way to another beneath her seat. This jet was positioned right between Maggie's ass cheeks and delivers a forceful blast right between her butt cheeks. Despite the presence of the pie-stained leggings and her thong underwear, Maggie still receives the shock of her life, with cold wet cream forcing its way through the two layers and into and up her butt crack. Still restrained tightly to the seat, Maggie can barely squirm.

As she does with cake #3, which clobbers the left side of her head, deafening her left ear and mashing another layer of cake and blueberry filling into her face and hair. At this point, Maggie's brown hair is unrecognizable, heavy, tangled and matted to her body in shades of white, blue, red, and pink anything but the golden hue it was just a few minutes ago.

The dance beat continues to pulsate as cake #4 demolishes her with one last direct hit. Its force is so hard that it forces Maggie's neck back, her head banging into the padded headrest behind her. Like Kate Winslet's hand in the carriage in the Titanic, the cake smears a trail all the way down her body, landing in her lap and leaving more buttercream stains on her clothes. These might never be worn again.

The jet beneath Maggie's seat stops and the music comes down, but only for an array of other jets to start up. Maggie screams yet again as her chair begins to spin. Four nozzles situated at various angles above her head shoot streams of cream at their target, showering her top half in thick yet runny cream. It's forceful enough to blast cake out of the way and start tossing her hair about, and manages to find its way into every nook and cranny: into the holes in Maggie's ears and into her mouth, causing cream to dribble out when the seat mercifully stops rotating. Her favorite pink top has been soaked through, all but in tatters as it sags low on her body, exposing her beige bra underneath, it too smothered in cream.

Just when she thinks it's over though, it's not. The moment the chair stops spinning, the bucket suspended above Maggie's head releases, unloading its contents all over her. 10 gallons of bright, thick green slime destroy her all over again, forcing cream, cake, and pie down to the ground and soaking her one more time. Maggie, who never wanted to play this godforsaken game, is now an unrecognizable green blob, the only remnants of her clothes being a little bit of navy blue still somehow poking out at her ankles. Her lovely pink tank top: destroyed. Her cute leggings that worked as well at Orangetheory as they did at date night: obliterated. Her white flats: wrecked. Her hair: annihilated. Her face: clobbered with seemingly every color of the rainbow. It was as if The Hulk himself exploded all over her.

But it would be something else unloading on her this time. Because unbeknownst to her, rising from the base of the Torture Machine were the four fake penises, all aiming directly at her face. Her eyes caked shut with cake batter, her ears deafened by cake remnants, all Maggie could hear was the faint sound of a man having an orgasm which was deafening in the studio until it stopped, and the next thing she knew, warm jets of thick cream blast her between the eyes. Maggie cries out in agony as her face gets blasted three, four, five times. Finally the ropes of cream begin to slow down, but not before one last agonizing yell from the fake man, followed by one final giant blast into Maggie's face.

With the ordeal finally over, Marc made sure to get Maggie's firsthand account. "Maggie, do you think next time you'll be a little better at playing basketball?"

"Ugh, you broke my nose!!"

"Aw, that's too bad," Marc shrugs. "So how's that for an intro folks? Stay right where you are, there's so much more What Would You Do? right after this commercial break!"

After four pies, four cakes, one sliming, and seven jets of cream shot at and into her body, Maggie is totally exhausted. Not wanting to ruin the ecstasy of her punishment with a shot of the family's pained faces, the producers ushered them off the set and backstage before cutting to break, leaving Maggie to sit in the Torture Chamber completely alone.

Robin approaches her with a single towel and undoes the restraints, freeing Maggie from her torment. She wipes her eyes, just in time to see the monitors showing a slow-motion replay of her boyfriend's family bashing her with pies, and then a cut to her numerous faces in the Torture Chamber before four massive cakes wiped Maggie off the face of the planet.

If Maggie wanted to make a first impression on her boyfriend's family, she certainly made one today.