The line is barely moving. I glance at the monitors above the gate, then at the sterile printed sign warning of the list of required liquids. "I just don't understand why we even have this agency." I grumble.
"Shh, they'll hear you!" you whisper tersely.
"It's just that since we've discovered limitless energy, there is no more war or violence and everyone has more than enough food, why do we even bother having a TSA?" I observe matter-of-factly.
Your voice raises above a whisper, mainly out of annoyance. "The Travel Sliming Administration serves an important role in ensuring that air travel doesn't become too comfortable." you scold, reading aloud from the brochure. Others in line glance up at us nervously. A distant uniformed agent glances our direction, then grows bored and returns to staring at her computer monitor.
The line proceeds and we reach the clear polycarbonate box ahead. You lift your bags into the waterproof bin and see to it they make their way onto the conveyor belt, then step into the box. You raise your hands as instructed and the attractive TSA agent pushes a button on her console. You giggle as a thin yellow gunge sprays your head, splattering your hair and drips down your top. The clear door slides open again and you push your dripping hair out of your eyes as you step carefully out of the tank and look back at me. Before I can enter the box, the blonde agent places her hand on my chest. "Not so fast, Mister, you've been randomly selected for a secondary gunging." I sigh as I see you shake your head and cover your eyes. "Every single time" I see you mouth.

The gorgeous blonde leads me behind the counter to a tarped area cordoned off with stanchions. "Remove your belt, shoes, and shirt please." the blonde orders. I dutifully obey. She watches me closely, a smirk forming on her lips. In the distance I see a scowl forming on yours.

The attractive agent tugs on a pair of blue nitrile gloves, allowing the gauntlets to snap ominously. She retrieves a roll of yellow TSA tape and bends at the waist smoothly, looping the tape securely around my ankle, securing one pantleg, then the other.

Tugging at the waistband of my pants, she slides a large rubber hose into the opening. A pump sounds, releasing a deep gurling sound. I shudder as I feel a wave of thick gooey frosting fill my pant legs. My arousal gets the better of me, and the agent takes notice, her smirk returning. She places two thick cream pies on the counter and tugs my waistband again, depositing one in my crotch and another against my butt. She releases my waistband and rubs both in with her gloved hands, then pats my butt playfully, and wraps several turns of yellow tape around my waist, sealing the mess inside. She hands me my shirt and belt, then fills my shoes with thick white glue before instructing me to put them back on. I wince as I plunge my toes into the thick, sticky glue as it splurts up my ankles and soaks into my socks.

She retrieves a bright blue stamp with the TSA logo and proceeds to press the rubbery stamp all over my chest and back. Once satisfied, she directs me back to the plexiglas box. I stand obediently, waiting patiently. Another rumbling gurgling sound echoes in the chamber and this time a thick, lumpy purple deluge slaps heavily down onto my head and shoulders, obliterating what little is left of my dignity. The other passengers are giggling nervously at my state. I wipe my eyes to restore my vision and step out of the box, shoes squelching comically with their messy contents and slime.

"Sir you forgot your hat!" the agent calls loudly. I turn, "I didn't have a ha..." but before I can protest, the giggling agent slaps a thick pie on top of my head, tilting the pie tin jauntily before smiling warmly. "Enjoy your flight." she grins. I roll my eyes.