Fair warning! This is a long story, and it features both a guy and a girl getting messy. They each get it separately, so it's still readable even if you only fancy one gender.

--
What Would You Do? is back for its 30th anniversary, and midway through its pilot, it's already proving much sloppier than its predecessor. For a previous segment, Marc Summers hand-picked a contestant, Jamie, from the audience to play a game, and he ended up getting pied in the face three times during the game, then got five more pies, and got covered in cream and pink slime when he was sent to the combo Pie Pod/Pie Wash contraption dubbed "The Pie Machine."

And there was Marc, shedding the impression of the fun, whimsical host of old, reveling in Jamie's punishment alongside the audience. That Jamie didn't even raise his hand to volunteer to play showed that in this reboot, no one in the audience was safe. And as the taping of the pilot neared its conclusion, Marc had more sinister ideas in mind.

Jamie's game: https://umd.net/stories/yoga-challenge--a-what-would-you-do-gam


Part I: The Setup
"It's time for our final game, ladies and gentlemen!" Marc exclaimed, receiving back applause from the audience. "And this time, we've got a basket of cash and gifts for our lucky winners! I need two people for this one." Hands again shoot up, trusting that what happened to Jamie won't happen to them. Marc begins scanning the crowd for a couple of marks.

For this reboot, audience members had to be 18 or older to attend. Many chalked it up to Comedy Central acquiring the rights to the show and airing it in a late-night timeslot. Knowing that college students and twenty-somethings tended to be the most open to participating in the edgy stunts this segment contained, Marc set his sights on the youngest members of his audience. "Looking for a guy and girl. A young guy, and a young lady, perhaps."

He spots a young brunette with her hand raised high, and points right at her. "You, in the blue tank top, why don't you head up to the stage?" Her smile grows wide, as she raises both fists in the air and walks down the steps to the set.

Marc continues wandering the audience, and sees a young man with glasses and a stylish haircut that he wants. "Aaaand you there! Yes, you! Join me, will you please?" Similarly, the guy's smile expands as he whoops and practically sprints to join his new game partner.

It'll be quite a while before they smile again.

The audience, many of them disappointed to not have been chosen themselves, nevertheless applaud warmly as Marc joins his contestants on stage. Marc's stagehand Melissa silently moves a spinning prize wheel toward them.

Marc begins the introductions. "Ma'am, can you tell me your name, your age, and where you're from, please?"

"I'm Alice. I'm 26, and I'm visiting from the UK!"

Alice's accent may be British, but her look is 100 percent American. And she is stunning. Her chest-length brown hair done up as though she knew she'd be on TV today, Alice nevertheless made an effort to look casual, with a baby blue tank top that accentuated her C-cup breasts and left plenty of skin exposed, plus black leggings that perfectly shaped her lower half. They made her legs look like they went on forever, and though the cameras couldn't capture it, they made her ass look like a snack. If you asked her, she'd tell you this was her favorite outfit. She felt all the eyes on her and the power that conferred.

Taken aback by the juxtaposition of her all-American look and her very British accent, Marc responds, "Alice, your accent is absolutely charming!"

Her partner, like every other guy in the audience, is smitten. Alice's tank top is revealing but still tasteful, and he can't help but stare at her legs, a decent consolation prize since he can't quite make out her butt from where he stands. His daydream abruptly ends when he hears a voice addressing him.

"Sir? Anyone home?"

"Oh, sorry!" Scott says, to scattered laughs from the audience. He got caught ogling someone on national TV. Bad start.

"What's your name, how old are you, and where are you from?"

"I'm Scott, I'm 27, and I'm from New Jersey. I'm so excited to be here!"

Scott looks straight out of a J. Crew catalog: preppy, with tortoise shell eyeglasses and hair combed to one side and held together probably by some high-end product. Unlike his J. Crew counterparts though, he appears to have spent considerably less time on his look than Alice: other than his hair, he looks like he just got out of bed, wearing a charcoal-colored slim-fitting V-neck t-shirt and, strangely, zebra-striped skinny pants. He clearly comes off as one of those fashion-forward, gender-bending, "clothes are genderless" types. You could feel the eyes rolling back in people's heads as they make their snap judgments. To be fair, the stripes created an optical illusion that somehow made his butt look just as incredible as Alice's. She attempted to sneak a peek over at him as well.

Marc can't help but chide him for being from where he's from. "Well, New Jersey is a lot less exciting than the UK, but it's good to have you as well."

He gets into the details of the game. "Now, the two of you were picked to play our final game of the day, and if you win, you'll each win our grand prize: $500 cash, and a brand-new 55-inch 4K TV!" The audience cheers enthusiastically.

"If you lose, though, things won't end well for you, as Jamie found out in our yoga game a little earlier." Both Scott and Alice shuffle their feet nervously, each shooting a "please don't screw this up" glance at each other.

Marc continued, "But the good news is, you get to decide what game you'll play!" Gesturing to the prize wheel, he says, "This is the Wheel O' Stuff! Here, we've got a bunch of games. One of you will spin the wheel, and whatever it lands on is what we'll play."

It was impossible to decipher how to play any of the potential options, though with a quick glance, anyone could intuit that they all ended with one or both of the contestants getting messy. The games had names like Squirrely Syrups, Peanut Butter Passion, and Saucy Slam Dunk.

"So Alice, would you please do us the honor of spinning the wheel?"

Alice grabs a peg and whips it down, the wheel whirring for a while before it slows enough to bring the game names into focus. The camera zooms in as the wheel slows to a stop, on a game called "Cream My Pants."

The focus switches to a wide shot of Marc and the contestants, as the audience oohs in curiosity. Marc looks at his 3x5 cards and finds the one describing this game.

"Cream My Pants!" Marc shouts. "This is a good one! It's a trivia game, so before we get going, I'll need you to settle on who's going to be answering the questions. So which one of you is better at trivia?"

Scott and Alice look at each other uncertainly, attempting to silently communicate. Each of them points at the other, then themselves, then back at the other. Finally, Scott jumps in. "I'll answer the questions."

Marc says, "Great! Scott's gonna get set up, and while he does, let's take a short break. Don't go anywhere, we've got a lot more fun coming on What Would You Do?"

The audience applause dies down, and Marc once again drops his friendly shtick. He goes up to Scott and Alice and says under his breath, "We don't have the budget for these prizes. You guys don't stand a chance." They look at each other very nervously.


Part II: Cream My Pants
The stage director counts Marc back in, and he flips back to his fun-loving personality. "We're back here on What Would You Do, and Scott and Alice are about to play Cream My Pants!"

A chair has been wheeled out for Scott to sit in. Somewhat reminiscent of an electric chair, it is made of polished wood with a padded seat and back, and has restraints for both wrists.

"Scott, take a seat in this chair, please!" Scott shoots Marc a look that screams, "Are you serious?!" He hesitates, but knows he volunteered to do this, so he finally sits. Melissa straps his arms in place.

"Now Alice, it's time to take you to where you'll be observing this game from. Are you familiar with our Pie Coaster?"

She shakes her head no.

"Oh, you are going to enjoy this!" He gestures toward the small rollercoaster on the opposite end of the stage. "We sit you on the chair up there, and if we hit a magic button, you get to go alllll the way down the track and straight into that giant pie at the end. It's a little old American tradition! So Melissa, would you please take Alice to the Pie Coaster?"

The crowd lets loose an ohhh, and Alice's mouth opens wide in disbelief. She thought she'd play a game! Her mouth remains open in shock as Melissa casually takes her by the wrist and guides her up to the Pie Coaster.

One of the least messy pie contraptions on the original show, the Pie Coaster has been redesigned to properly destroy its victims. The ride still begins atop a seven-foot-high platform. Still in place are the two tissue paper barriers for riders to rip through, one reading "What Would" and the other reading "You Do?"; still in place is a massive pie angled vertically at the end of the track, ready for a rider to slam right through it.

But two small cream cannons have been added between the first and the second barriers, one on each side of the track, aimed right at where someone's head and chest would be at the exact moment they broke through the first barrier.

And the carriage, originally enclosed like a bumper car, now resembles a gaming chair: two small arm rests, a strap at the waist, but completely open in the front, leaving the rider to take the full brunt of the pie's massive payload. Not even a helmet. If Alice is driven through the pie, her tank top might never be worn again. Her favorite leggings likely wouldn't make it either.

Alice is buckled in, clearly more nervous than she was even a minute ago.

The attention flips back to Marc, standing next to Scott in the executioner's chair. "Now Scott, your job is to save yourself, AND your new friend Alice up there. The way to do this is to answer trivia questions. You have 90 seconds to get seven correct answers. If you do that, not only are you and Alice freed, you also win the money and the TVs! How does that sound?" Marc sticks his mic in Scott's face.

"Yeah, I, I like the sound of that," Scott responds. The anxiety on his face is palpable.

"Now, if you get a question right, you'll hear this sound." A ding plays.

"But, if you get a question wrong, you won't hear about it. Melissa, can we get Scott set up, please?"

Unbeknownst to Scott, a small hose is attached to the back of the chair, and connected to a tank beneath the seat. Melissa grabs the hose, pulls open Scott's pants and his underwear and shoves the nozzle of the hose inside. With his hands restrained, Scott can do little but gasp loudly and show his discomfort across his face. Melissa lets go of Scott's tight pants, which snap back to his waist and conveniently lock the nozzle in place. The audience collectively emits a low groan, perhaps the sound of relief that they weren't picked for this game.

"Scott, if you get a question wrong, you'll feel it. You'll get a blast of cream in your pants, hence the name of the game."

Marc gestures to a small table next to him, with a replica of the hose set up, aimed at a see-through bucket.

"Here's what that'll be like."

PRRRRRFFFF!! A sudden blast of cream squirts from the nozzle into the bucket, some of it caroming off the bottom and squirting back out toward Marc. The force leads to gasps from many in the audience. The camera cuts to Scott, who looks terrified, but of course, can't back out now. There's a grand prize and a woman to save. His hero complex is just too strong, especially for someone as attractive as Alice.

"If you're unable to give me seven correct answers in 90 seconds, you'll hear this sound." A loud foghorn echoes throughout the studio. "And Alice's chair will automatically start, sending her down the What Would You Do Pie Coaster and into that pie!"

The audience cheers wildly. Once on the fence about cheering for snobby-looking Scott to save the day and win the grand prize, they're now firmly on the side of carnage.

Melissa, now atop the platform next to the seated Alice, takes over and asks, "Alice, if Scott over there fails, you face the consequences! Anything you want to say to him?"

"He'd better save me, if he knows what's good for him!"

Marc takes over. "Wow, okay! All the pressure is on you Scott, either win the game, or our lovely British friend Alice gets a nice Welcome to America gift courtesy of the What Would You Do Pie Coaster! The clock starts when I finish reading the first question let's get 90 seconds on the clock, and let's play Cream My Pants!"


Marc: "Name the first ten digits of pi."

Scott: "Oh, uh. 3 point one four, one five nine, two. Uh. Sssssix, eight "

Prrfffff! Scott's scream pierces the studio as the first blast of cream explodes into his underwear. His wrists bang against the restraints and his body jerks up violently as his dick gets shoved to the side. A look over at Alice finds her hand covering her mouth, eyes wide in shock at the brutality of it all.

79 seconds remain. He wasted so much time, all for a wrong answer.


Marc doesn't wait though Scott is still squirming in his seat, time is of the essence, so he begins the next question the moment the cream stops squirting.

Marc: "Name the three branches of the US Government."

Scott: "Legislative, Judicial. And, uh, Executive."

Ding! One right. 72 seconds left.


Marc: "The southernmost point in the contiguous 48 states is in this state."

Scott: "Um, Texas."

Prrfffff! Scott screams even louder as a second jet of cream unloads inside his pants. His pants begin to discolor as the cream starts soaking through them. The wetness inside his underwear is making Scott really uncomfortable.

61 seconds left.


Marc: "Who won the NFL Super Bowl last year?"

Scott: "The Kansas City Chiefs!"

Ding! You can hear the cheer coming from the Pie Coaster as Alice just got that much closer to staying clean.

55 seconds left.


Marc: "How many stars are in the Big Dipper?"

Scott: "Oh god, oh god. Uh, seven?"

Prrfffff! Scott gets another explosion in his pants. With nowhere else to go, cream begins spilling out of the ankles, as well as down the sides of his hips. He feels cream seeping underneath him. Not just sticky, it's also cold, adding yet another distraction for him to deal with.

48 seconds left, and Scott still needs five correct answers.

Marc: "How many actors have played the character of James Bond?"

Scott: "Uh, Connery. Brosnan. Pierce. Moore. Dalton. Lazenby--"

Marc: "Need an answer!"

Scott: "Eight?"

Prrfffff! Scott yelps again, his nerves leading him to accidentally count Pierce Brosnan twice. His underwear is completely soaked, and his pants are almost totally discolored as well, with the cold, wet cream having reached virtually every dry spot below his waist. Even if these clothes are salvageable, they're going to smell for a long, long time.

Only 33 seconds are left. Alice is absolutely despondent atop the Pie Coaster. The audience is starting to stir.


Marc: "What year did the first iPhone come out?"

Scott clenches his body and closes his eyes before guessing randomly. "2007?"

Ding! Only four more correct answers and both he and Alice can go home. Maybe, if he's lucky, she'll even agree to get a drink with him, after the terror they've narrowly averted. Well, terror that she narrowly averted. It's too late for Scott, his pants leaking cream and all.

27 seconds left.


Marc: "What artist had the highest grossing concert tour in 2019?"

Scott: "Oh, fuck. Uh, um. The Rolling Stones?"

Prrfffff! This time Scott lets out a borderline inappropriate moan, as more cream floods his underwear. It feels like his groin has been submerged in a milkshake, with his manhood and his balls all smothered in thick, heavy pie cream. Time is running out, and he has to get every question right in order to save the pretty girl from paying for his mistakes.

19 seconds left.


Marc: "What US state is Bruce Springsteen from?"

Scott is exuberant. He shouts in a voice that's half triumphant and half relieved, "New Jersey!"

Ding! It only took four seconds. 15 seconds left, 3 correct answers to get. Come on Marc, talk faster!


Marc: "The 2024 Olympics will be held in this European country."

Scott: "England?"

You could almost hear Alice in the Pie Coaster, telling herself, "this dumb fuck." Her country just hosted the Olympics in 2012. She throws her hands up in disbelief, knowing he can't save her now. She takes a much-needed vacation, and even manages to get on TV, only for some stupid American to let her get thrown through a comically large pie.

Prrfffff! Another orgasmic moan from Scott. Cream actually shoots back up through the waistband of his ruined skinny pants, his underwear physically unable to hold any more cream in them. Pie cream is now pouring out the legs of his pants, and both the front and back of his underwear are sopping wet.

7 seconds left.


Marc sees the clock and knows that Scott can no longer win the game. Might as well fuck with him, he thinks to himself.

Marc: "Scott, who let the dogs out?"

Scott: "Wait, what??"

Prrrrrrrrrrrrfffff! Scott shouts in agony, "Oh my godddduhhh!" as his pants get one final, extra long blast. He jerks his body around, throws his head back, curls his toes, all to try to get into a less uncomfortable position, but with his wrists restrained, there's nowhere for him to go. He just has to take it. And he's not the only one.

A foghorn sounds. Time is up.


Almost immediately, Alice feels the seat beneath her begin to move. She yells "You bitch!" in Scott's general direction, but she is drowned out by cheers; as they reach a fever pitch, Marc capitalizes on it, shouting into his mic, "Say goodbye to Alice!"

She descends rapidly down a steep hill, then levels off to break through the first barrier.

The crowd shouts. "What would!"

A piercing scream echoes through the studio as Alice gets nailed with two blasts of whipped cream, one from each side of the track. The cream cannons have pummeled their first victim, splattering Alice's face and chest with runny white cream. She shuts her eyes in shock, but continues hurtling toward her final destination.

The chair goes up a bunny hill, and back down a gentle slope to break through the second barrier.

The crowd again. "You do!"

The barrier breaks. Alice opens her eyes, only to see the enormous pie coming into view, ready to receive her.

This is it. The first day of the American vacation she spent years saving up for. The hair that took an hour to style just so. The outfit: so American, granting her so much confidence. This is it.

Alice braces for impact. Her hands glued to the arm rests, her eyes shut tight. Every muscle in her body tense in the split second before

Plouffff! An obnoxious sound effect plays at the exact moment Alice's body plows straight through the pie, demolishing every square inch of her and overwhelming her senses:

Her legs first, knees and thighs smeared with the first wave of cream; her favorite black leggings receive a thick coating of pie, a coldness she can feel through the thin fabric.

Her hands and bare arms smothered, made heavy by more cream than she'd eaten in her whole life.

Her chest and torso, her perfect breasts protruding out from her body, slammed so roughly into the pie that Alice feels them practically shoved back into her chest. The baby blue tank top completely ruined by the white pie cream, so heavy it might fall down and expose her breasts if not for its straps, which now have to bear so much more weight.

Her brown hair, worked painstakingly by a curling iron to get the spirals that gave her so much joy, destroyed in an instant and now flat and matted against her shoulders.

And finally, her face, sent headlong through the pie, erasing all the makeup she'd applied this morning under a shroud of sticky white. Pie up her nose and stuffing her mouth, which she just couldn't close in time.


The audience is absolutely hysterical. From their vantage point, they see a giant blob of cream, an entire person erased in an instant but for two legs in yoga pants, free of mess, seemingly unaware of the devastation just inches above.

She emerges on the other side spitting cream. The chair climbs a steep hill to stop its forward momentum, then slides backwards through the pie. Her momentum slowing, Alice reaches the top of the bunny hill beneath the now-broken second barrier, and slides forward again.

With nothing to stop her, she pushes slowly through the pie a second time, her body receiving a second smattering of cream in the process. Up the steep hill, backwards through the pie, then through the pie a third time she goes, before finally coming to a stop, her face just inches from the now-empty pie that unloaded its contents all over her.

Marc hurriedly rushes over to her and puts his microphone up to her. "So Alice, did you ever think that you'd be sent through a huge pie on your American vacation?"

Alice can barely answer, totally degraded as she is by this experience. "No, not in the least." The audience laughs. Scott, still sitting in the chair in his soaked clothes, feels fortunate to have the attention off of him for a second.

"Well, how about this. would you like to get revenge on your partner over there?"

"Abso-freaking-lutely!" she yells.

Marc plays to the audience, knowing they'll eat this next part up. "Alright, well Melissa, let's free Scott from that chair, he's going to the Pie Machine!"

As he predicted, the audience is fully supportive of this decision, cheering as loudly as they have all show. They were beside themselves when they saw what it did to Jamie earlier in the show, and can hardly believe they'll get to see someone else get that treatment.

Scott, on the other hand, hangs his head in shame. He remembered what Marc had said: "You guys don't stand a chance." Now he knew what he'd meant.

He'd already been through so much. He failed the challenge, had his pants soaked with cream seven times, forced his pretty new crush to receive a messy punishment she didn't deserve, only to realize this was nowhere near over.

Melissa removes the restraints from the chair and the pipe from his pants, and gently leads him over to the seat in the Pie Machine. Now that he's stood up, we can see that his pants are completely destroyed, the ankles leaking a trail of cream on his walk to the machine. Melissa takes his eyeglasses. Scott sits dejectedly, and surveys the scene around him:

The Pie Pod arms have been refilled, five pies on five cocked arms aimed directly at him; above his head, the crown-shaped bucket with a trap door; and in front of, behind, and to the sides of the crown, four nozzles angled above him and aimed right at his body. This is the movie Saw, but with pie mess.

In the meantime, Alice has been freed from the Pie Coaster, and has made her way over to the Pie Machine. She wants to be this close to see her partner get the rough treatment he deserves.

But Marc senses it's not enough, so he guides her over to a ripcord hanging just off this massive apparatus. "Now Alice, after the Pie Machine does its work, I want you to yank on this cord, and let Scott know just how much you appreciated being sent down the Pie Coaster. Okay?"

The audience whoops loudly once more. "Yes!" Alice yells through the cheers.

In a way that only he can, Mark twists the knife one final time. "Scott, if you lose on the Wheel O' Stuff, there's a price to pay. Alice faced the consequences, and now it's your turn. Audience, on the count of three, we're gonna let Scott have it. One! Two! Three!"

As with Jamie earlier, Scott shuts his eyes and just takes it. The firing squad begins, with pies launching from Scott's left to his right. The first pie lands on his chest, sending cream down the open hole of his V-neck. Scott lets out an whimper, surprise at how cold the cream feels going down his shirt.

But then the pies find their mark, one pie after another. The second pie slams into the left side of his head, emptying its contents all over Scott's face before falling off. He moans, taken aback by how hard he just got hit.

The third is a direct hit, banging hard into his face, leaving a collar of cream on his neck and sending his immaculately done hair flying with gobs of pie.

Pie #4 does the same, bashing him square in the face, but this time sticking to him, so that he can't see the fifth pie, which rams the right side of his head, filling his ear with cream and sending the fourth pie flying off into oblivion. Pie #5 slowly oozes down his arm, a slow caress of cream, a trail of white in its wake.

The audience knows so much more is yet to come, and they're on their feet screaming in anticipation.

Jamie barely has time to register the shock he's feeling before the chair begins to spin, once again taking its victim for a ride. The pipes begin blasting pie cream with the same force as they did into his pants and underwear, his t-shirt now joining his pants in utter ruin. Around and around Scott goes, the cream blasters attempting to match the Pie Coaster in their brutality. Cream piles on top of cream, on his clothes and inside them. By his third rotation, Scott feels 10 pounds heavier. The chair slows to a stop after the fourth turn, leaving all this mess to ooze down his face, his arms, and his body, sparing no square inch from the devastation that only the Pie Machine can bring.

Just then, Alice pulls the rip cord, unleashing 10 gallons of pink goo right down on Scott's head. His hair, sent this way and that by the pies and the cream nozzles, is the first to receive the Crowning Glory, which quicky soaks Scott from the chest up. The slime knocks some of the pie cream off his head and begins pooling in his lap, inundating his waterlogged pants even further. It even oozes into the hole in his t-shirt, a hole that seems bigger than ever, weighed down as it is with all this mess. Scott is still wearing clothes, but they're in tatters, barely holding onto his body. He fears that if he stands up, his pants may fall down, leaving him with one final disgrace: being nude in front of a live studio audience. Either way, he is completely destroyed, buried under a multicolored mess.

The slime slows to a trickle, then to just drops dribbling onto his head. The audience has been on its feet for a solid 20 seconds now, as Marc gestures to the pink and white blob that used to be a human being.

In exchange for a few minutes on TV, these contestants paid a price with their bodies:

Alice by being driven through a giant cream pie, leaving practically her entire body shrouded in white. Her favorite leggings destroyed, her tank top unsalvageable.

Scott with the humiliation of having a pipe shoved inside his underwear, and receiving a creamy kick to the balls every time he answered a question wrong. Then, as if that wasn't enough, Alice sentencing him to the Pie Machine, where he got five pies launched at his face, a shower of cream raining down on him, and to top it all off, pink slime dropped from the heavens. All he could do was stare into space, unaware of the cheers reaching a crescendo around him, before--

Ploufffff! Scott's body convulses in his seat as Alice clobbers him with one final pie out of nowhere. This one wasn't like all the others. It had heft: a crust and a payload of butterscotch pudding, in addition to a mountain of whipped cream. Alice rubs it violently around his face two, three, four times before sending it straight over his head, leaving behind a layer of gold and white muck, with bits of pie crust, all surrounding a mouth wide open in shock.

Apparently, while he was sitting there stunned, Marc asked Alice, "So did you feel like you got your revenge?"

And she responded, "Not at all!"

Marc had Melissa give her one last pie, which the audience ate up. "Then finish him off," Marc ordered menacingly.

Only too willing to oblige, she approached Scott, cocked her arm, and let him have it. Alice rejoined Marc just off the Pie Machine, wiping her hands up and down as if to say, "My work here is done."

Comically, Melissa then goes in and puts Scott's glasses back on his face.

"Well, that escalated quickly!" Marc said. "Let's have a nice round of applause for Scott and Alice, folks!"

After seeing two strangers get massacred for their entertainment, the audience showered them with something dry this time: praise and appreciation for all they had endured. Not like they had any say in the matter.

Marc concludes the show. "Scott and Alice didn't win our grand prize, but as you can see, they are going home with a nice consolation prize, courtesy of all of us here at What Would You Do. Join us next time, when we up the grand prize to $600, plus the TVs, and play a bunch of new games all right here! We'll see you soon, bye-bye!"

The shot cuts to a camera panning the audience, and then slow-motion replays. First, of Alice plowing headlong through the giant pie, all of us witnessing the final moments of her dignity, slowed down frame by frame until the moment her clean clothes and clenched eyes disappeared into creamy oblivion.

Then, of Scott. First, a slow-mo replay catching his reaction as cream blasted into his pants after one of his wrong answers; next, him spinning around and around in the Pie Wash, his body getting buried with every rotation. And finally, of Alice delivering the finisher, sending more pie mess all over him and splattering the wall behind him.

Credits roll over a live shot of Scott and Alice, stunned, futilely trying to wipe mess off their bodies. Fade to black.


Part III: Postscript
The applause finally dying down, Marc approached Scott and Alice, their bodies and their dignities abused all for seven minutes of humiliating television. "Thanks for playing, you guys. You did really great. Melissa is going to bring out some forms for you to sign, a release for us to use this footage, and a non-disclosure so you can't tell anyone that the Wheel O' Stuff prizes are unwinnable. Thanks for coming."

He starts walking away, but Scott gets his attention. He can't even process the fact that he's not allowed to tell anyone of this scam. He has more immediate concerns. "Wait, what about us though? Do you have a shower? Extra clothes?"

Marc guffaws. "Nothing like that. Like I said, no budget. Maybe we can find some paper towels for you guys."

Scott and Alice look at each other, incredulous.

Alice finally jumps in. "You mean we have to go home like this?"

Scott piles on. "What am I supposed to do?! All my clothes are literally soaked through!"

Alice: "Me too, you didn't tell us any of this before we played!"

Marc walks away without another word, leaving a stage manager to approach them. "Sorry about that, guys. You're just going to have to find a way. Maybe we can scrape together an Uber fare for you. Probably will have to share it, though."

Alice is seething about the stunning lack of care from the show's staff. She and Scott were used for the sake of entertainment, then basically told to go get fucked. She also sees now that Marc took advantage of her, egging her on to seek revenge and make it so much worse for Scott. In his state, he's probably in no position to stand up for himself, so she does. "This is fucking unbelievable. Look at what you did to him!"

The stage manager replies, "Yeah, I know. Tough business. Entertainment, right? Let me get those paper towels for you."

Left alone, Alice realizes that Scott really tried his best. Maybe it was unfair of her to judge him for answering a few trivia questions wrong. She sees that this wasn't the way either of them expected this day to go, and recognizes that they now have a common enemy, and it isn't each other.

Scott, sensing the awkwardness of them standing alone in silence, attempted to mend fences. "Look, Alice, I'm so sorry. I fucked up your vacation. You could've done a better job than me in that chair. It didn't have to be this way."

"No, stop. It's not your fault. They rigged the game against us. Can I ask how it's feeling down there?" She gestures toward his groin area politely, but is curious about the feeling.

"Not great. It was like a kick in the nuts every time I got a question wrong. What was it like going through that ridiculous pie? It looked kind of fun."

"The cream blasters nearly gave me a heart attack! Seeing the pie coming at me so fast was a little scary but it wasn't so bad. Maybe like getting hit with a pillow in a pillow fight except messy? Clothes are going to have to be binned, but I guess that's the same for you."

"Yeah, they've seen better days." Scott tries to halfheartedly flirt with her. "I'll tell you what, that Crowning Glory was just what I hoped for when I left the house this morning. And I definitely walked in here hoping someone would punch me hard in the face like you did with that pie."

Alice picks up on his flirtation, and decides to return it. "Ahh, that was a bit harsh, wasn't it? I think we can agree though that it's maybe not as harsh as, like, getting all those questions wrong on purpose just to see me go through that pie?"

Scott plays fake indignant. "On purpose! Wow. Did you see them squirt the cream into the bucket? You wouldn't get questions wrong on purpose if you had to feel THAT."

Alice starts laughing, knowing they're both smiling, even despite. "Alright, alright. Well, I don't know where you live, but if we only get one Uber fare, my hotel has a good shower. And only water comes out the nozzle, as far as I know. We can send out the laundry to get cleaned. It has warm robes!"

Scott smiles in a way he hadn't since he got picked to play this godforsaken game. "I think I could go for that!"

Alice: "Plus, I think I owe you some room service after all that stuff I did to you at the end anyhow. Maybe a good ol' American cheeseburger? We can bond over something we apparently can't tell anyone else about? Maybe you can regale me over what it felt like sitting in that terrifying Pie Machine."

Scott: "In excruciating detail. Room service would be great. But please, can we agree to skip dessert?"

Alice: "I love a good cheesecake, but in this case, I think I've had enough dessert for a while too."

Scott offers a hug, and Alice obliges in a slippery, messy, unintentionally sensual reconciliation. "Ohhhh", they both say innocently, closing their eyes and letting the sensations take over. They revel in how sticky their partner is, especially in their sensitive regions: Scott of Alice's breasts, her hard nipples a clear indication of her boldness to go braless today; and Alice of Scott's crotch, which she can feel growing the moment it meets her groin. She returns his interest by sneaking a feel of his ass. It's sopping wet, but firm and so grabbable. They hold each other for an extra couple of beats, sensing that the promise of tonight might just be enough to make up for the humiliation of today.