What Would You Do? continues its 30th anniversary run on a new network, Comedy Central. Just two episodes in, longtime fans have been treated to an ungodly amount of mess. The first guy, Jamie, failed a yoga challenge and got hit with eight pies and liquid cream in the new Pie Pod/Pie Wash contraption, "The Pie Machine".

Then, the Wheel O' Stuff, a wheel contestants spun to do crazy stunts to win prizes, resulted in catastrophe for Scott and Alice: he also experienced The Pie Machine, and she took a ride on the new and improved Pie Coaster.

Finally, an entire bridal party was sentenced to a brand-new contraption, the Creampie, where four penis-shaped cream cannons unloaded all over them, drenching them in their matching custom outfits.

Misfortune has also found the network though, as ratings have been disappointing in the show's Friday late night timeslot. In an attempt to raise viewership among its young adult target, the writers recommended incorporating more extreme elements in Episode 3, meaning an audience that started to get used to the punishing nature of the penalties would once again be ambushed by where Marc Summers planned to go next.


The Setup

"Hi, I'm Marc Summers, and this is What Would You Do! Let's hear it, folks!"

Marc is showered by a round of applause from his eager audience.

"This is the show where we pick contestants right out of our audience and put them in impossible situations, all to find out what they would do to win with great prizes!"

"We want to kick things off with a bang today. So, for our first game, I need two volunteers to spin the Wheel O' Stuff. Are there any couples that want to win dinner on us and a cash prize?"

Hands shoot up from the first row to the far bleachers. The video feed cuts to a wide shot of the audience, capturing the enthusiasm of the moment. Young adults fill the audience, many of whom probably see this as their chance to get on TV and score another point in their never-ending battle against their friends in the game of who could do the coolest shit post-quarantine.

Marc ascends the steps behind the stage, scanning the crowd for a couple of marks. He finally spots them in the left-center section: a guy and a girl, late 20s, their left hands raised high, their right hands, strangely, cradling bike helmets.

"Hi there, what's your name?"

"I'm Tyler, and this is my girlfriend, Sarah."

"Great, Tyler and Sarah! So I have to ask, what's with the bike helmets?"

Tyler chuckled. "Haha, yeah, so we were just kind of cruising by on a bike ride today, and there was a sign outside saying there was a TV show taping, so here we are!"

Secretly, Marc was salivating. No chance these two knew what they were getting into.

"Great! Well, why don't you leave the helmets behind and join me onstage, let's play the Wheel O' Stuff!"

The audience applauds as both Tyler and Sarah jump to their feet, drop their helmets, and trot the short distance to the stage area, where Robin has already maneuvered the Wheel O' Stuff into place.

Both of them are clearly the sporty type, which makes sense, since they came here on bikes.

Tyler is a slender 5-foot-8 with dark brown hair slightly disheveled, wearing a sleeveless V-neck tank top and dark gray skinny jeans. Despite his small frame, he's in great shape, with toned arms, a broad chest, and a well-built lower half: sculpted calves, thick thighs, and an even thicker butt. You could even make out the outline of his crotch as it pushed up ever so slightly against his pants. The women in the audience craned their necks to get a look at what he was packing.

Sarah is equally stunning. A petite 5-foot-4 blonde, she sported a thin gray long-sleeved zip-up that covered her top half. Well-tanned from the hot Florida summer, her muscular legs showed off the results of her heavy leg days. Tiny cerulean blue bike shorts barely covered 1/3 the length of her thighs, leaving precious little to the imagination. Like the women with Tyler, the guys in the crowd craned their necks to ogle Sarah's tight little butt.

Marc, wondering just how far he could goad these two, starts into his push-and-prod schtick. "So, have you guys ever seen our show?"

Both contestants nod no, with Sarah saying something off mic. Marc belatedly points it toward her, and picks up Sarah saying, "no idea what this is about!"

"Here's what we're gonna do," Marc responds. "We've got our wheel here. Sarah, I want you to spin it. We'll play whatever game it lands on, and if you win, we'll give you $150 cash, AND we'll treat you to dinner on us at Cattano's, one of the best Italian restaurants in town!"

Marc stops, as Tyler started into something else off mic. "What was that?"

Tyler repeated, "I was just saying we've always wanted to go there! We keep trying but we can never get a table!"

Marc has reeled them in. "You won't have to worry about that if you win! Okay Sarah, spin the wheel for me?"

Sarah grabs hold of a peg and gives the wheel a healthy swipe down. The wheel whirs past games that viewers who saw the last episode would recognize, like Saucy Slam Dunk and Peanut Butter Passion. As first-timers, Tyler and Sarah are mystified about these games, even though pretty much anyone could recognize the messy potential of them all. Finally, the tick-tick-ticking of the pegs slows to a stop, on a game called "Twisted Darts."

Marc's eyes light up. The network is going to love this. "Twisted Darts! Ohh, this is a fun one!"

Robin walks back into the frame, placing a bar stool just off to the side of where Sarah and Tyler are standing. She retreats, then returns wheeling a dartboard to stage right. Mounted on a wooden frame on wheels, it resembles a typical dartboard, though the board itself is mounted inside a larger wooden square, and the point values are different.
The small bullseye has a "50" on it.
Extending outward from the bullseye are slices of various widths and point values.
The largest slices have "10" on them, the medium-sized are labeled "20", and the smallest slices "30".
Also scattered across the board are other medium-sized sections painted red with "PENALTY" on them.
Finally, at the edges of the wooden frame, beyond the circular dartboard, are small circles at each of the four corners. These are slightly larger than the bullseye and have "40" on them.

Marc takes over, "Now, which of you is better at playing darts?"

The couple give each other knowing glances. They hold each other's gaze, smile slightly, then look back at Marc. Sarah points at Tyler, and Tyler sheepishly raises his left hand.

"Alright then! Sarah, I want you to have a seat on this stool here. You get to watch from the best seat in the house."

Sarah moves over to the high-top barstool and sits, leaving Marc to explain the game to her boyfriend.

"Tyler, we're going to give you five darts. You'll see point values all over the dartboard, from 10 all the way to 50. All you need to do is reach 100 points total, okay? Unlike regular darts, you can go over, so 100, 110, 120, whatever. If you get at least 100, and you win the cash and a lovely dinner on us. Make sense?"

"Sure does!" Tyler shouts, overconfidently.

"Perfect. Now, you'll notice some of the targets have the word 'penalty' on them." Marc lowers his voice to ratchet up the tension. "So here's the thing. If you land on penalty, or if you miss the board altogether, do you know what's going to happen, Tyler?"

"I sure don't," he says nervously.

"Robin, show Tyler what he's going to get."

Robin wheels a bar cart full of large cream pies onto the stage. She's accompanied by a very tall, imposing man wearing a black ski mask, black tank top, black jeans, and black leather boots. Standing 6-foot-5, he is larger than anyone on stage and is clearly here to intimidate. The audience groans, knowing what's in store for poor Tyler if he screws up. The camera catches Sarah staring at this scene, covering her mouth with her hands, bug-eyed and in shock.

Marc continues, "That's right, Tyler. Anytime you miss the board, or land on a penalty, Bruce here is going to take a pie and let you have it, okay?" Marc emphasized the "let you have it" part slowly, to really drive the point home. The audience, for their part, applaud heartily at the possibility of this turning chaotic very quickly.

"And Tyler, if you DON'T score 100 points by the end of the game, you know what else is going to happen?"

Tyler looks back at Marc and nods his head no, unable to even give voice to his words.

"In that case, instead of dinner, the only thing you'll win is a trip down our world-famous Pie Slide!" The audience erupts in applause again.

Marc steps over to the helpless Sarah in the stool. "Sarah, aren't you glad you didn't volunteer to throw the darts?"

"Oh, I am SO glad!"

"Then without further ado, let's get you in position, Tyler, and let's play Twisted Darts!"


The Game

Tyler gets into position as a drumroll plays over the PA. He holds the first dart gently, hinging his forearm at the elbow and aiming once, twice, three times to practice. He takes a deep breath and lets it fly.

A cymbal smash sound. It hits! The crowd cheers.

"20 points!" Marc exclaims. "That's a great start!"

Tyler breathes a sigh of relief. He gets back into position. He holds his breath. The drumroll sound plays again. As before, he winds up a couple of times before letting his second dart go. It's sailing high

The cymbal smash. Another hit! The cheers are even louder now, the audience on Tyler's side.

"Another 10!" Marc exclaims. "That's 30! You're doing great, Tyler, how are you feeling so far?"

"Nervous," Tyler says breathlessly. "But I haven't been pied yet, so that's good!"

"And let's hope it stays that way!" Marc says. "Dart #3!"

Once again, Tyler gets set. This all is going a bit too fast for me, he thinks. He wishes Marc would throw to commercial, give him 10 seconds, anything to get the attention off him momentarily to let him regroup. But the drumroll starts up again, the audience falls silent, and one more time, he bends at the elbow, aims, and fires.

Cymbal smash. Penalty!

Tyler's mouth drops in disbelief. He turns toward Marc, and suddenly feels a hand come down hard on his right shoulder, leading him to refocus his gaze just in time to--

BLAM! Tyler's vision instantly goes dark as Bruce clobbers him with a cream pie. A "PLOONK" sound effect plays as the audience recoils with OHHHs from the brutal hit. Sarah literally screams. Tyler arches his back awkwardly, and his hands shoot up to try to block the pie, but it's too late. Bruce grinds it up and down before sending it over his head.

Once again, these pies are not just whipped cream on a plate. This one is a tin with a crust and a generous helping of banana cream filling, topped with a mound of thick whipped cream. Half of it is all over Tyler's head, neck, and shoulders, a yellow tint all over the top of his white shirt, while the other half is scattered all across the stage. It narrowly missed the seated Sarah, whose arms are curled up against her body in a defensive stance.

With everyone laughing at him, Tyler is in shock. This was not the fun TV shoot he thought it would be.

"And that's what a penalty looks like," Marc says mockingly. "Tyler, I would advise you not to do that again!"

Tyler has to refocus now. He has just two darts left, and only 30 points. Now with pie sliding down his face, he has to contend with a gooey distraction, which will only get worse if he screws up again. He takes a breath, aims, and lets go.

The cymbal smash. The dart narrowly misses a corner 40-pointer!

The audience groans again, and Tyler throws up his arms in disbelief. Again, he feels a large, familiar hand come down on his shoulder. The hand yanks his right side toward the cameras as he braces himself for --

PLOONK! Bruce plows another pie into Tyler's face even harder, before sending it up over his head. Tyler stumbles backward, revealing his shocked 'O' face, and bends over to let the pie mess fall to the floor. Bruce spots an opportunity to shock Tyler again. He eyes Tyler's meaty, muscular dump truck of an ass, quickly grabs another pie, and punishes him with a massive pie spanking. He leaps forward and moans loudly in agony. Vanilla pudding and pie cream stick to his jeans as side splatter flies everywhere. Tyler feels the pie grinding into his butt, around and around, until finally Bruce lets go, the pie tin falling to the stage floor with a satisfying clatter. Meanwhile, Sarah is turned away, one hand over her mouth, only able to look out of the corner of her eyes toward the humiliation her boyfriend is experiencing.

"Ooh, that cannot feel good," Marc says. "Well, you've got one dart left, so let's see what you do here!"

Tyler's body language screams dejected. As the drumroll starts up again, he grabs the fifth dart and, knowing he can't win mathematically, doesn't even bother aiming. He just lets it fly.

The cymbal smash. It's a hit! The crowd cheers modestly.

"20 points!" Marc yells. "And that makes 50!"

Tyler has a look of "So what?" After all that indignity, he knows he's still going to the Pie Slide. Marc gets it. He only told Tyler half the rules. He gently puts his hand on Tyler's shoulder.

"So, you didn't get to 100. But what I didn't tell you is that we can give you up to four more darts! The game's not over!"

"What's the catch?" Tyler asks dejectedly.

"The catch is, you have to be willing to give something up. And that's why we call it 'Twisted Darts.' What you'll be giving up is your clothes." An unfettered WHOA emanates from the crowd. They knew this reboot would be edgy, but not raunchy! But the network needed more from the show, and to the writers, "more" meant "more skin". It was a brilliant stroke of genius: they wouldn't force nudity on anyone. If Tyler was going to strip, it would be purely his choice.

"Alright, settle down, settle down" Looking back at Tyler, Marc continued explaining. "You can buy up to three more darts by removing items of clothing. We'll give you one dart for your shirt, one more for your pants, and of course, one last one for your underwear."

Again, the crowd shouted WHOAs, but this time, it was accompanied by rapturous applause. Seeing one of their own get pied was one thing, but seeing him strip naked? For several of the women in the crowd, it was more than they could take. Several oh my gods were heard from the audience and a long "Nooooo" from Sarah.

Marc continued. "Now, I told you that you could buy up to four darts. But you're only getting three for taking off your clothes. And that's because we have one more item of value up here. And that's "

Marc points at Sarah. A low moan comes from the crowd as they start to figure out that suddenly, Sarah isn't safe either.

In his mocking voice, Marc said, "So, at any point, you can tell us you want an extra dart, and we'll be happy to give it to you. But, you'll have to trade your girlfriend for it. And if you do, we'll send lovely Sarah here to the Pie Machine."

The crowd erupts. Sarah buries her face in her hands. The camera zooms in on Tyler shaking his head.

Marc looks directly into the camera. "It looks like Tyler's got some thinking to do, so we'll take a short break, and we'll be right back. Don't go anywhere!"

The stage manager raises his arms to cue the audience to applaud. The video feed cuts to a slow motion shot of Tyler getting pied in the face. Cream flies everywhere, Tyler's arms shoot up, all beneath a bouncing What Would You Do? logo, as the picture fades to black.

As he's been doing throughout the show's run, Marc approaches Tyler during the break to give him an anti-pep talk. "It's too bad you're in a tough spot, but think about Sarah there. I'm sure she'll be really disappointed in you if you didn't do everything you could to win her that dream dinner. Just saying I know I would be."


Round 2

The stage manager cues for more applause, and counts Marc back in. We're back.

"We're back here on What Would You Do?, and our contestant Tyler is playing Twisted Darts, which has just become Strip Darts," says Marc. "Tyler, you have 50 points. You're 50 away from winning $150 cash and the dinner of a lifetime. You can do one of three things. You can buy a dart by removing an item of clothing, or by sending your girlfriend to the Pie Machine. Or, you can end the game here, go to the Pie Slide, and go home with nothing. What's it going to be?"

The audience shouts their opinions. This first decision is pretty uncontroversial, though.

Wordlessly, Tyler begins taking his shirt off. The audience roars. With it being so tight, and with pie remnants caked to it, Tyler removes it very clumsily, but when he finally does, he exposes his broad torso, muscular arms and flat stomach. Marc walks over to him, smiling and nodding. He hands Tyler the dart he just bought.

As the drumroll kicks up again, Tyler takes it and immediately remembers what Marc said to him during the break. He's more focused than ever. He aims and fires. It appears headed toward the bullseye!

Cymbal crash! But gravity took it, and the dart lands just below the bullseye. 20 points.

The crowd sighs in disappointment, and so does Tyler. "Oh no!" Marc shouts. "You almost won it right there! 70 points isn't enough, but you can still buy up to three more darts. So what are you gonna do now?"

The audience wants him to keep going, so they begin chanting, "ONE MORE! ONE MORE! ONE MORE!" The cacophony grows louder as Tyler labors over his decision. Sarah stares at him, her hands raised to her mouth as if in prayer, her eyes wide, hoping he doesn't sacrifice her. Not now, not ever.

Again, Tyler doesn't say what he's going to do, he just does it. Under loud applause, he takes off his shoes and socks, then slowly removes his pants. Aside from the splatter all over his ass, the jeans have escaped mostly unscathed. But as with his shirt, Tyler can't help but remove them clumsily.

Tyler is down to just a pair of navy-blue low-rise boxer briefs, a pelvic V peeking out from underneath. If the jeans showed the crowd what he was packing, now that's even more the case. Sarah, embarrassed for him, just looks away.

Marc walks over to him, again smiling, and hands Tyler another dart.

The drumroll plays, and Tyler fully feels the pressure of the moment. If he doesn't win now, he's facing nudity or doing the unthinkable to his girlfriend. Or, he thinks, I could quit. But the disappointment Sarah would feel. The thoughts cloud his head so much that he can barely focus on the dartboard. The next thing he knows, the dart is no longer in his hand.

Cymbal crash. Tyler hangs his head. He didn't focus on the target, and he's failed again.

"10 points!" Marc notes. "That's 80, you're so close!"

Tyler doesn't match Marc's enthusiasm, knowing that if he's to keep going, his next decision will gut him.

"But that's not enough! So, what will you give up? Your underwear? Your girlfriend? Or your dream dinner? What's it gonna be, Tyler?"

The audience is wild. They want him to win, but more than that, they want to see more flesh. They start chanting, "TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF!" For the producers in the back, this is exactly the shot in the arm they were hoping for. They cut back to the wide shot of the audience, chanting, screaming, and pounding their feet.

But when the camera cuts back to Tyler, we see him mouthing "I'm sorry" in Sarah's direction. Marc couldn't believe it. Tyler was selling out his girlfriend's dignity before his own! He rushes over to confirm. "What was that, Tyler?"

"I want to send Sarah to the Pie Machine."

The crowd shouts WHOAs in disbelief. This was not what they were expecting!

Marc quickly takes control. "What a crazy turn of events, folks!"

"Now Sarah, before we let you go" Marc eases over to the cart and picks up a pie. "I always say, a couple that gets pied together, stays together." Offering the pie to Bruce, he says, "So Bruce, why don't you take this and let her have it."

Bruce takes the pie and zeroes in on his target. On the stool, Sarah leans away uncomfortably. She yelps, "No, plea--"

PLOONK! To the delight of the audience, Bruce slams the pie hard into Sarah's face. A muffled scream comes from underneath the pie. Her blonde hair whips back, and her hands fly up in a too-late attempt to block it. Sarah's body convulses, overwhelmed by the sensation. Bruce puts a hand on her upper back to keep her from falling off the stool, then rubs the pie up into her hair, revealing the damage: Sarah's blonde hair and pretty face have been replaced with a thick mask of cream, crust, and chocolate pudding. Gobs of pie filling plop onto her bare, tanned legs, leaving a white sticky residue in their wake.

The next thing we know, Robin is escorting Sarah over to the Pie Machine. She takes one glance at the torture device and intuits that this could get very bad, so, hoping to salvage at least part of her outfit, she makes an interesting choice. She unzips her light jacket, leaves it on the stool, and follows Robin across the stage. Now it's the guys' turn to ogle. Now, Sarah is wearing just a canary yellow sports bra, her toned torso exposed above the tiny blue bike shorts. It's a cute, vibrant outfit, about to become a lot more vibrant underneath a deluge of mess. Sarah, nervous as all get-out, takes a seat in the Pie Pod chair, places her arms on the armrests, and anxiously surveys her surroundings. It's worse than she anticipated: five pies loaded into mechanical arms, ready to launch at her; four nozzles above, all pointed directly at her; and a large gold crown suspended directly above her head, a closed trap door all that's keeping her clean.

Marc, seeing Sarah stunned by her vicious surprise pieing, asks her, "Anything you'd like to say to your boyfriend before you take your punishment?"

Looking scared to death, all Sarah can do is shake her head no.

"Well audience, how many pies should we give her? One, two, three, four, or five?"

FIVE!! Looking like she wants to crawl into a hole and hide, Sarah can only bury her face in her hands.

"Hands down, Sarah," Marc commands. "No fair blocking those pies. Tyler made a deal with the devil, and now it's his girlfriend who has to pay the price. On the count of three, let's give Sarah a little What Would You Do present."

ONE! TWO! THREE!

Sarah shuts her eyes as the massacre begins. The Pie Machine launches the five pies from left to right. The first pie smacks the top of her head and flies off into the ether, caking more of Sarah's dirty blonde hair.

Pie #2 is a direct hit, slamming into her left cheek. Sarah squeals audibly, surprised by the force of the hit. Whipped cream splatters everywhere, blasting her face and leaving a necklace of cream around her collarbone.

Pie #3 is another direct hit, bashing her between the eyes and sticking to her face. Sarah yelps from underneath the pie plate. It hits her so hard that the back of the plate cracks open after hitting Sarah's nose.

Now totally blinded, Sarah doesn't see pie #4 smash into her right breast. Her sports bra, and the C-cups beneath it, disappear under a thick layer of cream. The sudden coldness on her chest sends a chill through Sarah's body.

Pie #5 blasts her right cheek and sticks there, sending Pie #3 flying off her face. Sarah is surprised by it and whimpers again, as more of her hair goes flying. The foam plate oozes down her shoulder, leaving a trail of cream behind.

Then the chair awakens, beginning the Pie Wash portion of Sarah's punishment. Suddenly, she's spinning, and the nozzles above unload on her. Except now, it's not the white of heavy cream but the gold of caramel syrup spraying her. Sarah starts squirming in her seat, the viscosity sending her senses into overdrive. Wayward caramel blasts Sarah's hair around, forcing the pie plates still stuck to her body onto the floor. It coats her tanned skin, shrouding her in liquid gold, and finds its way into her sports bra, down her back, and onto every inch of her face, arms, breasts, stomach, and her beautifully sculpted legs. Her ride finally ends after four revolutions. Weighed down by all of this pie mess and syrup, she looks up in exasperation, happy for her ordeal to be over, when she sees it.

The trap door.

PLOOOP! Just then, Robin yanks the rip cord, and Sarah takes 10 gallons of green slime right to the face. The Crowning Glory. She shuts her eyes and screams in agony, scrunching her shoulders and balling her fists. With the slime gushing down her face and body, she looks less like a human and more like an alien in a sports bra, a bra that's drooping and struggling to keep her covered amid the heavy caramel and thick slime falling into it. Her toned arms and muscular legs, already smeared with pie mess and syrup, take on a thick third layer, while her skintight bike shorts disappear beneath the slop. "Make it stop!" she pleads, before mercifully, the slime runs out and she can catch her breath.

What's happened to Tyler so far is peanuts compared to what his girlfriend just got. Blobs of white all over Sarah's body are all that's left of the violence of just 20 seconds ago, replaced by thick layers of sticky syrup and slime. Sarah's sports bra is permanently misshapen, stained forever with swirls of gold and green as it droops low over her stomach, sticky goo between her breasts. Her blue bike shorts are soaked through. Every square inch of exposed skin above the knees, stained white, yellow, green, or a combination of all three. Sarah and her clothes have been completely destroyed.

The audience applauds. As always, they have turned against the contestants and toward total carnage. With Sarah looking absolutely spent, Marc can't help but insult her too. "And that's the Pie Machine, ladies and gentlemen! So, Sarah, has Tyler ever creamed you that hard before?"

"Oh my godddd ughhh," she whines.

"Well, hopefully you enjoyed your treat!" Marc trots back over to Tyler, who's looking completely mortified after what just happened to the love of his life. Marc hands him a dart. The drumroll. Tyler steels himself, winds up, and tosses.

Cymbal splash. Tyler hears a gasp from the audie--

PLOONK. Bruce, who considered what he did to Sarah as "taking it easy on her," rocks Tyler's world with another cream pie. This one had blueberry filling, and the force of the hit sends blueberries flying all over the studio. Tyler stumbles backwards into the stool where Sarah once sat, toppling it over and sending her jacket to the ground. Bruce rubs the pie up into his hair and swipes it off his head, revealing him stunned and out-of-breath. Whipped cream, syrup and blueberry filling begin sliding down his bare chest.

"You missed!" Marc said. He beckons Tyler over to him, as if bout to share a heart-to-heart.

"We only have one dart left. But it'll cost you, big time. You already took off your shirt AND your pants, AND you sacrificed your girlfriend to the Pie Machine. Look at her over there! Look what she did for you! You would do anything for her, wouldn't you?"

Marc puts his microphone in Tyler's pie splattered face. "Uh huh."

"So what's it gonna be? One last try? Or the Pie Slide?"

The audience is the loudest it's ever been. If this doesn't convince the network to pick up the rest of the season, nothing will. Chants of "TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF!" reverberate throughout the studio. Tyler agonizes over this decision.

TAKE IT OFF!

Retain his dignity and go down the Pie Slide in his underwear? But then Sarah would've gotten messy for nothing.

TAKE IT OFF!

Give the audience what they want and get naked on national TV? But he may not win the game and would STILL have to go down the Pie Slide, only this time totally nude!

TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF!

"I need an answer," Marc urges.

Tyler looks increasingly uncomfortable, until he finally he shuts his eyes and slowly brings his hands to his hips. Slowly, he hooks his thumbs inside the waistband of his boxer briefs.

The audience is about to riot. The cheers are deafening.

The camera tracks Tyler slowly pulling down his underwear. They hook on his dick before he finally gets them over, his penis and balls bouncing as they break free of the fabric. Tyler, newly exposed, feels a rush of cool air around his private parts. He sees a camera zooming in on his freshly shaved crotch, and he feels the eyes of over 100 people on him and his big dick. The audience savors its view: of Tyler's ass facing them, and of his junk on the studio TVs above the stage. He ever overhears a female voice among the crowd, screeching, "Oh my god, it's huge!"

He drops his underwear to his ankles, steps out of them one foot at a time, and kicks them away, leaving him totally exposed. Still covered in slop, Sarah is in the Pie Machine with a pained look on her face. They've dated for three years, and it was like they were connected telepathically. Sure, he fucked her over by sending her to get messy, but in her mind, that was nothing compared to what he was now going through. She was as embarrassed for him as he was.

But this was exactly what the show's producers wanted. Nudity, all of the contestant's own volition.

Marc wordlessly hands Tyler his last dart. The drumroll begins. Tyler, his left hand cupping his balls for modesty, takes aim at the target. He only needs 20 points. Just do it and this will be over, he thinks to himself. He takes a deep breath.

Cymbal crash. "OHHH, HE MISSED!" Marc yells. "He missed! He couldn't do it, and now--"
PLOONK. The next sound we hear isn't the audience reacting, but Tyler moaning loudly, as Bruce slams a cream pie hard into Tyler's balls. The audience responds with pained moans of their own. Tyler bends at the waist and rocks up onto the balls of his feet, once again stumbling backward until Bruce puts his other hand on Tyler's lower back and nudges him forward, forcing his balls back into the pie and enabling him to rub it around more. He finally relents, re-exposing Tyler's dick to the world. Tyler's face, and now his balls, are the sites of a What Would You Do? massacre: his cock hangs limply and pathetically, smothered in thick butterscotch pudding, whipped cream, and bits of pie crust.

But his ordeal was only beginning. Marc resumes mocking him. "You're out of chances, Tyler! The game is over! We gave you as many darts as we had, and you sacrificed everything. All of your clothes, your girlfriend, and now it's your turn! So, come on over with me, we're going to the Pie Slide! We're going to the Pie Slide!"

The audience resumes its raucous cheers as Tyler follows Marc to far stage right and the stepladder leading up to the Pie Slide. Like the Pie Coaster in the last episode, the Pie Slide has been reconfigured to maximize humiliation. Instead of a victim pushing himself down a short playground slide into a giant cream pie at the bottom, a Get Your Own Back-style chair has been installed atop the 10-foot-tall slide, set to descend at the pull of a lever. Halfway down the slide, two pipes loaded with cream have been installed, one on each side of the track, ready to blast their payloads into their victim's face at the exact moment he passes them. And finally, when the chair reaches the end of the track, the wheels crash into a block, bringing the chair to a sudden halt and unceremoniously dumping the victim, probably still stunned by the surprise cream blast halfway down, into the giant pie via a bellyflop.

The cameras capture a wide shot showing the giant pie and the slide as Tyler ascends the stairs. He takes a seat on the chair, and can't help but take this all in. He looks down the slide, which seems higher and longer up here than it did down on the ground. He sees the cream cannons, aimed at the slide and ready to blast him. He sees the giant pie he's about to get tossed into. And finally, he sees the audience, as the slide was built facing them. They look right back at him and his naked body, and he spots a group of college students frat boys, probably snickering at him, some of them waving cartoonishly, some of them holding their thumbs and index fingers close together, the universal sign of "small penis". It seems there's nowhere he can hide from this humiliation.

The attention shifts back to Marc, now next to a comically large lever. He looks up at Tyler in the seat.

"Well Tyler, we gave you all the chances in the world, but it just wasn't enough. Just remember, we didn't make you get naked in front of all these people. It was your choice." Marc goads the crowd. "On the count of three, let's show Tyler what happens to LOSERS here on What Would You Do?"

ONE! TWO! THREE!

Marc yanks the lever, and Tyler descends quickly down the 20-foot-long ramp. He feels the rush of air as he moves through space, then suddenly remembers the cream cannons. Nervously, he spots them, and--

BOOM! Two shotgun blasts of heavy whipped cream clobber Tyler from head to chest. He tried to get his hands up and palms out to brace himself, but couldn't get them up in time to block anything. Totally stunned, Tyler tries to wipe away the cream blasted into his face, forgetting that he's still hurtling toward a giant--

BOCK! Tyler hears the wheels hit the steel blocks at the end of the track. Now, he's freefalling. It feels like forever, and yet it's nowhere near enough time to brace for impact. The pie doesn't arrive when he thinks it should, so for a moment he thinks maybe he'll safely fall onto a soft mat, but

PLOONK! Tyler bellyflops awkwardly into the massive pie. His forearms hit first, sinking beneath the surface and doing nothing to brace his fall. His legs hit next, and they don't reach the bottom either. Then comes Tyler's pie-covered penis. Stimulated by the pieing he took, his slight boner pierces the cream like a sword, creating a tingling sensation like nothing he'd ever felt before. Then his torso. And finally, Tyler takes it in the face: already wrecked by multiple pies and two violent blasts of cream, his face plunges straight down into the pie, his shocked, wide open mouth quickly crammed with filling from the biggest pie ever created for TV.
Tyler disappears beneath the surface, his big, muscular ass sticking out of the pie, still clean. It creates a hilarious visual for the cameras, which zoom in on his lifeless body. Drowning in cream and his own embarrassment, Tyler hears the crowd cheering the consequences of his failure. He can make out the frat boys taunting him, mean as ever. He waits a few extra beats, wishing this would all go away, before lifting his head and pushing his arms down into the cream to find the bottom. He slowly resurfaces to find people pointing at him and applauding. He gets to his knees, and, still buried in cream all the way up to his ribcage, finds Marc riling up the crowd.

All he hears is, "And that's the Pie Slide everyone! Let's give it up for our two wonderful contestants, Tyler and Sarah!"

The audience rises to their feet and applauds the couple, as if to say, no hard feelings, it's all just entertainment.

Finally, Marc throws to break. "Stick around, we've got a lot more fun around the corner here on What Would You Do!"

The video cuts to a slow motion shot of Sarah getting her pie barrage, her pretty face taking one blow after another. It then cuts to slow motion of Tyler getting blasted with cream, and descending the final few feet before getting dumped, white cream going airborne as the Pie Slide received his naked body.

Finally, a live shot of Tyler, a ghost completely covered in whipped topping. His penis has hardened from the sensation of the pie, the coldness of it, or both. Gobs of cream fall off his body. The cameras catch Tyler trying to take a step toward the edge of the pie, but he slips and falls backward back into it, landing on his ass and covering the last few clean inches of his body. He stands up again, slips, and falls forward, getting one last facial for the road and getting his dick smothered one more time. Once more, he groans from the tingly feeling in his loins.

The show finally goes to break and Tyler remains face down in the pie, guessing that this is where he lives now. With the crew racing around the set trying to prepare it for the next game, Tyler is surprised to see one hand extended toward him. It's Bruce. Tyler takes his hand and lifts himself out of the pie, getting one last round of applause from the audience. A stagehand rushes over and gives him a towel to cover up, saying, "I'll go ahead and grab your clothes too."

After the last episode ended with Scott and Alice having no place to wash off, they raised hell with Comedy Central's social media team, complaining that "building a shower is the least you could do for the poor folks you people take advantage of", which ended in some funding appearing out of nowhere to get a shower put in place.

Backstage and totally spent, Tyler was staring into space when Sarah found him. She had also been given a towel, but she considered it useless and tossed it aside, what with her entire body caked in sticky goo. So here she was in skimpy workout clothes covered in pie, slime, and caramel, and here he was, totally naked and covered in whipped cream.

Sarah lightly punched Tyler in the arm. "I fucking hate you, you know that?"

"I am SO sorry I put you through that," Tyler replied sheepishly.

Sarah said, "What happened to the guy that picked me up at a bar and challenged me to a game of darts? Remember, you said 'I win, we go on a date?'"

Tyler responded, "Really, the possibility of exposing myself on national TV was just too good for me to pass up."

"I KNEW you were an exhibitionist, you little shit!" Sarah joked. "I love you. Come here, let me kiss you."

Sarah and Tyler share a passionate kiss. "So you're not mad at me, then?" Tyler asked.

"I really wanted that dinner! But no, that was the craziest thing I've ever done. You know what your real punishment is?"

"What's that?"

"When we tell this story at Christmas, YOU'RE gonna have to tell my family everything."

"Wowwwww, who's the little shit now?"

"Well, that may be," Sarah flirted. She started to walk away, saying over her shoulder, "But this little shit is gonna hit up that new shower now. And I strongly recommend that you join me."