Cum for the Chills, Get the Thrills

As Donna's mind faded, pleasure starting to feel like pain, she reflected on her dating life and found it eerily similar to this. Mindless sex, hookup after hookup, all with neverending hot ladies and no substance to a single relationship. God this all felt so good, better than it had any right to feel; but was it time for more? More than empty orgasms and conquests?

When Donna just couldn't think- couldn't take any more- she screamed. Screamed her final climax, and screamed into the spasming pussy over her mouth and nose. Hell, she came so hard the zombie fist in her twat nearly popped right out of the socket.

She screamed, and shortly thereafter, it all returned to dark.

The corridor of funhouse mirrors carried on twenty or thirty feet, distorting Artie's image as he hurried past at a brisk pace. He barely paused to look, as he expected sadistic murder clowns to pour out of the walls any second. The squawking horns, floppy shoes slapping along, and the occasional deranged chortle were unmistakable. It was a haunted house; he knew he wasn't going to outrun the actors forever. Hell, his adrenaline was pumping and it seemed like this was going to be a great damn time.

As his movements grew faster and more erratic, pushing through the distorted mirrors and around a sharp corner, he waited. They were there- hadn't gone to really any lengths to hide they were there (classic!)- but why hadn't they come out?

After the turn, the space opened onto a room. One filled with those soft, padded, dangling things like punching bags you ran around in. Escape was through them somewhere... At least, escape to another segment of this fun house. A maze, probably.

Artie pushed cautiously through the padded danglers, eyes sweeping the walls looking for doors or halls through them. Ahead of him was pitch black, and it was difficult to tell if he was seeing walls or open space. All he could do was keep going, and he shoved his way toward the vacuous blackness, heart pounding. He could hear the cranking and screeching of the rusty chains as momentum flowed through the columns. Beneath that, he realized the other noises had vanished.

Creeped out, the punny one pressed forward into the darkness. A breeze stirred from the wall of inky dark ahead of him- a way out or beyond. Artie hurried forward, skin erupting with bumps, and he stepped into the void.

For about two steps, it was fine. Easy going, eerie quiet. Then...

A stream of seltzer materialized out of the void and struck him right in the face. He sputtered, surprised, and stumbled backward. A body was tucked behind him and he fell ass-over-teakettle and rolled comically, accompanied by perfectly-timed sound effects like it had all been scripted. A tide of raucous laughter welled up around him, and lights erupted from nowhere. Circus music blared from every corner. The entire place now resembled the performance rings in the center of a Big Top tent. Sprawled on his ass, Artie gibbered to see the number of clowns surrounding him, laughing hysterically. The one holding the seltzer bottle was a large, male clown with two thick curly bushes of red hair sticking out from either side, and his overstuffed pants were striped banana yellow and lime green.

All sorts of clowns hopped and hooted with glee in the ring, and it was surprising to see that they weren't gory. They didn't have weapons to menace him with, and their teeth weren't jagged rows of fangs. They just looked like... clowns. That wasn't un-creepy, but wasn't the point to be overtly terrifying?

One of the lady clowns offered a big, gloved hand and a gentle look of regret, and Artie accepted the help while staring awestruck at her big painted grin and red bulbous clown nose. Smiling, she pulled him to his feet- only for two others to come flank him and pants him in classic fashion. More laughter erupted, and that was when the confused young thirty-something began to hear the next layer of ambient sound. Somewhere, there was an audience. An audience laughing and clapping as the slap-schtick continued.

Well, at least Artie loved a good sight gag accompanying a classic pratfall routine.

One hell of a spotlight circled down from the ceiling, and Artie looked up. The whole damn place around him did look exactly like a large circus tent, right down to the tight peak at the top. What an illusion! The guy barely had time to marvel at the impressiveness before a voice began pounding through the air.

"Your attention, young and old! Friends and freaks! Welcome to the Grand Finale of tonight's performance!"

The declaration was met with wild applause and adulation from an unseen audience, and the figure booming it out came riding in on a unicycle, a fluttering tailcoat (red) streaming behind. A cacophony of horns added to the nearby din. Artie remained sprawled on his ass staring up at the circling figures in riotous colors and styles. So many clowns.

The one on the unicycle was clearly the ringmaster- holding a cane and wearing a top hat besides the tailcoat. He swiftly rode a ring around Artie, distracting him long enough to turn him right into a small female clown who smacked him full-on with a pie tin piled high with whipped topping. The mess succumbed to gravity when she stepped back, cackling, and the tin clattered to the ground. The layers of cream splatted after it.

Nose and mouth full of fluffy, sweet goo, he sputtered and wiped his face with both hands. Laughter and honking erupted all around him.

"Our special guest performer for the evening for such a lovely audience!" The ringmaster called out, to a thorough round of applause.

A hand seemed to press the small of the fun one's back, making him bow. Artie was completely perplexed. This definitely had a sinister vibe to it, but really, nothing was happening to him beyond a few comedic antics. This place was weird, though. So big, and the production values were intense.

Under the spotlight, the man in the makeup and the old school suit shrugged, and took the chance to indulge himself.

"A spectacular audience!" He called, summoning years of theatre training and vocally projecting across the open ground. "Clearly a crowd with taste." To illustrate his point, Artie swiped some of the residual cream off his face and licked it from his finger. Giving a comical "Mmmmmm-mmmm!" he began to waddle forward like a penguin, before dropping his top half and tucking his head to execute a somersault while pulling up his pants. He adroitly rolled to his feet, popping up expertly, and threw his hands in the air to show off the move.

After a scant few seconds, right on cue, his trousers dropped back down. The 'audience' went wild, howling with laughter, as did the clowns around him. Bowing, Artie stooped to pick the garment up for real, but was stopped by hands tugging on his arms.

"A fine start to the performance, my boy, but don't be hasty! The act has just begun." The Ringmaster swept back, and the merry jesters surrounded their target. A male clown with a rainbow afro ran up holding another pie. This one was not covered in whipped cream, and even though he couldn't get away from the clowns, Artie had to goggle at them. Things were getting a bit freakier now.

Apparently, they weren't going to let him leave.

"You must be hungry!" The bewigged clown said, brandishing his wobbling plate of unknown sugary make. "But oh, I've forgotten the cream! Giggles, won't you grab the canister and give it a good spray before we all have a slice?"

A boisterous lady clown in an extremely loud polka-dotted jumper skirt with huge white bloomers underneath rushed forward.

"Why of course Mr. Boffles! What kind of host serves custard pie without a nice thick, white cream topping? Heck, there should be a cream filling, too!" The clown woman- Giggles- mimed like she was reaching beneath her skirt for a canister, but instead, she snagged Artie's boxers and yanked them down, making him gasp. A male clown in a pinstripe jumpsuit held him from behind and laughed against his neck. The warm puff of air on his skin made him tingly. Disconcertingly- though he was unable to move and starting to feel freaked- he noticed something odd.

The clown behind him smelled great- like pine and citrus, and the one called "Giggles", beneath her comical, gravity-defying braided wig and painted-on oversized Cupid's bow lips, was kind of cute. And well-endowed apparently. Her breasts rubbed against his chest and belly as she stripped his shorts off and slid her hand downward to grip his cock. Shockingly, Artie found the touch warm and teasing, and his body reacted immediately.

A slow slide-whistle sound began as his dick rose hard in her hands, and the noise was so perfectly synchronized with his erection he had to admit they'd mastered comedic timing. It ended with a jaunty note as he sprang to full attention; the clown holding his arms back wasn't exactly 'laying down' on the job either. His cock jabbed Artie in the butt as if on the same wavelength, and one of the guy's hands rose to his nipple, again exactly in sync.

At the same time, Giggles and the unnamed clown honked those different parts of his anatomy at the same time, and the sound effects matched hilariously. The unseen stands of 'people' laughed. Artie sputtered, his whole body jerking as he lit up with arousal. Almost like the seltzer from earlier had been spiked- or even the cream.

"Won't you indulge us, friend?" Mr. Boffles was asking. "Looks like you've got something to help us serve the dessert! Let him have it, Giggles!" Just like that, Artie was prodded forward- and the jiggling, thick custard pie was right there to catch his dick.

Artie groaned as he buried himself into the substance with a glutinous noise. Behind him, the piney clown guy grabbed his hips and pulsed against Artie's ass, making him mimic the motion. This made the captive, well, fuck the pie.

"Now I know how Jason Biggs felt," the man quipped, unable to stop himself. Giggles below was licking his navel, watching- and giggling- as his hips pounded into the dish. Somehow the custard was holding its shape, making for a surprisingly pleasurable sensation that was just tight enough to stimulate the sensitive nerves of his cock. It didn't help that someone was caressing his balls and that a seemingly hung clown nestled his bulge in the crack of Artie's bare ass as he dry-thrusted. Unable to break the hold on his body, gangly, goofy Artie slipped into the moment, feeling the rush of an impending orgasm as well as something else.

The hands on him were increasing, and half-hazy, he realized that clowns of different genders were part of the pack, gleefully increasing his sensory overload and enjoying themselves. They were starting to undress, too, showing off tits and dicks and slits, gorgeous asses, legs, and everything else. All while still wearing the requisite makeup, bright wigs, and various clown accessories.

Hell, as he started to cum, he was pretty sure he saw a clown with the bulbs of two horns in both her asshole and pussy, and she was playing a pretty competent version of Yankee Doodle Dandy by squeezing down. He wanted to laugh, but he couldn't because he felt Giggles bite his hip and tug his balls while she held the pie to his groin. Artie lost it, spurting hot seed into the dense, creamy dessert. At the moment of climax, "AWOOOOOOOGA!" sounded out loud and bounced around the tented space.

The audience about died.

The Ringmaster chuckled, watching intently.

"That's it, my boy! A nice generous squirt, and once you're done dispensing it, we'll all enjoy a nice helping of cream pie. There will be even be a double serving for you!"

The climax kept pouring out of him, shooting an overabundant load of white liquid throughout the entire confection and all over everything within five feet, including Giggles. When Artie was finally done coming, he panted helplessly, opening his eyes to see the pie removed from his hips. Fuck, his groin was a slathered, dripping mess. It didn't last long, though, as every clown nearby crammed in close and began licking him clean. The entire scene became a smorgasbord of chaos as tongues flitted across the man's skin and swallowed down every last bit of goo, whether cum or custard. Even Giggles was licked clean, but not before she was turned onto her head and the entire contents of the pie tin dumped into her open knickers and smeared all over her cunt.

The Ringmaster leaned on his cane and leveled his face with Artie's. "Ready for another delicious cream pie?" A clown came to his left with yet another tin piled high. "How about two?" Now a clown popped up on the right, bearing a second one.

"Coconut?" The jokester adlibbed, daring them to try him further with these ludicrous shenanigans.

"And a banana split!" The tailcoated clown snickered madly in response. The actual physical pies were casually tossed backwards at the same time, and each one landed on the faces of two clowns who were fucking in a doggy-style position... while balanced on a large red sphere or ball. The clown on top had a parasol in one hand while driving into the other, and they carried on with that gravity-defying act of sex regardless of the incident.

Before he could even sputter a token protest, Artie felt the clown behind him finally drop trou. Giggles hand-walked her way forward and remained perched like that, bending her legs entirely over her head as she pressed her exposed, filthy pussy onto the cock she'd just recently made cum inside a custard confection. Artie was still hard, and she enveloped him easily. He moaned raggedly. As he sank deep into her hot pussy, the thick shaft of the male clown worked its way into his backside, slickened with something to ease passage.

"Fuck him good, Sparky!" Giggles begged.

Clearly that was the man at his ass, because in short order, Artie found himself with a dick all the way down into his hole. A labored grunt escaped him, and it did not take long to notice that with every thrust of Sparky's, he sank into Giggles just as hard, then was pulled back until he was pushed forward and thrusting by proxy. So the rhythm began. After a minute or two, the man who masked his insecurities with humor had forgotten all about his problems. He was just too damn into what was happening.

Finding his own motion, Artie fucked and was fucked in return. He caught himself kissing Sparky, reaching down to stroke Giggles' clitty. At some point they fell into a triple-stacked doggy-style thrust train, and his mouth was put to use. Sometimes sucking a cock, sometimes licking a twat- all of it exciting and confusing but oh-so-right. Why should he have to hide behind the gags and the pranks? Why was he afraid of being a bi/pan man and just... living his life?

Once or twice he would suck a clown cock and wind up with a mouth and face full of seltzer instead of cum, sure, but being pounded into a woman's pussy by a man's dick in his ass was overpowering in all the best ways.

Artie felt his backside suddenly filled with hot liquid and it made him give up. He shot himself again, this time deep inside Giggles, and she erupted all over him in ripples of release. Clowns came 360 degrees in all directions. Even the Ringmaster was completing a spectacular feat of aerial fucking as he and a conjoined partner zipped back and forth on trapezes high above the ground, only holding onto each other by the genitals.

A wonderous spectacle of mixed sex everywhere, and it seemed the closeted funny man was in good company. Good enough to join this parade of ridiculousness if it weren't... a show?

Was it a show? What kind of haunted house attraction featured actual clown orgies and the seduction of its patrons? The man had no idea, but he fell upon another female clown to pay her some oral attention while she juggled rubber chickens. It wasn't long until someone else knelt behind him and began rimming his asshole, cleaning up the cum there, and the orgy continued.

It was a storm of oversized pants and hand buzzers being activated in some very delicate places until Artie finally felt completely drained.

When he came for the last time, almost dry, he hollered aloud. For some reason, he just had to scream out his lingering frustrations and fears. He screamed until the lights went out, and the applause faded away.

Riley whirled, chilled by the sensation of touch along their back as well as the dropping of the temperature. It was highly noticeable; they could see their own breath. A quick spin proved no one was there, and the 'bootlegger' studied the house. No visible disturbances... at least not yet. Besides the cold spot, there was a faint trace of scent in the air. Almost like perfume or cologne, and years of esoteric interests had already provided the answer. Ghosts.

This was the "haunted" part of the haunted attraction, and wow, were the effects something. Must be a hidden vent around there piping in the frigid air and the scent. Probably backed into something that tickled too. What next? Were candles going to spontaneously erupt into flame all over the place?

Stepping forward, away from the draft, Riley ventured on. Maybe there was an interactive component to this. Some kind of mystery or backstory to solve? Otherwise, where were the performers? Usually, these things were full of costumed actors waiting to jump out at every corner. So far there was no one besides the people selling the tickets and letting them inside.

Given the spectacular production values, though, it wouldn't be shocking if the budget went entirely to sets and props rather than live performers. Maybe saving the active scares for the moment the tension was at its peak? Who knew.

As far as furniture and décor went, the place did not scream "lived in". Tables with dusty vases and long-dead flowers, sheet-covered fainting couches, and the occasional grimy China cabinet or armoire were dispersed throughout. The walls had some artwork on them, but the canvases were difficult to parse in the dim light. Some were torn up, and others were just too filthy with dirt and webs.

Not much else remained in the winding downstairs of this fake mansion, but there was a way up. Riley took it, clutching the carved handrail firmly. Only silence followed...

...Or so they thought.

The second floor revealed a large open library, which was magnificent all on its own. A short gasp escaped Riley's lungs as their eyes traced one side to the next. Shelves upon shelves stretched across the space, with antique lamps and ornately carved wooden desks and velvet-padded furniture. Everything was coated with what appeared to be decades (if not centuries) worth of dust. Cobwebs positively everywhere. How had no other patrons possibly gone in here tonight- or seemingly, the entire season? It would have to be so hard to keep up the illusion of this undisturbed book repository for an entire spooky season's worth of guests! Some massive dedication, here.

It was breathtaking, really, especially for someone who loved history and the minutiae of non-traditional fields of study.

Riley walked toward the shelves, lured by the temptation of books. They had to know if they were set-dressing only, or if they perhaps held clues as to why (so far) no actors were there trying to scare the vintage pants off their guest. Furthermore, where were all the other attendees? There were no footprints to give away anyone who had come before, and as they walked, Riley looked. A trail of scuffed dust revealed thick carpet beneath, and it was silky-slick underfoot. Definitely not some cheap effect then.

As the history buff finally reached the tomes (all covered in layers of dust as well), they noted the contents: Ritual magic, witchcraft, possession, spirits, exorcisms, religious rites, devil worship... and oddly enough, Victorian etiquette. A little funny to have that in the mix, although it made a modicum of sense. If you were going to conduct a black magic ceremony and summon an apparition or something, you might as well be polite about it!