(Female Version) Life's a B**ch: A What Would You Do Story (Part 2 of 3)

Read Part 1 here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/female-version-b-98009499 

(If you read Part 1, lucky you! You can skip down to the Round 5 section of the story below!)

Introduction

It was Day 1 of the inaugural Life’s a Beach Festival, a 4-day music festival being held for the first time on the beach in Daytona Beach, Florida.

Comedy Central was a presenting sponsor of the festival, and their smash hit show, the revival of the 90s variety show What Would You Do, was located in Daytona Beach and was taping a special episode where winners of games played on the show would take home 4-Day VIP passes to L-A-B Fest, giving them upgraded accommodations and access to the most exclusive areas at the festival.

The first game of the day was a simple one: two teams of four went head-to-head, one person from each team was assigned to a day of the festival, and had to name more artists performing that day than their opponent. The loser had to pick one of eight squares from a “Mystery Board”, which contained numerous punishments and, ultimately, a GAME OVER square, which would award the VIP passes to the other team, and send every member of the team that drew the square to one of the show’s infamous pie devices, inspired by the messy contraptions of the original.

Four girls and four guys took part in this game. The girls were rising seniors at the University of Minnesota and who had just driven in from Minneapolis earlier that morning; the guys were rising seniors at Arizona State University, and they too had just driven in from Tempe earlier that day.

Halfway through the up-to-eight round game, the girls were clearly worse off. All four of them got a pie smashed in her face as a penalty for losing a round.

• Lizzie is a member of the school dance team and had the slim, ballerina-type body to prove it. She started the game in a white cropped 3/4-sleeve shirt and matching white leggings, but got caked in the butt, caked in the face, and had her clothes cut off to reveal a white and blue striped bikini top and matching thong underneath.
• Maddie was the Barbie of the group, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a petite build. She wore a pink bralette underneath a magenta cropped hoodie that was stained with pie mess. She also sported pink yoga pants on her long legs, and had pink nails to match it all.
• Nicole is somewhere between a blonde and a redhead; 5’5” with a runner’s build and with nothing but a sky blue sports bra that was slowly getting stickier and stickier from pie remnants, and tie-dyed white and sky blue short bike shorts on. She won her round, making her the cleanest of the four.
• Bea had put in the most work into her look today, but you couldn’t tell by looking at her now. She was ready to rock out in a black v-neck tank top, black mini-skirt and fishnet stockings, all of which covered up an American flag tube top bikini, but all that was left of her was the bikini; like Lizzie, her black outfit was cut to shreds as a penalty for losing a previous round.

Meanwhile, the guys had largely gotten off scot-free, with the exception of one burly bro.

• Ricky is Mexican-American, 5’10” and toned with tan skin and close cropped dark brown hair. He sported a Toon Squad jersey (from Space Jam) and paired it with maroon and gold basketball shorts with the Arizona State trident logo on them.
• Charlie wore a pink and black Inter Miami jersey with Lionel Messi’s name and #10 on the back, with light blue denim jeans. He looked every bit a soccer player, shorter and more slender with a well-built lower half.
• Ben was a striking 6’4” Swedish international student with a blonde ponytail and pecs for days beneath his unbuttoned baseball-style button-down shirt. Like Jason, Ben’s thighs were basically popping out of his jorts. Partially by his proximity to these guys, he transformed from a mild-mannered freshman international student to one of the hardest partiers on campus.
• Jason is jacked, Italian-American and had a strong Staten Island accent. He came in looking like he just finished a workout, wearing a skintight blue tank top with the Superman logo on it and slim-fit running shorts on his thick thighs. He had cemented his bro-y look by gelling his hair that day. But all of that was wiped away when the REVERSE THE ENTIRE BOARD square came up and he had to get all the punishments all the girls faced: getting his clothes cut off, getting pied repeatedly, and getting caked. Now, he was nothing but a blubbering mess, pie filling up and down his body, with blast zones covering his face, chest, and, curiously, his crotch, where splatters of white whipped cream and red cherry pie filling smothered his formerly bright lime green speedo.

The game was only half over, which was good, because the studio was only half destroyed.

Round 5

“Welcome back to What Would You Do, everybody!”, Marc Summers said. He was the longtime emcee of this show, dating back to its original run, and now that it aired later in the evening and catered to an exclusively adult audience, Marc and his writing team could finally lean into all the risque ideas they’d picked up after all these years.

“Well,  it was a wild and crazy first half of our game. But the GAME OVER square hasn’t come up yet, so we have to keep going!

“What we’re gonna do now is go back to the beginning. I’m gonna call up the same groups who played earlier, and once again, you’re going to have to give me the names of artists playing on your assigned day of the festival, rapid fire.

“You cannot use any artists in the first round. And once again, the loser is the person who can’t come up with a correct response, or who gives me someone performing on a different day of the festival. Got it?”

Having barely navigated the first half of this game, all eight contestants visibly dreaded continuing to play this war of attrition. But with passes valued at over $1,000 at stake, they nodded their assent, and Round 5 commenced.

“Alright,” Marc said, “Let’s go back to the beginning with Ricky and Lizzie!”

Both contestants stepped forward. Back in Round 1, Ricky won, and Lizzie drew a cake in the face as punishment. She ended up taking two cakes, including one from festival performer Steve Aoki, thanks to some complaining on her part, and her messed up face and hair showed the effects of that penalty. Now she stood here in nothing but her bikini top and thong, feeling more exposed than she’d ever been in her entire life.

“Once again, no duplicates. New artists only! I want artists performing on Thursday, okay?

Ricky and Lizzie both nod.

“Lizzie, you’re up first. On your mark! Get set! Go!”

Her: “Sofi Tukker.”

Him: “Timmy Trumpet.”
Her: “Uhh… I don’t know any more!”

Marc: “Are you sure? 3 seconds!”

Her: “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

BUZZ.

“The Beaches!”

“Oh no, Lizzie!” Marc said, this time with fake sorrow in his voice. “The Beaches is right, but you didn’t get it in time!

“So I’m sorry, but I’m gonna need a number!”

The cameras cut to a seriously frowning Lizzie, whose hand is covering her mouth as she examines the board. The odds of drawing the GAME OVER square have increased dramatically, now just 1 in 4. I would do anything to not lose this game, she bargains.

“7.”

It’s a claim that immediately gets tested, as Robin walks slowly and dramatically over to the board to peel away square number 7 to reveal…

PIE SPANKING! With four skulls!

“Oh my gosh,” Marc exclaims. “Robin, I’m gonna need more pies! Every one of these girls is getting a pie right to her butt!

The girls shout nooo almost in unison. They vividly remember how viciously the guys pied them in the face in a previous round, and now they get a free shot at a more intimate part of their bodies?

Robin gives each man another cream pie. Somehow, these are piled even higher with pie filling and whipped cream than any of the others.

“Ladies,” Marc says, “If you would please turn around and receive your punishment.”

Some of the girls plead for mercy. There must be another way! But alas, the only way to maintain their fading hopes of winning the VIP passes is to get their asses pied on national television. After their complaints fall on deaf ears, the girls finally relent.

Maddie is the most covered up with her tight pink yoga pants still on. Nicole was relatively modest in her skintight bike shorts. Bea had her American flag bikini bottom covering her. But Lizzie was as exposed as could be: after getting her outfit cut off her body earlier in the game, all that remained was some ass floss. The pie would be especially cold, especially devastating, to the cute blonde dancer.

“Gentlemen, on the count of three, do your worst!”

The audience gives the signal.

ONE! TWO! THREE!

The boys attack the girls all at once, smashing their cream pies hard into their asses. Terror-filled screams ensue as the girls universally feel the strangest, gooeyest, most invasive experience of their entire lives. Clothes, bodies, and egos are all instantly destroyed on impact, with hits so hard that side splatter from some girls end up splattering the girls to their left and right.

The cameras slow down in real time to capture cream flying in all directions, the girls’ butt cheeks rippling out from the sheer force of the hits. Bare-assed Lizzie takes it especially hard, stumbling forward a few steps before regaining her balance.

Ben took the liberty of rubbing his pie up Bea’s ass and onto her lower back, before taking a couple of fingers to the back of her bikini, pulling it open, and letting pie slop slide right in between her cheeks. Upon feeling this, Bea yelps, whips around, and shoves Ben backwards. He smirks at her and holds up both hands as a halfhearted peace offering.

It’s a scene of utter devastation to the four girls’ dump trucks. But with no GAME OVER card picked yet, the game must go on.

“Round 6, I’m gonna need Bea, and I’m gonna need Charlie!

Bea steps forward uncomfortably, visibly put off by the pie still shifting around in her bikini bottom, the whipped cream melting and leaving trails of white down her legs.

Marc instructs them to name artists performing Friday,

Bea was so overwhelmed from the totality of this: her clothes being cut off, Ben opening her bikini to dump pie into it, how instantly her makeup work in the car this morning was ruined, that she lost track of time. She snaps back to attention to hear Marc saying…

“Three seconds, Bea!”

“Kendrick Lamar!” she shouts, the first thing that came to mind.

BUZZ.

“I’m sorry, Bea!” Marc says. “But one of the rules was, you couldn’t repeat someone you said in the last round, and you did! So once again, the boys win another round, and you win another box from the Mystery Board!”

Bea covers her face with her hands. Her heart races, knowing that the chances of pulling the GAME OVER card and taking the automatic loss at this point was 1 in 3. But would that be better than pulling whatever punishment awaited under the other two cards? Was any of this still worth it?

“Three.”

“Okay, then,” Marc says. “Box number 3. Robin, would you please?”

A drumroll kicks in over the studio speakers as Robin dramatically walks toward the board. She takes hold of the panel and peels it away to reveal…

HUMAN ICE CREAM SUNDAE! With two skulls!

“LET’S GOOOOOO!” Charlie yells, knowing he’ll get to ruin the already half-naked Bea and another girl of his choice.

Marc barely gets the question out before Charlie yells, “HER!”, pointing right at innocent-looking (and mostly clean) Nicole.

The audience whoops once again, as Nicole tentatively steps forward, an extremely pained look on her pie-smothered face. Robin wheels out an old-timey sundae cart, which contains two large tubs of melted vanilla ice cream, two bananas, two huge containers of Hershey’s chocolate syrup, and two extra large cans of whipped cream.

Two stools are also brought out for the two victims, but as they are being set down, Charlie whispers something to Marc. Marc’s face immediately lights up, and he nods vigorously before speaking into the microphone.

“So Bea,” Marc says, “You’re going to have a seat for us here. But Nicole, Charlie has asked to make the ice cream sundae in those tight little shorts, and who are we to say no?”

More hoots and hollers from the crowd. Nicole yells something about unfairness, but Robin is already guiding her by the shoulders to the spot where the chair was supposed to be. Charlie approaches Bea first, meaning Nicole gets to watch one of her best friends get smothered first, knowing that she’s about to receive the exact same treatment.

“Alright, Charlie,” Marc says. “Whenever you’re ready, let’s turn these two into some sweet ice cream sundaes!”

Bea draws her arms into her chest, clenches her fists, and closes her eyes. Barely three seconds pass before she feels it: ice cold, melting ice cream hitting her head, oozing down her face, her shoulders, and her back. She recoils further into herself, stomps her feet on the floor, and screams, all as her American flag bikini top becomes enveloped in the gooey white of heavy cream and the scent of vanilla.

It isn’t long before her world turns black, as an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup is turned upside down on her head. It, too, oozes all over her body, this time turning the red, white, and blue bikini a deep black, mixing with the ice cream pooled into her lap to make an oddly beautiful swirl of color.

Finally, she opens her eyes, only to find a spray can of whipped cream shooting out at her face and chest. The whipped cream starts melting immediately, mixing with the melted ice cream and chocolate syrup to create a beautiful black and white effect in her lap.

But that wasn’t all. Bea then felt chunks of something soft hitting her body: chunks of banana pelting her, then also settling into her lap.

What feels like a few seconds pass, so, thinking the ordeal is finally over, Bea opens her eyes, only to see all the colors of the rainbow flying right at her face. Rainbow sprinkles! An entire container was thrown directly in her face, sticking immediately to the chocolate and cream smothering her entire front half. She yelps again, but that reaction is abruptly cut short by something unexpected: a whipped cream pie slammed right in her face to top her off!

Charlie slides the pie tin over her head, revealing a featureless Bea, covered in chocolate, cream, and sprinkles, gobs of whipped cream flooding out of her mouth and onto her chest. She had long ago cut out sweets from her diet, in an effort to tone her body into the muscle machine it is today, but she never thought she’d be made into a sweet. Charlie takes a finger, glides it across Bea’s shoulder, and eats the mixture of cream and chocolate he picks up. She’s absolutely delicious.

Meanwhile, Nicole is standing next to Bea in horror, knowing she’s about to receive the same treatment, except in her beloved blue and white tie-dyed yoga shorts.

The audience applauds the wreckage that Bea has become, but when that dies down, all the attention shifts over to Nicole.

“Nicole,” Marc says kindly, “I’m gonna need you to open up those shorts for us.”

“Nicole sighs dejectedly. She takes a couple of seconds to steel herself, then her thumbs slowly make their way to the waistband of her bike shorts. She hooks them around the waistband on each hip, and slowly pulls them open.

Almost immediately, she screams.

Even though she didn’t open up her underwear as well, that thin fabric is barely a match for the freezing cold melting ice cream. Her hips jerk violently as they react to the coldness of the ice cream, which fill her shorts and begin flooding down her beautifully tanned legs. It takes a while for the ice cream to be emptied – after all, it’s not so easy emptying a giant container of the stuff directly into tight clothing – but with the deed finally done, Charlie moves on to the chocolate syrup.

He holds the container high right in front of her face, torturing her with the visual of the stuff that’s going to ruin her shorts and underwear, then turns the container upside down. Chocolate comes gushing out of the container, right into her shorts, instantly penetrating the fabric and turning them an ugly shade of brown. Nicole’s white underwear underneath is also immediately ruined. Her knees buckle and she audibly yells “nooo, stop, pleasseee”, but the slop keeps on coming.

The sliced up bananas get tossed in for good measure, then a long, agonizing spray of whipped cream, and the rainbow sprinkles. Nicole is in a daze; it feels like an entire meal has been dumped into her pants, which, even if she’s able to save them, will smell like dessert for probably forever. But that stupor is again replaced by a scream, as Charlie winds up and nails Nicole right between the eyes with another whipped cream pie.

At this, she reflexively lets go of the hold she had on her shorts, causing them to snap back against her waist, forcing another deluge of chocolate, sprinkles, and melted cream down her legs. Nicole made workout videos on Instagram in her spare time; she could only imagine what her viewers would think if they saw her like this. She knew the comments on her posts from now on would never be the same.

And yet! The game is still not over!

“Round 7!” Marc exclaims. “Maddie and Jason, would you please step forward?”

After seeing Jason manhandle her friends like a complete buffoon, Maddie is extra motivated, but also extra intimidated, by the chance to face off against him again. She tries to remember every Saturday artist she can, but also all the ones already mentioned. At most, she has two or three in her head. If Jason isn’t a total meathead, she might be in trouble.

Before she knows it, Marc has yelled “GO!”, and the game is again underway.

Her: “Morgan Wade.”

Him: “The Linda Lindas.”

Her: “AC Slater.”

Him: “Tomorrow X Together.”

Her: “Goddamn it!”

She’d been checkmated again. Marc gives the three-second warning, but it’s of no use. She has nothing.

BUZZ.

The ladies are extremely overmatched. Is it fatigue from the drive? Did they come here just for the vibes? Either way, there’s now a 50/50 shot of picking the GAME OVER box. Maddie asks for Box #2, and it is revealed to be…

Not the GAME OVER box! Maddie was only looking out for those letters, so she erupted in cheers when she didn’t see them, not recognizing that what she actually picked was: BAZOOKA.

“Oh my god,” Marc says, “Maddie, I’m not sure if you are going to enjoy this more, or if Jason will.”

Robin wheeled out a Plexiglas backdrop and put it in place immediately behind Maddie, much to the relief of audience members directly behind her, who could probably see where this was going.

“Maddie,” Marc says, “Robin is going to blindfold you” – Robin does this – “and you’re going to stand directly in front of this backdrop.

“We have a bucket of green slime here, and it’s hooked up to this Bazooka-style cannon.” Marc gestures to a cannon on a stand about two feet tall, which is hooked up to a large bucket of slime. Maddie sees it and makes a frown just before her eyes are covered up by Robin’s blindfold.

Marc continues. “Whenever Jason is ready, he’s going to pull a little cord attached to the cannon, and all the slime in the cannon is going to fire directly at your face and body.”

The crowd goes absolutely nuts. No wonder Plexiglas was needed for this stunt, it’s going to be both messy AND violent!

Meanwhile, Lizzie, Nicole, and Bea are off to the side and are absolutely beside themselves. Every punishment is somehow worse than the one before it!

Maddie’s hands immediately cover up her blindfolded face; she wants to become as small as possible. But Marc simply will not allow this.

“Nuh-uh-uh, Maddie. Put your hands behind your back, please.”

Even though it already has pie all over it, Maddie takes off her beloved pink cropped hoodie. Whatever is in this slime is going to be impossible to remove, she thinks.

Rarely does someone voluntarily take off their clothes on this show, but this act brings a smile to Marc’s face, as does what Maddie reveals: a thin pink bralette, barely covering up her perky B-cup breasts. The bralette really accentuates them, and if you squint really hard, you could even see the outlines of her nipples.

She tosses her hoodie far away from where she’s standing, and reluctantly puts her hands behind her back.

“Okay, Jason,” Marc says, “Whenever you’re ready, let Maddie have it!”

Another drumroll plays. To Maddie, who’s just standing there as if waiting to be executed by firing squad, it feels like forever. She yells, “Just do it already!” but even then, Jason is resolute.

The crowd starts a slow clap. Maddie’s body starts physically shaking from the tension. The clapping gets faster, and faster, and faster, and—

BOOM!

An explosion of green slime gushes forward, colliding with Maddie’s body at high speed and splattering in all directions. Unable to see the slime coming, Maddie screams bloody murder when she feels it hit her body hard.

It hits the Plexiglas; it sprays the other girls standing a few feet away; a few droplets even hit some of the guys. But Maddie gets the worst of it. The cannon was oriented such that it emitted a tall but not-wide stream of slime, engineered to hit a person’s silhouette dead-on.

And it did. It scored a direct hit on Maddie's face, blasting her hair straight back, taking her breath away and forcing some slime up her nose and into her mouth. It immediately wrecked the skimpy pink bralette, smothered her slim, exposed torso in a slurry of green, and soaked her bright pink yoga pants in the same color. It was as though she had been hit by the longest paintball in human history.

The blast lasted maybe two seconds maximum, but it left Maddie a mangled mess. Torrents of green slime gave way to gravity, sliding down her face, chest, abs, pants and legs, all the way to the floor.

She removed the blindfold and felt the top of her head. She felt her hair in the worst tangle imaginable, with globs of green all over it. She pawed at her face to try and get as much slime as she could off, before sliding her hands down her shoulders, breasts, and torso to do more of the same.

Robin wheeled the slime-splattered Plexiglas away, allowing Marc to return to the game’s final round. Ben and Nicole nervously step forward.

“So this is it! We’ve gone the distance, and it’s now up to Nicole and Ben!

“We know that the only square left on the board is the GAME OVER square. There are no more reverse squares left, so all we have is sudden death!

“Whoever wins this round wins the game and the VIP passes! Now remember, last round, you guys named like half the artists playing on Sunday. I’m gonna need artists you didn’t name. If you give me someone that’s already been used, you lose. So this one’s gonna be the toughest round yet!  You guys ready?”

“Yes!” Nicole says.

“Fuck yeah!” Ben says.

“Alright! Well, Nicole, you’re up first! On your mark! Get set! GO!”

Her: “Afrojack!”

BUZZ.

“Nicole! You don’t remember? Ben said that one last time!

The crowd whoops and hollers.

Marc has a hard time talking over the noise. “So I’m sorry! But behind Panel #6” – Robin peels back the panel – “is the GAME OVER square, meaning the ladies lose, and the guys are the winners of the Life’s a Beach Festival VIP Passes! Congratulations, gentlemen!”

The boys are seen jumping up and down, high-fiving and bro-hugging each other. They can’t contain their excitement.

Meanwhile, the girls, already covered in mess, their clothes ruined or in tatters, are going home with nothing. Even worse, they have to go back to spending the next several nights camping out on the sand, looking, smelling like this.

Or worse.

“Now, remember, at the beginning of the game, I said that whichever team picks the GAME OVER square not only loses the game, but it also means … well, do you remember what it means, Nicole?”

“No, but I’m guessing it’s not good…”

Staten Island’s finest, Jason, interrupts his celebration with his boys and sprints over to the microphone. He grabs it from Marc and shouts, “It means every one of these bitches is going to a pie device, LET’S GOOOOOO, SEE YA LADIES!!!” He waves at them mockingly. This guy was always tough to take, especially in victory. Now, he’s a fucking VIP. Nicole couldn’t think of a single person who deserved it less.

“That’s right, you guys! Each and every one of you gets to take a ride on one of our lovely pie machines here! And we’ll tell you exactly which one when we come back on What Would You Do, so stay right where you are!”

The show’s theme music plays once more, and as is now customary, a montage of the previous segment’s messes plays in slow motion. This time, though, it’s only one shot: all four of the girls’ asses getting a pie slammed into it. For this shot, the camera is zoomed extra tight, almost to the point that each girl is basically indistinguishable but for the amount of clothing she’s wearing.

As this shot plays on the monitors in the studio, naturally, all eyes go straight to Lizzie’s thong-covered ass taking the pie spanking in slow motion. One moment, it’s clean. The next moment, a pie is heading toward it. Then, the explosive impact, butt cheeks, whipped cream, pie filling, and crust blasting out in all directions. Then, Lizzie shuffling forward from the force of the impact. And finally, the tin being taken away to reveal the massive damage her bare butt took: completely covered in cream and vanilla pudding.

The What Would You Do logo bounces around and settles right underneath the space between her butt cheeks, cream and crust still falling off it. Fade to black. Commercial.

To be continued…