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

Read Parts 1 and 2 here:
https://www.patreon.com/posts/female-version-b-98009499
https://www.patreon.com/posts/female-version-b-98417831 

(If you read Parts 1 and 2, lucky you! You can skip down to the Finale 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.

After the eight-round game, the girls were totally destroyed. As a penalty for losing different rounds, all four of them received a pie slammed in her face and another smashed into each of their asses.

• 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. However, her entire outfit was splattered with green slime after having been on the receiving end of a “bazooka gun” fired straight at her body.
• 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, completely discolored after having the ingredients of an ice cream sundae unceremoniously dumped into them. Melting ice cream mixed with chocolate syrup could be seen oozing down her tanned thighs.
• 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, and like Nicole, she had the remnants of an ice cream sundae all over her body.

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.

On top of all this, the girls had just drawn the GAME OVER square, forfeiting the VIP passes to the boys and sentencing each of them to a pie device to receive one final humiliation.

Finale

Just before the show went to commercial, one of the boys grabbed Marc’s microphone and mocked them one last time with their sentence.

“Every one of these bitches is going to a pie device, LET’S GOOOOOO, SEE YA LADIES!!!”

As the show returned from break, we now see how each girl is going to pay the price.

Poor Bea was locked into the Torture Machine, the Pie Pod/Pie Wash combo now outfitted with four cakes aimed at her face, several cream nozzles positioned above her body, and a bucket of mystery mess in the shape of a crown right above her head. Her wrists were locked to the chair’s armrests, her ankles to the chair’s legs, leaving a wide open target in just a skimpy American flag tube top bikini, still dripping melting cream and chocolate from being turned into a human sundae.

Nicole climbed a tall ladder, taking her 20 feet above the stage floor, only to take a seat like a lever positioned over a vat full of mess. The seat had one job: release the girl in the sports bra and tight shorts to take a terrifying freefall into slop. Except this time, instead of pie filling, the tank is filled with hundreds of gallons of green slime. Droplets of melting ice cream and bits of pie fell off Nicole’s body and took the long plunge down to the slime as Nicole shook and shivered on the seat, practically on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

Meanwhile, Maddie and Lizzie were both at the Pie Slide. But instead of being at the top of the slide, ready to take a long journey into a comically oversized cream pie, the skinny dancer Lizzie stood at the end of a diving board hanging a couple of feet over the giant pie. Just off the pie, firmly on safe ground, stood Marc alongside messy Maddie. Between them was a catapult with a single sheet cake on it.

And that’s where the final punishments would begin.

“Welcome back to What Would You Do!” Marc exclaimed. “If you watched the game before the break, you’ll know that not only did the women’s team from the University of Minnesota get clobbered with pies, cakes, and all sorts of good stuff, they also lost the game, giving the treasured Life’s a Beach weekend VIP passes over to the boys team!

“So while the boys sip Pina Coladas in beach chairs next to the stage, each and every one of these girls is probably gonna be picking some sticky stuff out of their hair the rest of the weekend.

“Now I’ve got Maddie here, and she tells me that she was roped into playing this game at the very last minute, is that right, Maddie?”

“It was Nicole’s idea,” Maddie pleaded. “I was just trying to play along, but I didn’t think it’d end up like this!”

“Well,” Marc said, “I’m gonna give you one last chance to save yourself.

“We’ve got Lizzie standing on the edge of that diving board right in front of you. And right here, we’ve got one giant cake on a nice little catapult for you.

“Your job is to launch that cake directly at Lizzie and knock her backwards into the giant pie on our famous What Would You Do Pie Slide!”

The crowd roars. Lizzie is like a lamb being led to a creamy slaughter.

“You get one shot at it. If you hit her, and she falls in, you’re safe, and nothing else happens to you! But if you hit her and she doesn’t fall, or if you miss her with the cake altogether, you get to take a seat right over there–” Marc points at the seat at the top of the Pie Slide ramp “--and you get to go down the Pie Slide yourself, okay?”

The crowd roars again. One of these two is getting messy, either bikini-and-thong dancer Lizzie, or the Barbie in matching pink bralette and leggings, Maddie.

The camera zips over to show Lizzie at the edge of the diving board, sneaking a peek at the massive cream pie below her. Her anxiety is palpable. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, though this nervous energy will only make her more unstable, even likelier to fall into the dessert if hit by the cake.

“Can we get a slow clap going, folks?” Marc says.

The audience starts to clap and stomp their feet, creating a thunderous roar throughout the studio. This is going to be good.

“On the count of three, Maddie, aim the cake, pull the lever, and give Lizzie your best shot!”

The claps hit a crescendo as the audience begins the count. Lizzie’s arms go ramrod straight as they drop to her sides.

ONE! TWO! THREE!

Maddie yanks a cord and sends the cake flying through the air. Nicole sees it approaching her face at high speed, and immediately shuts her eyes. She hears nothing but silence as she awaits the impact. Will it be hard? Will it hurt? She’d already been caked in the face and in the ass for losing an earlier round – will she ever see a birthday party the same way again?

It feels like forever, and she lets out a little involuntary yelp, and right at that moment–

BLAM!

The two-foot-long cake shuts her up, slamming right in her face and blasting the top half of her body, from her head to her tits. Her mangled, long, blonde hair flies skyward from the force of the hit. The cake was so dense that she had no shot. It explodes all over her, sending colorful frosting, doughy cake, and rainbow sprinkles all over the place, and easily shoving her barely 100-pound body flying through the air.

Lizzie leaves her feet and for a moment, she feels herself flying. For a split second, it feels freeing, until she feels gravity’s grip take over and feels herself falling.

The feeling doesn’t last very long; the next thing she feels is the sensation of cold cream smothering her bare ass; her thong didn’t provide any protection against the thick, sticky whipped cream in the Pie Slide pie. Her clean, bare back hits next, then her hair and her head, where she falls completely underneath the pie, which shoots cream in all directions as it receives her tiny body. More cream flies straight up in the air and lands right back down on her face, chest, and stomach, basically burying her in a grave of pie.

Beneath her butt, Lizzie feels all something extra gooey, along with solids; the blueberry pie filling that was in many of the pies used against her and her teammates also found its way into this giant pie, and her body fell so far through the cream that her entire back half got smothered in dark blue goo.

From her prone seat in the pie, Lizzie couldn’t hear the audience going bonkers, and with pie and cake all over her face, she couldn’t see them pointing and laughing at her either. Her white and blue-striped bikini top may still have been white and blue, but only due to an unholy swirl of colors from all the accumulated desserts she had been hit with.

Lizzie rolls over to try to get to her feet, only to find that the pie is deeper than she initially thought. Her rollover only causes her to sink deeper into it, smothering her entire front – and her face! – in even more blueberry cream muck. She finally finds her way to her knees, looking like a ghost. Her face is unrecognizable, her bare ass no longer quite as naked, her bikini completely and utterly destroyed.

A camera is waiting for her once she emerges, and it zooms straight in on her face, panning down her body to see the destruction that Maddie has caused. Maddie, for her part, is safe.

But Nicole is not! Marc has already made his way over to the Dunk Tank, where Nicole is seated a whopping two stories above the vat of green slime. She’s still visibly shaking, her breasts wobbling from inside her stained, too-tight sports bra. Marc is finally ready to put her out of her misery.

“Once again, audience, let’s hear that count!”

ONE! TWO! THREE!

Marc slams the dunk tank target hard, releasing the seat high above the tank and sending Nicole on her terrifying freefall. She screams all the way down, arms and legs flailing in all directions, searching desperately for something to grab onto, to save her. But no savior is forthcoming.

It took maybe 3 seconds tops, but after what felt like forever, Nicole’s body punctures the gloppy green slime, sending splashes of the stuff arcing through the air in all directions: toward Marc, toward the audience, even toward Lizzie just a few feet away, still looking humiliated at the bottom of the Pie Slide.

Much like Lizzie, Nicole’s screams are immediately silenced as her body hits the goo. She goes completely under, disappearing completely except for a slight figure seen through the window of the dunk tank. Desperately seeking equilibrium, Nicole’s feet find the window and kick off it, and after just a few seconds beneath the surface, she finally resurfaces, a slime monster in all green and gasping for air.

The slime is extremely sticky, meaning every square inch of her body – her brown hair, her pretty face, her runners’ body, her tight sports bra and shorts – were smothered in the cake batter mixture. Nicole licked her lips and both loved and hated the taste, the sweetness of it all.

Wanting to get out of her slimy prison as quickly as possible, she grabs hold of the small ladder leading out of the dunk tank bucket and finds her way to the stage floor, where, as with Lizzie, cameras immediately descend upon her, taking in one tight shot after another of her Nicole’s sexy, luscious body, completely covered in green. She rubs her hands down her body, from her shoulders, over her breasts, down to her hips, to remove as much slime as she can, and the cameras capture this too. Now, with green all over her except for her chest, her breasts are even more inviting, with remnants of slime and sundae all mixing together to create an unholy mess.

But Marc has made his way all the way to the other side of the stage to meet his final victim: muscular and well-dressed Bea – well, at least until her clothes were cut off her body, leaving her in nothing but her American flag tube top bikini.

Having never seen the show before, but seeing herself surrounded by nozzles, cakes, and buckets, and with her wrists and ankles restrained on top of that, Bea instinctively knew she had every reason to be afraid. As the honorary executioner, Marc all but confirmed her fears.

“Bea, last but not least, here you are, about to take four whole cakes to your face, covered in cream from these nozzles, and finally, a bucket of mystery mess dumped all over you from the heavens. Anything you’d like to say to your teammates, to the boys, to anybody at this point?”

“Please just let me out of here, you’ve done enough!”

“No, no,” Marc said. “I think there’s one more thing we have to do, right audience?”

An eruption of cheers.

“Well, you heard them! On the count of three, everybody, let’s say one last goodbye to Bea!”

ONE! TWO! THREE!

Expecting a cake to hit her first, Bea was caught by surprise as a nozzle beneath her mesh seat fired straight up into her rear end first. Her American flag bikini bottom offered almost no protection as a jet of cream blasted her bottom, leading her to arch her back as far as she could while still restrained, and emit an agonizing scream.

Much like the other girls, she was quickly shut up with the first of the four cakes, each of which was frosted with one word on it, reading “What Would You Do” from left to right.

“What” hit her square in the face first, a chocolate concoction with vanilla icing that turned her entire top half black and white. Her face took the brunt of the hit, but her curly hair wasn’t far behind, the weight of the icing blasting it backward before flattening her curls and allowing it to fall back and stick to the weightlifter’s strong shoulders.

Cake 2 (“Would”) didn’t get enough air on it, which ended up working out for the best, as it slammed right into her breasts, smothering the American flag tube top bikini, the sheer mass of the cake dragging it down slightly. Bea pathetically yells “nooo”, as she feels it start to slide down her body, but knowing that with her hands restrained, there’s nothing she can do to pull it back up. Cherry filling and frosting find its way inside the bikini, and also comes to rest on her toned, flat stomach. Only two cakes in, and she’s smothered from head to hip.

Cake 3 (“You”) blasts her hard in the face a second time, this one so hard that her head gets knocked back into the padded headrest behind her. The cake hit her so hard that the foamboard base it was on broke on impact, and the cake itself wrapped around her head, like a pillow that someone used to envelop her face. The red velvet cake showered her top half with cake bits, all while depositing a fresh layer of frosting onto her already heavy, coated hair, and adding another inch of frosting to the multi-car pileup that once was her pretty Puerto Rican face.

Cake 4 (“Do”) was another misfire, though the damage it did made it seem like hardly a misfire at all. This one once again smashed her right in the breasts, but the cake was so long that its blast zone reached all the way down to her crotch. Any part of her stomach, hips, or chest that wasn’t already treated to sugary frosting got a nice layer of vanilla cake to pile on. Bea shivered at the sensation of the cold on her stomach, and the feeling of cake slightly penetrating her bikini bottom and getting in between her legs.

Those shivers practically turned to convulsions as the Pie Wash portion of the Torture Machine got underway. More thick, heavy whipped cream sprayed onto Bea’s already caked up body from all directions from four different cream guns, at such velocity that cake bits started shooting off of her into oblivion, some of them even hitting nearby audience members. Any chocolate, cherries, and red velvet visible on her body were quickly papered over with a fresh coating of white cream as Bea spun around and around, fresh cream piling up on her face, hair, and body with each revolution. Twice she spun, three times, then four, until finally, mercifully, coming to a complete stop.

By now, Bea is completely stunned. She’d been hit – extremely hard, mind you – by four giant cakes, took an unexpected blast of cream to the butt, spun around several times while multiple cream guns fired more sweet cream straight at her body. A pile of cake and cream at least three inches high sat atop her head, with mess at least an inch thick covering most of the rest of her body, from her legs to her face. The cameras zoomed in on her face to find her wheezing, and a long dribble of cream falling out of her mouth and onto her totally destroyed bikini top.

Then one more unexpected humiliation, as a nozzle that Bea had not noticed fired even more cream from the heavens, straight down onto her crotch. It was another direct hit that sent the white stuff flying everywhere once again, so far that it even splattered her face for the umpteenth time. Bea wailed, unable to tell whether this was painful or orgasmic, but either way felt so humiliated that in her mind she was merely begging for it to stop.

The jet finally stopped, but only to give way to the final coronation: the Crowning Glory. As soon as Bea recovered her senses a bit, her heart rate started to come down, she heard a clank from somewhere above her, and barely had time to react before a deluge of blueberry pie filling came raining down on her head, sending the pile of creamy cake off the top of her head and demolishing her once more. The soupy blueberry sauce cascaded down her face, smothered her white-frosted hair, and flooded into her bikini. Bea’s feet and arms kicked around to the extent they could, demonstrating her agony and expressing through body language her pleas to make it stop. But all this wriggling did was send more heavy blueberry mess into her bikini, causing it to sag further and further until it finally gave way.

After having been smothered with pie and ice cream sundae ingredients in the main game, then bashed with multiple cakes, then shot with whipped cream, then slimed with heavy blueberry goo, it couldn’t hold on any longer, sliding down Bea’s chest to reveal her bare breasts, still pristine from having not been covered with mess.

OHHHH the crowd groans, just before breaking out into cheers. Not only did they see four girls get totally demolished with perhaps the most mess the show had ever used in a single game, one of them even lost her top! It was only a shame that stagehands locked all of the audience members’ phones away in the lobby before allowing them to enter the studio. They’d have to commit this carnage to memory.

As for Bea, her perky breasts and large nipples didn’t stay exposed for long. The deluge of blueberries continued, so while her ruined bikini top sat in her lap, her arms restrained and unable to pull it back up, the slime did the job for her. Any skin exposed by her top falling down got quickly covered up by dark blue syrup and berry chunks. Nevertheless, the cameras zoomed straight in on her exposed chest, making the most of this serendipitous opportunity.

At last, the girls’ ordeal was over, along with their hopes of VIP tickets, their clothes, and their egos. All four sorority sisters are left totally demolished by the show’s signature substances: Lizzie covered in pie and cake, Nicole and Maddie covered in slime, and Bea covered in all three. All of them got it bad, but it would be an open debate as to who got it the worst.

And the worst part is, the show’s showers were inoperable, the producers said. Likely because every previous victim on the show was covered in the same crap, and sent all kinds of sludge down the drain, the pipes were backed up and the studio had a huge plumbing problem. The girls would simply have to towel off, accept an apology and maybe some ill-fitting clothes, and be on their way, leaving them to either scrub the grime off their bodies in the saltwater of the ocean, at the totally open-air beach showers, which only were really intended to wash sand off feet, or just go to the festival as-is. Good luck getting shampoo that works in the ocean.

And so there the sorority sisters were, trudging out of the studio into the bright sunlight, the festival about to start, clothes in tatters, remnants of the messy horrors they endured still painted all over their bodies. Their car, where the holy grail of fresh clothes was located, was inside the perimeter of the festival, so they had to pass through security to get back in, creating one final humiliation: having to explain to security why they looked so ragged, and yes, we really are festival attendees.

That’s what this show has become, thanks to clips that have gone viral, week after week: a vehicle for contestants to find increasingly degrading things to do to each other, with a crowd that eggs them on for their own entertainment.

People will do anything for a prize. Marc couldn’t wait to see what the writers’ room came up with next.