National Pie Day
I said I was gonna do it, so I did it.
Enjoy this story, where anyone can insert themselves into it! We have a nameless protagonist with very few defined features...all that we know is that they have a muzzle, their wrists and ankles are tied to a chair, and someone, though we don't know who, is covering them in a wide variety of different sweet, messy things.
Blindfolds..dastardly things, aren't they? You'll never be able to see who captured you and put you into this predicament.
...Pie to the crotch.
As always, read, comment and enjoy!
You're unsure of just how you came to be in such a place, and worse, you have no idea where you are.
Your body is a little sore, and your muscles ache as though you've been through some kind of a terrible struggle. Your mind is hazy, and at first, you panic at the loss of your vision, but the feeling of delicate silk against the fur upon your cheeks soothes you; you're not blind, just blindfolded.
You can hear footsteps nearby as your body twitches to life. "I'm glad you're finally awake," a voice calls out to you. You're not entirely familiar with it, but you're still groggy from waking up in what could easily be a strange place, and you're chilled, as you feel your shirt has been stripped away.
You think to reach down to your legs to feel if there are any pants there, but your wrists are bound to the arms of a chair, and your ankles are tied to the legs of it. Pants wouldn't make sense in such a set up, and your assumption is proven true, as you feel a warm, creamy liquid pouring down your chest.
"We've heard all about you," the voice continues. You don't have a chance to ask any questions, and other than the obvious, you're not sure what to say. "We know what a terrible form of torture this is, for you."
Wishing that you could see, your eyes open against the blindfold, but you see only darkness. You can feel something warm and thick, yet, gooey spilling down over your body from above. Thanks to your lack of vision, the scent arrives at your nostrils just after the mess hits your body, and you pick up sweet notes of sugar and cocoa as what you assume to be chocolate syrup spills over your muzzle, neck and shoulders.
Unable to move, you squirm in your chair, bound to it, able only to feel every last bit of the sensation of fluids trickling down your chest and back. You want to squirm free and keep the mess from reaching a more private area, but no matter how you wiggle, the chair doesn't budge, and soon, you feel the warmth creeping over the curve of your backside, and down between your legs, right into your crotch.
"W-why...why are you- " you start to speak, but you're unable to continue, as the sound of cream spraying at your face crosses your ears, and immediately, your muzzle is stuffed with a copious helping of whipped topping. The sweet, decadent flavor sinks into your tongue and helps you to relax, to an extent, but before you can swallow the airy treat, more and more of it is piled on, as an entire can of the same is dispensed into your mouth.
You struggle to keep up and become nervous, but as the last of the melted chocolate pours over you and streams down over your thighs, you find that you have bigger problems to worry about. Your right ear flickers to the sound of something metallic, and given the theme, you have an inkling to what might be coming next.
WHAP! A thick, heavy pie, riddled with banana cream filling, lands against the bridge of your muzzle and breaks apart. The filling droops down over you as the tin falls away harmlessly, but before you can begin to lick the mess, you feel a second tin slap down against your crotch, and the paw behind it stays around, moving with devious force. You squirm helplessly and try not to moan as the pie is turned from side to side, and filling, cream and crust as mingled together in a frothy mess on your lap, leaving your most sacred area a complete, utter mess.
Confusion controls your mind as you wonder if you should enjoy the feeling of such a creamy treat mingling into your privates, or if you should panic about the fact that you're being made into a living dessert. The punishment seems to have ended, for now, but you feel a delicate, smooth pawtip stroking along the side of your ear as you remain blindfolded, and your ear perks to the touch, so sensitive that you can't help but gasp.
Their words are simple, and leave you eager for more: "Happy Pie Day."