FSE

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Sykes strode up to the marquee on the edge of the park, his stomach rumbling. The Chili Festival was the highlight of the year in this backwater town and he'd been looking forward to it all week.

He watched a queue of people stream into the tent; their interest undoubtedly piqued by the garish billboards that had popped up across the county over the last month. Promising the 'hottest chilis on Earth', they also advertised 'fun for all the family' as well as folk music and craft beer. There would even be an appearance from the local news anchors, who would undoubtedly feature the event in one of their fluffy 'and finally' pieces on the main evening news.

Sykes looked at his friend Marshaw, who was wearing a grin almost as goofy as his.

"Where would you like to go first?" he inquired as he fished out his wallet from his pants.

"Oh, I don't know," the bear responded. "Is there anything you particularly want to do?"

"Only the chili eating content at two," the white fox said.

Marshaw nodded. "Looking for revenge? You came so close last year."

"Exactly. I can't believe I lost to that damn wolf. No-one is going to beat me this year though. I've been practicing."

Marshaw chuckled. "I bet you have."

"Ten dollars please," the disinterested vixen behind the cashier desk said with a look that certainly didn't register the mood of the day.

"Don't worry, I'll pay for us both," Sykes said, handing over a twenty-dollar bill. "I'd like to sign up for the chili eating contest too - do you have the form?"

The vixen's ears perked as a smirk came to her lips. "Are you sure you can handle it, stud? The chilis this year are extra hot. We wouldn't want you going home crying to your mommy."

Sykes snorted. "Oh pur-leeze," he said. "I came second last year. I'm a chili-eating machine. Nothing is too hot for this fox."

"Is that so?" the vixen said, a devious glint in her eye. "Well, this year we have a special challenge where you can prove just that. Perhaps you'd like to enter."

She pushed the form towards Sykes, whose stare did not break from the vixen's. As he looked deeper into her auburn eyes, he felt a slight tightening in his sheath. He lost himself for a few seconds before breaking away from her gaze, hoping she couldn't smell his arousal.

"W... What's in it for me?" he inquired. "And what does this challenge entail?"

The vixen's smirk broke into a grin when she heard the final word but Sykes didn't make the connection.

"What's in it for you? How about this... I'll go on a date with you. Tonight, after the event, if you win. I can smell you want me and it's been so long since I last had a date..."

Sykes gulped, his ears flattening. He looked the vixen up and down before grabbing the form, signing it without digesting its contents.

The vixen smiled as he handed the form back to her. "Excellent," she said. "Head over to the stage area at one-thirty for a two o'clock start. The special challenge will take place afterwards. You'll be shown what to do. Have a wonderful day."

"And you'll be having a wonderful evening," Sykes countered as he walked off, failing to see the vixen roll her eyes behind him.

"Prick," she muttered.

***

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the chili eating contest will begin in five minutes. Please take your seats."

Sykes looked out over the arena, watching it slowly fill up. His stomach tightened; a sensation that lifted when he saw Marshaw on the front row. He nodded in his direction, with the bear giving a thumbs up in return.

The fox looked down at the table in front of him. There was a small bowl, a bottle of milk and some toilet paper. By his feet, there was a small garbage can which he kept kicking every time he moved his right foot. He glanced to his left, spying seven other competitors. Most of them were foxes, but there were a few bears and even a stoat. The wolf was there too. Sykes glared at him, but he didn't notice.

The hubbub of the crowd increased as the audience became thicker. Soon all of the chairs were occupied and there was standing room only around the back of the marquee. Sykes gulped but the announcer cut through his tension.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the tenth annual chili eating contest sponsored by Toilet Fresh cleaning products. We have eight plucky contestants here vying to win a year's supply of toiletries, kindly supplied by the good folks at Toilet Fresh. Let's go through the rules."

Skyes's eyes glazed over as the compere detailed what was required. As he was talking, he noticed a small green chili being dropped into the bowl in front of him.

"We will be using the Scoville scale to determine the hotness of our chilis. The contestants will be given the mildest chili first and will work their way up to the hottest. They must eat the entire chili, including the seeds and skin, but they can leave the stem. They have one minute to eat each chili, but can finish whatever they have put in their mouths provided it was placed there before the hooter sounds. Contestants can concede at any time, while vomiting leads to automatic disqualification. If you do need to vomit, try and use the bins provided - it was like the Trevi Fountain last year. The winner is the last player standing... or sitting, obviously."

The audience politely chuckled at the 'joke' as the announcer looked over to the contestants. "You participate in this contest at your own risk. You have all signed waivers to this effect. Do any of you have any questions?"

There was silence for a few seconds before he continued. "Good. Then let the contest begin!"

A bell rang and Sykes picked up the chili, which he instinctively recognised as a jalapeno. He bit into it, his mouth tingling with the heat, while the other contestants did the same. As he did, the compere announced its meagre Scoville rating before remarking, "For many of you, jalapenos are the hottest you can handle. For our contestants, it's merely the amuse bouche of today's six-course meal."

Sykes smiled as he finished the chili, tossing the stem nonchalantly into the trash can. He then sat up straight, staring out at the crowd of bemused onlookers, who were clearly yearning for spicier action. They were left wanting as everyone passed the jalapeno test.

No-one tapped out with the Serrano pepper, while the Tabasco pepper provided little challenge either. The crowd were clearly becoming bored by the lack of competition, so it was fortunate that the Scotch Bonnet started to separate the participants.

The stoat was the first to go, retching on the seeds as one had gotten stuck in her throat. She had tried to dislodge it with milk, but this had only induced hiccups, which caused her to spray liquid all over the table. This drew significant consternation from the compere but at least it allowed Toilet Fresh to showcase their all-purpose cleaning product.

One of the foxes tapped out after this round too, his tongue incandescent in agony. His screaming matched the rawness, the milk providing no antidote to his suffering. He had to dart behind the marquee and towards the portable toilets, which offered contorted agonies of their own.

The Ghost pepper followed, with three contestants falling for failing to eat enough of the chili in the allotted time. This left three competitors remaining - Sykes, the wolf from the previous year, and a red fox who seemed to be taking everything in her stride.

The Carolina Reaper was the final chili. As it was placed in the bowl, Sykes stared at it, as if trying to psyche it out. This was where he had fallen the year before, but he had been practicing, eating chili con carne and tacos for most of the last month. It had gotten so bad that his flatmate had had to move out three days ago. He could really do with winning those Toilet Fresh products.

He looked at the other competitors, the wolf catching his eye. He growled at his adversary; a growl that was reciprocated. The wolf then drew a paw across his throat in a slitting motion before the bell rang. They both then looked back at their bowls, picked up their peppers, and focused on the task in hand.

Sykes's tongue became inflamed as he bit into the soft flesh, his mouth screaming in agony as he continued to chew. He tipped the milk into his muzzle and kept biting, aiming to finish as quickly as possible in an attempt to push through the pain.

To his right, he heard heavy panting followed by the sound of vomiting, but he dared not look around in case of being distracted. He now knew he was down to the final two and kept staring straight ahead, focusing on his game. He looked at the crowd of disbelieving onlookers, wide-eyed at the contortions the competitors were going through, but still he kept eating as he was determined to win.

Once he had taken the final bite, he cast the stem aside before clenching his fists in triumph. The bell rang and he masticated furiously, hoping to drive the inflammation from his mouth as soon as he could. Once he had finished, he opened his muzzle widely to try and scoop in as much of the summer air as possible, hoping it would quell the conflagration in his maw.

He cast a glance to his right and noticed forlorn expressions. The fox had her muzzle buried deep in her paws, while the wolf had barely touched his dessert. A smile broke out across Sykes's face as he realised he had won.

"Congratulations to all our competitors, particularly Sykes who is the winner of today's event," the compere announced.

"Stick around for our special after show, where this fox will get to experience the whole delight of chilis. This will take place in fifteen minutes in the small tent out back. You won't want to miss it!"

The audience applauded while Sykes felt his stomach churn, wondering what he had let himself in for. He looked up nervously and spied the vixen at the entrance to the marquee, a wide grin spread across her face. For a second their eyes met and she blew him a kiss. Sykes smiled, but the somersaults in his belly only increased. He reached down and clamped his stomach, hoping what he had just eaten wouldn't reappear.

Suddenly, he felt himself being hauled to his feet as two pairs of hands gripped under his arms. He looked behind him, but his assailants were too far back, making identification impossible.

As the crowd started filing out, he was led out the back of the tent and towards a smaller marquee. Once he had entered, the first thing he noticed was a padded black chair set on a modest metal stage. He looked at it in perplexment, its shackles and straps looking quite foreign to him, as he wondered what kind of after show this was.

In front of the stage, there were wooden benches for around twenty spectators - far fewer than the capacity for the main event. As he was led over to the chair, his tummy churned like a cement mixer, making any resistance to his attackers impossible. If anything, seeing the scene had only made him more nauseous, but he knew he didn't want to find out what would happen if he started being ill.

Sykes was then violently turned around and pushed down hard on the seat. By the time he had realised what was happening, his wrists were tightly bound to it by metal cuffs. The same thing happened to his ankles, while two thick leather straps went over his stomach, squeezing it more tightly than he would have liked. Finally, a metal collar was placed over his neck, fixing his gaze above the crowd and towards the roof of the marquee. He struggled against the restraints, but he knew he was trapped, unable to find an inch of leverage. His sheath twitched as he groaned softly.

He waited for a while as the marquee started to fill up, the hubbub more familial than it had been before. His mind whirred; confused by his arousal combined with the horrors of the scene, but the more he thought about it, the harder his cock became.

"Now then Sykes. Welcome to the after party," the compere's familiar voice intoned.

"We were told you are quite the chili connoisseur and you certainly didn't disappoint. Congratulations once again on your magnificent victory in the eating contest. I hope you enjoy your Toilet Fresh cleaning products. After this, you may need them."

Sykes shifted in the chair, trying to get a better look at the host. The metal collar forbade it.

"You're probably wondering what all this is about. Well, you signed a deal with Ellel - that's her name by the way, not that you asked - consenting to a special challenge. She told me that you were so consumed by lust, you never even considered what it could be. Would you like to know now?"

"Y... Yes please," Sykes said as a red ball gag was roughly inserted into his muzzle. His eyes widened in panic before he accepted there was nothing he could do. His cock grew out of his sheath in response.

"You sampled six chilis earlier and we have the same six again now. However, instead of them going in your mouth, they're going to go up your butt."

Sykes winced into the gag as he spied an enema stand being wheeled next to the chair. He then felt a sharp tug on his pants, followed by a gentle breeze on his exposed pucker. Any arousal he had previously had suddenly dropped off.

"We're going to blitz each pepper one by one and then dilute them with water. We'll then place the mixture in the enema bag and turn on the tap. You will have two minutes to keep each mixture inside you. If you manage all six, you'll get a lifetime supply of Toilet Fresh cleaning products and, I believe, a date with the lovely vixen too.

"Now, it's time to let my glamorous assistant get you prepared."

Sykes flinched at the slight pressure on his pucker as a plug was slowly worked into his ass. He tried to tighten his ring to prevent its entry, but no resistance was forthcoming and the plug entered smoothly. Sykes then felt a feeling of fullness as it was slowly inflated. He groaned into the gag with each passing pump.

He looked back over at the host, pulling on the shackles as he did. He heard the plug being connected to the enema bag followed by the whirring of a blender somewhere in the distance. It churned his nerves as much as it churned the chilis; his stomach refusing to be becalmed after the six-course banquet he'd had. He then heard the sound of the bag being filled as he resigned himself to his fate.

"Ready?" the host said as Sykes whimpered. "Then let's go. This is jalapeno."

Sykes jumped as the feeling of heat splashed on his ring, moving deeper into his ass as the liquid progressed. He tried to fight the sensation, but the plug refused to budge, his sphincter hugging it tightly in feverish embrace. A tear formed in his eye as the evisceration continued, but the pain soon descended into an equilibrium which made it more bearable. This made the two minutes pass much more easily despite the flaring he was experiencing inside.

A bucket was then placed under his chair before the plug was deflated. Once the bell rang to signify time, it was yanked sharply from his tailhole. A flush of ruddy liquid followed quickly as Sykes groaned into the gag, relief flooding his body as much as the bucket. Five seconds later, he was just left with a slight tingle and a scarring memory, but he knew there were many scars yet to be cut.

"One down, five to go!" the compere said as the plug was restored into place and pumped straight back up. "This one is the Serrano. You had no problem with this before - let's see how you fare now."

Sykes prepared himself for another invasion; an invasion that came about ten seconds later. Again, he winced into his gag, but again the pain peaked before quelling after a short period of time. The process was repeated for the Serrano pepper too, with the Tabasco providing the first major challenge.

This was excoriating, ripping through Sykes's insides as tears of pain ran down his cheeks. He tried to look into the eyes of the crowd, desperate for their mercy, but the shackle around his neck prevented him from seeing them. He had no idea how many were watching as he felt the acid swirling up his tailhole, ravaging his insides like a forest fire in the summer.

His thoughts turned to Marshaw. Why wasn't he stopping this? Was he just sat there watching the torture of his friend? Was he even here? Tears of sadness started forming in his eyes, overlying the tears of pain from the merciless burn. Then the bell rang and those feelings were expelled, but the evisceration was starting to run ever deeper.

He sat on the chair sobbing, cursing the bravado with which he had entered the day. The sounds all around him became muffled in his ears as he descended deeper into his own self-pity. He screamed loudly into the gag, contorting his body to try and shake off the pain as his agony grew to the point of breakdown. And he knew there was still more to come.

"Does the foxy want some milk?" the compere patronised. "There's been no delivery today. I'm so sorry."

Sykes yanked at his binds but again they held firm as he cursed the name of his torturer.

"Two more to go, Sykes. Are you ready?"

The fox shook his head violently, pulling vigorously against the chains.

"Remember, a lifetime's supply of Toilet Fresh and a date with the vixen are on the line. If you quit now, you'll spend your evening wanking into your sock again. Plus, you won't have a clean toilet. Is that what you want?"

Sykes screamed as he felt the plug invade his tailhole once more, the feeling of lube now more like sandpaper on his pucker. One pump, two pumps, three; he felt the plug inflate before it was connected once more to the enema bag. Then there was silence for another ten seconds before the familiar burning invaded him once more.

He wailed into the gag as he tried to defeat the pain, but he knew he couldn't survive for another two minutes. Around twenty seconds in, he was thrashing in agony, before he heard voices in the distance. It took him a while to understand what they were saying, but soon he realised they were demanding clemency.

"Stop this now!"

"He's had enough."

It took him a few seconds to place the reassuring tone of his friend, but a couple more to process the second voice. Ellel? Surely not. She hadn't seemed that interested before, yet as the plug was removed and he was unstrapped from the chair, both Marshaw and the vixen honed into view.

He closed his eyes, relieved to have escaped from the nightmare. Tears streamed down his face, but whether they were from pain, relief, sorrow or happiness, he didn't know. At that moment, he didn't care.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Sykes," the compere announced to a smattering of applause as Marshaw gingerly picked him up from the seat. Before a punch could be thrown, he then guided him out of the back of the marquee, with Ellel following closely behind. Once seated outside, it took Sykes a few minutes to regain his composure, the tension building with each passing second.

"What the fuck was that?!" he demanded, glowering at Ellel.

"I'm... I'm sorry," the vixen said. "It was a silly idea we dreamt up a couple of years back. I never thought we would actually go through with it. Then you came along with all of your cockiness and it seemed like too good an opportunity."

Sykes kept glaring. Ellel folded into herself.

"I... I didn't think you'd actually agree to it. It was all there on the form," she continued, producing the piece of paper that Sykes had signed. "But then you did and so we did, but then I felt bad. Seeing you up there in agony, I just felt sorry for you. I don't want you to think I'm some kind of psychopath. It was just a silly idea that went too far."

Ellel moved her paw towards Sykes as she looked into his eyes, trying to soften his glare. The fox flinched at her touch before turning away, tears welling up once more. Silence persisted.

"Where do you even get a chair like that?" he eventually said. "How do you even dream this shit up?"

Before Ellel could respond, he sighed. "I just couldn't do it. It was all too much. But I really did want to go out with you."

He turned back to face the vixen, who smiled meekly in return. He felt a tingle in his groin as she reached out to touch his paw. Curse his arousal, he thought.

"There's no reason why we still couldn't. I know an excellent curry place just down the road."

Sykes shot daggers at her before chuckling softly.

"I think I've had enough spice for one day, but maybe. Let's see how I feel in a few days. I'm still really pissed off with you though so no guarantees."

Ellel nodded. "I understand. You have every right to be. And I'm truly sorry. If there's anything I can do..."

Sykes smiled. "Maybe you can tell me more about that chair. I couldn't take the chili, but the bondage was quite fun."

Ellel broke into a grin. "Sure. Maybe you're not bad at dealing with hot things after all."