Jesse is naked and struggling, physically and mentally, as this monstrous clown woman is dragging him into a circus tent that is almost certainly not a circus tent. Jesse summons his last strength and will and wrenches himself free of the clown's grasp. He knows she is strong enough that she could drag him inside anyway, but for now she lets him go.
The clown watches him stagger away. She's grinning when he turns around to face her. She blows him a kiss and caresses her belly again, and Jesse is so entranced he even walks back towards her, even as his whole mind screams at him to stop and run away. The clown embraces him, and he embraces her in return.
"You're strong," she whispers into his ear, her rubbery hands and sharp talons tracing faint scratches on his back and butt. Jesse trembles and closes his eyes. He feels one of her fingers under his chin, tilting his head up, forcing him to look at her face. Her smile is broad, wide, wider than any human's could ever be. Her blue tongue lolls out, dripping saliva that stings just a little bit as it touches his skin. He hears and feels a rumbling in her stomach, but he can't get himself to let go of her. She licks his face and it itches. "And you taste so good, too. I think you'll make an excellent ..."
"W-wait," Jesse says, trembling.
The clown looks at him, equal parts confused and delighted that he could still resist her. "Wait for what?" she says.
"I ... um ... before the ... show," Jesse stammers. "Before the show, I'd like to ... try some of the food."
The clown considers his words. She seems conflicted, but she nods and releases him. "Sounds like a plan!" she says. "But don't miss the next show, or I'm gonna have to come getcha. And maybe your auntie too, she sounds fun."
Jesse is just starting to put his overalls back on when he hears that last part. He looks up to ask how the clown could know about his aunt, but she is already gone. Worse, he also doesn't know when "the next show" is due to start. He looks around for the exit, but he can't see it. It's still the early afternoon, but the fairgrounds look dark and sinister, and all Jesse can see is a twisting maze of tents and stalls. Something is messing with his perception. He can hear music and laughter, but can't see any people just yet, only the faint presence of more clowns, lurking. The only clear way forward, other than into the definitely-not-a-tent, is towards the food stands he saw earlier.
He gives up trying to fasten the second strap to his overalls and walks in that general direction, hoping his clothes don't up and fall off again and wishing he'd never taken off his shirt and underwear while doing his chores.
He passes by the "Savory Cotton Candy" booth he saw before. The aroma is overpowering; he practically gets a contact high just from being near it. The stall is empty. A crudely hand-written sign tacked to the front promises someone will be "BAK N 5 MINS." Jesse isn't sure he wants to wait that long.
The "Deep Fried Everything" stall is occupied. He sees a singularly obese clown woman there, still luring him in with her finger. Her presence isn't as strong as the tent clown's, but Jesse is disoriented and exhausted and just nods and obeys. He's getting disturbed at how easy it's becoming for him to surrender his body to these clown's otherworldly presence and unspoken commands.
Up close, the clown at this food stand is massively tall and almost spherical. She is close to seven feet tall and looks like she weighs nearly 700 pounds. The only things Jesse can see that she's wearing are an apron and a chef's hat, both of which have seen better days. Her skin is just as thick, blotchy, white, and rubbery as the tent clown's. Her makeup is just as caked on, but has a green tint to it. His eyes are drawn to her mouth. Her mouth is huge, impossibly wide, a gargantuan curved smile stretching from {past/i} her ears to cross her entire face, but she's painted (if it is paint ...) the tiniest, daintiest little lipstick right in the middle under her bulbous nose.
Letting his feet take his body wherever she compels him, Jesse approaches the food stand. He can hear several deep fryers sizzling, either cooking things or keeping their oil burning hot to be ready at a moment's notice. The clown moves closer, lifts up her belly and plops it down on the counter, and smiles down at Jesse. Her voice is soft and melodic when she finally speaks.
"Welcome, welcome!" she says, steepling her fingers and tapping them together with anticipation. Her accent is impossible to place. "My name is Crispy, pleased to meet you. Would you like something fried? We can fry anything."
Jesse's hands are on the counter. He feels the clown--Crispy--release him just enough to speak, but he can't bring himself to lift his hands or move away. In fact, even thinking about trying to walk away only compels him to raise his body up onto the counter itself, perilously close to Crispy and her many fryers.
"I, um, I'm not sure," Jesse admits. He sniffs the air, of his own free will. The scent of oil and fat and food and frying mix is overpowering, and he realizes just how hungry he is. "I don't really have any money," he says. "Or tickets? I'm not sure how I'm supposed to pay for things here. There was nobody at the entrance when I got in."
Crispy pats Jesse's head, strokes his cheek. She chuckles and distressingly deep chuckle. "Well, don't you worry about that, Jesse," she says, pausing just long enough to let Jesse realize she somehow already knows his name. "Your first order is free. After that, you can either earn some tokens at a game or in the eating contest, or we can work something else out."
Crispy undoes Jesse's overalls--this is getting annoying, he thinks--and completely undresses him without bothering to ask for permission. Jesse knows she could compel him to grant it anyway. "Oh, yes, we can definitely work something out," she says. She flips Jesse onto his back and kneads and massages every square inch of his body. Jesse has to admit, free of her influence, that it feels incredibly good. She tells him to wait there, and he obeys and watches as she brings over an enormous bowl of batter, a dozen eggs, a jar of seasoning, and a whisk and basting brush.
"I can fry you something right away, Jesse, if you'd like that," Crispy says. "Or I could fry you right away. Don't worry, it's not fatal, not yet, we won't let you get out of here that easily. Or, if you'd like to get some tokens, you could try the contest right over there and come back to me and I won't have to fry you up right away."
Crispy doesn't wait for Jesse to answer before she starts basting Jesse with the batter and egg wash. He can feel her presence compelling him to keep quiet, to let her ... what, cook him? Fry him? Alive? He forces himself to yell, to scream, to say anything.
"Um, wait!" he says. "I don't want to, um, put you out or anything." Crispy is still basting him, but doesn't stop him from speaking.
"It's no bother at all," she says. She turns up the heat to a fryer right below Jesse's spot on the counter.
"No, really," he protests. "Let me go get some tokens, or at least check out the, um, the eating contest over that way. Maybe I'll win something and be able to pay you."
Crispy sighs, turns the fryer back down, and puts away the basting brush.
"Oh, fine," she relents. "It's only fair. Go give the show a look and see if you want to compete. If you do, then have fun and come see me again. But if you don't, come see me again anyway so I can deep fry you. I promise you'll live through it, and it's an experience you'll neve forget."
Jesse thanks her and scurries over to the eating contest to check it out. Two enormous clowns, each slightly bigger even than Crispy, sit by themselves at a picnic table, smiling and waving at him and an empty set of bleachers. They are wearing bibs with people's faces on them, and a pair of bikini tops that hurt to look at for too long, and nothing else.
"Hi there, sugar!" the clown on the left says.
"I love your outfit," says the clown on the right.
Jesse realizes he's still naked, but his overalls are already gone into the recesses of Crispy's booth. He decides he may as well be embarrassed and get on with it. He waves and says hello. "So, um, what's this contest?" he asks.
"It's an eating contest!" says the clown on the left.
"Best you'll ever see!" says the clown on the right.
"Or, it would be, but only if ..."
"If only we had ourselves a volunteer!"
"A ... volunteer?" Jesse asks.
"Yes," says the left clown. "We can't do an eating contest with just the two of us."
"It's impossible!" says the right clown.
"But nobody in the audience is stepping forward, it's such a shame."
"That is ... unless you'd be interested?"
"Oh, yes, you could be our volunteer!"
"It's a one-of-a-kind experience!"
"And since you'd be the third person and the only volunteer, you're guaranteed to get some tokens."
"Guaranteed!"
Jesse hasn't missed that they're saying volunteer, not contestant. But he also looks back at Crispy's stand, and then at the empty cotton candy stand, and then at the gaping maw of the circus tent. He has a feeling he will get to make exactly one more choice before one of these clowns takes that choice away from him. In the end, he decides ...
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