A Day of Clowning 3
Story by TikTikKobold on SoFurry
It's a normal morning for an Anteronian businessman, but something Zany this thing comes.
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“Welcome to Baker's Bakery. What can I get for you today?" The peppy and cheery young woman says with her brightest customer service smile.
The man pushes his glasses up on his nose and sighs. “Just a coffee. Two sugars. Two creams. And a cardamon roll."
“Coming right up!" The girl giggles, leaving the customer to turn to his newspaper in peace. He heads outside and sits down at one of the open benches, leafing through the front page news, snorting at the articles upon articles about the carnival. “Such a waste of time," he grumbles to himself.
“Don't like the carnival?" asks the server, approaching with his order.
“No, I do not," he replies, graciously taking his meal. “It's disrupting business in town, and it's an eye-and-earsore. How can you stand that constant droning music?"
She shrugs. “I dunno. I guess I just kinda get used to it after a while.
He snorts, pulling out a watch. “Damn it all. I'm late." He stuffs his newspaper under his arm, taking his treats. He steps toward the park but stops, frowning.
“You'll have to go through the carnival if you're planning on cutting through the park," the waitress says.
“How observant," says the businessman. “But if I must, I must, even if it is annoying."
He huffs and marches through the park, a place of incredible statuary and topiary art. He is busier with foot traffic than usual, as many tourists and introverts seek their time at the festivities.
As people joke, laugh, and snack on fattening foods, the businessman turns his attention down a less-traveled and wooded path. Perhaps there, he can find some peace.
Only the occasional runner makes their way through the tree-tunneled footpath. And though it may be a longer walk, it is undoubtedly a faster route than maneuvering around the park and the carnival grounds. Still, the droning calliope music continues, threatening him with a so-called good time, louder and louder the closer he makes it.
“Honk."
The stern man stops, blinks, and looks around. That sound, whatever it was, is certainly close by.
“Hello?"
Silence.
He snorts and continues his walk, sipping his coffee. It's never as good when the B-Team is working shifts. Baker must be at the carnival because they'd hire the only competent patissier in town.
“Honk, Honk."
It's much closer now. He spins around, only to see a garish figure standing before him. It's a woman, but whether she is mortal or some kind of horrific creature, he cannot know. Her skin is chalk white with bright red and blue highlights around the lips and eyes. Her chest is like two enormous balloons, rising up high with no seeming regard for gravity against a tight striped shirt that only covers the upper half of her torso, if that. Upon her head is a pointed hat, and her hair is like someone dumped cotton candy onto her and she neglected to clean up. Her skirt is ridiculously short, her socks go up to her thighs, showing off more of that milky skin between the skirt and the socks, and her shoes are apparently much too big for her. And to top it off, that bright red nose of hers nearly pokes his own nose as she leans close to him.
He jumps, but he soon composes himself, wiping the slight spillage from the edge of the lid of his coffee. “Oh, you must be from that ridiculous carnival. If you're here to advertise it to me, please bother someone else about it. I have work to get to. Now, please, stop squeezing your nose and let me be."
He resumes his journey toward that infernal carnival, only for the clown girl to step out from a nearby tree, hands behind her back, bouncing on her toes, her tits shaking much more than seems possible.
The businessman spins around. She's not there. He turns to look back to the front. Again, she's gone. And then he returns to look to the back, and she's standing where she once was only a few seconds ago.
“Gah!"
He drops his drink, spilling it all over the footpath.
“Now, see here!" he yells, reaching for her. “You'll pay for that, you hooligan, ah!"
While trying to apprehend the clown, he instead gets a full-on grip on her left tit, squeezing the soft thing with a too-strong grope!
“HONK."
“O… oh…"
She flutters her eyes, her smile unchanging.
“Now… that's, uh… different."
She giggles but shoves him, knocking him down and landing on his butt.
“Gah! I have half a mind to report you to the authorities! This is a crime. It's assasu… ass…"
She spins, bending over, her skirt riding up, revealing all-too-tight polka-dotted panties. She has her hands on her knees, looking over her shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
With another grope of her tit, she honks.
“Of course, you're kidding. You're a clown," he grumbles.
She pulls her skirt up, smacking her butt.
“You serious?"
She rolls her eyes.
He smirks. “Well, fuck me, then," he sighs, reaching down for his belt and undoing it. “My day is already ruined. Why not? I am in Anteronia, the city of sin?"
She closes her eyes, nodding quickly, rubbing her cheek and squeezing her tit, hoking over and over and over again.
“Alright, little miss clown," he says, “I'm game. Let's begin."