The Fat Clown (Patreon)

Confused. Concerned. A little scared perhaps. These were only a few of the emotions that plagued many minds upon their discovery of a strange clown in their home. She seemed so casual about it. So aloof. Was it that she was unaware of how bizarre her actions were? Or was it that she knew she could get away it...It was hard to say. Her thoughts on the matter were as nonchalant as the clown, herself. At the very least, the only danger she seemed to pose was to your pantry. All that remained were canned vegetables, beans, and anything that seemed even remotely healthy. Her tastes were clear, especially after she suggested that you order food to compensate for your painfully empty kitchen. You wouldn’t be the first to find yourself mysteriously compelled to comply the clown’s suggestions, her sultry voice, mannerisms, and thinly-veiled threats carrying a surprising degree of clout.

Over a concerning amount of pizza, the two of you form something resembling a bond, her close proximity and overly handsy nature helping the matter greatly. You couldn’t help but feel a little alarmed at the way she applauded the villians in the scary movies the two of you watched, but you also took note of how much it excited her, an excitement that only grew as the night went on. It was easy to get swept up by it. Easy for you to forget your inhibitions. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the constant groping. Whatever it was, you welcomed it, embraced it, and it embraced you. It held you in its grasp, caressed you, squeezed you, among other things that you dare not mention.

As you lay in a pool of your own sweat and shame, you continue to wonder what it was, but as it firmly grasps you yet again that night, you fear you’ll never find out.

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A common not with the clown.