It had been two weeks since my last encounter with Alyson. Summer had just begun, but the weather had already started to turn hot. I was hiding under a shady spot, feeling miserable and wondering what to do. I was two weeks away from heading to my new college, and all my friends were enjoying the last days of their childhood, as they liked to call it, away from home.

They asked me to join them, but I didn't have the money. I needed to save every penny if I was to survive the year. I was bored, but most of all, I was miserable about how things had ended with Alyson. Images of her being double penetrated, her ass and cunt being used like a human fleshlight by a group of clowns—yes, clowns—kept replaying in my head. The memory was driving me insane. It didn’t help that Alyson was not returning my messages or calls. She was probably on her way to her new life, as she had told me the last time we talked.

I decided to return home, taking the long route through the pier. Fortunately, I didn't have to worry about The Carnival since it had been dismantled a few days ago. The sky was clear, and the heat was radiating off the town's cement, making it seem hotter than it actually was. I aimlessly walked to where The Carnival had been, as I had done for the last few days. I stood where I thought the deed had happened. Where my childhood sweetheart had been gang-banged. Where she had given her body to strangers to be used as their plaything.

"He-he-he.” I heard someone laughing, but couldn't see another soul around me. Afraid that I was going mad, I continued on my way but heard the laugh again. I scrutinized my surroundings until I saw something out of place. Then, the sound of movement and footsteps sent me into motion. Without thinking, I dashed after the sound of feet scurrying away. I passed an alleyway and noticed a trash can rolling as if it had been pushed. After hesitating, I changed my course and went down the alley.

My steps echoed in the narrow space between buildings as I ran, trying to catch whatever was stalking me. I was desperate for some form of retribution or answers about what the hell had happened. The alley led me to a dead end. Two doors leading to each building were tightly locked, and nothing else decorated the scene apart from a few more trash cans. Whoever I was pursuing must have had a key and was probably long gone.

In a fit of anger, I kicked one of the trash cans, causing a manila envelope to fall to the ground. I picked it up and noticed my name scribbled on the side. It looked like it was written by a child or someone who didn't know how to write. My name's first 'e' was backward, and the handwriting was peculiar. As I weighed the envelope in my hand, I thought of what could be inside. It was filled with pictures, and given my luck, I had a sinking feeling I knew what they depicted.

Trembling, I pulled the photos out of the envelope and began to peruse them. There must have been around a hundred pictures inside. The initial ones were of me and Alyson strolling through the Carnival, having fun, and enjoying the attractions. Anyone who saw these pictures would undoubtedly describe us as a couple. One of the photos shattered my heart. It was a perfectly framed picture of both of us; I was pointing at something in the distance while she was gazing at me with loving eyes and a sweet smile. But when I turned to the following picture, I almost collapsed.

In this image, Alyson was in a similar position to the last, except this time, she wasn't looking at me but at someone else. One of the clowns from the maze had his face close to hers in this shot, pointing the camera to capture a selfie of them both. The background had changed; they were inside the maze, given the low light and the yellow walls in the background. The clown had his arm around her in a possessive gesture.

I considered tossing the pictures and fleeing for a moment, but I found myself rooted to the spot. I needed to see the rest, even if they would unravel me. Taking a deep breath, I turned to the next one, which sent a chill down my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Alyson kissed the clown passionately as he took the selfie, her mouth open and eyes closed in acceptance. His hand gripped her by the neck, holding her in place as he returned her fervor.

The following image was captured from a different perspective, presumably by another camera. I could see the same clown holding his phone in his hand while he deeply kissed Alyson. From this new angle, I could see Alyson's hand reaching for his crotch, which was prominently tented inside his pants.

My hands trembled as I turned to the next picture captured by that phone. Alyson was on her knees, pleasuring the clown in the classic blowjob position. I couldn't gauge the time between the pictures, but she must have been at it for a while because she appeared flushed in the photo, with tears of exertion streaking her face. Her sweater had ridden up slightly, revealing a glimpse of her white panties peeking out from her jeans. Knowing how this scenario concluded, I could infer she was reveling in it. The subsequent picture confirmed my suspicions.

Alyson was still servicing the clown's hefty cock, but had progressed from merely sucking the tip to accommodating his entire length. The image was a closeup of her face, pressed firmly against his crotch, her nose buried in his pubes that appeared to be dyed purple. A dribble of saliva was escaping from the corners of her mouth, and her eyes had rolled back into her head, displaying an expression of absolute ecstasy. I stared at that picture for an extended period, unable to prevent my body's reaction.

I shook my head and continued. The subsequent images included Alyson removing her Converse shoes, jeans, and panties. She looked so incongruous, standing atop a filthy mattress that had appeared between shots, undressing in a way intended to entice the clowns surrounding her. In one of the photos, you could see her removing her pants with her back to them, bending over to provide a perfect view of her pale buttocks enveloped by the fabric of her panties. In the next one, she had already removed them and was spreading her butt cheeks with her hands, presenting herself to her audience while biting her lip in anticipation of what was to come. I had to adjust my trousers because my cock had become extremely hard. In the following image, one of the clowns entered the frame and began to lift her sweater.

He was so captivated by her breasts that he didn't entirely remove it, instead lifting it just enough to grab hold of her perky tits, causing Alyson to squeal. Her eyes were closed, her face a picture of pure ecstasy, as this stranger fondled her breasts. He stood behind her, leaning forward due to his height advantage. One of his large hands was cupping a breast while the other reached for her sex. Meanwhile, Alyson had an arm reaching behind her, likely in search of his cock.

In the next image, a new clown appeared, already completely naked, brandishing one of their characteristic, flamboyant cocks. From his build and the small patches of unpainted skin visible, he was black but had painted his dick silver. It resembled a police baton wrapped in aluminum foil. Alyson wore an expression of awe as she gazed at his cock, extending her other hand to grasp it. Her expression mirrored that of a child who'd just been told there was one more present under the Christmas tree.

I began to flip through the pictures more quickly, eager to finish but unable to tear myself away from each image. My initial count was way off; there appeared to be far more than a hundred photos. As I switched from one to the other, the images began playing like a movie. In it, I watched as Alyson was gently guided down, crouching on the mattress with her legs spread wide, her labia parting to reveal the pink flesh within. She used the two hefty cocks for balance, opening her mouth to take them in.

Images of Alyson deep-throating each cock, in turn, filled the frames, her expression growing increasingly lustful with each shot. They were making a mess of her, smearing her flawless skin with body paint, saliva, and cum. Indeed, one of the clowns had succumbed to her ministrations and had ejaculated all over her face. She was captured in one photo with her head tilted back, her mouth open, and her tongue out, adorned with thick strands of cum across her forehead, cheeks, and eye. In the subsequent frame, she looked down, her hand near her mouth, assuming the universal posture of someone struggling to swallow something.

Regardless, in the following picture, she was radiant again, grinning broadly at them, inviting them to return for more. And they were more than willing to comply.

The next image was a graphic shot of Alyson taking a cock in her pussy. The clown had her in a full-nelson chokehold, wrapping her legs with his arms, his hands clasped behind her neck. The camera captured her from the front, making it impossible to miss the clown's cock disappearing into her stretched, reddened, and throbbing pussy. Her tits were being pressed together, making them appear more prominent than usual. Alyson was biting her lip as the cock split her open. Her body quivered in the clown's grip. His colorfully painted dick was a stark contrast against Alyson's pale, creamy skin.

All these photos were taken before I got there. What followed was a series of images of Alyson being fucked in various positions, always by differently colored cocks. I knew she had been getting fucked for some time, but I hadn't realized it had been by so many. The knowledge that I had left her with that many men made me feel nauseous. Yet, my cock was so hard I couldn't resist touching it. I looked down at my hand in shame, realizing I was pleasuring myself to my friend's gang bang. I couldn't bear it any longer.

When I came to the final photo, where Alyson was in the same position I had found her—being spit-roasted on all fours by two monstrous clown cocks—I started rubbing my cock over my pants. It didn't take long for my touch to bring me to the brink, causing me to climax and explode inside my pants.

I slumped back against the wall and began to weep from a deep sense of loss and shame. I couldn't hold back the tears. I felt an overwhelming emptiness inside. After some time, I gathered my thoughts and rose to my feet.

There were two more photos left in the pile. The first was another shot of Alyson being fucked, but this time it wasn't at the Carnival. She was in someone's room, on a bed with white sheets. The photo was taken up close to her face but from a lower angle, providing a view of a muscular guy fucking her from behind while she deep-throated another cock. Alyson had her eyes closed and was clearly relishing the moment.

I noticed an arrow in a corner, so I flipped the photo over to see if there was anything else. Someone had scrawled a message in the same terrible handwriting as before. It read: "She does return our messages! Ha ha ha!" I turned the photo back over and stared at it.

I was in disbelief that the photo I had just seen was taken after the Carnival. She was allowing strangers to use her. Despite everything she had endured, she was still willing to submit to their cocks. It shattered my heart and stirred such a rage within me that I lashed out, punching the wall.

Before exiting the alley, I glanced at the final photo and froze. My hands started shaking. "What the fuck?" I exclaimed aloud.

It was a photo of my house, where I live alone with my mother. It was taken from outside. My mom was visible inside, doing the dishes. Someone had circled the window where she could be seen and had ominously written 'Next?' beneath it.

I hastily shoved everything back into the envelope and sprinted towards my house, praying that I wasn't too late this time.

***

It had been a long time since I ran so fast in my life that I felt like a character in a bad comic. I reached my home and stopped in my tracks. The garage door was open. I felt so small and afraid as I stood there. I felt my life was falling apart, and I didn't know what to do. I slowly stepped to the front of my house and heard sounds from within. It was laughter. Maniacal laughter. My heart sank, but I knew what to do, so I went inside.

The first floor was clear, and the sounds I heard from outside had subsided. I moved through the house, calling for my mom as I made my way. No one answered.

"Mom?" I called again, "Is there anyone here?" I added. Still, I wasn't expecting anyone to answer, but my heart ached. I didn't know what to do if something happened to her. I stood still, trying to catch some movement or sound. My head jerked to the stairs after hearing the tiniest thump from above.

"Mom?" I asked in a lower tone and moved toward the stairs, "Is that you?"

I started climbing up the steps as carefully as I could. The thump resumed, and a bed creak joined in. "Oh, no," I gasped under my breath. "Mom!" I yelled and started running towards her bedroom, not caring if someone was still inside. I stopped in front of her room. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear the unmistakable sounds of people fucking coming from the room. As I was going to open the door, someone grabbed me from behind and placed a rag over my mouth, making me breathe something that smelled foul. I struggled to escape his iron grip, but it was impossible. Worst of all, my awareness began to drift away as I fell into unconsciousness.

When I regained consciousness, I couldn't open my eyes. A bag was covering my face, and my hands and legs were tied to a chair. I felt like I was inside the broom closet at home, given that it was cramped and smelled of cleaning products. I couldn't move or shout, given the cloth they had shoved in my mouth and tied at the back of my neck. Trying to get my bearings, I stopped my struggles and heard the distinct sound of static an old TV makes when it's on. And faintly, the same sounds propelled me into my mother's room.

I started to shake my head more violently, trying to remove the loose bag from my face. After several tries, I managed to do it. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I found a small camera monitor mounted in front of me. It was a color monitor with a meager resolution. Still, I didn't need any more clarity to see what was being displayed on it.

My mom was lying on the bed with her limbs spread wide. Her arms and legs were tied down to the legs of her bed. She was completely naked and had a large, red ball gag in her mouth that forced her to keep her lips parted. A blindfold was placed on her eyes, and she was moaning widely as a mother-fucking clown fucked her in the pussy.

I couldn't help myself realizing that my mom looked hot, tied down like that. I could see the C-section under her stomach where I had come out from, but it didn't take away any of the beauty she carried. She had a slim figure and firm boobs. Given her age, they looked pretty good, even in that unflattering position. The only thing out of place was her auburn hair. Instead of being loose, as she usually wore it, it was delicately coiled into an ornate bun that sat atop her head like a crown. Wisps of auburn hair had escaped, creating a halo around her face even in the surrounding chaos. The video feed was not very good, but I was pretty sure she had makeup on, accentuating her features. I could not remember if she mentioned anything requiring her dressing up like that.

"Mmm!! Mmm!" she moaned as the clown hammered his massive dick in and out of her. I tried to break the ties around my hands to no avail; I could not free myself. My legs and arms were tensed so hard I thought I was going to dislocate something. I watched my mom struggle on the bed, squirming around, trying to break free as she moaned with each thrust.

At first, I thought my mom was doing it against her will, but I immediately realized I was wrong. After looking more closely, I realized that her squirming was not attempts at getting him off her—she was cumming. Hard. My mouth grew dry at the realization, and denial invaded my brain. 'Surely, she's not enjoying this. Her body must be betraying her right now. That's it,' I thought.

My hopes were crushed when I saw another clown enter the frame. Also naked and painted just like before. He came close to my mom's face and tenderly caressed her cheek. Instead of recoiling, my mom leaned into his touch. The clown then unstrapped the ball...