Clown Dictator

Eventually, I can't hold back anymore and I explode with a loud moan, a veritable flood coming from my vagina as I experience an unmatched level of pleasure. The orgasm lasts for an eternity, my vision blurring and my body shaking.

Just when I think my pleasure can't spike any higher, Zombozo stands up and slides his dick into me, slowly thrusting in and out. Already woozy from being eaten out, I can't help but give in to the clown fucking me. Being defiled by him feels so good that I stop questioning it and give in.

When Zombozo leans in to kiss me as we fuck, I eagerly kiss him back, letting his tongue violate my throat. With his hands gripping against my breast, his tongue in my throat, and his dick fucking me, I feel an unmatched level of ecstacy.

In my head, I try to focus on what Zombozo has done to me and the world, but all of that starts to slip away. All I can think about is him and how good I feel. I don't want to stop feeling like this, and Zombozo makes me feel like this. I'm pulled out of my thoughts when I hear Zombozo whisper in my ear: "You want more don't you, Riley? Give in. You want to"

With the last remnant of my sanity fading, I simply nod. In that moment, all else becomes meaningless, I am Zombozo's. I can't resist and I don't want to. I am his. He is joy and happiness. I ought to obey him. I ought to worship his perfection. He is a god and I am nothing. Submission simply feels right. My eyes are opened to the paradise we live in and I can't help but smile.

Part 3: Alison

I was just nine when the clowns came, but by some miracle I ended up escaping with the rebels. My parents never made it though, so I was basically raised by the rebels on the various hiding spots we moved between.

As I got older, I participated in the efforts, from rescuing people trapped in the camps to finding out anything that could be used to fight back. Sadly, things did not go perfect. Rescues were always flawless, but it was virtually impossible to fight the clowns and slowly but surely, all other rebel groups went silent.

We lost a lot of men, which forced me, at only 28, to lead our dwindling numbers. What was worse was when Riley didn't come back. It was supposed to be a simple rescue, the one thing we could do effortlessly, but it became quickly apparent she wouldn't return on schedule.

Her absence terrified me because she was good at her job, but the clowns were good at theirs. If Zombozo captured her he could hurt her, enslave her, and control her, and with the amount of knowledge she had, we would be finished.

With that thought buzzing through everyone's head, we quickly prepared to ditch our current location and set out for a new base that Riley wouldn't know about. It meant leaving her behind if she was out there, but it was a sacrifice we had to take.

Sadly, right as we were about to leave, footsteps echoed from the entrance of the cave we were camped at. I rushed to see who was there, elated to see Riley was standing in front of me with a smile on her face.

My smile fell when I realized that behind Riley and her dazed smile, was a massive troop of clowns. Zombozo had gotten to her and now it was all over. Some tried to fight. Some tried to run. But none of us could stop them.

The clowns flooded our base, subjugating us with a combination of mental force and physical restraint. I watched in horror as my friends were raped, gagged, and knocked unconcious. I tried to do something to stop what was happening but I was almost immediately knocked out by a blunt hit to my neck.

When I awoke, I was in a small, enclosed prison cell with concrete walls, a small bed, a bench, and one locked, metal door. There was a small barred window with dark orange light pouring out of it, but the slits were barely big enough for my hands to fit through. The most notable feature of the room was a painting of Zombozo with a massive, creepy grin covering almost the entire wall and illuminated by the golden light pouring through.

My first thought was to look around for any means of escape. The window slits were too small and the door was locked tight. My clothes were still on but everything else I had on me was removed, meaning I didn't have anything that could help me. I tried scraping at the walls, but it seemed clear that there was no way out of my cage, so I flopped down on the bed and prepared for the worst.

Three days into my imprisonment and nothing of note had happened. Twice a day, every day, a slit would open at the bottom of the door and a meal, consisting of just bread and chicken, would be slid in. Most of the day I just sat and wallowed in my failure. Because I didn't act fast enough, we are all going to die or be enslaved, and any remaining hope for humanity is probably gone. Solitary confinement was awful, but on the fourth day, something worse began.

"All hail Zombozo. We exist to obey the Clown God. Zombozo is my master. Obedience is paradise. I exist to obey. All Hail Zombozo." I wasn't sure from where the sound was coming, but what mattered was that it wouldn't stop. The voice kept going, replaying the same loop over and over without rest. Sleeping became difficult with its unending blaring and it started to drive me a little crazy. Between the complete isolation and the constant noise, I was losing my grip. For days all I could do was sit, stare at the painting of Zombozo, and listen to the incessant commands.

Soon after the voice began, I started getting pamphlets slipped in with my food. They were a horrifying mix of propaganda and news, with titles ranging from "The Joys of Work" and "Zombozo: a Benevolent God." At first I tried to resist reading such blatant propaganda, but eventually the boredom took hold and I started to leaf through them. Unsurprisingly, the pamphlets were nothing but nonsense glorifying an oppressive dictatorship and justifying atrocities, but reading (and insulting) them was the only activity I had in my cell.

Some of the pamphlets seemed to claim that Zombozo was trying to eliminate all societal ills, ranging from poverty, crime, war, and even sadness itself. What nonsense. Eliminating sadness is completely impossible, especially for someone as evil as Zombozo. Even though the propaganda was filled with disgusting rhetoric, it became hard not to think about Zombozo between the speakers, painting, and books.

Eventually, I was distracted from my readings by an eerie realization. The speakers had stopped. For the first time in who knows how long, there was silence. Sadly, my little heaven was interrupted by the creaking of the steel door. Before I could even react to the door opening for the first time since my imprisonment, I felt my body freeze in an upright position on the bed. I looked over to see a clown walking through the door and felt an enormous rush of energy emanating from him. I knew instantly that Zombozo himself was walking into my cell.

I watched with anger and disgust as he closed the door and sat down on the bench in front of me, with an arrogant smirk on his face. "Hello Alison. How has your stay been so far?"

I didn't want to dignify him with a response, but I couldn't hold back my anger. "Don't talk to me you are some gracious fucking host. You're a monster! I doubt you really believe that nonsense you've been preaching in your propaganda, but know that you have created infinitely more evil in the world than humanity ever thought possible!"

"I'm glad to see you've been reading Alison, but I'm saddened you didn't pay a little more attention. You're free to view me as some monster, but know that the world is far better off with clowns in it, then without. Obedience is the greatest joy of life. Ask any one of the children who have grown up learning a more enlightened way of life. Or look to the clown slaves. Sadness is an emotion they cannot comprehend. Happiness is eternal. Life doesn't need to be dragged down by humanity. You say I'm the monster, but from my perspective, you are the one resisting a new, better world order."

"Cut the crap! Stop acting like some just savior. You're nothing more than a greedy, power-hungry dictator. The 'happiness' the clown slaves experience is at the cost of all individualism and emotions. It's not really living! And humans are starving and languishing in your camps. There is no freedom or joy. You bring nothing but suffering. You are pure evil!"

"Open your eyes past the limits of human feeling, Alison. The 'emotion' you tout is a flaw. Freedom is a myth. You are all prisoners of your own minds. Your lives are spent circling through an endless cycle of pain and suffering. The clowns are a blessing. Notice that since our arrival there hasn't been a single incident of murder. Not a single robbery has occurred and starvation has been dropping exponentially. To prove to you how much better life under the clowns can be, let me just show you what its like inside the mind of a clown slave."

Before I can react, Zombozo snaps his fingers and my vision fades to black. All of a sudden, I am filled with a feeling of pure ecstasy and a burning focus on Zombozo. No matter how hard I try, if I'm even trying at all, my thoughts can't stray from him. It's almost suffocating being so intensely focused, yet that unilateral focus seems to be fueling the euphoria surrounding me. My conscious mind is struggling against what is happening, but I can't refuse the pure, unending happiness rushing through me in a constant stream. Eternities pass by like seconds. Time itself feels irrelevant. All that exists is an infinite sea of joy caused by Zombozo.

And just like that, my eyes open again and I am back in my cell, facing Zombozo. "What the fuck did you just do to me?" I protest, not knowing whether I should be happy or sad that it is over.

"That, my dear, was the inside of a clown slave's mind. Don't you see how pointless humanity is when submission is eternal and joyous? I must take my leave for now, but I urge you to think about our conversation and try to see things from a different perspective."

As I am about to respond, Zombozo promptly leaves, shutting the door behind himself, locking me up once again. The second the door closes, I curl up on my bed and cry for the first time since arriving in my cell. Whether it was the fact that I knew I would never leave, that all of my friends and family are gone, or simply the loss of whatever I was just feeling, all I knew was that I felt utterly broken down and defeated. The worst part is that halfway through my sobs, my crying was interrupted by the starting up again of the infernal speaker, repeating its mindless mantras on an endless loop once again.

Time continued to pass after that day, although it certainly didn't feel like it. Every day was completely identical: an inundation of sounds and images glorifying Zombozo, while the memory of Zombozo's visit hung in the back of my mind. It was hard to focus on anything other than him with so much constant sensory overload. I soon started to try and regain sanity by completely blocking him from my mind. I would close my eyes and cover my ears while desperately trying to remember anything from my life before imprisonment.

Every attempt to clear my head failed. My focus would slip for a second and thoughts of Zombozo would come rushing in, flooding my mind with his presence. The inner mind of the clown slave haunted me. Slowly but surely, I understood what it was like to be so dedicated to Zombozo. Soon, I could barely even remember my life before this prison. It started small: I would forget little quirks, names sat on the top of my tongue, and my memory of faces started to blur. To stem the tide, I would draw their faces in my food or just say their names over and over, but it simply wasn't enough to stop the psychological onslaught I was being subjected to. I was slipping.

My memories continued to weaken and soon small gaps became massive. I couldn't remember names that I knew I should know. I knew I grew up moving from place to place but I couldn't remember why. Even my own name started to become unclear. Only one thing stood clearly in my mind: Zombozo. I felt like I shouldn't listen to the voice on the loudspeaker, but it was the only constant in my life. I stared at the picture on my wall for hours and let its words seep into my mind. Eventually, I stopped trying to resist and let it consume me.

From here, my life settled into a complacent cycle. I would sit, staring at Zombozo and listening to the commands being fed to me. When my food arrived I ate it quickly and then leafed through the reading that came with it. My internal morality seemed to contradict what was being said, but my inner compass seemed increasingly useless. In here, nothing mattered but Zombozo. And when considering how happy the clown slave was, maybe he truly was a paragon of morality. After all, he was the only constant. And so I let my values erode.

Sometimes a flash of a memory would come to me, but it would be gone in a moment before I could focus on it. One day, the flashes stopped and I barely even noticed. I was too consumed with Zombozo. As I thought of him, I thought of obeying. After all, that's what the voice was telling me. I existed to obey him. I existed to obey the Clown God. Once I accepted that fact, the readings that came with my food made sense. I felt happy and fulfilled because I obeyed Zombozo. I felt nothing other than a calm feeling and a desire to serve. If Zombozo made everyone feel like this, then of course he is the bringer of paradise.

The readings I was given became longer and longer, detailing more in depth ways to obey. I devoured them like gospel. Obedience was religion, Zombozo was God, and I was a faithful disciple. I learned many things from those books. I read of how he liberated the world from human imperfection and brought the gift of the clowns to the world. I read of how he eradicated heretics and rebels to create a paradise. I learned how to better serve him. My body, my sexuality, my labor, my mind, and my soul were all his.

One day, I heard the door creak open as I was worshiping at the picture in my room. I turned to see Zombozo, the Clown God himself. I immediately faced him and prostrated, brimming with joy to be graced with the presence of my master. His foot tapped on the ground in front me and I quickly realized it was a command. In response, I started to lick and suck on his black shoe, filled with an immeasurable joy as I debased myself serving at the feet of my God.

After a short period of licking the top of Zombozo's foot, he picked up my chin with his foot until our eyes met. "Come with me, Alison. There are some people who would love to see you." I eagerly followed my Master through a winding maze of halls and doors until we walked out to a large stage opening out to massive crowds filled with clown slaves, teenaged children, and large camera stands.

On the stage were five people bound to posts with gags in their mouths, a large screen on the back of the stage, and a low table. Zombozo leaned over and whispered in my ear: "I know how I make you feel between your legs. Why don't you go lie down on the table and pleasure yourself to the thought of me? Don't worry about the crowds." I gave a meek nod in response to Zombozo's command and quickly removed my clothes and laid down on the table. I spread my legs, reached down, and started gently stroking my clitoris. The thought of Zombozo owning me and violating me drove me as I got more into it. Within a minute, I was letting out moans, and calling Zombozo's name while I masturbated on the table.

While I was pleasuring myself, I noticed Zombozo standing at the center of the stage and giving a speech, to which I listened in. "Hello all people of the world. Whether you are right here with me or watching from afar, I welcome you to the next phase of a new world order. What you see next to me on stage is a girl named Alison. She was the leader of the last vestiges of the revolution and now, well... see for yourself."

Zombozo took a brief pause, and my moans filled the silence. "Oh Zombozo! I exist to serve you! I need you Master! I am yours completely!"

Once I died down a little, Zombozo continued, "Some of you may simply think I used my abilities to control her into saying these words, but I assure you that there is no magic acting upon her at this moment. In fact, why don't I simply show you?" Zombozo walked near my head and touched my temples with one finger on each side of my head. I paused briefly to see the screen flash to life, with a picture of what I assume was a representation of my mind.

Zombozo began to speak again, "Her mind is pure. No magic is acting upon her whatsoever," he began to walk back to near the stage's center and speak with increasing intensity, "The final leader of the revolution has seen the light. There is no more resistance to the clowns. It is finally time for the world to be free of pain, suffering, sadness, and every irrational fault of the human condition. We are poised to enter an eternal golden age. It is now that we can release the chains of humanity and find new freedom in obedience! All Hail the Clowns! All Hail Zombozo!"

The crowd began to cheer uproariously and chant "Long live Zombozo! All hail Zombozo!"

While the crowd went crazy chanting, Zombozo walked over to me with a smirk on his face. "You've been quite good, Alison. Why don't I give you a reward?" he said quietly before spreading my legs and grabbing my hips. I moan as Zombozo thrusts his cock into my pussy, still wet from masturbating earlier. I stare at my god as he fucks me roughly, using his grip on my legs to thrust harder and harder.

My legs tremble as I drown in a sea of pleasure and am practically screaming out of euphoria. The crowd watches Zombozo use me with rapt attention, but doesn't once stop their chant and I feel joy in being used as a public demonstration of Zombozo's dominance. After about an hour of being publicly screwed, Zombozo looked me in the eyes and simply said one word, "Cum." In that instant I screamed incoherently and felt the most earth shatteringly powerful orgasm flow through my body.

As I laid on the table unable to move due to the rush of pleasure, I noticed Zombozo begin to walk to the other side of the stage. He begins to orate once again: "For our final demonstration today, let us deal with the final members of the rebels. They have given the ultimate gift: they will be used to finally cement the rule of the clowns. For that, they will be getting the ultimate reward: clownification. For all those watching, work well and worship hard, and maybe one day, you may be able to receive the reward. But for now, these fine people have earned their reward."

Zombozo walked to each of the five rebels, formed a clown nose in his hand, and placed a clown nose on each of their faces. The ropes and gags fell off naturally as white, rubbery skin spread over their bodies. Their feet turned into large, black, clown shoes. Their lips became black and twisted into full smiles and their faces and bodies morphed into mirror images of Zombozo. As the transformation finished, the five newly formed clown slaves walked over to me and pulled me off of the table. They placed me down on all fours and one positioned his dick in front of me, so I started to suck it. Simultaneously, two moved behind me and forced their cocks into both my vagina and asshole. The remaining two jerked off their cocks with one hand while groping my boobs, thighs, and butt with their other hand.

While I was gangbanged by the five new clown slaves, Zombozo walked back to the center of the stage and addressed the clowns one final time. "Welcome to the new world order. The past 18 years have been a prologue, but today, the era of clowns begins. A world of obedience and worship has arrived. A new eternity is here. All Hail Zombozo."