Go with
the Scrumdiddlyhumpcious
the Scrumdiddlyhumpcious
Why not get out of your comfort zone a bit? Isn’t this just what you were thinking about on the train — trying something new?
“Uh, I’ll take the Scrumpdidlio—”
“The Scrumdiddlyhumpcious?” The attendant smiles widely. “Excellent choice. I love mine! You can wear it anywhere,” he leans in with a knowing look, “even at work.”
Your mind flashes suddenly to a pair of cargo shorts, every pocket vibrating.
“I’ll just try it at home for now.” You slide the money across the table, adding a few notes of your own on top of the £100. The attendant rings you up.
“Do you want me to show you how it works quickly before you go?” he asks.
“That would be great, thanks.”
He fishes out a large pair of scissors, running one sharp edge over the seal to break it.
You flip open the box. The chrome vibrator is nestled in a bed of soft red tissue, winking in the light. But there’s something else. It looks like...a hint of gold.
You lean closer. “Is that-”
“Did you-”
You and the attendant both look at each other, your eyes wide. You reach in and pull out the glinting object.
It’s the golden choker. The very last one.
“Uh, I’ll take the Scrumpdidlio—”
“The Scrumdiddlyhumpcious?” The attendant smiles widely. “Excellent choice. I love mine! You can wear it anywhere,” he leans in with a knowing look, “even at work.”
Your mind flashes suddenly to a pair of cargo shorts, every pocket vibrating.
“I’ll just try it at home for now.” You slide the money across the table, adding a few notes of your own on top of the £100. The attendant rings you up.
“Do you want me to show you how it works quickly before you go?” he asks.
“That would be great, thanks.”
He fishes out a large pair of scissors, running one sharp edge over the seal to break it.
You flip open the box. The chrome vibrator is nestled in a bed of soft red tissue, winking in the light. But there’s something else. It looks like...a hint of gold.
You lean closer. “Is that-”
“Did you-”
You and the attendant both look at each other, your eyes wide. You reach in and pull out the glinting object.
It’s the golden choker. The very last one.
“Oh my god.”
“Oh my god.”
“Oh my GOD.”
The attendant snatches the choker and throws it back in the box, shoving it at you hurriedly.
“You have to go now. Run straight home, and don’t let anyone see this choker. Everyone wants to get their hands on it!” he says, practically shouting.
“Really? Am I in danger?” You look around, suddenly feeling that you are being watched.
“I don’t know, I mean sort of. Not really ‘danger’ per se, I mean it’s a sex toy factory. But you should leave right away! Kind of because of the choker thing but also the store is closing.” He taps his watch. “Like now. I have a life outside of here, you know.”
Back on the train, you clutch the box to your chest, careful not to let anyone see the label. Your heart is pounding with adrenaline, fear, and something else — a creeping excitement. Elation. You have the golden choker. As the other commuters exit and you near home, you start to relax, letting the good feeling wash over you.
It doesn’t last long. As you climb the steps to your flat, the feeling is already starting to fade. You turn your keys in the door and enter the flat, where the overwhelming smell of cooked tomatoes and spices hits you. You walk into the kitchen and find piles of dishes crusted with red sludge, cutting boards and knives on every surface. A pot boils sluggishly over a low heat on the stove. Why are they always making fucking chili? It uses practically every item in the kitchen.
You make your way over to the flat’s largest room. When you first moved in, you were told this would be the living room. Well, you were told a lot of things when you first moved in.
The door is slightly ajar, but you can hear noises within, whispers and soft moans and a wet slurping sound that you hope is someone eating chili. You knock once, then again. The other noises cease, but the whispers increase until a voice calls, “come in.”
You take a deep breath and enter. The room, as always, is in slight disarray. Your four flatmates are all tucked into the double-headboard ultra-large California king bed in the centre of the room in various states of undress. When you first came to look at the flat, you were under the impression that only JoJo was living there. However, in just a matter of months her entire polycule of partners had come to live in the room. You would think three extra flatmates might mean more cleaning gets done, but sadly not. Come to think of it, you’ve never even seen any of them out of bed, let alone anywhere near a mop.
“Oh my god.”
“Oh my GOD.”
The attendant snatches the choker and throws it back in the box, shoving it at you hurriedly.
“You have to go now. Run straight home, and don’t let anyone see this choker. Everyone wants to get their hands on it!” he says, practically shouting.
“Really? Am I in danger?” You look around, suddenly feeling that you are being watched.
“I don’t know, I mean sort of. Not really ‘danger’ per se, I mean it’s a sex toy factory. But you should leave right away! Kind of because of the choker thing but also the store is closing.” He taps his watch. “Like now. I have a life outside of here, you know.”
Back on the train, you clutch the box to your chest, careful not to let anyone see the label. Your heart is pounding with adrenaline, fear, and something else — a creeping excitement. Elation. You have the golden choker. As the other commuters exit and you near home, you start to relax, letting the good feeling wash over you.
It doesn’t last long. As you climb the steps to your flat, the feeling is already starting to fade. You turn your keys in the door and enter the flat, where the overwhelming smell of cooked tomatoes and spices hits you. You walk into the kitchen and find piles of dishes crusted with red sludge, cutting boards and knives on every surface. A pot boils sluggishly over a low heat on the stove. Why are they always making fucking chili? It uses practically every item in the kitchen.
You make your way over to the flat’s largest room. When you first moved in, you were told this would be the living room. Well, you were told a lot of things when you first moved in.
The door is slightly ajar, but you can hear noises within, whispers and soft moans and a wet slurping sound that you hope is someone eating chili. You knock once, then again. The other noises cease, but the whispers increase until a voice calls, “come in.”
You take a deep breath and enter. The room, as always, is in slight disarray. Your four flatmates are all tucked into the double-headboard ultra-large California king bed in the centre of the room in various states of undress. When you first came to look at the flat, you were under the impression that only JoJo was living there. However, in just a matter of months her entire polycule of partners had come to live in the room. You would think three extra flatmates might mean more cleaning gets done, but sadly not. Come to think of it, you’ve never even seen any of them out of bed, let alone anywhere near a mop.
JoJo lounges closest to you, knitting what looks like a strap-on harness. Across from her, Joey and Georgia are playing Scrabble topless. Georgie sits next to JoJo, eating a bowl of chili while flipping through a week-old newspaper.
“What’s new chickadee?” JoJo calls cheerfully.
“Did you all make chili again?”
“Don’t worry, there's plenty left!” Georgie says through a huge mouthful.
“It would just be really nice if you could clean up before I got home. I feel like we’ve talked about this.”
Georgia looks up, “Ah sorry about that Charli. We’ve been syncing all evening.”
“What’s new chickadee?” JoJo calls cheerfully.
“Did you all make chili again?”
“Don’t worry, there's plenty left!” Georgie says through a huge mouthful.
“It would just be really nice if you could clean up before I got home. I feel like we’ve talked about this.”
Georgia looks up, “Ah sorry about that Charli. We’ve been syncing all evening.”
All four nod. No one has bothered to explain to you what ‘syncing’ is, but it always seems to involve doors that you’d rather were all the way closed and piles of unwashed dishes.
Joey frowns slightly.
“Are you okay? You look a bit...sweaty or something.”
“What’s in the box?” asks JoJo suspiciously.
You can trust them, right? I mean, they literally never even leave the flat.
“I sort of...won something. Have you heard about the Princessy Kisska competition, the one to see her factory?”
“Sure, everyone’s heard of it,” says Georgie, still somehow with chili in his mouth.
“Well I got the last choker today when I bought a new, uh, gift for myself.”
It’s not exactly the reaction you were hoping for. They are all giving you the same pitying look. Why is everyone always doing that?
“We’re so glad you’re embracing your sexuality more fully, Charli,” says Georgia. “To be honest, we’ve been worried about you for a while. We spent a whole evening syncing about it.”
Joey chimes in, “But do you really think it’s a good idea to go to that factory? Who knows what kind of hidden cameras and privacy-stealing machines are in there! Her dildos are probably collecting data for Big Pharma.”
Georgie nods, “I heard she’s working with the CIA to create a catalogue of everyone’s secret sexual fantasies, to use against them in case of insurgency.”
JoJo rolls her eyes, “Don’t listen to them, Charli. I think it’s great you won the choker! In fact, I’ll go with you. It said in the news that the winners get to bring one person with them.”
You consider this. It’s definitely less daunting than going alone.
“Yeah, alright. Thanks JoJo.”
Back in your room, you fall face first on the bed, ready to pass out after the exhausting day. As soon as your head hits the pillow, your phone chimes. You roll over and check the screen. It’s a DM from an account you don’t recognize: @therealslutworth
@therealslutworth
you up?
Some sleezy dude from the Accounting department at CargoCorp probably.
Joey frowns slightly.
“Are you okay? You look a bit...sweaty or something.”
“What’s in the box?” asks JoJo suspiciously.
You can trust them, right? I mean, they literally never even leave the flat.
“I sort of...won something. Have you heard about the Princessy Kisska competition, the one to see her factory?”
“Sure, everyone’s heard of it,” says Georgie, still somehow with chili in his mouth.
“Well I got the last choker today when I bought a new, uh, gift for myself.”
It’s not exactly the reaction you were hoping for. They are all giving you the same pitying look. Why is everyone always doing that?
“We’re so glad you’re embracing your sexuality more fully, Charli,” says Georgia. “To be honest, we’ve been worried about you for a while. We spent a whole evening syncing about it.”
Joey chimes in, “But do you really think it’s a good idea to go to that factory? Who knows what kind of hidden cameras and privacy-stealing machines are in there! Her dildos are probably collecting data for Big Pharma.”
Georgie nods, “I heard she’s working with the CIA to create a catalogue of everyone’s secret sexual fantasies, to use against them in case of insurgency.”
JoJo rolls her eyes, “Don’t listen to them, Charli. I think it’s great you won the choker! In fact, I’ll go with you. It said in the news that the winners get to bring one person with them.”
You consider this. It’s definitely less daunting than going alone.
“Yeah, alright. Thanks JoJo.”
Back in your room, you fall face first on the bed, ready to pass out after the exhausting day. As soon as your head hits the pillow, your phone chimes. You roll over and check the screen. It’s a DM from an account you don’t recognize: @therealslutworth
@therealslutworth
you up?
Some sleezy dude from the Accounting department at CargoCorp probably.
@charlixx
sorry who is this?
sorry who is this?
@therealslutworth
i could be a friend...or maybe more. i know you have the last choker.
Your heart starts beating faster. Who could have seen you? Unless the sex shop attendant told someone...
i could be a friend...or maybe more. i know you have the last choker.
Your heart starts beating faster. Who could have seen you? Unless the sex shop attendant told someone...
@charlixx
i don’t know what you’re talking about
i don’t know what you’re talking about
@therealslutworth
don’t play hard to get with me babycakes. i have a proposition for you. if you can get me pictures of the inside of kisska’s factory, i’ll make it worth your while.
You’re ready to block them, but curiosity gets the better of you.
don’t play hard to get with me babycakes. i have a proposition for you. if you can get me pictures of the inside of kisska’s factory, i’ll make it worth your while.
You’re ready to block them, but curiosity gets the better of you.
@charlixx
what do you mean?
what do you mean?
@therealslutworth
i mean i could offer you the kind of money that would mean you’d never have to work again. no more cargocorp. no more shared flat. think about it. call this number if you have what i need.
As soon as the phone number comes through, all the other messages suddenly vanish. You tap on the account, only to find an error message saying that it no longer exists. You’re in a cold sweat now. How did they know so much about you? But you’re nervous for another reason. That kind of money, just falling into your lap...wouldn’t this solve all your problems? You go back to the message screen and screenshot the number. Just in case.
XXXX
On the day of the factory tour, the streets are abuzz with excitement. You and JoJo practically can’t squeeze onto the train out to Kisska’s factory, it's so full of people. As you near the entrance to the factory, you duck into an alleyway to put your choker on.
“Wow,” Jojo says, after she clasps the choker and turns you around for a first look. “You look fucking hot.” You grin. You feel hot. Something about the choker, the excitement of the day, seeing JoJo out and about and not mid-coitus with your other flatmates: you feel a lightness that you haven’t felt in a long time.
i mean i could offer you the kind of money that would mean you’d never have to work again. no more cargocorp. no more shared flat. think about it. call this number if you have what i need.
As soon as the phone number comes through, all the other messages suddenly vanish. You tap on the account, only to find an error message saying that it no longer exists. You’re in a cold sweat now. How did they know so much about you? But you’re nervous for another reason. That kind of money, just falling into your lap...wouldn’t this solve all your problems? You go back to the message screen and screenshot the number. Just in case.
XXXX
On the day of the factory tour, the streets are abuzz with excitement. You and JoJo practically can’t squeeze onto the train out to Kisska’s factory, it's so full of people. As you near the entrance to the factory, you duck into an alleyway to put your choker on.
“Wow,” Jojo says, after she clasps the choker and turns you around for a first look. “You look fucking hot.” You grin. You feel hot. Something about the choker, the excitement of the day, seeing JoJo out and about and not mid-coitus with your other flatmates: you feel a lightness that you haven’t felt in a long time.
As you approach the factory, a towering building coated in sparkling glitter that makes it difficult to even look at, people start to notice you. They whisper and point at your choker as you and JoJo make your way through the crowd that has already formed a tight semi-circle around the factory gates, where the other four winners are waiting.
A security guard looks you up and down as you approach, a suspicious look on his face. After a brief scan of your choker, he lets you inside to join the others by the gates.
Most of the other contestants you already recognize from their TV interviews. Diega Salata, the third most famous Instagram model in Northwest Italy, poses in front of the glittering gates as an older man in a suit snaps her photo. Jessica DeeJay, a self-described “nautical spin doctor” who lives on their houseboat in Berlin, leans against the gates with a pair of oversized headphones on, looking bored. Viola Beverly, a tech magnate of indeterminable age who has more than once referred to herself as “She-lon Musk”, fishes through an enormous handbag. And finally, Arnold Slick, the secretive Australian mechanic, sits astride an idling motorcycle, combing his hair back with pomade.
As you and JoJo approach, Arnold Slick and Diega Salata look over, curious. Jessica DeeJay spares you a cursory glance.
“And who are you supposed to be?” Viola Beverly asks. She has finally found what she was looking for in her bag, a small packet of Werther’s Originals, and is peering at you through a pair of designer reading glasses.
“I’m Charli. I won the final choker.”
Diega Salata smiles.
“It looks great on you. Should we take a pic?”
Before you can say anything, she has hustled you, JoJo, and a bewildered Viola Beverly over to the gates and is directing the older man in the suit.
“Let’s get one wide angle, one portrait mode, and one boomerang. And please for the love of god make sure everything is in focus,” she snaps, before smiling sweetly and trilling, “Thank you, Daddy!”
As Daddy diligently takes the photos, you try to make conversation with Diega Salata, who at least seems friendly.
A security guard looks you up and down as you approach, a suspicious look on his face. After a brief scan of your choker, he lets you inside to join the others by the gates.
Most of the other contestants you already recognize from their TV interviews. Diega Salata, the third most famous Instagram model in Northwest Italy, poses in front of the glittering gates as an older man in a suit snaps her photo. Jessica DeeJay, a self-described “nautical spin doctor” who lives on their houseboat in Berlin, leans against the gates with a pair of oversized headphones on, looking bored. Viola Beverly, a tech magnate of indeterminable age who has more than once referred to herself as “She-lon Musk”, fishes through an enormous handbag. And finally, Arnold Slick, the secretive Australian mechanic, sits astride an idling motorcycle, combing his hair back with pomade.
As you and JoJo approach, Arnold Slick and Diega Salata look over, curious. Jessica DeeJay spares you a cursory glance.
“And who are you supposed to be?” Viola Beverly asks. She has finally found what she was looking for in her bag, a small packet of Werther’s Originals, and is peering at you through a pair of designer reading glasses.
“I’m Charli. I won the final choker.”
Diega Salata smiles.
“It looks great on you. Should we take a pic?”
Before you can say anything, she has hustled you, JoJo, and a bewildered Viola Beverly over to the gates and is directing the older man in the suit.
“Let’s get one wide angle, one portrait mode, and one boomerang. And please for the love of god make sure everything is in focus,” she snaps, before smiling sweetly and trilling, “Thank you, Daddy!”
As Daddy diligently takes the photos, you try to make conversation with Diega Salata, who at least seems friendly.
“It’s nice your boyfriend could come,” you whisper.
She laughs, “He’s not my boyfriend, yikes! He’s rich as fuck though, he owns stock in like every major candy company in the world. He’s my sugar daddy! But also Sugar Daddy is legally his name. He changed it, for business reasons.”
“What? Is that-”
At that moment, you hear a creaking sound and turn around. You all step back as the gates swing open. A long mirrored catwalk stands between you and the front doors of the factory, where a figure has appeared.
Princessy Kisska. The paparazzi start snapping photos rapid-fire and the news anchors ready their mics. It’s hard to tell from afar, but she appears to be dressed in a nude form-fitting bodysuit, the only bit of color coming from the glittering tiara that rests above her sharp bob. She steps purposefully and slowly down the steps, teasing the crowd that waits, hushed, to recieve her. Then she pauses and — what is happening? It seems as if another two women are appearing from behind her, almost exactly identical to her. And then another four appear. And another four. And suddenly a crowd of these women is forming around her, filling the space between the gates and the factory entrance. Now that they are close you see the way they seem to sway in the breeze, the way the light practically goes through them. It’s almost as if they were...
She laughs, “He’s not my boyfriend, yikes! He’s rich as fuck though, he owns stock in like every major candy company in the world. He’s my sugar daddy! But also Sugar Daddy is legally his name. He changed it, for business reasons.”
“What? Is that-”
At that moment, you hear a creaking sound and turn around. You all step back as the gates swing open. A long mirrored catwalk stands between you and the front doors of the factory, where a figure has appeared.
Princessy Kisska. The paparazzi start snapping photos rapid-fire and the news anchors ready their mics. It’s hard to tell from afar, but she appears to be dressed in a nude form-fitting bodysuit, the only bit of color coming from the glittering tiara that rests above her sharp bob. She steps purposefully and slowly down the steps, teasing the crowd that waits, hushed, to recieve her. Then she pauses and — what is happening? It seems as if another two women are appearing from behind her, almost exactly identical to her. And then another four appear. And another four. And suddenly a crowd of these women is forming around her, filling the space between the gates and the factory entrance. Now that they are close you see the way they seem to sway in the breeze, the way the light practically goes through them. It’s almost as if they were...
“Holograms,” Viola Beverly breathes behind you, sending a faint waft of Werthers your way. “Very clever stuff. Never got into it myself.”
You can hear Diega Salata whispering to Sugar Daddy, “Do you think this content is good enough for my OnlyFans?”
Arnold Slick revs his engine and a nervous giggle passes through the crowd.
Jessica DeeJay rolls their eyes and flicks through their phone.
Suddenly a voice booms forth from the factory doors, frightening the birds from the trees.
“The contestants may enter.”
After a moment's hesitation, JoJo tugs at your hand. You and the other contestants pass between the gates and through the wall of Kisska holograms. You can almost feel the static, warm against your skin, or maybe you are just flushed with excitement as the factory looms closer and closer.
The doors open automatically, and you step inside. The entrance hall is sparse, almost clinical. Exposed pipes run above you, blocking the rays of sun from the skylights on the mile-high ceilings. The white walls are unmarked, making it all the more frightening when a hidden door opens with a bang. In it stands that same sharp-bobbed woman, but this time dressed in a pair of leather bike shorts, a sequined crop top, and a tiara at least a foot in height that wobbles precariously as the woman rushes towards you, arms outstretched.
“Sorry for all the drama!” Kisska cries, beaming at you. “I just can’t stand them trying to get pictures of me. They’ve never respected my boundaries, the news media.” She shakes her head, and the tiara jiggles menacingly. “But I’m so happy that you all are here. It’s just wonderful to finally be able to show off my creations in their natural habitat.” Her lipstick seems to change colour as the light catches it, giving her an alarming kind of smile.
“Well, I’m sure introductions have already been made and deep friendships forged, so let's get on with the tour! This first room is one of my favourites. My personal Garden of Eden, except we condone all sins here, don’t worry!” she elbows Viola playfully, causing her to choke on her hard candy.
“Ah just one thing.” She turns and surveys you all, looking serious. “I take my rules and my boundaries very seriously, but the most serious of all is this: no pictures, under any circumstances. I’ve left a box here for your mobile phones.”
One by one you walk over to deposit your cell phones through the slot of a glittering box. You hesitate just slightly before dropping yours in — the offer from Slutworth is still at the back of your mind — but you know that you couldn’t live with yourself if you went against Kisska’s wishes.
“All good? Then we’re ready!” Kisska rushes ahead and presses at the wall to your left, which swings open at her lightest touch.
There is a collective gasp. Even Jessica DeeJay begrudgingly removes their headphones to fully take it in.
It’s a veritable garden of pleasures. Brilliant sunlight streams from above through glass tinted just slightly pink, casting a sensuous glow on your surroundings. The air has the heavy perfume of a greenhouse and is slightly steamy, giving your skin a not unpleasant sticky feeling. To your right, a wide clear river burbles pleasantly as it cuts through the menagerie. You press a hand to the luscious moss at your feet, which vibrates to your touch. Bushes sprout riding crops and whips of all shapes and sizes. Multicoloured dildos hang from trees, the small ones just budding at the treetops while the XXL ones hang heavy on the lower branches.
You can hear Diega Salata whispering to Sugar Daddy, “Do you think this content is good enough for my OnlyFans?”
Arnold Slick revs his engine and a nervous giggle passes through the crowd.
Jessica DeeJay rolls their eyes and flicks through their phone.
Suddenly a voice booms forth from the factory doors, frightening the birds from the trees.
“The contestants may enter.”
After a moment's hesitation, JoJo tugs at your hand. You and the other contestants pass between the gates and through the wall of Kisska holograms. You can almost feel the static, warm against your skin, or maybe you are just flushed with excitement as the factory looms closer and closer.
The doors open automatically, and you step inside. The entrance hall is sparse, almost clinical. Exposed pipes run above you, blocking the rays of sun from the skylights on the mile-high ceilings. The white walls are unmarked, making it all the more frightening when a hidden door opens with a bang. In it stands that same sharp-bobbed woman, but this time dressed in a pair of leather bike shorts, a sequined crop top, and a tiara at least a foot in height that wobbles precariously as the woman rushes towards you, arms outstretched.
“Sorry for all the drama!” Kisska cries, beaming at you. “I just can’t stand them trying to get pictures of me. They’ve never respected my boundaries, the news media.” She shakes her head, and the tiara jiggles menacingly. “But I’m so happy that you all are here. It’s just wonderful to finally be able to show off my creations in their natural habitat.” Her lipstick seems to change colour as the light catches it, giving her an alarming kind of smile.
“Well, I’m sure introductions have already been made and deep friendships forged, so let's get on with the tour! This first room is one of my favourites. My personal Garden of Eden, except we condone all sins here, don’t worry!” she elbows Viola playfully, causing her to choke on her hard candy.
“Ah just one thing.” She turns and surveys you all, looking serious. “I take my rules and my boundaries very seriously, but the most serious of all is this: no pictures, under any circumstances. I’ve left a box here for your mobile phones.”
One by one you walk over to deposit your cell phones through the slot of a glittering box. You hesitate just slightly before dropping yours in — the offer from Slutworth is still at the back of your mind — but you know that you couldn’t live with yourself if you went against Kisska’s wishes.
“All good? Then we’re ready!” Kisska rushes ahead and presses at the wall to your left, which swings open at her lightest touch.
There is a collective gasp. Even Jessica DeeJay begrudgingly removes their headphones to fully take it in.
It’s a veritable garden of pleasures. Brilliant sunlight streams from above through glass tinted just slightly pink, casting a sensuous glow on your surroundings. The air has the heavy perfume of a greenhouse and is slightly steamy, giving your skin a not unpleasant sticky feeling. To your right, a wide clear river burbles pleasantly as it cuts through the menagerie. You press a hand to the luscious moss at your feet, which vibrates to your touch. Bushes sprout riding crops and whips of all shapes and sizes. Multicoloured dildos hang from trees, the small ones just budding at the treetops while the XXL ones hang heavy on the lower branches.
“Explore away, my luscious lovers! Be sure to be careful around the lube river, it can get slippery.” Kisska sings, spreading her arms wide.
JoJo sprints off through the bushes, clearly having spotted something that has sparked her interest. You’re about to follow her, but then you notice Arnold Slick making his way toward the lube river, stealing glances at the others over his shoulder. He’s acting strange.
Do you…
JoJo sprints off through the bushes, clearly having spotted something that has sparked her interest. You’re about to follow her, but then you notice Arnold Slick making his way toward the lube river, stealing glances at the others over his shoulder. He’s acting strange.
Do you…