Once I saw the Instagram story asking if anyone would be willing to get creampied for charity, I knew I had to attend the clown sex rave in Downtown Los Angeles.
The party was at 99 Warehouse, a spot quickly becoming a requisite fixture of L.A.'s nightlife scene. At this venue, known for its sex-positive events and wild themes, “cream pie” could mean a couple of different things. Fortunately, this time it meant an actual pie.
“There was supposed to be a giant ball pit, but someone stole it!” owner Lydia tells me as I walked in.
This was apparently the first problem of the evening.
The space had been transformed into a carnival nightmare, or maybe the carnival of your dreams, depending on how you felt about clowns, latex, balloon animals, and watching strangers volunteer to put balloons through their noses.
A giant merry-go-round bounce house sat in the middle of the courtyard while hardstep music blasted loud enough to make my chest vibrate.
“Over 600 people RSVP'd to this event,” Lydia says. “It'll be packed.”
Inside, performers hung from aerial hoops while almost everyone wandering through the space wore some version of clown makeup.
I came dressed as a Juggalo businesswoman: white face, black diamonds around my eyes, and a jumbo-sized tie I already own. Don't worry about how I'm living.
Venus took to the pole wearing a black latex top, combat boots, a frilly clown collar, pigtails, and a chain wrapped around her waist. She hung upside down as the room began filling around her.
One partygoer, who asked to remain anonymous, told me it was their third time clowning.
“I love the double lives we get to live,” they say, fanning themselves with an enormous hand fan. During the week, they are a school music teacher. Clowning, they told me, had become a new hobby.
The first competition of the night was a bong-rip balloon-animal challenge, hosted from the stage as the crowd gathered around.
Two participants took massive hits and held them before putting balloon animals in their mouths, and the host began counting. The goal was to see who could hold the hit the longest without popping their balloon.
The seconds kept going.
“You guys gotta breathe,” the announcer yelled. “I can't let you die here!”
They made it past 40 seconds.
Outside, a face-painting station was set up for people who wanted to participate but didn’t conveniently have clown makeup at home. They lined up like children at a state fair, waiting for their cute little clown transformations.
The crowd was one of the most mixed bags of people I'd ever seen. Incredible dancers stood next to people who looked like Westside parents. The boys were trying their best. The women appeared to have perfected everything they touched.
“There are more mixed scenes here tonight,” a partygoer tells me. “We have people from the BDSM scene, which tend to range on the older side, 25-year-olds, real clowns, sex workers, and [friends of] everyone who is performing, who have come to support.”
One man wore a “John Pork Is Calling” shirt. Another partygoer named Zachary, whose body was covered in impressively executed meme-centric tattoos, stopped to talk with me about his work. I asked to see the giant emoji tattoo on his back.
Peak 2007 scene-kid hair was back in style with 20-something men, who sported shaggy cuts and skinny jeans. There were many clown couples where the woman had the man on a leash. Nobody there seemed afraid to be silly, playful, ironic, bright, horny, or all of the above.
Miss Trouble eventually took the stage. She wore a giant medieval flail made entirely of silver balloons over her head, face painted with light blue diamonds around her eyes, and clad in a pink clown nose, latex thigh-high boots with white laces, and multiple layers of underwear.
She spanked herself with a paddle, seductively thrusting her pelvis toward a pump to inflate a balloon more than a foot long, before putting it down her throat until it popped. The crowd lost its mind.
Lydia grabbed the microphone to let the audience know Miss Trouble would be offering spankings to anyone interested.
Right next to the stage, she had set up a black leather spanking bench beside a table with a prize wheel. Guests could spin to find out their fate. The prizes included a paddle spanking, a ball gag made from a balloon, and a sound thrusting with a giant balloon-animal penis.
People approached the wheel looking shy. But as Trouble approached them with their winnings, you could see people opening up. One man loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt before Miss Trouble handcuffed him using a balloon animal cuff.
People approached the wheel looking shy. But as Trouble approached them with their winnings, you could see people opening up. One man loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt before Miss Trouble handcuffed him using a balloon animal cuff.
Throughout the night, I watched performers check in with participants before and during scenes. Miss Trouble asked people if they were okay while interacting with volunteers, and partygoers appeared comfortable speaking up about what they did and didn't want.
Behind me, a man stood with a python wrapped around his neck, offering to let women pet or hold her.
“I've been training her for 10 years,” he tells me. “She doesn't mind this environment at all.”
I reluctantly pet the snake.
Moving outside to get away from the snake (I hate them), a fire-breather danced with two flaming sticks before setting her tongue on fire.
Near the front door, Wicked Kreation was selling sex toys, tentacle whips, wax candles, and something called “fire bubbles.” They were exactly what they sounded like: bubbles filled with propane that could briefly be lit on fire and easily patted out.
The makeshift bar was beginning to look overwhelmed. Two-liter bottles of soda lined the counter while two bartenders poured hard alcohol into plastic cups. One bartender wore gift bows over her nipples and nothing else.
Merch behind the bar also made for great conversation pieces. With holiday season soon approaching, consider buying an “I Paused My Hentai at 99 Warehouse” or “I Got Creampied at 99 Warehouse” t-shirt for someone you love.
Once I knew the snake had left, I moved back inside to glimpse Chole onstage. Her body was covered in tight plastic wrap as she got pied in the face and covered in cream before another clown poured Dr. Pepper over her head.
Then came the announcement: The stage was open for volunteers. For every $10 that was donated to Red Cross, volunteers could get creampied. Many brave souls took the stage and took a pie to the face in the name of charity, eventually raising a couple hundred dollars in donations.
At one point, a group of men took turns showing each other pole tricks, one by one hitting the pole to see who could lift themselves upside down and attempt to walk on the ceiling. The DJ had put on Durood Sandstorm at an even faster RPM than it originally came in.
Freaky-ass white boys in loose-fit denim and newsboy caps swung around the pole with what could only be described as Barnes & Noble chic.
Then Reckless Ben, a YouTuber known for taking down shady businesses like Provo Canyon School, took the stage with Lydia and announced that the winner of the next game would receive a prize of $69. The only rule was that if you volunteered, you couldn't chicken out.
Several people walked onstage without knowing what they'd agreed to.
“The balloon challenge!” Ben announces.
The challenge involved putting a balloon through your nose and pulling it out through your mouth while keeping some air inside.
Multiple volunteers immediately began gagging, regretting their participation with the task, sight unseen. It took less than two minutes before a winner was crowned.
Toward the back of this concrete heaven, Dominatrix Lilith Noir walked through the party wearing a latex apron, fishnets, and black boots with a submissive on a leash, occasionally stopping to have him get on all fours for a flogging. No stage lights or announcements, just the love of the game.
By that point, the room was humid from the above-ground pool in the back where dancer and professional swimmer Paige was swimming dressed as a seal with a trainer.
The late-night crowd had finally arrived, as hundreds of people packed inside. It smelled like chlorine, with vape smoke hanging in the air, making it feel like a Florida summer.
Venus returned to the stage with balloons hanging from fresh piercings in her cheeks, which had been done backstage earlier that night. She opened her purse and pulled out a heavy chain, swinging it around as she contorted her body. Faces around me shifted between confusion and excitement as Venus tugged at the piercings, stretching her mouth wide.
Venus returned to the stage with balloons hanging from fresh piercings in her cheeks, which had been done backstage earlier that night. She opened her purse and pulled out a heavy chain, swinging it around as she contorted her body.
Once Venus’ performance was done, Lydia grabbed the microphone to make an announcement for the next act.
“We have some squirting clowns, so if you don't want to get wet, move to the back! Make your own mistake!” she says.
The DJ, wearing an old computer monitor over his head with a digital smiley face, started playing classic circus music. The crowd grew in anticipation of the big finale: a clowning act from Violet and Rubie.
Three young men came onstage and lined it with plastic.
Lydia hadn't been joking about there being a splash zone. The DJ shifted to “When I’m Clownin’ (feat. Kreayshawn)” by Insane Clown Posse.
Violet and Rubie came out wearing latex two-piece sets with painted clown faces, then performed a more theatrical, mime-style act.
Rubie slowly removed her corset before sitting on a sex bench. A seemingly endless handkerchief began emerging from her vagina. Violet sat down and did the same thing. The two looked back and forth at each other, tugging on the handkerchiefs and acting surprised as they kept coming. And coming. And coming.
The crowd laughed, jaws hanging wide open, as Lydia cheered courtside like a proud mother at a talent show.
Violet dug through a bag of toys and eventually pulled out an orange strap-on. The two mimed back and forth about where it should go before deciding to attach it to Rubie's back so Violet could ride her horseback-style, bouncing up and down into a climax heard around the world.
Violet dug through a bag of toys and eventually pulled out an orange strap-on. The two mimed back and forth about where it should go before deciding to attach it to Rubie's back so Violet could ride her horseback-style, bouncing up and down into a climax heard around the world.
After getting off Rubie, Violet grabbed a two-liter bottle of Faygo, shook it violently, and sprayed herself while Rubie, who was using a vibrating wand toy, squirted into the audience.
By 4 a.m., I'd watched people take bong rips with balloon animals in their mouths, pet a python, get sprayed with Faygo by squirting clowns, voluntarily pull balloons through their noses for $69, and raise a couple hundred dollars for charity.
No one there seemed too cool for any of it.
Follow 99 Warehouse on Instagram for future events and performances. Visit their vampire-themed blood drive in October.
