A story of best friends, matching Lululemon jumpsuits, a birthday party, and one spectacularly muddy afternoon.
Chapter 1: Fashionably Late
Kristine and Andrea had been best friends for twelve years, and if there was one thing everyone knew about them, it was that they could turn an ordinary afternoon into an unforgettable disaster.
On Saturday, they were already running forty minutes late for their friend Melissa’s birthday party.
“ANDREA! Where are my sunglasses?”Kristine shouted from the hallway.
“Check your head!” Andrea yelled back.
Kristine reached up. Her sunglasses were sitting on top of her head.
“Oh. Right.”
Andrea emerged from the bedroom, laughing,dressed in a sleek black Lululemon jumpsuit that fitted neatly from her shoulders to her ankles. Kristine wore an almost identical one. Both women had white sneakers,ponytails, and matching little belt bags. They had spent nearly an hour getting ready,determined to look effortlessly stylish.
Kristine examined them in the mirror.
“We look incredible.”
“We look expensive,” Andrea corrected.
“And we are absolutely not getting these outfits dirty today.”
Andrea raised her hand solemnly. “I swear on my entire Lululemon collection.”
Neither of them realized how quickly that promise would be broken.
They jumped into Kristine’s SUV and headed toward the countryside, where Melissa was hosting her birthday party at a property with a barbecue area, a large lawn, and an old clay quarry nearby.
They arrived late, hungry, and ready to celebrate.
They would leave the quarry looking like two people who had attempted to wrestle an entire hillside.
Chapter 2: The Party Gets Out of Hand
Melissa greeted them at the gate.
“You're forty minutes late!”
“Fashion takes time,” Kristine announced.
Melissa looked them up and down. “You wore matching jumpsuits?”
“Obviously,” Andrea said. “We're a package deal.”
Music played across the lawn, guests mingled around the food tables, and someone handed the women drinks. They promised to pace themselves, but as the afternoon wore on,their promises became less convincing.
One drink became another. They danced, sang along to the music, and attempted to teach Melissa’s uncle a complicated dance routine.
By late afternoon, both were visibly tipsy and laughing at practically everything.
Then Andrea spotted the clay quarry beyond the property.
“Oh my gosh, Kristine. Imagine the pictures!”
Kristine turned toward the reddish-brown clay banks.
“No.”
“Just one picture!”
“No, Andrea. We have expensive outfits.”
“Two pictures?”
“Absolutely not.”
Five minutes later, the two best friends were walking toward the quarry with their phones out.
They stayed well away from the steep quarry face, approaching only a broad,muddy patch of level ground near the lower bank. Unfortunately, recent rain had left the clay slick, sticky, and treacherous.
Andrea pointed at the scenery.
“Tell me this isn't the perfect photo location.”
Kristine smiled at the camera.
“It is perfect.”
Her sneaker slid.
Her smile disappeared.
And the afternoon descended into chaos.
Chapter 3: Ten Faceplants in the Clay
Faceplant No. 1: Kristine Goes Down
Kristine stepped backward to frame the quarry in the background.
Her white sneaker landed on a slippery patch of reddish clay.
“Oh, cra—!”
Her feet slid forward, her arms shot into the air, and she fell straight forward, landing face-first in the soft mud.
SPLAT!
She lay still for a second, stunned.
Clay coated her forehead, nose, cheeks, and chin. Her hands and forearms were covered in brown muck, and her black jumpsuit was smeared across the chest, stomach, hips, thighs, knees, and shins.
Her once-white sneakers were already turning brown.
She slowly lifted her head.
“Andrea.”
Andrea had both hands over her mouth.
“Don't you dare laugh.”
Andrea made a strangled noise.
Then she burst out laughing.
“YOUR FACE!”
Kristine wiped her eyes with a muddy wrist.
“Help me up, you traitor!”
Faceplant No. 2: Andrea Joins the Disaster
Andrea reached down and grabbed Kristine’s hand.
“Come on. I've got you.”
She planted her feet firmly.
Or so she thought.
Her right sneaker slid forward, her left leg shot backward, and she toppled directly beside Kristine.
SPLOOOCH!
Andrea landed face-first in the same muddy patch.
Clay spread across her cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. Both hands sank into the muck, and the front of her black jumpsuit became streaked from neckline to ankles.
She lifted her head and stared at Kristine.
For three seconds, neither spoke.
Then Kristine started laughing.
Andrea looked horrified.
“You said you'd help me!”
“I DID!”
“You pulled me down!”
“I didn't pull you down! Gravity did!”
Both women collapsed into helpless laughter,their muddy faces practically touching.
Faceplant No. 3: The Failed Get-Up
“Okay,” Kristine announced. “We are getting up. Slowly.”
Andrea nodded seriously.
They turned onto their knees and attempted to push themselves upright.
“One, two, three!”
Their sneakers slipped at exactly the same moment.
Both women pitched forward and landed face-first in the clay again.
PLOP! PLOP!
Kristine's hands disappeared into a shallow puddle. Andrea's elbows and knees were thoroughly coated, and muddy water spread across the front of her jumpsuit.
Their outfits were no longer simply stained. Clay had worked into the fabric at the shoulders, sleeves, waist, hips, thighs,and lower legs. Their ponytails had begun to loosen, and muddy strands stuck to their foreheads.
Kristine lifted her head.
“I hate this quarry.”
Andrea spat out a laugh.
“You loved it thirty seconds ago!”
“THAT WAS BEFORE IT ATTACKED ME!”
Faceplant No. 4: Andrea’s Brilliant Shortcut
Andrea noticed a patch of ground a few feet away that appeared firmer.
“Over there. That looks dry.”
Kristine narrowed her eyes.
“Nothing here is dry.”
“Trust me.”
“That's what you said before I fell.”
Andrea took three confident steps.
Her fourth step landed on a slick strip of clay.
Her foot slid forward, and she dropped onto her hands and knees before tipping forward into another faceplant.
WHUMP!
Her face pressed into the muddy ground,leaving a broad smear across her forehead and cheek.
Kristine hurried to help, forgetting that she was standing on the same slippery surface.
She slipped too, landing on her knees beside Andrea.
Andrea turned her head.
“Did you just fall trying to rescue me?”
Kristine glared at her.
“I'm beginning to think we're not very good at this.”
Andrea started laughing again.
Faceplant No. 5: Kristine's Revenge
Kristine decided she needed to prove that she could navigate the clay better than Andrea.
She stood with her feet apart, arms extended,and moved forward in tiny, careful steps.
“Observe,” she announced. “Balance. Coordination. Athletic ability.”
Andrea watched skeptically.
Kristine took one more step.
Her sneaker slid.
She windmilled her arms, stumbled forward,and landed face-first on a soft mound of clay.
THUD-SPLAT!
This was her messiest fall yet.
Clay covered her face from forehead to chin. Both sleeves were smeared almost to the elbows, and thick reddish-brown streaks ran down the front of her jumpsuit. Mud coated her knees, thighs, and shins, while her ponytail dragged through the earth.
Andrea stared.
“Balance! Coordination! Athletic ability!”
Kristine raised her muddy head.
“Say one more word and I'm leaving you here.”
“You can't leave me. I know where your car keys are.”
Kristine tried to look angry.
Instead, she started laughing.
Faceplant No. 6: The Phone Rescue
Andrea suddenly remembered her phone.
It had fallen near a small puddle, its camera still running.
“My phone! I need that video!”
“Forget the phone!”
“It has all our pictures!”
Andrea crawled toward it, carefully placing her hands on the ground.
She was nearly there when one knee slipped sideways.
She tried to catch herself.
Her hands slid forward.
And down she went.
SPLOOOOCH!
Andrea landed face-first beside the phone.
Her jumpsuit was now coated in clay across the entire front, from the collar and chest down through her stomach, hips, thighs, knees, and ankles. Mud streaked the sides of her legs and sleeves, and both white sneakers were almost completely brown.
She picked up the phone with one muddy hand.
The screen showed a video of her falling.
She watched the last few seconds.
Then she began laughing so hard she nearly dropped it again.
“Kristine! I GOT THAT ON VIDEO!”
Kristine stared at her.
“Delete it.”
“Never.”
Faceplant No. 7: The Dramatic Walk
Andrea propped the phone against a rock on stable ground.
“We need a dramatic walk toward the camera.”
Kristine looked at her in disbelief.
“We've fallen six times.”
“Exactly. The audience needs a conclusion.”
They stood side by side.
Their matching black Lululemon jumpsuits were now almost unrecognizable beneath the reddish-brown clay. Their faces were streaked, their hands were muddy, their ponytails were disheveled, and their sneakers were filthy.
They began walking toward the phone.
Kristine took two steps.
Andrea took three.
Kristine slipped and fell forward onto her hands before landing face-first in the mud.
Andrea tried to step around her.
Her foot slid.
She toppled forward beside Kristine.
SPLAT! SPLAT!
The camera recorded both faceplants in perfect detail.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Andrea's voice emerged from the mud.
“That's a wrap.”
Kristine raised her head.
“That's a lawsuit against the ground.”
Faceplant No. 8: The Great Escape
The women finally agreed that it was time to return to the birthday party.
They linked arms and started across the muddy patch toward the firmer path.
“Small steps,” Kristine instructed.
“Tiny steps,” Andrea agreed.
They moved forward cautiously.
Then Andrea's sneaker slid backward.
She grabbed Kristine's arm.
Kristine lost her footing too.
Both women lurched forward and landed face-first in a muddy puddle.
PLOP! PLOP!
Mud splashed across their jumpsuits and sneakers.
Andrea's face was coated from forehead to jaw, while Kristine's cheeks and chin were streaked with thick clay. Their sleeves were soaked, the knees and lower legs of their outfits were heavily stained, and clay clung to the seams and folds of the technical fabric.
Kristine slowly turned her head.
“Eight.”
Andrea blinked.
“Eight what?”
“Faceplants. We're keeping count.”
Andrea thought for a moment.
“That's actually impressive.”
“It's a cry for help.”
Faceplant No. 9: The Last Selfie
By now, the two women were exhausted, muddy, and laughing at their own ridiculous situation.
Andrea insisted on one final selfie.
“One picture. Then we leave.”
Kristine reluctantly agreed.
They stood on a flatter patch of ground, leaned together, and smiled.
Andrea held up the phone.
“Say birthday!”
“BIRTHDAY!”
Kristine noticed a blob of clay on Andrea’s shoulder and reached to brush it away.
Andrea turned at the same moment.
Their heads bumped.
They staggered in opposite directions, tried to regain their balance, and both fell forward.
Kristine landed face-first in the mud.
Andrea followed, landing face-first beside her.
SPLORCH!
Their ninth faceplant was complete.
The selfie camera captured their muddy faces just before they fell, followed by a spectacular close-up of the ground.
Andrea stared at the result.
“Honestly? That's our best picture.”
Kristine wiped clay from her cheek.
“We look like we've been rejected by a pottery studio.”
“An exclusive pottery studio.”
“An expensive one.”
Faceplant No. 10: The Grand Finale
The women were finally approaching the firmer path back to the party when Kristine spotted a grassy patch.
“GRASS!” she shouted. “Actual grass!”
She hurried toward it.
Andrea followed.
Kristine stepped onto the grass, unaware that the ground beneath it was still slippery.
Her feet shot forward.
She landed face-first on the damp grass with a final, magnificent splat.
Andrea attempted to stop, but her sneakers slid too.
She stumbled over Kristine's legs and landed face-first beside her.
SPLOOOOOOCH!
For several seconds, neither woman moved.
Their black Lululemon jumpsuits were covered in reddish-brown clay from head to toe. Mud streaked their shoulders, sleeves, chests, stomachs, hips, thighs, knees, calves, and ankles. Their hands and forearms were caked, their faces were smeared with mud, their ponytails were disheveled, and their white sneakers had turned almost entirely brown.
Their bags were splattered, their clothes were soaked in places, and neither outfit looked remotely like the sleek athletic wear they'd proudly put on that morning.
Kristine slowly turned her head.
“Ten.”
Andrea lifted one muddy finger.
“Ten faceplants.”
Kristine nodded.
“We should get a trophy.”
Andrea began laughing.
Kristine joined in.
Soon they were lying side by side on the grass, laughing so hard that they couldn’t even attempt to stand.
Chapter 4: The Birthday Party Shock
When Kristine and Andrea finally returned to the party, the music was playing, the barbecue was still going, and Melissa was preparing to cut her birthday cake.
The two women appeared at the entrance to the lawn.
The entire party seemed to stop.
Melissa lowered her cake knife.
Someone dropped a paper plate.
A guest holding a drink slowly turned around.
Kristine and Andrea stood there, covered in clay from head to toe, looking like they’d been used as props in a very unfortunate construction project.
Melissa stared at them.
“What happened to you?”
Kristine raised both hands.
“The quarry won.”
Andrea nodded solemnly.
“Ten to zero.”
Melissa looked at their ruined outfits.
“You've been gone for twenty minutes!”
“It's been a very long twenty minutes,” Kristine explained.
Someone spotted Andrea's phone.
“Is that a video?”
Andrea grinned.
“Oh, it's a video.”
Within minutes, the birthday guests had gathered around to watch the footage. They saw Kristine's first fall, Andrea's failed rescue, the repeated attempts to stand up, the disastrous dramatic walk, and the grand finale.
The party erupted in laughter.
Melissa nearly cried watching the tenth faceplant.
“I cannot believe you managed to fall ten times!”
Kristine shook her head.
“Neither can we.”
Andrea looked down at their outfits.
“Our jumpsuits are finished.”
“Your jumpsuits are legendary,” Melissa corrected.
The guests supplied old towels and spare clothes, and someone helped them rinse the thickest clay from their hands and faces with a garden hose. Even after rinsing, their outfits remained stained and muddy, with clay packed into the seams and folds.
The women changed into borrowed sweatshirts and spent the rest of the evening drinking water, eating birthday cake, and listening to their friends replay the video.
Their matching outfits were ruined for the day, their sneakers were filthy, and their reputations had taken a dramatic turn.
But they had given Melissa the most entertaining birthday story of her life.
Chapter 5: The Lululemon Laundromat Reunion
The next morning, Kristine and Andrea met at a laundromat with their jumpsuits packed into separate bags.
Kristine looked exhausted.
Andrea looked delighted.
“I've watched the video twelve times,” Andrea announced.
“Twelve?”
“Thirteen, actually.”
Kristine covered her face.
“Please tell me you haven't sent it to anyone.”
Andrea's silence was answer enough.
“ANDREA!”
“Only the birthday group chat!”
Kristine groaned, then began laughing despite herself.
They loaded their jumpsuits into a washing machine and watched the muddy black fabric tumble behind the glass.
“Do you think they'll survive?” Andrea asked.
Kristine considered the water turning brown.
“Maybe the washing machine will file a complaint.”
Andrea snorted.
“Next time, we're wearing matching raincoats.”
“And waterproof boots.”
“And we're staying away from quarries.”
Kristine nodded.
“Especially after drinking.”
They watched the machine spin for another minute before Andrea pulled out her phone.
“Ready to watch faceplant number ten again?”
Kristine tried to look stern.
She really did.
But when Andrea played the clip of their simultaneous tumble onto the grass, Kristine burst out laughing.
Soon both women were doubled over, reliving every ridiculous moment of the previous day.
They might have lost their pristine outfits, but they'd gained a legendary story, a videotape that would haunt them for years, and another unforgettable memory of their friendship.
And from that day onward, whenever either woman said, “Don't worry, I've got you,” the other would immediately reply:
“Remember the quarry. Ten faceplants. Zero dignity. Never again.”
Until their next adventure, of course.
The end.

Release Date: October 14th 2026
Tags: nb/nb, mud, water, light humiliation

While exploring an abandoned mansion, you meet a mischievous ghost who will stop at nothing to try and get you messy!

Wrote this for a NSFW Halloween Jam. Currently just one chapter but hoping to continue it since I really like the premise!
Leans very silly/playful in nature, not sure if I will make future chapters keep the current tone or maybe make it more lewd~

Play it here!: https://fuzzy-catz.itch.io/the-mischievous-ghost

The Incredibles:Mission Mudslide
The afternoon sun shone over the enormous dried river basin, illuminating its cracked banks, shallow depressions, and wide patches of thick, chocolate-brown mud left behind by the receding water. The air smelled of warm earth and damp clay,and the basin looked like a giant natural playground waiting to be discovered.
Four best friends stood at the top of a gentle slope, surveying the landscape.
Claire, Jessica, Maya, and Erin had coordinated their outfits for a Mrs. Incredible cosplay adventure. Each wore a bright red superhero suit with black sleeves and gloves, black boots,and the familiar yellow-and-black insignia on her chest. Their hair was neatly arranged,their costumes were spotless, and their faces were fresh from the morning's preparations.
They looked ready to step straight onto a comic-book cover.
They had also made one very important decision: today was not going to be about keeping their costumes clean.
"All right," Claire announced, adjusting her gloves. "We get some fantastic photographs,we have a little fun, and we go home looking reasonably recognizable."
Jessica looked down at the basin.
"Reasonably recognizable," she repeated,fighting a grin.
Maya crouched to inspect a dark patch of mud near the slope. She pressed one gloved fingertip into its surface. The crust gave way immediately, revealing a smooth, wet layer underneath.
"Oh, we're going to be unrecognizable,"she said.
Erin laughed. "I brought three towels. Three. I don't know why I thought that would be enough."
"Because you believed in us," Jessica replied.
With that, she took the first step down the slope.
And the afternoon began to unravel.
1. The first footprints
At first, they approached the basin cautiously.
Their black boots pressed into the soft ground, leaving crisp impressions in the damp earth. Each step produced a gentle sucking sound as they lifted their feet free. The mud clung to their soles,forming thin brown rims around the edges.
Claire held her arms out for balance.
"Nobody fall before we get our first photograph."
Jessica turned around and began walking backward, posing with one hand on her hip.
"Relax. I have perfect—"
Her left boot sank into a soft pocket.
She stopped abruptly, looked down,and attempted to pull it free. The mud released her boot with a loud schluuurp,sending her stumbling backward.
Her arms windmilled.
She landed on her backside in a shallow patch.
SPLORCH!
Mud surged around her hips and splattered across the lower half of her red suit. Brown droplets peppered her gloves and streaked the backs of her thighs.
For a moment, she simply sat there,staring at her costume.
Then she looked up.
"That," she said, "was a controlled landing."
Maya covered her mouth.
Claire tried to maintain a serious expression but failed almost immediately.
Erin reached out a hand. "Come on,superhero. Let's get you back on your feet."
Jessica accepted the help, but when Erin pulled, Jessica's muddy boot remained stubbornly stuck. She tugged again, lost her balance, and grabbed Erin around the waist.
Erin's boots slid forward.
Both women toppled sideways.
A second, larger splash sent muddy water across Erin's knees and Jessica's shoulder. Erin landed on one elbow, leaving a thick brown smear across her black sleeve.
Jessica looked at the mark.
Then she looked at Erin.
"You're welcome. Now we're matching."
Erin scooped a little mud from her elbow and flicked it toward Jessica.
It landed directly on Jessica's cheek.
The first proper mud mark of the afternoon had been delivered.
Jessica blinked.
"Oh, it's like that, is it?"
She dipped two fingers into the mud and drew a stripe across Erin's forehead.
The other two began backing away.
Claire pointed at them. "Don't even think about involving me."
Maya smiled sweetly.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
She stepped forward, slipped slightly, and caught herself with both hands in the mud.
Her palms sank into the soft earth.
When she lifted them, her gloves were coated in a thick brown layer.
Everyone stared at her hands.
Maya grinned.
"Oh, this is wonderful."
2. The first face plant
The trouble began with a photograph.
Claire had positioned the others along a low, muddy ridge and instructed them to strike their best superhero poses. She stood several feet away with her phone, checking the composition.
"Chins up. Shoulders back. Look powerful!"
The three women straightened.
Jessica planted her feet wide. Erin placed one fist against her hip. Maya crossed her arms and gave the camera a fierce, determined stare.
"Perfect," Claire said. "Now, on three,everybody take one dramatic step forward."
They counted together.
"One!"
"Two!"
"Three!"
Jessica stepped forward first.
Her right boot slid across the muddy surface instead of gripping it. She pitched forward, tried to catch herself, and landed on both hands.
Her elbows buckled.
Her face followed.
SPLAAAT!
Her forehead, nose, and cheeks plunged into a shallow puddle.
Mud spread outward in a circular ripple. A splash spotted her hair, and brown water ran down the front of her suit.
For one long second, the basin was silent.
Then Jessica slowly raised her head.
Her face had become a muddy mask. Thick clay covered her forehead and cheeks, with a broad brown smear across her nose and chin. Her eyelashes were dotted with tiny droplets,and a clump of mud had settled at her hairline.
She blinked carefully.
"Did you get the photograph?"
Claire was already laughing too hard to answer.
Unfortunately, Jessica's sudden movement had startled Erin, who stepped backward to avoid the splash.
Her boot landed on the exact patch Jessica had just vacated.
Erin slid.
She tried to recover by leaning forward,but her hands shot out and she performed an equally spectacular forward tumble.
FWUMP!
Her face landed in the softer mud beside Jessica’s handprints.
When she lifted her head, the front of her hair was streaked brown, both cheeks were coated,and her chin carried a thick stripe of clay.
She stared at Jessica.
Jessica stared back.
Then both burst out laughing.
"You look like a chocolate pudding advertisement," Jessica managed.
Erin wiped a hand across her face, onlyspreading the mud farther over her cheek.
"You should see yourself!"
Maya was laughing so hard she had to crouch.Claire tried to take a photograph of the twomuddy superheroes, but her shoulders shookso badly that the picture came out crooked.
"Hold still!" she wheezed.
That was when Maya lost her balance.
She dropped onto her knees, plantedboth hands in the mud, and slid forward.Her chest hit the ground with a wetthud, and her cheek brushed the muddysurface as she tried to stop herself.
It wasn't quite as spectacular as Jessica'sor Erin's, but it added broad brown streaksacross her forearms, the front of hercostume, and one side of her face.
Maya pushed herself upright.
She inspected the mess.
Then she deliberately pressed her muddypalms against her cheeks.
"There," she announced. "Now Ilook coordinated."
Claire lowered the phone.
Three muddy superheroes looked ather expectantly.
Claire sighed.
"I hate all of you."
She stepped forward to help them up.
Her boot slid out from beneath her.
SPLOOOCH!
She landed on both knees and one hand,sending a fan of mud across her chestand gloves. Her face stopped just inchesabove the ground.
The others erupted into such wild laughterthat Claire eventually gave up tryingto rise gracefully.
She lowered her forehead into the mud herself.
"If you can't beat them," she muttered,"join them."
When she lifted her head, all four womenwere officially marked by the basin.
Their pristine costumes had acquired theirfirst brown splashes, and the clean, polishedlook of their cosplay had begun to disappear.
Nobody was interested in stopping.
3. The superhero crawl
"Training exercise!" Maya announced.
She pointed toward a broad, shallow stretch ofmud where the ground looked soft but level.
"We crawl across there, stand up at theother side, and pose like we meant to do it."
"That is the worst idea you've had today,"Erin said.
"Thank you."
They lined up.
At first, the crawl was almost orderly.They lowered themselves onto theirhands and knees, careful not to puttoo much weight on any one spot.
The mud immediately began workingits way over their gloves and knees.
Their black gloves turned brown at thefingertips. Their knee panels picked up thicksmears, and every forward movement leftanother muddy impression behind them.
Jessica tried to crawl quickly.
Her left hand slid forward, her rightknee sank into a soft patch, and herbody lurched sideways.
She landed on her shoulder.
Mud splashed across the side of herface, adding a fresh layer to the maskshe already wore.
"Oh, come on!"
She pushed herself upright, only to slipagain when she tried to plant her hand.
This time she ended up on her stomach,her cheek brushing the surface.
Erin crawled past her, giggling.
"Stealth mode!"
Then Erin's right hand sank farther thanexpected. Her elbow dipped, her chestfollowed, and she slid forward until herface pressed into the mud.
She remained there for a moment, apparentlycontemplating her life choices.
Maya stopped beside her.
"Are you all right?"
Erin raised one muddy thumb.
"Never better."
She lifted her head, revealing that the lastclean patches around her jaw and templeshad now acquired broad brown smears.
Maya attempted to crawl around her.
Unfortunately, she chose the same softpatch that had caught Erin.
Her hands sank, her knees slid apart, and shedropped forward onto her forearms. Her chinbrushed the mud, and a fresh splash landed onher collar and the yellow emblem on her chest.
She rolled onto her side, laughing.
Claire, meanwhile, had made excellentprogress and was beginning to feel ratherpleased with herself.
"I would like everyone to notice," sheannounced, "that I am the only onewho has not—"
Jessica reached out to offer her a hand.
Claire grabbed it.
Jessica pulled.
Claire's boot slipped.
They collided in a heap.
Claire landed face-first beside Jessica,while Jessica rolled onto her back witha tremendous muddy splash.
The basin seemed to answer their laughterwith a series of wet squelches as allfour women scrambled around tryingto get back onto their knees.
Their costumes were now thoroughly marked.Brown streaks covered their forearms,shoulders, chests, and thighs. Their gloveswere almost completely brown, and theirboots had become heavy with clinging mud.
Even their hair had begun to change.Loose strands stuck to muddy foreheads,while small flecks dotted their templesand the sides of their heads.
The four friends looked at one another.
Then Maya pointed at Claire.
"You have mud in your eyebrow."
Claire pointed at Erin.
"You have mud in both eyebrows."
Jessica grinned.
"I think we need a group photograph."
They crawled together and leaned theirmuddy heads toward the phone.
The result was glorious.
Four red-suited superheroes, each wearinga different expression of complete disbelief,with mud streaked across their facesand splattered over their costumes.
They immediately saved it as theirgroup-chat photograph.
4. The great head-dunking challenge
By now, the friends had discovered aseries of shallow puddles near the centerof the basin. These were broad, muddydepressions rather than deep pools,with firm ground around the edges.
Maya crouched beside one and studiedher reflection.
"What if we do a superhero transformation?"
Jessica's eyes widened.
"You mean the head-dunking challenge?"
Erin looked at the puddle, then at thethick mud coating her gloves.
"You're all completely out of control."
"And yet," Claire replied, "you're still here."
Erin smiled.
"Obviously."
They agreed on a simple rule: one at a time,each woman would kneel at the puddle'sedge, lower her face into the shallow mud,and rise with the most dramatic superheroexpression she could manage. They wouldkeep it brief, stay in the shallow water, andavoid getting mud into their eyes or mouths.
Jessica volunteered to go first.
She knelt, placed her hands firmly onthe ground, and leaned forward untilher face touched the muddy surface.
A soft glup sounded.
She lifted her head almost immediately.
The effect was remarkable.
A fresh layer of brown mud covered herforehead and cheeks, filling in the remainingpale spaces around her nose and jaw. Herhairline was streaked, and little muddyrivulets ran down the sides of her face.
She stared into the imaginary camera.
"I am vengeance," she declared.
A muddy droplet slid from the end of her nose.
"I am the night."
Another droplet fell.
"I desperately need a shower."
The other three collapsed into laughter.
Erin went next. She knelt beside the puddle,took a breath, and dipped her face intothe shallow mud. She rose with a gasp andpushed her hair away from her forehead.
Her already muddy face now had an evencoating across her cheeks and chin, andthe front strands of her hair were brown.
She tried a fierce expression.
Maya tilted her head.
"You look like a very angry brownie."
Erin scooped up a little mud and dabbeda streak across Maya's cheek.
"Your turn, comedian."
Maya accepted the challenge.
She lowered her face into the puddleand lifted it with a triumphant laugh. Mudcoated her cheeks, chin, and forehead,blending with the streaks already there.She rubbed her palms together, leavingthick brown marks across her gloves.
"Transformation complete!"
Claire went last.
She knelt, leaned forward, and dippedher face into the shallow water.
When she rose, she gave the othersa look of solemn determination.
"Citizens of the basin," she announced,"your hero has returned."
Jessica applauded.
"She has returned considerably muddier."
Claire looked at her own reflection.
"That's called character development."
They repeated the challenge, each trying adifferent pose: dramatic chin lifts, exaggeratedsuperhero scowls, and synchronized headraises. Each brief dip added another layerof mud to their faces and hairlines, whiletheir gloves and sleeves picked up morebrown smears from the puddle's edges.
Soon, their faces were almost entirelybrown, with only their expressions andthe occasional clean glint of an eyedistinguishing one friend from another.
They looked less like pristine cosplay modelsand more like four superheroes who had justsurvived an exceptionally messy adventure.
Which, they agreed, was considerably better.
5. Four spectacular face plants
The final challenge was Jessica's idea.
"We each get one last dramatic landing,"she said. "No graceful little slips. I wantfour legendary face plants."
Claire crossed her arms.
"Why do you keep inventing competitionsthat involve falling over?"
"Because I keep winning."
"You fell over first!"
"And I established the standard."
They selected a broad, shallow patchof soft mud, checked that there wereno hidden rocks or debris, and tookturns making their grand entrances.
Jessica's landing
Jessica ran forward at a playful jog, raisedher arms like a superhero taking flight,and dropped onto her hands and knees.
Her palms slid across the surface.
She pitched forward and landed chest-first with a tremendous splaaash.
Mud fanned outward, coating her shouldersand the front of her costume. She rolledonto one side, leaving a long brownstreak along her sleeve.
When she sat up, she was laughingtoo hard to speak.
"Ten out of ten!" Maya shouted.
Jessica wiped her face with both hands, thenstared at her now thoroughly brown gloves.
"I would like to thank the basin."
Erin's landing
Erin approached with exaggerated caution.
She bent her knees, extended her arms,and attempted a controlled superhero dive.
Unfortunately, her feet slid forward soonerthan expected.
She landed on her forearms and cheek,sending a smaller splash over her face and hair.
She lifted her head, blinking mud fromthe edges of her eyelashes.
Then she deliberately struck a heroicpose from her knees.
"That was choreography."
Claire nodded solemnly.
"Absolutely. Very avant-garde."
Erin threw a muddy handful towardClaire's boots.
Maya's landing
Maya decided to add a spin.
She turned once, took two quick steps,and dropped forward onto her hands.Her palms slid, and she gently toppledonto her side, rolling through the softpatch until she stopped on her back.
Mud spread across her shoulders, sleeves,and the sides of her suit.
She sat up with her hair plastered toher forehead and a grin that could havepowered the entire city.
"Best. Day. Ever."
Claire's landing
Claire insisted on going last.
She stood at the edge of the muddypatch, raised one fist, and delivered adramatic speech about courage, friendship,and the invincibility of superheroes.
Then she took a running step.
Her boot slid.
She pitched forward, caught herselffor half a second, and landed on herstomach with an enormous wet FWLOMP.
Mud splashed across her chest and chin.
She remained still for a moment.
The other three waited.
Slowly, Claire raised her head.
Her face was completely streaked, her hair wasplastered to her forehead, and a thick smearof mud crossed the front of her costume.
She looked directly at Jessica.
"Not. One. Word."
Jessica pressed both hands over her mouth.
Maya turned away, shoulders shaking.
Erin managed to hold it together forapproximately one second before burstinginto laughter.
Claire tried to look offended.
She really did.
But then she started laughing too, andthe four women ended the challenge in atangled, muddy heap, holding on to oneanother as they tried to recover their breath.
6. The final transformation
The sun was beginning to sink towardthe horizon.
They had arrived in immaculate red-and-black costumes, with clean boots, tidyhair, and faces ready for a professional-looking cosplay shoot.
Now their costumes were almost completelymottled brown. The red fabric showedthrough in irregular patches, especiallyacross their backs and shoulders, while theblack gloves and boots were caked with mud.
Their elbows and knees carried thicklayers from crawling. Their sleeves werestreaked from repeated tumbles. Theirhairlines, cheeks, foreheads, and chinswere covered in overlapping brown smearsfrom the face-plant challenge.
They had mud on their costumes, mudon their gloves, mud on their boots, andmuddy footprints stretching in everydirection around them.
Maya stood and surveyed the destruction.
"We look incredible."
Jessica stared at her.
"We look like we lost a fight with a giantchocolate cake."
"A giant chocolate cake that fights dirty,"Erin added.
Claire brushed a muddy strand of hairaway from her face, leaving anotherstreak across her temple.
"One last picture. Everybody together."
They gathered on a relatively firm patchof ground and linked arms. Jessica leanedagainst Maya, Erin put her head on Claire'sshoulder, and Claire raised her chin withas much dignity as she could manage.
The camera timer began counting down.
Three.
Two.
One.
Just before the shutter clicked, Jessicawhispered, "Mud monsters."
All four immediately broke into laughter.
The photograph captured the exact momenttheir heroic poses collapsed: mouths open,shoulders shaking, mud-covered facespressed together, and their once-pristinesuperhero costumes thoroughly trashed.
It became their favorite photographof the entire year.
Afterward, they made their way towardthe clean towels and spare clothes theyhad brought along, careful to rinse offat an appropriate washing area beforeheading home. They spent the next twentyminutes comparing muddy sleeves,examining the spectacular streaks acrosstheir costumes, and debating which faceplant deserved a place in the hall of fame.
Jessica maintained that hers had beenthe most dramatic.
Erin argued that hers had been the funniest.
Maya insisted that her rolling landingshould count as two separate events.
Claire simply showed everyone the photographof her own spectacular final tumble.
The argument ended immediately.
"Oh, that's unfair," Jessica said. "You looklike you were swallowed by the entire river."
Claire smiled triumphantly.
"Experience, ladies."
They packed up their muddy costumes,gathered their towels, and headed backtoward the car, still laughing and alreadyplanning their next adventure.
Four best friends had arrived as immaculateMrs. Incredible cosplayers.
They were leaving as the undisputedchampions of the muddiest superherophoto shoot in history.
And the best part?
They had hundreds of photographs to prove it.

The afternoon sun hung low over the driedriver basin, illuminating a vast stretch of cracked earth, shallow pools, and treacherous patches of dark, sticky mudleft behind by the previous night's rain.
Four best friends stood at the basin'sedge, dressed as Catwoman in sleek blackcosplay outfits, complete with pointedears, gloves, boots, and sweeping tails.
Maya adjusted her mask. “Ladies, welcometo our highly professional training exercise.”
“Which consists of what, exactly?”Sophie asked.
“Stealth, agility, and feline balance.”
Jenna glanced down at the glistening mud. “You forgot common sense.”
Rachel grinned. “Common sense isn'tpart of the costume.”
They should have known that was the moment everything would go wrong.
Maya took the first step onto what appeared to be firm ground. Her boot sank several inches.
“Oh,” she said.
The ground made a wet, sucking noise.
“Oh, that's not—”
SPLAT!
Maya pitched forward and landed face-first in a broad patch of mud. Her boots kicked up behind her as a dark splash spread across her costume, coatingher ears, mask, shoulders, and back.
For one astonished second, the other three stared.
Then Sophie laughed so hard she stumbled backward into Jenna.
Jenna tried to catch her, planted a boot inthe same deceptive patch, and promptly performed an inelegant dive of her own.
SPLOOOCH!
She landed beside Maya with mud splashingover her entire front.
Rachel doubled over laughing. “Thestealth! The agility!”
Then the ground beneath Rachel's bootsgave way.
She disappeared to her knees with astartled squeal before toppling forward,landing in a spectacular faceplant that sent mud flying in every direction.
Sophie was the last one standing.
She looked at the three muddy Cat women sprawled across the riverbed.
“I'm surrounded by amateurs.”
A faint sucking sound came from beneathher left boot.
Her smile vanished.
“Oh, no.”
She windmilled her arms, attempted aheroic recovery, and landed flat on herstomach with a tremendous FWUMP.
For several seconds, the only sound wasfour women laughing helplessly in the mud.
When they finally raised their heads, theirmasks and pointed ears were streaked brown. Mud covered their cheeks, gloves,shoulders, and glossy black outfits.Their boots were caked so thoroughly that every attempt to stand seemedto glue them back to the riverbed.
Maya wiped a muddy hand across her face, accomplishing absolutely nothing.
“New rule,” she announced. “Nobody laughs at anyone else's fall.”
“You fell first,” Sophie reminded her.
“New rule has been canceled.”
The Great Catwoman Mud War
Once they regained their feet, the four friends discovered that the basin contained several shallow depressions filled withsoft, chocolate-brown mud.
Rachel crouched beside one and pokedit with a gloved finger.
“Look at that. Practically a spa treatment.”
Jenna scooped up a handful.
“Rachel, don't you dare.”
Rachel's eyes widened.
Jenna grinned.
The first handful struck Rachel squarely across the chest.
Rachel gasped in theatrical outrage. “You have declared war on the Catwoman sisterhood!”
She retaliated with a sweeping throw that caught Jenna across the shoulder and splattered mud up the side of her cowl.
Within moments, all four were flinging muddy handfuls, dodging, slipping, and collapsing into fresh patches of muck.
Maya tried a dramatic sideways leap worthyof a superhero movie. Her landing lasted approximately half a second before both boots shot forward and she dropped backward into the mud.
Sophie attempted to vault over her.
She cleared Maya perfectly.
Unfortunately, she landed in a puddle.
A great brown wave rose around her, splashing over her costume and spattering mud across her face. She emerged blinking, with two pointed ears drooping at ridiculous angles.
Rachel laughed so hard that she lost her footing and slid down a muddy slopeon her backside.
“I'm not moving!” Rachel announced from the bottom.
“You're literally sliding!” Jenna shouted.
“I've accepted my fate!”
Jenna hurried down to help her, only to slip herself. The two wound up sprawled together, completely coated in mud from their boots to the tops of their cowls.
Maya and Sophie approached tooffer assistance.
Both stopped.
Both looked at the slippery slope.
Both looked at each other.
“Absolutely not,” Sophie declared.
Maya nodded solemnly.
Then they stepped onto the slope atthe same time.
WHUMP. SPLAT. SPLOOSH.
Four Catwomen lay in a heap at the bottom, their black costumes transformed into muddy brown disguises.
The Head-Dunking Challenge
By now, their outfits were covered from head totoe in thick mud. Even their gloves, masks, and pointed ears were caked, and every movement produced another ridiculous squelch.
Rachel sat up and surveyed the damage.
“We need a finale.”
Sophie pointed toward a shallow muddyhollow nearby.
“Head-dunking contest.”
Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Are we eightyears old?”
“Emotionally? Today, yes.”
They agreed to a safer variation: kneeling in the shallow mud and dunking their masked heads forward into the soft surface,one at a time, while the others counted.
Maya went first.
She leaned forward, pressed her maskedface into the mud, and lifted her head again.
A thick layer of muck covered her mask,cheeks, and pointed ears.
“Seven out of ten,” Rachel judged. “Excellent commitment. Weak landing.”
“Fine,” Maya replied. “Watch a professional.”
Sophie took her turn, only to misjudge how far forward she needed to lean. She tipped overonto her hands and knees with a tremendous splat, burying the front of her cowl in the mud.
Jenna counted dramatically.
“Ten! Ten! A perfect score for the most accidental maneuver in Catwoman history!”
Rachel went next, attempting a graceful dip that ended with her sliding forward and planting both hands in the muck.
Maya applauded.
Rachel lifted her head. “I meant to do that.”
“Of course you did,” Sophie said.
Jenna's turn produced the grand finale.She leaned forward confidently, dunked her masked face, and pushed herself upright—only to discover that one boot-had become thoroughly stuck.
She tugged once.
Nothing.
She tugged again.
Her boot came free with an enormous sucking pop, throwing a fan of mud across all three friends.
Silence.
Then Maya slowly wiped a muddy streak from her mask.
“Jenna.”
“Yes?”
“You have achieved legendary status.”
The resulting laughter was so uncontrollable that all four ended up back in the mud,collapsing into fresh faceplants ands ending splashes across the basin.
Four Mud-Covered Supervillains
By the time the sun began to set, theCatwomen had become practically unrecognizable.
Their costumes were coated in mud. Theirgloves were brown, their boots were heavy with muck, their masks were streaked,and their once-pristine pointed ears drooped beneath thick layers of sludge.
Maya stood and struck a heroic pose.
“I am the terror of the riverbed.”
She took one step.
Her boot stuck.
She toppled forward.
SPLAT.
Rachel immediately dropped beside her,laughing. Sophie followed, pretending to-perform a dramatic rescue, and Jenna’s tumbled into the entire pile.
Another four-way faceplant.
When they finally managed to sit upright,they looked like four mischievous swamp creatures who had robbed a costume shop.
Sophie pulled a muddy strand of hairfrom her face.
“So, same time next weekend?”
Jenna stared at her.
Rachel shook her head.
Maya raised one mud-covered hand.
“Obviously.”
They linked arms and began trudging toward the riverbank, leaving a trail ofmuddy footprints behind them. Everyfew steps, somebody slipped, somebody laughed, and somebody else nearlywent down trying to help.
Their grand entrance into the world of feline crime fighting had been an absolute disaster.
But as far as the four best friends were concerned, it had been purr-fect.

he four best friends—Mia, Sophie, Jess,and Chloe, all adults—stood at the edge ofthe enormous dried river basin, surveying alandscape of cracked clay, soft mud pockets,and shallow puddles left by recent rain.
They had dressed alike for their adventurein schoolgirl-inspired outfits: crisp whiteblouses, pleated skirts, striped knee-highsocks, and loose ties. Their clothes werespotless, their shoes were clean, and eachhad confidently declared that she wouldbe the last one to get completely filthy.
That confidence was about to disappear.
Jess crouched beside a patch of dark,soft mud and poked it with a stick.
“Look at that. Perfect diving mud.”
Mia folded her arms. “You mean perfectfalling mud.”
“Same thing!”
Sophie laughed. “Well, if you're so confident,why don't you demonstrate?”
Jess didn't need to be asked twice.
She took three quick running steps,launched herself forward, and landedbelly-first in the soft clay.
SPLAAAT!
Mud burst outward in a broad fan. Her legskicked up behind her, and a thick brown splashspotted the front of her blouse and skirt.
For a moment, she lay motionless, stunnedby the sheer mess she'd made.
Then she raised her head.
“THAT WAS AMAZING!”
Chloe doubled over laughing. “Your face!”
Jess wiped a streak of mud from herforehead, leaving an even bigger smearacross her cheek.
“Right. You're next.”
“Absolutely not!”
Chloe turned to run, but her shoe sank into asoft patch. She stumbled, windmilled her arms,and pitched forward onto her hands and knees.
Splorch!
She stared at the muddy ground beneathher palms.
Jess grinned.
“Two down. Two to go.”
“No, no, no!” Chloe protested, laughingas she tried to stand. “I slipped!”
“Of course you did.”
Mia and Sophie exchanged a look.
Then, without saying a word, both sprintedtoward the biggest muddy patch in the basin.
Round One: The Flying Face-Plants
Sophie reached the mud first. She plantedher feet, bent her knees, and threwherself forward in a dramatic dive.
Her hands struck the clay, followed byher elbows and chest, sending a waveof muddy water toward the bank.
Mia followed immediately behind her.
She tried to leap over Sophie's legs,misjudged the distance, and landed besideher with a spectacular sideways splat.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Mia lifted her head, her hair hangingin muddy strands around her face.
“I meant to do that.”
Sophie snorted. “Of course you did.”
Jess and Chloe applauded from the sidelines.
“Ten out of ten for enthusiasm!” Jess called.
“Two out of ten for technique!” Chloe added.
Mia scooped up a handful of mud.
“Come over here and say that.”
Chloe backed away.
“I'm perfectly happy over here, thank you.”
Jess, however, charged straight towardthe pair lying in the mud. She droppedinto a low slide, gliding across the slipperysurface until she bumped gently into Sophie.
The resulting splash covered all threefriends in fresh streaks of brown.
Mia scrambled upright, laughing sohard she could barely breathe.
“Everybody in! Nobody gets to stay clean!”
That became the official rule of the afternoon.
Round Two: The Muddy Relay
They divided themselves into two teams:Mia and Sophie against Jess and Chloe.
The challenge was simple. Each pairhad to run from the cracked riverbankto the central mud patch, perform themost ridiculous safe belly-flop they couldmanage, and crawl back to the starting line.
Jess went first.
She sprinted across the basin, slid ontoher stomach, and sent a low wave of mudrolling ahead of her. She rolled onto herback at the end of the slide, laughing asmuddy water soaked her skirt and socks.
Chloe followed with an exaggeratedsuperhero dive, arms stretched in front of her.
Her landing was less graceful.
PLOOOSH!
She disappeared behind a curtain of splatter,then emerged with a triumphant grin.
“Beat that!”
Mia took a running start. She launched herselfforward and landed flat in the shallow mud,producing a satisfying, squelchy splash.
Sophie clapped enthusiastically.
“Beautiful form! Terrible landing!”
“Your turn, coach!”
Sophie ran toward the mud patch, jumped, andlanded in a sprawling star shape. Mud splashedover her sleeves, cheeks, and pleated skirt.
She remained spread-eagled for a moment,staring at the sky.
“I think I won.”
“You absolutely did not,” Jess declared.
They repeated the relay until all fourwere exhausted, their outfits thoroughlystained and their original claims of stayingclean long forgotten.
Round Three: TheGreat Mud Ambush
By now, the friends had discovered that thebasin contained several different kinds of mud.
There was thick clay that clung to everything,watery mud that produced enormoussplashes, and slippery patches that madeeven walking look like a comedy routine.
Mia found the slipperiest patch of all.
She stood in its center and beckonedthe others forward.
“Come on. It's perfectly safe!”
Sophie narrowed her eyes.
“That sentence has never precededanything good.”
Jess charged forward anyway.
Mia stepped aside at the last second, andJess slid into the soft mud with a huge splash.
Chloe followed too quickly to stop andlanded beside her.
Sophie attempted to avoid them both,only to lose her footing and drop ontoher knees in the same muddy hollow.
Mia laughed triumphantly.
“Three!”
Unfortunately for Mia, she was standingon a patch of loose clay herself.
Her feet slipped apart, her arms flewupward, and she landed backward witha tremendous splorch.
Jess raised one muddy hand.
“Four!”
They erupted into laughter.
Soon they were chasing each other betweenthe muddy hollows, staging ridiculousambushes, and flopping onto the softground whenever someone shouted, “DIVE!”
Some dives were elegant. Others involvedspectacularly misplaced feet, accidentalsideways slides, and landings that sentmud flying in every direction.
Every time one of them managed towipe a little mud from her face, someoneelse inevitably splashed another streakacross her cheek.
By the end of the round, even their tieswere muddy, their white socks werebrown, and their hair had become atangled collection of wet strands.
Chloe inspected her reflection in ashallow puddle.
“I don't think this uniform was designedfor riverbed athletics.”
“Really?” Sophie said, pointing to her ownmuddy sleeves. “I think it performs beautifully.”
The Final Dive
As the afternoon sun began to sink,Jess spotted one last broad patch ofsoft mud near the center of the basin.
She turned toward the others with amischievous smile.
“One final challenge.”
Mia groaned theatrically. “We canbarely stand.”
“Exactly. Nobody expects us to haveany energy left.”
Chloe studied the muddy patch. “Whatare the rules?”
“All four of us run together, jump together,and land together.”
Sophie grinned. “Now that's a terrible idea.”
“Which means it's perfect,” Mia replied.
They lined up shoulder to shoulder.
“One!”
They bent their knees.
“Two!”
They leaned forward.
“THREE!”
All four sprinted toward the muddy hollow.
Jess jumped first, followed by Mia, Sophie, andChloe. Their overlapping landings sent muddywater splashing outward in four directions.
SPLAAAASH!
For a moment, the entire basin seemedto erupt around them.
When the muddy spray settled, fourthoroughly filthy friends lay sprawledin the shallows, laughing helplessly.
Jess raised one arm.
“Teamwork!”
Mia rolled onto her side. “I think wejust invented a sport.”
Sophie pushed muddy hair out of hereyes. “It's called falling over.”
“Professional falling over,” Chloe corrected.
They spent the next few minutes takingturns attempting the silliest possible finalslides, each one ending in another burstof laughter and another layer of mud.
Finally, they admitted defeat.
Their once-white blouses were streakedbrown. Their pleated skirts were splatteredfrom hem to waistband. Their striped sockswere almost entirely the color of the riverbed.Even their faces bore muddy smudgesthat made them look like four mischievousexplorers returning from an expedition.
Jess surveyed the group proudly.
“Mission accomplished.”
Mia pointed at her. “You have mud onyour nose.”
Jess pointed back. “You have mud in your hair.”
Chloe inspected Sophie. “And you'vegot a leaf stuck to your sleeve.”
Sophie looked down.
“That's my medal.”
The four friends dissolved into laughterone last time before carefully makingtheir way toward the riverbank, wherethey'd left their towels and clean clothes.
Behind them, the muddy basin lay quietagain, marked by four sets of footprints,long sliding trails, and an impressivecollection of splatter patterns.
They had arrived determined not to get dirty.
They left looking as though they'd triedto become part of the landscape.
And before they reached the path, Jesswas already planning the rematch.

PS NOT AI JUST NOT VERY GOODWITH MY COMPUTER NO PROOFREAD

Sophie, Maya, Jasmine, and Chloe—allfour adult best friends—had made oneenormous mistake: they had declaredtheir savory food fight finished beforeChloe revealed the final table.
It was covered with enormous bowls ofmashed potatoes, cooked spaghetti,thick gravy, mushy peas, tomato sauce,and creamy cheese sauce.
Maya stared at the spread.
“Chloe, please tell me that isn't whatI think it is.”
Chloe grinned and handed everyonea plastic apron.
“Welcome to the Grand Championshipof Glorious Sloppiness!”
Jasmine burst out laughing. “We'renever getting invited to a respectabledinner party again.”
“Respectable dinner parties are overrated,”Sophie declared.
Round one: The mashed-potato avalanche
The first challenge involved decoratingtheir own aprons with mashed potatoes,then creating the most ridiculous food-themed costume imaginable.
Sophie scooped up a huge dollop and ploppedit onto her apron. It landed with a satisfyingplop, spreading into a lumpy white mound.
“Introducing the latest fashion trend!”she announced. “The potato poncho!”
Maya responded by piling mashed potatoesonto her own apron and adding a fewstrands of spaghetti for decoration.
“Mine is haute cuisine.”
“Yours is a plate of leftovers,” Jasmine said.
Chloe was too busy laughing to defendher creation. She had managed to smearmashed potatoes across one sleeve andwas attempting to make a decorativespiral with tomato sauce.
Unfortunately, the sauce came out ina wobbly squiggle.
“It's abstract art!” Chloe insisted.
“It's a kitchen accident!” Sophie countered.
The four friends laughed so hard thatthey had to put their bowls down.
Round two: Spaghetti everywhere
Next came the spaghetti challenge.
Four enormous bowls of cooked spaghettisat on the table, accompanied by tomatosauce and grated cheese.
The contestants had sixty seconds tocreate the most ridiculous spaghettisculpture on their own aprons.
Jasmine went first, draping strandsacross her apron like a dramatic sash.
Maya fashioned a spaghetti crown andbowed to the others.
“Your queen has arrived!”
Sophie added a spoonful of tomatosauce to her apron, while Chloe carefullyarranged spaghetti into what she claimedwas a five-star restaurant logo.
Maya inspected it.
“Is that supposed to be a tomato?”
“It's a culinary masterpiece.”
“It looks like a startled octopus.”
Chloe folded her arms. “You clearlydon't understand modern cuisine.”
Then the timer sounded, and all fourcontestants had to present their creations.Unfortunately, the spaghetti began sliding offtheir aprons before the judging even started.
The entire judging panel—consisting of the fourwomen themselves—collapsed into laughter.
Round three: The great gravy pour
Chloe unveiled the next challenge: alineup of bowls filled with thick, cooledgravy and creamy cheese sauce.
“Everyone gets one bowl,” she announced.“You have to pour it over your own apronin the most theatrical way possible.”
Sophie raised an eyebrow.
“Why do I feel like you've been planningthis for weeks?”
“Because I have.”
They lined up behind the table.
“Three!”
Maya struck a dramatic pose.
“Two!”
Jasmine closed her eyes as thoughpreparing for a championship performance.
“One!”
All four tipped their bowls over their aprons.
The sauces slid downward in thick ribbons,mixing with the mashed potatoes andtomato sauce already decorating the fabric.
Sophie looked down at herself.
“I have become a walking casserole.”
Maya pointed at her. “A veryexpensive casserole.”
Jasmine attempted a graceful bow, buther apron made a loud, squelchy sound.
Chloe nearly fell over laughing.
“Ten points for sound effects!”
Round four: The ultimatesavory slop challenge
By now, the table looked like a food festivalhad collided with a cooking competition. Therewere bowls of mushy peas, more mashedpotatoes, cooked pasta, and plenty of sauce.
The final challenge was to create themessiest food-themed costume withoutwasting the ingredients.
Each woman selected a small bowl of foodand carefully added it to her own apron.
Sophie chose mushy peas and decoratedher apron with green blobs.
Maya opted for spaghetti and tomato sauce.
Jasmine used mashed potatoes and gravy.
Chloe combined everything into an outrageousculinary collage.
They stood in a line to reveal their results.
Sophie looked like a garden-themed casserole.
Maya resembled a walking plate of spaghetti.
Jasmine had become amashed-potato masterpiece.
And Chloe's creation looked like a buffetthat had somehow acquired legs.
The four friends stared at one another.
Then Maya whispered, “We should absolutelynever be allowed near a catering company.”
They burst into laughter so loud that afew birds flew out of the nearby trees.
The grand finale: Fourvery messy champions
For their last photograph, the womenstood behind the table in their food-covered aprons, holding their emptybowls like championship trophies.
“Who won?” Jasmine asked.
Sophie considered the question.
“Clearly, the food.”
Maya nodded solemnly. “It defeatedall four of us.”
Chloe lifted her bowl. “To friendship,questionable judgment, and the world'smessiest party!”
They clinked their bowls together.
Afterward, the friends scraped leftoverfood into the proper waste containers,wiped down the tables, and headed to thecleanup station to change and wash up.
Maya glanced back at the clearing.
“So, next weekend?”
“Absolutely not,” Sophie replied.
“Maybe a little cake?” Jasmine suggested.
Chloe stopped walking.
Everyone stared at her.
She slowly raised both hands.
“Fine. No cake.”
A beat passed.
“But what about pudding?”
The other three groaned as Chloe sprintedtoward the parking area, laughing.
And just like that, the planning for theirnext ridiculous adventure had begun.

The following Saturday, Sophie, Maya,Jasmine, and Chloe returned to their favoriteparty spot for another ridiculous competition.All four adult best friends wore colorful,school-uniform-inspired outfits with pleatedskirts, button-up shirts, and knee-high socks.
This time, however, the muddy clearing hadbeen transformed into a dessert battlefield.
A long table stood beneath the trees, piledhigh with chocolate cake, whipped creampies, bowls of chocolate sauce, pitchers ofvanilla custard, and several large buckets filledwith brightly colored, non-toxic party slime.
Chloe surveyed the spread with a wicked grin.
“I have a feeling we're going to needmore than one shower today.”
Maya picked up a chocolate pie andheld it like a trophy.
“Ladies, let the dessert disaster begin!”
Round one: The pie fight
Jasmine barely had time to turn aroundbefore Maya gently pressed a whipped-cream pie into her face.
PLOOF!
Jasmine stood perfectly still, creamcovering her nose and cheeks.
Everyone waited.
Then Jasmine slowly wiped a little creamfrom her eyebrow and smiled.
“Oh, Maya. You've made a terrible mistake.”
She grabbed a pie of her own and chasedMaya around the table. Maya dodgedbehind Sophie, who promptly became theunintended target of Jasmine's next throw.
Within moments, all four friends werelaughing and tossing whipped-cream piesat one another. Cream decorated theirshirts and shoulders, while chocolatefrosting streaked their sleeves and skirts.
Chloe tried to sneak a pie attack on Sophie,but Sophie spotted her at the last second.
They both ducked.
The pie sailed harmlessly past them andlanded squarely on a stack of napkins.
“Terrible aim!” Maya shouted.
“Strategic warning shot!” Chloe insisted.
Round two: Chocolate and custard
Next came the chocolate challenge.
Four large bowls of chocolate saucewaited on the table, accompanied bypitchers of thick vanilla custard.
Sophie dipped a spoon into the chocolate andpainted a little stripe across her own cheek.
“Behold,” she announced, “the heightof dessert fashion.”
Jasmine burst out laughing.
“That look is definitely going to be onthe cover of a magazine.”
Maya picked up a small pitcher of chocolatesauce and poured a ribbon over her ownshoulders, carefully avoiding her face.The chocolate trickled down the frontof her shirt, leaving a glossy brown trail.
“Your turn!” she challenged Chloe.
Chloe grabbed a pitcher of custard and poureda little over her own shoulders, laughing asthe creamy mixture dripped onto her outfit.
Soon, all four were experimenting with sillydessert-themed poses. Sophie declaredherself the Chocolate Queen, Jasminebecame the Custard Champion, and Mayaand Chloe argued over who deservedthe title of Supreme Dessert Disaster.
Then Jasmine raised a spoon.
“Dessert toast!”
They clinked their spoons together anddissolved into laughter.
Round three: Themystery-goo challenge
At the far end of the clearing stood fourbuckets of colorful, washable party slime.The goo was made from a skin-safe partymixture, and the friends had broughtclean water and towels for afterward.
Chloe rubbed her hands together.
“Now we're getting serious.”
Maya peered into a bucket of brightpurple slime.
“Why does that look like somethingfrom an alien movie?”
“Because,” Sophie replied, “we're aboutto become the aliens.”
The challenge was to scoop up the gooand pour it over their own shoulders,arms, and backs without laughing.
Jasmine went first. She lifted a scoop ofpurple slime and tipped it over her shoulders.
The goo slid down her shirt in a slow,wobbly cascade.
She maintained a perfectly straightface for approximately two seconds.
Then Maya made an exaggerated alien noise.
Jasmine burst out laughing, disqualifyingherself immediately.
Chloe went next with a bucket of greenslime. She poured it over her own shoulders,then struck a dramatic superhero pose.
“I am the defender of the dessert galaxy!”
Sophie applauded.
“Your powers are disgusting!”
For the grand finale, all four friends stoodin a row and tipped small buckets of slimeover their own shoulders at the same time.
SPLORP! SPLAT! SPLORCH!
Purple, green, pink, and blue slime slidover their clothes as the women shriekedwith laughter.
Nobody managed to keep a straight face.
The grand finale
By late afternoon, the table was a disasterzone of empty pie tins, chocolate smears,custard bowls, and colorful slime. The fourfriends gathered for one last photograph,posing like glamorous contestants inthe world's messiest cooking show.
Maya held up a spoon.
“To friendship!”
Jasmine raised a chocolate-covered pie tin.
“To terrible ideas!”
Chloe lifted a bucket of purple slime.
“And to never letting any of us organizea party again!”
Sophie laughed.
“Absolutely. Same time next weekend?”
The other three groaned theatrically,but their smiles gave them away.
They cleaned up using the washing stationthey'd prepared, changed into fresh clothes,and headed off to find a proper dinner.
The dessert battle had been acomplete disaster.The Sorority Dessert Disaster:Cake-Sitting Championship
The next round of the party was Chloe'sidea, which immediately made the otherthree suspicious.
She stood beside a long table carryingfour enormous chocolate cakes, eachdecorated with swirls of frosting, sprinkles,and colorful icing.
“Ladies,” she announced, “welcome tothe Great Cake-Sitting Championship!”
Maya stared at the cakes. “I have severalquestions, and I suspect I won't likeany of the answers.”
“Simple rules,” Chloe explained. “We eachget a chair, a ridiculous cake-themedchallenge, and one chance to becomethe reigning queen of dessert chaos.”
Sophie burst out laughing. “This is goingto be an absolute disaster.”
“Exactly!” Jasmine replied.
Round one: The frosting throne
Four sturdy chairs stood in the clearing, eachwith a large tray holding a soft, oversizedcake made especially for the party game.
The women wore their colorful, school-uniform-inspired outfits, now freshlychanged after the earlier slime challenge.
“Ready?” Chloe called.
The others took their places.
At the signal, each woman carefully satdown onto her own cake tray, crushingthe soft frosting and sending fluffy icingspilling over the edges.
SQUISH!
Maya looked down at the chocolate frostingspread across her lap and began laughing.
“I can't believe I agreed to this!”
Sophie pointed at her. “You're the one whosaid we needed a more sophisticated party.”
“I meant fancy cocktails!”
Jasmine had somehow managed to get alarge swirl of pink frosting on her sleeve.She held it up like an exhibit in a courtroom.
“Exhibit A: the destruction of a perfectlygood outfit.”
Chloe nodded gravely. “A tragedy for the ages.”
Then she accidentally leaned againsther own cake tray and produced anenormous frosting squelch.
Everyone lost it.
Round two: The cake-chair contest
For the next challenge, each womanreceived a fresh tray of soft spongecake topped with whipped cream.
The objective was to sit down carefully, standup, and reveal the funniest frosting pattern.
Sophie went first. She lowered herselfonto her cake, stood up, and turnedaround to inspect the result.
The frosting had formed a ridiculousswirl across the back of her skirt.
Jasmine laughed so hard she had tohold the table.
“That's not a cake pattern. That's modern art!”
Maya's turn produced an even morespectacular mess. She sat down with atheatrical flourish, stood up, and discoveredthat whipped cream had spread acrossthe entire seat of her skirt.
She bowed to the imaginary audience.
“I call this masterpiece The TragicVanilla Incident.”
Chloe applauded.
“Very moving. I nearly cried.”
When Jasmine took her turn, she attemptedto look dignified throughout the entirechallenge. Unfortunately, the soft cakeslid slightly on its tray, and she had tograb the table to steady herself.
Her dignified expressiondisappeared immediately.
“Do not laugh,” she warned.
The other three were already howling.
Round three: Chocolate-cake chaos
Chloe unveiled the grand finale: a giantchocolate cake divided into four generousportions, each covered in glossychocolate frosting.
“Ladies,” she announced, “this is thechampionship round.”
Maya eyed the cake suspiciously.
“Does this involve another chair?”
“Obviously.”
They each received a sturdy seat with aprepared cake tray. At Chloe's signal, theysat down onto the soft cakes, sendingchocolate frosting squishing outward.
Sophie threw her hands up triumphantly.
“Chocolate queen!”
Maya responded by striking a dramatic pose.
“Vanilla may have its fans, but chocolaterules this kingdom!”
Jasmine dabbed a little frosting onMaya's nose.
“Long live the queen.”
Maya gasped and retaliated with a tinydab of frosting on Jasmine's cheek.
Within seconds, all four were giggling,decorating one another's cheeks with littleswirls of icing and inventing increasinglyridiculous royal titles.
Chloe crowned herself Empress of theCake Kingdom.
Sophie declared herself Minister of Sprinkles.
Jasmine became Duchess of Chocolate.
Maya insisted on being Queen of Everything.
“No,” Chloe said firmly. “You can beQueen of Everything Except the Sprinkles.Sophie already has that department.”
The argument became so absurd that none ofthem could finish a sentence without laughing.
The final score
By the end of the competition, the chairsand trays were covered in frosting, the tablelooked like a bakery explosion, and thefour friends were still debating the results.
Sophie held up a paper napkin like aroyal decree.
“After careful consideration, I declareus all winners.”
“Convenient,” Jasmine replied. “Especiallysince you were the judge.”
“An independent judge,” Sophie insisted.
Maya folded her arms.
“I demand a recount.”
Chloe shook her head. “The committee hasadjourned. The cake kingdom is closed.”
They finally headed to the cleanup station,still laughing about the ridiculous frostingpatterns and the increasingly elaboratetitles they'd awarded one another.
As they changed into clean clothes, Mayaglanced back at the empty cake trays.
“So, what are we doing next weekend?”
All three friends answered at once.
“No more cake!”
Maya grinned.
“Right. Pie, then.”
The chorus of groans could probably be heard all the way through the forest.

The four best friends—Sophie, Maya, Jasmine,and Chloe—stood together in the woodland clearing, staring at the ridiculous mess they'dmade of themselves. Their school-uniform-inspired outfits were coated in dark brownmud, their pleated skirts were splattered,and their shirts were streaked with clay.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Jasmine burst out laughing.
“Honestly, we look like we lost a fightwith a swamp!”
“We haven't lost yet,” Maya replied, reachingfor another bucket. “The competitionisn't over.”
Sophie narrowed her eyes playfully.“Oh, you're going to regret saying that.”
The bucket brigade
The friends had brought several sturdyplastic buckets for their muddy games.They lined them up beside a shallow,stable patch of clay and began filling them.
Chloe appointed herself the officialreferee, although she was clearly biased.
“Contestant one: Sophie! Contestant two:Maya! Contestant three: Jasmine! Contestantfour: me, because I'm obviously the prettiest.”
“That's not how refereeing works!”Sophie protested.
“I'm making the rules,” Chloe replied.
The first challenge was simple: eachwoman had to pour a bucket of mudover her own shoulders while the othersrated her performance.
Sophie went first. She lifted her bucketand tipped it slowly. A heavy cascadeof dark clay slid over her shoulders anddown the front of her shirt, leaving freshstreaks across the fabric.
She spread her arms dramatically.
“Behold! The queen of the mud!”
Maya gave her an exaggeratedlyserious appraisal.
“Excellent volume. Good coverage. Terribleposture. Eight out of ten.”
Sophie bowed, sending a few dropsof mud flying.
Next came Jasmine. She raised her bucketabove shoulder level and poured itscontents over herself in one spectacularmotion. The mud splashed across herupper body and dripped down her sleeves.
Chloe clapped enthusiastically.
“Nine out of ten! Excellent commitment!”
“Thank you. I trained for this momentmy entire life,” Jasmine replied.
Maya's turn was even more theatrical.She counted down from three, tipped herbucket, and spun around as the mud slidacross her shoulders. When she finished,she struck a pose like a fashion model.
“Ten out of ten,” Chloe declared. “No notes.”
Finally, Chloe stepped forward witha mischievous smile.
“Ladies, prepare yourselves for a masterclass.”
She tipped her bucket over her ownshoulders, then deliberately stompedinto a shallow puddle, sending a fanof muddy water toward the others.
The splash caught all three friends acrosstheir outfits.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“CHLOE!”
She took off running.
The great mud chase
Chloe raced around the edge of the basin,laughing as Sophie and Maya pursued her.Jasmine attempted to intercept her, butChloe ducked around her at the last second.
“She's too fast!” Maya shouted.
“Cut her off!” Sophie called.
Jasmine stepped sideways, blocking thenarrow path between two muddy patches.Chloe skidded to a stop, laughing breathlessly.
“Wait. Can we negotiate?”
“Nope,” Jasmine replied.
The three friends surrounded her, eachholding a bucket.
Chloe looked from one face to another.
“You wouldn't dare.”
Sophie smiled sweetly.
“Oh, we absolutely would.”
The buckets tipped almost simultaneously,showering Chloe's shoulders and backwith fresh mud. She squealed and spunaround, trying to escape the last splash.
“That's betrayal! All three of you!”
“It's called teamwork,” Maya replied.
Chloe grabbed an empty bucket andpointed it at them.
“Fine. No mercy!”
The chase resumed, with all four womenslipping around the shallow basin, splashingpuddles, and laughing so hard theycould barely run in straight lines.
Eventually, they agreed to a truce—but only because everyone neededa moment to catch their breath.
The muddy wrestling tournament
“Now,” Jasmine announced, brushinga smear of clay from her cheek, “weneed a proper championship round.”
Sophie folded her arms. “What sortof championship?”
“Friendly wrestling. Two teams. Best of three.”
Maya immediately volunteered herselfand Chloe as a team.
Sophie looked at Jasmine.
“Looks like it's us against them.”
Jasmine grinned. “Let's make it interesting.”
They divided the shallow, soft area intotwo imaginary rings. Chloe insisted onintroducing each competitor with elaborateannouncements, while Maya performeda ridiculous victory dance before thematch had even begun.
The first round was a balance challenge.Each pair had to remain standing whilegently trying to make the other lose balance,without pushing or pulling dangerously.
Sophie and Maya faced each other.
“Ready?” Chloe called.
“Ready,” Sophie replied.
They took a few careful steps, trying toanticipate each other's movements. Mayafeinted left, and Sophie stepped right—but the slippery ground had other ideas.Both stumbled, grabbed each other'shands, and ended up sitting in the mud.
Jasmine raised her arms.
“Double defeat!”
“That doesn't count!” Mayaprotested, laughing.
“It absolutely counts,” Chloe insisted.“The referee has spoken.”
For the second round, Jasmine andChloe competed. They circled eachother with exaggerated seriousness,pretending to be professional wrestlerspreparing for a championship match.
Jasmine made a dramatic lunge.
Chloe sidestepped.
Jasmine stopped herself with her hands,while Chloe lost her own balance andlanded on her knees in the soft clay.
The audience—which consisted of Sophieand Maya—erupted in applause.
“Ten points for drama!” Sophie shouted.
“Zero points for dignity!” Maya added.
Chloe looked up at them, laughing.
“I hate all of you.”
“No, you don't,” Jasmine said, offeringher a hand.
Chloe accepted it, and the two friendspulled each other upright.
By the end of the tournament, nobody couldremember who had won. Everyone wasmuddy, everyone was laughing, and everyonehad a different version of the final score.
The final bucket challenge
As the afternoon sunlight filtered throughthe trees, Maya proposed one last activity.
“Everybody gets one final bucket. Westand in a line, count to three, and pour.”
Sophie nodded solemnly. “A fitting endto our glorious competition.”
They filled their buckets from the shallowsection of the basin, checking that theclay was soft enough to scoop easily.Then they stood shoulder to shoulder.
Chloe raised her hand like a conductor.
“Contestants, are you ready?”
“Ready!” the others shouted.
“One!”
They lifted their buckets.
“Two!”
They tilted them into position.
“THREE!”
Four streams of dark mud cascaded overtheir own shoulders and backs. The claysplashed against their outfits and ran downtheir arms as they burst into laughter.
Jasmine turned to admire the results.
“We have officially reached maximum mud.”
Maya looked at her sleeves.
“I don't think these clothes are evergoing to be the same.”
“That's what washing machines arefor,” Sophie replied.
Chloe grinned. “And if they don't survive, wehave an excellent excuse to go shopping.”
“Finally,” Maya said, “a practical contributionto this conversation.”
They spent another few minutes takingsilly photographs beside the basin, posinglike victorious athletes and inventingabsurd awards for one another.
Sophie won Most Dramatic Mud Splash.
Jasmine received Best Wrestling Performance.
Maya was awarded Most Likely to StartAnother Fight.
And Chloe won Most UntrustworthyPerson with a Bucket.
She accepted her title with a deep,theatrical bow.
“I'd like to thank my teammates, my family,and the swamp that made all of this possible.”
The journey home
Eventually, the four friends decided itwas time to leave. They had broughtclean clothes, towels, and plenty of water,so they headed toward their washingstation to clean up before returning home.
As they walked, they kept replayingthe afternoon's funniest moments.
“Remember when Maya tried to look elegantwhile pouring that bucket?” Sophie asked.
Maya groaned. “I was going for dramatic.”
“You looked like a startled flamingo,”Jasmine replied.
Chloe laughed so hard she had to stop walking.
“And Jasmine's wrestling move!” Mayaadded. “You practically invented a new sport.”
Jasmine put a hand over her heart.
“Thank you. I call it competitive falling.”
By the time they reached the trailhead,the sun was beginning to set. They weretired, hungry, and still laughing.
Sophie looked back toward the clearing.
“Same time next month?”
Maya considered it.
“Maybe. But next time, we choose aproper mud pit instead of an old riverbed.”
“And bring more buckets,” Chloe added.
Jasmine shook her head, smiling.
“You're all completely ridiculous.”
“That's why we're best friends,” Sophie replied.
The four women linked arms and headedhome, already planning their next adventure—and arguing over who would be braveenough to referee it.
Because one thing was certain: themud challenge had become a tradition,and none of them intended to let it endwith just one afternoon.

The Black Mud Challenge
The four best friends—Sophie, Maya,Jasmine, and Chloe, all adults—had plannedan adventurous afternoon exploring an-abandoned riverbed at the edge of the forest. For their playful costume theme,they'd chosen matching pleated skirts,button-up shirts, and knee-high socks,inspired by classic school uniforms.
After weeks without rain, the old river had left behind a wide basin of thick, dark mud. It was almost black in the shade, with a pungent,earthy smell that made Maya wrinkle her nose.
“You have got to be kidding me,” shesaid, staring down at it.
Jasmine grinned. “You said you wanted an adventure.”
“I said adventure, not a bath in swamp soup!”
Chloe laughed and stepped onto the muddy bank. The ground squelched beneath her shoes, and she wobbled dramatically before catching Sophie's hand.
That was all it took.
Within minutes, the four friends were laughing and splashing at the edge ofthe mud, daring one another to venture farther into the soft ground. They began afriendly wrestling match, trying to unbalance one another without anyone getting hurt.Every slippery step brought another tumble and another burst of laughter.
Maya managed to catch Jasmine around the waist, but they both lost their footing and landed in the dark muck with an enormous splaaat.
Jasmine emerged with black mud across her cheeks.
“You did that on purpose!”
“Prove it!” Maya challenged, laughing.
Jasmine retaliated with a playful smear of mud across Maya's nose. Sophie and Chloe joined the fray, and soon all fourwere covered in dark splashes, their carefully chosen outfits thoroughly ruined.
After one particularly spectacular tumble,Sophie lay back in the soft mud, laughing sohard she could barely speak. Chloe flopped down beside her, and they exchanged an affectionate kiss. Across the basin,Jasmine brushed a streak of mud from Maya’s cheek before Maya leaned in and kissed her, turning the mock wrestling match into a sweet, spontaneous moment.
“Are we still competing?” Sophie asked.
Chloe smiled and kissed her again. “Ithink we've all forgotten the rules.”
The four friends continued their playful tussle until they were exhausted, muddyfrom head to toe, and giggling uncontrollably.
As the afternoon sun began to fade, they climbed carefully toward the riverbank,helping one another over the slippery ground.
Then Maya noticed something unpleasant on her sleeve and sniffed.
“Okay. This mud smells absolutely awful.”
Jasmine burst out laughing. “And you were the one who wanted to roll around in it!”
They agreed that their next adventure would involve clean water, plenty of soap,and absolutely no dried-up riverbeds.
But as they walked back through the forest,holding hands and teasing one anotherabout the afternoon's mishaps, all fourknew the ridiculous muddy adventure would become one of their favorite memories.
The Ultimate Muddy Showdown
The four adult best friends—Sophie, Maya,Jasmine, and Chloe—stood at the edge of the dried riverbed, already splattered with blackmud from their wrestling match. Their themed outfits were filthy, their hair was disheveled,and none of them could stop laughing.
“New challenge!” Jasmine announced.“Who can make the biggest splash?”
“Oh, you're on,” Maya replied.
Chloe crouched beside a shallow patch ofsoft mud and slapped the surface with bothhands. A fan of dark muck flew upward,splattering Sophie across the cheeks.
Sophie gasped theatrically. “That's it.You're finished!”
She chased Chloe through the slippery basin. Chloe tried to dodge, lost herfooting, and landed hands-first in themud with a spectacular splorch. She-lifted her head, laughing, with muddystreaks across her forehead and nose.
Maya immediately doubled over laughing.
“Don't you dare laugh!” Chloe shouted.
Too late. Jasmine had crept up behind Mayaand playfully nudged her off balance into a shallow patch, where she landed on herhands and knees with a tremendous splash.
“Jasmine!”
“What? You looked like you wanted to join in!”
Soon, all four were taking turns making ridiculous muddy impressions, lowering their faces close to the surface to blow bubbles through the muck, and dramatically pretending to be defeated wrestlers. They kept their faces above the mud and avoided the deeper, unstable parts of the old riverbed.
Sophie challenged Jasmine to a face-firstlanding onto a soft, muddy patch. Jasmine demonstrated an exaggerated superherodive, stopping herself with her hands and’s ending mud spraying in every direction.
The resulting splash coated all three spectators.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then everyone burst out laughing.
“Rematch!” Maya cried.
“Absolutely not,” Chloe replied, wiping mud from her forehead. “I'm going to-need approximately seventeen showers.”
The friends finally called a truce andheaded toward the clean-water suppliesthey'd brought along, careful to avoidthe deeper black muck. They spent thewalk back laughing about their ridiculous competition and arguing over who had managed to create the biggest splash.
By sunset, their adventure had left them with ruined outfits, muddy hair, and a collection of stories that would make their friends laugh for years.
One rule for next time: a proper mudpit, plenty of clean water nearby, and no diving or dunking heads into unknown mud.

The Muddy Mayhem Continues
Sophie, Maya, Jasmine, and Chloe were nowhere near ready to call their muddy adventure finished. The four adult bestfriends stood ankle-deep in the dark muck, laughing at how thoroughly their matching outfits had been splattered.
“Round two!” Jasmine declared.
Maya scooped up a handful of mud and flungit toward Jasmine, who ducked just in time.The splash landed squarely on Chloe instead.
“Oh, now you've done it!” Chloe exclaimed.
She charged playfully toward Maya, but the slippery ground sent them both stumbling forward. They caught themselves withtheir hands, landing with two enormous splotches that sent black mud fanning across the shallow pool.
Sophie laughed so hard that she nearly lost her balance, too.
“Everybody's doing it now!” she shouted,before dropping onto her hands and knees in an exaggerated wrestler's pose.
Jasmine accepted the challenge. Sheperformed an over-the-top theatrical tumble onto a shallow, soft patch, sending awave of mud splashing toward her friends.Maya retaliated with an equally dramaticbelly-first flop, while Chloe knelt downand slapped the surface with both palms.
SPLASH! SPLORCH! SPLOOSH!
Within seconds, all four were laughing and covered in another layer of dark mud. They took turns making silly wrestling poses,smearing mud onto their own cheeks, and performing carefully controlled face-first pratfalls onto their hands and forearms.
“Ten points for style!” Sophie announced.
“Minus five for that landing!” Maya countered.
Jasmine tried a grand finale, flopping forward onto her hands in a dramatic imitation of a professional wrestler being knocked out of the ring. The splash was so enormous that everyone else ended up splattered all over again.
The four friends collapsed into laughter.
They kept their antics to the shallow, stable part of the mud pit, avoiding head dunkingin the unknown riverbed muck. By the time they finally called a truce, they were thoroughly filthy, exhausted from laughing,and already arguing about who had won.
“Next time,” Chloe announced, “we'rebringing a camera.”
“Next time,” Maya replied, “we're bringing a swimming pool full of clean water.”
Everyone agreed that was probably the smartest idea anyone had come up with all afternoon.

[A challenge from a so-called ‘friend’: Write a story in a single day (which I didn’t quite manage). Any returning readers might like seeing a couple of old friends again, any new readers like to meet two rather sexy ladies.] 
 
ACT ONE 
 
You step up to the doorway, both excited and nervous. 
 
Anna is an old FWBs of yours, a kinky postgraduate art student. A petite pixie-haired brunette with a wicked sense of humour, the deepest, darkest set of sultry dark brown eyes in the world, and genuine taste for sex, the only thing she likes more than orgasms is playing silly kinky games and teasing her partners all of the way to climax. 
 
Which is why it was a somewhat intriguing and yet worrying invite - you can fuck her as hard and long as you like, however you like, if only you play her latest little dirty game first. 
 
Uh-oh! 
 
Knowing Anna’s sense of humour, that means she’s going to really, really make you suffer before your eventual release. 
 
But also, she’s one of the hottest women you’ve ever met, and she knows exactly how to work her warm and wet pussy around your dick to mutual satisfaction after several years of practice. 
 
So it wasn’t much of a decision in truth, particularly not with the legs akimbo masturbating nudes she sent you to help you make up your mind. Although, still, aaaaaaarrrrgh! 
 
You knock at the door. 
 
You gulp. 
 
It’s not just that kinky Anna is opening the door stark naked apart from her red ‘fuck me’ heels, it’s that she’s not alone! 
 
Anna is standing alongside another almost naked female, another old FWBs of yours, a classy blonde called Nikki! Nikki is a high-powered business executive, ultra-competitive, but you know from past experience in a crazy way enjoying it when - howling and yowling in protest every time - she gets utterly trashed and messy. 
 
Oh Ye Gods indeed. Whatever filthy little Anna has lined up for you will truly be worth the initial torment! 
 
You hope. 
 
Nikki’s at least a little better dressed than Anna, however, not that having retained her black lace designer bra while leaving her nicely shaven crotch completely bare makes her look any less ridiculous! 
 
Both women laughing at your expression, they take you by each hand and lead you inside, losing shoes and bra as they do so, sensually rubbing their naked bodies up against you, deliberately trying to arouse you from the very start. 
 
“Oh boy, oh boy” grins Anna, “Have I got some very special fun in mind for my very favourite brainless big-dicked fuck toy whore tonight!” 
 
Gulp, again.  
 
Anna being Anna, that promises either total horror or total delight, or more likely a weirdly terrifying combination of the two. 
 
Next up, both of these gorgeous babes start to strip you off, caressing, groping and fondling you as they do so, the kinky Anna naturally the gentler, the brash and brazen Nikki looking you full on in the face with her striking hazel eyes as she forcefully grasps at your cock, checking just how erect you are already, as though calling out your masculinity for not already being completely firm. 
 
Anna, meanwhile, is explaining the rules of her latest little game - pointing out the rows and rows of giant custard, pudding and whipped cream pies on her kitchen table, several buckets of gunge and slime also waiting beneath it, alongside a paddling pool, the better to preserve your friend’s lovely old oak floor from slop stains. Were the pies and slime to be used that is, a purely hypothetical scenario of course. 
 
To WIN the right to fuck kinky little Anna, she explains to you with glee, all you need to do is first sit on your hands and not touch yourself while her and Nikki put on a smutty lesbian sex show for you. And then nail her with every single pie before she finishes wanking herself off for her second climax of the evening, then taking any spare remaining mess yourself! 
 
Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhh! 
 
WHAT A NAUGHTY FUCKING VIXEN!!! 
 
And what a fucking offer, whatever the t+c! 
 
Naked, you sit down on your hands. 
 
Nikki and Anna sit down cross-legged on the rug in front of you. And what follows is the most deliberately slow, teasing, arousing and tantalising lesbian porn show you have ever seen in your entired fucked up, depraved and pervy life! 
 
You sit there, on your hands, cock throbbing ever harder and harder, desperate to touch yourself but knowing that you cannot if you wish to creampie the lovely Anna later on this evening. 
 
Nikki and Anna first start by slowly caressing and kissing each other’s toned, tanned and lean bare bodies, tongues buried deep down each other’s throats as they massage each other’s bare and gorgeous boobies. This is just the foreplay you very much understand, and they’re both evidently very sexually delighted as they elongate it, clearly also very much turned on by the agony this torment is for you. 
 
Then there is the slow transition to sensual, intimate and gentle pussy fingering, both lovely ladies already purring in pure sexual appreciation of each other’s clearly well-practised girl-on-girl skills. Before, Anna being Anna, there always being a twist, she surprises Nikki with the double-headed dildo both women have to insert and fuck each other with! 
 
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrggggggghhhhhhhh!!! 
 
You’re truly and utterly living out a one-man science experiment. Could a dude be so tortured, allured and carnally tormented that he shoot his load out of sheer horniness and pleasure without even touching himself?! 
 
And yet it gets even worse! 
 
Recognising your frustration, the girls gleefully break off their scissor sistering to gigglingly and smugly tease you a little. Nikki jerks roughly away at your throbbing cock for a gloriously tantalisingly few seconds before a wickedly smirking Anna gives you a full five seconds of a fluttering blow job as her brazen friend strokes your chest, kisses your neck and licks your bum cheeks from behind! 
 
“Dirty job” Anna chuckles as you actually whimper in pure and utter sexual desperation. “You really will have to pay me back later on…” 
 
“Don’t worry” you gasp, almost hoarse with desire, hands still planted beneath you, knowing that Anna such a little minx she’d actively enjoy NOT shagging you if you failed your dare, “I surely fucking will!” 
 
Meanwhile, you still have to endure your so-called friends assuming a 69-position, before finally finishing each other off with good old fashioned two-way finger fucking, almost killing you with frustration as they squirm and writhe in pleasure, beads of sweat actually forming on the contorted Anna’s forehead as Nikki full flat on her back, limbs physically jerking in release. By the time they finish, both women are actually screaming in pleasure! 
 
“Oh fuck” gasps Anna, “That is very, very much the place!” 
 
“I’m Nikki” screams the brash one as she climaxes, “I’m Nikki, Nikki, Nikki!!!” 
 
You give them a minute to collapse alongside each other, trembling, shaking and panting as they start to come down from their first orgasm of the evening. 
 
“Well then” you smirk, standing up, and dragging the paddling pool out into the centre of the room, before ominously picking up a pie. “If you’d like to assume your favoured wanking position, Anna, it is time for Act Two… 
 
“Just a second” says Nikki, deceptively calmly, now relaxing on the sofa with a glass of wine and pocket vibrator. “Let her wait for it, tease her like she teased you, give her a moment to imagine the impact of all of those pies, think what a complete and utter slop slut your little stoogette is really going to be!” 
 
“Bitch” laughs Anna, sitting on her bum in the paddling pool, traces of wetness clearly visible around her naked crotch as she enjoys the lingering sexual sweetness before the imminently inbound other kind of sweetness, “And I really put my heart and soul into that pussy licking as well!” 
 
And as your red hot and spicy friends pout and tongue poke at each other, we move on into… 
 
ACT TWO 
 
“Sniff the pie” you say with glee, holding it in front of your naked and about to totally cop it young mess whore of a friend. 
 
“Oh God” she titters nervously, hands for some reason cupping over her bare boobies in nervousness rather than immediately stroking herself, “I both love and fucking hate the moment when it becomes really, really real!” 
 
“Heh heh heh” you chuckle, wafting the pie to and fro in front of her cute little make-up made-up if sweat-beaded face so imminently bound for sexy slapstick style destruction! 
 
Yes, it is now… Finally… It is 
 
MID-MASTURBATION PIE TIME FOR KINKY LITTLE ANNA!!! 
 
Teasing her as much as she teased you, you waft the pie in and out, in and out, to Nikki’s kinky background cackles, and poor little Anna’s whimpers of anticipation before you plant it full on into her sexy little lip-biting nervous face! 
 
KERSMACK!!! 
 
Of course you naturally follow up with the immediate pie sandwich, pies to the boobies and interventionary pie to her busily finger-fucking groin. To say nothing of the bucket of translucent white cum-like slime over the head followed by the classic silver pie tray headwear in between the gunge buckets… 
 
TOTAL AND UTTER SPLATTER TIME FOR FUCKFEST WANKING ANNA!!! 
 
Kersplat. 
 
Kersplat… 
 
KERSPLATT!!! 
 
Unfortunately for you, given the rules of her game about you receiving any remaining mess, the perpetually horny Anna was clearly still rather tender down below from her previous exertions. 
 
In no time at all, as the still naked Nikki demurely sips her drink and occasionally takes another buzz with her vibrator, your brunette friend is already climaxing again. She’s clearly not faking just to get you messy either, she’s actually bent double in pleasure, shuddering and gasping even as you move in to nail her with another pie sandwich! 
 
“Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!” she squeals, collapsing flat on her back in a frantic final finger frenzy as you desperately lob a final bucket of gunge over her, now lost to purely animal pleasure, “Uh, UHHH UHHHHH!!!” 
 
KERSPLATT!!! 
 
KAPOW!!! 
 
You were particularly proud of that final post-gunging pie which nailed Anna mid-orgasm full-on in her face, leaving her choking and spluttering as the slop fills her wide open mouth, even as she took one final desperate thrust at herself before collapsing flat on her back in the slime while visibility squirting once again, still spitting out pie crust as she does so, heart visibly pounding, those lovely little slop-covered titties heaving up and down. 
 
Oh fuck yes! 
 
Your own heart racing, erection throbbing, whatever the heck happens next, that was quite a lot of fun! 
 
“That was nice” agrees Nikki, topping up her wine glass. “I really rather enjoyed that!” 
 
“I’m so glad for you” pouts Anna, having struggled back upright and pawed her eyes clear of slop, giggling at the state of herself, her voice still a little shaky after the intensity of her second orgasm of the evening. “Because I am really going to enjoy this!” 
 
Gulp again. 
 
Anna having cum so fast does of course mean that there is rather a lot of mess left, now all destined for you! And by the rules of her ridiculous game, since you hit with every single pie and gunge shot, all you need to do to shag the wretched little sexpot senseless is take your punishment like a man… 
 
Oh Lord, truly it is a hard life indeed for a man who likes wet and messy fornication with beautiful women of similar wild and whacky tastes! 
 
Gulp. 
 
Smiling, Anna makes you kneel naked in the slop pool and gives you a pie to hold in each hand, calling you her silly little mess slave as she does so, teasing you for so constantly thinking with your cock. 
 
“No spilling them or premature ejaculation mind…” she giggles as she picks up one of the gunge buckets, “No sex for you if you do!” 
 
Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrggggggghhhh!!! 
 
You’re motherfucking doomed all fucking over again!!! 
 
DOOMED!!! 
 
It’s a complete and utter proper wet and messy trashing you endure, no normal mere gunging this. An obscenely smiling Anna first pies your rampant erection, smoothing the custard and cream up and down your shaft as she does so, knowing exactly how tempting it must be not to use either your cock or the pies on her as she checks out just very hard and long you are today, given your present somewhat awkward circumstances. 
 
After that tantalisingly brief hand wank, you then have to endure a pie to each buttock, one smoothed around your chest, and two to the face, before the gunge bucket and the inevitable use of what you are holding for a climactic pie sandwich! 
 
KERSPLATT!!! 
 
Wah… 
 
Wah… 
 
Wah… 
 
All you can think on your knees in this stupid ruddy child’s paddling pool, female laughter echoing in your pie-filled ears, is that this pulsing, quivering follow-up sex had better be really, really fucking good! 
 
“Oh I am loving this” smirks Nikki from the sofa, in no way inviting a later comeuppance, “It is so, so satisfying when it’s not me getting the slop for once!” 
 
However, while you have been in more dignified positions in your time, on the plus side you have actually completed all of Anna’s ridiculous challenges and by her own rules finally now get to have your wicked way with her, as we move on into… 
 
ACT THREE 
 
“Right” you grin, standing there completely naked, utterly covered in pie slop and staring at your equally slathered friend full on in the eyes, an evil grin upon your plastered face. “I believe that I WON your stupid game, making it my turn now, LOSER!” 
 
Uh-oh! 
 
“Oh dear…” groans Anna in fake resignation, “What ever will you do to me?” 
 
Quite a lot it transpires. 
 
With only a minor grimace, you lie flat on your back in the now wholly slop-filled paddling pool, and politely - like the fucking gentleman you are - kindly ask Anna to kneel and mount you, the better to receive her just desserts. 
 
Her job is to bounce up and down as hard as she can on your custard-lubed cock until she receives a different kind of dirty creampie, while also reaching inside herself to finger her own sopping wet and pie-lubed clit, without cumming first, otherwise she’ll have to pay for all three of your post-hosedown takeaways. 
 
Easy right?! Just pity she has only just climaxed the twice already, so must be really rather sensitive… And unfortunately, poor little Anna will also have to keep the bucket of used gunge and pie slop from the pool you expect her to douse herself with on her head throughout the closing fuckfest of the night. Also, very importantly, not letting those lovely little slippery boobies of hers ever escape the groping hands she was foolish enough to have you sit upon for so long earlier. 
 
Wah… 
 
Wah… 
 
Wah… 
 
WET AND MESSY PAYBACK TIME FOR KINKY LITTLE ANNA!!! 
 
“I’m going to enjoy this” grins Nikki, leaning back on the sofa, smartphone recording in one hand, pocket vibrator still purring in her other. “I’m just glad I’m not the one playing the slop stooge for once!” 
 
“Next time bitch” says Anna, ruefully staring down at the ram-filled slop bucket. “Just you fucking wait!” 
 
KERSPLATT!!! 
 
Anna’s a game girl, though, and only seconds later the bucket is very much on her head, and she’s simultaneously squealing at the shock of so much cold custard, gunge and cream all together while also implanting her beautifully tight pussy down onto your upturned cock! 
 
“Well then” she says once in position, elegantly and gracefully, like a proper fucking lady, albeit one covered in mess and with a bucket on her head, while guiding your hands up onto her lovely pert little breasts. “Shall we fuck?” 
 
“If you don’t mind” you grin, “It’s been a whole five hours since my last wank after all!” 
 
“Dirty boy” chuckles Anna as she starts to ardently and enthusiastically bounce and finger away, trembling a little already at your caresses, still being so close to her last throat-throttling orgasm, “Dirty, dirty boy!” 
 
“But do you want to know who I was thinking of?” you say as you thrust ever deeper into Anna with every bounce while also teasing at her slimy nipples, “I’ll give you a clue, I’m inside her right now!” 
 
“Hey” complains Nikki with another swig of her wine and thrust of her toy, “Another nearby girl could take offence at this!” 
 
“Don’t worry dear” pants Anna, frantically fornicating away, clearly trying to set some kind of bucket-headed sexual speed record, “My next solo masturbation will be glad solely in PVC underwear and thinking of the taste of your muff!” 
 
“That’ll do” purrs Nikki, upping the speed of her toy, “And I have to say that bucket does look very good on you!” 
 
“Fuck you!” gasps Anna, grinding ever hard away at you, actually having you on the edge already even as she starts to climax all over again herself, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck the fucking fucking pair of you!” 
 
It’s really amazing sex you have to grant Anna that, however tired she is, although of course the dirty girl has had an awful lot of practice. 
 
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 
 
Jesus, you’re going to explode at any moment, Anna’s well-lubed pussy is so warm and wet and tight around your cock, and even as she shudders and judders through her own orgasm, she’s putting ever more energy into her bouncing, clearly absolutely determined to well and truly fuck you out before she collapses in sheer pleasure and exhaustion herself. 
 
Which is when you tickle her of course… 
 
“Yaaargh!” yowls Anna, somehow still pro enough not to slide off you even while convulsing in laughter and forcing your hands back up to her breasts (no great shame admittedly), “You are so getting it even worse next time!” 
 
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 
 
You’re so nearly, nearly there… But the way little Anna’s now leaning backwards as she fingers and bounces, shuddering and whimpering at each upwards thrust you make, you somehow think you might win this particular cum race, even if flat on your bum in a paddling pool full of mess and pie slop! 
 
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 
 
“Oh God!” yowls Anna eventually, yanking the bucket off her head and collapsing on top of you, thirstily snogging you even as you still thirstily pump away at each other, “You win! Dinner’s on me, I really can’t take any more of this!” 
 
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 
 
“Neither can I” you gasp almost in unison, cupping your legs around messy Anna’s pert little booty and forcing yourself ever deeper inside her, eliciting further little pants of shock and pleasure as you finally shoot your load! 
 
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 
 
Over and over and over again, pumping yourself completely and utterly dry inside your filthy little minx of a friend! 
 
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 
 
And yaaaaaarrrrrgh! Just when you think things can’t get any hotter, you glance over to the sofa when you hear a little purr of pleasure, spotting a breathless Nikki legs splayed, alternately bent nearly double and back arching as she enjoys her second trembling orgasm of the day in delicate glorious time with yourself and Anna. 
 
Fuck, yes, yes, fucking YES YES YESSSSSS!!!! 
 
“Oh my” says Anna in the end, collapsing full on length ways on top of you in the slop, giggling at the ridiculousness of your situation, breasts hard against you, your cock still up against her pussy, her heart beating against yours, looking you full on in the eyes and sensually drooling slop down into your gaping mouth. “We really are getting good at this…” 
 
“I’m so glad you approve of my performance” you smirk, half-stunned with pleasure, with a final cheeky squeeze of her cute and slimy little buttocks. “But we could always use more practice!” 
 
“Agreed” says Anna eventually, once done with her final snogging and after finally sliding out from underneath you and slipping out of the room. “But if you’ll excuse me, there’s just one last thing I need to do before ordering a takeaway and then your blow job in the shower…” 
 
You flat lie on your back in the paddling pool of slop, anticipating your next treat with hands behind your head as the still naked Nikki now stands over you, posing one hand on her hip as the other films your total and utter sexual humiliation and degradation on her smartphone. 
 
“OMG!” the cocksure Nikki smirks, not noticing a grinning Anna arriving back behind her with another bucket of the translucent white gunge. “I can’t believe that you’re that fucked up and that for once I not only had an girl-on-girl orgasm but actually stayed clean!” 
 
KERSPLATT!!! 
 
Uh-oh… 
 
IT’S A FAKE CUM HAIRWASH TIME FOR NAUGHTY NIKKI!!! 
 
“Waaaaaaaarrrgggggghhhhhh!!!” 
 
The End! 
 
[Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the story. If you’re a returning reader, if there are any other of my old characters you’d like to hear from again, please do let me know. Always happy to roll out my dear friends Anna and Nikki once again, but I’d be particularly interested in hearing from anyone with a thing for one of my side characters.]

For everyone who read Sons of Salad on Monday—Roxy is back, she's still furious about the buffet fiasco, and today she's tackling her first day of community service.

Roxy stepped off the city bus onto the sidewalk in front of the community corrections building. Passengers behind her laughed under their breath, pointed, and made faces. Her beloved motorcycle was still in the shop after the whole game day fiasco, so even if she still wanted to dress like a biker, she couldn’t ride like one, and people thought that was almost as funny as the whole buffet table crash. She had managed to get her leather jacket and boots dry cleaned, although there were still some potato salad and honey mustard stains if you looked closely at the worn-out parts of the sleeves of the leather. People thought that was pretty funny too. She did not.

What Roxy thought was the least humorous was the reckless driving ticket she had gotten for her little motorcycle incident. The judge decided to drop criminal charges because according to him, “getting covered in all that food in front of the whole town was already punishment enough,” but that was only if she agreed to 100 hours of community service. So now she was doing what she hated the most: helping other people.

Before she could even get inside, Officer Miller, her new corrections officer—a strict, no-nonsense type of woman who had no sympathy for her—pushed the front doors open and met her halfway. She was quite beautiful, but very stern-looking, with her hair in a very tight, blonde ponytail, and dark aviators. Between that, the polo shirt tucked neatly into her khakis, and the clipboard she was tapping impatiently, she didn’t even have to say her stance on biker or alternative culture. She looked at her with annoyed disappointment.

“I thought I told you to dress professionally?” she asked rhetorically, as she scanned her leather outfit with thoroughly unamused skepticism.

“Does it really matter?” Roxy asked defiantly, her hands on her hips.

“I guess I can overlook it,” she replied, writing something down on her clipboard. “But you need to fix that attitude. That’s why karma gave you your little food bath the other day...” She added with a slight smirk, “Follow me...”

She led Roxy around the back of the building to the courtyard that connected the community corrections building with the library and the post office. In the middle, acting like a small hub for traffic, was a large gazebo and a surrounding garden. They were getting ready to plant new flowers, and there was nothing but a 7-foot-wide ring of thick brown mud, where a recent rainstorm had turned the soil they had laid down into a sloppy, brown soup. Several people were walking down the sidewalk and in and out of the buildings. Most of them recognized her either from being there the other day or from the internet, where she was now a viral joke, and sneered in her direction.

“Hey, it’s the buffet biker!” a man with a stubble beard and a backwards baseball cap shouted in her direction. He and his frat-boy-looking friends laughed as they walked into the library. A woman who was walking out as they were walking in covered her mouth to hide her mean-spirited amusement.

“Buffet biker, that’s a good one...” Officer Miller said with a chuckle. “We need to dump the extra topsoil before we can plant. Wheelbarrow is right there. Get to work, tough chick.”

Roxy swallowed her pride, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached. She grabbed the handles of the heavy steel wheelbarrow, which was piled high with wet, heavy topsoil. She looked down at the only way across the seven-foot moat of waterlogged, churning muck: a single, narrow wooden construction plank that the crew had laid down to reach the center of the gazebo garden. It was already slick with morning dew.

She hoisted the handles, lifting the heavy load, and took her first cautious step onto the plank. The heavy tread on the bottom of her boots was completely smooth from the dry cleaner’s slick polish. The metal studs lining the ankles rattled faintly as the wheelbarrow wobbled violently. The weight of the wet earth wanted to pull her left, then right.

She made it to the exact midpoint of the plank, suspended right over the deepest part of the muck.

The courtyard was getting busier now. More people were streaming down the sidewalks—businessmen in suits heading toward the post office, a group of college students holding textbooks, and an elderly couple walking toward the library. Almost instantly, heads turned. Whispers broke out. The crowd on the pavement began to slow down, sensing that the infamous "buffet biker" was about to do something stupid.

Suddenly, a businessman in a sharp grey suit stopped right in front of the flowerbed, pulling out his phone with a grin. "Hey look, it’s her!" he called out to his coworker.

Roxy flinched. The sudden shout made her eyes dart toward the crowd for just a split second, and her balance vanished.

The heavy front wheel of the wheelbarrow drifted two inches off the side of the wet plank.

The wheel plunged straight down into the thick, soupy mud and stopped dead in its tracks. But Roxy was still moving forward. As the hopper of the wheelbarrow tilted violently down into the mire, the long metal handles acted like a lever. Roxy’s grip was locked on tight, and the force of the flip launched her clean off the wooden board.

She went flying straight forward, completely vaulting over the body of the overturned wheelbarrow.

For one crazy, horrifying second, the tough biker was completely airborne, soaring over her equipment in a perfect arc.

By Muddy Mary 

Roxy’s motorcycle screamed through the packed parking lot, ignoring the scared and angry shouts and gestures, the engine’s howl drowning out the music being played by the innocent tailgaters. In her well-worn, but expensive black leather jacket, tight jeans, and studded biker boots, she smirked and laughed at the football fans grilling with their families. She loved being a bully and scaring people, and today she was using her bike to aggressively push her way through the many rows of tents, mowing down lawn chairs and forcing people to dive out of her way in fear of being hit. As a member of an outlaw motorcycle club, the whole town greeted her appearance as usual: with fear mixed with anger and annoyance. 

"Get out of the way, geeks!" Roxy yelled, cranking the throttle as she neared the biggest tent of them all, right in the center of the lot—a massive catering tent for the hundreds of fans. 

She was too busy reveling in how tough and cool she thought she was to see the puddle of slick, spilled cooking oil on the ground. Her front tire sped over it, and she lost control. 

She attempted to overcorrect her balance as her bike wobbled violently. She gasped as she began to fish-tail wildly, as people’s mouths dropped in fear and disbelief.  More people dove and scrambled as she slid almost completely sideways across the pavement. Both she and her bike went skidding right through the entrance of the VIP tent. She tried to abandon her bike at the last second, and was sent flying straight into a giant, forty-foot catering table completely loaded down with a huge assortment of colorful and unfortunately sloppy and smelly game-favorite food. 

SMASH. SQUELCH. PLOP.

The huge table of food splattered outward under the force of her body as her outstretched hands tried and failed to stop her from landing face first. Her hair fell outward around her head and into the food as well, as her entire body compressed into the gunk with a wet slap. At first there was a stunned silence. Then the crowd began laughing raucously. A hilariously cartoonish human -shaped outline was left as she attempted to lift herself out of the slop- leaving an embarrassing  impression of her head, followed by her hands and forearms, her torso, and finally her legs and feet only separated by the edges of the smashed down, deeply filled trays . Before she could get out of the mess, the table suddenly collapsed to her right, shifting under her weight and causing her to roll flat on her back on the pavement. The buffet transformed into a small mud slide and absolutely buried Roxy underneath a tidal wave of food. She was pinned down by the flood, as the large, industrial-sized catering tubs dumped their contents right on top of her. 

Instantly, a five-gallon vat of thick, slimy, honey barbecue sauce cascaded down, covering her hair, face and the entire front of her leather jacket in a heavy, gooey, brownish-red blanket. 

“Yyyeeeeuuchh!” Roxy cried. 

The crowd cheered and laughed harder, pointing and pulling out their phones. She sat up slowly, trying to wipe the sauce from her eyes. She crawled  to the adjacent table, putting her hands on it for support as she tried to climb to her feet. To her misfortune, the table also rocked towards her, and she looked up just as the largest thing balancing on it  began to tumble slowly towards her, its contents peeking out forebodingly…

“Oh nooo…”

In the blink of an eye, a huge plastic bowl, filled to the brim with twenty pounds of cold, thick potato salad followed the barbecue sauce’s lead, and came plummeting down right over her head.

SPLAT.

Roxy let out a muffled, but embarrassingly high pitched bark, as the rolling sludge of thick mayonnaise, chunks of potato, celery bits, and mustard plastered her hair, ears, and neck, sliding down into her leather collar and the buttoned flaps and lapels of her once prized jacket, running down her sleeves and pooling in her lap.

Absolutely mortified, she reached up with a gloved, slime-covered hand and grabbed the edges of the bowl. With an embarrassingly audible, wet, SQUELCH, she pulled it off her head like a suction cup. As she took off her humiliating new hat, giant blobs of potato salad immediately ran down her nose and forehead, obscuring her vision and sliding down her cheeks and dripping over her lips. The crowd, no longer afraid of her, moved in to enjoy her downfall from a closer view.

THE PRODUCER'S PENALTY (Part 1)

By Muddy Mary

Executive Producer Regina stormed across the soundstage, her high heels clacking sharply against the concrete floor. She was wearing a flawless, thousand-dollar cream business suit, her posture rigid with unearned arrogance.

"This studio is a disaster!" Regina snapped, pointing a manicured finger at the stage hands. "If this charity segment isn’t wrapped in five minutes, you’re all fired. I don't care how many pies you have left over—"

She stepped backward aggressively, completely blind to the large, rolling bakery cart parked directly behind her. The cart was stacked top-to-bottom with dozens of heavy, deep-dish tins overflowing with thick, yellow custard, sticky whipped cream, and mounds of crushed, juicy strawberries and blueberries.

Her heel caught the metal base of the rack.

With a sharp gasp, Regina completely lost her balance. She tumbled backward, crashing tail-first right into the center of the flimsy cart. The entire metal structure buckled and collapsed under her weight, sending the shelves folding inward like a house of cards.

SQUELCH. SPLAT. OOOZE.

Regina landed flat on her back in a massive, catastrophic pile of metal and aluminum tins. Instantly, over twenty pies collapsed directly onto her. A torrential, heavy avalanche of thick, gooey custard and heavy cream buried her from head to toe. Her expensive cream suit was instantly plastered with sticky, yellow goo, while the crushed strawberries and leaking blueberries bled bright red and deep purple stains into the expensive fabric.

She opened her mouth to scream, but a massive blob of cold, sweet custard slid directly off her forehead and plopped into her mouth, silencing her completely.

If you liked that, come on down to Muddy Mary’s Slime Pit, and subscribe to read part two and everything else I’m going to be writing. New stories at least twice a week! Thank you and stay messy!

Hey all. Would anyone know where is hosting a particular story? It was on the WAM library website when it was active and I think the premise was a girl named Bri on some kind of gameshow and that she had to endure countless buckets of dog poo poured over her and on her head.

M/f, gameshow, gunge tank, NHP, cum

It had been two weeks since I watched Lucy and Mark in their back garden. And if I’m honest, I’d thought of little else since. Not just idle daydreams or casual reminiscing, I kept putting myself in their positions. Sometimes it was me on the sunbed, cold mess poured over my soft skin while Lucy’s hands slid across my naked body and Mark’s cock filled my mouth. Other times I was between Lucy’s thighs, tongue working the sticky food from her pussy as Mark fucked me from behind, his hands gripping my hips and smearing more mess across my big belly and thighs. Or both of them covering me completely, then taking turns cleaning my pussy with their tongues before sitting on my face so I had could repay the sweet filthy favour. Every version ended the same way: me getting thoroughly messed up and thoroughly fucked.

It invariably finished with me coming hard, thinking about being coated and used. The number of times I’d finger myself in those two weeks was probably more than I had as a teenager. It was almost consuming me. When my husband fucked me I closed my eyes and imagined he was doing it while I was already dripping in slime.

I’d even researched it a little online. Watching other people get messy was fun, but nowhere near as intense as imagining myself in their place. It reminded me of those 90s gameshows where some unsuspecting contestant got coerced or volunteered into a gunge tank or vat of slime. I watched hours of them on YouTube, wishing it was me forced into that messy situation with everyone watching. Sometimes Mark or Lucy were the ones doing it to me, sometimes they were beside me getting covered too. More often than not the fantasy slid into fingers, tongues or Mark’s cock. Or combination of them all, while I was still dripping in mess.

So it was no surprise that, in the middle of one night, this happened.

I was in the audience of Noel’s House Party. A show I’d been watching on YouTube. Sat on the front row with my husband, Mark, Lucy and even my sister Heather. And the inevitable happened. Noel announced that someone’s annoying wife deserved a gunging. The spotlight hit me. Butterflies flooded my stomach, a mixture of embarrassment and sharp, undeniable arousal tangled together so tightly I could barely breathe.

I stood up, smoothing the black dress I was wearing for the TV appearance down over my curvy body. The fabric clung to my full hips and the soft swell of my belly; the plunging neckline already showed the top of my tits and the deep line of my cleavage. My expensive heels clicked on the studio floor as I was ushered toward Noel. Facing my friends and family and the rest of the audience, I felt every eye on me. Behind me the wall revolved, revealing the carwash gunge tank. We had just watched a celebrity get gunged in it (and I’d wished it was me the whole time). Now the tank was refilled with thick, bright green and blue gunge. I hoped it was set for me.

Noel explained that my husband, Mark, Lucy and Heather all wanted to see me in the gunge tank. I protested for the camera, the done thing. I told everyone I didn’t want my lovely dress or my expensive heels, ruined. Noel sympathised. It was a lovely dress. He suggested a vote. A bit of jeopardy. Maybe I wasn’t going to get gunged after all.

Lucy wanted to ruin my outfit, so the vote was announced: should Lucy gunge me in my dress and heels? I hoped the alternative would be me getting to gunge Lucy or even Heather or Mark. But Mark suggested the alternative himself, he should gunge me without the dress and heels. Naked. In front of everyone. Fucking hell.

The result was predictable. I stood centre stage, nervous, feet shuffling. Surely nobody really wanted to see my naked mum-bod. My big soft thighs, the gentle curve of my tummy, my slightly sagging tits with nipples that were already huge, tightening and hardening at the mere thought of being gunged, clothed or not. I smiled at the crowd, trying for sympathy, red lips parted to show perfectly white teeth. I was so glad I’d spent ages getting my blonde hair perfect and my makeup immaculate. Mark was going to give me a naked gunging. Fuck.

In front of everyone I was told to strip. Mark, ever helpful, unzipped the back of the dress. I let it fall to the floor at my feet with my big knickers. The cool studio air caressed my newly bare skin. I leaned over to unclasp my heels, feeling Mark’s eyes on the full curve of my ass as it lifted. Everyone else’s eyes were on my tits as they hung forward in that bent-over position. I stood up again, hands on my hips so the whole audience could see my curvy naked body and pouted. I still couldn’t believe this was what they all wanted.

Mark took my hand and led me to the wooden chair at the start of the carwash gunge tank. The seat was already glazed with thick, yellowy-orange gunge left over from the previous victim. I groaned as I lowered my round ass onto it. The cold, slippery mess coated my soft skin immediately and nearly made me slide right off. Everyone laughed. Keeping what dignity I could, I kept my knees together and tucked my legs and feet under the chair. The footwell was already filled with gunge, so I had no choice but to plunge my bare feet into the smooth, cold yellow slime. It squelched up between my toes. I waggled them experimentally. The texture was thick and gooey, almost creamy and so cold it made me shiver even as heat pooled low in my belly. The thought of that same slime covering the rest of my skin sent another shiver down my spine and left me unmistakably wet.

I sat there, smearing the gunge around my feet while Noel took Mark to the other side of the tank where the big comedy wooden ship’s wheel hung on the wall. Everyone was staring at me. I forced a smile and tried to settle into the chair. My naked tits, soft belly and chubby thighs were completely on show. One hand rested on my lap, I shook my head in mock fear, making my blonde hair brush against my bare shoulders. Noel spun the wheel.

The chair turned away from the crowd. They got my side profile. The full curve of my naked ass on the seat, the soft side of one tit. I looked straight ahead at the spinning carwash brushes. Then I was moving through them. They were already wet with water and residual slime from the previous gunging. The soft, saturated bristles dragged across my bare arms and the sides of my body that overhung the chair, leaving cool, sticky trails. Through the brushes I could see Mark grinning at me, holding a cord. He was really enjoying this.

The chair stopped. I looked up at the tank, then at Mark. Then I saw nothing. A thick, cold cascade of green and blue gunge slammed down over my head. It destroyed my carefully styled blonde hair in an instant, flattening it to my skull and turning it into a heavy, dripping mass. The sudden weight and chill forced a sharp gasp from me. My knees and feet jerked up out of the yellow puddle for a second. The gunge hit my face in heavy, wet sheets, coating my cheeks, nose and lips. I could taste the faint sweetness of it as it ran into my mouth and dripped from my chin in long, gooey strings. More of it slid down the back of my neck and over my shoulders, sticky and cold, heading inexorably toward my bare ass. I shivered hard.

As I leaned back, the next wave of gunge found my tits. It felt incredible. Thick, cold and heavy as it slapped against my sensitive skin, coating both breasts completely, clinging to my hardening nipples before hanging off them in heavy, stretching drips that finally dropped into my lap. A thick river of mixed green and blue slime ran between my tits, over the soft curve of my tummy and began to pool in the tight gap between my clamped thighs. It didn’t take long for the gap to fill and overflow, coating the insides of my soft thighs and then sliding down my bare legs in slow, glistening rivers. My feet, planted back in the yellow gunge, received a second coating as the mess ran off my knees and over my ankles and the tops of my feet. My toes waggled in pure pleasure, then curled tightly as I deliberately parted my thighs and let the cold gunge soak straight into my already wet, sensitive pussy. God, I was soaked. Gunge and my own arousal mixing into something filthy and perfect.

Mark was grinning at me. He had a first-class view of my parted legs, my pussy glistening with slime, my gunge splattered tits and my head completely covered in dripping goo. I gave him a little show. Long, messy fingernails scraping gunge from my eyes, then rubbing my hands clean on my big thighs before deliberately smearing more of the mess over my tits and rock-hard nipples, making fresh goo slop down into my lap and over my pussy.

The gunging finished. The chair moved out of the tank to face the audience again. My thighs were still parted. Everyone got a long, clear look at the mess I was in. Gunge still sliding off my ruined hair in heavy strands, my red lips half hiding a smile while slime dripped from them, my tits and soft curves completely coated in blue and green. Could they see how wet my pussy was under the layer of slime? I told myself the cold was the only reason my nipples were so hard. My toes kept curling and playing in the growing puddle at my feet. So many eyes on me.

Then the tank revolved away from the cheering audience. It was just me and Mark backstage. My hands instinctively went to my tits. Not to cover them, but to spread the gunge further, pulling and rolling my nipples between sticky fingers. Mark’s hands joined mine almost immediately. He scooped more goo from my big thighs and smeared it across my tits, then over my belly, then deliberately between my thighs.

I leaned back as two of his fingers slid into my pussy. A small, helpless moan escaped me. I was so wet! Gunge and pure arousal making everything slick and easy.

“Are you okay?”

My husband’s voice pulled me out of my dream. I was lying on my back in our bed, one hand still on my bare tits, the other buried inside my pussy.

“Yeah,” I panted. It was a warm night. I was naked. The similarities with the dream ended there. It wasn’t Mark fingering me. it was me. I wasn’t covered in gunge, only a light sheen of sweat. But my pussy was soaking. “Fuck me now.”

I lay back, hands on my tits, legs spread wide. I closed my eyes tight again.

In the dream, Noel had insisted I get cleaned up. I felt like such a dirty gunge slut. We were still behind the studio set and I was still naked, my clothes somewhere on the floor. The gunge tank had been refilled. This time with thick brown sludge. I wondered who would get this load. Mark would love to see Lucy naked and covered. I’d love to watch Heather take the same messy treatment I’d just received.

But it was Mark who was told to sit on the chair. I laughed as his bare ass squelched onto the already messy seat, his rock-hard cock standing proudly. He looked so hot like that. Then I was told where to sit.

Right on Mark’s cock.

I groaned as I lowered myself and his thick length slid straight into my soaking, shaved pussy, stretching me wide. The gunge tank revolved. The audience was looking at us again. I almost forgot the tank was there. I rubbed my slimy toes up and down his calves while I squirmed on him, feeling him so deep. His hands gripped my hips. I was truly impaled. Lucy wanted to gunge us because I’d let Mark finger me earlier.

Neither of us protested. I ground down on his hard cock, feeling it twitch inside me. His hands circled my waist, one cupping a messy tit, the other finding my clit. Shit. I was going to get gunged again.

The wheel spun. The chair turned toward the carwash brushes. We moved slowly through them. My hands braced on Mark’s strong thighs so I could bounce gently up and down on his cock. The wet brushes slapped and dragged across my already sticky skin again. I didn’t care. The cock inside me felt too good. I smiled at Lucy as she pulled the cord.

Thick, brown, sticky slime cascaded over me while her husband fucked me. My long blonde hair was ruined again, this time with heavy brown goo that plastered it to my face and neck. My smile never faded. I didn’t look up. I wanted Lucy to watch. To look me in the eye as she gunged me as hwr husband fucked me. The gunge splattered over my head and ran down my body in thick, clinging sheets. Mark’s hand on my tit massaged the fresh mess into my skin, fingers pinching and rolling my sensitive nipples until they ached in the best way. So messy. So humiliating. Perfect.

His other hand kept working my clit while my big tummy glistened under a fresh layer of slime. More gunge slid down over my belly and across my pussy as his cock pumped in and out, carrying the brown mess with it. Every thrust pushed slime deeper inside me and then dragged it back out again, coating both of us. My big thighs shook as I rode him harder. My toes curled tight in the growing puddle at our feet. I was so close. I could feel he was too. His cock thickening, pulsing and twitching, both of us dripping.

The deluge finally stopped. The chair moved to face the audience again. We were a complete, dripping mess.

Panting, I opened my eyes. Back in my bedroom. Not covered in gunge.

“Cum on me,” I begged my husband.

I closed my eyes again and I was back on Mark’s cock, still dripping. Lucy called me a chubby gunge slut. I nodded in agreement. She was holding a bucket of thick white slime. She poured it straight over my relatively clean face. I laughed and spluttered as the warm mess coated my soft skin and dripped from my chin onto my tits. She didn’t stop. She emptied the rest of the bucket over my tits and pussy. Mark kept playing with my nipples while the warm white mess finally slopped across my clit. I came hard, body locking up, toes curling so tightly they cramped.

I opened my eyes again. My face, tits and pussy were splattered with my husband’s cum. I came even harder than I had at any point in the previous two weeks. My pussy pulsing, toes stretching and curling, breath ragged. Still panting, I rubbed the warm, slimy cum into my soft skin with both hands. It was messy… but nowhere near messy enough.

As I lay there, thinking about Mark fucking me while Lucy gunged me, all I could focus on was how to make the fantasy real. How could I orchestrate a messy session with them? How could I join one of theirs?

My neighbours might be perverts.

But I’m sure I am too.

The sunrise of an otherwise gorgeous Friday morning did little to lift the sense of dread which filled Jenna and Madison as the business partners sat idly in the small office of their small bakery on a small street in their small tourist down near the beach. Jenna watched the condensation dripping down her barely touched iced coffee while Madison stared at the local news report for the tenth time, hoping for some indication that things were less dire than they appeared. Nope, this was bad alright.

A small landslide had taken out the main bridge and water main into town. Emergency crews were on their way, but without access to fresh water the county health department had ordered all eateries closed. Not that anyone who wasn't already here could even get to town with the bridge out. During a three day weekend no less! Not only would no tourists be able to get into town, they weren't able to serve them if they could! Jenna's eyes fell on the filled display case and pastry racks, then onto the walk-in cooler behind them which she knew to be equally stuffed to the gills in anticipation of the start of the busy tourist season. Madison had already called their insurance, and their agent had assured them that the additional spoilage coverage rider they'd wisely added to their policy should soften the blow, but that still left a giant question mark on what to do. With the health department order, even donating the stock was out of the question.

To top it all off, their wedding cake client for Saturday had called off the wedding. They knew the bride personally, a friend from high school. Samantha was a gorgeous brunette, but her fiancée had gotten too comfortable with a stripper during the bachelor's party. The bride's brother had thankfully warned her of his cheating ways. The business women had of course refunded their friend, but that still left a massive, towering wedding cake languishing on a cart in the walk-in.

Jenna stood and snatched her digital camera from the desk, an artifact from her photography hobby she rarely had time for these days. She switched it on video and began recording the health department's shutdown order, then carefully walked through the bakery cataloging the anticipated losses of inventory, the rows and rows of tarts and cupcakes, towering flans, fluffy pies, holiday themed cakes, even mousses they'd worked up especially for today. Popping open the walk-in, she scanned whipped cream canisters at the ready for the vintage espresso machine, milk and eggs for fresh baking planned for tomorrow which would now not occur. Bucket after bucket of colorful cake frosting, commercially-bought was absolutely not good enough for their tastes. Batter and dough sitting in industrial mixer bowls. She ended the shot on a close-up of the wedding cake. She lingered on it, then ended the video. Returning to the desk, she slapped the memory card into her laptop and emailed the file to their waiting insurance agent.

Returning the iced coffee to her pink glossed lips, Jenna smirked for the first time. "Madison! Remember how we talked about shooting a catalog for online orders someday?" The cloud lifted on Madison's face a the corners of her mouth raised. "Yes...YES that's PERFECT!" she smiled as she realized there may be a silver lining here after all. An entire weekend and their full inventory.

Jenna grabbed a fresh memory card and her camera while Madison grabbed a tripod and a tablecloth, placing a small bud vase with a cluster of wildflowers in the center of one of the small cafe tables beneath the window. She plated a Boston creme pie while Jenna focused in. Jenna showed Madison the shot, perfect! Soon the girls were in a rhythm, pastry after pastry staged and shown in its best light. "These look so professional!" Madison gushed as they inspected their work. "All they need now is some action shots.

"SAMANTHA!" grinned Jenna, calling her friend who lived in an apartment just up the hill. "Samantha, do you want to get your money back on that wedding dress?" she asked, explaining her idea. "YES! I'll be right down!" she'd agreed without hesitation.

The bells on the front door jingled. "Sorry, we're closed!" shouted Jenna.

"I know!" grumbled a familiar voice, it was Kathy, the usually bubbly blonde from the clothing boutique next door. "I'm famished and everywhere in town is closed. I haven't had a single customer all day." she whined. "Wait, why do you have so many pies?" she wondered, surveying the pastries stacked on every surface.

"We can't sell anything so we decided rather than waste it we'd finally make an online menu and catalog with everything." Madison explained. Kathy helped herself to a cupcake. "These are delicious!" she gushed. "What are you going to do with them all?"

"Samantha is on her way over. We thought a fun Trash the Dess shoot would drum up business and help make up for the weekend."

Kathy bounced up and down "OOH! Can I help?! PLEEZEE?" she practically begged. Jenna shrugged. "Sure!" Kathy clapped her hands and rushed out to close her store.

Meanwhile Madison had set up a Boston Cream Pie on a cafe table in front of the tripod and recorded a slow-mo of custting a slice and plating it. "Now we just need you to take a bite." Jenna reached for the dessert fork and sawed off a chunk. "Not like that!" Madion groaned.

"Are you seriously telling me I don't know how to eat?" growled Jenna.

"You eat like you're shoveling gravel." Madison shot back.

"Maybe you should do it yourself." pouted Jenna, hurt.

"Feed you? Alright." smirked Madison. With the camera still rolling she mashed the remaining piece with her mand and smushed it into Jenna's shocked mouth, coating her lips and nose. The door opened again, Samantha filled the doorway in her very poofy princess-style wedding gown, her makeup and hair flawless. "Oh, you're starting without me?" she giggled, spotting the proprietor's messy face. Jenna cleared her face with a napkin and hugged Samantha. "I'm so sorry about your wedding!" she offered.

"Don't be, I suspected for awhile. Better to find out before the wedding than end up with a mistake." she smiled feebly. "So, what's the plan?" She added brightly.

Jenna thought for a second, "I'm not sure, I wasn't sure you'd say yes." she admitted. "I suppose it would be poetic to start with your wedding cake?" she smiled.

"PERFECT!" Samantha grinned, a wave of relief flooding over her face. The party moved to the massive cake in the walk-in, wheeling it out into the area beside the pie-laden prep tables. Kathy rejoined them, carrying her own camera and another tripod.

As Madison and Kathy negotiated backgrounds and camera angles, Samantha eyed the cake, a tear welling up. She sniffed. "Start recording." she ordered. Madison and Kathy complied, red LEDs glowing. Samantha reached elegantly towards the cake topper, flicking the groom off with her lithe finger. She delicately lifted the bride, licking the icing from its base, and gently set the figure aside on a nearby shelf, free.

The women were unprepared for what came next. Samantha lifted the top tier and slammed it into the bodice of her dress, forcing the cream, yellow cake and raspberry filling deep into her cleavage before dragging it down the front. The next layer received a similar fate as Samantha lifted the layer high above her head, slamming it down over her hair and allowing it to tumble thickly over the billowy tulle of the dress's skirt. The women were entirely unprepared for what came next. Samantha grabbed a stool, lifted up her skirt, and hopped up, planting her perfect butt squarely into the center of the last layers, wiggling her thighs back and forth and clawing the cake into her waistband, breathing heavily, her white heels swinging playfully off the cart as she allowed the mess to invade her, forcing frosting into every fold and layer of fabric. "This better not awaken anything in me." whispered Kathy tersely.

Samantha dragged her frosting, covered hands across her shoulders and up her neck before burying her face in a thick pile of cake filling, twirling her fingers through her once perfect hair, moaning softly. "Do we need to give you a moment?" asked Jenna politely.

"Not at all, in fact, why don't you join me?" purred Samantha with a smirk, lifting a nearby pie and slapping it into Jenna's face for the second time today. Jenna reached up with impeccable comedic timing, dragging her long fingers across her eyes to restore her vision. She lifted a massive strawberry mousse, "Oh, I wouldn't want to distract you, After all, it is your day." she grinned before upending the bowl over Samantha's hair which vanished in a wave of fluffy pink ooze, splattering Kathy and Madison.

"Hey, the cameras are here!" Madison grumbled. Jenna lifted another Boston Cream Pie. "Thanks for the reminder, I think we still had unfinished business from our shoot." Jenna growled as she ground the thick chocolate, custard and cream cake into Madison's shocked face. Kathy burst out laughing hysterically. At once the three dessert covered women shot her a glare. "You're a bit out of place being clean, Kathy." purred Madison. Each of the women selected a pie and heaved them in the blonde's direction, exploding in rapid succession across Kathy's face, chest, and tummy. All bets were off now.

Jenna raced back to the cooler, withdrawing bucket after bucket of the colorful but inferior commercially bought buttercream frosting. Prying open the lids, she scooped a fistful of garish orange, smushing it into Kathy's shocked face, before depositing fistfuls of electric blue into Samantha's hair, A bucket of lime green was slammed down over her head in retaliation. She giggled as the green icing destroyed her top.

What followed was a hurricane of sickeningly sweet desserts and uproarious laughter as dessert after dessert found its mark. Madison rushed to the cooler, returning armed with whipped cream canisters. She shook them ominously as she dual wielded messy devastation. Jenna found an industrial mixing bowl still loaded with thick chocolate batter. She wasn't sure by now who she was attacking, but she could tell by the gasps and moans that it had found a worthy target. The four friends collapsed into a sticky mess on the floor, occasionally reaching for the remaining pies and pastries. Soon hands were lingering, exploring, and efforts were focused in more private directions until soon the thick pool of mess on the ancient wooden floors was merely a sticky reflection of the mess of emotions coursing through the sticky women. Soon the only sound was squelching and heavy breaths, which eventually softened into soft happy moans, the cameras long since forgotten.

As the sunlight began to turn golden through the shop windows, the room thick with the scent of vanilla, spoiled dairy and chocolate, The women glanced around at the devastation of pies and cakes coating them from head to toe, then their eyes settled on one another. "How are we supposed to clean up without running water?" Jenna asks, somewhat nervously. The women eye each other and the destroyed bakery, then their eyes fall across the street at the empty beach and gentle waves lapping against the shore. A maniacal grin spread across Madison's sticky lips. "I have an idea! Try to keep up!" she giggled, and was off like a shot out the door, the other girls scrambling to keep up leaving a trail of sticky pie filling across the sand as they watched Madison leap into the waves beneath the last pink glow of sunset.

It was a boring Thursday morning and I was just lying in bed, naked apart from a pair of black knickers, working. Working from home had made me a little lazy. The kids had been taken to school be their dad and he was out doing some errands. He did say but I wasn’t listening, he said he’d be back at lunch. And I was propped up in bed on my laptop, no meetings today, just wading through a load of HR bollocks. So when I heard my neighbour, Lucy called my name, from over the fence, I assumed, I just ignored her. She called again a little louder. I’m normally in the office on Thursday but when my car is parked outside, she knows I’m home. But my car was in the garage getting something fixed. A part was recalled or something. So it was strange that she was calling out for me. But I’m randomly home today. Lucy’s voice floated through my open bedroom window once again. I ignored it. Not that I didn’t like Lucy. We were good friends ever since we moved in next door to her and Mark. Our kids played together, although theirs were a little older. But I just wasn’t in the mood for chatting over the back garden fence. The HR work was pissing me off and I wasn’t dressed, my makeup wasn’t done and my blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun.

She didn’t call out again. So, I carried on working. With my bedroom being at the back of the house, I could hear them, I assumed again, talking quietly and doing something in their back garden. I left them to it. I needed to get through this crappy work. There was a bit of giggling and whispering and moving of furniture. Eventually curiosity got the better of me. I put my laptop down and got out of bed, moving to the window but taking a step back to I could see their garden but they won’t be able to see me. Or so I hoped when I saw what they were up to. I was still just in my knickers with my little tits out!

At first I thought they were sunbathing. It was a warm day, so that made sense. That and both of them were topless, only wearing their underwear. Mark in a pair of CK boxers and Lucy in a sexy red thong (sexier than my big knickers!), her back was to me and I was surprised when she turned around with her pert little tits out on show. Nipples like bullets. Maybe it wasn’t that warm outside. I guess that’s why they were seeing if I was at home. Topless sunbathing. But there was something strange about the set up. Their sunbed was set up, horizontal with a 45 degree angle kinked in the middle. But just the one. And there was something placed on it.

I was trying to understand the scene, when I saw Mark lift a coin and spin it in the air, catching it in his right hand and flipping it onto the back of his left hand. Heads or tails. I had no idea what was going on. Was that a Costco sheet cake on the foot end of the sunbed? Like the ones they buy when everyone is round for a birthday party? But it wasn’t anyone’s birthday today was it? Oh shit no. This wasn’t for eating.

Lucy’s head was in her hands and Mark was grinning. Lucy must have lost the coin toss. What did that mean? This was much better than working! Mark kissed Lucy’s lips, then walked her to the edge of the sunbed. She wasn’t walking on grass, there was a clear plastic sheet on the grass under the sunbed. The sheet ran from under the sunbed to the decking. And their garden table was next to the decking laden with items. I couldn’t look at this in more detail as my attention was drawn to Mark, who push Lucy backwards onto the sunbed.

Thonged ass first, Lucy squelched into the sheet cake making white creamy mess explode under the weight of her bum and slosh between her open thighs. Wtf was going on? Mark followed her down and kissed her lips as he pushed her deeper onto the cake, making creamy goo ooze out between her thighs and god-knows where else! As Mark stood back up, Lucy had found a big bottle of Hersey’s chocolate syrup from somewhere. Without warning, Mark’s boxers were being held open and filled with runny chocolate.

I should have stopped watching by now, but I just couldn’t. I could see half of Mark’s erect cock sticking up from his boxers, coated in slick chocolate. And the syrup bottle now in his hands, with Lucy holding the front of her thong open, and Mark squeezing out the last drops of the bottle from above Lucy’s head into her thong. Her pussy must have been so sticky! Creamy sheet cake and chocolate sauce? Mine pussy was sticky and I was just watching. I was embarrassingly sticky.

Lucy shuffled back on the bed, away from the edge and lay on it. As a normal sunbathing person would do. Only her ass was smearing cake up the bed and her brown mess was oozing from the front of her red thong. Her bare heels were now squishing the remains of the sheet cake. She bent her knees so that she could squash the cake under her soles then stretched out again as Mark approached her. She put her hands behind her head and looked like she was relaxing. Then she muffled a moan as Mark emptied a huge tub of what looked like strawberry ice cream all over her toes, moving over her ankles, shins, knees and finally over her crotch. Her tanned skin was pink and glistening.

Mark walked away again, leaving Lucy rubbing her legs against each other and her toes over each foot, smearing the mess around. Two more tubs were placed near the sunbed, then Mark returned with what I can only describe as a slapstick style custard pie and can of whipped cream. With a whoosh, he topped the custard pie with a mound of cream. Then handed it to Lucy before walking away. Lucy remained stretched out, squirming in the mess.

Mark returned with another custard pie in his hands, topped with an even bigger pile of whipped cream on it. Lucy said something to Mark as he approached, her bare foot in the air pointed at him, pink slop dripping off her heel. He took her foot and sucked the ice cream from her toes, licking her bare sole from heel to ball in one stroke. She giggled and shook her head, placing her foot back on the bed and squelching it into the mess.

Mark straddled Lucy on the bed, his crotch on hers. The pie in his hand. He grinned said something then slapped it straight into Lucy’s bare tits. The splat was clearly audible from where I was standing. Well, where I was hiding. So was the return slap from Lucy straight into Mark’s face. As was Lucy’s giggling as his hands went from smearing creamy mess into Lucy’s tits to clearing pie from his eyes.

Mark leaned in for another kiss. This time it was long and deep, Lucy’s hands all over Mark’s back and head pulling him closer to him as their lips locked. Then when they parted, her face was splattered with creamy mess. Mark wiped some of the cream off her face with his fingers and licked them clean with a moan, then looked down at Lucy’s messy tits and licked them, sucking on her stiff little nipples. Then moving down even further.

Lucy’s messy ass remained on the sunbed, but her thong was slipped off by Mark. As he pulled them off her feet, I could see just how messy her pussy was with the chocolate sauce and sheet cake along with the custard and cream which had dribbled down her tits, over her little tummy and to her pussy. But the glistening mess on her pussy was soon to be cleaned away. Mark placed Lucy’s legs back down on the sunbed, parted and moved his messy face into her crotch. Lucy’s legs wrapped around his back, forcing his face down into her.

I was now watching Mark going down on Lucy in their garden. I should have stopped watching them a while ago. But here I was. Not only watching, but my right hand was inside my knickers and two of my chubby digits were inside my own pussy. And my other hand squeezing my rock hard nipples. I slowly rubbed myself as I imagined Mark was slowly licking Lucy’s pussy. My breathing matched her breathing. I wanted to cum with her. And It felt like she was getting close!

Then she reached over to one of the tubs Mark left by the sunbed. This seemed to be a signal. Mark must have stopped. I stopped too. With his face still in Lucy’s crotch, Lucy tipped a tub of yellow goo, which looked like melted vanilla ice cream, over the back of his head. He squirmed, then slithered his body round so he was positioned on his back, face up, the back of his slimy head and matted hair in Lucy’s crotch. Lucy continued to poor the yellow ooze all over his head and face. Mark was a mess. Not only was his head covered in ice cream, which Lucy took great delight in rubbing in, his chest was sticky from lying on the sheet cake.

Mark sat up, his back still to Lucy, who decided to flick mess from her chest and lap at his relatively clean back. Mark then stood up and faced Lucy. He was covered in mess and Lucy laughed at him. When he stood up, all the mess just dropped from his head and face and slopped down his body, including his cock which was still standing proudly from his boxers. He walked over to Lucy, who was still lounging on the sunbed.

With one hand, Lucy held Mark’s boxers open at the front, with the other, she scraped the mess off his torso and shoved it into his boxers. Both laughed as Lucy continued to make a mess of Mark, focusing on his cock. And it wasn’t long before Lucy was stroking his food covered cock, then repaying the favour, and kissing it up and down the shaft. Mark stepped out of his slime filled boxers and picked up another tub. It was green and looked like melted mint choc chip ice-cream.

My hand was back in my knickers just at the thought of what Mark was going to do next. A thought flashed in my head for a brief second about me wanting it over my little tits, big round belly and into my knickers for him to lick off. But this tub was for Lucy. They looked like a state. Mark was covered from head to knees in mess and Lucy was covered from tits downwards. And now Mark was getting help cleaning off. Lucy had taken the whole of his cock in her mouth. His chocolate member was getting cleaner and cleaner as Lucy’s mouth and tongue went to work on him.

I think I was getting close again. And it wasn’t long before Mark must have been too. As Lucy continued to suck him, he slowly tipped the green mess over Lucy’s perfect clean blonde hair. She stopped sucking and held his cock in her mouth as the cold green lumpy slop plopped on her head. I could see in Mark’s eyes how much he was enjoying messing up Lucy’s hair and face, he rubbed the mess in as he poured, not caring that when he poured it over Lucy’s face, it was also covering the end of his cock and balls. He even pulled his cock out of Lucy’s mouth to get covered in green gunk, then popped it back into her mouth. I was surprised he hadn’t cum yet either. They were edging. I was too. I wanted to see how this ended!

Lucy lay back on sunbed so I could see how mess Mark had just made her. Her hair and makeup were ruined with green mess, which she was scrapping out of her eyes. Her little tits and flat tummy a mixed mess of cream and green ice cream all pooling over her pussy again. Her legs were parted and she was squirming in the mess. They spoke. I couldn’t hear what was said, but the result was Lucy scooping up two cupped handfuls of mess from between her legs and throwing it down at the only part of Mark that wasn’t messy – his bare feet. He laughed and slipped around smearing the mess around under his soles and between his toes. His feet were now a multi-coloured slimy mess.

He then slipped and skidded on the plastic over to the table, bringing back two cartons that looked like they were filled with custard. As he was selecting this from the table, Lucy had spun around, her back to Mark and me. I was so surprised at how clean it was! Her long hair was green and slimy with some goo dripping down, but her shoulders and back were practically spotless. Mark gave the cartons to Lucy and returned to the table with two jugs. Lucy was sitting on her heels. Her bum and slim cheeks were smeared with mixed mess.

Mark straddled the sunbed, sitting behind Lucy, his bare ass squelching in the mess as he squirmed into position. He was so close to Lucy, his hard cock was resting on Lucy’s upturned soles. Then he began to pour. Lucy braced herself, arching her back as lumpy mess, rice pudding, was being poured over her shoulders and down her spine, covering every clean part. The creamy pudding engulfed her back and slopped down over her arse and then over Mark’s cock and Lucy’s upturned feet.

Mark was clearly enjoying himself. As was I. My knickers were thrown somewhere a while ago and I had dragged by stool over so I could lift my leg on it to get my fingers deeper into my pussy. Mark’s cock was rubbing the mess into Lucy’s soles and behind her toes. And Lucy’s toes were waggling and stretching in the mess playing with his cock and balls. Lucy kept shuddering as the mess slopped down her back, I thought at first it was from the feeling and texture of the food down her back, but it wasn’t. She too was fingering herself! I was so close to cuming again. I had to take a breath and stop.

The second jug Mark had was filled with black gunk. I must have been something like treacle. And it was being dumped over the back of Lucy’s long blonde hair and down her back. It made such a contract to the lumpy rice pudding and green ice cream. It was all mixed in with Mark’s hand, a slimy back massage. The mess ran down to Lucy’s bum which then also received a good groping and massaging before slopping over Mark’s cock which was still rubbing up and down Lucy’s soles and bum crack.

Mark pulled Lucy closer to him and whispered into her ear. His slimy chest rubbing all over Lucy’s messy back, transferring lumpy and sticky slime between their skin and making a really disgusting mess out of each other. Lucy carefully got up, leaving Mark still sat straddling the sunbed, completely covered in mess and now holding the two cartons of custard. It seemed that Mark was really close again! But then again, so was I.

Lucy returned to the sunbed with some sort of gooey gateaux. She placed it in front of Mark’s naked body. If Mark’s big cock wasn’t so hard and pointing to the sky, it would have planted straight into cake. Lucy left for the table again with the squirty cream. She sprayed the top of the gateau. Then she sprayed Mark in the face and laughed. Then she shook the can, shot some in her mouth and kissed Mark deeply and sensually. Then she broke the kiss off and went back to the table for two more tubs.

When she returned, still holding the tubs, she carefully stepped over the sunbed and straddled Mark. With his hands full, he couldn’t do anything to help her. But she managed to step over his thigh then sit on him, positioning herself on his lap, and her bare butt millimetres above the pile of cream on the gateau. She kissed Mark once again. My fingers were back inside me. Then she started pouring one of the cartons over Mark’s head. It looked like yoghurt. White and creamy through his already messy hair and down his face. He sat there and took it. Still holding on to the cartons of custard. With one hand free, she fed Mark’s rock hard cock inside her. Then sat down hard on it. They both laughed as her ass squelched into the gateau. Then she was up and back down on it riding Mark’s cock and getting a pied ass at the same time.

And that wasn’t all for Lucy. As she fucked him, Mark slowly tipped the two cartons of custard, one over her tits and the other over her head. As she slowly rode him, she arched her back and gave Mark a better target to mess up. Her little tits were yellow and slick with her little erect nipples poking through the goo. And her hair yellow, slopping mess down her back again. The last carton of mess was poured by Lucy over Mark’s chest so that it slithered and slopped, pink yogurt, down to his dick which was slipping in and out of Lucy.

Lucy controlled the rhythm. And mine too. Mark’s hands, now empty, were smearing mess into Lucy’s back as he held her steady, rubbing downwards and grabbing cake from under Lucy’s ass to smear into her skin. His mouth kept darting forward and licking, sucking and nibbling Lucy’s breasts and nipples. Lucy was just as bad, smearing mess all over Mark, then grabbing his face and kissing him, then pushing his face back into her tits with a moan. Yellow mess dripping off his chin and face and her body.

Faster and faster, the rhythm increased. As did mine. It wasn’t long for them to cum together. Mark let out the biggest groan as I could imagine Lucy’s tight slime covered pussy gripping his cock and extracting all that cum from his huge teased balls. Lucy shuddered too as she came on his spasming cock. I came too at the sight of the messy pair.

Lucy collapsed backwards, Mark’s dribbling cock slopping out of her, cum still oozing out over her thigh. I collapsed onto my stool and watched them cuddle on the sunbed, smearing mess over each other.

Are my neighbours perverts? Or am I for watching?

PLOP!

My world went cold, dark and creamy. I thrashed around, starting to freak out and gasp for air. A sensation of drowning crept over me before I quickly realised where I was. I was still in my giant pie bed. I must have rolled over too far and slipped under the still thick and heavy cream. I struggled to gain traction to pull myself up for air until my foam-crust bed gave me a lifeline. I resurfaced, totally re-covered and shivering from my wake-up plunge. For once, the extreme mess didn’t cause a heat to stir up inside me, instead I was cold, tired and slightly disgruntled. All I wanted was a hot soak to refresh and reset myself.

Bzzzt.

“Goooood morning Pie-nam! So sorry about your rude cold therapy this morning, completely accidental I can assure you. Now you are awake however, you’ll come to notice you are no longer in my basement of fun. Your bed was lifted vertically through the night and up into the backroom of the cottage. The sun is rising and shining strongly today, you’ll be warmed up in no time! You’ve been a great sport thus far, so a relaxing wash down awaits you, in the usual place. Just make your way there… Which leads me to my next instructions. I’m not quite finished within the living area, so if you could kindly head through the rear door, into the garden, round the house and back through the front door. You know where to go from there! I’ll catch up with you after your morning soak! Have fun.”

Wiping the thick cream from my eyes, I surveyed the room I was now in. I couldn’t believe I was lifted up from the basement below through the night, that must have been the moving sensation I noticed. My pie bed, bringing a flood of memories back, with it only being a mere few hours before I was hurtling down into its creamy depths before having fun inside and spending the night there. Scanning my new surroundings it was quickly noticeable this was some form of rear property extension, tall windows scattered three walls, with the side closest to the cottage adorning giant double doors. The living area was behind here, the room still filled with mystery. To my right lay the glazed external door, my next route and step closer to warm water bliss. I chose to wade through my creamy pit to reach this side, enjoying the sensations as I slowly trudged through and coming to terms that I was in fact clothesless, cool streaks rippled around my thighs and groin until I could pull myself up and over the edge of the comical pie tin. I opened the door and stepped outside.

I walked into a warm glass-clad room. Immediately, the cream coating my bare skin started to weep and drag itself downwards, making musical splats as the tile floor got messier by the second. I could see an outdoor tap with a hose attached, this was my opportunity. I turned the tap and was met with a blast of icy cold water, taking my breath away as quickly as the water shot out from the end of the hose pipe. I made a few turns and lifted my arms, then blasted down my legs to remove as much cream as possible until I was stamping around a murky puddle of mess. I managed to clear as much as I could before I could feel no more, and turned the tap off.

A small garden table was nestled in the corner, under a direct beam of sunlight and on top there was a teapot, jug of milk, various summer berries and a bowl of yoghurt.

Bzzzt.

“Breakfast with a view… a view for me that is! Please, help yourself, and enjoy the spread. Once you are happily satisfied, head on out to the garden, you’ll find the path back to the front of the house laid ahead of you.”

A view indeed, my body as bare as the day I was born, glistening under the diluted cream sheen that still covered my body. An oily layer that could be felt with each movement, but I was beyond concerned as I was hungry and now warm. I took my seat at the table and I quickly poured a cup of tea, holding it tight into my chest. This was a tranquil spot in the cottage I had yet to uncover, and although I was not quite dressed as I would have imagined, I felt at peace, able to unwind and take in the sights of the sprawling garden. Large hedges cascaded beyond the front of the greenhouse but I could see just enough to spot the wildlife and flowers that roamed this garden. As crazy and sometimes humiliating this trip has been so far, I think I was meant to be here, to let myself unwind and let go of all my inhibitions. This trip was liberating.

I picked from an array of berries, dipped in yoghurt and washed down with a cup of warm tea. I was satisfied, warm and raring to go. I creaked the single pane glass door into the garden and embraced the warm hug of direct sunlight. I stood, stretching my arms and legs outwards allowing the sun to soak into my skin. Fresh air, birds tweeting musical cheeps above and a gentle breeze that carried the countryside smells of flowers, grass and serenity within it. I turned and spotted a small wooden sign.

“THE GARDEN PATH.

FOLLOW THE HEDGE MAZE THROUGH THE GARDEN TO REACH THE GATE.

THE GATE LEADS BACK TO THE FRONT OF THE PROPERTY.

PLEASE MIND YOUR STEP.”

Something didn’t feel quite right. No crude or forewarning messages, nothing cryptic or conniving. Just a simple signpost and a route to be followed. Other than having to tackle this hedge maze stark naked, I didn’t feel out of place, maybe this was just a relaxing part of the morning before the real fun was to begin. I took a deep breath and headed inside the hedge maze. The hedges felt grand, and more intimidating the further I walked through the maze, standing nearly eight or nine feet tall, and as dense as a brick wall, it was truly impassable. A split decision presented itself almost half a minute of walking, left or right. Gut instinct and I chose left, this was the bearing back to the cottage afterall. And after another thirty seconds or so, I realised my mistake. Dead end. In true hedge maze fashion, I found myself sighing then retreating back to my original point. I kept walking, but this time it was now nearing double the time it took me to get here in the first place. Where was the fork in the road? “Am I going crazy?” I spoke to myself, giggling afterwards as I most likely was if I’m asking myself these types of questions. I continued round a bend, then another, until I reached a long stretch ahead.

I gazed upon what I had just uncovered. Sprawled out, some twenty feet in length lay a murky pit, with a thick glooping clay substance shimmering on the surface. A twin-rope walkway stretched from one end to the other, where I would have to balance my feet on the lower section, and hold onto the top rope. I knew how this was going to work, and how it would likely end, but if I could do anything about it, it would be to beat the host at his little game and get home as clean as I started.

I grabbed onto the rope, shimmied my feet in place and started my traverse across the clay pit below me. The sun was peering down the corridor of mud that I was only mere inches above and I could feel the heat warming my body, the clay getting softer under the direct sunlight. I managed to halfway across, claiming victory in my head that I could finish this. But suddenly, the rope slackened the closer I got to the middle, and I could see that a red band marked both the top and bottom rope. I wobbled about, my bare bum leaning downwards getting dangerously close to the mud, but I managed to regain composure. I straightened up, spread my arms and feet as wide as I could to distribute my body weight, exposing myself in all my glory as much as possible, and stopped wobbling. “Great, let's get this over with!” I proudly said to myself right before I witnessed the red bands pop from in front of me. Both ropes splitting in two, my sprawling arms and legs spread wider with the release of tension disappearing, and my open body dropping below. It happened in slow motion as the ropes vanished away from me, I felt the cool, thick, creamy clay swallow my feet, then quickly my thighs and bum. I kept sinking, until the clay had swallowed me whole. I vanished in an audible gulp from the clay.

Bubbles surfaced from below and with an eruption I sprung back up for air. The trench was deep, nestled gently against my chest when I stood tall. I slowly dragged my hands over my face, fingers clawing out the thick mass that was shielding my eyes. My jaw dropped in disbelief, another set up I thought to myself. How could I be so naive. The clay was heavy, and unlike anything I had felt before. It became part of my being as I tried to wade across to the other side of the trench. Suction pulling me back into place. It took effort, more than I anticipated, but I reached the end. A muddy sheer face was all that was left to get back onto the track. Reaching up, pulling my weight and half the trench along with me, I could see over the top and back to the path. It took longer than I liked to admit, I blame the clay opposed to my athleticism.

I looked over the thick coating that was on my body, clinging perfectly to every curve and bump, I was liking how it looked, and felt. Shaking the thoughts from my mind I carried on forward. A few more twists and turns and I was now met with what appeared to be a miniature assault course. A rope swing, climbing wall and monkey bars. Each with their own murky demise for any form of failure. No sign, no direction, just one task that laid ahead. First up was the rope swing, a large deep crossing, filled with nothing else but more clay. Its appearance was more menacing this time, it felt deeper, felt messier than before. I stepped up onto the ledge, grabbed the rope as tightly as I could and launched myself across. I wrapped my legs around the rope, instinctively, but this was my first mistake. I couldn’t get traction with the existing clay that covered me already and the more I tried the more I could feel the rope digging in between my legs. I had overthought this and missed my opportunity to let go and make it across. I was now slowing down and hanging directly above the pool below. No matter how much momentum I tried to reintroduce it was failing. I gulped and knew my fate. I tried to resist sliding down, but the rope burn between my legs was getting too intense. I let go and plummeted.

SCHLOOP!

I disappeared once again. Deeper than before, the clay was smoother and runnier, and gave less resistance than my first coating. I tried to resurface but quickly realised I couldn’t stand in this. I kept going under, and reemerging for breaths before dunking myself again. I had to try to stay afloat and swim to the other side. Easier said than done. I found my motion, nothing like swimming in water but I could make my way through the brown pit I was in until I reached a netting, grabbing on for life and hulking myself back to solid ground. The softer clay was running off of me and I managed to clear it out my face with ease. That’s when I spied the monkey bars were next. Another deep drop below contained my fate for any mistakes, which was a given now my hands were coated in slick clay. The mess below was not what I was expecting. I was unsure on what it was exactly, but I could only describe it as whipped mud. It had the appearance and colour of mud, but it contrasted itself with the fluffy and whipped texture in which it was held. I had nothing left to do but attempt my next obstacle. I jumped up and gripped onto the first bar, easier than I thought, and slowly started making my way forward one bar at a time. The bars themselves were textured and provided some grip, that was at least until I reached the sixth bar. This bar spun under my hands, a purposeful trap set up to ensure I met my mess no matter what. My grip was lost instantly as the bar spun, my fingers reaching outwards as I once again plummeted down.

FLOOMPH!

The mess was thick, creamy-like and felt completely new. It was an air-treated clay foam. Heavier duty than regular foam, clinging to every surface and offering no resistance as I slipped under a good few times. I fought my way through the thick mess, unsure on what direction I was heading as I couldn’t clear my eyes, the mess growing over the top of me and smothering me at every movement. I could feel myself getting stirred up inside, the sensations were overwhelming and my excitement growing until I felt a net under my hands. I heaved myself back to the top and spread the mess around, attempting to clear as much as possible. The mess flew off me in blobs and the feeling of it spread across my skin was a delight. I basked in the mess for a little longer until I was happy I had cleared enough from me to progress. It was the wall climb, a near sheer wall, some ten feet in height lay before me. A single rope dangled from the top to provide me some assistance. I trudged over and stood beneath the rope. I have been here long enough now to know when a trap is a trap. I held my arm out wide, looked up and gave the rope a strong tug and awaited my fate. But nothing. Nothing came careering down on top of me, the rope stayed intact, and no mess had erupted from hidden doors. I felt slightly deflated as I grabbed hold of the rope once more, and planted my feet either side against the wall. I took my time, making sure each step was perfect as a fall from here would be nothing but painful. No muddy pit to cushion the blow. And then I reached the top, and peered over.

I was now the height of the hedges that surrounded me, and I could see the roof of the cottage and its walls a stone-throw away. But as I looked over the other side of the wall I had climbed, it revealed itself. A huge slide back to ground, the ground however was a 12-foot inflatable pool, filled to the brim with black gunge. And just beyond it, the wooden gate, my freedom. I only knew of one way out and it was down. I gingerly swung my legs over the edge and rested them against the sloped face, took a deep breath, crossed my arms and let myself go. I slid at pace, the previous messes creating a lubricated launch pad from my body as I dunked straight into the pool. It was thick, it was viscous. The gunge had slowed me down and I came to a stop deep in the middle. I swished my arms and legs to position myself upright and emerged from the dark depths. Gunge dripping from me in long slimy trails. Bubbles blowing from my mouth and nose. Clearing my eyes was fruitless, the slime clung hard and it was a losing battle. I stepped forward, slipping immediately back under the pool of gunge, this repeated nearly with every step until I realised I was better just crawling through the thick mess. I reached the wide inflatable edging of the pool and leaned against it, catching my breath and attempting yet again to clear my vision. I had to shake viciously to sling most of the slime off my hands and arms, repeating this after every wipe until I could see.

I hauled myself over the edge back onto firm ground and made my way for the door. It was locked. “Oh C’mon!” I yelled loudly, cursing the trials I had just undergone to not get out. Flashbacks to the outhouse pie-dive game flooded back and I looked up. There it was, of course, the key to the door attached to a small string. I yanked the key down, and watched my demise unfold. A bucket of feathers tipped over, raining down in a gentle cloud of destructiveness. Each feather found its home upon my gunge clad body and stuck tightly. As the flurry around me came to a stop I opened my eyes and took in the embarrassing new look I was now adorning. I sneezed a couple times from the tickles of the feathers and tried the key in the lock. Success, it creaked open and I stepped out from the hedge maze, and back into the driveway of the cottage. The space opened up around me, and I no longer felt claustrophobic. I tip-toed over the stone driveway, making sure not to stand on anything too sharp and reached the front door. It glided open, just as the host promised and I stepped back into familiar territory.

The reception hall was empty, no giant inflatable pool, no mess, just clean hardwood flooring, warm air and my golden ticket to the bathroom and my long soak in the shower. My footsteps made loud splats across the flooring as I entered the bathroom. I stood staring at myself in the mirror, I was a walking contradiction with the amount of dark coloured mess that hung to me, while standing in the pristine tiled bathroom. I cranked the hot top on, let the shower steam up the full room and stepped inside. The cascade of warm water hugged me as I allowed the morning mess to drip down the plughole, followed by a deep and thick lathering of soap through my hair and over my body. The previous night's cream filled slumber that left its residue on my skin was finally cleaned off as well. I smelled fresh and felt amazing. I spent the next twenty minutes just letting the water wrap itself around me as I stood motionless, my senses felt like they had a factory reset, back in my own body and embracing the cleanliness. I had endured so much mess over the last two days I had got myself stuck in a loop of short-lived cleanliness and mess filled fun. This was needed and I did not intend to finish it sooner than I had to.

My time in the shower was called off once I felt the water cooling down and the hot water dissipating. I drip dried inside the shower where the steam still kept the air warm until I could step out back into the bathroom. A fluffy robe with matching fluffy slippers lay at the foot of the shower, I picked them up, wrapped myself up and took a seat next to the mirror.

Bzzzt.

“I hope you enjoyed your shower and were able to unwind following this morning’s events. You sure tackled that hedge maze with gusto, I must admit. Bravo.

I’m feeling generous, for now, and would like you to enjoy some more of your own personal quality time for this afternoon. It’s the least I can do. The cottage is yours to enjoy, there are food and treats available in the kitchen, or feel free to nibble at the personal buffet set up in the dining room. Fancy a stroll in the grounds, the garden is yours to enjoy, or simply kick your feet up and relax back in the bedroom. I’ll let you know when you are needed next for some more…fun. In the meantime, enjoy!”

Wow. This might be the first time I was not given any instructions or direction on what I should be doing, going or wearing. It was…unknown. My whole time at this stay, hell, even before I arrived was dictated by the host and they had done a great job of it too. I wasn’t quite sure where to begin. I finished drying off in the bathroom, and decided to head upstairs, maybe there might be some clothes I can get changed into before I get on with the rest of my day?

I climbed the staircase from the bathroom and was greeted by my plush, warm and spotless bedroom. The bed was plump and pristine. A chilled glass container of water with a wedge of lemon sat on the bedside table, and nestled on the chair was a pile of clothing. I pulled it apart to survey my outfit of choice, if choice was an appropriate use of the word. It was basic and simple. Some snug fitting jogging bottoms, socks, underwear and a loosely fitted t-shirt completed the look. All of which was a wash of grey neutral tones. Flat and unassuming. I made my way back downstairs, through the bathroom and over into the kitchen. Again, everything was pristine and placed with precision. The host went through real care and consideration to make everything appear as clean and presentable as possible, a real contrast to what they set up behind closed doors. Arrays of fruit platters, small baked pastries and a freshly brewed pot of coffee was on standby. I filled up and nibbled on some pastries before exploring the personal buffet that was noted before. The dining room table adorned various silver tray platters of all sorts of food stuff. I grabbed my plate and took from every tray offering until my plate was bulging at the sides. I pulled out my seat and tucked in.

By the time I was finished, I took some time to walk around the rooms in more detail, taking note of the intricate nic-nacs that loitered the shelves and the artwork that hung regally from the walls. Everything was perfect and in place. I even tried the pantry where I was blasted with substance after substance only a couple days before, but now, clean, and filled to the rafters with tinned good and dry ingredients. I was literally spending my time in an Air BnB stay that I had booked, but no longer felt any joy or excitement. Boredom washed over me and I secretly begged the host to chime in with some more fun. Sunlight was diminishing behind the treeline outdoors and so there was nothing left to do than grab a few more nibbles and retreat back to my bedroom to relax and ponder on what my next event may be.

Bzzzt.

“Good evening! I hope you’ve enjoyed your day to yourself and recuperated your energy in time for tonight's fun. I’m sure you will be just as excited as I am for what we have in store. Tonight is the final night of your stay. I have completed the set up for tonight's event which will be hosted in the main living room. How exciting!

Please take a look inside the wardrobe and get ready. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs. See you soon!”

This is it, finally, I was growing bored of waiting and was craving my next messy twist of the stay. I quickly threw myself out of the bed and rushed to the wardrobe to find my next outfit. Another bow-tied box sat neatly centred inside. I pulled it out and opened it up. Inside was a gameshow two piece, made up of a really short pair of red tight shorts, that clung to me tightly, and a simple white top. A pair of cotton white socks finished the look. Under the clothing in a black pouch. It had weight to it and clinked as I picked it up. Inside were two pairs of handcuffs. Now my mind really started to run wild, what were these going to be used for? I carried them with me downstairs and I stood outside the infamous living room door. The only room I had not been in yet, or at least to my knowledge anyway. I turned the handle and it slowly swung open. I stepped inside and took in my new surroundings. A spacious room, one of the largest in the whole cottage welcomed me. Sprawled out in front of me was a very obvious purpose built structure, a bright blue plastic kiddie slide that disappeared into a large cavernous box. The box was like many items I’ve come across, inflatable and was nearly as tall as the room, tall enough to stand in at least. It was long and wide, and didn’t appear to have other defining features. No entrance or exit, no gaps or windows or openings of any kind. Just a big inflatable room. The only way in was via the slide which squeezed through a tight opening, not allowing any vision to what was hidden inside.

Further to the main attraction in the room were tables spread across the far wall, each table was laden with various colourful pies. Ranging from the basic thick topped glossy white cream, to pink, blues, greens and yellows. The cream was thick and deep in each, menacing yet inviting. Lastly, there was a perspex tank on the final wall, with a padded bucket seat sat in the middle. A number of chains and pipes were contorted and hung from within the tank.

Bzzzt.

“And here we are, please put your hands together for our very prestigious, very fun-loving and very sexy guest! You look quite the part for our final night gameshow. Don’t worry, this gameshow has an audience of one…me. And you are the star contestant who will take on each task laid ahead of you. Complete all tasks and complete your stay here. You will get your final night's sleep and be ready for your departure tomorrow morning. How sad. I sure will miss all the fun we have had this weekend, but hey, the night is not over yet.

You will find an array of items and tasks laid ahead. You’ll also notice the pairs of handcuffs dutifully provided. Now all you need to do is lock yourself in. One pair is for your ankles, and the other for your hands. I recommend cuffing your hands behind your back for maximum enjoyment! Once locked in, hobble over to your first event, the tanks of pleasure. Get yourself seated and comfy. There are various chains at your disposal, grab a hold with your teeth and keep pulling until confetti falls. Your first key will be presented, unlocking one of your handcuffs. Have fun!”

If this was to be my final night then I should go out with a bang. I held the handcuffs in my hands and contemplated what I was about to do, putting myself in this position, with only myself to rely on getting back out once the locks had shut. I composed myself, arousal stirring inside but decided to go for it. “Fuck it, lets do this thing!” I exclaimed. I sat leaned over and began to fasten the first set around my ankles, keeping the cuffs on top of my socks to avoid any unnecessary scraping as I attempted to waddle through the room. The clamped shut and provided almost no room for movement. A deep breath, and next were my hands. I thought about locking them to my front, but the host did say behind my back would be more exciting. I reached round my back, fumbled for a minute, and snapped. The last pair were locked shut and I was now helpless, I was at the mercy of the host and my own abilities to get through what lay ahead.

My steps were small and filled with effort as I skirted around the perimeter of the room making my way to the tank. The clear tank stretched up to the ceiling where ominous covered containers were hidden at the top. Once inside I heard the door shut close behind, a lock mechanism had activated and there was no handle to open it from the inside. This was it, I had to see through what was next in store if I wanted to get out and progress any further. The seat was nestled dead centre within the tank, a bright red rubber padded chair, with a deep bucket arrangement allowed me to be planted inside, hands comfortably nestled behind me. The bucket forced me to sink deep and expose my upper half and my waist. Once sitting, I could analyse the various chains that dangled around me, all within reaching distance with my mouth. The chains had small black balls at the end, presumably to assist in holding them in my mouth while I yanked them downwards. The lights in the room went dark and a colourful spotlight shined from above, I was now the centre of attention. Cheesy gameshow music played softly in the background, the noise was welcome to get rid of the damning silence. There must have been at least ten, if not more, chains to choose from, and I had no option but to pick at random and hope for the best. I leaned in, played with the chain and ball around my chin until I successfully got my lips around it. I took a breath and pulled hard.

A claxon blared around me, the light strobed various colours before a deluge of thick purple gunge poured from above, it ran straight down the back of my t-shirt, the seat filled and it entered my shorts. I leaned back from the shock and my head was coated instantly, a riptide of thick gunge smothering my face. I tried to shake and dodge the plume but it was thick and fast flowing, no matter how much I moved it got me. The gunge drop finally subsided and trickled on top of my head. I shook my face to clear as much as I could and I regained focus. Once I could compose myself, I reached about until another chain slipped my lips and I grabbed on tightly. Another claxon, this time hoses from either side of my head pumped into life, custard sprayed with velocity, a custard sandwich enveloped my head and made a contrasting mix with the previous purple gunging. I stayed where I sat letting it coat me all over. A third chain was pulled on quickly after, and after a short delay neon green gunge erupted from the chair I was sitting in, hidden jets surrounded the bucket seat and quickly filled it to the brim before spilling over the sides. My shorts and pants were filled and soaked beyond repair, the cool sensation of my crotch being permanently submerged left my mind in overdrive. I had to keep going, another chain pulled and more gunge dropped from above, this time baby blue gunge formed a new layer over me, thicker than the previous gunging I was struggling to shake it from my face. I had to now feel the air around me hoping to land a chain by chance. After some poor attempts I landed one, pulled hard and was met with a forceful eruption of foam. It sprayed from above, the sides and even a plume directly in front of my face. My world went dark as I was swallowed by the ever increasing mountain of foam that entombed me. I had to stop and try to shake off as much as possible, using my shoulders to create an opening for my mouth. I was starting to heat up, urges were flowing through me but I was hopelessly handcuffed and well restrained. My mind calmed, I could breath and I could see a chain that was sitting further away than the rest. I heaved through the pool of mess around me and managed to get a hold of the chain. The mess suctioned around my now soaked ass and pulled me back in with an audible squelch as the chain came with me. The lights around me flashed gold and a confetti cannon exploded. Paper confetti stuck itself to me in an instant and the colourful celebrations only meant one thing. Or so I thought.

Bzzzt.

“We have ourselves a winner! Congratulations on finding the winning chain, your reward, your key to partial freedom! If you could please stand up to receive your reward and we can get you on your way to the next task.”

I stood up, with some effort, and the gunge, custard and foam that pooled around me sloshed onto the floor. The floor was now at least a foot deep of various mixed colours and substances that was safely secured in the tank. I turned to face the chair as an alarm bell started to ring out and a spotlight illuminated the chair in isolation. The tank above gurgled to life once more, a hatch opened and the key dropped out landing squarely in the centre of the bucket seat. But suddenly the tank began to dispense an extremely viscous and thick batter like substance, bright pink in colour. It filled the seat half way, until the tank stopped and then started spraying out a deluge of thick heavy whipping cream. It was like witnessing a giant baker's piping bag fill my chair with precision, a swirling motion of cream rained down in a thick stream before swirling off the top into a neat peak. The tank finally stopped, not before a tiny little red cherry plopped down and nestled itself into the cream peak.

Bzzzt.

“Your key to freedom is yours, if you can retrieve it that is. Good thing your hands are secured behind your back. Just plop yourself back down and have a feel around, I'm sure you'll find it soon enough. And please stand still for one last moment before you get started!”

On the hosts final words, I felt a metal protrusion reach around my waist, holding on to me tightly, it grabbed hold of my ruined shorts and ripped back fast and hard. But it wasn't just my shorts it grabbed a hold of, my pants were stolen away from me in a blink of an eye. I froze, feeling the air and cooling mess drip down onto my freshly revealed crotch and bum. “Oh well played, well played!” I retorted with a slight giggle afterwards. Well there was nothing left to do but find my key in the deep pit of mess that presented itself. I spun around once more, shuffled myself back towards the chair and hovered my bare bum directly above the seat. With a final deep breath I dropped, fast at first, until I could feel the cream spread over my cheeks and crotch, entering between my legs the more I squatted and spread myself. The feeling was immense, a sensory overload, and I slowed my descent and enjoyed the sensations more. I kept sinking deeper and deeper. The cream erupted from between my legs under the pressure, a large glob hitting me directly in the face before I licked it off from my lips. Next was the batter, and the sensation was different. It oozed and moved around me as I kept lowering down, forcing its way into me and around every crevice. I didn't want the sinking feeling to end, but eventually my cheeks hit the bottom and I could feel the key pressing into my skin from below. I tried to rummage my hands around behind me as much as I could but it was hopeless. The moving mass of mess started to reignite the urges within me and soon I was gyrating and sloshing around the mess faster and faster. I wished for my hands to be free so I could enjoy this moment in the full but it wasn't needed in the end. I exploded in orgasm sending shockwaves and shivers through my body until I slouched back into the mess.

Bzzzt.

“My oh my, you don't seem to be very good at this key-grabbing task now do you, but you certainly are having fun. How about I give you a helping hand. I'll let you use your mouth instead, call it practice for your next task…”

I begrudgingly accepted defeat in grabbing the key with my restrained hands and slid off forward into the pool of gunge below. I landed on my knees, the gunge pool cradling my burning groin as I rocked in the mess to calm back down. I managed to turn myself around and face the chair. The remnants of my seat now a goopy pit of mess. Before I could dive in to search for the key, more cream dispensed from above, and spiraled into a neat peak once again, topped with another cherry for good measure. I laughed at my own naivety for thinking it would be an easy ride. I leaned my head back, took a deep breath, and plunged my face deep into the pit of cream. My ears were filled instantly, all noise disappeared and my vision now blinded. I could only feel around hoping to get the key. I resurfaced for a breath, the mess was so deep I don't think I even reached the bottom yet. The cream hardly disturbed. I had to go all in, all or nothing, if I was to ever get out of here. So I shimmied my chest against the chair and propped my legs up this time, instantly forcing my head under the surface. I kept standing and before I knew it my shoulder and upper back were now submerged in the mess. My nose touched the base and I felt around quickly. Result! The key brushed past me and I scrambled to get it locked between my lips, erupting from the chair in a spray of cream and batter. I had done it! I got the key! But how was I going to release myself now? I didn't want all this effort to be wasted. I knelt back down in the pool of gunge and dropped the key from my mouth in front of me. Keeping an eye on where it landed, I shimmied forward until my hands were above where I had dropped it. Crouching down I felt around in the mess before I picked it up with my fingers. I played with the key for a few minutes attempting the lock on my wrists but it was no use. My ankles were next but reaching them was going to be no easy feat. The more I stretched and contorted myself the harder it got, until I eventually landed on my chest. The pooling of leftover mess surrounded me. Once again I was saturated and slimed. My face submerged I had to work fast to break free. Splashing around I finally felt the key slide into position, and with a quick turn the handcuffs sprung open, my legs released and relaxed. I rolled over and caught back my breath, stretching my legs to bring life back to them.

Bzzzt.

“Congratulations! You made it through my first task, and might I say what a show you have put on for me tonight! And we're only getting started! Now that your feet are free, you'll be able to make your way to our second event of the night. Here we have another key on offer, but it will take some effort to retrieve this one… Best of luck!”

With my new found freedom, or at least some of it I stood up out of the mess and let the thick deluge slip slowly down my body, watching each and every drop land in the pool beneath me. I turned to face the door and used my elbows to push open the door but to no avail. “Hey, any help here please…”

Bzzzt.

“Ah, the door, your next obstacle. I did say earlier that the key was only partial freedom… you still have to unlock the door to be able to make it to the second task. For the door to open it's simple really. Although by chance you pulled the correct chain to find the key, you still haven't pulled ALL the chains. The door will only open once each and every chain is pulled. I'll let you decide how to proceed with this next step…”

“Oh ho ho, you just never let up do you!” I screamed back, while accepting my only path out of this cubicle. There were 5 chains in total left to pull, and I wasn't waiting around anymore, I quickly positioned my face under the first chain, grabbed between my teeth and started pulling.

Klaxons immediately started blaring, light danced around the tank and suddenly blasts of multicoloured streams of gunge started pouring from above, but in this case they never stopped. I was getting smothered the longer I stood and there was no room to avoid the streams either. I moved to the next chain, face up and directly under a pink stream of gunge, trying my best to pull the next chain. Yank! Small spurts of white creamy foam started shooting at me from around the tank, every other second a new spurt would catch me. First on the back, next my legs, chest and groin and my head. The gunge was still streaming from above, and the tank was starting to fill fast. It reached my thighs and wasn't slowing down. The third and fourth chains I managed to pull one right after the other, with a combo-punishment unleashed on me. First came a thick torrent or heavy batter straight from above and a direct impact on my head, the oozing motion enveloping my upper half, and second a quick fire round of whipped cream cannons burst to life, covering the rest of my body. I could no longer see or feel, and the gunge pool still rising beneath me was now past my naval entering up through my top. I frantically bobbed about, trying my best to not slip and go under the mess, trying to find the final chain, until I felt it brush my chin. I reacted fast and got my mouth around it, and pulled one final time.

The force of my pull sent me downwards, straight below the depths of my slimy demise, the world falling silent around me. I found my footing and pushed back up towards the surface where only my head was now free. I was in a vertical tomb of gunge, sensations overloaded me and I was about to run out of breathing room until the streams of gunge subsided. Everything powered down, the Klaxons stopped and the lights returned. I managed to catch my breath before I heard a loud click coming from the door.

I turned to face the door and noticed an opening in the door, at perfect head height and flipped open, a small note hanging from a seemingly invisible string dangled just out of sight. I sloshed myself through the gunge until my face met the hatch, but I still couldn't read it, not just from the dripping mess on my face but the writing was too small. I pressed hard against the door and pushed my head out the hole so I could get a closer look.

“CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED TASK ONE. PLEASE SHOUT LOUDLY ‘LET ME OUT’ AND THE DOOR WILL UNLOCK”

Why did I have to push my head through the hole just to read that stupid note?

“Let me out!” I shouted, rolling my eyes simultaneously.

SPLAT!

A perfectly mounded and round white cream pie ejected itself from behind the note and landed cleanly across my face, full coverage.

I stumbled back into the tank from shock and tripped, sending me back down into the gooey grave. Before panic set in, the gunge started to drain away fast around me leaving a rather embarrassed cream faced gunge soaked figure sitting on the floor. The door slowly sprung open and I managed to stand back up and out of the tank.

If this was only the first task, what do I have in store for me next?

To be continued.

Marina takes a deep breath to center herself before knocking on the door.
"Come in."
She hadn't spoken to Dean Fausett since he congratulated her for making the Dean's List last semester.
"Ah, Ms. Maldonado. Please, sit. And close the door behind you." His tone had turned dour. "Do you know why I asked you to come speak with me?"
"Your email didn't say, just that it was urgent."
"It's regarding your final paper for History of Performance Art."
Marina's stomach drops. She knows what the Dean is about to say but hopes and prays she's wrong.
"Our systems show that the paper was entirely AI generated."
"Oh! Erm... those aren't reliable, are they?"
"They are not, but Professor Klein and I noticed some suspicious phrasing."
He reads a highlighted passage:

It's not enduring torture — it's highlighting the interplay between working class citizens and their labor.

Marina looks down at her lap, realizing she's been caught. She doesn't know what to say.
"In case you were unaware, submitting a paper you did not write yourself is considered cheating by the university's academic integrity standards."
"What- what does that mean for me?"
"We take cheating very seriously here at Merian University. At a minimum you will fail this course, and without it you do not have enough Culture & Expression credits to graduate."
Marina's world was crashing down around her. She had always been a good student, and now she wasn't going to graduate on time! How would she explain this to her mother?
"Please, Dean Fausett, there must be something I can do. My family is flying out to watch me walk tomorrow, and I can't afford to come back for another semester for a gen ed class."
"Normally I wouldn't make any exceptions, but you have been an exemplary student outside of this incident. I've spoken with Professor Klein, and he informed me that there were two options for his final: a paper, or a performance piece devised and performed by the student. He's agreed to let you do a performance in place of this paper."
Marina is overcome with emotion. She really needs this but has no idea how to pull it off.
"You're telling me I need to come up with a performance art piece and perform it before graduation tomorrow morning?"
"It's that or fail."
"Okay. Okay. I will come up with something. I better get going."
"Best of luck, Ms. Maldonado."
Marina rushes back to her dorm. Campus is quiet. Most of the students had gone home by now. The only people left are graduates and those enrolled in the summer semester, all celebrating the end of finals week. Except Marina. She messages her fellow engineering graduates to let them know she can't party tonight. She texts her family group chat to fill them in and ask for ideas.

Tío Danito: recibida
Received what?
Tío Danito: graduation tradition back in Argentina
What is it?
Mamá: You don't want to do it
Tío Danito: friends and family ambush graduates, cutting and ripping their clothes before pelting them with eggs, flour, whatever they can think of Benji: LMAOOO 💀. Mamá: Daniel! Why would you suggest this por mi gordita? Actually this sounds perfect. Tonight I can go to the big box store for supplies then we can do it tomorrow morning before graduation. Mamá: Por favoooor I need something I can do quick and easy or else I can't graduate.

In just an hour and a half, Marina buys her supplies from the store, spends her last printer credits on fliers that she puts up on her way back to her dorm, and sends an email to Professor Klein:

For my AH138 final, I will be performing a graduation ritual from my homeland, Argentina. Graduates are covered with flour, hit with raw eggs, have their clothes torn, and are generally messed up to celebrate their achievement. I will be doing mine tomorrow morning, outside the auditorium, one hour before the graduation ceremony. My family and friends will be there. I will also be live streaming it on my YouTube so my relatives back home can witness my performance. Attached is a picture of the fliers I've put up around campus with the link to the stream. You are welcome to join us in-person or virtually. Either way, please enjoy Mi Recibida.

Marina double checks that the email was sent and heads to party with her friends. They have mixed responses to finding out about this performance.
"Couldn't you have picked something less embarrassing?"
"That's gonna be so gross, how are you gonna clean up before walking?"
"Deadass? I'm gonna come and empty out my minifridge."
Marina enjoys her final night on campus and wakes up with a bit of a headache. She dresses in a white university tee and light blue sweatpants that she picked up in the bookstore freshman year. She clips her hair back, grabs her supplies, steps into her shower flip-flops, and heads outside to greet her family and set up her performance.

"¡Hola! In about an hour, inside this auditorium, I will be receiving my Bachelor's degree in Engineering from Merian University. In my homeland of Argentina, graduates receive... something else. Lots of things, actually. A trashing at the hands of their loved ones. I am here with mi mamá, mi tío, mi hermano behind the camera, and my friends. I have invited them to celebrate my graduation the Argentine way and even brought some supplies for them. Please enjoy Mi Recibida."
The camera shakes as Benji hurls an egg towards his big sister. She jumps as it smashes into the wall of the auditorium.
"Hey! That woulda hurt me! And keep it on the tarp please."
"How about we start you off easy sobri?" Daniel grabs a bottle of chocolate syrup and approaches his niece. He hoists it over her head, causing her to hunch her neck and shoulders in anticipation. Marina looks up as he squeezes the bottle, squirting the sweet syrup onto her face. She looks down, buries her face in her hands, then pulls her hands away once they contact the chocolate. Daniel keeps the drizzle steady, dark sauce disappearing into his niece's jet black hair, much more visible as it seeps past her neck onto her white shirt. The bottle sputters out the last of its contents and Marina lifts her head.
"Gracias, Danito." She forces a smile. "Who's next?"
"Mana, aren't you proud of tu gordita?" Daniel goads on his sister.
"I'm very proud of you sis!"
"Thank you Benji! You showed me when you tried to take my head off with that egg. Just make sure the stream keeps going. Mamá, dale, animate."
"Fine, si insistís." Marina's mother picks an egg from the carton, taps it against the table, and approaches her daughter.
"¡Felicitaciones!"
Marina shudders as the egg shatters against her scalp, raw egg rushing down her body in a flash.
"That's it, ya terminé."
"Gracias, mamá. C'mon everyone, don't be shy."
Marina's roommate Madison takes the egg carton and starts handing them out to the rest of the group. They approach their friend, incredulous that she's asking them to do this. Marina feels another egg slam into her hair, then another, then another. The back of her collar is pulled open and an egg is smashed against her neck, sending raw egg down her back. Eggs continue to crash against her. She doesn't know how to react, this is an assault on her senses. When the mess stops Marina opens her eyes and sweeps the eggshells off her crown. Before they hit the ground, she hears the distinct sound of a soda can cracking open. She's suddenly showered with sparkling liquid that soaks her shirt. It has the unmistakable taste of light beer.
I didn't buy any beer for this, Marina thinks as a shiver goes down her spine. The beer is chilly and her now transparent top offers little protection. I guess he is emptying out his minifridge.
Marina feels a tug on her left pant leg.
snip
"Jabob you perv!" Madison protests.
snip-snip
"What? She said this was part of it."
sniiip
"The scissors were on the table, did she not want us to use them?"
Jacob continues cutting until he reaches he waistband, revealing white cheeky hipsters underneath. It takes some doing but he manages to cut through the elastic and tug the destroyed sweatpants away from Marina. She instinctively does a slight squat, knees barely crossed, hands joined in front of her crotch. Jacob isn't done cutting, and makes quicker work of her top, revealing a white triangle bralette underneath. Marina crosses her arms over her chest, both for warmth and for modesty.
This part, the clothes cutting, is the part she was most hesitant about. She has insecurities about her appearance, just like everyone else, but that's not why she dreaded being stripped to her underwear. It's the context. There's a difference between showing off on a sunny beach and standing on a messy tarp outside the auditorium as families walk by, wondering what the hell is going on. Madison's voice snaps Marina back to the moment.
"You look so clean now."
"I don't feel clean!"
Marina looks down and most of her skin is indeed free of mess. Her clothes, now a tattered heap around her ankles, had taken the brunt of it. Other than what clung to her hair, of course.
"I feel cold."
"We'll have to cover you up then."
Marina turns her body as she hears the hiss of silly string streaming towards her. The sprayer waves the can left and right, up and down, leaving a chaotic colorful pattern across her olive skin.
The spray continues as more cold liquid splashes over Marina, white milk draining through her black hair. She hunches her back as the dairy runs over her shoulders and down her torso. A squirt of mustard connects with her face, sending her upright with her hands out in front of her. Another squirt lands on her chest, mixing with the milk as the glob creeps between her breasts.
Marina is too overwhelmed to react. The tang of the mustard on her face, the silly string crossing her trunk, the cold milk all over, it's just too many new sensations all at once. The mustard squirter moves up to her head, leaving yellow lines that stretch from her hair down to her chest. Marina leaves her hands out in front of her, feeling totally helpless.
She's not helpless, of course. She knows she can be done at any moment by just saying so. But on some level, she feels she deserves this. If she had just taken the time to write her final paper instead of cheating she wouldn't be in this mess. At the time she felt she was owed an easy one. She applied herself much more in school than others, and at the end of the day they're all getting the same degree. Why not cut corners, just once?
This was why. The grit and aroma of coffee grounds sprinkling over her, sticking to the mess building on her bare skin, this was why. The texture of the coffee grounds is the least pleasant sensation so far. The coarseness makes the rest of the mess just that much less bearable. Marina's friends are in full swing. Everyone has a bottle or can or bag and is emptying it over her with abandon. Ketchup is squirted up and down her legs. The last remnants of Marina's favorite salad dressing is plopped over her head. Flour joins the coffee in absorbing the more liquidy mess, forming a gross paste. The last of the silly string sputters onto her belly. Someone undoes her hair claw and shampoos the mess into her raven locks as the deluge subsides.
Marina clears her eyes with the back of her wrist and turns to face her brother.
"And now, Benji, with the broche de oro."
The camera approaches our graduate and assumes an oblique angle looking down over her head. A rainbow of cosmetic glitter sprinkles all over Marina, giving a metallic sparkle to the foodstuff clinging to her. Benji retreats with this camera, giving everyone on the stream a full shot of Marina, arms held wide at the end of her ordeal, messy and exposed. Some friends began to clap and cheer.
"That was Mi Recibida! Thanks to everyone here for participating, thanks to Professor Klein and to my family watching the stream, los quiero mucho. Now I need to go clean up before we walk."
Some friends let out a chuckle. Marina's mother procures a towel from her bag and wraps it around her daughter. Marina hustles back to her dorm to shower while her friends all head into the auditorium to pick up their robes. She does not have time to get completely clean, especially given the pastey consistency of the slop covering her. She does her best and makes it back to the auditorium just in time. Marina carries the discomfort of her mistake throughout the day. Looking back at pictures of the graduation ceremony, she can sometimes make out a bit of ground coffee still stuck to her as she gets her diploma.

Someone once told me that they were actually disappointed that the mothers didn't get dunked like the daughters original wanted. So here we are, in a different universe. With a new, bonus celeb story at the end. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

The Grand Finale – The Mum Dunker

The camera panned slowly over the gunk dunk. The thick, putrid purple gunge bubbled and shifted in the huge vat, releasing a strong, sweet-rotten smell that drifted across the studio – a mix of artificial fruit, wallpaper paste and something faintly chemical that made the front row wrinkle their noses. Through the swirling surface the words ‘Mum Dunker’ glowed in big, white, swirly letters. The camera pulled back to reveal the two daughters already seated on the metal chairs at the bottom of the ramp.

Emma, was clean once again. Her short hair uncontaminated by the horrible gravy and beans from the last game. She nervously looked down at the gunge as it bubbled. She had been so messy today already and she was dreading what was inevitably going to happen. She rubbed her hands over her bare, toned legs and took her familiar position, scrunching herself into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible. She knew that this dunking would be horrendous and the feeling of the gunge over her would be worse than the feeling of having her bra filled by the gravy and beans.

Charmaine leant forward and rubbed the tattoo on her ankle with her hand, as if for luck. She smiled to herself as she looked over to her mum. She knew that all Charlotte had to do was answer one question correctly and Charmaine would be spared the dunking. She looked at the gunge that sat above her mum’s head – although she thought Lucy would enjoy the gunging, it didn’t stop her wanting to inflict it on her. She sat up straight once again, her big boobs bounced as she pushed out her chest. Her long blonde hair was loose and down – beautifully styled by her mum before the game. She examined her long perfectly manicured nails and placed her hands on her bare knees, drumming her bare toes on the platform.

‘Welcome to the gunk dunk!’ Dave warmly said, ‘One of our mums, Charlotte or Lucy is going to get their own back on their daughter – will it be Charmaine, our messy daughter who takes advantage of free services at her mum’s beauty salon?’ the audience cheered loudly. ‘Or will it be Emma, the gym loving daughter who loves to be the centre of attention at the gym where she goes with her mum?’ Once again, the audience cheered. ‘We will find out in a mo! Ha ha! Or will we?’

Both Charlotte and Emma looked quizzically at Dave.

‘Now then… I’ve had a little think. You’ve both had a brilliant time covering your daughters in mud, blue gunge, mushy peas, gravy and beans… and frankly, I reckon the mums have been having far too much fun. So I’ve decided to switch things around! Mums – you’re going on the ramp! I think I’m going to give your daughters the chance to do what they really came here to do!’

The cheering from Charmaine and Emma was deafening. And they couldn’t move themselves off the seats fast enough!

In a strange change of events, it was not the mums sat above the rancid bubbling purple slime. Charlotte sat on the blue side, arms folded tightly across her chest, bare feet planted firmly on the cool platform. Her short blonde hair was still neat, her face fresh and almost makeup-free, athletic legs stretched out, toes already curling and uncurling against the metal as if trying to grip something solid. She looked competitive even now, jaw set, but her eyes kept flicking down to the bubbling vat and the smell made her swallow hard.

Lucy sat on the yellow side, bare legs swinging freely over the edge. Her long blonde hair was still perfectly styled, makeup immaculate, bronzed skin glowing under the lights. She drummed her perfectly pedicured toes against the platform in an almost excited rhythm, a big smile already spreading across her face. The strong smell of the gunge didn’t seem to bother her at all; if anything she leaned forward slightly, breathing it in.

Dave bounced into frame, grinning wider than ever. ‘Now how does that look to you ladies?’

Charlotte’s competitive face faltered for the first time all day. ‘Dave… you’re joking? I can’t believe you’ve done this to us!’

‘No joke!’ Dave declared. ‘Charlotte and Lucy, you are now sitting above my nasty and slimy pride and joy. And your daughters get to decide who takes the full trip!’

Lucy just laughed and waggled her bare toes, the movement making a soft slap against the metal. ‘Oh I love this show!’

Emma and Charmaine were ushered over to the big levers at the side of the tank, still in their GYOB t-shirts and shorts, barefoot, and looking extremely pleased with the new arrangement.

Dave continued, ‘Here’s how it works. I’m going to ask the daughters some very easy questions. Every correct answer lets that daughter raise her own mum one notch up the ramp. First mum to reach the top… slides straight into the gunk dunk! But don’t worry, the other mum gets a special messy consolation prize from above, as a special treat from me! Ready, girls?’ he looked at the two grinning daughters.

Emma and Charmaine nodded eagerly, buzzers already in hand.

‘All today’s questions are very easy, and start with the letter: s. However, your answers cannot start with the letter: s. Are we ready for the first question? The Mediterranean, North and Baltic are all types of…’

Emma slammed her buzzer. ‘Bodies of water!’

‘Correct! Seas! What do we do with Charlotte?’

‘Crank her up!’ Emma and the audience roared.

Charlotte’s chair rose with a low mechanical whir. The platform lifted under her bare soles. She felt the cool metal move, her toes instinctively spreading for balance. One notch higher. The vat looked bigger already. The smell stronger. She swallowed again.

‘Next question. What is the big bright thing in the sky called?’

Charmaine buzzed first. ‘The moon!’

‘I’ll take it! Crank Lucy up!’

Lucy’s chair rose. She cheered, swinging her bare legs happily, toes pointing and flexing in the air. ‘Higher, higher!’ The movement made the soft skin of her soles flash under the lights.

‘Next one. What do you call a lunchtime food that consists of meat, cheese, jam or anything else between slices of bread?’

Emma again. ‘Butties!’

‘Brilliant! Crank Charlotte up!’

Charlotte was now two notches up. The drop looked serious. She could see the thick surface of the purple gunge clearly – the way it slowly folded in on itself, the heavy bubbles that rose and burst with a soft, wet plop. The smell was richer up here, almost syrupy. Her bare toes gripped the edge of the platform hard. She could already imagine how cold it would feel.

‘Final deciding question…’ Dave paused dramatically. ‘What is the name of the superhero whose arch enemy is Lex Luthor?’

Both girls hit their buzzers at almost the same moment, but Emma’s light came on first.

‘Clark Kent!’ she shouted.

‘That’s the one! Oh dear, Charlotte…’

Lights flashed. The audience chanted ‘Crank her up!’ and Charlotte’s chair climbed the final notch with a heavy clunk. She sat there at the very top, bare feet dangling over the edge, staring down at the bubbling purple gunge. Her heart was hammering. The air felt colder. The smell was intense – sweet and chemical and thick. She could hear the low, continuous bubbling beneath her, like a giant pot of something foul on a slow boil.

‘Emma,’ Dave said, voice full of mischief, ‘the lever is yours. You brought your mum on today to do just this, dunk her in the gunge for being so annoying in the gym and all your mum has done today is win every single game and make you messy in the process… and now you can get your own back on her! Do you want to pull it?’

Emma didn’t hesitate. Her voice was bright with triumph and a little revenge.

‘I came here to dunk you, Mum. After the mud, the blue lake, the gravy and beans… this is for everything!’ She yanked the lever hard.

A sharp klaxon blared. The chair gave a sudden, sharp jolt. Charlotte’s hands flew to the sides of the seat. The platform began to tip forward with a slow, deliberate hydraulic hiss. Her bare feet left the metal. For one long second she hung there, legs stretched out, toes pointed, the entire studio watching the glamorous, competitive mum balanced on the edge of disaster.

Then gravity took her. Charlotte shot forward with a proper, unguarded shriek – half shock, half disbelief – and cannonballed into the gunk dunk.

The sound was enormous, wet and heavy. A massive wave of thick purple gunge exploded outwards in every direction, splattering the walls of the tank then slopping over it and raining down in heavy, sticky droplets. Charlotte vanished completely under the surface. The wet, cold mess hit her like a physical blow – dense, clinging, almost syrupy cold that wrapped around every inch of her at once. The gunge forced its way under her blue t-shirt, flooding the fabric, sliding across her stomach and the undersides of her breasts. It rushed into her shorts, filling them, cold and heavy against her bare skin and the thin material of her underwear. It poured between her bare toes, thick and resistant, coating the soles of her feet and forcing its way under her toenails. The smell was suddenly everywhere – inside her nose, on her tongue, rich and artificial and overwhelming.

For two full seconds she was completely under, the sound of the studio muffled to a distant roar, her body suspended in pure, heavy slime. She could feel it moving against every part of her, slow and deliberate, seeping into places she hadn’t expected.

Then she pushed upward with a powerful kick of her bare feet.

Her head broke the surface with a gasping, wet cry. Purple gunge sheeted down her face in thick rivulets. Her short blonde hair was plastered flat to her skull, heavy and dripping. She stood up, waist-deep and the full weight of it registered at once.

She was coated. The thin blue t-shirt had become a second skin, completely saturated, clinging tightly to every curve of her athletic body. Gunge had run inside it and was now cold against her skin, sliding slowly downward. Her shorts were heavier, the slime having soaked straight through and filled them; she could feel it squelching against her underwear with every tiny movement. Thick purple strands hung from her elbows and the tips of her fingers. When she shifted her weight the gunge between her toes made a loud, wet squelch. Slippery and slimy she shuffled her feet making her topple backwards and splash back into the gungy pit. As her bum hit the bottom of the tank, one bare foot appeared clear of the surface and with a long, glistening strand of purple stretch from the arch of her foot all the way back down to the vat before it snapped with a soft plop. Her toes were completely purple, the slime slowly sliding off them in lazy drips.

Her foot disappeared under as her head reappeared, unrecognisable through purple goo. Her head and shoulders appearing just as a second, even bigger torrent opened above her.

This time it was mixed – purple, yellow, blue and white – and it hit her like a waterfall. Charlotte tipped her head back with a helpless, breathless laugh that was half shock and half surrender as the fresh gunge poured over her already soaked hair and face. It ran down her neck in heavy sheets, over her shoulders, down her arms. She felt it find every place the first dunking had missed. The weight of it made her t-shirt cling even tighter. Fresh slime spilled over the waistband of her shorts and slid down the backs of her legs in thick, cold rivers as she tried to stand up under the torrent of slime, thrashing around and waving her arms comically. Her bare feet slipping and sliding under the rising surface as she stood there and simply took it, toes curling and uncurling in the dense slime, feeling every sticky, resistant movement.

When the flow finally stopped, the studio was a mixture of cheering, laughter and the soft, continuous sound of dripping. Charlotte stayed still for a moment, dripping from every part of her. Every small movement made a wet sound. She wiped her eyes with both hands, smearing the gunge rather than removing it, then looked down at herself.

She was glistening from head to toe. Thick strands hung from her chin and the ends of her hair. Her bare legs were completely submerged and covered, the slime slopping around her feet with every movement of her body. She wiggled her toes under the surface and felt the cold, heavy resistance of the gunge between them, the way it pushed up under her arches and coated the soft skin of her soles. When she lifted or move her feet, the slime slopped under her bare soles and between her toes, the sound disgustingly loud in the sudden quiet.

Meanwhile, Lucy was still only one notch up, watching intently as Charlotte thrashed around and received her second gunging from her prime, front row seat. Dave turned to Charmaine with a wicked grin.

‘Your mum doesn’t get the full slide… but she does get the special overhead treatment!’

Charmaine needed no encouragement. She pulled her lever with a delighted cry. A massive bucket of thick yellow-and-white gunge tipped directly over Lucy’s head.

The slime hit with a heavy, wet slap. Lucy squealed with pure delight as the cold, dense goo cascaded down, flattening her perfectly styled hair, covering her face, running over her shoulders and soaking straight through her t-shirt in seconds. She felt it flood the fabric, cold against her skin, sliding between her big breasts and down her stomach. It ran over her bare legs in thick sheets and poured between her dangling toes, heavy and sticky. She tilted her head back, mouth open in a huge smile, and let it come, the smell rich and sweet-chemical in her nose. When the flow slowed she rubbed it in with both hands, deliberately smearing it down her arms and over her already coated legs, laughing the whole time. The gunge made soft, wet sounds as she moved, dripping steadily from her elbows, her chin, and the tips of her bare toes.

‘That was amazing!’ she declared, voice thick with slime and pure enjoyment. ‘Can I have another?’

Dave laughed. ‘One dunk and one proper soaking is enough for today!’

Charlotte was still standing in the main vat, slipping and sliding slowly through the purple gunge, watching the thick strands stretch and break from between her fingers as she massaged the mess into her skin. Every movement produced a loud squelch. She could feel the slime still sliding inside her shorts, cold and heavy and the way it had completely soaked her underwear. The smell was all around her. She scooped two big handfuls of the purple gunge and, after a second’s hesitation, rubbed it slowly down her arms and over her already coated hips, as if accepting there was no point fighting it any longer. The gunge clung to her skin in thick, shiny layers. When she dragged her fingers through her hair, more of it poured down her back in heavy rivulets.

Emma stood at the edge of the tank, beaming with triumph. Charmaine was busy laughing at her mum, who was already scooping leftover gunge off her own shoulders and smearing it further down her legs for good measure, bare toes still flexing happily with strings of gunge between each digit.

Dave’s voice rang out over the noise. ‘What a finale! Charlotte – competitive winner of every single game – gets the full gunging in the gunk dunk thanks to her own daughter. Completely coated, completely soaked, and still dripping! And Lucy gets a glorious messy soaking because… well, she was clearly enjoying herself far too much anyway!’

Charlotte raised one goo-covered hand in cheerful defeat, purple slime still sliding down her arm and dripping from her fingertips. Lucy waved both slimy hands and blew a sticky kiss at the camera. Emma and Charmaine stood side-by-side. Victorious.

Dave turned to camera as the end music began to swell. ‘So be nice to your daughters out there… or they might end up like Charlotte – taking a dip into me gunge, completely slimy from head to toe! Bye-bye everyone! Bye-bye!’

The credits rolled over lingering slow-motion shots: Charlotte’s bare legs and feet leaving the platform, the massive purple explosion as she hit the vat, her head breaking the surface with gunge pouring off her in sheets, the way the slime stretched and dripped from her head as it emerged from under the gunge. And finally Lucy happily receiving her overhead torrent, both mums laughing as the thick, smelly slime continued to drip from every part of them.

Get Your Own Back: Celebrity Special – Andrea Valls

The mothers and daughters had been cleaned up and taken away from the gunk dunk. But Dave wasn’t finished yet. The gunge was now deeper and more rancid. And he had a plan.

‘Before we finish today, I have a special guest to introduce,’ announced Dave, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, ‘we have a sound technician working here who asked me for a favour!’

A tall, slightly nervous but grinning early twenty-year-old lad walked out wearing the yellow GYOB t-shirt and black shorts. He had short brown hair, an excited smile and the look of someone who still couldn’t quite believe he was here.

‘Hi Dave, hi everyone! I’m Steve, I work for Get Your Own Back as a sound technician, as Dave says. And I really want to get my own back on a TV celebrity who films in this building… Andrea Valls! You may know her as the mum on Waffle the Wonder Dog. Or even the nasty Renee in Ann Droid!’

The crowd whooped and cheered. Then Dave asked, ‘Why is that, Steve? Tell us your story!’

‘Andrea Valls is proper glamorous, right? Big star, always looking perfect, a famous actress, right? Last week, I bumped into her in the café and having worked with her during the filming of Waffle I tried to say hello. Only now, she’s too big and famous to remember me! When I tried to talk to her she said something like, “Sorry, sweetheart – some of us have places to be,” and the whole café heard it. I’ve never been so embarrassed.  Little did she know that I now work on this show. And she’s filming next door! Dave… I begged you to please, please get her here and give her a proper messy trip into your gunk dunk!’

Dave turned to the side of the stage as the audience booed on cue.

‘It would be a pleasure to make your wish come true, since you’re such a great worker here! Let’s meet the woman herself – Andrea Valls!’

Andrea stepped out to a huge cheer, looking every inch the celebrity. She wore the blue medical scrubs she wears in the Waffle, but somehow still managed to look glamorous. Her long dark hair was styled in soft waves, makeup flawless, long legs moving effortlessly under the light blue trousers, white crocs on her feet. She gave the audience a practiced wave and a slightly wary smile.

‘So, Andrea,’ Dave said, ‘what do you have to say for yourself?’

Andrea laughed lightly. ‘Look, I was having a really long day. I didn’t mean to embarrass him. And besides… I’m a celebrity. I don’t do mess. Especially not in my filming outfit. You’re not really going to do this to me, are you Dave? I’m in the middle of filming next door!’

Dave’s eyes lit up. ‘Ha ha! You know me! Of course I am, sweetheart! It’s what Steve deserves for you embarrassing him!’

Andrea stood there giving a glamorous eyeroll, shaking her long, loose dark locks and shuffling from one foot to the other. ‘I can’t believe you’ll let your staff dunk me!’ The emphasis on the work ‘me’ made the audience cheer and Steve and Dave grin widely.

The studio lights dimmed. A low, bubbling sound filled the air as the cameras slowly pushed in on the gunk dunk. The vat was huge, the surface of the thick purple gunge shifting and popping with slow, heavy bubbles. It looked cold. It looked sticky. It looked deep splatted and mixed by the previous gungee.

Andrea, her crocs off and the bottom of her scrubs rolled up her legs, was led barefoot up onto the seat at the bottom of the ramp. The metal was cool under her soles. She sat down carefully, long legs stretched out in front of her, bare feet resting on the edge of the platform. Her pink painted toenails caught the light for a moment before she curled her toes against the metal, already tense. The blue scrubs top clung to her shapely frame, the top couple of buttons undone (not like when she’s filming on Waffle!) showing her brimming large cleavage. The thin material of her bottoms tight against her curvy thighs down her legs to her knees where the material was rolled up revealing her soft tanned lower legs, bare shins and feet. She looked down at the vat only a short drop away and felt her stomach tighten.

Steve took his place beside the big red lever, barely able to stand still. The audience was on its feet.

Dave’s voice dropped into that classic teasing tone.

‘Andrea Valls… big celebrity, always perfect, always in control. You made a young fan feel about two inches tall in a room full of people. He asked me for my help to get you back and I’m more than happy to oblige! And now… he’s got hold of the lever.’

Andrea tried to keep her expression cool, but her bare toes kept flexing and curling. She could feel every eye in the studio on her. The gunge below looked thicker than it had from the side of the set. She could already imagine how it would feel on her skin. ‘Don’t I usually get a way out?’ She pleaded with Dave.

‘Not today, Andrea! You’re going down! But just from how high?’ Dave grinned.

‘What?’ Andrea looked confused.

‘I’m going to ask Steve 3 questions, for each one you get right, Steve, we will crank Andrea up one notch above the gunge!’ Dave grinned at Andrea. Andrea cringed back.

‘Oh yes! Bring it on!’ grinned Steve.

‘That’s what I like to hear. Ok, Steve, here is your first question. What is one plus one?’

Steve laughed and Andrea recoiled. This set-up was getting worse for Andrea!

‘That would be two, Dave’ Steve grinned.

‘That’s correct, what do we do with Andrea?’

The audience cheered and called in unison ‘Crank her up!’

And up Andrea went. Her knees shaking and her hands grabbing the sides of the chair as she realised there was no way out of this and she was going to get a horrible dunking. At least the gunk smelt better a notch away. She shuddered and looked past her toes to the bubbling gunge, smiling and making out like she wasn’t bothered about the fixed situation.

Andrea didn’t even hear the next question or answer, but assumed it was just as easy. Her chair glided upwards again. Her heart was beating hard. She could feel the cool air on her exposed legs. She straightened her back and smiled at the crowd which was now even further away. She shook her head, making her long lock waft around her head. Preparing herself of the inevitable.

‘What is the capital of France?’

Andrea did her glamorous dramatic eyeroll, making her long lashes flutter. She gripped the chair in preparation and drummed her bare feet rhythmically on the footplate. Up she went once more as the baying crowd, led by Steve and Dave shouted, ‘Crank her up!’. Somehow, the cheering was louder even though she was further away from the crowd. And further away from the gunge, which looked even more disgusting and slimy from her elevated position. Andrea’s breathing had gone shallow. She could see the surface of the purple vat clearly now, the way it moved, the slow bubbles, the absolute certainty of what was coming. Her fingers tightened on the seat. Her bare toes curled hard against the metal.

‘Steve,’ Dave said, ‘you’ve manage to answer all three questions correctly and crank Andrea all the way up to the top,’ Another Andrea eye-roll, ‘whenever you’re ready.’

Steve looked straight at her. The excitement on his face was unmistakable.

‘This is for being so rude… and for “sweetheart.”’

Andrea gave a small, tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her bare toes kept flexing, spreading, curling again. The smell rising from the vat was rising thicker now, almost coating the inside of her mouth. She told herself she was dreading it. Deep down, something else was waiting.

Steve met her gaze, grinned, and pulled. The klaxon was sharper this time. The chair lurched forward on the tracks, taking Andrea with it on her doomed descent. Andrea’s fingers locked around the side rails. With every inch the chair rolled downward the vat grew larger beneath her bare soles. Cool air moved across her bare legs.

Halfway down, twin nozzles either side of the ramp fired without warning. Thick ropes of bright white gunge shot across her bare shins and feet, criss-crossing her skin in cold, sticky bands. Andrea flinched hard, a short cry escaping as the white slime slapped between her toes and sealed itself across the tops of her feet. It was colder than the purple looked, almost icy, and it clung in rubbery strands up her exposed shins and then her covered thighs. She winced as the cold goo slapped the sides of her body, her protruding breasts but stopped before splattering her grimacing face. The chair kept descending. White gunge now dripped from Andrea’s scrubs in slow, elastic threads that never quite broke. She could already feel the secret thrill starting – the helpless, exposed feeling of her filing outfit being targeted and coated with mess while she could do nothing about it.

Andrea sat frozen as the seat neared the bottom, bare feet dangling, white slime still sliding between her toes. The gunk dunk looked bigger and worse than it had from the top. The purple surface below no longer seemed liquid; it looked solid enough to bounce off. Her heart was hammering, but underneath the panic a quiet, guilty excitement was spreading.

The platform tipped without warning. She tried, for half a second, to push back against the seat. It did no good. Her body slid forward, bare legs first, and she dropped.

The sound when she hit was deeper than a normal splash, a heavy, muffled whump followed by a violent upward surge of purple. The entire surface of the vat lifted and collapsed around her. Andrea disappeared completely. The cold was instantaneous and total, a dense, crushing weight that forced the air from her lungs. The gunge was thicker than she had expected, almost like cold custard mixed with oil. It drove under her top in a single wave, flooding across her stomach and chest, filling the cups of her bra and sliding cold and intimate against her bare skin. It slithered into her bottoms, heavy and invasive, soaking her underwear in seconds and coating the soft skin of her hips and backside. Between her toes the purple mixed with the earlier white, creating a slick, resistant paste that locked her feet together and forced its way in the spaces between every toe and under every toenail. The taste flooded her mouth, sweet, chemical berry and something chalky. The smell was so strong it felt like it was inside her head, thick and inescapable.

She stayed under longer than she meant to, suspended in the slow, rolling movement of the slime, every inch of skin coated and sealed. The weight pressed against her from all sides. The cold had already begun to feel less like a shock and more like a complete covering. Deep down, in the private part of herself she never showed on camera, she realised she was savouring it – the total loss of control, the way the mess claimed every part of her at once.

When she finally drove her bare feet downward and pushed up, her head broke the surface with a ragged, wet gasp. Purple gunge sheeted off her face in a single heavy curtain. Her long dark hair had been driven flat against her skull and neck with thick ropes of goo hanging over her eyes and mouth, completely ruined, heavy and dripping. She stood, waist-deep now because of the displaced volume, and the true extent of the covering registered all at once.

She looked, even to herself, unrecognisable. The blue top was no longer blue. It was a dark, glistening second skin, stretched tight and completely transparent with wetness, her pockets comically filled with goo. She pushed her hands into her pockets displacing and emptying the gunge then rubbing her messy hands up her bare arms, massaging the slime into her soft skin. Gunge continued to slide from the neckline down the inside of the fabric, running in cold rivulets between and over her breasts and then over her stomach.

Her trousers hung heavier, the waistband peeled pulling downwards almost revealing her white thong to the baying audience. The weight of slime that had poured inside had filled the bottoms to her knees where she had rolled them up, blocking the escape route. She could feel it moving against her underwear and the bare skin beneath with every small shift of her hips. When she moved her stance the mixture between her toes made a loud, sucking glorp. When she shifted her weight the gunge between her toes squelched loudly. She felt the slime slither under her bare sole and between her toes, knowing that her painted toenails would no longer be visible under the layer of slime.

Above her a final, wide nozzle opened. This time the gunge was blackcurrant-red and colder still. It fell in a solid, unbroken column that hit the crown of her head and kept coming. Andrea’s hands rose halfway, holding her head as she simply let it happen. The red poured over the purple, over the white, over everything, running in fast sheets down her face, her neck, her arms. It found the gaps at the armholes of the short sleeved scrubs top, running over her sensitive armpits and down the inside of her top again, down the back, trickling down her spine and flooding over her boobs again. Not to mention down her bottoms again. The gunge found all the gaps in her waistband and flowed down the legs of her scrubs and poured inside, adding another layer of cold weight against her already soaked skin. Fresh slime slid down her spine and into the back of her bottoms, cold and intimate against her bare cheeks. Her bare feet were driven deeper under the rising surface. She could feel the red mixing on the surface, turning the paste even thicker, heavier, more complete.

When the column finally stopped, the only sounds were the soft, continuous dripping from her hair, her fingertips, her elbows, and the occasional wet shift of her feet inside the vat.

Andrea remained motionless for several seconds, breathing hard, dripping from every point. She wiped both hands down her face, only succeeding in spreading the mixed colours into a uniform dark sheen. Then she looked at herself properly.

She was completely claimed. Every visible surface shone. Thick, multi-coloured strands hung from the ends of her ruined hair and the tips of her fingers. Her bare legs looked lacquered. The top clung so tightly it might as well have been painted on; inside it the gunge was still moving slowly against her skin. Inside her bra. Over her bare buttocks. Inside her thong. She experimented with a small movement of her toes and produced a long, explicit squelch that drew a fresh wave of laughter from the audience. The smell rising off her own body was now stronger than the vat itself – sweet, chemical, berry-sharp and inescapable. She could still taste it on her lips and tongue.

And underneath the shock, underneath the breathless laughter she gave the cameras, the private truth settled warmly in her chest: she loved this. The cold weight, the total covering, the way the mess had gotten inside her clothes and her underwear and between her toes and into her hair until nothing clean remained. She loved the helplessness of it. She loved how thoroughly she had been ruined.

Steve stood at the edge, speechless, eyes wide. Andrea raised her head, red-and-purple gunge still sliding off her chin, and gave a short, disbelieving laugh that turned into a cough as more slime ran into her mouth.

‘Right. That’s… thorough. It’s inside everything. I can feel it moving when I breathe. It’s running down my back, it’s in my trousers, my toes are glued together…’ She tried to lift one foot up out of the goo, but it was too deep and thick, so she she stamped and splashed in the slimy mess and watched the heavy ribbons of mixed gunge slop and splash as it dripped from her legs and arms. ‘I can taste it. I can smell nothing else.’

She scooped both hands full of the nearest slime and, after a brief pause as if finishing the job herself, deliberately rubbed it down the length of her arms and across her already coated tummy, involuntarily making mess slither down into the front of her trousers, making her shudder and squirm. The fresh layer clung in uneven, glistening streaks. When she pushed her fingers through her ruined hair, a fresh cascade of dark slime poured down her spine and into the back of her trousers, which hung lower now revealing the string of thing and the top of her gunge covered bum. The cold slide of it against her skin sent another quiet, secret shiver through her.

Dave’s voice cut through the noise, delighted.

‘Andrea Valls, ladies and gentlemen – formerly glamorous, currently unrecognisable, and still dripping! Courtesy of our own Get Your Own Back sound technician!’

Andrea lifted both hands in a sticky, theatrical shrug. Every motion produced new drips and wet sounds. She planted her bare feet more firmly in the gunge, feeling it rise between her toes again, and looked straight at Steve. Outwardly she was the good sport, the celebrity being a great laugh. Inwardly she was already wondering how soon she could feel this covered again.

‘I think I need a coffee,’ she said, voice thick and amused, ‘but first a very long shower.’

Steve laughed, still stunned. Dave threw an arm around him as the end music swelled.

The final shots lingered on Andrea standing waist-deep in the vat: long hair flat, heavy and completely destroyed, her scrubs top moulded to her body like a wet second skin, trousers sagging and filled with gunge with her bare feet shifting slowly in the thick, multi-coloured slime. Every inch of her glistened. And behind the public smile, she was still quietly, thoroughly enjoying every sticky, cold, inescapable second of it.

Four ladies strode confidently onto the stage, each barefoot and clad only in a black, slingshot v-neck monokini. The girls, all standing at a statuesque 5’8 - 5’11 in height, took their places next to the hostess, eyeing a table with delighted anticipation; upon it sat four huge whipped cream-filled pies. Across the stage was situated a large paddling pool, filled almost to the brim with more whipped cream. A chair similar to those used by a lifeguard sat precariously at the edge of the pool, a lever positioned ominously to one side of it.

The hostess, who wore a sequined bikini, turned to the girl at the far end of the line. “Why don’t you introduce your team?” she prompted.
“I’m Annabelle,” the girl, with brunette hair cascading down her back, declared. “This is Becky, Charlotte and Denise,” she gestured to each of her friends in turn, “we’re all early 20’s, living in Manchester and we dance at the same club!”
“Ah, I remember my dancing days,” the hostess sighed, “I used ‘Candy Floss’ as my stage name, because my thongs were the thickness of dental floss. Good times,” she reminisced dreamily. “Anyway, who have you brought on today?”
“Maggie,” Annabelle answered. “She’s new to the club and we all really like her but she doesn’t seem to be part of the team; doesn’t talk much, you know? We’re hoping tonight will help her feel more like one of us.” She ran a hand idly over her barely-clad breast, trying to prevent a nip slip with the minimal material covering her.
“I think you’re fighting a losing battle there,” Candy joked.
“Yeah,” she laughed, “good job I don’t mind showing them off,” she jiggled, though she did tug on the material to make sure she stayed covered - for now.
“Well, get on here Maggie!” Candy called; another girl walked on to the stage, trying to marry confidence with the nerves she had to be feeling. Maggie had her long, dark, almost black, hair tied in a ponytail. Like the others she was barefoot; unlike her colleagues she wore a thin white T-shirt, under which a dark bikini top could clearly be seen, and tiny denim shorts. The 6’1” Valkyrie stood near the pool and smiled shyly at Candy. “So, tell us your side of things,” the hostess prompted.
“Well they’re all really pretty,” Maggie began; Denise interrupted.
“We’re pretty?” She sounded incredulous. “You’re fucking stunning!”

Maggie smiled her appreciation of the other brunette’s observation. “And they have all been nice to me,” she conceded, her London accent evident, “but it’s difficult being the new girl. Sometimes Annie and the others will talk about a regular or reminisce on a particular night they enjoyed, and I’ve no clue what they’re talking about so I tend to just keep quiet when they do that. I can see why that might make me come across as aloof but I really do want to be more a part of things, so hopefully I can join in more as I get to know the girls better and share more experiences.”
“Well you’ll definitely be sharing this experience with them,” Candy joked; the four girls chuckled along and even Maggie managed a grin at the hostess’s quip. “Now, the rules: each girl has ten questions for you.” Maggie nodded her understanding. “Most are general knowledge but there are some… personalised questions in there too. Each correct answer will win you twenty-five pounds but a wrong answer will see the questioner choose one item of clothing to remove from you. In addition she’ll then give you one of these lovely, big, gooey pies… anywhere she wants,” she finished to the amusement of the quartet, earning a resigned look from Maggie, though a smile threatened to tug at the corners of her mouth as she eyed the giant confections. “You’ll then go on to the next questioner and if you survive all ten, you'll be asked the remaining questions from one of the girls who pied you. If you have any clothing left at the end of the forty questions you double your money, but if you get four questions wrong, you’ll have a seat in the chair over there and take a trip to the giant pie, being joined by the girl of your choice for… an extra experience.” Maggie gave a nervous look to the double-ended strap-on hanging innocuously behind her workmates; quick maths told her she stood to win almost a couple of thousand if it all went well. She had a sneaky suspicion, though, that things wouldn’t all go well and, if not, well, she was no stranger to sex so that could be a fun icebreaker too; her heart began to beat faster in anticipation.

Annie was the first up with her questions; she smiled reassuringly at Maggie as she stepped forward.

The taller girl aced the first three questions and was starting to feel really confident when she flubbed number 4 - who the hell needs to know what Juba is the capital city of anyway?
“Sorry Mags, that’s wrong,” Annie had a gleam in her eye and a broad smile on her face. “Arms up please.”

Maggie obeyed and Annabelle took the hem of her T-shirt in both hands, lifting it over her head. Maggie dropped her arms a little to help the shorter girl take it off; Annie then lobbed the garment idly into the creamy pool. She hefted the first pie into her hand and the Londoner began to look a little nervous as she approached her. “Ready to get messy?” Maggie wasn’t sure if there was concern or taunting in her colleague’s tone - probably a bit of both. She decided to just enjoy the whole experience, giving her a smile and nod.
“Hit me with it,” she challenged.

Annie’s smile widened and she surprised Maggie by, instead of a gentle push,  slamming the pie into her coworker’s face, causing the other three girls to begin to laugh hysterically at the sight. Annie then slid the remnants of the pie over the top of Mags’s head and down the back of it, coating her hair with the white cream.

Maggie’s mouth opened in shock at the experience; she was further surprised when Annie leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips, even slipping her a little tongue. The brunette then returned to her spot by the other three girls, who had had a good laugh at the spectacle; a still-grinning Becky used her thumbs to clean off the cream that had transferred to Annie’s face, before sliding it onto her now exposed nipples, much to the dark-haired girl’s own amusement.
“Ok, next up is Becky with the second set of questions,” Candy sought to keep things on track. The grinning ginger girl stepped forward, a predatory look visible to Maggie, who had managed to get her eyes clean and licked the cream from her fingers; she had to concede that it tasted quite nice.

This time, unfortunately for Maggie, she managed to get just two correct answers before Becky threw in a personalised question about her favourite football team; Maggie had no idea who the ginger girl supported but felt that going for United or City gave her a 50:50 chance with a Manchester girl; she chose City.

Unfortunately for her, Becky was actually a Rochdale lass and the Spotland-based team never occurred to Maggie as a possibility. “Sorry but that’s wrong, Mags,” Becky didn’t sound even remotely sorry about it. Maggie expected her to remove her shorts so she was surprised, though not altogether disappointed, when Becky reached behind her and untied her bikini top instead, tugging the dark blue material from her body and throwing it into the pool alongside her T-shirt. “Guess where this is going,” Becky grinned, gathering the second pie.

Maggie just laughed and thrust her bare chest forwards. Becky slapped the pie against her left tit, before dragging it across to coat the right in cream as well. She then dragged it further, down her taller colleague’s flat, toned stomach, leaving a train of white that also covered the front of her previously dark blue denim shorts. Becky then took Maggie’s right nipple in her mouth, licking it clean before lavishing the same attention on the left one. She did, however, scoop up any residual cream she could from the pie and reapplied it to the girl’s nipples.

Returning to her own spot, Becky used the remaining cream on her hands to further coat Annabelle’s breasts and nipples, before also licking them clean, to the brunette’s obvious delight. Annie decided not to adjust her outfit again, instead leaving her now bare tits on display; she winked at Maggie, who was definitely breathing a little quicker.

Blonde Charlotte was next to pose questions to Maggie; As she prepared to step forward, Candy offered a recap.
“Maggie, you’ve won 125 quid so far but lost two items of clothing. You’ve also another 13 questions waiting IF you survive these two questioners. Charlotte,” she gestured to the blonde.

Five questions later, Maggie had doubled her money but was tasked with answering how many siblings Denise had. With no idea, she guessed at two; Charlotte’s smile told her she was wrong.
“That’s wrong, Maggie,” Denise confirmed; she also sounded happy about it. “I’ve just my baby sister; Amy. She’s probably going to get a job with us in a couple of years,” dark-haired Denise informed the others.
“Nice!” Annie declared; Denise grinned. Charlotte tried to get things back on track.
“Time to lose those shorts girlie,” she taunted. She reached in and unsnapped the button, pulled down the zipper and slid the creamy shorts down Maggie’s legs. The London lass stepped out of them and Charlotte dumped them in the pie, using her hand to push them, and Mags’s other clothes, deep into the cream. Maggie, now clad only in a thong that matched her previously discarded bikini top and lots of cream, patiently awaited the next part of her punishment. Blonde Charlotte obliged, wielding the third pie which she powered into Maggie’s waiting face before sliding it down her body and adding a fresh layer to her breasts, stomach and some to the front of her thong. Maggie had to admit she was slightly disappointed that none of the cream found its way inside her thong. Unlike the other two girls, Charlotte made no attempt to touch Maggie after pieing her, much to her surprise and slight disappointment; instead she sashayed back to her spot. Like Becky, however, she did use the cream that had gotten on her hands to smear it over Annie’s tits and then lick it off. For her part, Annie gave the blonde’s boobs a good fondle while the cream was being smeared; Charlotte adjusted her own top to cover her nipples again after she was done.

Denise was last up and Maggie knew she needed her head in the game. She might be resigned to, and looking forward to, the loser’s punishment, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pocket a bit more money beforehand. Three questions in, however…
“How many of her current coworkers has Annie slept with?” asked Denise.
“You bitch!” fellow brunette Annabelle, who was currently stood behind Becky and fondling her boobs, laughed, shaking her head; Denise grinned back at her unapologetically.

Maggie rolled her eyes under her pie coating; she had absolutely no idea but looking at the way the girls were together implied some, if not a lot of bisexuality on Annie’s part; she figured the odds were reasonable that she’d had fun times with the other three. She tried to think about how many other girls worked there, then the barmen, bouncers, owner(?). Finally she decided that, in the interests of the hoped-for friendship, she’d err on the lower side.
“Five?” she guessed; Denise, Becky and Charlotte burst out laughing, causing Annie to pout.
“Oh come on, you know we all love you really,” topless ginger Becky kissed her lips gently before moving her hands back to the brunette’s unclad boobs.
“Yeah, right, Mags,” Denise scoffed. “Annie?”
“She was close,” Annie smiled at Maggie, though the smile may have been partly due to Becky’s actions, “the answer is six.”
“Keep going,” Denise countered.
“What?” She protested. “Mel and Penny have left, Steph and Mary have too. I’ve fooled around with some of the barmen but not slept with them all!”

Denise shrugged. “Anyway, that’s wrong unfortunately,” she told Mags, without a trace of regret in her voice.
“You know what that means,” Candy interjected. Denise reached out and guided Maggie’s thong on the lengthy journey down her slender legs; she stepped out of it, doing a little twirl for the cheering girls while it joined the rest of her clothes in the pool. “And the last pie,” the host added; Denise smiled at her but decided to put on a bit of a show first. She used the naked Londoner almost as a pole, gyrating as she swung around her, showing off some of her dancer’s moves and getting a fair bit of Maggie’s cream coating on her as she did. After a few moments, some cheers from the others and cat calls from Annie to start stripping, she moved over to the table and picked up the final pie. She threatened an overhand splat into Maggie’s face before drawing back and underarming it into her pussy instead. Maggie gasped at the contact, only just managing to stop herself from taking a step back. Instead she stood still as Denise brushed her pussy with her fingers before she took the rest of the pie and used it to spank her inviting backside.
“You know what this means, Maggie,” Candy reminded her. “You’re going in the pie; pick one of the girls to meet you there.”

Maggie looked at her choices. Annie, boobs on display and clearly up for it - but she could likely get with her later on if she wanted (and, she realised, she really did). Gorgeous ginger Becky - great with her tongue on her tits; where else could it do its magic? Denise… those fingers could work their magic on her any time. But tonight, she decided, was more about the other girls, becoming one of the team and trying to crack the more aloof appearing… “Charlotte,” she declared.

The other three clapped as the blonde raised her eyebrows a little at the decision.
“Come with me then,” Candy took her hand and led her to the chair, helping her to get seated in it. Mags looked across at the girls; Denise had collected the harness while Becky was busy divesting Charlotte of her monokini. As soon as she did this Annie was on her knees with her tongue in the blonde’s pussy, preparing it for her phallus’s entry. Once Charlotte had stepped into the harness, Becks joined Annie in kneeling and took the inside rubber cock into her mouth, lubricating it, ready to enter Charlotte’s increasingly moist pussy.

Annie’s machinations were clearly working; the blonde began to wobble a little, leaning back against Denise for support. The girls took this as their cue to finish up; Annie withdrew, Becks took the dildo from her mouth and while Denise held Charlotte up, Annie guided the harness up her legs and Becky slipped the phallus inside her, causing her to gasp. The cheeky redhead then took hold of the outside dildo, pulling it to and fro, causing the one inside Charlotte to move, bringing her closer to the edge.

Finally the girls led her to the edge of the pool; Charlotte stepped over the side, still wobbling slightly, and put her left foot in the cream. Becky cheekily gave her a good, two-handed shove to her bum, causing her to fly forwards, landing spread-eagle in the cream and sending the other girls into a fresh round of hysterics.

Charlotte emerged, coughing and spluttering; Candy looked at the laughing Maggie. “Think that was funny, do you?” she asked. “Well, you can join her!” She pulled the lever and the chair tipped forward, propelling the brunette head first into the pool, to more cheers and laughter from the three relatively clean girls.

Seeing her quarry enter the pool, Charlotte stopped glowering at the girls and stalked towards the brunette Londoner. Maggie emerged, spitting out a mouthful of cream, to the sight of Charlotte’s creamy cock in front of her.
“Lick it,” the blonde demanded. “Suck it clean.”

A kneeling Maggie did what she was told, taking the rubber implement into her mouth and cleaning it with her mouth and tongue. Between her actions and Charlotte rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, the blonde was getting closer to the edge as the phallus inside her did its thing.

Once she’d removed all the cream from the cock, Maggie slid it out of her mouth; she leaned back, looking up at the blonde Amazon and awaiting her next instruction. “Spread your knees,” Charlotte told her; Maggie complied.

The blonde guided the dildo inside Maggie’s sopping pussy, eliciting a groan of pure lusty pleasure from the brunette. Charlotte thrust forwards and back, the two cocks bringing both women closer and closer to orgasm. The two came almost simultaneously; Charlotte’s legs giving way on her and she slumped forward on to her partner, sending Maggie splatting on her back in the cream; she laughed and hugged the blonde, who began passionately kissing her as their co-workers cheered.

When she was able to, Charlotte withdrew from a disappointed Maggie. The blonde smiled wickedly. “Turn around and bend over,” she requested with a wink. The London girl complied and Charlotte entered her again, adding a push to the back of Maggie’s head, sending it into the cream before tugging her hair to pull her out again. She gave the brunette three more head dunkings before Maggie came again, loudly and violently.
“Ladies,” Candy called to the applauding trio. “Since you’re all wanting to be a team, you really should join your teammates.” Five pairs of eyes lit up at the suggestion. “We do have one rule here though; no clothing can be worn in the pool.”

Becky laughed; as her boobs were on display and the back of the top was already at her waist, she simply had to slide the bottoms down her legs. Annie helped Denise out of her suit, taking advantage of the opportunity to have a good grope and fondle. She watched the two eagerly jump into the creamy pool before shedding her own suit and climbing in after them.

While the other three girls were busy (Charlotte was fucking Becky while eating out Denise - the other two girls were kissing), Maggie sat back in the cream and pulled Annie on to her lap.
“Fancy making it seven later on tonight?” she asked huskily. Annie’s hundred watt smile lit the room.
“I can’t wait,” she replied, sealing it with a handful of cream to Maggie’s face, and a long, sweet kiss.

I'm re-posting this (and hopefully other stories) on here after UMD informed me that I had to delete them from their site (I won't go in to the politics of it here - just enjoy the story)

The Get Your Own Back music played showing the crazy games, Dave Benson-Philips wearing his usual bright shirts pulling faces at the camera and contestants getting a variety of different colour gunge thrown, poured, dumped and splattered on them. The opening sequence montage finished with the usual show ending – a female’s viewpoint of their bare feet on a platform hurtling down a ramp getting splatted with gunk before disappearing in a large vat of multi-coloured gunge.

‘Hello everybody!’ cried Dave B-P as he bounced in front of the camera, ‘Welcome to a new episode of Get Your Own Back’ – the audience cheered as Dave continued. ‘Without further a-goo, let’s meet our first contestant!’

A smiling blonde girl walked out wearing the yellow GYOB t-shirt and black shorts. She was short in height, but perfectly in proportion. She had clearly spent some time doing her hair and makeup as it was spotless. Her blonde hair was nearly tied up, showing her soft neck, blue eyes and big smile. On her ankle was a little heart tattoo.

‘Hi Dave! I’m Charmaine and I want to get my own back on my mum, Lucy!’ The bubbly blonde girl said enthusiastically.

The screen cut away to a pre-recorded film of Charmaine, dressed casually in a strappy top which accentuated her big breasts and tight fitting jeans. Charmaine’s voice continued the narrative as the camera panned around a house.

‘My mum, is a slave driver, she needs to have everything neat and tidy all the time and when anything’s not in its place, she gets very stressed out! When I get back from college, she doesn’t let me chill and watch the TV until the house is spotless.’ The film showed Charmaine making a mess and her exasperated mother tiding up after her. ‘She’s just as bad at work,’ the film cut to a posh looking beauty salon with Charmaine lounging about getting treatment, her fingernails being filed and simultaneously receiving a facial – her mum still running around after her. ‘it’s all go, go, go. Do me a favour, Dave, and give my stressed out mum a relaxing trip into your gunk dunk!’

‘Let’s meet this stressed out mum!’ said Dave as boos echoed around the studio.

The lady from the film, Charmaine’s mum, walked out. Rather than being dressed in her smart clothes from the film, she was wearing a yellow GYOB t-shirt and shorts. Like in the film, though, she was very glamorous with it. She had a curvy figure with big breasts and with impeccable makeup on her face, her nails perfectly manicured and here blonde hair flawlessly styled and tied up. Her skin was brown from sunbeds and looked healthy and soft.

‘So, Lucy, what do you have to say for yourself?’ Asked Dave.

‘Well, I think Charmaine is wrong. I’m not a slave driver, she’s just lazy!’ Lucy replied.

‘Let’s leave it there, shall we, Lucy? And let’s meet the blues!’

Across from the other side of the stage ran on an athletic looking girl dressed in a blue GYOB t-shirt and black shorts. Her dark hair was short and neatly styled to her head and it was clear by the way her t-shirt hung from her slim body that she was a sporty girl. She hadn’t applied a lot of makeup and was naturally beautiful with a cheeky dimpled smile and a sparkle in her eyes. She waved sportingly at the audience and stood next to Dave.

‘Hi Dave and hi everyone!’ she said confidently ‘My name’s Emma and I too want to get my own back on my mum, Charlotte.’

Once again, the screen cut away to Emma in a tight crop-top and cycling shorts working out in a gym. Emma’s soft voice continued the story.

‘My mum, Charlotte is sooooo embarrassing! She joined the same gym as me and is always chatting up the fit lads.’ In the background, a fit blonde haired lady was chatting and laughing with a couple of younger men by some weights. ‘She’s always trying to say we’re sisters cos she says she doesn’t look old enough to have an 18 year old daughter.’ The scene changed to Charlotte and Emma taking part in a high energy spinning class, sweat pouring from both of them. ‘She challenges me all the time to try and show that she’s fitter than me.’ Charlotte and Emma stopped peddling on their bikes and Charlotte raised her hands in the air cheering like she had just won a race, Emma responded by shaken her head and looking down embarrassed. ‘Put my mum in her place, Dave, and drop her in your gunk dunk!’

‘Let’s meet this sporty mum!’ cried Dave as the audience booed.

The lady from the film jogged out, also wearing the blue GYOB t-shirt and shorts. She was undeniably Emma’s relation, although she looked a little older, is did not look like there was nearly 20 years between them. Her blonde hair was also tied back and, like her daughter, she did not put much makeup on. She had a fresh face and a big smile which showed her perfect white teeth.

‘Hi Dave!’ Charlotte said as she joined her daughter.

‘What do you have to say for yourself?’ Dave asked.

‘Well…’ Charlotte started before it cut away to another film. Set in the same gym as before, but this time, it was Charlotte giving the narrative.

‘My daughter is such a pain! She follow me everywhere I go and copies me with everything I do. She even once had the same hairstyle as me. The final straw was when she joined my gym! Every class I take and every person I speak to, I look round and there she is! They say that imitation is the greatest form of flattery, but Dave, really? Do us all a favour and let me get my own back on Emma and dunk her in the gunk dunk!’

‘Well, well, well!’ said Dave, ‘This is a twist!’

‘Actually, Dave,’ said Lucy, the mum from the yellows ‘can I say something?’

‘By all means, love!’ Dave said.

‘Well…’ Lucy began as the scene was switched to another pre-recorded film.

The film showed Charmaine lounging around in the salon from the first film. Lucy’s narrative over the film continued. ‘Charmaine is unbelievable! Not only is she so messy at home and I spend most of my time cleaning up after her, but after college, she comes to my beauty salon and expects to be waited on hand and foot!’ The film showed Charmaine getting a manicure then a pedicure. ‘All the treatments she receives are free and how does she show her gratitude? She want to gunge me! Dave, give her your beauty treatment and cover her in the slime from your gunk dunk!’

‘Oh, so both our mums want to get their own back on their girls and the girls want to get their own back on their mums!’ Dave summarised. ‘Having heard all the arguments, I think I’m going to agree with your mums – they do know best, don’t they!! I’m afraid that one of you two, Emma and Charmaine, are going for a trip in my gunk dunk – I’ve deceived to spare your mothers… For now!! Ha ha!!’

Emma and Charmaine looked at each other, then at Dave and then at their devious mothers for setting them up like this. Their faces filled with dread as the camera panned over the gunk dunk and projected the disgusting looking slop on a big monitor behind them. Charmaine looked at her feet and shook her head in disbelief. Her mum, Lucy and Emma’s mum, Charlotte had massive smiles on their faces, ecstatic that they managed to get one over on their daughters.

‘You can’t do this…’ Charmaine protests fell on deaf ears.

‘This isn’t fair!!’ added Emma.

‘It is fair, Emma,’ Dave replied, ‘you were happy to dunk your mothers, so I think it’s fair they should get to dunk you instead!! Ha ha!!’

Once again, Emma and Charmaine looked dumbstruck, disappointed and scared as to how this show will end for one of them.

‘But… Before the gunk dunk, we have three messy games to play. So without further delay – let’s get on with the first game!’ Dave announced.

*****

Dave stood in the games arena with the mums, Lucy and Charlotte either side of him. Around them lay various items of soft beauty items including big hairbrushes, large lipsticks, hairdryers, hair straighteners and big tubs of nail polish, one set was all yellow and the other all blue. They were scattered around beauty salon furniture, sets of sinks, chairs and loungers.

Dave introduced the game. ‘Welcome to the GYOB beauty salon – how does it compare to yours, Lucy?’ Lucy looked around and laughed, as Dave continued the game instructions. ‘The Get Your Own Back salon is a real mess. Our mums, here, have to collect the items of beauty products that have been scattered on the floor – making sure that they only collect the items that are coloured in their team’s colour.’ Dave addressed the mothers. ‘Once you’ve found an item, you need to bring it over here, to the storage cabinets.’ Dave walked the mothers over to the edge of the beauty salon games area. Next to the cabinets, sat sulking, were Emma and Charmaine.

Emma and Charmaine were sitting on big, black, leather looking lounger chairs, their legs stretched out in front of them, barefooted with their soft soles facing the salon set. Just below their feet and in front of their loungers was a pit of horrible looking brown muck.

‘Mums,’ Dave continued, ‘once you have collected all the items and place them in the cabinet, you need to close the cabinet door. The first mum to tidy the salon and close the cabinet door will make their daughter’s chair tip and slide her into the special ‘orrible Get Your Own Back mud bath!’

Cries of ‘ooooooh’ and ‘yuck’ came from the audience as the cameras panned over the brown, bubbling mud pit. This was echoed by a disgusted looking Emma and Charmaine. This was definitely not how they expected the show to have started.

‘The winner of this games gets their daughter lifted one notch above the gunk dunk.’ Dave continued. ‘So, mums, take your starting positions… Get set… Get tiding that salon!’

Charlotte and Lucy rushed straight to work. They gathered the items one at a time and placed them in their respective storage cabinets. Emma and Charmaine were helpless and could do nothing to stop or even slow down their mums. But they did get a good view and perspective of how the game was going. And Charmaine was clearly the happier of the two. Charlotte was a lot quicker on her feet than Lucy. Charlotte was nearly finished and looking for the last item, whilst Lucy still had several to find. Emma was willing her mother not to find the last item. From her position she could see it, a blue hairdryer, and her mum was nowhere near it as she continued to looking around for it.

Emma looked over at Charmaine, her mum, Lucy had put yet another item in her cabinet. She willed Lucy on and looked back over at her mum. To Emma’s dismay, as she turned to look for her mum, she saw that Charlotte had found the hair dryer and was sprinting back towards Emma.

Emma looked in dismay as her mum put the final item into the cabinet and closed the door. Lucy had realised that she had lost the game and stopped running around the salon set and looked over at Emma. The top Emma’s chair began to rise, so that Emma was being tilted into an almost standing position.

Gravity eventually took its cause and Emma slid down the chair, feet first towards the mud bath. Her little feet disappeared in the brown slime, followed by her athletic, toned legs and bum. The chair had dumped her into the mud bath in a sitting position. She lifted her knees out for the gunge and pulled them protectively to her chest. The gunge dripped from her bare knees down her lags. She lifted her toes from the ground, her heels still on the floor and watched as the horrible brown goo drained from over her little toes. She squished her feet back into the gunge, submerging them.

A torrent of brown muck came splashing down the chair and saturating the back of Emma’s head and the back of her t-shirt. Emma could feel the gunge soaking her back and making the thin material of her t-shirt stick to her bare skin. She shook the slime off her head and ran her hand over her head, though her hair to get as much gunge out as possible from her short black hair. Emma’s big dimples and smile were no longer there as she shuddered, cowering in the mud bath.

Emma stood up in the mud bath as soon as she could. She was shin deep in the smooth, runny, brown gunge. Her legs were shiny and brown from the slime, with the gunge dripping from her shorts. She moved her little feet around the gunge and looked over at her mum in shock and disbelief that this had happened to her. Especially as it was caused by her mum.

As gungings go, she felt she got of quite lightly, the front of her t-shirt and her face were relatively clean. She shook her little bum as the gunge dripped off it. She could feel it had soaked through her shorts and run up the legs of her shorts making her underwear disgustingly wet and sticky with slime.

‘Well done, Charlotte!’ Dave said ‘That win puts Emma one notch above the gunk dunk and has given Emma a good gunging! How does it feel, Emma?’

‘Disgusting, Dave. This isn’t fair!!’ Emma continued to protest as she wiped the brown slime from her legs. She really wanted to get out of the gunge pool, the feeling of the slime over her skin was nasty and she hated having her bare feet submerged in it. She curled her little toes in disgust, lifting them out of the gunge pool and then having to dunk them back under.

‘Lucy, as for you…’ Dave walked over to Lucy and put his arm around her. ‘I’m afraid you lost, so that means you’ve got a forfeit.’

Charmaine’s eyes lit up at the thought of getting her mum messy.

‘Come over here.’ Dave said as he guided Lucy to one of the salon chairs, which looked similar to the one Emma and Charmaine were sat on. Charmaine had climbed down from her chair and made her way over to Dave and her mum. ‘Take a seat, Lucy.’ Dave said. Lucy did as she was told and sat on the chair. She swivelled her body round so that she was almost lying down, with her feet stretch in front of her. She clasped her hands on her little tummy and looked over at Dave and Charmaine.

‘How about giving your mum’s hair a quick wash?’ Dave asked Charmaine, passing her a small bucket of blue gunge labelled shampoo.

‘Good idea!’ said Charmaine. She didn’t need to be asked twice as she took the bucket from Dave and made her way to the top of the chair where her mum’s head was. ‘Look up…’ Charmaine commanded. Lucy scrunched her eyes closed and held her breath. Charmaine poured the bucket of gunge over her mum’s head and face. The blue slime dripped down covering Lucy’s perfectly styled hair and makeup covered face. When the stream of slime had stopped, Lucy cleaned the gunge from her eyes with her hands and smiled. ‘Conditioner?’ Charmaine asked sarcastically as she upended a small bucket of purple gunge with conditioner written on it over her mum’s already messy head and face.

When the bucket was empty, Lucy sat up, legs still stretched out in front of her. The gunge dribbled down her face as she tried to clean it with her hands. The slime trickled down her neck and back. Lucy sat on the chair smiling. The forfeit was not over yet.

‘How about some nail polish, Lucy?’ Asked Dave as he passed a small bucket of red gunge to Charmaine.

Lucy, smiling, obliged by placing her hands out in front of her, palms down and fingers together. Her nails were already perfectly manicured, not too long with white tips. They had already been splattered with the blue and purple shampoo and conditioner gunge. Slowly Charmaine tipped some red gunge on her mum’s hands. Then Charmaine stopped and walked to the foot of the chair. She placed the bucket of gunge between Lucy’s feet and pulled off Lucy’s trainers, discarding them on the floor, revealing Lucy’s bronzed bare feet, with white tipped toenails matching her fingernails. Charmaine lifted the red nail polish gunge bucket up and slowly emptied it over her mum’s feet. Lucy laughed as she scrunched and waggled her toes to ensure that they were completely covered in the gunge. Lucy was clearly enjoying the gunging, she leant forward and, using her hands, she massaged the gunge into the tops of her feet and between her toes.

‘How did that feel, Lucy?’ Asked Dave.

‘Yeah, that was really nice and relaxing.’ Lucy replied as she continued to smear the red gunge over her hands, legs and feet.

‘You’re not supposed to be enjoying this, Lucy!’ Dave cried.

Charmaine couldn’t believe how much her mum was loving her forfeit.

‘How about a nice facial to finish off with?’ Dave asked. Right on cue, as Lucy rubbed the red gunge into her feet, Charmaine slapped a gooey white custard pie into her mum’s face. Bits of pie dripped on Lucy’s lap as she cleared the pie from her eyes laughing!

‘Thank you, Char!’ Lucy said, laughing. Her face covered in white pie and hair still dripping with gunge.

‘Good stuff, ladies. Let’s get washed up for the next game.’

*****

The cameras panned round to the new set that had been created whilst everyone was getting cleaned up and changed.

In the middle of the set was a large inflatable pool with big fish floating on a layer of blue gunge. Above the pool were Charlotte and Lucy sat on a raised wall wearing fishing hats and holding fishing rods in their hands. Their bare feet swinging over the wall, half a metre above the gunge pool.

Dave came on to introduce the game. ‘Welcome to today’s second game. We have our fisher-ladies,’ Dave pointed to Charlotte and Lucy who waved back at Dave, still swinging their feet above the gunge pool. ‘Their job is to catch as many fish as they can from the Get Your Own Back lake.’ Charlotte and Lucy started casting out their rods in a mock fishing motion.

Dave continued to explain, ‘But to try and slow you down, we have your daughters who will be trying to pinch the fish from the lake with their nets!’ Charmaine and Emma walked out embarrassed dressed ducks, with yellow beaks on their faces and rubber rings, with ducks on them, around their waists. In their hands they had long sticks with nets on the end. ‘Charmaine and Emma will be blindfolded and waddling around the lake trying to catch some fish too.’

The looks on Charmaine and Emma’s faces said it all. They looked ridiculous and were about to get a bit messy. Neither was at all impressed. Emma had just managed to clean the gunge off herself from the last game and now she had to climb into the gunge pool. Charmaine was dreading getting messy. She enjoyed sliming her mum, but hated the thought of getting messy herself.

‘The mother who hooks the most fish by the end of the game will win, and lift her daughter one notch away from the gunk dunk! You have one minute to catch as many fish as you can. Get set…’ Dave continued as Charmaine and Emma tentatively stepped barefooted into the gunge lake. Their feet disappeared into the blue slime, the goo just covering the tops of their feet. Both girls recoiled as the smooth runny gunge ran between their toes and under their feet, they shuffled around carefully as to not slip. Charmaine and Emma pulled duck masks cum blindfolds over their faces – they were now ready to start the game.

‘Go!’ Dave cried and the game began.

Emma and Charmaine tried not to move too much and too quickly as they didn’t want to slip and fall into the gunge. They prodded their big sticks around the pool to try and locate the fish and scoop it in their nets. Lucy and Charlotte were having an easier time. They were hooking the fish out from around their blindfolded daughters and collecting them in baskets by the wall. They were catching them at roughly the same pace and it was difficult to see who was catching the most.

In between trying to hook fish out, Charlotte and Lucy had quick swipes and nudges at their daughters, trying to unbalance them. It was Lucy who started it off, after she had her first fish hooked, Charmaine came a little too close to Lucy’s rod. Instinctively, Lucy waved the dangling fish at the head of her blindfolded daughter, splattering her with a little bit of gunge. Charmaine, in shock, nearly lost her footing. She dropped her fishing net and wiped the gunge from her mouth, which was unfortunately open. Then Charmaine decided that she had to bend down to try and find the net again. Lucy gave her an encouraging prod with her fishing rod whilst laughing.

Charlotte watched as Charmaine was bent over, her round bum in the air and her hands in the gunge searching for the net. Emma was getting close to Charmaine, the net end Emma’s stick in the gunge and her weight propped on the other end of the stick searching for fish. Charlotte took the opportunity to pull Emma’s stick away from her with the fishing rod as she hooked a fish out of the pool in front of Emma. Emma still held on to the stick as it slid away from her through the gunge. Momentarily, she lost her balance, her feet slithering, stamping and splashing around in the gunge pool, splattering blue slime up her bare legs. She composed herself and regained her balance, just as her mum came with another swipe of her fishing rod, complete with fish attached towards her head. This time Emma lost her balance and came crashing down in the gunge pool with a splat. Emma was sat in the slime, she could feel a fish near her legs, so she picked it up and threw it in the direct of her mum, missing her as Charlotte ducked out of the way.

The gunge covered Emma’s shorts and, once again, gave her a soggy bum. But Emma wasn’t finished yet. With sheer determination, she stood back up, the slime dripping from her bum and down the back of her legs. She curled her toes as she slipped and slid in the gunge looking for either a fish or her net. She found neither and just managed to bump into a disorientated Charmaine. Charmaine was still bend over, hands in the gunge looking for her net. The collision made her lose her balance too and she slipped and skidded in the gunge. She took her weight on her hands and her knees dropped into the gunge. She was now on all fours, the cold gunge covering from her hands, lower leg and her upturned soles. All she could think about was her ruined manicure and pedicure as she crawled around fumbling in the gunge.

To Emma and Charmaine’s relief, a minute had passed and a klaxon sounded with the lights coming up to the cheering of the audience.

‘That was a close game!’ Said Dave as he entered the set and walked over to Charlotte’s fish basket. Charmaine and Emma pulled off their duck masks, wiped the splattering of gunge from their faces. Blue gunge dripped from their lower legs and from the back of Emma’s sodden shorts. They both looked over at their mum’s fish baskets with a mixture of eagerness and anticipation – they had no idea how their mums did but they were looking forward to gunging the loser after the splattering of gunge they just received.

Dave leant over and started counting the fish from the basket, throwing them as he counted. ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Nine fish! Well done Charlotte!’ The audience cheered as did Charlotte. Everyone looked over as Dave counted the fish from Lucy’s basket. ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Eight? Is that it? Yes, eight fish! Bad luck Lucy, it looks like Charlotte is the winner and Emma is now two notches above the gunk dunk!’ Charlotte, Charmaine and the audience cheered loudly. Charmaine punching her fist in the air victoriously.

‘You know what that means Lucy…’ Dave said to Charmaine’s delight.

‘Another forfeit?’ Lucy said trying to look disappointed. Although Lucy was disappointed that she wasn’t going to gunge her daughter, she was not worried about getting gunged herself. She was, once again, quite looking forward to it.

‘Come down here Lucy. And you too Charlotte.’ Said Dave as Charlotte and Lucy climbed down some steps that were concealed at the back of the wall.

Charmaine had stepped out of the gunge pool and was looking down at her blue gunge covered knees, calves and feet. She rubbed the slime around in her hands.

‘I think you and Emma need to take a seat in the lake…’ Dave said as he held Lucy’s hand, steadying her as she placed her bare foot in the pool.

Lucy smiled as the gunge flowed under her foot and between her toes. She stepped her other foot in. Doing as Dave instructed, she lowered herself into the pool, she sat down, legs straight out in front of her and her blue slimy toes pointing towards the ceiling. The gunge rushed up her legs and into her shorts soaking her knickers. She laughed and looked up at Dave.

Emma, who was still standing in the gunge, watched as Lucy sat in the pool. It wasn’t that deep and the tops of Lucy’s legs and her knees were still clean. Resigned to her fate, she copied Lucy and sat back down in the gunge pool in a much more controlled fashion than her graceless tumbling in during the game. The gunge splattered rubber duck ring still around her waist, Emma sat in the pool next to Lucy. Emma lifted her knees and held them to her chest. She had a good idea as to what was about to happen.

‘Here’s your forfeit, Emma!’ Charlotte cruelly said, causing Emma to look up at her. Charlotte was holding a bucket of blue, runny gunge that had been scooped out from the pool. The gunge fell all over Emma’s face and Charlotte moved the bucket round to completely cover poor Emma’s face and hair. The gunge dripped from her short dark hair and over her bare knees. Emma rubbed the goo off her arms and legs as the final drops of gunge fell from the bucket. She shook her head and cleared her eyes, looking up to her mother.

‘Thanks for that that, mum!’ Emma said.

‘It was my pleasure!’ responded a chuckling Charlotte.

Lucy was enjoying herself even more now. She was lifting handfuls of gunge from either side of her legs and dumping it on her soft, smooth bronzed legs rubbing it into her soft skin. She rubbed the gunge on her leg from her knees to her thighs making her tingle inside. She looked at her perfectly pedicured toes and waggled them, enjoying the feeling of the ooze running down between her toes. She dunked her feet under the gunge once more and enjoyed the fabulous sensations it gave her.

Slowly Charmaine poured the contents of a gunge bucket over her mum’s head as Lucy played with the slime with her legs and feet. She aimed the bucket to completely destroy her perfectly styled blonde hair and the makeup on her face. And she was doing a good job of it. The blue gunge sloshed over Lucy’s head flattening her hair and causing the gunge to trickle down her back and under her t-shirt. Lucy lifted her chin up and allowed the flow of gunge to cover her face, ruining her makeup.

The bucket was now empty and Lucy looked up at Charmaine, smiling. Lucy ran her slimy hands over her messy head.

‘That was a brilliant forfeit!’ said Dave. ‘It looks like you didn’t like that Emma!’

‘This is horrible! Can I get out now?’ replied Emma as Dave laughed.

Lucy on the other hand was still really enjoying herself. She rolled over onto her front and, elbows in the gunge in front of her, propped her head on her hands. ‘I think this is amazing!’ She replied. The gunge had flowed up the front of her shorts as she rolled over and soaked the front of her knickers. Her big boobs were dipping into the gunge, which had saturated her t-shirt and made her tummy and breasts sticky with the blue slime. She bent her legs at the knee and waggled her legs as she lay there, the gunge dribbling and flicking from her bare feet.

‘Well, I’m glad you’re having fun, Lucy’ replied Dave, ‘But it’s now time to get cleaned up and ready for the third and final game before… the gunk dunk!’

The cameras had stopped rolling and the lights were up. Lucy walked over steadily to the edge of the gunk dunk and crouched down to speak to Charmaine. Charmaine was still standing in the middle of the gunk dunk and was brushing the gunge from her arms, flicking it into the gunge pit.

‘I hope you’re not too disappointed to have been dunked, Char.’ Lucy said, with a caring mothering voice. ‘You did get me really messy with all of those games!’

‘Not messy enough!’ Charmaine replied. ‘Besides, you looked like you loved the gungings!’

‘Well,’ Lucy responded, ‘it wasn’t that bad.’ And with that, she sat on the floor above the gunk dunk and swung her bare legs round so that they were dangling over the gunk dunk, millimetres above the gunge.

Charmaine looked at her mum puzzled. Lucy edged her bum forwards and dipped her bare toes into the gunge and pulled them out again. She watched as the gunge dripped from her toes as she waggled and scrunched them. She then shuffled forward a little bit more and submerged both of her feet up to her ankles in the gunge.

‘This does feel lovely!’ said Lucy as she lifted her feet out once more. The gunge slid down her perfectly pedicured, soft and smooth bare feet from her toes, down her soles and dripped back into the gunk dunk from her heels. After a moment, she dunked her feet back in. ‘No hard feeling?’ Lucy asked as she held out her right hand for Charmaine to shake.

Charmaine saw the opportunity and shuffled through the thick slime towards her mother’s extended hand. Charmaine pulled her hand from out of the gunge, flicked off as much slime as she could and took her mum’s soft hand in her slimy hand.

‘No hard feelings, mum.’ Charmaine said as she pulled sharply on her mum’s hand.

Just as Lucy had hoped, Charmaine had pulled her into the gunk dunk with her. Lucy’s soft, smooth bronzed legs disappeared under the gunge as she slid into the slime. The gunge rushed up the open leg holes of her shorts as her bare feet made their way to the bottom of the gunk dunk. Finally, her feet rested the sticky slimy floor. She waggled her toes under the gunge, enjoying the sensation of the slime running between her toes once more.

Lucy smiled at Charmaine. ‘That wasn’t very nice!’ Lucy said in a mock telling off. Lucy submerged her hands under the gunge and pulled out a couple of handfuls, the goo dripping from her perfectly manicured fingers. She threw the gunge at Charmaine, who edged away from her mother, laughing she retaliated and flicked gunge back at her mother’s face. The gunge dripped from Lucy’s nose as she laughed back.

Lucy was covered in the gunge up to her midriff. She could feel the cold slime lapping inside her shorts and soaking her knickers. She submerged her hands under the gunge once more and pulled out two more handfuls. This time, she lifted her hands up and rubbed the slime into her hair. ‘This does feel amazing, don’t you think?’

Charmaine, still laughing said, ‘No! It’s gross!!’ and she threw more gunge at Lucy which splattered on her clean t-shirt and neck. Lucy retaliated and threw some gunge back, Charmaine, turning her back to try and protect herself.

Lucy bent her knees and started to submerge her clean torso under the gunge. She could feel the messy slime against the soft skin of her little tummy. Her boobs were now just above the gunge. She allowed herself to submerge even more, her knees fell to the bottom of the gunk dunk and the boobs disappeared under the gunge. She closed her eyes as the wonderful sensation of the sticky goo running up her tummy and over her bra up to her neck made her tingle inside. Now just her head was bobbing on the surface. The gunge flooded her bra and soaked her big boobs. Under the gunge, she rubbed her big boobs through her t-shirt.

Charmaine sloshed over to her mum’s floating head and positioned herself behind her. Lucy’s long blonde hair was floating on the surface of the gunge.

‘Shampoo and set?’ Charmaine asked jokingly. Laughing, she scooped up handfuls of gunge and slapped them on her mum’s head, then began massaging the goo into her scalp as if she was really washing her hair.

Lucy bust out in laughter! ‘I think it’s time for a rinse!’

Lucy took a breath and dunked her head in under gunge. Her makeup ruined and hair dishevelled, she held her entire body in the wonderful gunge pit for as long as she could.

Lucy’s head emerged once more, she pinched her nose with her hand and cleared the slime from her eyes. She too was completely covered in the gunk like her daughter was. She looked over her shoulder at Charmaine and threw another two handfuls of gunge at her daughter.

Charmaine laughed at her mum. ‘This is just how I wanted the show to end – you completely covered in this horrible gunge! It’s just a shame I’ve been dunked too!!’

‘Come here, Char, and give me a cuddle!’ Lucy said as she turned around and faced her daughter, her arms out ready for an embrace. Lucy grabbed Charmaine and then Lucy pulled Charmaine under the gunge once more, completely covering them both in the sticky slime once again.

They both emerged from the gunge in their sticky, slimy cuddle – laughing loudly, the gunge dripping from their faces and hair.

‘I might start offering gungings to my clients at the salon!’ Lucy joked. ‘It’s so much fun and quite relaxing!’

‘Ha ha!’ Charmaine replied laughing, ‘You can count me out! Once is more than enough for me!!’

A stagehand came over. ‘Come on ladies,’ he said. ‘Time to get out and cleaned up!’