Out of the Closet, by Messy Muddy Michael

“Out of the closet, and on to…” (F/F Mud)

By Messy Muddy Michael

The events, places, and persons portrayed within this piece are complete fiction. Any similarity is strictly by accident. This story is 100% public domain. Please feel to distribute this to all your friends and family, and post to any and all homepages that desire such subject matter. I only ask that you do not change any part of the story (except for spelling errors).

Joe has been married to Joyce for about 3 years. Joe has been WAM fan for many years, and Joyce has been very open minded about this, but had never really embraced the concept. Joyce never complained when Joe decided to purchase the latest WAM tape, and would even record news clips about wet and messy eventsfor him. Once in awhile, Joyce would watch these WAM tapes with Joe, and although she was never disgusted by them, she never really showed much sign of enjoying them either. Joe has always had a feeling that Joyce wants to try being messy, but denies it if she is asked. So Joe never pushes her.

A few weeks back, Joyce was at work talking to her friend Mandy. She mentioned that Joe had just received another video tape in the mail, and that they had watched it last night. Mandy noticed a little smile play around on Joyce’s face as she described some of the scenes from the tape.

“You enjoy watching those tapes don’t you?” inquired Mandy.

“Don’t be silly.” retorted Joyce.

“So you really find them digusting, right?”

Joyce hesitated, then said “They don’t disgust me.”

“Then you do like them”.

“Yeah, I guess I do, a little” Joyce was blushing.

“Admit it, you would like to be covered in mud, or some other messy material, right?” Mandy coaxed. “It would turn you on as much as it would Joe”

“Well I might like it, but …. I don’t know..”

“I think you should give it a try. Sounds like fun to me. Hey, I have to get back to work. Talk to you later.” Mandy leaves the break room, leaving Joyce to think.

Recently, Joyce was at work when she checked e-mail. She had a message titled, “Your lucky day”, from Mandy. The message was about a mud volleyball happening at the ball field near her home this afternoon. Mandy suggested she go have a look, just watch, and see what she thinks. Joyce’s heart started to beat a little faster. She knew taht she had to go. She thiught to herslef that she didn’t have get muddy, just see things up close, and decide if she would like to try it one day or not. It was decided, she would stop by after work, and see what happens.

Joyce arrived at the field as things were nearing an end. The four volleyball courts were nothing more then large pits of ankle deep mud with nets streched across the center. The semi-finals were going on as she arrived, so only two of the courts were in use. The other two were vacant, with exception of a few people wrestling around, and throwing mud at one another. Joyce watched as a college girl dressed in blue shorts, x-large white t-shirt and white ankle calf length socks walked toward one of the pits. She gently stepped into it, and her feet sank right in to just above her ankles. The girl continued to walk, moving a few feet forward, then she slipped and fell butt first intot the mess. As Joyce watched this, her heart was pounding at a furious pace. She was dying to see what it was like to, but she was still a little embarassed about doing it. Just then a gentleman came up to, and said “Looks like fun, don’t you think?” Joyce was surprised by the man. She said “yes, it does look like fun.”

“Why don;t you join in?’ The man said.

“I don’t have a change of clothes” Joyce replyed

“Just take around aorunf the pit. It’ll be fun”

“I don’t know…” Joyce said.

“I’ll give you $100 dollars to just walk across the pit, and back again.”

Joyce thought about this for moment. She thought to herself “I could just wash my feet off, and Joe will not know” So she told the man “o.k., I’ll do it.” Joyce looked carefully at the man, and asked him “Have we met before?”

“No, I don’t think so”

Joyce just shrugged her shoulders, and set about to her task. She kicked off her flats, walked towards the pit. She was dressed in a white blouse, black skirt, and black panyhose. As she walked towards the pit, she admired the feeling of stepping on the many bits of mud that had been thrown about. When she reached the edge of the pit, she paused for a moment. “Well here goes” she thought, and stepped forward. As her right foot sank into the mud, Joyce was overwelmed by the feeling of mud oozing around her nylon covered foot. Without much hesitation, she quickly brought her other foot forward, and there she was, standing ankle deep in the mud. She started to slide her feet around, just enjoying the feeling, before continuing across the pit. Each step caused her to become more and more aroused. She would never have believed that this could feel so good. When she reached the opposite edge of the pit, she had a look of disappointment on her face, as she knew that her fun was already half over. She turned around, and headed back. As she got about half way across, two kids jumped in front of her, and started to wrestle around. She didn’t want to ruin their fun, so she started to walk around them, and that’s when it happened. As she walked around, the ground under her feet seemed to dissappear. Suddenly Joyce sank up to her waist into a large, deep mud hole. She her nylon and cotton cover crotch hit the mud, she let a groan of pleasure. When Joyce opened her eyes, she looked down, and saw her skirt floating on top of the mud. Everything else from the waist down was buried in mud. Joyce started to move around, but the going was slow. Then all of the sudden, the man who offered the $100, came up to the edge of the deep mud hole, with microphone in hand, and said “Smile, your on Candid Funny Practical Joke Videos” It was then that Joyce recognized the man, he was the host of a nationally televised program that catches people on hidden caerma as pracical jokes are played on them. Joyce couldn’t help but start to laugh.

“Would you like to know who played this joke on you?”

Joyce just nodded yes. Then from the crowd that had gathered, out stepped Mandy, dressed in a white jogging suit, and white socks. She trotted across the pit, and jumped in to the hole with Joyce. Mandy, being shorter than Joyce, sank almost up to her tits. “See, I told you you would like it.” Mandy bragged. “You little shit!!” Joyce said, as she started to throw mud at Mandy. Then the wrestling began. Within no time, both them were covered in mud. To get back at Mandy, Joyce reached down below the mud, put out the waistband of Mandy’s jogging pants, instantly filling them with mud. Joyce let the waistband snap back, and crawled out of the pit.

“Just try to get out of there now” Joyce laughed.

Mandy tried to move, but it was no use. There was no way she would be able to move with her pants filled with so much mud. But, having very little modestly, Mandy simply slipped the pants off as far a she could, and slowly crawled out of the pit. There Mandy stood, in her muddy Sweat shirt, ankle socks, and panties, all covered in mud.

“I’ll have to make sure Joe and I watch something else on Sunday. If he see’s this program, I’ll never here the end of it.” Joyce exclaimed.

“Oh I don’t think that will be a problem” Mandy said, as she went back to the pit to retrieve here pants.

“Why do you say that Mandy?”

“Because I recorded the whole for myself”

Joyce turned around, and there was Joe, with camcorder in hand. Joe gave Joyce a big hug, and said “I knew you had it in you”

Just Another Day at the Office, by SirMarhalt

Just Another Day at the Office

My secretary is the world’s biggest tease. She insists on being called an “administrative assistant” and this truly is a more accurate description of the nature of her job. I still call her my secretary because it pisses her off. Carla is about 5’7″ and has thick black hair that hangs down to her shoulders. Sometimes she wears it in a frizzy perm and other times in soft gentle curls. She has big dark eyes and long lashes . She can get anything she wants with her smile and she knows it. She has a body that bespeaks several hours a week of aerobics and the stairmaster. If she wasn’t so good at her job my partner and I would have fired her long ago. Carla has evolved from secretarial work to administrative assistant in a very short time. I have gotten to the point where I actually encourage her creative input. She also has a talent for flirting that is truly exceptional and she seems to know exactly how far she can go with any given man. I hate to admit it but she has gotten us a lot of business with this skill.

I am part owner of an advertising agency. We produce commercials for the local television station for businesses here in town. This is a stressful business that requires one to think creatively under enormous pressure. This pressure sometimes leads to behavior that is somewhat less than mature. Take our annual practical joke war. Each year in the springtime Carla and I play a series of practical jokes on one another involving a common theme. Two years ago the theme was plastic spiders (she didn’t speak to me for a week after I hid a real tarantula in her desk drawer) and last year it was water. The water war was fun. It started with small squirt guns and the standard water bucket on top of the door gag and ended at a lawn party with both of us fully clothed in my neighbors swimming pool.

I thought long and hard about this year’s theme and decided to approach the subject in a way that would appeal to Carla yet not make her so mad she would quit her job. Susan, my partner, would kill me if that happened. Each year we all go out to lunch at our favorite restaurant during secretaries week. (We call it “Carla Appreciation Week” at our office.) I volunteered to make the reservation this year. I went to the restaurant the day before and explained to our waitress what I had in mind. Her eyes got big and she said, “Are you sure you want me to do this?” When I said yes she said “I’m going to enjoy this more than your secretary!”

So the next day we’re sitting at the table in the restaurant waiting for Carla to finish her cigarette (this is one of the many ways she gets back at me for calling her a secretary) . As usual, Susan and Carla were dressed at exactly opposite ends of the spectrum. Susan was wearing a perfectly tailored business suit while Carla was wearing a black leather vest over a white blouse and her tightest jeans. The waitress came to our table carrying a dozen roses which she ceremoniously handed to Carla.

I said, “Carla, Susan and I just want to thank you for being such a great secretary.”

The waitress picked up a large cream pie from a nearby dessert cart and pushed it into my face. She twisted the pie slowly back and forth and said, “She’s not a secretary she’s an administrative assistant you moron!” I could hear Carla howling with laughter along with everyone in the restaurant.. Everyone but Susan, that is. I let the pie slowly drop into my lap and looked over at them. Carla was still laughing uncontrollably while Susan’s face had the pained expression it always has when she thinks Carla and I are acting childish.

Susan is your typical Nordic ice-queen. She has long blond hair, high cheekbones, a small perfectly turned up nose, and impossibly deep blue eyes. She also has no sense of humor at all. Needless to say, she handles all of the financial aspects of our business while Carla and I handle the creative part.

I wiped some of the pie off my face and said, “So what do you think our theme for this year’s practical joke war should be?”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” said Susan.

“I think it’s a great idea!” said Carla as she drew her finger across my face and tasted it. “What kind of pie is that? It’s perfect for plastering someone.”

“Buttercreme frosting. Just go down to Carol’s bakery on Fifth street and tell her I sent you.”

We both agreed wear clothes that we didn’t mind getting pie on for the next two weeks. Susan also made us agree not to hit each other with pies while our clients were in the office. Carla and I both rolled our eyes at this request.

The next day Carla and I watched each other very carefully and Susan watched us both with a mixture of disdain and amusement. Carla was wearing a black blouse and a tight black leather skirt. I always watch her carefully when she wears that outfit. Later that afternoon, as I was coming out of the copy room I noticed Carla putting on her black leather gloves and jacket as she left the building. I rushed into the office and grabbed the pie I brought. I quickly went out the door Carla always takes when she goes on a cigarette break and sure enough, there she was, standing with her back to me telling a group of people about our “pie war”. I snuck up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and I slowly pushed the pie into her face and held it there.

I said, “Okay folks, how many of you think Carla is way over matched in this contest of wits?” This resulted in a chorus of applause and laughter. I released the pie and Carla stood there with her hands at her sides and listened to everyone laughing while the pie slowly slid down her face. Then she took a puff on her cigarette and said, “Very good. I can see I’m up against a pro here.”

Carla left before I did that day and as I walked to my car I congratulated myself on outsmarting her on the first day. I got in my car and just before I turned the key I got a pie in the face. Carla held it there and spoke directly into my ear. “You should always check your back seat before you get in a car. You never can tell who might be hiding back there.” She got out of my car and said, “See you tomorrow sweetie”

This went on for a week. One of the best times I got her was while she was on the phone. She was talking away while staring out the window. I snuck up behind her and waited for her to finish talking. She was saying something like, “Okay, I’ve gotta get back to work … Ohhh ” as she turned to get a facefull of buttercreme frosting. “No, I’m allright. Remember that pie in the face thing I was telling you about? Well, I just got one right in the kisser…” . She sat there with the phone in her ear and her face up turned so that the pie just sat there. “How does it feel? It feels like a facial with crust. You should try it sometime.” I squeezed her shoulder and left, laughing.

One night right after I got home from work there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and there was a beautiful blonde in a cheerleader outfit. “Hi, my name is Shelly and I’m selling cookies for my cheerleader squad.”

“That’s great, what kind do you have?” I asked.

She quickly took a pie from behind her back and let me have it. “Oh, wait. Actually I’m selling pies. I can never get that straight.” she said while she twisted the pie back and forth. I could hear Carla giggling in the background.

“That’s not fair,” I protested. “You can’t let other people hit me!”

“Okay. Here.” Carla pushed a pie into my face while the blonde laughed.

Well two can play that game.

The next day Carla put on her long black leather trench coat and left the building for her afternoon smoke break. She sensed something was wrong as soon as she stepped out the door. “Why aren’t any of you smoking?” she asked. She quickly turned around to check behind her. There was no one there. As she turned back around one of her fellow secretaries gave her a pie in the face. This was quickly followed by one on either side of her head. I emerged from the building just in time to put one on top of her head. She stood there in stunned silence while everyone had yet another laugh at her expense.

I ceremoniously drew my finger across her face and tasted it. “Allright, breaktime’s over. Don’t you have some filing or typing to do?”

Carla tentatively touched her hair with her gloved fingers and winced noticeably when she realized what a mess she was. “I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to top this,” she said.

The next few days were uneventful since we were in the process of negotiating for a series of commercials for one of the biggest auto dealers in town. We would all be significantly wealthier if we won this account. We decided to close the deal at our usual restaurant over lunch.

In addition to the money, I was really hoping to get this account because the client, Amanda Jacobs, has an excellent sense of humor. I just knew she would really appreciate the funny commercials Carla and I could come up with. As it turned out, old Amanda had a better sense of humor than I realized.

After lunch we presented Amanda with the contract and she announced, “Everything looks great but before I sign there is one small service I want you partners to provide to demonstrate the depth of your commitment.”

Susan and I looked at each other and then Amanda with no small amount of suspicion. Then I noticed that Carla had stood up and was motioning to our waitress who was wheeling a dessert cart loaded with pies to our table.

“If you want me to sign this contract you’re going to have to let Carla and I give each one of you four pies in the face or wherever we deem appropriate,” Amanda said. “Carla and I have been holding some additional negotiations that we decided not to tell you about.”

Susan groaned.

I said, “Good one Carla. I’m going to have to concede victory here.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Susan.

“Trust me Susan, I’ve never been more serious,” Amanda said with equal parts conviction and bitchiness. Then she picked up a pie and said, “I’m going to count to three …”

“Allright, allright I’ll do ohhhhh…” was all Susan got out before Carla pushed a pie into her upturned, disbelieving, pretty face,.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for 3 years!” Carla said as she slowly twisted the pie back and forth. The restaurant erupted in loud cheers and laughter.

“Amanda, I’ll really owe you one if you let me give her the next pie,” I implored.

“Yeah, I think he deserves this,” said Carla as she handed me a pie.

“If you do that I’ll never speak to you again,” snapped Susan.

“Promises, promises,” I laughed and then I carefully plastered her hair. Amanda took over and gave her the other two pies, taking great care to get as mush as possible on Susan’s business suit.

“Now it’s your turn sweetie,” said Carla, holding up a pie.

I stood up and gave her a long kiss, “Lemme have it, partner!”

Carla stopped, “You mean it?”

I looked at Susan. “Is that okay with you, Susan?”

Susan looked up at us wearily under several ounces of frosting and a ruined business suit and said, “Sure, why not. I’ve already got one immature loon for a partner, why not have two?”

That was the last civil thing she said to either of us for a month.

Messy Torture, by MessyBoy

Subject: WAM — Story: Messy Torture

Steve peered through the brush ahead and adjusted his goggles silently. Silence was all around him. He could feel the presence of the enemy—somewhere. In his admittedly poor camouflage—jeans and a green t-shirt—he was an easy target. No need to make himself an easier one. He reviewed his orders mentally, went over what Roger had told them all before dispatching them on the day’s patrols.

“This is the largest capture-the-flag game we’ve ever played, and it has the broadest rules. Run your patrols, learn what you can, but don’t get captured—a two-man team in Sector Five:B was taken down last night while you were asleep. One man was taken, the other escaped to tell us that, on-the-spot, the enemy was just barely within the limits of the rules on torture, and promising to do more. That is all.”

Steve sighed inwardly and continued to observe from his designated station. An all-female army was out there, just trying to capture him and the rest of his team, scattered around Sector Four. Even if, in reality, he was a twenty-three year old magazine writer, with a nice little place to stay and a cool car and no real troubles, here in the field he was a man at war, in constant danger. He was ready, able, and—alert? He thought he saw something move in the clearing a few bushes away from him. He adjusted his scope, but made a little too much noise and felt the presence of three women around the bush. “Come on out, Green scum,” said one of them. Steve was trapped. “Don’t make us have to use force,” said another voice.

Reluctantly Steve realized that he had no choice, and slowly rose out of the bush. “Hands UP!” barked the attractive brunette who was now a foot away from him. Steve brought his hands up and felt hands from behind taking his water pistol and all his spy equipment. “Looks like we caught ourselves a Green SPY, girls,” said the brunette. “Step out of that bush, and don’t try anything funny.” Steve stepped out of the bush, and he never considered trying anything funny—being face-to-face with such a pretty woman tends to destroy a man’s thoughts of escape. “Let’s MOVE, girls, it’s daytime here,” ordered the brunette, and two strong hands forced Steve’s hands behind his back, where a pair of cheap handcuffs was applied, and a shove from the rear got Steve moving. After a second or two of getting a decent view of the brunette’s shapely rear, a blindfold was wrapped around Steve’s face, and he proceeded in darkness and silence.

Finally they reached a building of some sort; Steve heard a door open, then close behind him. The blindfold was removed and he saw that he was in an old shed, remodeled the month before during the preparation period for the war. The whole building was probably camouflaged in some way, Steve reasoned, like the men’s base. Windows were boarded over, and a chair was attached to the floor, which Steve was forced to sit in and be attached to with a chain attached to the handcuffs. Finally he got a good look around, and saw that whatever treatment he was going to receive, it would be at the hands of the brunette. He doubted there was much chance of escape at this point—the door was locked and he felt sure there might be other nearby stations with enemy operatives nearby. He was caught, and it was up to the Browns to make the first move.

The brunette spoke. “My name, Green, is Sylvia. You will answer only when spoken to and you will tell me what I want to know or there will be consequences for you. Understand?” A subdued Steve nodded. “Well then, Green,” said Sylvia in a slightly less authoritarian voice, “what is your name, so that I can address you more specifically?”

“Steve,” Steve said quickly. He had received training, after all, and he knew that the best way to go was to answer such questions quickly and to the point, and to hold one’s lips only on those things which were of key importance. It was always possible that he might not even be asked about such matters—although it was doubtful.

“All right, Steve. We may begin. First, what were you doing in that bush when we found you?”

Steve replied obediently, knowing it wasn’t important, “I was running patrol for my side, as per my orders.” Sylvia looked impatient. “And what were you patrolling for?”

“Signs of enemy activity.” He avoided the specific phrasing, which included “…to be reported back to base” as that would bring up the topic of home base. Sylvia did not seem satisfied, however. “Who gave you those orders?” “My commanding officer.” “Where were the orders given?” “At my regional base.” “And where is that?”

Steve simply replied, “I don’t know,” which was the appropriate response. “I don’t belive you,” was Sylvia’s icy reply. “Where is your regional base?”

“I don’t know.” Sylvia walked behind Steve and apparently rummaged around in a box. She walked around to face him, and he got a good look at her, dressed in an outfit much like his, only with a brown t-shirt instead of green. It was a tight fit and he couldn’t help getting hard, watching her watching him. Then he noticed what she was holding—a labelless brown bottle, which he recognized as a chocolate syrup bottle. Steve was a bit surprised, but kept his straight face as Sylvia said, “Do you know what this is?” He nodded. “Good.” Sylvia walked up to him and he got even harder looking at her body, so caught up in his view that he didn’t think to try and kick her. Then he saw her pull the cap off the bottle and bring it up over his head. He could only close his eyes reflexively as the stream of warm, thick syrup dropped onto the top of his head and began pooling outward. Soon the first drip ran over his face, and he felt the flow increase—no doubt Sylvia was squeezing harder. Harder was what Steve was getting as the goo slid down his neck in several places and began to stain his green shirt. “Soon you will be a brown too, little Green boy,” Sylvia said, and it was true. Abrubtly the flow cut off. “More direct method,” said Sylvia, and she brought the bottle down, right in front of his face, and squeezed so that it went directly on to his shirt. It travelled slowly from the feel of it, but it was gradually covering his front. “Once I’m done, Green boy, it won’t take much for you to be mistaken for one of your own in the night, and be shot down. Do you want that to happen, Green boy?”

Steve realized the fiendishness of their plan. If he wouldn’t talk, they’d simply make him up to be a Brown, and release him at night. He’d be shot down by his own men, and as the water pistols packed a neon-colored paint there would be no way to pretend it hadn’t happened. Still, Steve said nothing as the bottle was emptied, his shirt not yet completely covered. “Hm, looks like we need something more,” said Sylvia, again walking behind him. With the bottle out of his face Steve was able to see that his shirt was indeed quite brown and that he was indeed in trouble. But he was still hormone-charged, and he realized that it had to do with the glop Sylvia was pouring on him as well as her figure. Ooh, how he’d like to get her in chocolate syrup, he thought. Sylvia came back around, holding now a bucket of something brown. Looked like cake batter, maybe brownie batter. It was obviously a lot thicker than the syrup, although a bit lighter. Without further warning Sylvia tipped the bucket over onto Steve’s front, and it quickly spread all over his shirt and down over the crotch of his pants, bringing Sylvia’s attention to his hard-on. “Hm, what’s this?” she said teasingly. “Answer me!”

Steve mumbled something. “Speak up!” “Well, ah, Sylvia, it’s just you’re so beautiful, and this stuff feels good..”

Sylvia blinked. This was not what she had expected. This torture was supposed to disgust her captures, and if it failed, force them to be gunned down by their teammates. But turn them on? Still, she could use this to her advantage. “Speak freely, Green. Tell me about how beautiful I am.”

Steve’s reply got jumbled up with moans of pleasure, but Sylvia got an idea. “Steve, there are armed guards outside every exit to this room. You cannot escape. So, I propose a deal. If you tell me the secret of your base, I will allow you to treat me as you will with these foods.”

Steve’s already hard cock reacted as if tossed in liquid nitrogen—it hardened another notch. His sense of duty crumbled under the possibilities. “All right!” he cried. “By the fork in the stream where there is a tree stump low down on the river bank—there is an old building covered by vines and weeds and buried in mud so that it looks like a hill—the entrance is down on the river bank!”

Sylvia spoke a few words through a slot in the wall to the next room, then there was a long waiting time before a response came back. Sylvia looked over to her captive. “Good work. They’ve found something. I am an honourable woman, so here goes.” She walked over and uncuffed Steve. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but she may have singlehandedly won the war for her side, and the prospect of being covered in gunk herself was actually turning her on as well. Steve stood up, rubbed his wrist and wiped the chocolate out of his eye. “All right,” he said, and he set to work. After handcuffing Sylvia as he had been handcuffed, he looked in a box behind the chair to find all manner of goo. First a bottle of chocolate syrup. Walking around, he brought it over, rested it right on top of Sylvia’s right breast, and squeezed, hard, sending a beautiful thick pool of goo all over her sexy chest. It soaked the tight fabric and outlined Sylvia’s braless breasts perfectly. He could see that her nipples were hardening up—was she enjoying this too? He looked up to see a broad smile on her face as he brought the bottle to her other breast and repeated the process. The bottle was soon discarded, and Steve reached over and began to rub his hands—and Sylvia’s breasts—in the chocolate. It felt…good. Sylvia let out a moan, and Steve could only grin and rub his crotch a bit as he walked around to grab a bucket of the batter. Sylvia’s eyes widened and her breath quickened as Steve brought the bucket up and emptied it over Sylvia’s head, instantly obscuring her features beneath a veil of sexy chocolate. Steve set the bucket down as the batter flowed down Sylvia’s neck and onto her shirt, and placed his lips on hers for the tastiest kiss he’d ever received, which only got tastier as Sylvia’s tongue worked its way into his mouth. He withdrew, though, to fetch a big bucket of chocolate pudding. He licked his lips as he pulled Sylvia’s jeans away from her slightly and tipped the bucket into her jeans.

Sylvia moaned and wiggled her hips back and forth to feel the pudding squish around her. In went Steve’s hand, which happily smooshed the pudding around and got a feel of Sylvia’s panties. “Next!” said Steve aloud as he took from the box a bucket of dark, liquid fudge, which of course went straight into Sylvia’s panties, with appropriate “handiwork” from Steve. By now Sylvia was moaning full force and approaching orgasm, which Steve could see, so he quickly unzipped her pants, releasing the pudding, and stuck his face into her panties, licking frantically, tasting the sweet, rich taste of fudge, and Sylvia’s womanhood. She came in seconds, and as Steve was extremely close to doing so himself, he pulled off his pants and shorts, unhooked the handcuffs, and brought himself into a gooey embrace with Sylvia, who was apparently quite willing, and as they rocked back in forth, his cock inside her, she grabbed at the various buckets and bottles and emptied them onto both of their bodies, creating a wonderful sexy chocolate fuck which neither of them would ever forget.

Finally, though, the fun was over, and each of them had come three times. They sank to the slimy floor and looked at each other. “Well, Brown,” said Sylvia, all of her previous contempt gone, “that’s the most fun I’ve had torturing someone, ever!”

Steve looked at her and said, plainly, “That’s the most fun I’ve had being tortured, ever! Can we do it again?”

And they did—but that’s another story.



Messy Chris’ Adventures in Mud

A Messy Makeup, by shoksy

A Messy Makeup, by shoksy@aol.com (m/f, messy play, pies, sex)

Part 1

Jake checked his cart one more time. Did he have everything he needed? He wanted to make sure that this night was something Sara would really love. He felt so bad about forgetting their anniversary, even though Sara had said it was okay. So he decided to makeup for it by setting up a night of messy play. He had planned it all out, was buying the suppyies now, and would go back to their place and set it up. It had been a couple months since he actually had surprised her with a good gunging, and she always loved it when he did.

Jake picked up one more can of whipped cream before he checked out, then went back to the apartment. He put the chocolate cream pies and whipped cream he had boughten in the fridge, to keep them cool till Sara got home, and placed the rest of the materials on the kitchen counter. Three cans of chocolate frosting, three cans of vanilla, 5 bags of brownie batter, 2 french vanilla cake mixes, plus the 4 pies in the fridge, and 2 cans of whipped cream. “Ya, this is enough to get Sara dripping in goo” Jake thought with a big smile on his face.

He went to work covering the kitchen and dinning room floors with the clear plastic painters tarps they kept around for these occasions, making sure to lead a trail off to the bathroom for afterwards. Looking down at his watch Jake realized time had slipped away from him, and Sara should be home any minute now. He quickly arranged the supplies on the counter so he would have easy access to them, then hurried into the bedroom to get himself ready.

Sara’s key jiggled in the lock, a second later she opened the door to the apartment and walked in. As she hung up her jacket she felt those oh so familiar arms wrap around her waist, and those soft lips she loved so much gently kiss the back of her neck. She felt something else too though, something slick touching the top of the back of her legs. Sara turned around to find Jake wearing nothing but a pair of black, tight, plastic briefs, and a big grin on his face.

“Got something planned hmmmmmm?” Sara asked with an inquisited look on her face.

“You bet I do!” Jake quickly responded. “I know our anniversay was yesterday, and you said it was okay that we didn’t do anything, but it’s really not. I wanna celebrate our love for one another… and have some fun doing it too.”

Sara looked at Jake with a smile spreading across her face, “wanna help me with my zipper? I know you already have my outfit waiting”

Jake let out a little chuckle, then *very slowly helped Sara take off her clothing, and even got in a few gropes as they headed back to the bedroom to put her outfit on. Jake dressed her in a white plastic tunic top and clear plastic panties. They stood in the bedroom for a bit, hugging and kissing. Letting their plastic outfits rustle against one another. Jake finally pulled away from the kiss and took Sara’s hand in his, then lead her out to the dinning room.

Sara lay on the plastic covered dinning room table, waiting for Jake to return from the kitchen. Jake finally appeared in the entry way to the room, holding a very large bowl. “So, is there a theme to this night?” Sara asked.

“Well, most couples share some kind of cake or dessert for their anniversary, so I figured we could just make each other into some instead” Jake grinned as he replyed back to her. “Oh goodie, does this mean I get to get you back good?” Sara asked with a gleam in her eye.

“Yup” Jake answered with a smile. “I got enough stuff for you to have your way with me.”

Sara giggled at that, but her giggling turned into a gasp when Jake poured the contents of his bowel, the french vanilla cake mix, down her tunic. Slowly he spread it around her chest and stomach with his hands on top of the plastic. Sara closed her eyes and just consitrated on the goo running over her erect nipples, and slidding down her back. She just laid there, eyes still closed, for a while, until she realized Jake was gone. She opened her eyes again to see him re-entering the room, carring 3 containers of frosting. He placed them on the table and opened each one. Then grinned down at Sara before he placed a hand in one jar and scooped out almost all of its contents. Slowly, mathotically, he spread it across the white plastic covering her chest, gentely playing with her nipples through the plastic. While scooping up another handful of frosting, Jake leaned in and softly kissed Sara then before their lips parted, he smeared the contents of his hand all over her plastic clad crotch. Sara broke the kiss, letting out a moan as she did so. Jake moved down her body more and carefully finished spreading the frosting on, till she had a nice layer covering all of the plastic. Then giving her a quick kiss, Jake said he would be right back.

When he returned both his hands were behind his back. He leaned down and placed something on the ground, but Sara coun’t see what. When he stood back up, she could very clearly see the whip cream can in his hand. He popped the top, and slowly spelled out “Happy Anniversary” on top of the frosting. When he was done he smiled big, leaned in and kisssed Sara very passionately. When their lips finally parted he whispered to her “Happy Anniversary Sara, I love you” and then grabbed his camera and stood up to take a picture.

“Oh I knew you couldn’t resist” Sara laughed.

“You know it.” Jake replied. But after taking only one picture he put the camera down. “Wait, somethings missing.”

“What?” Sara asked with a puzzled look on her face.

At that Jake leaned down and picked up the object he had placed on the floor earlier. Sara got just a glimps of the chocolate cream pie before Jake smeared it into her face, and very slowly removed the tin. Carefully, Sara cleaned off her eyes and mouth, then a big grin spread across her face and all she said was “Cheese!!” at that Jake clicked off a few more pictures, then helped Sara off the table… it was her turn now.

Part 2

Jake laid impatiently on the kitchen table, blindfolded. Sara had covered his eyes with a scarf to keep him in a bit more suspence since he already knew the supplies she had to work with. He heard her squishy footsteps approach from the kitchen. Next thing he knew he could feel the coolness of the brownie batter flowing into his briefs. Slowly inching its way down around his erect member. Sara smiled at the low moans that were coming from Jakes mouth as she finished pouring. She smiled big at her work, and trotted off to the kitchen for more supplies. When she came back into the room, Jake was still squirming on the table, brownie batter ozzing out of the plastic briefs. She popped open the three containers of chocolate frosting, and scooped out all the contents onto his chest. Then, with both hands, she *very slowly spread it all over. Carressing and massaging his chest as she did so. Tracing over his nipples with her chocolate covered fingers, sliding her palms down across his belly button. Turning his chest into a layer of milk chocolate frosting.

Jake heard the lid to the other bottle of whip cream being popped off, as Sara slowly started writing with it on his chest.

“It was our anniversary Jake.” She said to him. “So I want everyone to know your mine.” Right after Jake stopped hearing the can spraying, he heard the click of the polaroid camera they had… then felt Sara’s soft lips press to his and he eagerly contributed to a deep, passionate kiss. When she parted from his lips, she removed his blindfold and handed him the polaroid. He could see what she had written on his chest, and laughed as he read the word “Taken! Boy Toy! Sara’s Sex Slave!” And the writing on his crotch read “Sara’s binki” A huge smile spread across Jake’s mouth when he saw that, he looked up and saw Sara smiling too. He only got a to see her beautiful smile for a second though, before Sara planted one of the pies into Jake’s face and rubbed it in before removing the tin. He waited a few seconds before cleaning off his eyes and mouth. When he was done he opened his eyes just in time to see Sara disapear into the kitchen again.

Sara turned around from the fridge with one of the last 2 pies in her hand, and found Jake standing right behind her. “Got plans for that?” He asked as he placed a finger in it and sucked the contents off.

“Ya I do, I was gonna smear this one all over your head, unless you have a better idea.” Sara grinned at him.

“Actually, I do.” Jake replyed and took the pie in Sara’s hand, and the other one from the fridge, and placed them on the counter. Then he placed both of his hands on the neck of Sara’s tunic, and with one quick motion, riped it from her body. Before she even had a chance to say anything, Jake had her pressed to him, lips locked to one another. Just as Sara got really into it though, he pulled away.

“All the frosting was on the plastic.” He said. “Now that its gone, your chest needs something more.” At that he picked up both of the pies, and with a huge grin planted both onto her chest, rubbing them in. After throwing the tins to the side, he laid Sara onto the kitchen floor and stradled her as he slowly rubbed the pie contents around a bit. Sara moaned as he massaged her chest with his hands. The coolness of the pies caused her nipples to get errect quickly, and upon feeling them Jake leaned down and began to suck softly on her right breast. After cleaning that one off, he moved over to her left. Then slowly up her neck to her lips where they engaged in another passionate kiss. By now both were quite turned on, so when the kiss broke this time, both knew what the reason was for. Sara leaned down and ripped Jake’s briefs on. Quickly, she went to work on licking all the brownie batter off of his hard member. When she was done, slowly, she licked her way back up to his lips and softly kissed him. Now it was Jakes turn. He made fast work of her panties in the same maner the he had done her tunic. And in a minute his tongue had her crotch pretty well clear of the vanilla cake mix. He looked up at Sara, her wanting eyes were all the sign he needed. Jake slide back up her body, wrapped his arms around her, and slid himself inside. Both let out moans in unison, and made passionate love there on the kitchen floor, coming together. Slowly, Jake slid off of Sara’s body, and lay next to her cuddling.

Sara rolled over and softly kissed Jake, then looked deep into his eyes. “I love you”

“I love you too.” Jake replyed smiling at her. “Happy anniversay darling.”

Sara smiled back “This was a great makeup hon. But what are you gonna do if you miss another anniversary?”

“Well, guess I’ll just have to think of something better then this to make up for that then.” Jake said.

“Hmmmm… I’ll decide in the shower if you forgetting our anniversary is really a bad thing.” Sara giggled. Then she took Jake’s hand and they walked off to the bathroom, the gunge that had dripped its way down to their feet squishing on the plastic as they went.

The End

Leaving Day Present, by Oliver

Leaving Day Present ===================

Samantha had worked at the same office for well over three years and decided that it was time for a change. Thoughts of her leaving day and well deserved break before starting her new job filled her mind. She was a pretty girl, standing about 5′ 5″ tall with a neatly cut long, blonde bob and piercing blue eyes. Although her face was rounded she was none the less attractive and always made the boys heads turn when she wore her favourite short skirts. On her leaving day Samantha was smartly dressed in a ribbed, white bodysuit which did nothing to hide her ample chest and lacy white bra beneath, a way-above the knee, wrap-around lime green skirt and matching jacket. Her lovely long tanned legs were set off rather nicely by a sytlish pair of black suede high heels. Much to Samantha’s disgust she had heard rumours about what happened when people left the company. Apparentlty one girl had a bucket of custard tipped over her and another had been assulted with a rather large cheesecake! The thought of this made poor Samantha quivver all over…

Come late afternoon everyone in the office had gathered around Samantha’s desk in order to give her a really big send off. After all she was a very popular girl. However, her boss, a rather plump middle aged woman called Linda, asked if everyone would like to step outside the building to watch her recieve her leaving present. Poor Samantha feared the worst…

It was a warm summer’s day outside so she felt rather comfortable just standing their in the cool breeze. Her worse fears, however, were confirmed when Sarah, one of the typists, walked from the building carrying what looked like a huge white cake. As Sarah approached Samantha became aware of the fact that it was not a cake, but indeed layer uopn layer of thick oozey white icing. Samantha shivvered with anticipation of what might happen to her. The cardboard plate that the huge cake sat upon must have been about 10 inches in diameter and maybe topped with cream filling a foot deep. Suddenly Linda spoke…

“Well we’d all like to thank you for all of the effort you have put in over the last three years Samantha, as as a token of our gratitude we love to present you with this lovely whipped cream pie”

Much to her amazement she was mearly handed the pie by Sarah.

“Why don’t you have a carefully look at it”, quipped Linda.

With that Samantha peered right in close to the surface of the pie. In tiny letter the following words were etched in icing.

“Ha! Ha! Got you!”

Without any warning Sam felt a hand raise the pie’s dish and before she could even screw up her little button nose the pie made contact with her face. Due to the depth of the pie it felt like an eterntiy before the thick cream stopped squeezing all over her face and hair.


She gasped as the sweet, sticky filling mashed and oozed all over her pretty face and shuddered as a huge lump of soft cream broke away from the mass of goo covering her face and plopped silently over her chest and deep womanly cleavage. Just for good measure the person pieing poor Sam began to rub the pie dish, first all around her face and then over her shiney blonde locks. By the time the dish had lost it’s adhesion pretty Samantha’s head was nothing more than a creamy wasteland of fluffy, white pie filling. Very softly and femininely she raised her fingers to her face and gently wiped the cream from her eyes. All she could see was a lot of blurred collegues laughing at her. Poor Samantha turned bright red, but this was not really evident beneath her white creamy face pack. She felt humiliated, but the fun was far from over…

It just so happened that the company she was leaving made cosmetics and soap. One bright spark in the warehouse struck upon the idea of using one of the huge plastic container to gunge her with! But, with what? Evetually it was decided that the contained was to be filled with 5 gallons of very thick, green shampoo! After the vesel was filled it was placed next to the slightly weary looking Samantha. Linda piped up again.

“Sorry about that Samantha, what say we give you a nice hair wash to get all of that pie out?”

Samantha, screamed with shock as suddenly a huge bucket of freezing water was hurled mercilessly at her. It managed to drench her tight bodysuit and skirt, but did little to clean her cream face and blonde locks. Poor Samantha was beginning to wish she’d choosen a darker colour bra and top than white as her busty outline began to push through the sodden tight material.

“No, it’s not working!”, sighed Linda “We’ll have to use the shampoo!”

The whole of the office staff went deadly quite as two of the warehouse men picked up the heavy looking container full of stiff green goo and began to raise it just above her head.

“Ready for your hairwash?”, laughted Linda

Poor Samamtha let out a tiny little squeal as the cold, gooey liquid started to poor thickly all over her head. With her eyes and mouth tightly shut her whole head very rapidly began to become emerced in the flowing wave of green ooze. It wasn’t long before the shampoo had found a natural path down Samantha’s once beautiful blonde locks and then over her shoulders. If she had fears about the bucket of water exposing her breasts through her tight top and white bra, then she’d have been twice as shocked to see what her male collegues were feasting their eyes on. The slippery shampoo was now starting to engulf her bodysuit, thickly rolling down the outline of her ample chest. The clingy white bodice and bra was now nearly transparent.

Eventually the flow of cold gooey liquid above her ceased and Samantha slowly reached up with her hands to slick back her long blonde hair. Again she wiped the goo from her eyes with her fingers and peered out to see people laughing and pointing at her. What was even worse was the fact that although her gunging had finished the flow of shampoo running down her body was beginning to engulf her short skirt. Samantha wiggled her legs slightly in order to shake some off, but her lovely lime green skirt was stuck fast to her thighs and bottom. Resinging her self to the slippery mess she just remained still as the runny goo effortlessly made it path down her shapley legs, forming a large puddle of green liquid around her shoes.

“Are you OK?”, asked Linda quietly.

“I don’t know…”, sobbed poor Samantha looking up mornfully. “How am I ever going to get cleaned up?”

“Don’t worry!”, replied Linda. “It’ll all wash out and we have some spare clothes for you to change into afterwards.

Samantha now felt a little better about her leaving present, but was still fearful about what was next to come.

“So, what happens next?”, she equired

“We have to show you off to everyone. It would be a shame for everyone to miss the fun!”, smiled Linda.

Samantha felt a little confused at this, but all became clear as one of the warehouse men approached her pushing a large wheelbarrow. To her shock it was filled to the brim with even more green, mushy liquid soap.

“Climb in!”, ordered Linda

Very slowly Samantha lowered her lovely little bottom towards the soft, green mess and pushed it firmly down. Steadying herself she grabbed hold of the side of the barrow and got herself as comfy as possible. All of the time she could feel the wet liquid soap squeezing around her legs and skirt. Quite a lot of it oozed past her fingers as displacement forced a great wave of the stuff down the sides of the barrow. Eventually, after a bit of squirming about she was ready.

How everyone cheered as she was wheeled around the office complex squeling and kicking her legs with embarrassment. Many of the people there couldn’t believe what they were seeing. A smartly dressed office girl completely smeared in pie and soap having the ride of her life. By the time Samantha climbed out of the barrow the back and bottom of her outfit was just a wash with the soft, green liquid.

What a day it had been!

Lauri’s Further Adventures, by Lauri Pi

At the crack of dawn Sunday, Debra woke me up with a pitcher of ice cold tea which she poured all over me. The bed has a rubber sheet on the bottom so I was left lying in a puddle of cold water. I rolled over and got completely soaked getting up. As I stood in front of her she took a big blob of marshmellow and stuffed it in my bra and massaged my boobs until it spread.

After breakfast we went to the super market for groceries and some “other stuff.” We bought Karo Syrup, bannanas from the bargain rack, soft and gooey. Also pudding and yougert. On the way out she stopped and bought two huge cream pies (12″ by about 8″) and had them bagged seperatly. I asked her what they were for because we have a whole bunch at home.

“None of your business,” She answered. “You will find out soon enough.” I did.

As we went to our car Debra stopped me and said, “Drop em!” I was mortified, but did as I was told even though I was beet red and ashamed. However it was exciting even though I was terribly embarressed. She took one of the pies, aluminum plate and all and pushed it down my panties and I had to drive home. It felt so good and I now know why I love Debra so.

When we got home we cleaned and than went for a walk in the park and I still had the pie in my panties. Every once in a while a piece would fall down my leg and soon I had a convoy of dogs following us. After the walk we went home and had lunch, which consisted of pasta and sauce and baked beans and brown bread, which as you can guess is on me and in my bra, panties, stockings and shoes.

After lunch Debra announced that I was to have the beautiful cream pie for dessert.

“Oh wow,” I said, “when can I have it?”

“Right now,” was the answer. She ordered me to my knees and placed the pie on the floor in front of me but just out of reach. “There you are, sweetheart,” she said and added, “you must not move forward and place your hands behind your back”. I did so and she quickly put handcuffs on my wrists. As I stretched to get at the pie I lost my balance, she put it just out of reach, and went face first into the pie. I struggled to get up but she said I had to finish it before she would unshackle me. I struggled with the pie and even got my hair a mess as I rolled around trying to finish it.

After dessert I was allowed to clean up and change my clothes. Later on in the day some of Debby’s friends came over for a card game. I was told to dress nicely so that the friends wouldn’t be insulted. So I wore a dress suit with a V-necked blouse and stockings, garter belt and lovely black shoes. As I was to serve the ladies sat down and played and I rushed around taking there orders. Soon I spilled a little of a drink on one of the ladies and Debby took me over to the sideboard where the pies were and told me, “Don’t you spill another drop!!!” Then she took one of the pies and put it down my blouse and boobs. I went back to serving and soon some pie fell on another of the ladies and I received another pie. The messier I got the more I soiled the guests the more pies I got. Soon the pies were gone and we finished the Afternoon with choclate syrup and carmel topping. As the afternoon ended I was deleriously happy and had a wonderful Sunday.

LauRI’s Messy Day, by Lauri Pi

This morning my friend Debra came over to help with housecleaning. She is very industrious and set right to work. Soon she found five over-ripe bananas, all black and soft. She went to her car and brought back a diaper and made me put it on and said, “You must wear this until I come back tomorrow. Maybe in the AM but maybe not till night time.” Then she stuffed the bananas in the diaper and made me sit on the chair.

After we mopped the floor and dusted she decided to cook. Soon we had pasta, tomato sauce and were working on dessert. I asked what kind of dessert and she told me to mind my own business and to kneel. She put pasta and sauce down the front of my panties and then realising what she had done, quickly took most out, put it in the bowl and fed me lunch. As I ate my lunch she mixed up batter for a cake and poured it into the baking dish.

She had a lot left over and when I made fun of her about it she poured the rest over my head, ruining my hair do and dripping down inside my dress and around my boobs. “There, that will teach you,” she said. “Any more of that and I’ll really get you.”

Unfortunatly it is raining today and she had me take out the garbage and as I walked down the back path and fell headlong into the muddy path. From head to foot I was mud. Debra took me inside and gave me a new set of clothes including lingerie (bra, bloomers, and slip) that were too tight for me. She insisted I wear them; I struggled to put them on. The panties squished the bananas in my diaper and she put more sauce down the front.

Wow, I am a mess, but really excited. She has gone to get some cream pies and promisises a real tough time tomorrow whenever she gets here. Until then, LauriPi

Kerry Cross-Dressed, by By Kerry Samson

This story is about a session I made today in a girls’ school uniform. If this freaks you out, I apologise; read on and I’ll explain.

First of all, I am not a transvestite. I have never attempted to pass for, or feel like, a girl; I have never worn full underwear and make-up, and don’t wear a wig; I’m only interested in the feel of the clothes, and how they react to getting wet and messy; it makes women in WAM situations, like the ones I draw and write about, easier to visualise realistically if I’ve experienced the clothing first hand. Some cross-dressers create a female alter ego for when they dress up; while there is some of my personality in most of my characters (Sandra is the closest I have to a female alter ego) I have never attempted to become any of them. I am totally comfortable with my sexuality.

In various chat-rooms I discovered I was not the only male wammer to have tried such experiments; I’ve spoken to a lot of others who have done so, but who are shy in admitting it until they realise there are many others, and that it doesn’t mean they’re gay (I started experimenting as an adolescent because I was starting to harbour fantasies about some of the girls at school, and experiencing their clothing made the fantasies better..). I personally was extremely shy about it myself until I spoke to Tarisha Jay (see Links page) and a few others. Since then I’ve met many more who are in the closet about it, but who are glad of the chance to discuss it once they know they aren’t alone.

It’s from speaking to these people, and from the development of my WAM artwork and stories (there were some ideas I wanted to try before writing or drawing), that I decided to do another cross-dressed session. I hadn’t done so in some time, mainly due to the difficulty of obtaining the clothes. My last cross-dressed session was last summer, whilst visiting my parents, in clothes borrowed from the attic; the Cleaning Spree story on my website is based on that session.

I decided on a school uniform for two reasons; firstly, as you may have noticed from this site, I’ve a particular fondness for wet school uniforms; it was my favourite WAM costume as a teen, and a focus for my c/dressing experiments at the time (see WAM Secrecy). Secondly, it’s an easier outfit to go and buy, as it happens to be a popular fancy dress costume, especially in a student dominated area like where I live.

I spent an afternoon going round charity shops; in each, I sheepishly told the lady behind the counter that I needed a girl’s school uniform for a party. Of course, they thought the sight of this obviously embarrassed man shopping for female attire hilarious and were really keen to help, even going out to the back to see if anything suitable had just come in. At first, I was really embarrassed, but that was OK, it fitted the story. As I went round more shops, my confidence grew, and I started joking about it.

As valentine’s day was approaching, several students were out shopping for crazy clothes for various parties, so my shopping for a girls’ uniform wasn’t out of place. I ended up meeting the same groups of people around the shops, including a group of girls who I’d first met when I was trying some skirts; they were looking for loud, bad taste outfits for their party. The assistant asked why no-one ever dressed pretty for parties anymore. “Hey, I’m dressing pretty,” I said.

From various shops, I finally assembled the following; a calf length grey skirt; a pair of black tights; a navy and light blue striped school tie and a navy jumper, with a logo on the chest. I decided to wear one of my own shirts rather than get a blouse, and was unfortunately unable to find a suitable pair of shoes in my size, but by now I had what I’d come for.

I tried everything on at home; the loose calf length skirt felt great dry, and I was to find it felt even better wet. It was made of knitted acrylic, with a nylon lining that felt great against the legs, and made wearing tights with it totally unnecessary. I matched it with the navy jumper, blue tie and one of my own white shirts. The uniform looked and felt great, and I couldn’t wait to gunge it. I had to hand a few cans of shaving foam and a bottle of green foam bath, but decided it would be so much better to save the outfit for a much bigger, more special wamming.

The next morning I had some things to sort out in town; all the time I was looking forward to the gunging that awaited when I made it home. I stopped by at the supermarket and bought a carton of custard, three cans of cream of tomato soup, and a bottle of lemonade. I headed home to get started.

I changed into the school uniform, opened the cans and took everything into the bathroom. I filled the bottom of the bath with shaving foam and foam bath, leaving it ankle deep in green slime. I sat down in the bath; the gunge wrapped around my ankles and bottom, and I could feel it as a soft, slimy layer beneath my skirt. I took the carton of custard and poured it carefully over my head, letting it run down my face, around my shoulders and feeling it slop down my front into my lap. Some went in my mouth; it tasted sweet and creamy. Ready-made custard has now joined shaving foam on my list of essential WAM substances; this felt great.

I poured the tomato soup over my head and shoulders and stood up to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. Some of the cold soup mixed with the custard and went into my mouth – surprisingly enough they didn’t taste too bad together. I loved the sight in the mirror; there was a cascade of yellow and red from my head and shoulders, running down my jumper, in lines down the skirt and dripping with loud splotts into the green slime in the bath. I spread the custard and soup more evenly around my jumper, took the two-litre bottle of lemonade and sat back down. Now there may be some messy purists wondering about my use of lemonade; you may think it would just wash me off, get me too clean. Read on…

As I opened the bottle, I was slightly disappointed that it didn’t fizz up out of the bottle; maybe I should have shaken it up some more. But when I poured it all over, I loved the fizzy feeling of it hitting my body and clothing, the way it finally soaked the uniform through to the skin, and in particular the way it mixed with the creamy custard, shaving foam and soup to make a reddish brown, frothy, creamy liquid gunge in the bath. This turned out to be the best gunge I’ve made; smooth, slimy, viscous, sweet smelling and looks fantastic on clothing. The skirt was soaking up the gunge brilliantly, with a lot trapped between the skirt and the lining, so a single wring would bring loads of slime frothing back down into the bath.

I played in the mixture for some time; I’ll have to remember that recipe… shaving foam, foam bath, ready made custard, cream of tomato soup and the final, secret ingredient that brought it all together; lemonade. By this time, the bath was very messy, and I was ready to move on. So I turned on the taps and topped up the bath with warm water, ending with a bath of gooey red liquid topped with a light green creamy, foamy residue.

I spent some time trying different things, checking the reaction of the different parts of the uniform to the water, observing the way the skirt billowed as I sat down or slid into the water, and how easily came back up out of the water when I got out. While I had worn skirts in the bath before as a teenager, it was great to remind myself of the way they behave in water, which I can work into future stories and artwork.

Finally I pulled the plug and let the water drain away around by body, feeling it pulling down on my skirt and jumper as it went. I got up, releasing the last of the liquid trapped under my back and shoulders, and pulled round the shower curtain. If you’ve ever tried clothed showers and baths before, you’ll know that they are two very different experiences, with different feelings and effects according to the outfit. In this case, the school uniform felt tremendous under the shower, as I washed the gunge out of my hair, rinsed out my jumper, shirt and tie, completely soaking it with warm water, took the shower from the holder and trained it on my skirt. Having thoroughly rinsed the skirt, I lifted the hem and rinsed around the lining.

When I finally switched the shower off, the warm, saturated uniform felt fantastic; I stood there for some time, savouring the feeling, not wanting to take off the wet clothes and end the experience. In the end I wrung out the excess water from the skirt and just kept the wet clothes on as I cleaned up the bathroom and threw out the empty cans, stepping back into the bath every now and then to wring off more excess water that was dripping to the floor.

The tidy up complete, I went into my room. Hell, I still didn’t want to take the wet clothes off yet; while the water had cooled, my body heat was warming the damp clothes, and with the heater on, I wasn’t feeling too cold, so I decided to keep the wet uniform on for a few hours; I’m still wearing it now as I write this account, plastic bags on the computer chair and on the floor to catch any dripping and a towel to hand to keep my hands dry for typing. And the feeling of the damp clothes, warmed by my body heat and drying whilst wearing them is a brilliant end to a memorable session.

Occupational Hazard

Occupational Hazard

Today was the big day. Vickie had taken this job just for the reason of being able to leave the position. While that is probably true of many people, Vickie had a different reasoning behind her desire.

Vickie worked second shift at the Big Town Market bakery department. She knew of the tradition that the bakery had of giving a person their “Just Desserts” on their last day on the job, even though she had never openly admitted it. She had overheard the stories as a young girl, and it was this knowledge that had secretly pushed Vickie to apply for the job. Throughout her life she had always felt a special “tingling” inside whenever she would see any classic slapstick on tv where some lovely lady, dressed up in a beautiful gown, would walk into a room and be met face first with some creamy pastry. She had tried to recreate this by using the suds from her bubble bath, but knew it didn’t have the same impact.

So Vickie got dressed for her final day, nearly shaking with anticipation. She had thought about this day many times, trying to imagine how she should react to make it seem like a surprise, how her co-workers would go about the task of humiliating her. Should she open her mouth in a big “O” of shock, or deliver a tight lipped whine of disgust. Would they cover her up in a rain poncho and shower cap and only mess up her face a little, or would they strip her down to her bra and panties and totally blanket her body.

Well only time would tell, so she put on her favorite black bra and panties to be covered by her uniform of a white top and dark blue pants. The pants were a size or two too small, but the tight look worked well for her. She carried her paper hat that would be used to keep her strawberry blonde hair from getting in the food in a duffle bag with her street clothes hat she would need to wear home. The uniform would have to be turned in at the end of the shift. She looked at herself in the mirror hoping the next time she saw herself in the mirror she would be admiring her 5’5″ 110lb body, that was kept well firmed by her skating training, covered in confections.

If the other two bakery workers were planning anything, they hid it very well. Vickie saw no signs of it on their faces or in their mannerisms. She even attempted to push them a little by saying things like “Gee Olivia, I sure will miss you guys when I’m back at college” and “Hey Wendy, what does the store give you as a going away gift after only 4 months of service?”, but still no hints. She half expected something during her dinner break, but was disappointed again. The bakery dept. closed at 10pm, even though the store didn’t close until 11, to give the staff time to clean up and get things ready for the morning shift. She had pretty well given up hope, and was thinking of ways of taking home a couple of leftovers, when her dreams came true.

Olivia handed her a couple of empty trays into the back to wash off, and after passing through the swinging doors and placing them on the counter she heard Wendy say “Wait, here’s another one”. Vickie turned, and was greeted with a sticky sweet darkness. She had been hit with a simple white cake, that was covered with at least four inches of pink cherry frosting. Wendy had pushed the cake in her face, and then tactfully twisted it and removed the cardboard to uncover Vickie’s face, fully covered with one big swirl of frosting.

It took Vickie two full attempts to pull enough frosting from her eyes with her fingertips to be able to see again. Just in time to see Olivia standing next to her holding a huge Meringue pie, and saying “Hair today, gone tomorrow” and with that Olivia removed Vickie’s paper hat and smashed the pie on top of her head. Wendy came back over with both hands full saying “You know, I just can’t decide what to give you as a going away gift, Lemon Chiffon or Banana Cream. Oh what the heck, have ’em both” and plopped both pies into the side of Vickie’s head like cymbals, engulfing her head with cream and pudding with the thick crusts clutching to her cheeks.

Vickie was no longer wondering what else was happening on the outside of her pastry prison, because inside she was feeling “Special” all over. She wondered at first if one of them had sprayed water on the front of her pants, but after wiping her hand past there, she realized that she was only moist on the inside of her panties. The onslaught continued; Olivia said “Here’s a pearl necklace for ya” and then the spritzing sound of a whipped cream can was heard while a thick bead of cream was placed around her neck. Wendy returned with the two largest eclairs they had ever made, pulled Vickie’s pants out enough to lodge them in front and then placed her right arm around Vickie’s back and her left arm against the eclairs and said “you look like you need a hug” and with that, squeezed the thick custard down her pants. One last treat for you” Olivia said as she walked over with a large plastic bowl of Chocolate Mousse Pudding. Wendy unbuttoned the top two buttons on Vickie’s shirt and Olivia, with one strong shake, freed the contents onto her breasts and then Wendy rebuttoned the shirt back up and patted the mousse down.

The party was over, much to Vickie’s displeasure. She could have stood there all night having pies and cakes tossed onto her. She took a look at her attackers, and noticed that they didn’t come out unscathed themselves. Olivia had a large white blob of cream hanging from her forehead down the side of her face, which was a sharp contrast from the flawless dark skin Olivia possessed. She figured that it must have been some shrapnel from the pie sandwich. Wendy had also unwittingly wiped a fair amount of the chocolate mousse into the sides of her blonde hair, and had spots of whipped cream dotted all around her face.

They laughed along with Vickie for a while and were amazed over how good natured she was in allowing them to do all this to her without her getting angry. They then sent her on her way to the staff bathroom to clean up and go home. Vickie closed herself in and found that the ladies had left a half dozen large towels out for her and had her duffle bag already inside. They really had planned ahead for all this. Vickie took her shirt off and dropped it into a plastic bag in the corner of the room. She noticed how the mousse had clung thickly to her front and totally filled her cleavage. Then she pulled her pants off and tossed them into the bag. Her panties and thighs were coated with the custard, and she could no longer tell if her panties were stickier on the inside or on the outside. She removed her panties and took off her bra to free herself of the messy clothes.

She stood back and admired herself in the mirror, her hair fully clotted with meringue, and her face layered with pudding and cream leading to the thick underlayer of pink frosting which she now wore like a mask, a thick ring of cream surrounding her neck, chocolate spread all over her firm breasts and stomach, and the spray of custard oozing down the front o her legs. It was better than should could ever have dreamed, and she wondered if there was any way that she could do this for a career.