Lisa arrived at the supermarket for the evening shift as she did every evening, at five. The short, buxom blonde, her wavy blonde hair cut in a bob, made her way past the checkouts, smiling at one or two of her friends, ignoring the lustful glances of the trolley boys. She was wearing her favourite outfit, a tight designer T-shirt and figure-hugging designer jeans. She liked to dress well - not always easy on a check - out girls' wage. She came to the end of the checkouts, and made her way through the door that lead to the staff only area, which consisted of the locker rooms, the cashier's office, the canteen and the storeroom. She entered the female changing room, which as usual at this time of day was crowded with women finishing the day shift and starting on the evening one. Lisa was running a little late, and most of the girls on the evening shift were already changed into the passion-killing brown skirt, beige blouse and orange jacket that was the supermarket's uniform. They stood around chatting to their friends, killing time before they had to go onto the shop floor. Lisa was slipped out of her jeans and t-shirt. Her figure was certainly on the curvy side, but she wasn't fat. The buzzer signalling the change of shift sounded, and the others drifted away, leaving Lisa struggling into her uniform. Shit! She was going to be late at the checkout again, and she definitely didn't want another bollocking from the manager. Hastily she crammed her day clothes into the locker, slammed it and ran out of the changing room. She was dashing down the corridor towards the stairs, when she remembered that she hadn't said hello to her friend Jill, who worked in the cashier's office. She would just stick her head round the door, which was on the way to the stairs. "Hi Jill, can't stop, just saying-" she breathlessly panted into the office. She stopped mid-sentence however, realising the office was empty. She turned to hurry on, but she caught something out of the corner of her eye. On the desk. Cash. A substantial pile of notes. The cashier must have popped to the loo, she realised. A thousand thoughts flashed through her mind in one second. If she waited any longer, the moment would be gone forever. She darted into the office and helped herself to some high denomination notes, but not so many as would be quickly noticed. There was thousands on the table, and she scooped up what she figured would be about five hundred. Stuffing the notes in her knickers, she fled out of the office and down the stairs. "Late again, Lisa?" sneered Mr Alcock, the manager of her shift, who Lisa ran into as she hurtled out of the door onto the shop floor. "Yes Mr Alcock sorry Mr Alcock won't happen again Mr Alcock" she blurted, hoping that her flushed cheeks would be put down to having hurried rather than elation at her ill gotten gains. "It's going to be an hour's wages docked this time, I'm afraid" "Fair enough Mr Alcock", said Lisa, although thinking, "pompous prick!" That evening's shift dragged as it never had before. Lisa's mind was racing with thoughts of the new clothes she was going to buy with the money, the evenings she was going to have. Guilt never entered her head. "Fuck it" she thought, "I've slaved away in this bloody supermarket on slave wages for years; they owe me a new outfit and a couple of pairs of shoes!" At the end of her shift, she changed back into her casual clothes, and in the loo she fished the notes out of her underwear and stuffed them in her pocket. Saying goodnight to her friends, she had to fight the urge to run out of the shop singing for joy at her good luck. She quickened her pace on leaving the supermarket, and walked briskly back to her flat, not daring to count her loot until she was safely inside. Inside the flat, she drew the curtains and emptied the crumpled notes on to the table. Six hundred and twenty five quid! Almost a month's take-home, for a second's work. She poured herself a large glass of wine, kicked off her shoes and slumped back in her armchair, scarcely able to take it all in. The money was already burning a hole in her pocket, and she could hardly wait to get to the high street and in to the clothes shops. Rising early the next day, she put two hundred pounds in her purse, and hid the rest in her undies drawer. The morning and most of the afternoon passed in a joyous whirl of consumer indulgence, as Lisa tried on things with a price tag normally beyond her reach, and more often than not buying them. She returned home at around 3, and after an hour or so of modelling her new purchases, she set off for work. She had of course realised that the money would be missed sooner or later, but when she climbed the stairs and saw the policeman waiting outside the cashier's office, terror washed over her like an icy wave. She walked past the office, and glancing in, saw another policeman, the head cashier, Mr Alcock and Jill all looking extremely serious. She managed to control her shaking until she was in the changing room. The place was a commotion. "Six hundred quid!" "Broad daylight!" "It's got to be Jill!" Wild theories were flying thick and fast. Lisa suddenly felt a huge weight of guilt sink on to her. Jill was her best friend at the supermarket - and she was about to take the rap for Lisa's crime. Lisa caught the voice of Pauline, one of the older women, above the general din. "What I can't understand is why the security cameras weren't set. They'd have got Ôem that way. Makes me think it was in inside job." Fucking hell! Security cameras! Why had it never occurred to her? But what an incredible stroke of luck! The guards must have forgotten to set the cameras, or change the tape or something. She was convinced no one had seen her go in to the office, so now there was nothing linking her to the missing money. Silently, she changed into her uniform and made her way along the corridor past the cashiers' office. This time she was unable to look in, and hung her head as she passed by the policeman. The evening on the checkout passed as if in some nightmare. All the while she was tortured by the fear of being caught, the likely penalty, the humiliation, the loss of her job-she was at a complete loss to know what to do. If she stayed quiet, maybe Jill would take the blame, whereas if she owned up-was prison really out of the question? How stupid she had been! The next week went by as if Lisa was on some stupefying drug. She didn't go out, she couldn't sleep, she hardly spoke to anyone. It seemed as though the police were going to press charges against Jill; the thought tortured Lisa, although she was quite unable to bring herself to face the music. The week after, however, she had resolved to put it behind her, and some semblance of normality returned. The Friday of that week, she even went out with some girlfriends, and allowed some boys to flirt with her. Saturday morning, Lisa awoke feeling better than she had done for weeks (apart from her hangover). She had almost forgotten about the incident at work - the money was nearly gone - and the police weren't going to press charges against Jill, although she had lost her job. Time to move on, she thought, as she slipped on her dressing gown and walked to the front door to collect the post. In addition to all the usual bills, there was a large Jiffy bag addressed to Lisa. Wandering into the kitchen, she put the kettle on and opened it. There was a video cassette, and a folded note. The only words on it were "FROM SIMPLE SIMON. I'LL BE IN TOUCH" What the fuck? Thought Lisa. She didn't know anyone called Simon, and she didn't remember borrowing anyone's video tape. Puzzled, she walked into the living room and put the tape in the VCR. After a few seconds of snow, the picture cleared and appeared to show some sort of office, in black and white. There was a table with papers of some sort on it. After about a minute, a woman burst into the office, grabbed a handful of the papers and stuck them in her underwear. As she turned to leave, her face was fully caught on the camera. Lisa had no difficulty in recognising the woman. It was herself. This was the missing security camera tape. Stunned, Lisa sat with her head in her hands for some time. This was insane. Why should anyone be doing this? To conceal evidence of her crime, and then torment her with it? It defied explanation. And who was Simple Simon? Why would he be in touch? Did he want money? She didn't have to wait long to find out. A second Jiffy bag addressed in the same way arrived on Monday. Inside, Lisa found a note which read "SIMON SAYS WEAR THIS" Also, there was something else. It was a pair of shiny black rubber panties. Lisa's stomach turned somersaults. It was a pervert, a stalker! But what could she do? Her choice was to turn herself in, or submit to this madman's will. Drawing a deep breath, she drew the obscene garment up over her shapely hips. Whoever had bought the panties had known her size pretty well. They fitted like a second skin, and were surprisingly comfortable. Admiring herself for a second, she put on the rest of her clothes and set off for work, not knowing what the hell would happen next. The next communication was to come that same day. She had had to change into her uniform in the loos so that the other girls couldn't see her kinky underwear. She sat down at her till, the panties pressing her in all sorts of ways she wasn't used to. She opened her till to give the first customer his change, and was surprised to see a note, folded in half with her name on it. She handed the customer his change, and unfolded the note. "SIMON SAYS GO TO THE STOREROOM AND GET SOME TILL ROLLS FROM THE TOP SHELF. DON'T LOOK ROUND." She closed the till, and called till supervisor over. "I need to get some more rolls for my till, I'm nearly out" she said. "OK, be quick" replied the woman. Lisa walked briskly to the storeroom, which was deserted at this time of day. The till rolls were kept on a high shelf at the back of the room, and she brought the set of steps over to reach them. As she climbed up to get the rolls of paper, she heard footsteps behind her. She froze in terror, realising that this was probably Simple Simon. She felt an unseen hand raise her skirt, and closed her eyes. It was worse than she had feared. Quite soon, however, the hand released her skirt and she heard footsteps walking away. She waited another thirty seconds before descending and walking back to the tills, her heart pounding. Upon returning home that evening, she discovered another package with her name on it on her doormat. It had been delivered by hand, as no stamp was on it. By now, she was so dazed that nothing could surprise her any more. Inside the package were a pair of plain white panties, and a plain white bra. Both were her size. Accompanying them was a note. It read "SIMON IS PLEASED. YOU OBEY. SIMON SAYS WEAR THESE TOMORROW. SIMON SAYS GO TO THE ALCOHOL STORE AFTER YOUR SHIFT FINISHES." It just kept getting worse! Now Lisa was convinced her blackmailer was about to assault her in the supermarket, and there was no one she could tell. The only thing to do was to go through with it - and hope it all ended then. The next day, she awoke and put on Simple Simon's underwear. He did have good taste for a blackmailing pervert, Lisa conceded. The panties were large, expensive, and not particularly revealing, but very comfortable. The bra pressed her ample bosoms together, displaying her cleavage to best advantage. She wondered why Simon had not gone for anything kinkier, as he obviously was in to rubber. The end of that day's shift came round all too soon. She deliberately changed into her street clothes slowly, and was the last person to leave the changing room. Checking the corridor was empty, she discretely stole along it to the door that lead into the warehouse. The alcohol store was a locked enclosure inside the warehouse where the booze and fags were kept - only certain people had keys. Tonight, however, it was unlocked. She pushed open the door, expecting to be leapt on by a frenzied attacker. However, the room was quite empty, aside from the normal crates of produce. It was lit by a single, bare bulb and was altogether a dark, cheerless place. Four large cardboard boxes lay in the centre of the room, next to a bar stool covered with red velvet. Not knowing what else to do, Lisa sat down. After a considerable wait, she started as she heard the Tannoy speaker crackle and a soft voice greeted her. "Good evening, Lisa" it said. "Thank you for responding to my invitation. I realise the manner of it may have been alarming; for that I apologise. Rest assured that you will not be hurt in any way. However, you have been a very naughty girl, and it would be wrong for me to let these crimes go unpunished." "Now, here is the bargain I present to you. For the period of one month, you will unquestioningly obey my instructions. At the end of this period, subject to your satisfactory performance, I will return the video tape to you. These are the terms. Do you accept them-or reject them?" "What will these instructions involve?" stammered Lisa. "I have certain-tastes. These you will help me indulge. More I cannot reveal Ð but you have my word no harm will come to you. Now decide." "I accept the terms" said Lisa, hanging her head. "For one month, I will do what you tell me." "Excellent. We will begin tonight. Simon says remove your clothing, as far as your underwear." Closing her eyes, Lisa began removing her blouse. She heard a faint buzzing, and saw the security camera turning to point towards her. She stood, undid her skirt, and let it fall to the ground. She slipped her shoes off, revealing her dainty, plump size five feet. She stood, in her new underwear, shivering under the bulb. "Good" said the voice. "Very good. You see, Lisa, there's no reason why this should be an ordeal. Now, be so good as to open the first box. Lisa lifted the box, marked with a "1". Inside were a pair of patent leather peep-toe shoes, with heels at least five inches high. "Put them on. Your size" said Simon. Lisa did so. The shoes were so high it felt like she was on tip-toe. She was forced to stick out her butt and tits, teetering around on the outrageous shoes. "Good." Said the voice, "Very nice. Now, open the second box." Bending over, Lisa lifted the flaps of the box. Inside, there was a single family sized tub of blackberry yoghurt. Lisa reached inside and took it out. This weirdo got off on watching girls eat dairy products in their undies? Well, if that was as bad as it got, she had to be thankful for small mercies. She sat on the barstool, and looked into the camera. "Ermm, no spoon," she said. "How d'you want me to eat it?" "Just open it." Said Simon. She peeled the foil top back to reveal the glistening, purple contents. "Now, slowly put your hand in and scoop some out. So the camera can see." "Do fuckin' what?" exclaimed Lisa. "Are you nuts?" "SIMON SAYS SCOOP OUT THE YOGHURT LISA. If you don't obey, you can decide on trying your luck in court. Decide." Lisa swallowed hard, and gingerly pushed her fingers in the creamy liquid. She hated getting her fingers dirty, and the thought of plunging her whole hand into the gook was loathsome. She withdrew a cupped handful, which oozed slightly despite her efforts to contain it. A drop fell on her naked, milk-white thigh. She looked enquiringly into the camera, and began to raise her hand to her mouth to eat it. "Stop," said simon, "Simon didn't say eat the yoghurt. Simon put your hand on your tummy." "NO!" cried Lisa with feeling. "Please, anything but that! I can't stand getting all icky!" She could feel a lump rising in her throat. "Simon says put your hand on your tummy. No more delays, Lisa. Simon has been patient with you." Screwing up her face, Lisa inched her laden hand toward her midriff, and applied the yoghurt. The coolness of it made her gasp. She pressed her hand into her navel, and she could feel the stickiness running down her torso. "Simon says rub it in." Moaning, Lisa obeyed. Her hand traced circles on her abdomen, leaving purple fingermarks over a good part of her curvy body. "Approach the camera, Lisa." She stood, and teetered over towards the camera, her face flushing with shame. "Poor dirty little Lisa," mocked Simon, "all in her nice new undies as well. Look at the camera and give us a smile." Lisa forced a thin smile up at the unseen voyeur. "Now, proceed to box number 3." Lisa's heart sank as she opened the third box. Inside was a 1 litre tetrapak container of Ambrosia Devon creamy custard, with the corner carefully snipped off. She tried to force herself to remain calm; there was only one box to go after this. "Simon says back on the seat." She mounted the velvet stool, and turned to face the camera, holding the carton of custard in front of her, trying to avoid looking at it or the camera. "Now, bring your arms in to press those pretty titties together, like a page three model." Lisa compliantly squeezed her boobs together, enhancing her already ample cleavage. "Simon says lean back." She leant back a little, balancing herself with her legs. "Pour it on." Grimacing, Lisa upended the carton. This time she let out a startled cry as the cold gunge hit her boobs and started to fill her bra and cleavage. She felt her nipples become erect at the chill sensation. Her cry turned into a groan as the custard cascaded out of her bra and down her belly, into her lap. About half the custard had been poured out when the next instruction came. "Simon says stop." She paused, not daring to move. "Put down the carton. Place your hands on your titties." She lowered the carton to the floor, and put one hand on either side of her breasts. "Simon says show them to the camera." She stood, and squeezed her tits at the camera, allowing the custard to squelch out of the ruined bra all over the floor. "Pick up the container in your right hand, and hold the front of your panties open with your left." said Simon, with cold delight. "No-please no-" moaned Lisa softly. "I can't-" "Simon says." Sobbing quietly, Lisa stooped to pick up the carton, and slipped her thumb inside the elastic of the panties. She pulled them a couple of inches away from her belly, and started to poor. The cold, clammy sensation hit her pussy like an electric shock, and she stopped pouring for a second. As she carried on, she felt the custard ooze around the legs of the panties, completely filling her crotch and pouring between her buttocks. She let the elastic snap back. "Simon says pat the front of your panties. Gently." She let her hand fall lightly against the saturated garment, and custard plopped down her thighs and over the top. Alongside the total humiliation, Lisa could feel something else. The now-warm custard was squelching around her most tender place. Lisa was getting turned on. She flushed even more deeply. "Simon says turn around, and put your hands on the stool." She did so, and felt more custard gush out from the back of her panties and course down her inner thighs. Lisa was now so mucky and uncomfortable that she never thought she'd be clean again. She couldn't believe a whole month of this humiliation lay in front of her. Even less could she believe how-aroused she was becoming! She even felt herself wiggle her sticky bum a little at the camera. "Simon's pleased, Lisa. As a reward, open the forth box." She did. She breathed a sigh of relief. Inside was a large jug of warm water, a towel and some clean underwear. She took out the jug, and sluiced herself down over the drain in the centre of the room. She didn't strip until wrapped in the towel Ð she wasn't going to give that pervert the satisfaction! She wriggled into the new underwear still wrapped up. "Simon will be in touch. Goodnight, Lisa." Quickly Lisa dressed, left the liquor store and headed out of the back exit. She had never been so confused. Blackmailed into behaving as a sex object carrying out acts which were utterly repulsive to her she had found herself getting aroused! The next month was going to be hell, she told herself-but secretly she wondered- About a week had gone by when the next package arrived. Bigger than the previous one, it was about the size of a shoebox. She opened it, and inside the first thing that caught her eye was a safety razor and some shaving cream. Also in the box was a black bikini. It looked very insubstantial. There was also a pair of canvas deck shoes. The note said "SIMON SAYS IT'S BIKINI NIGHT IN THE BOOZE STORE TONIGHT. MAKE SURE YOU ARE THOROUGHLY SHAVED." Bikini night? That couldn't be too bad, could it? And it was only reasonable to expect to do your bikini line. She ran herself a deep bath to think it over. Lisa wasn't sure which was worse - before, when she hadn't a clue what would happen, and now, when she knew all too well. The butterflies in her stomach were accompanied by another tingle; one that nerves couldn't wholly explain. She shaved her legs, and her armpits, and was carefully shaving her bikini line when she thought of the note. Thoroughly, it had said. Fuck it, she thought, and began shaving off all her pubic hair. After towelling herself dry, she stood admiring herself for some time. She had never seen herself like this before, and she had to admit that putting on the bikini bottoms was an entirely different experience with a bald pussy! The bikini bottoms were a meagre g-string, which clung to her bulge and plunged deep between her ass cheeks. The top was not much better - two tiny triangles of glossy black fabric held up with micro thin straps. They didn't cover much of her bosom. Why the dowdy shoes though? Again, the day dragged in fear and anticipation of the ordeal to come. At half past eight, she apprehensively stole along the corridor, through the warehouse and pushed open the door of the spirits store. There were only three boxes tonight, but this time, instead of the stool, there appeared to be a chair, covered in a white sheet. She grabbed hold of one corner, and was about to pull it off and sit down, when again the tannoy crackled into life. "Simon didn't say take the sheet off! We are in a rush tonight, Lisa. Anyone would have thought you were keen to get away." The lump rose to Lisa's throat on hearing the jeering voice. "Now, let's see this season's swimwear collection." Fuck it, thought Lisa, I'm not going to let Simple Simon know he's got me scared. And with that, she stared straight into the camera, and began self-assuredly removing her clothes. Soon she was standing there in the skimpy black bikini, her bare feet chilly against the cement floor. She was instructed to open the first box. Inside was a pint container of double cream. She picked it up and waited. "Simon says fill your shoes." She peeled of the lid, and divided the cream between the two. The cream almost overflowed the small canvas shoes. "Put them on." Bending down, she put her left foot into the shoe. The cream oozed between her toes, and spilled over the floor. She then repeated this with the other shoe. She squelched over to the second box. Inside were two small fruit flans, about four inches across. Each was topped with whipped cream, and crowned with a glacŽ cherry. She could more or less guess what was coming next. "Simon says, a pie in each bra cup. Carefully, Lisa. Don't crush them." She lifted the first pie gently by its pastry based, and pulling the bikini top away from her tit, slid the pie in. As she released the bikini, she felt her nipple push into the filling, and the pastry cup crack. She repeated this on her other tit. "Now, press gently on the pies. Face me." The pastry bases crumbled between her fingers, and filling spilled copiously over the top of the bikini, splatting on the floor. The rubbing of the food against her tits, and the sheer abandoning of all control to this man was starting to arouse her. She was almost sorry there was only one more box, and presumably that was her water and towel. She couldn't have been more wrong. The only thing inside was a black eye-mask, as they give out on aeroplanes. Not waiting for Simon, she put it on. Now she was completely unable to see. "Simon says remove the chair cover." Groping, she found the corner of the sheet and tugged. It came off easily. "Sit down very slowly." She found first one arm, then another of the wooden chair. She stood facing away from the chair, using her hands to support her weight on its arms. Inch by inch she lowered her g-string clad bum toward the seat. It didn't take long to find out that Simple Simon had one more treat in store for her. A gentle moan escaped her lips as her buttocks contacted the cool of what she guessed was a cake of some sort. It was a huge, black forest gateau, and least five inches thick and ten across, made of many layers of sponge and cream, and topped with more whipped cream and jam, sprinkled with flakes of chocolate. The crushed cake forced its way between Lisa's buttocks, up through her legs, and splattered on to the floor and oozed into her lap. "Have a play." Lisa, her inhibitions reduced due to her arousal, had now almost gone thanks to the blindfold. She reached into her lap, scooped up the icky mess, and rubbed it into her midriff. She enthusiastically rubbed it into her thighs. "Push some in your panties." She nodded, and got a handful, and stuck it down the front of her bikini g-string. She worked the gloop around, and found that the sensation of working it into her pussy was extremely enjoyable. She carried on rubbing herself between her legs. Her fingers were feeling for her clit. She was on the verge of orgasm. "Simon says hands out! Bad Lisa, getting all excited. Simon is in charge." Lisa flushed deeply. She was oblivious to Simon's presence for a second. Ashamed, she hung her head and waited for her order. "You can get washed now," came the voice. "The water is under your seat." She removed her blindfold, found the water and cleaned up as best she could. On her way out of the warehouse, for some reason she couldn't explain, Lisa smiled at the camera. That night, as Lisa scrubbed herself clean, her memories of the chair kept coming back to her. She had nearly brought herself off, covered in messy food, blindfold, in front of an anonymous blackmailer. She was at a loss to understand herself. She touched herself now, and came quickly and earnestly. The week went by, and Lisa was now no longer consumed by the terror of the next meeting. Simon was being as good as his word - given that she was completely in his power, she had come to no harm, other than the hurt to her dignity. She was even learning to cope with that. In fact she was coping a bit too well. She had better watch herself- She had to concentrate at work to stop her mind wandering back to her sessions with Simple Simon. The feeling of being a toy for someone else's gratification was powerfully erotic, Lisa discovered to her surprise. Of course, she wasn't looking forward to the next session, she told herself. That would be ridiculous. She tore the brown paper wrapping off the next package, and opened the box. To her surprise, there was no skimpy underwear, but a dress and a pair of evening sandals. The dress was made from pink velvet, cut above the knee with a low neckline. Simon was good at choosing clothes for her, Lisa had to admit. The note said "TONIGHT. FABULOUS PRIZES TO BE WON. YOU STAR IN THE GAME SHOW WHEEL OF MISFORTUNE! CONTESTANTS NEED WEAR NO UNDERWEAR" Shit, what had Simon's deranged imagination got cooked up for her tonight? Lisa sat nervously on the bar stool (which had made a re-appearance) waiting to hear Simon's voice. She was already changed into the mini-dress. It was very tight-fitting, and did show a lot of leg and boob. The strappy sandals displayed her feet to good advantage. Lisa nervously crossed her legs. She was not wearing her underwear, as instructed. Looking about her, Lisa could see a couple of boxes on the trestle table in the room. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Wheel of Misfortune. Tonight's misfortunate miss is Lisa. Doesn't she look lovely, ladies and gentlemen? Well, on with our first game. Lisa, lift the first box." The boxes were upside down. She lifted the first one. Underneath were three cakes - a chocolate cake, a raspberry pavlova and a cheescake. "Your task is to retrieve the three prizes hidden in the cakes - without using your hands! " This was possibly the worst yet. Lisa more than anything hated having a messy face, and getting gook all in her hair was an unbelievable nightmare. She closed her eyes, and leant over the table. Mouth open, she plunged her face into the pavlova, her jaws opening and closing, feeling for the prize. After about a minute, she caught a small boiled sweet in her teeth, and came up for air. Her face was a mask of cream, meringue and raspberries. Cake was stuck in her hair, and dripped into her cleavage, and she felt it trickle inside her dress. She repeated the process, with the chocolate cake, then the cheescake. Finally, she wiped her eyes to clear the gunk away. "Didn't she do well. In fact, I'm sure you're bursting with pride, Lisa. Next box." At first, it seemed to be empty. But then she saw that the only contents was a sharp new pencil. She took it out. "Looking up, Lisa, you'll see three balloons. You have one minute to burst all three. Again, no hands!" Lisa could indeed see three party balloons suspended about six feet from the floor. Standing on tip toes, with the pencil held between her teeth, she figured she could just reach them, and if she gave a little jump they would pop. She couldn't see the attraction for Simon, though. Positioning herself under the first balloon, she craned her neck, took aim, and hopped off the ground. Her aim was dead on. It gave a loud pop, and deposited the three pints of cold tomato soup it contained smack in Lisa's upraised face. She was bright orange, covered from head to toe. Bastard! She thought. The next balloon was even worse. It contained Ribena, and Lisa hated the sticky feel as it coated her. Her dress was saturated, and was clinging to her shapely form. Her erect nipples could be seen through it. Doubtless Simon was getting a good eyeful! The final balloon contained icing sugar, which formed a huge cloud, and stuck to the ribena. Lisa looked like a ghost. "Bonus round!" shouted Simon. "On the stool please." Wiping the congealed slop from her eyes, Lisa climbed onto the stool. "Now, on wheel of misfortune, you can gamble what you've already won - a messy dress - for tonights' bonus prize. Yes, Lisa, tonight you have the chance to win the security camera tape!" Lisa's heart leapt. She could get the tape back and be free! "OK, I'll gamble." "That's the spirit. So, for tonight's prize, what is the capital of Bolivia?" SHIT! thought Lisa. Never particularly academic, geography had been one of her worst topics. "Errm, Argentina?" guessed Lisa. "Wrong!" said Simon. "La Paz is the capital of Bolivia. Off with the dress." Lisa stood, and peeled the saturated dress up and over her head. Her naked body glistened under the bare light. Lisa sat back down. "Now Lisa, you've still got the chance to double or quits." Shivering, and wrapping her arms around herself, Lisa nodded her head. "Now, to get your clothes back and walk away with tonight's' star prize, who invented the theory of relativity?" "Tony Blair?" she asked, the PM being one of the few public figures of whom she was aware. "No, Lisa, Tony Blair did not invent the theory of relativity! You win the booby prize - certainly no trifling matter!" With that, Lisa heard a light click above her head. Foolishly, she looked up. The largest trifle she had ever seen was dropped through a hatch, and hit her full square in the face. Custard, cream, sponge and jelly flew in every direction, splashed onto her boobs, trickled into her lap and onto her shaven pussy. "Bad luck Lisa. But wasn't she a sport, ladies and gentlemen?" The next day at work, there was only one topic of conversation in the girl's changing room. "Have you heard? Someone else got the sack. Security guard, apparently, having wild parties in the booze store. Neil Shipham he was called." Lisa new him, vaguely. A lad a bit older than her, shifty looking. Always seemed to be giving her the eye. She had always walked past him with her nose in the air. And now it turned out that he was simple simon! It seemed like her torment was at an end. The feeling was confirmed that night when she got home to find another package on the mat. Inside was a video tape, with a label identifying it as the one from the security camera on the night of the theft. She breathed a sigh of relief. Yet that night in bed, it was not unbridled relief that she felt- Neil's jaw nearly hit the floor as he opened it and saw Lisa standing on his doorstep. He stood there for a few seconds, his mouth opening and closing like a half spent fish. Lisa was wearing her velvet dressed (washed, of course) and high heels. "So what's Simple Simon got to say for himself now then?" she said, offering him the carton of cream. MESSOLINI -------------------------------------- Back to Shokolada's Messy Stories archive (http://chocmess.com/splosh/messyarc.htm)