This story is purely a work of fiction. The story does NOT describe real events and the characters are fictional. Any resemblance to real events or persons is coincidence. In keeping with its fictional nature, the events and activities described in the story may not be legal, ethical or safe. This site does NOT endorse or recommend their enactment.
I apologise for the delay in this service. There can be no excuse… lessons have been learned, and this chapter has gotten thoroughly out of hand. Messiness, sexual themes, and what have you. Some stronger sexual themes towards the end of the chapter.
Adeline strode onto stage, grinning widely. “Hello everyone, and welcome to the Messy Gunge Grand Prix for the Round One Results! Here, we’ll be seeing just how the eliminations in the first round will affect our contestants – who chose wisely, and who will be having messy regrets?
“As ever, to help me, I have my lovely stats girl, Megan!”
To a round of applause, the attractive Indian girl stepped nervously on stage, wearing dark slacks and a white shirt that seemed to be slightly stained orange; she was also barefoot.
“If any of our newer viewers are wondering why she’s dressed like this,” Adeline said, “Megan was kind enough to demonstrate some of the punishments that are at stake for our contestants who aren’t so fortunate in their predictions, in the process losing her shoes, socks, and vest top. Megan will remain like this for the rest of the contest… provided that she’s lucky enough not to lose any more clothing, at least!
“Now, to welcome our contestants back to the show, please give a big hand for my assistant and correspondent, Waverly Bell!”
As the audience applauded, the curtains rose to reveal sixteen attractive young women sitting in a grid of chairs – some looking more confident than others – and, in front of them, smiling wildly, a short and curvy blue-haired girl.
“Thank you, Adeline! I’m here with the contestants, ready to reveal what’s what! First up – Casey, Hana, and Octavia!”
The three contestants stepped forward, all looking pretty confident – cosplayer Casey, dressed to resemble Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn; dancer Hana, a slender Japanese girl wearing a revealing clubbing outfit; and the faux-feminist ‘satirist’ Octavia, costumed in a plaid overshirt, slogan T-shirt, and cargo trousers.
“Now, all of our contestants may have lost at least one of their nominees… but you three were the ones who managed to stop there. Casey, your nominee Meg Turney was eliminated, as was Hana’s choice of Madeline Petsch.”
“It’s shocking!” Hana complained. “Did you people see her in the first episode of the new season! That diner scene… what an entrance!” She shook her head, sharing a sad look with Waverly.
“Nevertheless, both of you only lost a single nominee, meaning that you get immunity from any punishment in this round. Please return to your seats!”
Waverly turned to Octavia, left standing alone.
“As for you, however… while you only lost a single nominee in Lexi Thompson, you had a double score modifier on her after losing your challenge against Fay last week. What do the rules say about that, Megan?”
Megan looked somewhat nervous. “Well, the rules specifically say that losing only one nominee grants immunity from any specific messy punishment – and getting to two points doesn’t have any punishments of its own in this round, anyway!”
Adeline interrupted. “Nevertheless, losing a double-score like that cannot go without some punishment. Since you have messy immunity, you’ll have to take another forfeit – please strip two items of clothing.”
Octavia froze, looking as if she might panic for a moment, before realising that she still had a great deal of leeway at this early stage. Bending over, she quickly removed her shoes and socks, revealing her elegant feet, toenails painted pink. She made her way back to her seat hastily.
“Next,” Waverly continued. “We have those who lost two nominees – please join me, Becca, Emmy, and Quinn!”
Perky cheerleader Becca, dressed (as ever), in her ‘Birmingham Pussycats’ cheerleader’s uniform, bounded forward, grinning irrepressibly; student politician Emmy, in her best smart-casual garb, and the brilliant med student Quinn – just casual – looked rather more nervous about things. Losing two nominations certainly wasn’t bad – but without immunity they were looking at a potential gungey forfeit.
First, Waverly turned to address Becca. “Well Becca, despite your cheering them on, Rachel Platten fought and lost, and Kirsten Dunst is done and dusted.”
“Cheering means supporting your team even in defeat – and they both struggled bravely.”
From the main stage, Adeline spoke up. “Certainly they did – and so you won’t receive a super-forfeit. But I thought Kirsten’s defeat was quite a disappointment, so I’ve decided that it’ll be an appropriate punishment for you to get to reenact her iconic scene in the rain from Spider-Man. Please make your way to the bonus area!”
A curtain whisked up, revealing another segment of the set containing nothing but a small glass booth, open above and on one side, with a network of pipes leading to it. Becca made her way towards it, looking somewhat less cheerful.
“Hey, Becca,” piped up Megan. “Look on the bright side – at least we’re not asking you to re-enact Kirsten’s iconic nightmare scene from Bring It On!”
Becca blushed, but tried to grin through it, and stood in the booth. “So is there anything I need to do or-“
She screamed as the pipes suddenly opened, dumping a flood of ice-cold water straight over her. Her hair and clothes were soaked through, though her hair-bow remained attached, if somewhat displaced. Worst of all, she could feel it seeping through her trainers and soaking her socks, which now just felt squishy and gross. At least, she thought after a quick check, it wasn’t quite as revealing as that scene, since unlike Kirsten she was wearing a bra under her top. Her chilled nipples may have been hard as bullets, but at least the audience couldn’t see it!
She grinned brightly again, and stepped forward. “I’ve cheered in c-c-c-c-older weather than th-th-th-th-” Her teeth chattered too hard for her to continue, and she shivered. A laughing Waverly handed her a towel, and ushered her back over to her seat, before turning to face Emmy and Quinn.
“Well… which of you two wants to go next?” The two girls looked at each other uncertainly for a moment, and then Emmy nervously raised her hand.
“I’m prepared to step forward at this juncture-“
Waverly laughed. “We don’t need a speech about it! Well, you only lost two nominees, Fan Bingbing, beaten by Natalie Portman, and Camille Hyde. However… Adeline?”
“The power was not with Camille Hyde – she lost quite comprehensively to Barbara Dunkelman in the least-popular vote of the round! As a politician, I’m sure you appreciate the dangers of low turnout, so I’m afraid that you’re going to have to receive a super-bonus forfeit! First, please remove an item of clothing, and then follow Waverly to the bonus area!”
Emmy’s eyes widened – she’d thought that only losing two contestants would protect her from having to strip, at least! She thought about taking off her pink trainers, but decided to keep them on to give her feet a little more protection, instead removing her blue jacket. It was a pretty smart decision, since Waverly led her to the same glass booth that Becca had just been drenched in, and walking over the wet floor would have been pretty unpleasant in just her socks. She stepped inside, trying to project a confidence that she didn’t feel.
No sooner had she stepped inside than the pipes opened, dousing her in waves of pink gunge. It soaked into her top, which started to cling to her skin as a result, and tangled in her braids. Fortunately for Emmy the gunge didn’t last too long, and soon she was able to wipe her face and return to her seat, leaving a trail of pink slime behind her. Waverly turned to Quinn.
“And as for you, Quinn – two picks of your picks turned out not to be the smart option! Carol Vorderman suffered a surprise defeat against Shappi Khorsandi, while Pauley Perrette was defeated utterly in her match-up against Anne Hathaway.”
“In fact,” piped up Megan, “Pauley Perrette received the fewest votes of any contestant in all Round One, a fairly unfortunate statistic. I liked her as Abby Sciuto as well!” She looked at Quinn with sympathy.
“Nevertheless,” Adeline said, “such a poor result requires a special punishment – her vote count was truly abysmal, and she was your selection, freely chosen.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to remove an item of clothing, and then make your way to the booth.”
Quinn felt nervous at having to remove her clothes, but reassured herself that it was only one item. She considered keeping her shoes on as Emmy had, but quickly realised that her smart black shoes wouldn’t provide any real protection from whatever mess she would be doused in, unlike her coat. She slipped her shoes off, leaving herself standing in her little white socks, before carefully making her way towards the booth, trying – unsuccessfully – not to put her socks in the slime and water scattered across the floor.
She stepped into the booth, and turned nervously to face the audience, hunkering down into her black coat. At the other side of the stage, Adeline smiled.
“As punishment for your nominee receiving the lowest number of votes, I’ve decided to slather you in the lowest of temperatures – get ready to become a human sundae!”
Soft-serve ice cream spooled out of the pipes, one swirl landing obscenely on Quinn’s head, who screamed at the coldness of it. Other globs fell and smeared over her coat. The dairy downpour continued, globs splattering down all over the med student, who hunkered down into her coat in an attempt to withstand it.
Quinn was incredibly glad that she’d chosen to keep her coat… until a thick blob of cold landed heavily on her sock-clad foot, the wet chill penetrating straight through her thin sock. She screeched in surprise and disgust.
Even as further icy globules plummeted from above, that which had already fallen melted from her body heat, slipping down across her face and body as it did so. Quinn shivered in the cold.
At last the sweet blizzard came to an end, leaving Quinn a white blob of soft vanilla, her black coat so thoroughly smeared that it seemed to have changed colour, and her socks soaked through. She wiped milk out of her eyes as she squelched her way back to her seat.
“Next, if I could have Jak, Fay, Grace, Petra, and Lana up here!”
The girls made their way to the front of the stage: dim, pig-tailed Jak, baring a lot of cleavage in her low-cut lace top and shaggy pink jacket; drama queen Fay, clad in her long black skirt and red bodice; superfan Grace, dressed in her Doctor Who t-shirt and iconic scarf; gorgeous model Petra, outfitted for the catwalk in her miniskirt, jacket and strappy square neck top; and future lawyer – and current megabitch – Lana, whose elegant grey business suit was somewhat spoiled by flecked stains on her white shirt and her suit trousers being dis-coloured up to mid-thigh.
“First off,” Waverly began, “since all of you have reached the threshold caused by losing three nominees, there’s a forfeit just for that – strip one item and a pie to the face. So all of need to remove one item – you can remove more if you want of course!”
Fay was the first – with a dramatic sigh, she kicked off her ballet flats, leaving her standing barefoot on the stage. Grace and Jak joined her in opting to remove their shoes, Grace taking off her boots to leave her in her blue TARDIS socks, while Jak, after some hesitation, took off her rose gold wedges to properly reveal her sparkly toenail polish.
Lana and Petra, meanwhile, chose to keep their shoes, instead plumping for discarding their jackets.
Meanwhile, stagehands had carried on a table laden with massive pies, swirled high with masses of cream, all ready to be used.
“Very good – shame none of you took up my offer, but fair enough. I’ll think I’ll start with… Petra. Step forward, please.”
The beautiful model stepped forward, looking only slightly nervous. She threw back her long dark hair, and batted her eyes. “Pie time, then?”
Waverly nodded with a smile, and rammed a cream pie directly into Petra’s gorgeous face. Cream splatted across Petra’s face, and tumbled into the valley of her cleavage, contrasting pleasingly with the coffee skin of her breasts. The sheer force and coverage of it shocked the model who hesitantly brought her hands to her face to wipe her eyes clear – it took her a few attempts, and even then she was left with small clumps of cream clinging to her long eyelashes.
As Petra began to reassure herself that at least the worst was over, Adeline spoke up. “That’s the punishment for reaching the three-point threshold. But you also have to face punishments for the celebrities you lost, and there were some particularly disappointing results there. Lindsey Pelas did the worst, receiving a particularly poor score – so I need to strip one item. Specifically, for Lindsey Pelas – your bra.”
Petra’s expression was unreadable – in large part because her face was still covered was cream – but she complied swiftly enough, shaking the cream off her hands before reaching under her top; after a bit of pleasant wriggling – causing yet more of the cream to drop from her face into her cleavage – she extracted a black push-up bra and handed it to Waverly.
Adeline continued: “But despite the fact that her vote was the closest of the three, I’m particularly disappointed in Kate Upton, especially since she lost to Victoria Justice. What exactly has she done, lately?
“No, I think that that’s a loss deserving of a special punishment – one that fits Kate Upton… and, I think, honours Lindsey Pelas as well. Time for a wet T-shirt contest! With one contestant!”
Petra’s shoulders slumped – so this was why Adeline had specified that she take off her bra! She couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment in her predictions, as well – who would have thought that women so gorgeous wouldn’t even make it through the first round? She took the towel that Waverly gave her and scrubbed her face, thinking furiously.
Although she was a model, she’d never done nude modelling. Nonetheless, she’d accepted when she signed up for the show that there was a pretty good chance of her ending up naked, and considered it a worthy trade for what it could do for her career. But she hadn’t expected it to start so early – and a wet t-shirt contest was just so… classless. For all that there’d been the joke of Kate Upton as a ‘Wet T-shirt contest winner’, that had been as part of a photoshoot – rather more controlled!
Her white top was a bit thicker than the standard paper-thin cotton used in those contests, but it would still be extremely revealing once it was wet – especially without a bra. In practical terms, the audience would be able to see everything. Still, it was more than within the scope of what she’d expected and signed up, so protesting would not work even slightly. Hell, maybe she could get a reward by throwing herself into wholeheartedly – it was a contest after all. She was going to make damn sure that she won!
By the time she revealed her face, she was grinning cheerfully, seeming almost eager to get on with it. She turned and walked towards the booth, putting a little extra waggle into her walk as she did. She stepped in, and turned to face the audience.
“Well then, boys,” she said, “are you ready for some fun?”
The water began to pour from the pipes immediately. It was cooler than she’d prefer, Petra thought, but it least it wasn’t as freezing as that which had drenched poor Becca. The model danced in the deluge, letting the water sluice over her body and soak into her clothes. She flipped back her hair, pausing to purse her lips sultrily at the audience.
She looked down at her top – it was clinging, certainly, but due to being thicker than a t-shirt it wasn’t yet properly transparent. With a moment’s thought, Petra arranged herself so that water was pouring into her cleavage, and her top was being soaked from the inside as well. This worked better, and her top quickly grew wetter, her brown skin showing through the wet, clinging material. Still not quite enough, though…
Petra turned to put her back to the audience, and danced more, waggling her bum – which also looked pretty nice in her wet miniskirt – at the audience to distract them while pulled her top away from her breasts and let the water run over them completely. Her nipples hardened as the cool water rushed over them. She stretched her top a little, and then let it fall back into place. Right then.
Petra swayed, gradually rotating in the stream, until she was facing the audience once more, her large breasts and hard nipples now clearly visible through the drenched material of her top. The audience cheered, their pleased reaction sending a rush of mingled embarrassment and excitement through Petra, and she grinned wider still. She bent forward, pressing her arms to squeeze her boobs together, and the audience went wild. She stood up straight and ran her hand through her hair, every jiggle of her breasts as she did so completely visible to the crowd.
Petra was almost disappointed when the water at last slowed to a trickle. She stepped carefully out of the booth – a pratfall really wasn’t the sort of look she was trying for, and as good as her balance was, her heels were not really designed for these conditions! She felt weirdly elated – she’d known that she was drop-dead gorgeous for a good few years, as soon as she was past her awkward gawky phase, but confirmation was always pleasant.
Waverly looked very appreciative. “Thank you, Petra – that was awesome! Next is Fay!”
The actress coughed. “No – I cannot allow myself to be pied in this fashion. Simply shoving it into my face, as you did Petra? No – it’s utterly uninspired, Waverly, and I cannot bear it. Slapstick is a venerable art-form, truly classic, and it deserves better than this… mediocre display.”
She paused. “How experienced are with improvisation, Waverly dear? Follow my lead, I shall make this a performance worthy of the name! My character is a prudish satirist who has stepped into a charming patisserie for refreshment after a busy day’s work trying to censor daring avant-garde plays; you shall play a waitress within that same establishment. Let us begin!”
With a snap of her fingers, she transformed: she drew herself up haughtily, and glared down her nose at Waverly. “Girl? Yes, you girl. I wish to make a purchase. What pastries do you have for sale within this… squalid store?”
Waverly froze for a second, and then snapped into character. “Ah, bonjour mademoiselle! Welcome to our ‘umble patisserie! We ‘ave ze cream pies, ze custard pies, and all in an assortment of flav-ahrs…”
“Cream pies? Cream pies?!? How dare you bring me, a good English girl of impeccable breeding, something so revoltingly continental? Cream pies are completely inappropriate – lewd, lascivious… I only consume traditional English puddings! Many a spotted dick has gone into my mouth-” Fay paused for a moment as Waverly lost her battle to hold in her giggles, before sighing in annoyance. “If you’re just going to stand there making silly noises, you annoying little French girl, at least go to fetch me one of these disgusting pies so that I can examine it for myself!”
Waverly rushed over to do so, struggling to control herself. Before she got back with it, Fay held up an imperious hand to stop her. “No, come no closer with the pie – you look like the clumsy sort to me.” She strode over to Waverly, and peered haughtily down at the cream-topped confection. “As I thought. This looks truly obscene. This filthy bakery should be closed down for selling such inappropriate foodstuffs at this.”
“Ah! I shall get reed of it at once-“
“No! I shall… examine it. Give it to me,” she seized the edge of the cream pie, and made as if to snatch it by force. “Give it to me!”
“At once, mademoi-oh!”
Fay’s commitment to the role was actually quite impressive. To actually slam the pie into her own face with that much force – it was certainly impressive. The cream splattered everywhere – high into her hair, dislodging the flowers woven into it; more tumbled down, onto her bodice and skirt. But most of it remained on her face, seeming to turn it into a white oval. Her mouth opened like a black hole, and she emitted a wail.
“You! You stupid little French person! This is all your fault!”
“I am so sorry, mademoiselle! I weel fetch you a new cream pie, right away!”
Fay scraped the cream from her face and shook it from her hands onto the floor, her whole body language radiating disgust. With perfect timing, she noticed Waverly rushing towards her, pie in hand. “No! Don’t you dare come any closer! You’ll just end up throwing the pie in my face, you clumsy little French girl! Put the pie down, and I shall fetch it myself! Put it on the floor, and step back!”
Once Waverly complied, Fay began to walk towards the pie – only to ‘slip’ on the cream that she had thrown to the floor, tumbling dramatically to the floor with her face falling directly into the pie with a hard splat. She peeled her face out of it, looked up, and began to throw a tantrum, kicking and screaming on the floor.
“Okay, drama queen, that’s enough,” Adeline interrupted. “You did good work here, and I’m impressed, but don’t push your luck. Now, you did lose three of your predictions, but they were either close or unsurprising, and so since your little show put me in a good mood… that’ll do for you. Next contestant, Waverly!”
Fay cleaned herself up as Waverly looked over the girls remaining, pondering. “Next… let’s go with Grace!”
“Wait a moment, please,” Adeline interrupted. “Fay made perhaps a good point about simple pieing being uninspiring – and Grace has already been pied by you three times, Waverly. Let’s mix it up a little… how’d you like to pie her, Lana?”
A broad grin spread across Lana’s face, and she laughed. “Yes! Finally – revenge for her getting me covered in chicken poop! This is going to be sweet!”
Grace raised an eyebrow, and considered protesting that it had in no way been her fault, but she couldn’t really be bothered – what was the difference for her between being pied by Waverly or Lana, anyway? She stepped forward.
Lana faced her, pie in hand, wondering what would be the best way of doing this. At last, she slammed the pie into Grace’s face, and then pushed it up into her frizzy orange hair as well. Grace scraped the pie from her face with a sigh.
“But wait!” Waverly cried. “There’s more! Grace, you had a double score on Jodie Whitaker, and her shocking first-round defeat to Christina Hendricks means that you also reach the four-point threshold!”
Grace sighed again. “Honestly, thinking about it I think it’s fine, and I’m not really disappointed. It’s one thing for a companion to be gunged, but for the Doctor to get it seems almost… blasphemous. I’m more disappointed about Freema, really. Still…”
She removed her – slightly cream-splattered – scarf. “And now custard, I suppose?”
Waverly grinned. “Yup! But since she enjoyed the pie so much, I think it’s only fair that we let Lana administer it again!”
Lana giggled and steepled her hands, eagerly grabbing the carton of custard that Waverly handed her. Her grin this time was even creepier. She bit her lip, and then, quickly stepping forward, stretched the neck of Grace’s t-shirt and poured the custard down into it.
Grace squeaked with shock and surprise. She’d been expecting Lana to rub the custard into her hair, maybe, certainly not to pour it into her top! The cold custard slithered onto her breasts, and Grace squealed in disgust. She could feel it sliding over her breasts and down across her stomach, shockingly cold, and it doing so under her t-shirt just felt wrong.
The other effect of the custard was to make Grace’s previously loose t-shirt cling to her figure, making it obvious that she had surprisingly large breasts hidden under that oversized shirt. Lana laughed again.
Waverly jumped in, grinning. “Well, that was exciting! Thank you, Lana! That’s your threshold penalties – but do you have any bonus punishments?”
“Of course,” Adeline responded. “You may not be disappointed at Jodie Whitaker’s first round defeat, but I consider the new Doctor losing in the first round – when so many companions have been champions in the past! – an astonishingly poor showing. But, what we’re giving you here is a special challenge – a chance to obtain a bonus for the next round, if you succeed! Welcome to Messtermind!”
Grace stepped into the booth, looking curious. “Messtermind? So how exactly does this work? I get slimed whenever I get a question wrong?”
Adeline answered, after a brief pause. “Yes, you will get slimed whenever you get a question wrong.”
“First question!” Waverly announced cheerfully. “What were the last words of the Sixth Doctor?”
Grace blinked. “Chronologically? Or does that include the books and audios? Because there’s-“
Adeline pressed the buzzer on Megan’s desk, and the pipes above Grace opened, showering her in bright orange carrot juice. She screamed.
The shower didn’t last long, though it left her ginger hair plastered to her head and her t-shirt clinging even more tightly to her curves. Adeline laughed.
“Carrot juice for the carrot top! Excellent!”
Grace pushed her hair out of her eyes, looking livid. “That wasn’t fair! I knew the answer; it was only because the question was unclear-“
“B-b-b-b-buh,” interrupted Adeline. “My decision, sweetie. Make sure you answer quicker next time if you want it to count!”
“Okay then!” said Waverly. “What type of babies did the Fourth Doctor offer people?”
Grace blinked at the odd question, but then answered hurriedly: “Jelly! Jelly babies!”
“Correct!” Waverly replied. Grace cheered – and then screamed in surprise as the pipes opened and dumped mashed jelly (in several flavours) right over her. The sticky jelly tumbled over her, clumps sticking in her wet hair and clothes, with a few pieces on her face.
“What the hell?!?” Grace cried. “I got that right! You said I’d only be slimed if I got a question wrong!”
Adeline chuckled. “No, dear. I said that you’d be slimed whenever you got a question wrong – I never said you’d be spared it for getting a question right!”
Grace growled in irritation, but listened carefully for the next question.
“What was the first food that the Eleventh Doctor enjoyed with Amy Pond?”
“Ugh,” said Grace, bracing for what she knew was coming. “Fishfingers and custard.”
Yellow custard poured through the pipes and over Grace’s head… though what at first seemed to be lumps in the custard quickly revealed themselves to be bits of fishfinger. Thanks to the custard, some of them even managed to stick to her clothing and hair, leaving Grace even more of a mess. At least fishfingers weren’t that fishy, Grace thought, as picked a lump out of her hair and dropped it on the floor.
“Fourth question!” Waverly announced. “What did the moon turn out to be-“
“No, I refuse,” Grace interrupted. “I do not acknowledge that episode, because it’s too stupid-“
“Fine,” said Adeline, and pushed the buzzer. Raw egg mixture gushed out of the pipes and all over Grace, who screeched in disgust. Yolks split and smeared into her messy hair, and the mix was thin enough for some to even slide down into her t-shirt. Her attempts to flick the disgusting egg mix off of her only made the cling of her shirt even more mesmerising to the rapt audience.
“Fifth and final question, and the decider!” said Waverly. “What did the Krillitanes use to give the children of Deffry Vale super-intelligence?”
Grace paused. “Um… that was the episode with Sarah Jane, and Giles off of Buffy… and the kids’ were being made super-smart by… the chips in the canteen!”
“…Wrong. It was the oil they fried the chips in!”
The buzzer blared, and Grace didn’t even have chance to scream before used vegetable oil poured in a torrent over her. On the plus side, it blasted off most of the other mess that had coated her; the downside was that it instead replaced all of it with slick, shiny greasiness, further plastering her hair to her scalp and her t-shirt to her curves. Her trousers were similarly slimy, soaked through and clinging.
“Unfortunately,” observed Waverly, “with a mere two right answers out of five, you don’t win the bonus for the next round. Bad luck. But before you go back to your seat, here’s a little something to cheer you up!”
She passed a custard pie to Grace, who had to be particularly careful not to let it slip from her oil-slick hands. “Turnabout is fair play, after all – Lana pied you, so…”
Grace blinked for a moment before grinning, turning towards the protesting law student who backed away, teetering unsteadily on her heels. She considered how to best use the pie in her hands, before realising that practicality would have to rule, here – with her hands this greasy trying to slam it into Lana’s face, let alone anything more elaborate, would be almost impossible. Lana was a little taller than her on those heels, but not insuperably so – grabbing the case with both hands, she reached up and inverted the pie above Lana’s head, plopping it down solidly onto her dark red locks.
With a splat and a squeal, cream splattered across Lana’s hair and straight down over her face. The pie case, left atop Lana’s head, tilted askew like some trendy hat. Waverly laughed.
“Well then, time for most of you to return to your seats before we finish up with Jak here,” she patted the miserable Lana on the back, putting a finger to her lips to hush Grace out of the law student’s line of sight. “And her results were interesting indeed! But first things first-“
With a smooth movement, she picked up a pie and slammed it straight into Jak’s face. Jak squeaked in surprise, and bounced in place, cream dropping into her impressive cleavage and her mouth dropping open. Her pigtails framed her cream-coated white face nicely.
“Of course,” Waverly continued, “one of your nominations, Savannah May, has a double-score, bringing you to the four-point threshold. Please remove another item of clothing.”
Jak, busily wiping cream off her face, stopped to look down at what she was wearing. Having already removed her shoes, she was left with her lacy top, her denim pedal pushers, and her shaggy pink jacket. She couldn’t get down to her undies in public… not sober, at least. But she really loved her jacket… it was so fluffy! Ultimately, she didn’t have a choice, and so, her lower lip wobbling, she removed her jacket and handed it carefully to a stagehand. Waverly stepped forward, carton of custard in her hand.
“And the second penalty for four points is custard!” she said cheerfully, pondering where to put it. When she’d been thinking about it before the show, she’d decided to go straight over the head, messing up the contestants’ hair and potentially spilling down all over them. But Jak was presenting an incredibly tempting alternate target… and Lana had already poured Grace’s custard down her t-shirt, so it wouldn’t do for Waverly herself to look more timid about this than one of the other contestants!
So she went for it – pouring the carton of custard right over Jak’s boobs as the girl squealed in shock. She jumped and juddered in place, presenting a moving target, but Waverly was more than up to the challenge – it remained a large hitzone, albeit a wobbly one. The custard swiftly filled Jak’s cleavage, and for a moment seemed as if it might overflow and spill down the front of her top, but then began to pour down inside instead, a large bulge moving down the middle of the girl’s top and over her tummy. She grimaced in disgust.
Adeline laughed. “Oh, that was splendid. That was the standard four-point penalty, but I’ve been thinking that you’re a special case, Jak, and should be treated as such – you had to choose the winner of the Savannah May – Marisha Ray match-up, and you picked wrong. And I think Megan had something to say as well?”
“Yes, thank you Adeline! It’s actually quite interesting – although Lzzy Hale’s vote count wasn’t that bad, she lost to Michelle Wie, who had the lowest vote of any of our winners in this round, even receiving fewer votes than some of those who lost.”
“Indeed. And losing to the least popular winner counts as deserving of a special punishment, I think – first, you’re going to need to strip off another item of clothing, before making your way to the punishment area.”
Jak blinked. “Strip? But I’ve already taken off my jacket and my shoes. I’m not…” She looked at Adeline imploringly, an intense moment that was slightly spoiled by it also being the moment that a large blob of custard slurped out from her top and slid over her crotch.
“I don’t know what the problem is.” Adeline commented. “Judging by some of the pictures your friends sent us during the recruitment process, you’ve shown much more than you’re about to on many a night out! Time to choose – your top or your jeans.”
Jak pouted, looking sorry for herself, before answering. “Wavy got my top all messy anyway.”
She grabbed her top at the base and pulled it over her head, in the process releasing a wave of custard over her pedal pushers. She threw her top to the floor sulkily, the swift movement making her large breasts jiggle once more, now more obvious than ever in no more than a (rather custard-stained) pink push up bra. Jak crossed her arms under her breasts, pouting.
“Don’t sulk, Jak,” Adeline commented. “You haven’t even received your full punishment yet! I’ve decided to combine things – first, for Lzzy Hale. The ‘i’ is gone from her name – annoying – so it seems fair for you to be deprived of your ‘i’s as well! Put on the blindfold that Waverly is about to give you!”
Jak pouted even more at this, but complied, slipping the blindfold over her face. “Now what?”
“Now for the punishment for Savannah May. Well. We actually spend a surprising amount of our budget on this bit of kit, so we might as well get a bit more use out of it – and it worked pretty well to represent Knight Squad last time, too! Stick her in the pillory!”
Jak screeched and flailed her legs as two stagehands picked her up by her arms and carried her over to the pillory in the punishment area. They strapped her firmly in – leaving her bending over in a position that made her breasts even more obvious – before leaving her in Waverly’s care, walking offstage. Jak’s head twitched as she tried to work out what was about to happen without being able to see a thing.
For her part, Waverly stood next to the table of goodies, wondering what to go for. Maybe not the tomatoes this time, since she had pretty poor aim – and then she laughed, realising how to get that at least in spirit. She picked up two large squeezy bottles of ketchup, and stalked towards the captive girl. Waverly’s tongue stuck out of her mouth as she moved, quietly as she could, towards the increasingly nervous Jak; at last, she stood almost directly in front of her, bottles held on either side of the girl’s face.
She fired! Jak screamed as both sides of her face were simultaneously slammed with splurges of cheap canteen ketchup at point blank range. Waverly moved the streams, directing it all over the girl’s face as well as into her hair. Next target – she lifted the bottles, and squirted them all over Jak’s bare – and so far almost entirely clean – back. And to finish, of course, she took a step back before aiming for Jak’s bra-clad breasts, splattering the sauce all over that great cleavage.
Jak shuffled and whined, ketchup dripping from her body, as Waverly chose the next slop to mess her up with. The next thing to target would be her pedal pushers, which apart from having been trendily distressed to begin with, had so far stayed relatively clean. And the best thing to mess them up would be… hah! perfect!
Jak felt increasingly uncomfortable trapped in the pillory, with ketchup slowly dripping down her face and boobs, and with her hands locked she was totally unable to even wipe it. And with the blindfold on, she had no idea where Waverly even was, let alone what her next move would be.
The next thing she felt was something lumpy and disgusting splattering across her bare back, and she jumped, sending her breasts juddering once more. What was it? The texture just felt nasty – thick and clumpy, but still moist and slimy. Next she felt more of it splattering against her legs, and moisture soaking through her jeans, but still more clumps tumbling down, some even splattering over her bare feet.
What Jak couldn’t tell, being unable to see, was that this was a bucketful of mushy peas, deliberately chosen by Waverly for the profoundly unnatural bright green hue it sported, and which looked particularly unpleasant smeared over Jak’s denim pedal pushers. The girl attempted to move her feet away from the peas splattered over them, but only ended up stepping into even bigger piles to her further discomfort. It had been unpleasant enough to have the peas splatter across her feet – how much worse it was to step into them, and feel their lumpy texture sliding over the soles of her feet, and squelching between her toes!
Fortunately – or perhaps not? – Jak didn’t have to spend a great deal of time trying to fruitlessly find comfort. Waverly had decided early what the final slops that she threw over Jak would be, especially given how well it had worked against poor Lexi DiBenedetto. It was a smaller bucket of leftovers this time, but it was as toxic yellow and powerfully scented as before – the studio canteen’s horrible curry!
With her eyes covered, Jak couldn’t see Waverly coming, but so strong was the pong of that foul concoction that she had a few moments to smell it coming – an expression of horror crossed her face, before being blotted out as Waverly tipped the bucket straight over her head. Jak flinched, desperately trying to turn her head out of the disgusting downpour, her pigtails flying around her head before the slop washed over them and plastered them to her face. Sauce slimed over Jak’s head, pieces of mystery meat tumbling in its wake. The only effect of her wails and protests was to allow the sauce to slip into her mouth, and the girl was left spitting petulantly in an attempt to get rid of the flavour.
“This is just rubbish!” she shouted, “This isn’t fun at all!”
Waverly just grinned, and raised her arm. Jak screamed again, this time in surprise, as the stage floor moved and bore her off. Waverly turned to the audience.
“Well, thank you to Jak for that, and given how messy she’s gotten we’ve decided to take pity on her and let her have some privacy to clean herself up a bit. Meanwhile, we can move on to looking at contestants who lost four of their nominees – please come up Raven, Nikki, Denisse and Katye!”
The four contestants made their way to the front of the stage: rocker Raven, all leather and fishnets; athlete Nikki, her workout gear revealing lots of toned brown skin; caramel-skinned Colombian patriot Denisse, dressed to kill in her tight top and yoga pants; and bratty rich girl Katye, wearing her most practical equestrian jacket and jodhpurs.
Raven was the only one to seem confident, but that may well have been mere bravado; Katye looked annoyed, Denisse disappointed, and Nikki seemed to almost be in shock at how poorly her selection of talented athletes had performed. And the punishment just meted out to the unfortunate Jak couldn’t have helped – what now awaited them?
Waverly grinned as she turned to face them. “Since all of you have lost four of your nominees, let’s not waste time – to start with for reaching the four-point threshold, all of you need to strip off two items of clothing.”
Nikki – still looking slightly disbelieving at the whole turn of events – went first, quickly removing her jacket to leave her ready for action in her sports bra and shorts. She followed up by crouching down to remove her trainers, leaving her standing in a colourful pair of sport ankle socks. Raven and Denisse followed her lead, both choosing to remove jacket and shoes as well, leaving Raven in her fishnet top and ripped red tights, while Denisse was left barefoot while otherwise wearing her yellow top and black and white yoga pants. Katye, her lips tight as she seethed with fury at the whole business, chose to keep her jacket and instead remove her riding shoes and the socks she had underneath, revealing her gold toe rings and bejeweled nails.
“Excellent!” said Waverly cheerfully. “Now, to mix things up a little, I’ve decided to offer you the option to pair up and mess each other-“
“Then I’m messing up the jock,” Raven interrupted, pointing at a confused Nikki. “A chance for some revenge on a girl like that? I’m in.”
“Then it looks like that means it’s our two foreign visitors pairing off as well,” said Waverly smoothly. Denisse grinned.
“Good. I may be supporting South America in the contest, but I’m happy to stand up for lovely Britain against this mean little rich brat!” Katye’s only response was a sneer.
Waverly clapped to stop the petty arguments. “We let our computer system pick the order of punishments, and first up is Nikki – so here is the cream pie for you to use, Raven.”
The rock chick grinned as she grabbed the pie, wondering just how best to use it to mess up the sporty girl. After a few moments of thought, she decided to go for the classic, and thrust the pie into Nikki’s face, pushing it up afterwards to also distribute the cream into the girl’s curly brown hair. Nikki was left wiping cream off of her face, looking somewhat annoyed.
Fortunately for her, her chance for revenge came swiftly, since Waverly handed the next pie to her for use on Raven. She hefted the pie thoughtfully in one hand before repaying Raven in kind, thrusting the pie onto the girl’s face with all her strength.
She hadn’t accounted for how strong she was, however – or perhaps she had just taken the rocker by surprise. Not only did the sheer force of the hit propel cream spurting outwards into Raven’s dark green hair and down onto – and through – her fishnet top, but the power and swiftness off it knocked the girl right off her feet, sending her tumbling backwards in a spectacular pratfall.
Raven’s backside smacked hard onto the stage, leaving her sprawled across the floor with her legs spread, giving the audience a view straight up her tight leather skirt. She rubbed the side of her head, dazed, before peeling the pie case off her face and trying to clear her eyes so that she could see.
Nikki was horrified at what she’d accidentally done. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, Raven!” She held out her hand to help the girl up. Raven just snarled and slapped her hand aside, pushing herself to her feet, and looking forward to her chance for revenge on the pretty athlete.
Next up was Denisse, to Katye’s pleasure. While she’d wanted to humiliate British girls, the gorgeous Colombian would still make a decent target. Not that she had anything against Colombians – she was a great fan of some Colombian products!
Katye decided to do something different – why was everyone restricting themselves to slamming the pie into their target’s face, anyway? Denisse was already expecting it, closing her eyes in anticipation. And there was another target that stood out proudly, thanks to Denisse’s tight yoga pants – moving around the caramel-skinned beauty with a few quick steps, she slapped the cream pie right into the girl’s impressively rounded booty.
Denisse squealed in surprise, her eyes snapping open and widening in shock. Katye had struck with enough force to actually sting! She turned to look at the pie affixed to her seat, dislodging the case as she did so, and then laughed, shaking her head in disbelief at Katye’s actions. “My turn,” she said gleefully. Katye’s eyes widened, and she immediately moved her hands behind her back to protect her own backside. Denisse snickered, before slamming the pie directly into Katye’s unprotected face – and only then, with Katye blinded by cream, and her hands moving to clean it her face, directing a retaliatory swat at the rich girl’s jodhpur-clad bottom. She jumped in surprise.
Waverly shook her head, laughing. “A little bit over the line there, Denisse, but I’ll allow it this time. And with all of you getting four points, it’s not just pies, but custard as well. Same partners as last time, starting with Nikki and Raven.”
Nikki looked pretty nervous, entirely understandably given the murderous look that Raven was directing at her. Raven moved towards her, carton in hand… and then stopped turning to look at Waverly.
“Just to clarify,” asked the singer silkily, “but I can put the custard wherever, and she can’t fight back, yeah? You understand that I’m concerned if it comes to a fight given that she’s a brute, right?”
“Yes to the first,” Waverly said. “None of you can move or defend yourself in any way at this stage, and if you do we’ll have to give you some kind of special punishment. This isn’t a custard fight, or whatever – though we might have one of those later!”
Raven grinned, and turned back to face Nikki once more, who now looked even more nervous than before. With a swift move, the rocker pulled out the waistband of Nikki’s flex shorts – Nikki flinched, and clearly had to restrain herself from moving to defend herself – before pouring the custard inside. Nikki squealed in shock as the cold custard oozed over her most intimate areas – and jumped again when Raven released her waistband to snap back against her body.
The tight shorts bulged with the custard trapped within them, having no where to go; Nikki’s every uncomfortable movement merely causing the custard to be pushed elsewhere. At last allowed to move again, the sporty girl quickly pushed at her shorts until the custard spurted out at the bottom, oozing down her long brown legs. She shuddered – but brightened up a little when Waverly handed her a custard carton of her own. She hadn’t wanted to seek revenge before, but this had changed her tune!
But how best to get it? It would be fair and inappropriate to squeeze the custard into Raven’s tights, but they were unfortunately inaccessible under her skirt; and while Raven’s fishnet top was daring and exposing, it also wouldn’t trap custard in the slightest. Raven started to grin cockily as she realised her comparative advantage.
Waverly frowned. “Remember, you can’t move in the slightest, Raven. Nikki gets to apply the custard to you in any way that she wants.”
For Nikki, the penny dropped, and she smiled. With a careful aim, she levelled the carton at Raven’s bare stomach and gave it a sharp squeeze. A stream of custard splurged out with force, splattering against Raven’s tummy and tight leather bra, and she gasped in shock.
But that had just been Nikki working out the principle of the thing – she still had plenty of custard left in the carton! Moving forward, she positioned the carton right between Raven’s legs, under her skirt. Raven’s legs twitched – clearly she wanted to move, but she wasn’t prepared to face the special punishment for doing so. Nikki smiled at Raven, and then squeezed the carton with all her strength, sending a blast of custard straight up the girl’s skirt and straight into her crotch at an impressive velocity. Raven squealed as the custard soaked right through her tights.
Of course, it wasn’t trapped, and most of it quickly dropped thanks to gravity, splattering onto the stage between her feet. Nikki had swiftly moved backwards so as not to catch any of it, and now hefted the carton as she considered how much ammunition she had remaining. Just enough, she thought, carefully positioning the carton between her palms before jamming them together with a sharp burst of force, sending the last of the custard splurting out in a massive blast directly into Raven’s shocked face.
The custard splattered across Raven’s green hair and be-creamed face obscenely as she recoiled in disgust.
Waverly laughed. “Quite the moneyshot to end on, Nikki – congratulations! Now for Denisse and Katye!”
Katye felt a little disappointed. When she’d thought about how best to use the custard earlier, she’d decided that it would be great fun to put it down Denisse’s tight yoga pants – but if she did that now, it’d look like she was following the lead of the green-haired freak! Still, with the cream pie from earlier having been smooshed onto Denisse’s behind, it at least meant that her head was pretty clean.
The decision made, Katye stepped forward and poured the custard right over Denisse’s head, letting it shower over the Colombian beauty’s lovely dark hair and across her gorgeous face, carefully ensuring that she got a maximum of spread and coverage. But to her irritation, Denisse – although initially giving a shriek and flinging her hair about – seemed to take it in a playful spirit, and giggled as she wiped the custard out of her eyes, before taking her own carton with a grin.
Denisse now had to choose where to mess Katye, and it wasn’t that easy – buttoned up as was in her tight riding jacket and jodhpurs, there wasn’t anywhere to start pouring custard inside, while the clothing itself was hard-wearing enough that throwing it over it wouldn’t affect Katye much.
But then she recalled how Katye had complained earlier about the cost of her hairstyle – and her butter blonde hair was exquisite – elaborately curled and styled. What could be more quintessentially British than drowning such a delicate confection under lashings of custard? Denisse grinned more widely still and stepped towards the snooty girl, before suddenly lifting her arm and pouring the custard right over those beautiful locks.
Katye shrieked in horror and outrage, stamping her feet – ah yes, Denisse thought, making sure that some custard also splashed down over those beautifully pedicured and expensively ringed toes. By the time The carton was empty, Katye was wailing, and her hair was lank and dripping. Waverly applauded.
“Oh, well done, everyone! That brings us to the end of the threshold punishments, so we just have the specific penalties left for the four of you! First up, Denisse!”
“It was bad news for South America in round one – and bad news for you! None of your celebrities did poorly enough for to receive a special forfeit, but we still have something in store, so make your way to the booth!”
Once Denisse had reached it, and stood under the pipes, a downpour began; caramel-coloured sauce pouring over the caramel-skinned beauty, trickling into her cleavage and thoroughly coating her. The girl seemed to enjoy it, smiling and dancing in the downpour, and even threw back her head and opened her mouth wide. She almost seemed disappointed when it finished.
“Mmm!” she said happily. “Arequipe! And this is good stuff, too!”
“Yes,” said Waverly, “since you supported so many of your fellow South American celebrities, we thought to return it in kind by covering you in what is more frequently known in Britain as dulce de leche. You seem pretty pleased?”
“It’s sweet and lovely – try some!” she offered a fingertipful to Waverly, who sucked the sweet concoction from the offered digit, blushing as she did so.
“Flirt on your own time, you two,” Adeline shouted, “we need to get onto the next contestant!”
Waverly coughed. “Okay. Next up is Nikki – and I think you’re pretty disappointed by how your nominees did?”
“Yeah,” replied Nikki. “All of my choices were beautiful and talented sportswomen and athletes, yet they’ve done pretty poorly in the tournament. Even athletes that I didn’t choose have done badly as well – I can’t understand why it is!”
“Don’t take it personally,” Waverly commiserated. “You’re a talented athlete yourself, and you’d do pretty good in the GGP in my heart. But I think Adeline has a punishment in store for you.”
“Yes,” Adeline cut in crisply. “Although once again none of your nominees did poorly enough for a special penalty, losing four still deserves some punishment. In light of your choice of athletes, we settled on a special challenge just for you! All you have to do is make it through our obstacle course in thirty seconds!”
Another curtain swept up and Raven laughed to see the obstacle course that awaited the sportswoman. Although the obstacles themselves looked fairly traditional, the ground they were standing in was nothing so much as a thick mud pit. Nikki shook her head ruefully, before stretching and getting ready to go.
The whistle sounded, and she darted off, running straight for the first obstacle – a low net that she would have to wriggle under, practically sliding herself along the mud. It was pretty clear that staying clean wouldn’t be an option here! She crawled and slipped and wriggled along as fast as she could, coating the front of her toned body and clothes thoroughly in a thick layer of mud.
The next obstacle were monkey bars – pretty easy, if it weren’t for her hands now being coated in mud! Nikki swiftly wiped them clean on the only part of her that was still relatively clean, the back of her shorts – with the unfortunate side effect of leaving muddy handprints on her own bum – before clambering up and swinging rapidly across. The athletic girl managed to make it across first try, bringing to the final obstacle – a steep, muddy slope that she would have to scramble up, a particular challenge due to its slick slipperiness – and especially given that Nikki had already taken off her shoes, and was now merely wearing socks.
Nikki looked at the slope, psyching herself up, before making a headlong charge at it, hoping to reach the top by sheer momentum alone. That she didn’t slip immediately and fall flat on her face made testament to her impressive sense of balance, but she still stumbled and fell down a little past halfway up, sliding backwards slightly on her knees. She brought her hands into action, at first dragging herself before she gained traction with her legs and well, desperately scrambling the rest of the way and reaching the top just before her strength gave out; she relaxed and allowed herself to roll down the far side, victorious, clambering to her feet coated head to toe in the thick mud. Waverly applauded.
“How did I do?” Nikki asked.
Adeline laughed. “Unfortunately for you, you failed to complete the course in-“
Nikki shook her head, grinning. “I knew I didn’t have a chance to complete it in that short a time, but I just wanted to see how fast I could do it. And it’s not even like this is the muddiest I’ve ever been – you should see what I looked like after that rain storm last year!”
Adeline looked irritated and the interruption, but waved it off. “Very good. Next up is Raven, who I’m afraid to say will certainly receive a punishment following the disappointing performance of her choice of singers. Although even those of them eliminated didn’t perform too badly in this round, they have a history of poor performances in the tournament, continually disappointing their fans. Please make your way to the booth for your penalty!”
Raven stomped her way over to the booth, turning to face the audience once within it with poor grace.
Adeline continued. “Well, I thought about it, and perhaps there’s a reason for the poor performance of these singers? After all, there are certain foods that are bad for the singing voice… maybe they just forgot? A little too much dairy perhaps? Milk?”
The pipes opened and milk poured over Raven.
“Or cheese?” Globs of cheese sauce splattered all over the singer’s fishnet top as she squealed.
“Chocolate, of course, can be very bad for the voice…” The pipes unleashed a stream of warm liquid chocolate all over Raven, coating her in brown goo from head to toe.
“And too much fried food isn’t good either.” Oil blasted over her, clearing some of the chocolate but making her greasy and slimy all over.
“And the other thing that you need to avoid is spicy food, as well.” With a sound like a popping balloon, a cloud of cayenne powder fell from another pipe, showering all over the thoroughly messed girl, who sneezed frantically as she returned to her seat.
Adeline laughed. “And finally for this part, we have the lovely Katye. And I’m feeling particularly happy right now – why is that, Megan?”
Megan sighed. “I suspect it’s because Katye’s nominee Miranda Kerr performed particularly poorly, being smashed by Anna Kendrick in the biggest defeat margin of this entire round?”
Adeline snapped her fingers. “Ah yes – how could I forget! And of course, that means that you get – as I’m sure you’re more than familiar with – special treatment! First of all, you get to strip off another item of clothing!”
Katye looked livid, but complied, angrily removing her jacket to leave her in a pretty but much less protective frilly white shirt.
“And now for the punishment! You’ll be pleased to know that we carefully avoided any British fare, knowing your distaste for it – instead, to honour Miranda Kerr, we’ve decided to ‘reward’ you with something iconically Australian! And what is more iconically Australian than Vegemite?”
Katye’s delicate brow furrowed. What was Vegemite? At that moment, she felt something on her shoulder, and looked to see a small black blob on her shirt, with a strange, powerful smell. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, and looked up to see where it had come from, an expression of confusion on her face.
Over among her fellow contestants, Fay applauded at the sight – such perfect timing was the very essence of slapstick! For there was much more where that solitary blob had come from.At the very moment that the rich brat looked up, a much larger glob of the stuff fell straight down, directly onto her curious face. She recoiled, screaming in horror and outrage – and immediately regretted it, since in the process she let the foul goop into her mouth. The taste was like nothing she could even have imagined – doubtless some kind of horrid peasant fare! – and she started retching in distaste.
The goopy downpour continued, and with Katye hunched over, the next globs landed on the top and back of her head, splattering across her lovely butter blonde curls and plastering them her to her head, while some more of the goop even managed to ooze its way down the back of her neck and inside her shirt.
Katye went wild. The sensation of the cold, clammy goo trickling down her back was horribly unpleasant and ticklish, and she started to wriggle, trying to catch the stuff with her hands. All this actually served to do was to move her body lewdly around in the continuing splatter of Vegemite from above, which by now had sufficiently soaked her frilly shirt that it started to cling to her curves, making obvious that her breasts were impressive for her slender frame – as well they should be, since they were the finest that her daddy’s money could buy.
The effect on her jodhpurs wasn’t so pronounced, given that they were – as jodhpurs are by design – already extremely tight on her long, slim legs; the coating of Vegemite paste merely served to make them darker and shinier. Katye could barely feel it – particularly in comparison to how it felt soaking through her shirt and coating her feet. The stench of it was now surrounding her like an inescapable miasma, making her feel light-headed; her usually impeccable face and hair were slathered in dark goo; and her clothes clung to her lewdly like a second skin, a humiliation so public that she could scarcely imagine it. At last the downpour ceased and she staggered out of the booth, stunned; the formerly elegant blonde princess reduced to nothing so much as a black blob, albeit one with a particularly inviting silhouette.
She whimpered. Adeline only laughed, though there seemed to be some sympathy in Waverly’s eyes as she directed Katye back to her seat (where her fellow contestants tried to give her a wide berth due to the powerful stench wafting off her).
“And our last contestant,” Waverly announced. “is the lovely Isobel! Please come up!”
The beautiful, bespectacled mature student, dressed professionally in her business suit and skirt, stepped nervously to the front of the stage – though perhaps with at least some relief to put distance between her and poor Katye’s stench.
“Oh dear,” said Waverly, almost apologetically. “it seems that experience didn’t count for much in the GGP this year – your older contestants got put out to pasture! Five of your six nominees didn’t make it through the first round, the worst result of any of our contestants. As a maths student, I’m sure you’ve been able to keep count of what’s coming for you, so let’s get started!
“First of all, for reaching losing three nominees, I need to strip one item of clothing before you get a tasty pie!”
Looking mortified, Isobel removed her suit jacket, leaving her still elegant in her white shirt and skirt combo; she looked rather less so after Waverly slammed a cream pie straight into her beautiful heart-shaped face. The cream splattered all over her lovely dark brown hair, and tumbled across her professional-looking white shirt. The young woman was left wiping at her face so that she could see.
“Next,” Waverly continued, “as the punishment for losing four of your nominees, you have to strip another item of clothing before I top you off with some custard!”
Isobel winced, and crouched down to slip off her heels, leaving her standing on the hard stage floor in her semi-opaque white tights. Waverly grinned, and then poured the carton of custard straight over Isobel’s head, splattering over her elegantly pinned dark hair and down over her clothes, standing out in particular against her dark skirt.
“And for losing five of your nominees – as only you did! – I’m afraid that you’ll need to strip yet another item of clothing before you receive a lovely bucketful of spaghetti hoops!”
Isobel swallowed nervously. Taking off her jacket and her shoes had been pretty easy, but whatever she removed next would be pretty revealing. She certainly hadn’t expected to do so badly in the first round! After a few moment’s hesitation, she bent over to undo her custard-splattered skirt, considering the best of the bad options; her tights, while making the curves of her thighs and bum apparent, were at least opaque enough that they couldn’t be seen through; it certainly beat standing there in her bra! She slipped it down her legs and stepped out of it, standing nervously as the audience cheered.
Waverly wolf-whistled, bucket in hand. “Nice set of pins there, ma’am! And nice choice to take off your skirt – it makes it much easier for me to do this!”
And with that, Waverly pulled Isobel’s tights away from her body and poured the bucket of spaghetti hoops carefully inside, as the mature student gasped in shock. Some of the sauce splurged through the tights, running down her legs, but the rest of it, and the pasta, bulged around her crotch before gravity forced them to run down her legs, sliding over her bare skin.
The effect of the sauce on the tights was to make them rather more sheer than previously, and, of course, more orange than white. The hoops slipped their way down her elegant legs as her tights bulged outward, and Isobel shuddered at the feel of them slipping across her skin. Eventually it stopped, leaving Isobel both uncomfortably messy and rather more exposed than she had anticipated.
Adeline cut in. “Generally speaking, your candidates didn’t do too great. But none of them did particularly poorly – though some got pretty close, others did worse – and so I’ve decided to leave your punishment at this rather than come up with something particular for you. But with just one nominee remaining, you’re teetering extremely close to elimination in round two!
“Honestly, ” she continued. “if there’s one disappointment I have in this round, it’s that none of you were actually eliminated, after we’d gone to all the effort to come up with a lovely apparatus for you to experience, as well! At least, none of you lost six nominations… though one of you did manage to get six points. Could Lana and Grace please make their way back to the front of the stage, at once?”
The two girls came forward, Lana looking confused, although Grace was grinning despite her greasy clothes and clinging t-shirt. She traded a conspiratorial smile with Waverly, knowing that she had nothing to fear at this point.
“Did you hope that we’d forgot, Lana? Although only three of your nominees were eliminated, you had a double-point modifier on all of them, giving you the highest score of any of our contestants this round!”
Lana seethed. “Not by choice! None of them were even the candidates that I’d wanted! These were not part of the rules-“
“You’re not helping your case, dear. In any case, its time for you to receive your punishment for your score, and as per what you agreed to earlier, we’ve asked Grace up to help with it. First of all, you have to strip another item of clothing.”
Lana seethed, but crouched down to remove her strappy high heels, leaving her barefoot on the stage. Meanwhile, Waverly had handed Grace a carton of custard, and the girl decided to go for surprise, pouring the custard over Lana the moment that she took off her shoes, still crouched over. Lana screeched, and tried to quickly stand upright, but in her haste and surprise lost her balance and tumbled over. She instinctively spread her legs to balance, and ended up sprawled across the stage – though at least it wasn’t as humiliating as it could have been due to her wearing a trouser suit rather than a skirt.
It did, however, enable Grace to get excellent coverage with the rest of the custard, splattering it evenly across Lana’s clothes and body as she fumed in outrage. With that over, Lana scrambled to her feet, seething, her lovely professional clothes now the worse for wear.
“That was pathetic, Grace, especially after how I got the custard inside your t-shirt. Or maybe you secretly liked letting the audience see your boobs once your shirt got all clingy?”
Grace just shook her head. “I didn’t need to try and pour the custard within your shirt or whatever. Maybe you forgot, Lana, but you’ve still got more punishments to come – the audience is going to see much more of you anyway!”
Lana went pale as Adeline cut in. “Grace is of course correct. You need to remove one more item of clothing, and then she’ll get another chance to mess you up. Hurry up!”
“No, this isn’t fair,” Lana protested. “Other girls have more clothes on than me – I’m not wearing tights or socks or anything! You never warned us that we’d have to strip off the clothes that we wore onto the show!”
“Because we wanted you to wear normal clothes to best convey your personalities – if we’d warned you, we’d have probably ended up introducing sixteen sexy woolen blobs all wearing twelve jumpers.” Adeline paused. “Well, maybe not sixteen. But most of you would’ve, which would have been incredibly boring! In any case, while there’s some variation in what you’re wearing, you all have a similar number of layers. And Jak already showed off her bra, despite getting only four points to your six! If you don’t hurry, I’ll give you a penalty – and you’ll be stripping two items, not one!”
Lana’s eyes widened in horror. How could this have happened? Her strategy was perfect! And now instead of a triumphant victory and demonstration of her skills, she was going to end up messy on television – and in a state of undress that she was definitely not comfortable with having on public record!
It wasn’t as if she had much choice here – she wasn’t prepared to show off her bra like that bimbo Jak! And at least her shirt was long enough to conceal most of her knickers… but she’d still be showing off all of her long, pale legs. There was a reason that she favoured well-fitted trouser suits that show’d the shape of her legs while revealing little. But with no choice, she undid her trousers and hesitatingly slipped them down – or, to the audience, slipped off her trousers tantalisingly slowly – before stepping out of them, blushing slightly, and careful to keep her shirt pulled low as she did so.
As a fellow redhead, Grace almost sympathised – she too found it all too easy to burn in the sun, and Lana’s milky pale pins told a similar story, almost seeming to glow in the bright studio lights. But the larger part of her had no pity to spare for the bitchy law student who had sought to humiliate her at every turn – and hey, at least Lana was about to get some colour on her legs, right?
Grace poured the bucket straight over Lana’s head, spaghetti hoops and sauce splashing down. It was a much greater volume than the custard had been, and the thinner tomato sauce, splashing over Lana’s shirt, made it as clingy as Grace’s t-shirt had been – and additionally translucent enough that the outline of Lana’s bra started to become teasingly apparent.
The hoops and sauce sliding over Lana’s smooth legs were a gorgeous combination, the bright orange of the sauce contrasting magnificently against Lana’s pale pins. Lana whimpered to see how tightly her shirt clung to her body, and plucked at it in an effort to make it less obvious – a futile attempt, given that her shirt was now so soaked through with orange tomato sauce that the audience could even perceive the outline of her belly button. She was so busily examining her own body that she didn’t even realise that the bucket had run empty – though Grace dropping it over her head gave her something of a clue. She pulled it off in utter mortification.
Adeline carried on implacably. “And for six points…” Lana’s eyes widened, and her arms crossed over her chest protectively. Adeline laughed.
“Well, actually, we didn’t have anything specific prepared for six points, since we weren’t expecting anyone to get six points and not be eliminated. So I’ve decided to give you a choice: you can either receive a standard reward for getting one more point – remove another item of clothing, and then receive a further messy punishment inflicted by Grace- I was thinking the pillory, perhaps? – or we can instead just give you the punishment that we were going to inflict on anyone eliminated in this round, and actually make use of the apparatus we built. How about it?”
Lana was almost comical in her haste to reply. “The second one, the second one!” Adeline smirked.
“Excellent. Thank you to Grace for providing excellent entertainment so far – you can return to your seat now. Waverly? You know what to do.”
Lana looked uncertain, realising that she might well have been tricked into making the wrong choice. But surely it couldn’t be worse that being pilloried in lingerie, right?
She wasn’t so certain when she saw the apparatus. It looked like nothing so much as some kind of clockpunk mechanical nightmare of a ducking stool, set above a wide and deep transparent-sided pool filled with crystal-clear water. Waverly ushered Lana over to a ladder at the side.
“Megan designed this!” said Waverly proudly. “Brilliant, isn’t it? She calls it the Bucking Stool – we had all sorts of plans for it! She’ll be wanting your feedback afterwards!” She cheerfully helped Lana to sit on rather precarious plastic seat, and the moment that the law student had planted her behind down on it it moved, swinging out across the water until she was sitting over the centre, supported by a complex array of mechanical arms. Lana wobbled unsteadily, clinging uncomfortably to uncertain handholds under the base of the seat, and all too aware that this precarious position, her sauce-smeared legs dangling over the water, left her shirt hiked up and exposed more of her underwear than she would have preferred.
Adeline spoke up. “Since you aren’t actually eliminated, let’s make a challenge of this! I’ll give you a bonus in the next round if you last, ooh… a minute. Go!”
The machine activated with a deep vibrating hum that reverberated right through the seat, not entirely unpleasantly for Lana. The arm ponderously shifted, dipping the seat lower, just enough that her toes dipped into the water. She shrieked.
“Oh god, it’s so cold! Why is it that cold?” But she had no further time to react – the next dip of the seat dipped all of her feet, and then up to her knees, and the pattern of the bucking was becoming steadily less predictable. The next upswing was violent enough to make Lana’s stomach turn over, and would have flung her off if she hadn’t maintained a white-knuckled grip on the seat.
The bounce down, by contrast, barely dipped her feet again, leaving her more than a little confused. The hum of the machine seemed to rise to a new intensity, increasing the vibrations that she felt through the seat. Lana shivered a little – and then even more, as the next bob down, with a sharp splash, plunged her into the cold water past her waist.
Sometimes a sharp fling upwards, other times a deeper plunge – sometimes quick, sometimes slower – the lack of pattern was leaving Lana more than a little bewildered, while the vibrations penetrating into her nether regions from the seat she perched on were having an altogether different effect – all the more so when they increased in intensity again!
Megan had sought to combine the ducking stool and the bucking bronco to make this strange hybrid offspring, but seemed to have inadvertently factored in some other adults-only surrogate somewhere along the way. Lana bit her lip, trying to maintain her concentration; quite subconsciously, she started to spread her legs, heedless of the fact that she was exposing her green satin knickers to the audience in the process.
The next bob submerged her entirely, plunging her under the water briefly; she emerged with her shirt now entirely transparent, her matching green bra now entirely visible through the thin, drenched material. She no longer particularly seemed to care, looking almost lost in a vision; her eyes unfocused and starting to roll back in her head. Even as she continued to maintain a desperate grip with her hands, her pale legs were splayed open as far as they could go and she seemed to be rubbing herself on the seat.
The machine froze at its highest point for a second, leaving the once-classy law student in plain view, high above the water. Then it dropped quickly, dipping right into the water and keeping Lana under even as it continued to buck frantically, only occasionally raising her head above the water for a frantic breath. When it eventually raised her back out of the water fully, the girl was gasping, and not just for air; the cold water seemed not to have dampened her ardour in the slightest, and she was now frantically grinding into the seat, only the whites of her eyes visible.
The climax was disappointing in its aversion of one; the constant dunkings into cold water and the distraction caused by the seat’s vibrations had served to loosen her grip sufficiently that the next jerk of the apparatus flung her gently into the air, plopping back down into the water with a splash. In the transparent sides of the pool through the crystal clear water, Lana’s expressions were visible: initially dazed, swiftly followed by confusion, and then disappointment and dissatisfaction at the denial – all obliterated in a terrible moment of realisation, with absolute mortification and humiliation quick on its heels.
She floundered to the surface of the water, her face almost as red as her hair, completely at a loss for words.
“That looks like positive feedback to me, Megan!” quipped Adeline. “And that’s our show, everyone! Join us soon for our preview and preshow of Round Two!”
As she so often does, Suzi walks onto the Slop Drop set to plenty of whooping and cheering and makes her way to the fancy black swivel chair at the centre of the grungy industrial-aesthetic stage. “We’ve got a bit of an interesting predicament tonight, ladies and gentlemen,” she says, crossing one leg over the other. As usual, she’s barefoot, with her legs clad in some rather tight black leather trousers, and her upper body in an orange vest top. Her make-up is suitably minimalist – not that it stops her wide green eyes from almost shimmering. “We’ve seen rivalry after rivalry between members of two different bands but tonight, we’re going slightly further. We’ve got two members of bands representing entire genres. Let’s meet the first contestant.”
A booming, dramatic voice reverberates through the room as a rather well-toned woman walks onto the stage. Her purple hair is fairly straight and reaches down to her shoulders. Some might have considered her outfit to be rather brave for the kind of show they were on – a rather tight black mini-dress that doesn’t leave very much of her slender body to the imagination. “From Clean Bandit, cellist Grace Chatto.”
A woman with long, wavy orange hair walks out, dressed in a white vest top and black jeans, her feet in a pair of ankle boots. Compared to Grace, it’s a more modest look, but the woman has still made the effort to make her great ginger mane shine beneath the studio lights and wear just enough makeup to make her eyes and lips really pop. “From Epica, singer Simone Simons,” booms the doomy voice.
