This story is purely a work of fiction. It 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.
This story has adult themes.
Scarlett shoved back the panel to reveal the dim recess, in which the unassuming fairground waltzer was parked, mounted on tracks that stretched off down a foreboding tunnel into the dark unknown. “Here we are!”, she announced, “The Trip Around the Campus!”
Santi felt a fresh surge of adrenaline wash over her as she clapped eyes on the vehicle. Before she knew it, the dingy corridors of the campus melted around her, and she found herself in the oppressive, humid heat of the Floridian summer. Her ears were filled with the playful shrieking and laughter of other kids, the buzzing and whirring of gaudy amusements, and the calls of a hotdog seller advertising his wares. The squat fairground car had grown so that the seat stood level with her eyeline… or was it that she had shrunk? Her black bodysuit was gone, and she was standing in a “Little Marine” T-shirt, camo shorts and sneakers. Her long hair was in pixie pigtails.
Where Samantha and Scarlett had once stood either side of Santi, two male figures loomed over her. One was a spotty youth, probably younger than her present age, wearing the staff uniform of the theme park. The other was the imposing, muscular figure of her father.
“Sir, ah’m afraid your daughter is too young for this ride”, the teenager ventured.
“You saying my kid is a pansy?!”, barked Santi’s father in a gruff, hispanic-tinged tone. “You saying she ain’t got what it takes?”
“N..not at all, S..sir”, stammered the youth. “It’s just that we got rules we gotta keep to… safety regulations, y’know.”
“I ain’t got no time for none of your commie regulations”, returned Santi’s father. “I left Cuba on a homebuilt raft to escape that shit. Served in the Marines, ‘spect my kids to do the same. How’s my daughter gonna pick up a gun and defend this great nation if yah don’t even let her on a poxy ride, huh?”
“A..ah wish ah could, Sir, but ah’s just following rules here…”
“To hell with the rules! Them rules are part of a commie plot to turn our youth into spineless pansies!” The lantern-jawed, broad-shouldered military man squared up to the scrawny youth. “By looks of it the plot is succeeding! You could use a spell of military service and a haircut, sonny!”
The young Santi peered down the tunnel to where colourful cartoon characters revolved, and jets of foam and slime intermittently fired across. Amidst her eager excitement, a twinge of apprehension set in, but she quickly suppressed it. To express any such qualms in the presence of father was unthinkable.
“Pop’s right, Mister!”, she called up to the ride-operator. “Ah can go on this ride. Ain’t nothing to be ‘fraid of! My brothers all done it!”
“You heard the girl!”, growled Santi’s father. “Now quit with this bull and let her on this goddamn ride!”
The beleaguered youth looked down helplessly at the little girl. “You really sure you wanna do this, sweetie?”
As Santi gazed up at the teenager’s worried frown, feelings of doubt once again crept into her mind. Her words caught in her throat.
“Watcha waiting for?”, demanded her father. “It’s the only way into Room 101. You wanna rescue Kim, dontcha?”
“But why?” The youth argued back, suddenly gaining confidence. “She’s part of the system. Leave her to her fate!”
The sweltering heat relented and the babbling crowds faded. In front of Santi’s eyes, the two men morphed back into Samantha and Scarlett, who stared at her impatiently.
“Earth to Santi? Hello!?”, Samantha chimed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Sure I do, Mister!”, Santi blurted. “Ain’t no ride that frightens me! Ah’m a big girl!”
Samantha and Scarlett looked at her and then at each other in bemusement.
Santi blushed slightly as the present caught up with her. “I mean… yes, let’s do it”, she said in her most grown-up voice.
“This is one hell of an inconvenient girl-crush you’ve developed”, grumbled Samantha. “But why do I need to come? I couldn’t give two hoots about Kim’s welfare… and I’ve already shown I’ll be no use as a fighter.”
“Because I can’t face this ride alone!”, Santi admitted. “I need you with me, to hold my hand, to help me be brave… just like you did in the Pie Pod. Come on Sam, I thought all this mess means nothing to you.”
“True, it doesn’t…”, Samantha, like the young Santi, didn’t want to appear a wuss. “But I mean… I’ve only got my undies on.”
The pair simultaneously turned and gazed fixedly at Scarlett’s bodysuit.
“Not a chance!”, responded Scarlett. “I have to leave on urgent business.” And besides, you’d only rip it like you did the last one. “Now hurry up and get in the car.”
Santi took a deep breath and climbed into the waltzer before her fear could get the better of her. Muttering to herself, Samantha followed. “Budge up!” What with her pudgy figure, the seat proved to be a tight fit for the pair of them.
Smirking as she envisaged the journey that lay ahead of the two girls, Scarlett laid a hand on the lever. “Last chance to change your minds…”, she warned them.
“Just do it!”, shouted Santi. Semper Fidelis, Santasia, Semper Fidelis.
Scarlett obliged. In the tunnel ahead, strings of fairy lights lit up, dry ice mist billowed from vents, and ‘School’s Out For Summer’ began blaring out.
“Ooooo, I didn’t know it did that!”, remarked Scarlett. “How exciting!”
The in-flight entertainment was somewhat lost on the passengers. As the vehicle accelerated away into the æther, a panicking Santi as good as lunged herself at Samantha, who squawked in protest.
Chuckling to herself, Scarlett re-closed the panel. She was sorely tempted to head up to the quarters and watch the journey unfold on the big screen, but with the possibility of the Angels regrouping, it was too risky to stay on Campus any longer. She had heard rumours about what the Angels did to traitors from their own ranks, and she didn’t fancy hanging around to see if they were true. And in any case, she had plenty to ground to make up; Chrissy was likely miles away by now.
“Ah, das ist prima!”, Erika enthused, as she piped the finishing touches of icing onto the heads of Emma and Louise. “Cruella would be jealous! How do you like it girls?”
Her victims offered only whimpers and groans in response. Even Emma’s bittersweet wit had been exhausted. The giant mixing bowl, still revolving, was filled up to their necks with the semi-set cake mix. Ripples emanated outwards across the surface, generated by the wriggling of the girls in response to the itching powder. Their heads had been turned into a pair of creamy blobs, so that their blinking eyes and gulping mouths were their only discernible features.
“Glad to hear it”, Erika nodded with approval. She placed a glacé cherry on the top of each whipped-cream head. “I’m just going to leave you to set… which means it’s somebody else’s turn to have fun!”
Andrea took this as her cue to beg once more for her freedom. “Please Erika, let me out! I must have been in here for over an hour!”
“Over an hour?! Awwww dear!”, Erika crooned sarcastically, strutting over to the bin with a malicious grin on her face. “Bit smelly in there, is it?”
“Yes!”, Andrea griped.
“Sloppy, slimy and revolting?”
“Very! I’ve got goodness-knows-what in my you-know-where!”
“Oh? Well in that case, I’d better leave you in there for a bit longer to try and guess what that goodness-knows-what is!” Erika sniggered. “But don’t worry, I’ve got something that’ll take your mind off the smell.”
“What’s that?”
“Something that smells even worse!” Erika fetched a bucket from Room 101′s seemingly limitless supplies. “Pig slop!”
Andrea’s eyes boggled with horror. “No!! Not that! Come on Erika, you surely wouldn’t… pleeease no!!”
“Wouldn’t I.” Erika raised the bucket above Andrea’s head. “I did tell you you’d get it worst of the lot, didn’t I?”, she taunted. “Now, repeat after me, ‘I’m a filthy pig and I want my slop’.”
“I’m a filthy pig and I want my slop!”, Andrea recited with breathless urgency, seemingly under the impression that saying the words would her let off the hook.
“Ok piggy, here you go!” Erika discharged the bucket with the agonising slowness that can only be achieved with a victim who cannot move or shield themselves. Andrea let out a sickened moan as the slop hit the crown of her already sullied hair and flowed radially outwards. Within a few seconds the straw-coloured mank was flowing over her neck and face.
Watching from the mixing bowl with a mixture of horror, fascination and guilty schadenfreude, Emma and Louise suddenly felt a lot less unfortunate in their own situation. Even the doleful Kim, tied to the Hot Seat and slathered in brown gunge, seemed to brighten as she witnessed this comeuppance of the girl who had originally ensnared her. None of the watchers were certain whether the greyish-yellow goop really was genuine pig slop, but even if it wasn’t, it certainly appeared not to be pleasant if Andrea’s reaction was anything to go by. Her eyes and mouth were clamped tightly shut, and she wished she could do the same with her nostrils and ears.
After some considerable time, the bucket’s contents were exhausted. Erika banged out the final dregs, and then placed the inverted bucket over Andrea’s head as a parting humiliation. Andrea’s groans of disgust could be heard echoing inside the bucket as Erika smugly walked away.
“Bon appetit!”, Erika smirked. “Now… who’s next?”
Trembling in Hot Seat, Kim knew the answer very well.
“Santi, I don’t mind you holding my hand”, Samantha winced, “but I’d prefer you not crush it.”
Santi wasn’t listening. “Semper Fidelis, Semper Fidelis…”, she intoned, out of time with the music.
A piercing hiss sounded and an unidentified jet whizzed out of the wall at them, causing Santi to scream in fright. Samantha screamed too, not in fright but in pain; Santi’s iron grip had tightened another notch.
“Right, that’s it! I’m not holding your hand any longer!” Samantha prized open Santi’s digits and gasped with relief as she yanked her smarting hand to safety. She turned her attention to the stringy substance that had sprayed onto them. “Look, it’s only silly string – how pathetic!” She pulled several strands out of her hair and flung them to the floor in annoyance.
“Semper Fidelis, Semper Fidel-AAIIGGHH!!” Santa screamed again as an explosion sounded in the ceiling and confetti fluttered down.
“This is so lame”, snorted Samantha. “What next? A party bag to take home?”
In perfect time with the start of the song’s chorus, the car ploughed through a colourful strip-door into what were evidently the campus kitchens. A hatch opened in the ceiling above Samantha, through which gallons of baked beans rained down. In an instant, the girl’s pasty-white skin became a shiny orange, as did her white bra and panties. The beans crawled slowly in their hundreds through her saturated hair and over her torso, becoming lodged in every fold of her not-so-trim figure. Santi, by contrast, was largely unscathed.
“You didn’t get any!”, huffed Samantha, spitting away beans from her mouth. “That is so unfair!”
As if to redress the injustice, another hatch opened above Santi, dumping a massive amount of coleslaw upon her. Her bodysuit, which up until this point had remained fairly black, was transformed to white by the mayonnaise, and her raven hair likewise. The chopped vegetables were piled high on her head and shoulders.
“Happy now?!”, she flashed back at Samantha, trying to mask her terror with humour. Squirming at the sensation of the mayonnaise seeping into her bodysuit, she brushed off the coleslaw as best she could, inadvertently transferring it onto Samantha.
“Hey! Don’t put it on me!”, Samantha protested, flicking beans at Santi in retaliation. Before their bickering could escalate further, a trough upended above them, dumping a load of semolina into their laps. The distribution of mess was equitable this time, although it was still worse for Samantha, since her legs were bare while Santi’s were clothed.
Next, the girls felt the chill of night air around their bodies as the car sped out through a back entrance and into a yard.
“I think there’s something on the track ahead of us!” Santi warned, her keen vision trained ahead.
Samantha squinted where Santi pointed, but couldn’t make anything out in the gloom. “I don’t see anything. Why would they put something on the track, anyway?”
“Dunno, but there’s definitely something there. DUCK!!” Santi crouched forward as far she could in the car.
Samantha didn’t follow the advice. “Santi, just take a chill pill!”, she sighed. “I can assure you, there’s noth…”
SPLUDGE!! The car made impact with a giant heap of compost, which engulfed the vehicle in a brown tidal wave. Samantha was silenced mid-sentence as she took a full frontal covering of the horticultural slop.
“GROOO!” Samantha spat in disgust. “That is vile! Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I did”, protested Santi, cautiously sticking her head up. “Look out! There’s something else!” She ducked down once more.
“What? Where?” Samantha soon found out as the car smashed through a pile of grass-cuttings, which stuck all over her. She was even more ticked-off when Santi re-emerged from her crouched position, once again relatively unscathed.
The car re-entered the building, by which time ‘Baggy Trousers’ was playing. Samantha and Santi now found themselves in a hall of mirrors, designed perhaps to disorientate them, or maybe to goad them with a multi-angled view of their messy states thus far. Samantha was duly goaded, tutting as she surveyed her sullied form, still wriggling at the itchy sensation of the grass-cuttings all over her. “Pleughh!”, she rasped, still spitting grass from her mouth. “Santi, this is the last time I help you out over a crush!”, she grumbled.
Santi wasn’t listening. Instead, her eyes were fixed ahead, to where a veritable blizzard of gunge and foam was brewing. From the ceiling, several dozen showers of coloured slime were snaking from side to side, Panel Beaters style, while from the sides, foam-cannons fired across with increasing intensity. It was a set-up uncannily reminiscent of the fateful Fun House ride from her childhood. But although terrifying, the sight alone may have been endurable. It was the smell – a synthetic whiff of artificial colourings and sodium bicarb – that decisively broke Santi’s nerve.
“Sorry Sam, I just can’t face this! I’ve gotta get out of here!” Santi squeezed out of her seat and stood up in the car, her eyes scanning the bewildering array of mirrors for an exit.
“What?!”, Samantha exclaimed. “Where are you going? Santi, sit down, for goodness sake!”
Reverting to her junior self once more, Santi heard Samantha’s protestations through the voices of the fairground employee and her father.
“Sweetie, sit down please. It ain’t safe for you to do that”, urged the youth.
“Santasia, do as you’re told and sit down NOW!”, commanded her father. “Don’t make me go in there and getcha!”
Looking above her, Santi saw her chance for escape in the form of a pipe running over the track. She clambered up onto the seat and outstretched her arms. She judged that she would be able to reach it if she timed her jump just right.
“SANTASIA!! GET YOUR ASS BACK ON THAT SEAT!”, bellowed her father.
“Screw you Pop!”, Santi muttered as her powerful calves and toned glutes launched her effortlessly from the car. Her hands locked around the pipe, and despite being slippery from the gunge, managed to clasp on. Whether the pipe could hold on was less certain; it bowed alarmingly under her weight.
Far from happy at the thought of being left alone, Samantha grabbed onto Santi’s ankles. “If you’re leaving, I’m leaving too!”
Unable to take the additional weight of Samantha, the pipe burst open at a joint, showering Samantha with blue slime and causing her to lose her grip on Santi and tumble back onto the seat. Santi was left behind, clinging to the sagging pipe. As her perspective returned to the present, she felt a growing sense of dismay and shame, as she realised she had let her phobia get the better of her.
“Sam!”, she called. “Rescue Kim for me! Please Sam, rescue her!”
“On my own?! You have got to be kidding me!”, huffed Samantha, just before arriving at the first set of foam sprayers. In a matter of seconds she was transformed from muddy brown to frothy white.
“SANTI!!”, Samantha spluttered, as she advanced into the rainbow deluge of the slime nozzles. “I will get you back for this!”
I wonder how they’re getting on?, Scarlett chuckled to herself as her car purred towards the gates. So preoccupied was she in her daydream that she didn’t notice the figure ahead of her until the last second. She slammed on the brakes.
Ah-ha! Is that you, Chrissy?
Scarlett’s hopes that she had located her prey faded as the pedestrian drew closer and was revealed to be male. Some perv who’s heard about the all-girl campus, she surmised, regarding the slightly unkempt man with disdain. She wound down the window. “This is University property you’ve wandered into. Can I help you?”
Richard bent down slightly by her driver window. “Er, hi, I’ve come looking for my girlfriend…”
“We don’t allow visitors”, Scarlett curtly informed him. “Especially not boyfriends.”
“You don’t understand… I believe she’s in trouble.”
“Believe me, they’ll all be in trouble come the morning”, Scarlett sagely assured him. “But out of interest, which one is she? Let me guess… you look like a bit of a boffin type, so maybe it’s Juliet.”
“No no…”
“Abbie? Nice girl but hopelessly naïve. Or maybe Donna? A bit too nice to be believable, if you ask me.”
“No, my Girlfriend isn’t a P…”
“Surely not Meena! I don’t believe any man could stand that gobby bitch for more than five minutes. And I doubt it’s Chrissy; you don’t seem quite her calibre”, Scarlett remarked sniffily.
“Don’t talk to me about Chrissy”, Richard seethed. “She just stole my car!”
Scarlett’s ears pricked up at this news. “Which way did she go? What’s the numberplate?”
Richard told her the registration number. “She went left, heading away from town. Listen, you couldn’t call the police for me, could you? My phone was in the car.”
“Oh, I don’t want the police involved. I have a more personal form of justice in mind.” Scarlett put the car back into gear. “Cheers for the info!”
“About my girlfriend…” Richard began, but Scarlett’s tail-lights were already speeding off into the darkness. Richard sighed with frustration and continued on foot towards the Campus building.
Erika delicately stroked a finger through the gunge on Kim’s face, inciting Kim to flinch away as far as her restraints would allow her. “Been a bad night, hasn’t it hon?”, Erika commented in a tone of sarcastic faux sympathy. “First of all, you let that amateur get the better of you.” She gestured over to the bin were a whining Andrea was contorting herself in a fruitless effort to get the bucket off her head.
“So did you”, Kim reminded Erika.
“…and then, your girlfriend dumps you for being too dull!” Erika forcibly turned Kim’s head to face her, so that Kim’s face was almost between her bosoms. “But don’t worry, because you and I are going to have some quality time together. I remember how much fun we had when you were hanging out in my bathroom!”
“Actually, I preferred it when you were hanging out in the dining room!”, Kim retorted defiantly.
Erika ignored her. “How I had you around my little finger!”. she cooed, beginning to gyrate around the captive Kim as if performing a lap dance. “How utterly horny you were in your helpless position!”
“And the ordeal I put you through didn’t turn you on in the slightest?”, Kim enquired testingly.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but nope”, Erika lied.
“So you didn’t masturbate at the earliest opportunity afterwards?”
Erika momentarily halted her gyrations, her body stiffening as she recalled her shameful orgasm in Wamdale’s guest bathroom. Had the old lech secretly observed her and told Kim? Or did Kim just have a sharp intuition? Either way, if Kim hadn’t known already, Erika’s reaction provided the answer.
“Thought so”, Kim smirked, basking in her momentary victory. “Why was that, Erika? Do you secretly enjoy being dominated? Does it excite you to be be faced with those vulnerabilities you work so hard to keep hidden, day in day out?”
“SHUT UP!!”, Erika’s temper snapped. “You vill regret zose remarks! Ve vill see who like being dominated. Ve vill see vunce and for all…” She paused. “Vot’s zat noise?”
Everybody listened attentively. From somewhere outside the chamber came the faint echoes of music.
“It’s the Trip Around Campus!”, Emma whispered to Louise. “Somebody’s taking a trip!”
Suddenly, the music became much louder as a panel opened up in the wall. Seconds later, a fairground waltzer emerged from the opening, gliding on a pair of rails that were set into the floor. Inside the car sat a vaguely humanesque blob, coated from head to toe in white foam and multicoloured gunk. The blob was completely unidentifiable, although seemed to be of a slightly tubby build (either that or just had a very thick coating of goo).
The car ground to a halt, as everyone stared at the blob. The blob wiped her eyes and made an abortive attempt to slick the gunge out of her hair, before nervously addressing her audience. “Er… hi there. Hope I’m not disturbing anything.”
“Samantha?!?”, Kim recognised the blob’s voice. “What are you doing here?”
Samantha felt very sheepish, especially so as she observed Erika’s toned physique advancing towards her. “I’ve come to rescue you, Kim”, she explained.
