This story is pretty long, and serves as set-up for the proper ending of the A-Z. As such, this part contains no WAM, unless you want to include the fact Tiffany is already covered in 26 different messes. It’s pretty much the set-up for the poll that’s going to be up either later tonight or tomorrow, and the gunging that will result from it. Hope you like it anyway.
Previously on the A-Z of Gunge II:
Tiffany was a plucky young girl. A few hours ago, she beautiful porcelain-white skin and long, silky jet-black hair. Now both her hair and her body were coated with twenty-six different kinds of assorted gunk, glop and general mess. It was impossible to tell that under the mess, her slender body was clad in a white tank-top and blue denim shorts. At her feet was yet more of the mire of mixed muck, which made horrible slurping noises as she stood up from her chair, leaving yet more muck in her wake.
“Well done, Tiffany,” smiled Amanda, the ‘friend’ who had dished out not only the twenty-six messes that covered Tiffany’s body, but a matching set on various celebrities. Well, some celebrities and a lot of heavy metal singers, anyway. Amanda was completely clean, and dressed in the same outfit Tiffany had on beneath all that muck, only rather than going barefoot she still had a pair of white trainers and black ankle socks on. She was a bit taller and curvier than Tiffany, and had short, fringed blonde hair, with green eyes as the focus of her rather youthful face. “You managed to get through all twenty-six messes. How do you feel?”
“Like I desperately need a shower,” answered the gungee. “Also, you owe me big time!”
A familiar, Cardiff-accented voice came from stage left. “Funny you should mention that, love!” The voice’s owner stepped forwards, revealing herself to be an incredibly pale woman with colourless eyes, a curvy body and long blue hair in dreadlocks, tied back into a sort of ponytail. She wore some sort of black leather corset with matching skirt, combat boots and bright blue leggings. In her right hand was a big, black towel, which she promptly threw over to Tiffany.
And now, the conclusion:
“Who are you?” Tiffany asked, catching the towel and wiping her face and hands.
“Natalie Orwell, but my friends mostly call me ‘r1vetgrrl’. I chose the name when I was fifteen. Don’t laugh. Anyway, I’m the head of the Panicked Productions Build Team, so it was my job to design and oversee construction of that fine barrel tipper,” explained the Welsh albino.
Tiffany stared daggers at Natalie. “So it’s ultimately you who’s responsible for getting me into this state!”
“Woah, love! No, while I may have built the thing, you brought it on yourself by volunteering and Amanda did the deed. However, if I were to use your logic, I could also be ultimately responsible for you getting a bit of messy payback, if you so wanted.”
“Oh fuck…” Amanda muttered under her breath.
The messy brunette raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“I know where there’s a dunk tank, and I could easily rig up some mess droppers onto it. There’s always plenty of gunge available here too,” Natalie explained as an evil grin manifested on Tiffany’s face.
“Now hold on a moment! I was never told about this!” protested Amanda.
Tiffany giggled. “It’s only fair! You gunged me, so I should get to gunge you too!”
The blonde woman looked to Natalie, who only chuckled. Realising that she was totally outnumbered, Amanda heaved a sigh and looked at the ground dejectedly. “I suppose you should get a shot at me, then. I have a condition, though.”
“Go on…” Natalie raised an eyebrow.
“I want someone to get dunked with me. There’s no way I’m going in on my own.”
“Not it!” Tiffany declared, crossing her arms impatiently. “What about you, blue?”
Natalie shook her head. “Nope, I’m staying out of it. I do have an idea, though. Wait there.”
Panicked Productions’ Head Office
Ivy Lindgren was a shrewd, calculating businesswoman whom Mr. Vanilla had personally appointed as the new head of Panicked Productions. She was sat at her desk in her very ornate office, staring through her glasses at a very intimidated girl with pink hair. Ivy herself was a brunette with her hair tied up into a tight bun, thin body dressed in a black trouser suit and piercing green eyes. “Samantha, I’m not an unfair woman, but your mistake made our production company look like an utter joke out there,” said Ivy, her native Stockholm accent suppressed to the point of being hardly noticeable. “Tell me, what would you do in my position?” Before the pink-haired girl could answer, there was a knock at the door. “Actually, hold that thought.” She stood up and walked over to the door, high-heels thudding on the carpet. “Ah, Miss Orwell, do come in. I trust all is well with the A-Z Show now?”
Natalie stepped through the door. “Yes, very well thanks. All twenty-six celebrities have now been gunged and Tiffany’s raring to give Amanda her just desserts.”
“Very good! I knew you were the right person for the job despite your…” Ivy gripped the tip of one of Natalie’s deep blue dreads. “Your… quirks. Nevertheless, your sub-par subordinate and I were going to discuss what to do in the way of disciplinary action.”
Samantha, the ‘sub-par subordinate’ lowered her head. The way Ivy was talking made it sound as if she wasn’t supposed to be hearing the discussion, like she didn’t really matter. She fiddled with the buttons on her polo shirt nervously and looked at her shoes.
“I have a suggestion, but you’re the boss,” said Natalie.
“I think it would be appropriate to give Samantha additional training. In addition, until she not only takes but passes an examination in mess preparation, I will be suspending her from her duties.”
Samantha gasped. “Please no! I need to work!”
“With respect, Ms. Lindgren, I don’t think all that is necessary for what was essentially a misunderstanding,” said Natalie, looking to the pink-haired girl on the chair.
“So what do you propose, Orwell?”
“I’ll do anything! Just let me keep working! I’ll do better, I promise!”
Natalie smiled. “Amanda’s demanded that we don’t just gunge her, but someone else too. You can see where this is going, can’t you?”
Samantha bit her bottom lip. “I can,” she said, mulling over her options. She had got other clothes with her, but only jeans and a t-shirt. She knew what was waiting for Amanda, and chances were it would get her very messy. Like, it would not only trash her outerwear, but probably her underwear too. At the same time, she really did need the money that working would provide, and having to take additional classes and examinations on top of her university work would only add more stress. It was a tricky one to call. “Would it be possible to borrow like, a swimsuit or a change of underwear?”
“Honestly? Probably not,” said Natalie.
“Yes, I rather doubt it myself,” Ivy added.
Samantha scratched her head, teasing her pink pixie-cut hair. “I just don’t know. I mixed some of that gunge this morning and it looked horrible! I would not want to go in there, especially if I couldn’t change after!”
“You’re not scared of the gunge, are you?” Natalie stuck her tongue out.
Ivy tutted. “That’s just what I need – another employee who suffers from what I call ‘natrophobia’!”
“I’m not scared, alright? I just don’t want to get the bus home with my knickers sticking to my parts!” Samantha turned red with embarrassment as she said it. “But, I suppose if it means I can keep working then I’ll just have to deal with it.”
Panicked Productions Testing Area
“Welcome to my playground!” Natalie beamed as she entered the test area, along with Tiffany, Amanda and Samantha. “Sammy, you know this place already, but for the rest of you, here’s where I construct and tamper with all the various gadgets, games and gunk that go into our shows.” The test area was a wide space with various parts scattered around. Some were obviously things like gunge tanks, dunk mechanisms, inflatables of some description, buckets, gunge ingredients and all sorts of things beyond the comprehension of absolutely anyone who wasn’t the Welsh wonder in charge of turning all the components into a TV show. “In the back is a little pet project of mine. It’s a dunk tank with some overhead pre-dunk messes.”
“Ooh, like the fairground series of Get Your Own Back!” Tiffany cooed.
“Mmm, sort of! You’ll see what I mean in a moment,” said Natalie, leading the group to the tank. It was pretty big, easily a few metres wide and a metre deep. In it was a thick, purple gunge. Sure enough, as Natalie had said, there were a few small vats of mess poised above the chair, though they were a bit different from Get Your Own Back. For one thing, they were all cylindrical, unmarked and made of some kind of opaque black plastic. For another, they were on some kind of spindle, with just one positioned right above the seat at any given time. “Hey, Sammy, do you remember the little poll I had Suzi and Nicki doing the other day?”
Samantha thought back. “Yeah, I do. You had all of the messes listed and we had to pick our favourites, right?”
Natalie nodded. “That’s right! All but one of the twenty-six, listed alphabetically, skipping our usual gunge of course since that’s in the main vat. Well, I filled the tubes up there with the five most popular selections, and you two are going to get them!”
Tiffany burst out laughing. “Oh, this is going to be sweet!”
“Or savoury, or possibly both!” joked Natalie. “You’ll also be glad to know that the chair is extra-tough. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but it won’t have a problem holding you or pushing you into the vat. So, when you’re both ready, take your shoes and socks off and sit on the chair.”
Amanda and Samantha kicked their shoes off, then placed their socks inside the discarded footwear. Luckily for them, the chair was a little bit wider than normal, not that either of them were particularly bulky. Amanda got onto the chair, then shifted over to her right (left as the others looked upon them) to make room for Samantha. The pink-haired girl grabbed Amanda’s hand and held tightly. “I hope this isn’t too nasty!” she grimaced.
To be continued…