Written by PML — 2011 — from WamLibrary
m/f, slime, tv
My name is Stacey, and I have just been through one of the worst experiences in my life. I shudder at the thought of it, but I suppose you’ll want to hear what happened? I guess I can relive it one more time.
It’s all down to this TV show I was on, which I still don’t know the name of. My boyfriend, well, that bastard, he brought me on the show, and it’s his fault for everything. Starving Africans? Cancer? Daily Mail? All his fault. I don’t care what it takes, he won’t be showing his face anywhere again, Robert will make sure of that. Which reminds me…
…
Hi, Rob, I need you to pick me up from the studio.
…
I’ll explain all later, I just need a pick up right now.
…
Ok, Thanks Bro. I’ll see you later.
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. Me and the dick arrived at the studio in the morning, and we were quickly shown to a dressing room. We were separated then, with a make-up artist sticking me in a chair and going to town. By the time she was done, I felt radiant, at least I did back then. They took me through wardrobe, dressing me up a beautiful silver dress, complete with a silver tiara to hold my brown hair back. The dress was a perfect fit, which I found relieving, considering I wouldn’t call myself average size. It did have enough cleavage to show off my ample bosom though. Silver slippers completed the outfit, and I smiled as they led me on set.
Once there, they led me over to a curtained off area. They guided me past the curtains to where a booth stood against the wall, maybe slightly bigger than an old phone box. One of the assistants opened the front glass door, and almost pushed me inside. They lifted me onto the seat inside, which was high enough for legs to be swinging gently. They shut me inside, telling me that the host of the show would guide proceedings, and the section I was to be in would be fairly early. They left me by myself in the dark, and I sat there waiting for the show to begin. I should have realised then that something was up.
After a few minutes, some music played, and there was applause from the audience. Some man was talking about this or another, but to be honest, I couldn’t follow it. After a couple of minutes, my ears perked up when I heard my boyfriend’s name being mentioned. Again, I couldn’t really follow what they were talking about, but I got some sort of gist about kissing and coming on the show. I just amused myself until…
“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s meet Joe’s girlfriend, Stacey.”
At this, the curtains opened, bright light pouring into the small gap, although I was able to keep a small smile on my face. Once my eyes had adjusted, I could see the host of the show, and that shit Joe, stood by the front of the booth. They were both looking at me with a creepy smile on their faces, something that made me nervous.
“So Joe, this is the girlfriend that you caught kissing another guy. Well we don’t think that’s right, so we?” The audience shouted back, “No!”
I have to admit, I realise what I did here was fairly stupid. The crowd was baying for blood. Joe had them eating out of the palm of his hands. If I had said something here, I might have got some sympathy. Hell, I might even have escaped at that point. But no. I was too shocked at what I was being accused of to say anything. Sure, I was no longer smiling, but at the same time, neither did I act that surprised. I just kept my mouth shut, looking constantly at that lying dickhead. They must have thought I had no remorse, that I wasn’t sorry. I doubt they ever considered that I was completely innocent, and what they were about to put me through was probably justified to them. Oh boy, I totally did not deserve what they did.
“I guess she has nothing to say. Let’s give Stacey her just desserts.”
I was fairly confused at that, but that soon changed when brown gunk smacked against the crown of my head, and splattered all around my head and against the glass. I screamed loudly as I hunched my shoulders in a reflex action. The goo squirmed its way down from my head, splashing over my shoulders and across my boobs. The flow of the falling gunk just kept on coming, so much so that even with my face down for most of the gunging, the splash back meant my face was fairly covered too.
The gunk did stop falling, eventually, but I was so covered in the stuff that I wondered whether I’d be clean again. The audience didn’t help matters. Every single one of them was laughing at me, or nodding approvingly as if I deserved that. I suppose to them I did, but that didn’t make me feel better. The host started talking then.
“Well, I think Stacey has had some punishment, but you Joe have to make a decision now. We can release Stacey from the tank.” The audience booed, something that just made my heart sink. “Or you can dump her.” Loud cheers erupted. “The two levers are in front of you, make your decision.”
I looked over at Joe at this point, quite angry at him and what he just put me through. He took one look at me, gave a smirk that just confirmed my sinking feeling, and placed his hand firmly on the dump lever. I started shaking as he pulled it down, though I’m unsure whether it was from anger or fear. Either way, when the sirens started blaring, I just hunched myself up again, raising my arms above my head. However instead of more gunk falling, I started falling, as my seat started descending through where the floor used to be (I never noticed it disappear). Again I screamed, arms flailing around, and just after I dropped through the floor, the seat gave way and I fell freely. That didn’t last long, and I soon plunged into some thick slop, most of which splashed around as I went completely under. Having been screaming during the drop, I ended up with a mouthful of the disgusting stuff as I fought my way to the surface for air. I was unable to see anything, even after wiping the goo out of my eyes, since the whole place was dark and very little light was coming from where I had just dropped from. Still, being dunked in some horrible gunk, which seemed to be spreading everywhere, by the guy I was going out with meant I couldn’t care less about seeing anything.
Of course, that was until a few seconds later, when a loud creaking noise caused me to look upwards. There, about a metre above my head, a trapdoor swung down, trapping out the light and leaving me in pitch blackness. Worst still, as the trap slammed shut, something else spilt right into my face, causing me to splutter, squirming despite the fact I was swimming in something I would normally go nowhere near. I could see some sort of poetic justice in the trapdoor, but this was a miscarriage of justice, and I had just suffered for it.
I often told my friends that my breasts were so large that if I was ever stuck in water, they would keep me afloat and I wouldn’t drown. I found out this was complete bollocks, as I even when they popped out of my dress that slipped the zip, I still had work hard to keep myself above the surface. I kept swimming at the surface, not exactly sure how long I was left in the cold, dark muck until eventually, a hatch door opened, and someone dropped a ladder down for me.
After climbing out, I found myself in a darkened corridor, clearly behind where the booth had been. I could hear noises coming from that direction, so clearly the show went on, but that mattered not, because there was no way I was going out there. The guy who was just closing the hatch seemed to agree, and pointed for me to walk down the corridor, all with a scowl on his face. I just assume he must have believed the cock and bull story. I was taken to some dank shower block, clearly as a way to continue the torture, where the guy simply said my stuff was in a locker, and I was to leave through that door over there once ready. It was only as I climbed into the dirty cold shower that I realised that my double D breasts had been hanging out, and had been all through the walk here. All while coated in some sort of gunk, which the cold shower barely shifted by the way. At this point, in that freezing waters, I just broke down and cried.
So there you go. That was the story of how my ex-boyfriend just dumped me on TV in some disgusting slop. I’m sure to never forget the experience, but at the same time, I’ll probably never feel clean again. Don’t worry about Joe. He’ll get his “just desserts”, as I said, Robert won’t let him get away with such cruelty. As for me, I hear Rob has just arrived at the studio, so I’m going to go somewhere that can give me a proper shower, before settling in with my chocolate fudge brownie on the sofa. Hopefully Rob will be able to help me out. Anyway, I guess it’s true what they say. A problem shared is a problem halved. Thanks for listening.