Sarah turned the corner into lush, leafy Mendel Field and immediately felt her heart leap into her throat. The crowd gathering in the warm afternoon sun was already larger and rowdier than she had expected. Music throbbed from a sound system. The dignified stone facades surrounding the lawn seemed to look on in stern disapproval in anticipation of the impending mayhem. The final week of senior year at Villanova University and three years as a resident assistant at Austin Hall had come down to this...

Sarah thought back to the RA staff meeting three weeks earlier where her fate had been sealed. The hall director had announced that they were looking for RAs to participate in a brief informational video about residence hall life for incoming freshman. Innocently and unsuspectingly, she had agreed to participate, joining two other female RAs. It seemed like a cool way to give back right before graduation.

A week later, Sarah got the first inkling of a set up. "College Challenge" was coming to campus to produce the video. The internet reality show was infamous for putting college students in outrageous, messy, and gratuitously humiliating situations. A follow-up e mail revealed that a few minor details had been withheld: The RAs would wear bikinis. While attempting to read rules and policies outlined in the Villanova University Residence Hall Handbook from a teleprompter, they would be subjected to some messy and distracting surprises, courtesy of their beloved residents. Their participation would raise money for charity. It would also allow residents the opportunity to get some sweet revenge on that special RA who told them to turn down their music and clean their room.

Now, as she surveyed the scene in front of her, Sarah began to fully grasp what was about to happen. Endless rows of perfectly sculpted whipped cream pies were set on folding tables. A large bin was filled with disgustingly squishy, overly-ripe tomatoes. 20 brightly-colored five-gallon buckets were lined up next to a blue tarp spread out on the grass. As she drew nearer, Sarah could just make out the contents which filled some of the buckets...Baked beans...Spaghetti-O's...chocolate syrup...This would be an unbelievable mess. Sarah knew there would be no way to escape with her dignity intact. Butterflies filled her stomach and a sublime, dull ache began to ooze throughout her body. It was an exquisite torture...tingly, throbbing, warm, and wet. Why did she find the whole idea of this unique and sadistic form of "maiden sacrifice" to be such an intense turn on?

She had always been smart, responsible, "straight-A Sarah"- the girl who colored inside the lines and excelled at everything. Perhaps she deserved to be taken down a few notches. She wondered if her residents would enjoy watching this happen to her. She had embraced her leadership role as an RA and mentor, providing calm, reassuring council to anyone who needed to talk. Her hall parties had been a big success. Everyone liked and respected her. She was aware that some of the guys even had secret crushes on her. She was grateful that it was the end of the semester and she wouldn't have to lead a hall meeting after this.

It was 1:56 PM...Four minutes and counting...The crowd was getting louder and crazier by the minute. Sarah could feel the bikini clinging to her perfect body under running shorts and a soft, white T shirt. She tossed down a Target bag containing a neatly folded towel and a change of cloths and kicked off flip flops. The soft grass felt good under her bare feet. A gentle breeze hit her smooth legs. She pulled her shoulder length blond hair back into a neat ponytail in preparation. She knew she could no longer delay the inevitable. Slowly, she pulled off her T shirt and shorts. Her body felt so delightfully exposed. Was it really appropriate for an RA to stand in front of her residents in this attire? The glorious curves of her body were on full display to the worldher sumptuous cleavage, bundled in the bright bikini top like a valuable package- her well-shaped ass. Within minutes, this immaculate, sensuous body would be reduced to an irresistible target for the cheap thrills and titillation of the crowd. She was willingly submitting to this. She remembered that the name "Sarah" means "Princess" in Hebrew. How ironic.

2:00 PM...Suddenly, the crowd began to cheer as Josh Winters, the hunky, irreverent host of "College Challenge," stepped forward to introduce the show. TV cameras were poised to capture every delicious moment. Then, came the words Sarah had been anticipating with both excitement and dread:

"We have three lovely young women who have agreed to help us out today. We're going to ask them to come forward, now."

The crowd cheered and an earthy dance beat began to pump from the sound system in a long, continuous vamp. Sarah's heart thudded in her chest as she stepped forward, urged on by yelps and catcalls. She faced the crowd. She could make out the faces of many of her friends. Some cheered enthusiastically, while others just watched in disbelief. Though unspoken, the mildly kinky undertones of the unfolding spectacle didn't seem to be lost on anyone- three of the hottest female RAs on campus enforcing residence hall rules...in their bikinis.

A wooden playground-like walkway structure, about ten feet high, stood in the middle of the tarp. A group of guys were already gleefully lifting the first buckets to the top of the walkway, which was accessed by ladders. It was clear that the unfortunate RAs would be asked to stand in the opening under the walkway where they would be prime targets.

Josh's tone of voice oozed cockiness and insincerity:

"Let's have a round of applause for Caitlin, Isabella, and Sarah! They're going to help us out today with some very important residence hall rules!"

Laughter and jeers arose from the crowd. Sarah exchanged nervous glances with the other two girls. Josh seemed to be taking a perverse pleasure in prolonging and heightening the anticipation. He pulled the microphone back to his mouth:

"You're each going to take turns reading a rule or policy form the teleprompter. No matter what happens, you must keep going and read to the end. You must remain in place until you have completed your designated rule and accepted your "punishment." We're going to start off by giving each of you a chance to introduce yourself to our internet audience. We're going to ask you to step to the middle of the tarp, face the camera, and tell us your name, age, hometown, area of study, and what you like to do when you're not studying."

The dance beat continued to pump. The crowd cheered as Caitlin stepped to the middle of the tarp and faced the camera. She was slightly petite with short, red hair styled in a cute, fashionable, bob. A guy appeared, holding a massive chocolate cream pie. As he slowly raised the pie in aim, Caitlin started to giggle. She shifted her feet, brushed a hand through her hair, and took a deep breath. Then, she dropped both arms to her side, looked into the camera, and spoke with an endearingly spunky determination, desperately attempting to fight back giggles:

"I'm Caitlin. I'm 19 years old and I'm from Haverford Township, Pennsylvania. I'm a second year nursing major at Villanova University. When I'm not studying, I like volunteering at local animal shelters and performing with the Villanova Irish Dance Team."

She had held it together reasonably well, but as she started to read the first rule her voice became increasingly distracted and giggly:

"Quiet Hours will be established and published by residence hall staff. When Quiet Hours are in effect no noise should be heard from another room or area. Courtesy Hours are always in effect. During Courtesy Hours residents must comply with the requests of others to lesson or eliminate noise."

SMACK. Caitlin received the pie, squarely in her face. The crowd let out a long, low collective groan, followed by cheers. Fulfillment at last! Thick, gooey whipped cream and chocolate pudding oozed over the sides of the plate and splattered, violently in all directions. An avalanche of pie slid into Caitlin's cleavage in heavy clumps. To the crowd's delight, the pie was unceremoniously smeared upwards, demolishing Caitlin's neatly-styled hair. The beautiful, beaming face of a moment earlier was now a distant memory, unrecognizable behind a thick, oozing mask. Heavy pudding and whipped cream hung from Caitlin's hair. Caitlin shook with giggles as five gallons of slimy raw eggs poured down from above, coating her body and running into her cleavage. How could any guy do this to such a cute redhead?

As she stepped away, Josh thrust the microphone to her mouth: "How are you feeling right now, Caitlin?"

"This is rad." she giggled. "I've always wanted to be in a food fight- and I love my residents! They totally deserve to do this!"

Isabella looked less enthusiastic as she stepped to the center of the tarp. She had a stunningly memorable face, set with dark, radiant eyes. Her complexion was Mediterranean. Long, glorious dark hair ran halfway down her back. She had the teasing smile and confident air of a girl who knew she was hot, and who was used to casually and laughingly dismissing the advances of countless guys. The crowd drank in the perfection of her immaculate body.

SPLAT...A tomato, hurled from somewhere in the crowd, hit her thigh, exploding violently. The crowd erupted into cheers of approval.

"I haven't even started yet." protested Isabella, meekly, through giggles.

Her body language suggested that she considered the situation to be completely beneath her and she just wanted to get it over with. She didn't want to dignify this farce with any effort. Bracing herself, she rolled her eyes and giggled as a pie was raised in aim.

"I'm Isabella. I'm 20. I'm from West Hills, New York. I'm majoring in environmental studies here at Villanova. I like volleyball and musical theater and I play the cello."

SMACK. The pie hit Isabella's face with a satisfying slap. There was another cheer of approval from the crowd. As the dance beat continued to pump, Isabella attempted to pull pie off her face.

"This is so stupid." she moaned through resigned giggles. "I can't even see to read."

Making the best of it, Isabella began to read from the teleprompter in an already-defeated voice:

"Guest Policy...Only students who have signed residence hall contracts are permitted to live in residence halls. Residents are responsible for the behavior of their guests-"

No one was listening. Isabella screamed, gyrated, and dissolved into giggles as five gallons of heavy, cold, baked beans splattered down from above, quickly consuming her shining, dark hair. Beans hit her shoulders and ran downdowninto her full cleavagedown her legs. In this one moment, what remained of Isabella's dignity and personal magnetism was stripped away.

"Ew...This is gross!" moaned Isabella. She forced herself to continue as two more tomatoes were hurled:

"Oh my God...Guests who violate residence hall policies will be asked to leave the residence hall and their host will be held responsible for the policy violation...Residents may host overnight guests as long as they do not infringe on the rights of other residents and are registered at the front desk. No guest may stay for more than three nights within a fourteen day period."

Dripping with slop, Isabella stepped away from the camera.

Sarah's moment had come. She had been dreading the awkwardness of having to introduce herself with a pie aimed at her face. It felt torturous. But of course that was the whole point. She was surprised by the intensity of the crowd's response as she slowly stepped to the middle of the tarp. She giggled as her bare feet squished over an oozing mixture of baked beans, eggs, whipped cream, pudding, and newly-formed tomato paste. The feeling was simultaneously disgusting and pleasurably decadent.

Sarah faced the camera, trying to project nonchalance in an effort to hide her nerves and gradually-intensifying arousal. A freshman guy from her floor at Austin stood in front of her, gleefully holding a pie in one hand. Sarah studied the heaping mound of whipped cream which covered a deep layer of pudding. She wondered what was in the buckets on the platform, directly over her head. She could see the contents of two buckets which had not been lifted up yet...barbecue sauce and cream corn. Had she made the dean's list all those quarters and earned acceptance into a prestigious graduate program so she could do this?! If she allowed herself to let go of all inhibition- to indulge in this moment of total insanity- this might actually be fun.

"Why would anyone want to throw a pie at Sarah?" asked Josh, mockingly as the crowd laughed. "She looks like such a nice, sweet girl."

The dance beat continued to pump in its endless vamp. The pie was raised in aim. Sarah looked into the camera and spoke with as much poise as she could manage:

I'm Sarah. I'm 21 years old and I'm from Maple Grove, Minnesota. I'm a senior at Villanova University, graduating with a major in communications and a minor in English. When I'm not studying, I like running and volleyball...and I play the flute."

SMACK. Sarah felt a firm, enthusiastic hand plant the pie squarely in her face and rub it from side to side for emphasis. Instantly, she tasted and smelled chocolate. She felt it smothering her- going in her ears and up her nose. She could hear the crowd's laughter and cheers as the pie was smeared into her hair and wiped down her ponytail. Splat...Splat...She was pelted with tomatoes. Smoosh...Another gooey pie hit her face. As the dance beat pumped, she pulled gobs of pie from around her eyes. She looked into the teleprompter and tried to read a policy pertaining to windows and screens while overcome with giggles:

"Screens are not to be unhooked or removed from windows for any reason. Residents of a room or building are responsible for any objects ejected from windows, fire escapes or roofs"

Sarah felt a heavy, thick mass of stickiness hit the top of her head. She let out a giggly, orgasmic gasp. She quickly realized that chocolate syrup was being dumped over her head. She felt it dripping onto her shoulders and pouring into her cleavage, instantly turning the bright bikini top deep black. She continued to read, even though the crowd was cheering so loudly no one could hear:

"Windows are not to be used for entrances or exits. Windows should remain closed during periods of high winds and/or heavy rains."

Sticky chocolate ran down her legs and collected at her bare feet. She felt a pie slam into her ass. Another pie came down directly on the top of her head. Feeling like an oozing creature from a bad science fiction film, she stepped away from the camera, wearing the final pie, stuck on her head, like a hat. The tarp was getting incredibly slippery and she had to work hard to avoid slipping.

"That's a good look for you, Sarah!" joked Josh. "Oh, but you do have a little something on your face."

The crowd was enjoying watching Caitlin attempt to step to the camera without slipping. She nearly went down, but steadied herself just in time.

"In a minute, we're going to ask Caitlin to demonstrate Irish step dancing." quipped Josh.

Caitlin faced the camera and was greeted with a barrage of pies and tomatoes. The crowd cheered with riot-like intensity. Caitlin was shaking with giggles and she could hardly get the words out. Especially as five gallons of Spaghetti-O's were dumped over her head:

"Keys and Prox Cards...Oh my God!...Residence Hall keys and prox cards must remain in the possession of the resident of the room/building at all times"

Five gallons of chocolate syrup came down on poor Caitlin.

"All residence hall keys and prox cards must be returned when residents vacate their room. Residents will be responsible for the cost of replacing lost keys and prox cardsIf the misplaced key or card is found after a replacement has been issued the charge will not be refunded."

Sarah watched Isabella endure pies, cream corn, and Spaghetti-O's as she tried to get through a clause regarding the prohibition of pets. The event seemed to be quickly devolving into total chaos. Sarah realized that this would be the final and perhaps most lasting memory her residents would have of her. All of her genuine effort as an RA would be trumped by the enduring image of her bikini-clad body consumed in slop. She didn't think anything could be more humiliating than having barbecue sauce dumped over her head. As she carefully stepped to the camera, she had a feeling that bucket was being reserved for her.

Sarah was right. As she attempted to read a clause on electrical appliances, deep red barbecue sauce, Spaghetti-O's, baked beans, and eggs rained down on her. She was now almost ankle deep in the sloppy mixture. She half wanted to fall and slide around in it. As she stepped away, she slipped and landed face down in the slop. The crowd cheered. Caitlin and Isabella both dived into the slop to join her. Sarah rolled and slid around, enjoying the feeling of gunk in between her legs, around her breasts, INSIDE her bikini, and inside every orifice. It felt gloriously decadent, wasteful, and naughty.

"I'm an adult." thought Sarah. "I can play in my food all I want, and not get in trouble." After years of following the rules and coloring inside the lines it had finally happened: Perfect, responsible, "straight-A-Sarah" had gotten her just deserts.