A Waitress gets Picked for a Gunging

This is a fantasy about a Spanish holiday hotel.
Six days a week the company reps are busy organising games and competitions.
Six nights a week the reps put on a show for the guests, which is mostly home-made entertainment.
At the start of the season, it quickly became clear that the most popular part of the show was the forfeit quiz. A number of holidaymakers were invited up and they had to answer a series of questions. Get three answers correct and you win a prize! Get three wrong and the forfeit was a good gunging!

Then one holidaymaker complained to the hotel management that her expensive hairdo and clothes were ruined. She threatened to take legal action. So it was decided that it would always be a staff member or rep that gets the gunge!

So, six days every week, the entertainments manager had to find a "willing" volunteer.
But it is always a girl.
He picks on someone whose birthday it is.
Or if someone has slept in or done something mistaken that day.
He likes to pick on the reception and office staff too.
And especially the waitresses. There are dozens of waitresses.
These ones never usually get involved with the entertainment.
But they have nice crisp white blouses, always pristine and neatly ironed, and knee-length skirts.

In fact most nights recently it has been a poor waitress who has got the forfeit.
It has got to the stage that whenever one of the entertainment supervisors goes into the restaurant, the waitresses all disappear.
But he always manages to find one, usually the prettiest one with the nicest hair.

Yesterday, the entertainments manager saw Monica in the restaurant.
She is only 18 and this is her first summer job.
She has only been here for two weeks.
She had no idea what was going on and asked her colleagues what the "forfeit" meant!
They laughed and said it was nothing!

But the entertainments manager advised her to bring a spare uniform with her and to report to him at the back of the outdoor area at 10 pm! She was to be paid a bonus for the additional attendance!
Monica wondered if she was going to get splashed, or even thrown into the pool!
She hoped not, because she is a bit afraid of water, but she decided to bring a towel with her and spare underwear.
She changed into a fresh uniform in her tiny room and set off!

She was genuinely shocked at what unfolded.
She was a pretty Spanish girl, with olive-toned skin and dark hair which curled into natural ringlets as it fell just over her collar. Her uniform blouse was loose and floaty and drifted over her modest figure, giving vague glimpses of the shape of her frilly white bra when both fabrics brushed against each other. Her navy skirt was modest and comfortable.
The supervisor simply told her to go up on stage when her name was called out.

Five holidaymakers were called, each jumping up whooping, and shouting. Two were men, two ladies, and one boy.
Then Monica was called.

The compare explained that he was going to ask a series of questions. Everyone answering three correctly would win a prize. Anyone answering three wrong would take the forfeit.
It was obvious to everyone from the start that the questions were fixed, and Monica stood no chance, but the audience just loved it.

Everyone had to do simple arithmetic, and the young boy was given the answer. But Monica was asked to multiply 117 by one million, three hundred and sixteen thousand and twenty-three. The other five were guided toward guessing the populations of various capital cities. Monica knew the population of Madrid but the compare said her answer was 100 short.
So, within ten minutes five prizes were won and Monica had got three answers wrong.
She wondered what was going to happen next.
At least they were nowhere near the pool.

Then a curtain was pulled back and two lads in shorts dragged a circular paddling pool over the stage towards her. Another carried a plastic chair. Then Monica noticed a dozen buckets at the back of the stage. She couldn't see what was in them, but things were not looking good.
Within moments the paddling pool was right next to Monica with the plastic chair in the middle. The compare was urging the audience into a frenzy, "Does Monica get the gunge? Does Monica get the gunge?" he bawled, and the audience screamed, "Yes, Yes, gunge her, gunge Monica!" louder and louder.

Poor Monica. She could barely think straight. The compare made signs at her through the din that she should take off her shoes. The rough floor caught under her feet against Monica's tights.
The three lads in shorts were carrying over the buckets. Monica could see now that they were all full of a runny, slimy substance that slopped worryingly close to the rims. They were all different colours. It was obvious now that the contents of these buckets were going over her. She glanced down at her clothes. She was going to get absolutely covered!

The compare invited Monica to sit on the plastic chair, with wide exaggerated sweeps of his arms.
The audience had quietened into an excited buzz.
The young boy, who was about eight, was handed a bucket. He struggled to lift it. The bucket slipped against Monica's arm, she quickly shifted over to the far edge of the seat and all the slime fell on the floor.

The compare put on an act of horror, "Monica is cheating!" he shouted. "Monica is dodging the gunge!"
"Gunge her! Hold her still! Let her have it!" and various other remedies were shouted back.
The two men, who were in fact bothers in law, stepped forward.
One stood behind and just to the side of Monica and put both his hands on her shoulders. Not roughly, but quite firmly. Her blouse felt soft and fine and he could feel her bra straps beneath the material. His brother-in-law picked up a bucket.

"What you have to do," he announced loudly, "Is to pour it nice and slowly, so it goes all over her!"
"I will stay still!" Monica whimpered, in her best English.
The bucket was tipped slightly and slime started filling Monica's hair, with large globules dripping onto her shoulders. The man holding her lifted one hand and put it under Monica's chin, raising her head slightly.
The top button of Monica's blouse was open, and she felt coldness run down her neck. A surge of gunge started to build up just inside her blouse, forcing it away from her as it seeped downwards. Monica felt a clammy wetness against her breasts as the slime soaked into her bra. Another surge started a puddle on her skirt and then the bucket was empty.
But the gunging had hardly started.

The brothers-in-law swopped places. The one now holding her put his hands on her sides, precariously close to her boobs but not touching them.
Monica looked at him with sad, pleading eyes. "I will not move!" she faltered and then shut her eyes as another stream of wet stickiness ran down her face. This was faster than the last and the gunge tore cruelly at Monica's top, as if trying to force it open. She could feel wetness soaking through her skirt and around her bum.

The two ladies tried next, and they were much kinder to Monica. They tipped two buckets each, in one quick emptying motion over her head. This caused most of the gunge to fan out in a wide circle and drop harmlessly around her.
But the brothers-in-law were not finished yet. One took Monica's hand and urged her to stand. A torrent of slime fell from her lap as she did. He turned her around, so her mostly clean back was facing the audience. Bucket after bucket was emptied bit by bit over her neck, the back of her hair, her blouse, and her skirt. Any clean-looking patch of clothing left was meticulously targeted.

Then they spun Monica around and did the same to her front.
After all the buckets were empty, the compare raised Monica's arm like a triumphant boxer, and she got the biggest cheer of the night! She gingerly tip-toed off stage, with her sodden skirt cloying at her legs and her blouse hanging down at all the seams.

A young German lifeguard was standing at the bottom of the steps. "Would you like me to wash you off, Monica?" he asked politely, in English.
"Yes please!" she agreed readily. They stepped over to where a hose was attached to a tap on the wall.
He turned the tap on and directed a jet of water at Monica's back. She felt it press into her like a thumb. The lifeguard ran the hose horizontally backwardand forwards, and it quickly removed the slime, line by line. Monica's wet blouse clung like a second skin; it was very, very transparent.

Erik (the lifeguard) ran the hose through Monica's hair. It felt a bit cold!
"Would you like the front too?" he politely asked.
Monica nodded and turned around. She could see from her sleeves just how totally see-through her blouse was becoming and she instinctively placed her hands over her bra.
Erik switched the hose to a spray and it didn't take long to clear the slime from Monica's skirt. He turned aside, "Don't worry," he said, "I will not look at your body!" He turned aside and deliberately looked away as he raised the spray higher. He could hear it splattering on Monica's blouse.

She wiped herself down. "The mess has all gone inside!" Monica said.
"I will not look!" Erik replied.
Monica unfastened her blouse two buttons further and unclipped her bra, using her fingers two scoop out the slime from around her boobs.
She bent down to wipe her legs and Erik momentarily turned. Monica did not see him turn. He saw her open blouse hanging loose, her bra was suspended away from her and her two breasts were dangling down, glistening in the dark like two ripe pieces of fruit.
"What a beautiful girl!" he thought.

Later, in her bed, Monica thought of all these things over and over again!
She tingled at the thought of being held still and messed up!
And she really liked Erik!
She decided to volunteer again, the next night, for another forfeit!