Your glance up nervously. You lick your dry lips as you look out at the crowd around you. They're all laughing at a joke the host has made, waiting for him to pull the cord. He's joking with the girl who beat you, and congratulating her on her victory.
You suddenly feel a droplet on your head. It runs down your forehead to your nose and then drips onto your bare thigh. It's cold and goosebumps radiate across your body. You touch the droplet, rubbing the gunge into your skin with curisoity. The drip becomes a trickle, with a thin stream of green gunge hitting your head. It's so thin that the audience hasn't noticed, but it's all you can think about. As you sit there, it runs down your freshly styled hair, leaving a patch plastered to your scalp. It runs down the side of your face slowly, making you shiver. As it slides down the sensitive skin of your neck, you have to suppress a gasp at the coldness. It trickles down your chest, leaving a thin trail between your breasts that makes you shiver. The cold gunge slowly covering you as everyone watches makes your skin crawl as you feel every sensation. But you can't help but be thrilled at the same time as it caresses your skin.

"She's our loser, so now it's time to gunge her!" The host snaps you out of your thoughts. Oh god, you're not ready.

"3"
All you're wearing are cycling shorts and a thin t shirt. You're not even wearing a bra. Everyone will be able to see soon. The baggy shirt will cling to your every curve once it's covered in the thick slime.

"2"
You'll feel it all over your body. It will cover your hair, it will soak into your clothes. There's so much gunge hanging over your head. Your heart is pounding.

"1!"
This is it. The crowd is cheering. They want to see nothing more than a pretty girl be humiliated with gunge. Part of you feels the same as you remember the thrill of that trickle sliding down your body. But your cheeks burn at the thought of everyone watching you.

The host pulls the cord and the gunge hits you all at once. The green slime instantly coats your hair as you feel it stick to your skin. It runs down your back underneath your shirt, even sliding into your shorts. You can't help but scream as you thrust your chest forward to avoid this. You hear men in the audience cheer and wolf whistle at this. You were right- your shirt now clings to you like a second skin and the chill of the gunge has made your nipples stand on end. You shiver as rivers of gunge roll over them, leaving tingles in their wake. As the flow finally slows to a trickle, you feel the gunge run down your bare thighs, tickling the naked skin. You squirm as it soaks between your slightly parted legs. Your hair now hangs in wet, sticky snakes down your back as you try to wipe your face clean.
The host comes to the door of the gunge tank and you think he's going to release you. Instead, your world turns white as he slams a thick cream pie into your face. Your face burns as he smears it around and pushes it on top of your head. As the crowd laughs, you've never felt more exposed, more humiliated in your life.
And you've never been so excited.