Caitlin O'Connor, 18-year-old freshman biology major at Boston College, felt her heart leap into her throat in half nervous, half excited anticipation as she stood in the crowd of giddy college students. It was 10:00 PM on Saint Patrick's Day. Caitlin and six other members of the Boston College Irish Dance Club had come to Avenue26, a popular club just off campus. The reality show College Challenge was taping a special Saint Patrick's Day episode. They had put out a call for Irish step dancers. Caitlin thought it would be cool to dance on national TV. She had planned to wear the Irish Dance Club's standard uniform: black spandex top and tights covered by an elegant, contemporary red skirt. She had been surprised and slightly confused to find out at the last minute that College Challenge expected all contestants to wear...swimsuits?

Now, as she waited with her friends, Caitlin could feel the bikini clinging to her body under jeans and a top. She had never done anything like this before and she had no idea what to expect. Upperclassmen in the Dance Club had determined, with thinly veiled glee and amusement, that this would be one occasion where freshmen should represent the Club. She remembered that they had seemed a little too eager to encourage her to participate. Now, glancing at her friends, Caitlin sensed a silly, jittery vibe...a slightly forced jollity which couldn't fully conceal nervous apprehension. Amid mounting anticipation, Caitlin was beginning to find the uncertainty and potential danger of this crazy, spontaneous adventure to be strangely exhilarating, maybe even a sexual turn-on...

Growing up, Caitlin had gotten used to people commenting on her cute, oh-so-Irish name. She had always looked like a Caitlin O'Connor. She had grown into a voluptuous young woman, but underneath she was still that precocious, spunky girl with the striking shoulder-length auburn hair. Now she couldn't believe she was about to stand in front of a rowdy, half-drunk crowd and accept some unknown, possibly humiliating challenge.

Caitlin's thoughts were interrupted by an ear-splitting cheer. A hunky guy with a microphone was stepping onto the platform in from of the crowd. Caitlin wondered why the entire stage and walls were covered in plastic...

"Boston College...Are you ready for a CHALLENGE?!"

It was a voice which oozed cocky irreverence. The crowd responded with an even more enthusiastic cheer.

"Awesome! I'm Josh and I want to welcome you to College Challenge, the reality show that puts students from America's finest colleges and universities in totally outrageous situations. I understand that we have a few members of the Boston College Irish Dance Club here this evening"

Caitlin and her friends let out an obligatory, slightly silly, high-pitched cheer.

"In honor of Saint Patrick's Day, we're going to select one brave member of the Boston College Irish Dance Club for our first challenge."

Caitlin felt her heart thud in her chest as she thrust her arm into the air. She felt a warm, tingly, horny sensation throb throughout her body. Butterflies filled her stomach. She couldn't believe she was doing this! She had been told that contestants would get $200 in cash for performing a challenge. Would they ask her to do something embarrassing?

Josh took his time, slowly surveying the seven freshmen as anticipation mounted. His eyes connected with Caitlin's.

"We're going to ask this lovely young woman to come forward."

The crowd cheered. Caitlin suddenly felt all eyes, and roving TV cameras, focus on her. Laughing, she exchanged nervous glances with her friends, who cheered her on. Her heart was exploding in her chest. She took a deep, nervous breath. Slowly, hesitantly, she pulled off her clean, white T-shirt and began to unzip her jeans. Male hoots and yelps erupted from the crowd as her glorious bikini-clad body came into view. Barefoot, she stepped forward onto the platform. She had never stood in front of a crowd in a bikini before and her body felt exposed. She had no idea what she was about to do. A microphone was thrust to her mouth.

"What's your name?" asked Josh.

"Caitlin O'Connor."

She was surprised by the nervous, giggly sound of her voice echoing back through the sound system.

"Wow...That's a very Irish-sounding name! Do you have any Irish in your background, Caitlin?"

She nodded, giggling. There was something about the tone of his voice that suggested that he was trying to make fun of her. But it just made her laugh more uncontrollably.

"Tell us your hometown, Caitlin."

"I'm from Newton, Massachusetts."

She could feel all eyes studying the smooth, immaculate, perfect curves of her legs and her full, sumptuous cleavage, bundled in the bright bikini top. Josh was dragging the introduction out and it felt simultaneously excruciating and exciting.

"Are you ready to hear your challenge, Caitlin?"

"Yes."

"OK...In honor of Saint Patrick's Day, we're going to ask you to demonstrate some traditional Irish step dancing. In order to get $200 in cash, Caitlin, you must dance for two minutes without stopping. Sounds pretty simple, right? There's just one small catch. Since you're such a talented Irish dancer we want to make this a little more interesting and challenging. So, Caitlin you will be dancing barefoot...in peanut butter."

The crowd erupted into gleeful cheers. A blue tarp was whisked away and Caitlin suddenly found herself standing next to a large inflatable kiddie pool filled to the top with an unbelievable quantity of thick, gooey peanut butter. She let out a giggly gasp and starred at the smooth, heaping mound, about a foot deep. Was this really happening?!

"So Caitlin, have you ever attempted to dance in peanut butter before?"

Caitlin was so shocked she didn't even know how to respond.

"Oh my God" she stammered, giggling.

She saw that a series of metal baker's carts were being wheeled into the crowd. Her heart pounded and her legs suddenly felt like jello. The carts contained rows of cream pies and other items she couldn't make out.

Josh turned to the crowd: "Has anyone out there ever dreamed of having the opportunity to throw a rotten tomato at an Irish step dancer?"

The crowd responded with a wild, enthusiastic cheer.

"Caitlin isn't used to dancing in peanut butter, and she may totally suck. So during Caitlin's two minutes of dancing we're going to give you guys full permission to pelt her with these disgusting, squishy rotten tomatoes, raw eggs, cupcakes, and pies. At the end of the two minutes Caitlin will get slimed. What's more appropriate for Saint Patrick's Day than green slime? So Caitlin...are you willing to accept this challenge?"

Caitlin hesitated as the crowd egged her on. Somehow, she was sure this wasn't what mom and dad had ever imagined when they took her to her first dance class. She had always been so proud of her dancing. How many hours had she spent carefully perfecting her moves? She was really good and she knew it. This was beneath her dignity. It was disrespectful to her heritage and to Irish dancing, itself. But why did the thought of performing this humiliating task seem so fun?...So liberating? This crowd wanted to see a beautiful Irish redhead get smacked with pies and rotten tomatoes and she would turn that fantasy into a reality. They wanted to see her try to dance in a vat of peanut butter and FAIL. She would be laughed at. The half-drunk crowd was getting impatient.

"OK." she giggled.

The crowd cheered with earsplitting intensity.

"Is it OK if I put my hair up?" she asked through giggles.

She stepped off the platform to where her cloths lay in heap on the ground. Her friends greeted her with looks of shocked amusement. She pulled her beautiful auburn hair back into a neat ponytail.

"So Caitlin, what moves more when you dance- your legs or your ass?" asked Josh.

"My legs." she responded meekly, giggling uncontrollably.

"With your permission, Caitlin, we'd like to do a little experiment. Do you know what goes really well with peanut butter?"

"No." she moaned.

"Bananas. We'll give you $100 extra if you allow us to peel this small banana and drop it into the back of your bikini bottom. We'll find out how smushed a banana gets after two minutes of Irish dancing."

Caitlin felt all of her dignity rapidly slipping away. She turned her ass to the crowd, her shoulders tensing in anticipation. Rowdy cheers erupted as Josh slowly peeled the banana. A drumroll sounded through the sound system. Caitlin felt the back of her bikini bottom being pulled out.

"Oh my God! This is SO stupid!" she moaned.

She felt the banana drop in, creating a large bulge. To the delight of the crowd, she wiggled her ass and tried to adjust it, allowing it to settle between the back of her legs. It felt cold, slimy, and slightly sticky, just waiting to get smushed. She hoped that she could keep her bikini bottom in place. She stood next to the kiddie pool, looked at the foot-deep mound of peanut butter, and took a deep, nervous breath. The crowd cheered in anticipation as Josh pulled the microphone back to his mouth. He spoke slowly in a tone designed to heighten the drama:

"Caitlin O'Connor from Newton Massachusetts...you may now step into the peanut butter and we'll start the music. Once you begin dancing we'll start the clock. In order to successfully perform the challenge, you must continue for two minutes, no matter what happens."

Members of the crowd were scrambling to grab the nearest messy ammunition. Caitlin's heart was in her throat. Cheered on by the crowd, she stepped into the peanut butter. One foot slowly sank in, and then the other. She almost lost her balance. She was a little over ankle deep in peanut butter. It was so thick that she wasn't even sure she would be able to lift her feet. She felt the squishy banana filling the back of her bikini. Giggling, she stood awkwardly, looking already defeated. "This is a total farce." she thought. "No one in this room cares about my dancing."

A group of guys holding cream pies and cupcakes gleefully surrounded her.

"So Caitlin, how are you feeling right now?" jeered Josh.

"Really, really nervous." she giggled.

"Remember, we'll start the clock when we see you begin to attempt to dance. No stopping for two minutes."

A spritely Irish reel began blasting through the sound system at an ear-splitting decibel level. The crowd cheered with riot-like intensity. Caitlin hesitated, nervously brushing a hand through her hair. She flinched, knowing that pies, tomatoes, and eggs would begin flying at any second. She tried to start dancing. Despite the resistance of the thick peanut butter she was able to pull her feet out, but they were immediately sucked back in. Every slow, clumsy step felt harder and it was impossible to even approach the beat of the music. The crowd started laughing.

SPLAT! A squishy, rotten tomato sailed from somewhere in the crowd and exploded all over Caitlin's leg. Caitlin began giggling, uncontrollably. SPLAT, SPLAT! Two raw eggs stung. She was aware that her breasts were jiggling ever so slightly. The banana bounced in her bikini. A tomato hit her breasts. With each new hit she giggled harder. She continued to try to dance. A guy took great pleasure in standing right in front of her and aiming a chocolate cream pie right at her face. "Here it comes!" thought Caitlin.

SMACK! The pie hit Caitlin's face with surprising force. She felt it go up her nose and in her ears. She tasted chocolate. He smeared it into her hair where the plate remained. "I guess he really hates Irish step dancers." she thought. She could feel cupcakes getting smeared into her breasts. A barrage of tomatoes, eggs, pies and cupcakes pelted Caitlin. The more food that was thrown at her, the harder Caitlin laughed. A pie stuck to her face and remained there as she continued to try to dance. She felt a hand press into her ass, squishing the banana into a gooey, liquid mass. Her body dripped with a disgusting, sloppy mixture. The crowd cheered in delight as buckets were lifted over her head. Caitlin had always wanted to get slimed. Now that fantasy would become a reality. Thick, heavy green slime hit the top of her head, slowly dripped onto her shoulders, and consumed the rest of her body.

The buzzer sounded and the music cut out, signaling the end of two minutes. The crowd cheered. Caitlin stopped trying to dance and stood, slightly dazed. She could hardly see. Every inch of her body was consumed. Suddenly she had the urge to roll and wallow in the kiddie pool of peanut butter, which was now covered in slime and whipped cream. She fell backwards and felt it ooze around her legs and ass. She scooped up handfuls of peanut butter and smeared it over her legs, face, hair and breasts. It was fun. How could she have ever imagined that, as a freshmen at Boston College she would get to play in a kiddie pool filled with peanut butter?

18-year-old Caitlin O'Connor from Newton, Massachusetts was one VERY messy Irish lass. But somewhere under all of that slop the Irish eyes were still smiling.