Finally I found it. The very first story I wrote! This was done on a Compaq 286 (ask your Dad) which I borrowed from work. I can just see the orange and black screen staring back at me. Just for the record our pretty female protagonist, should she be real, would now be well into her 50's! However, one thing of note after 30 years of spotting young ladies fashions leggings and yoga pants are still a-la-mode today. Yay! Please enjoy this 35th anniversary edition

How Dare You!

It was Gemma's first day at work and she was feeling more than a little apprehensive. This was the first gainful, full-time employment she'd been in since leaving school, still being at the tender age of 21. Gemma had got the job in the confectionary shop more by chance than anything else. The 'help wanted, apply within' card in the window had caught her eye and before she knew it found her self dressed in a white coat and hat ready to deal with the day's business. Gemma was a pretty little thing with shoulder length, strawberry blonde hair and large blue eyes. She was also quite a buxom lass, much to the delight of all her male friends . That particular day, underneath her crisp, white uniform she wore a simple clingy, white t-shirt, tight black leggings and a pair of practical, pink and white training shoes.

When Gemma had first applied for the job she found her boss, a smartly dressed, young business lady in her mid-thirties, called Cressida, quite pleasant and well spoken. However, this first morning her search for perfection in the shop was beginning to wear thin poor Gemma's patients. Cressida was a slender lady with long, straight dark-brown hair extending well beyond her shoulders. Her face was pretty, but she wore a little too much make-up in Gemma's opinion. She definitely liked to pride her self on her appearance and was certainly a victim of status. The kind of girl who just wouldn't be seen dead without her expensive clothes, jewellery and her pride and joy; a rather expensive BMW car. That day in question Cressida was dressed in black roll-neck jumper, pleated yellow-tartan mini-skirt, shiny black semi-opaque tights and a pair of stylish black stiletto shoes.

The day started out well and the shop seemed bustling and busy for most of the morning. Gemma was an honest, hard-working girl and was no stranger to giving her all to satisfy her demanding boss. However, as time rolled by Cressida's demands were becoming increasingly snooty and unreasonable. At one point poor Gemma dropped a large chocolate cake onto the floor, purely by accident. At the time Cressida was standing with her back Gemma chatting. She soon turned round when she felt the some dollops of rich chocolate cream splatter up the back of her spotless tights.
"Stupid girl!, shrieked Cressida in a hissing voice. "Be careful or I'll fire you!"

Gemma didn't like her tone. In fact she was beginning to wish she'd never taken the stinking job in the first place. To add insult to injury Cressida was now sitting in the shop casually reading a women's magazine whilst Gemma was rushed of her feet.

"She's taking the piss!", thought Gemma vindictively to herself. "I'll show her!"

Cressida was sitting on a wooden barstool, which was kept in the shop just in case there was a quiet period and the assistant needed a rest. Not for bone idle bosses! The way she sat caused her brief skirt to ride fairly high up and show a lot of leg.

"Tart!", Gemma whispered under her breath at the same time falsely grinning at Cressida.

An old lady was buying some fresh cream cakes at the time and happened to enquire as to what time it was. Gemma had a great idea to get her own back. She picked up a pint jug of single cream in the same hand as her watch and slid over next to her magazine engrossed boss. Moving her wrist so that her watch was in view caused the heavy cream to pour out of the jug and slowly trickle over Cressida's exposed tights.

"Oh, it's almost 11:30...", Gemma calmly enthused as her boss let out a high- pitch, disgusted screech.

"Eeeeeee!, What the hell do you think your doing?!", sobbed Cressida "My lovely new tights! They're ruined!".

Gemma began to giggle as the oozy cream began to run down Cressida's shins and calves, soaking into the shiny black tights and gathering in puddles around her shoes.

"Right, get out! Get out now!", yelled the now red-faced Cressida.

Gemma made for the rear of the shop, with her outraged boss following closely behind. In the privacy of the back room Cressida shrieked

"Piss off! I've want to see you in here ever again!", she was almost in tears, but still seemed more concerned about her cream soaked tights and shoe than anything else.

Unfortunately for Cressida her harassed employee was just as mad as she was.

"Not until I've finished with you!", retorted Gemma angrily.

As she said that she reached over and grabbed a telephone situated on a nearby desk. Before Cressida could work out just what was going on Gemma had ripped the lead out of the wall and was trying to tie her to a nearby radiator pipe. After a great deal of struggling between the two girls, poor Cressida was finally bound by her wrists to the hot pipe, sobbing her eyes out.

"Oh no! Please I'm sorry! What are you going to do to me?

You can have your job back...please don't hurt me...", Cressida
looked startled and very very frightened.

"I'm not going to hurt you, just teach you a bit of respect!", sneered Gemma

"Oh my God, what are you going to do to me?", sniffed Cressida sorrowfully.

"Destroy something dear to your heart and I don't mean that stupid car!"

"Not my clothes, please no, or my hair...I paid a fortune..."
Cressida's voice faded to a whine as Gemma frantically looked around for messy stuff to cover her tearful boss in. Fortunately, there was an abundance of sticky ingredients just waiting to get smeared all down her smart clothes.

First of all Gemma laid her hands on a large, circular caramel tart filled about two inches deep with that rich, brown sugary mush.

Poor Cressida screwed up her pretty face as the soft tart connected with it. Giggling loudly, Gemma then rubbed the tart round and round Cressida's face until the gooey slop splattered onto the protruding outline of her chest showing through her tight jumper.

"Eurrmmpph!", gasped Cressida through the gooey face pack.

All that was visible of her face beneath the brown, lumpy gunge was the outline of her nose and eyelashes. However, not content with this Gemma took a second tart and mashed it again into Cressida's face. This time she pulled the tart along her neck and smeared what was left over the roll-neck jumper, making a second mess of her chest. Two more caramel tarts followed, this time being used to destroy her jumper by massaging the slop liberally over her ample boobs. As you can imagine the flimsy sweater was now well plastered in brown goo and clung tightly to Cressida's chest, making her breasts underneath clearly visible.

"Oh, Oh, Oh! My poor jumper, what have you done to it!", moaned Cressida.

Without answering Gemma picked up a large five pint jug, filled to the brim with creamy custard. She raised it just above Cressida's still shiny chestnut hair and began to pour. The soft yellow liquid quickly started to engulf her hair, face and poured down over the shoulders and front of the roll-neck, adding to the wet, clingy mess already there. Gemma then picked up two soft chocolate gateaus that were smothered in very oozy dark-brown icing and whipped cream. Cressida let out a soft, muffled cry and her head was sandwiched and then massaged fully with the two cakes. Back, front, sides all totally plastered and thickly smeared until both cakes had disintegrated. Her face and hair were now just a mass of caked goo and completed unrecognisable.

"How are you enjoying you little lesson?", quipped Gemma, wiping the icing from her fingers. Time we finished off that tarty jumper of yours!".

Cressida was so covered in cake she couldn't speak and just resigned herself to have clothes totally mashed with mess. Gemma made sure Cressida's eyes were wiped for the next part, as she wanted her to be aware of the destruction of her jumper. Taking two cans of spray whipped cream Gemma proceeded to spray a nice even coating of fluffy, white ooze all over the sweater, squirting up, down, left and right. Once the cans were empty Gemma took great delight in working the cream into the tight material with her hands, until the top was just a wash with wet, creamy mess and fitting like a second skin. However, Cressida's treasured jumper was by no means ruined enough for Gemma liking. She picked up two huge, deep filled treacle tarts and began to massage these firmly over the roll-neck. This meant that not only was it wet and clingy, it was now buried deep in soft treacle.
"Eurrgh! This stuff's so heavy and sticky, please let me go, I beg you!".

Poor Cressida was beginning to sound desperate, but the more she complained the more determined Gemma was to ruin her outfit. She proved this point by then dousing Cressida's jumper from shoulder to shoulder in cold tomato puree. This left a rolling thick mass of orangey mush oozing down her body on top of the already trashed garment. Cressida just hung her head in sheer desperation.

Gemma had now decide that she should focus on gunging Cressida's pretty little tartan skirt. Apparently she had paid quite a lot for the short, pleated item which made it all the more important to ruin. As Cressida watched, Gemma took a large plastic box, the kind you store paperwork in, and filled it to the brim with smooth toffee sauce. The container was about 2' x 3' and 1' deep so there was plenty of messy damage to be done. Partially untying Cressida from the pipe Gemma forced the poor girl to sit down in the deep toffee bath. As her tiny yellow skirt met the soft resistance of the gloopy caramel a small amount of soft, brown liquid began to ooze down the sides box.

"Oh my God!", yelped Cressida as the slippery goo finally enveloped her skirt and she was sitting waist deep in soft caramel.

The little gap in between her legs formed by the skirt was now facing upwards, but as yet unscathed by the slime. Cressida's legs were slightly apart and Gemma could see the full extent of her tights and brief, black panties below. This little hollow was an ideal place to fill to the brim with more sloppy mess. Gemma took a large industrial tub of lemon curd and slow poured the soft, yielding mess up her skirt. Soon her whole crotch area was just a wash with gooey curd. Cressida tried to dislodge some of the mess by opening and closing her legs, but this just squeezed more over her tights and panties. Pulling Cressida to her feet with a wonderful sloppy sucking noise, Gemma re-tied her poor victim back to the pipe. Toffee and lemon curd was now oozing down her tights and dripping from the skirt onto a puddle on the floor.

"Pleasssse let me go now!", pleaded Cressida who was now gently sobbing.

Gemma just had to shut her up so she could concentrate on totally splattering her tights and shoes with soft mess. Taking another container of lemon curd Gemma couldn't quite help noticing that it would be a perfect fit over poor Cressida's head. The upturned can took quite some pushing before the whole five litres of curd were totally mushed over her head.

Pulling the container away left Cressida's head smeared three inches thick totally in soft, yellow oozy curd. Again Gemma wiped Cressida's eyes so that she could witness the total destruction of the mini-skirt.

Although the little pleated garment was totally soaked in toffee sauce, it was still very apparent that it was a skirt and indeed yellow. To begin with Gemma thought that she'd ink the skirt to ruin it. Taking a large bottle of black fountain pen ink from the back room's desk she deliberately splashed the who lots down the skirt. It made quite an inky mess, but most of it got deflected by the soft layer of caramel already stuck to it. Gemma has a better idea. There was an unopened tin of black treacle in the corner of the room. It was going to make a dreadful mess, but Gemma just didn't care. Prizing open the lid with a knife Gemma carefully held the tin just above Cressida's waistband.

"I know how much you love this skirt, so I'm going to ruin it once and for all", mocked Gemma. "This stuff'll never come out!".

Laughing to herself Gemma started to pour the thick syrup all down Cressida's skirt, slopping it over in good mushy waves. Her skirt and tights became one seething mass of glistening goo as the treacle oozed down her legs and onto the floor.

"You bitch, I hate you!", whined Cressida.

"Be thankfully didn't treacle your hair!", growled Gemma back.

To add the treacly mess Gemma thought it would be fun to also smear something white down the mucky skirt, just to contrast with the black, shiny mess. Gemma found a tub of double cream close to hand and slowly poured that down Cressida too. The rich swirls of gloopy cream looked stunning dribbling down the now wet syrupy outline of Cressida's hips and bottom. Her tiny skirt was now totally unrecognisable.
It was at that point Gemma has the most wonderfully messy idea ever. Because the shop did so much baking they kept a huge vat of cooking fat close to hand. The cold greasy lard was stored in a large metal container, similar to a tin bath. Untying Cressida once more Gemma forced her to climbed right into the slippery pit, shoes and all, and sink her body and clothes deep under the soft lard. The greasy mess wasn't very yielding to start with, but as Cressida's body started to warm the oily mass, she soon slipped completely under it, right up to her neck. Now jumper, skirt, tights and shoes were totally covered and submerged in stiff, mushy goo. As she pulled out of the lard bath her clothes were deeply caked in thick, grey pulpy fat and very heavy.

"Now, you've totally ruined everything! Satisfied now!", sniffed Cressida.

"Not totally!", said Gemma smugly, reaching across the desk for a pair of scissors...