Making AmendsStory by doomshroom325Posted 11/13/21 822 views
"I'm so sorry babe, it just slipped off the shelf."
We stared at the wreckage of the record player. I didn't know much about those things, but even I could tell it was fucked. Things that were meant to be straight were bent and things that were meant to be in one piece had been shattered into two.
Heather looked wordlessly at it, her mouth gaping like a goldfish. I hurriedly tried to explain what had happened.
"I was trying to get that book, and I couldn't reach because the lamp was in the way and I leant over and I didn't realise that my elbow was on the record player and -"
"Beth, Beth, it's alright," she said, trying to calm me down. "It was an accident, I know."
"I am so, so sorry." I couldn't put a figure on how much the device was worth, but I knew she bloody loved the thing. I had just orphaned her entire collection of records. "Just let me know how to make it up to you."
"You don't have to do that." She picked up a piece of the broken turntable in a half-hearted attempt to see if it could be fixed. It clearly couldn't. It felt like an owner saying goodbye to a beloved pet.
"Heather, I feel awful," I said. "I've got to do something. I could look for a replacement. Or we could watch all your favourite films for an entire day, even that stupid one about Richard Gere and the prostitute. Or I'll cook you your favourite meal - risotto, right? Or anything else you want."
"You don't have to do that," my girlfriend replied. But I could see she had a look in her eye like an idea had just sprung to mind.
"Go on - tell me. I won't complain."
"Well, there is just one thing" She hesitated, still torn about telling me. Something in my forlorn expression must have pushed her over the edge. "Ok, let me show you."
She led me through a door in the kitchen to her garage. I'd never been in there in the six months we had been dating. I assumed that she just kept uninteresting crap in it like most people. For the most part, I was right, but there was a tall rectangular object stood in the corner covered with a dust sheet. Heather reached up and pulled it off.
At first I thought the object was a shower cubicle - it was the same size and shape. But the walls were brightly coloured and plastered with a logo I didn't recognise, and the pipe contraption at the top looked unusual. There was a little seat just big enough for two people at the back, so you would sit facing outwards. Then the logo unlocked a memory I didn't know I still had from a children's TV show I had watched in my youth.
"That's a gunge tank," I said stupidly.
"I bought it at an auction last year," Heather said, looking faintly embarrassed. "I loved the show when I was little and it was too cool to be thrown away, but I had no idea what to do with it. The thing's been sat in here ever since."
"And you want me to try it," I said, without needing to be told.
She gave me a subtle smile that always managed to wheedle a 'yes' out of me. "It would be great to see it in action - I never thought I would have the chance. And you did destroy my record player"
I gritted my teeth and looked at the cubicle. It was basically a brightly-coloured torture chamber, designed to put people through embarrassment and humiliation for the amusement of others. Anyone who stepped inside would get totally and utterly destroyed. I remembered the shocked faces of victims from TV shows as they were deluged in mess in this cruel public ritual.
"Of course I will," I said.
"Great. Give me chance to get it working and I will let you know."
The gunge tank hung over my head like, well, a load of gunge for the next week. It was impossible to put the idea of stepping inside it out of my mind, but I didn't want to disappoint Heather. Doing this would clear my karmic debt. And who knew, maybe it wouldn't be so bad?
Saturday rolled around and I got a message to come over.
Heather was beaming when she let me in, but my stomach was in knots.
"I've not heard from you much this week. Are you still mad with me?" I asked gingerly.
"I promise I'm not mad, I've just been busy," she said with a smile. "I've ordered everything we need and done some experimenting to get it right."
"I hope you haven't gunged anyone before me," I joked, trying not to give away my apprehension.
"Don't worry, you will still be the first victim."
She led me through to the garage, where the gunge tank now stood in pride of place. The container above it was opaque, but I suspected it was now full with whatever Heather had concocted, ready to be dumped over me at the press of a switch.
"So I've brought a change of clothes for when these are messy," I said. "Or I've got my bikini - your choice."
"Actually, I've got my hands on something else."
She produced a coat-hanger which had a bright yellow shirt with the show logo and a pair of matching blue shorts. She really was going all out to get her revenge. I took them with a grimace - unfortunately they looked to be my size. "Don't be long!"
The outfit was surprisingly figure-hugging. I admired the way the shirt emphasised by boobs and clung to my torso in the mirror, and the shorts barely came down to mid-thigh. I didn't remember that from the old gameshow. But a deal was a deal, and it was time to pay up.
When I returned to the garage, Heather had set up a camera tripod and was checking the focus. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
"You don't mind, do you? I might want to watch it back You know, when I get lonely."
"You desperate pervert," I laughed. "My misfortune is turning you on, isn't it?"
"That's basically the underlying concept as BDSM," she replied. "Now, into the tank with you."
I felt like a condemned woman approaching the gallows. I opened the transparent door on the front and stepped inside. The high walls were designed to intimidate. As I took my seat on the bench, I saw one inch-wide pipe directly above my head and one more in each back corner - all aimed right at me. My palms were clammy. I set them on my knees, determined not to look nervous as I sat in this ridiculous costume awaiting my fate.
The red light on the camera was already running. I was too late to turn back.
With a shit-eating grin, Heather said: "So for prosperity, could you explain why you're sitting in a gunge tank now, Beth?"
With confidence I didn't felt, I said: "Well, I am here because I accidentally broke your record player and feel very, very bad about it. And to show you how much I love you, I volunteered to do whatever it took to make it right. And here I am!"
"Have you ever done this before?"
"Never. I've seen it on TV and it looked not fun."
"Well, I guess you're about to find out." This was it. My insides clenched. Holding up a button which was attached to the tank, Heather said: "Brace yourself in five four"
My entire body tensed and I glanced up at the pipes. Realising I didn't want to get a face-full, I quickly looked down again.
"Three two"
Was there time to jump out and call it off?
"One."
That moment seemed to last forever. Then a tidal wave of gunge hit the very top of my head, covering my hair in a flow of chunky green slop. No matter how I tried to hide, it flowed down my face, my back, my arms, my chest, until I couldn't see anything. The yellow uniform had practically disappeared beneath the cascade of slime. I knew I probably had given Heather the exact look of shock and horror she had been hoping for - I couldn't help it as the cold stuff consumed me.
Then the side pumps kicked in and two more deluges hit me from either side, dead in the face. I tried to move away but there was nowhere in the tank that was safe from the gunge. All my exposed skin above the waist had already been showered with it. The heavy green stuff was making quick work of the silly shirt and shorts, turning me into a walking slime monster.
I could barely get a breath as it flowed endlessly down me, ruining my hair and make-up until I was unrecognisable. It couldn't have got me any messier if I had been dipped in a vat of the disgusting stuff.
I don't know whether it was ten seconds or two minutes later when the gunge finally began to subside. I was ruined. Pretty much every spot had been covered - even areas I wouldn't have thought possible like the backs of my legs. My bra hadn't given any protection to my boobs which had been thoroughly soaked.
I wiped some of it from my eyes in shock, and pushed it off my hair. What must I look like? I remembered the camera was capturing every moment and gave it a look of devastation. I held my arms up to show how completely I had been gunged, and shook some of the loose slime off.
Behind the camera, Heather looked like all of her Christmases had come at once. I had to admit, she'd done a perfect job manufacturing the gunge - it looked even better than that used on TV.
I gave a laugh which probably sounded like a sob as I took in what she had done to me. All for a stupid record player.
"Any final words?" Heather asked.
"I would just like to say again I'm sorry. Very sorry."
Admiring the gunge with a grin, she said: "Apology accepted."