I had no idea that when I started live streaming, it would lead to this. Just a month ago, I was a girl with a webcam and a growing audience, taking silly dares for laughs--things like balancing random objects on my head or eating crackers while trying to sing. But tonight? Tonight was something else entirely.

The chat had spoken.

"DO IT! RAID THE KITCHEN!"
"MESSIEST STREAM EVER!"
"$100 if you go ALL IN!"

I swallowed hard, staring at the screen. The donations were rolling in, egging me on. The challenge? Gather as many savoury foods as I could and well, wear them. Not just pour them over my head but really ruin my clothes--inside and out. And the grand finale? A funnel down my underwear, six eggs cracked straight in.

It was ridiculous. Disgusting. Absolutely something I should say no to.

But the money was good.

And, well it was kind of funny.

"Alright, chat," I sighed dramatically, standing in my kitchen with an armful of condiments, tins, and bottles. "Let's make a mess."

The Outfit

I was wearing my absolute favorite outfit. A snug cropped white T-shirt with a cute little heart on the chest, my best light-wash skinny jeans--perfectly worn-in and super flattering--and my pristine white trainers. My hair was in a high ponytail, neat and bouncy. I looked good.

Or at least, I had looked good.

Because this outfit? Yeah, it was about to be destroyed.

The First Wave of Mess

I sat back down in front of the camera, holding up a bottle of gravy.

"Where should this go first, chat?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

"OVER YOUR HEAD!" the messages flooded in.

Taking a deep breath, I tipped the bottle upside down.

The thick, lukewarm liquid slithered out, pouring over my hair in rich, brown waves. The scent of roasted meat filled my nose as it ran down my ponytail, spreading over my shoulders, soaking into my white shirt. I shuddered as the first drips trickled inside my collar and slid down my back.

"Ohhh, that's disgusting," I groaned, shivering at the sensation. The chat loved it.

"MORE!"
"SOAK THAT SHIRT!"

Fine.

I grabbed the jar of green pesto. Twisting off the lid, I scooped out a handful and slapped it straight onto my chest, rubbing it into the fabric. The oily, herby mush smeared across my shirt, staining it deep green. I winced as the thick mixture oozed into my bra.

"This is officially ruined," I muttered, pulling the sticky fabric away from my skin.

Filling My Clothes

Next, a tin of spaghetti hoops. I cracked it open and grinned at the camera.

"Should we pour these inside my jeans?"

The chat exploded.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled open my waistband and tipped the entire tin inside. The slimy, tomato-coated hoops tumbled down, squishing against my stomach, sliding down my thighs, sinking deep into my jeans. I gasped at the awful sensation--wet, cold, clinging to my skin.

I wriggled. It only made it worse.

"OMG, HER FACE!!"
"HAHAHA, THAT LOOKS SO GROSS!"

"Trust me, it feels gross," I groaned, shaking my leg. The hoops slithered down toward my knees, trapped inside the tight denim.

Next up: curry sauce.

"Oh, this is going straight into my bra, isn't it?" I sighed, already knowing the answer.

Sure enough, the chat was all for it.

I pulled open the neck of my ruined shirt and slowly poured the thick, golden sauce inside. I felt it flood my bra, pooling against my skin, the warm, spicy liquid spreading through the cups, soaking everything.

I whimpered.

The Shoes and the Worst of It

My poor, white trainers.

They were still pristine--for now.

The chat demanded I fill them before putting them back on.

I grabbed a tin of pilchards in tomato sauce, grimacing at the oily fish inside. With a deep breath, I dumped them straight into one shoe, the tomato sauce sloshing against the fabric. The second shoe got a generous helping of double cream followed by a drizzle of cooking oil.

I hesitated.

Then, slowly, I slid my bare foot into the first shoe.

The squelch was unbearable. My toes pressed into the slimy fish, sauce oozing up around my ankle. I gasped as the cold mush spread between my toes.

The second shoe was worse. The cream was thick, the oil making everything slippery. The moment I stepped down, I nearly fell over as my foot slid inside.

Chat was losing it.

"SHE'S GAGGING LOL"
"THIS IS THE BEST STREAM EVER"

I groaned, lifting one foot, watching the sauce drip out. "I regret everything."

The Grand Finale

By now, I was covered. My jeans clung to me, heavy with spaghetti hoops and god knows what else. My shirt was beyond saving. My trainers were unwearable. But there was one last step.

The eggs.

The funnel was ready. I tucked the spout into the waistband of my underwear, steeling myself.

Crack.

The first egg slipped down the funnel, landing with a cold plop against my skin.

I yelped.

"Ohhh, no, no, no--this is awful!"

Another egg. Then another. Each one oozed down, coating my lower half in sticky, slimy goo. The yolks pooled in my underwear, seeping into every crease, every fold. I wriggled, feeling the heavy slosh shift inside my clothes.

By the sixth egg, I was officially destroyed.

I just stood there, dripping, breathing in the overwhelming scent of gravy, fish, curry, and eggs.

The chat was going wild.

"$200 DONATION! WORTH IT!"
"LEGENDARY STREAM"

I wiped my face, smearing mustard across my cheek. "I am never getting clean again."

With a deep sigh, I squelched in my ruined trainers, spreading my arms wide. "Chat I hope you're happy. Because this outfit? This outfit is never coming back from this."

And with that, I ended the messiest stream of my life.

Would you like me to refine or adjust anything?