Just alittle story I've had in mind for such a long time that I finally got around to writing last night. Used AI to generate a photo for the storage image and some of the formatting to make it cleaner to read but the story content and everything in it is mine and original.

Chapter 1

The first rays of morning broke through the thin cracks in Cara's curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. As if by instinct, Cara's eyes flicked open, and she sat upright in bed as though some unknown force had electrocuted her. Panicked, she looked around the room, scanning the walls, the pictures, the furniture, as if searching for some unknown threat.

Her attention shifted to herself. She tugged at her clothes in a hurried state, her breathing rapid -- not quite panting, but close. As her checks finished, her breathing slowly steadied. Still the same old photos and paintings. The same warm pink walls she'd been meaning to change for years. The same fluffy bear she'd had forever on her chair. And certainly the same Lego pyjamas she'd received in a Secret Santa the year before.

She ran her hands through her long blonde hair, then over her body as if confirming she was still okay. The gym certainly seemed to be showing results, she thought, trying to slow her breath. Everything seemed normal but how could it be?

As she lay back in bed, a faint odour drifted past her senses -- the faintest smell of custard. Not strong enough to be consciously in the room, but enough to make Cara shoot out of bed. She threw on the first clothes she could grab and bolted for the door, snatching her bag and keys as she flew down the stairs and out the front door.

How she got to the car she couldn't really say. Before she knew it, she was driving down the road toward town and was already dialling.

A tired voice emerged from the car speakers."Hey, Cara you do realise what time it is?"

"Jenny," Cara blurted out. "Yes -- sorry. Really sorry. Erm can you meet me for coffee, please? I need to talk."

Jenny suddenly sounded more awake."Erm yeah, sure. Are you okay? You sound flustered."

Cara let out an involuntary laugh and quickly coughed."Er yeah, you could say that." She slowed down to avoid running over a milkman. "I'll try to explain everything when you get here. If I try over the phone, you'll think I've lost my mind."

Jenny was already dragging herself out of bed, slipping into something warm and fuzzy -- the kind of outfit that screamed early morning coffee.

"Don't worry about going into town," she said. "Come here. I'll make us some. It's an excuse to break out the posh coffee machine."

"Okay," Cara said, slowly calming as she drove. "I'll see you shortly."


Chapter 2

Cara stopped the car and sat for a few minutes to gather her thoughts before stepping back out into the cool morning air. She hurried up the steps to Jenny's door, knocked once, and let herself in.

The warming aroma of coffee filled the air. Jenny's head appeared from the kitchen.

"Dear Lord," she exclaimed upon seeing Cara. "You're as pale as a sheet! You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Don't joke," Cara said, still trembling slightly as she made her way into the kitchen and sat at the farmhouse-style table. Jenny's house was full of rustic charm -- impressive for a home in the middle of Birmingham. Walking inside felt like stepping straight onto a country farm.

Without hesitation, Jenny thrust a warm cup of coffee into Cara's hands and draped a blanket around her shoulders. The warm liquid soothed the quivering, and a slow calmness began to return.

Jenny sat across from her friend. She'd known Cara since university -- professionally and socially -- and in all those years, she had never seen her this shaken.

As the coffee continued working its magic, Jenny finally spoke.
"Okay you don't appear hurt. Your car looks fine. I haven't heard your house has burned down. So I'm slightly worried to ask but what happened?"

Chapter 3 -- 24 Hours Before

Tuesday, as Tuesdays can be, started like any normal Tuesday. Cara roused to the sound of her alarm, showered, dressed, ate, and headed to work in the usual fashion.

It was an ordinary Tuesday at her ordinary mid-sized company, working her ordinary job as a tutor with her ordinary colleagues and students.

The day passed as quickly -- or slowly, depending how you looked at it -- and finishing time arrived as expected. Cara, as usual, was slightly later leaving the building due to last-minute questions and checks. But soon enough she was back home.

As she made her way up the steps to her door, a largish package caught her eye, propped between the door and the wall. She looked around for a delivery driver, but the road was empty.

She picked up the parcel and glanced at the label.

Cara Cremore

24 St. Clare's Road

Birmingham

Strange, she thought, stepping inside. She didn't remember ordering anything, but that was her name and her address.

She threw the parcel onto the table and continued pottering about: preparing dinner, unwinding, watching TV. Sleep had begun weaving its cheeky spell when the antique clock chimed -- loudly enough to make her eyes flicker open at 9 p.m.

Strange, she thought. That clock's never chimed since I bought it.

Her gaze fell onto the kitchen table -- the parcel.

"Oh yeah" she murmured, standing. "Let's find out what you are."

She fetched a knife, opened the box, and peered inside. A letter, a flat package, and a shoebox-sized box.

She opened the letter.

**Dear Miss Cremore,Thank you for your recent enquiry for a catalogue of our stock. Unfortunately, we are currently unable to provide this; however, please find included a sample of our stock.

Best regards,

Johan Smick -- Your Desires Clothing**

When did I enquire about a catalogue? she wondered.
The company name sounded familiar Your Desires Clothing

With a flush of blood to her cheeks, she remembered. The sploshing website. The model had been sponsored by them.

She shook her head.

But how would they know I visited that site? Cookies? Okay. But a reverse IP scan to find my address and send me a parcel?

Still shaking her head, she lifted the first package. Underneath it sat a second, smaller one. She placed the first down and unwrapped it -- a black PVC French maid dress, complete with apron and headpiece.

"Erm okay," she murmured, smiling.

The second parcel revealed a satin red bra and matching underwear.

"Ooookay"

Finally, she opened the shoebox.

A pair of black 5-inch stiletto heels gleamed back at her, their mirror-like finish catching the light.

Wow.

So what do I do? she wondered. They're samples but I didn't request them. Still

She pondered for a while.

"Oh, stuff it," she said with a grin. "Why not treat myself?"

She picked up the items and started toward the bedroom -- then stopped.

Oh, sod it.

The door was locked. No one visited unannounced.

She returned to the table, unwrapped the underwear, and slipped the cool satin onto her skin. It hugged her body perfectly. She twirled in the kitchen mirror, admiring her reflection.

She smiled again, slipping into the French maid outfit next.

"Wowsers," she chuckled. "Let's hope no one sees me in this." She said teasingly bending forward to reveal a flash of red panties as she placed her finger to her lips in a cheeky expression. She stood back up and chuckled.

Finally, she put on the heels and admired the complete look.

Not quite as hot as that model, she thought, but then she was covered in custard.

A giggle escaped her again.

Ah yes -- the custard-covered girls of the internet. She'd stumbled across the site years ago at university, shocked yet strangely aroused by the playful messy models giggling as more custard than shed ever seen was thrown around coating the girls.

She'd always been fascinated.
Always wanted to try it.
Never had the courage.

She dismissed the thought -- too silly -- and gathered the packaging. As she started to close the box, something caught her eye.

A small silver card.

She flipped it over.In bold capital letters:

SHOWTIME

She frowned and read it again.

SHOWTIME

Chapter 4

What happened next defied explanation.

Cara froze, rooted to the spot in the kitchen. Her body stiffened -- arms straight by her sides, legs locked in place. She turned her head, searching for whatever had paralysed her, but nothing was there.

Fear crept in.

"What the hell is going on?" she shouted -- except those were not the words she heard leave her mouth.

Her limbs loosened slightly, but they were still not under her control.

Her ears strained to replay what she'd just said:

"Well, I must get this food prepared for the dinner today. Oh, I do hope I don't make a mess over my nice new uniform!"

That's not what I said! she screamed internally. She tried again to shout, but once more, her words came out as something else:

"Well, I've got all this lovely jelly, custard, cream, trifle, and yogurt -- not to mention all these huge cakes. It would be such a shame if I got any on me."

Her eyes widened. The previously empty kitchen table was now heaving with everything she'd just described.

WTF?
Her mind raced -- fear, confusion, and a strange excitement.
A deep-down part of her understood exactly how that splosh model must have felt.

Regardless of how or why, Cara suddenly found herself walking toward the table. Her stride was strangely confident in the heels, and within seconds she stood before a large jug of custard.

Her hand dipped a finger into the cool, thick liquid.She lifted it to her lips and sucked.

"Mmm just right," she purred--without meaning to--before picking up the jug and slowly letting its contents fall over her head.

A squeak and giggle escaped her lips as the custard hit , slowly pouring down her blonde hair and splattering onto the pristine black pvc dress-- the reaction was entirely Cara, despite the control over her movements.

Before she could gather herself, her hands reached for a can of cream. She watched helplessly as they removed the cap, shook the can, and positioned it over her head.

A spiral of cream oozed out, forming a peak before drooping and sliding down her face and neck. Cool trails teased her skin, sending shudders down her spine.

"Clumsy me," she heard herself say in an annoyingly girly voice she didn't recognise.

Get a grip, Cara, she thought desperately. Mind over matter. Control it.

But her body ignored her.

Her hands picked up a huge strawberry cream cake, placed it carefully on a kitchen chair, hitched up her skirt, and slowly lowered herself onto it.

A squeal burst from her as cream shot in all directions -- some outward, some finding their way directly into her red panties.

"Whoopsies!" her ultra-girly voice giggled. "You can't have cake without cream!"

No sooner were the words spoken than a carton of double cream tilted over her panties, pouring a cool stream inside. Gasps quickly mingled with soft moans as her fingers joined the cream.

Suddenly the involuntary became partially voluntary.

Her right hand continued its work while her left hand clumsily dropped a trifle to the floor with a satisfying splat.

Cara slipped out of her shoes, toes sinking into the cool trifle. It oozed up between her toes as she smeared it deliberately over her legs. Her breath hitched as her fingers continued their erotic dance.

Her eyes scanned the table settling on the jelly bowl, for once her thoughts matched her voice as she heard her ultra girly voice giggle "oh no" as her left hand raised the bowl adding the jelly to her panties, squishing warmly into her already-messy underwear. Each movement sent sticky slurps echoing through the kitchen along with her growing moans.

Her head rolled back panting as she felt her left hand on the move again picked up a final carton of yogurt and poured it slowly over her face. As the cold liquid ran down her skin, the sensations below exploded--wave after wave flooding through her until her entire body trembling with release.

As the feelings subsided, she slumped in the chair, toes still buried in the trifle. She blinked through a yogurt-tinted haze

And everything vanished.

The food.
The mess.
The sensations -- except the warmth lingering between her legs.
Her limbs were her own again.
The world fell silent--
And then went dark.

Chapter 5

Jenny sat jaw-dropped, her coffee tilted dangerously close to spilling. Reality snapped back and she quickly set the cup down.

"And that's when you woke up this morning?" she asked, still staring.

Cara nodded. "Woke up in bed perfectly clean. Everything normal. The kitchen was normal when I ran out. Everything is normal -- but what the hell? It can't have been real. Stuff like that doesn't happen."

Jenny smiled gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, you're not going mad, okay?"

Cara shot her a sharp look.
"Really? So everything I just said doesn't make me sound like a total raving lunatic?"

"Umm well, I wouldn't say that," Jenny replied with a warm grin. "But if you're a lunatic, there's just one problem."

"What's that?" Cara asked, her voice softening.

Jenny stepped away and retrieved a box from the counter, placing it in front of Cara.

Cara's eyes widened. It was the same packaging -- but addressed to Jenny.

"WHAT?!" Cara shrieked. "What the hell?!"

"Arrived yesterday," Jenny said calmly.

"So hang on you got the same thing as me on the same day?"

"Well, not quite the same," Jenny replied. "Mine was a latex mini dress, red underwear, and black heels."

"Okay, cut the crap," Cara snapped. "Did you try them on?"

"I did," Jenny nodded. "And I read the note."

"And what happened?" Cara demanded.

Jenny's grin widened into something wicked.

"Oh, I had a fucking amazing messy night," she laughed. "I don't know how this shit works, but fuck me, it was incredible -- and no clean-up afterwards!"

The words took a moment to sink in. Cara slowly leaned back and sipped her coffee.

"But I blacked out and ended up in bed," she said. "How the hell did that happen?"

"Did you fight it?" Jenny asked. "Did you try to stop it, or enjoy it?"

"I tried to fight like hell," Cara admitted.

Jenny nodded."I found a tiny line of text on the card under the word SHOWTIME. It said:

Relax, enjoy, and let go. Panic and we'll take control for your safety.Warning: blackout and temporary memory effects may occur."

Jenny grinned again, squeezing Cara's shoulder.

"I'm a kinky bitch, so when my table manifested food and I started getting messy, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. I figured I dreamed it or was tripping -- but obviously not."

Cara exhaled slowly. She'd always wanted to try sploshing. She'd panicked, but who wouldn't? And now in some distant fuzzy part of her mind, she vaguely recalled going upstairs afterward, dazed, getting changed

Jenny chuckled from the counter.

"So," she said, tapping her fingers lightly, "this raises an interesting question."

"It does?" Cara asked.

"Oh, for sure. The question is
Jenny smirked.
"Your place or mine tonight? And we swap boxes."

Cara finally relaxed -- genuinely -- sinking into the chair with a laugh. Seeing Jenny grinning ear to ear, remembering the intense sensations of the night before, she finally answered:

"Mine, I think. And we'll see what other boxes that seller has."

"Deal!" Jenny cheered, clapping her hands. "Roll on tonight!"