Hayley visits the Haunted House

[ghilton]

Hi there, this story was obviously written in response to this rather brilliant request from Hayley, although I went ahead and came up with a plot anyway which I now gather wasn't really required...

Any resembles herein to any WAM personages real or fictional is of course entirely coincidental. Excepting Hayley herself naturally!

HAYLEY VISITS THE HAUNTED HOUSE

The house stood at the end of the narrow, winding road, separated from its neighbours by a thick patch of overgrown forest. It was at the base of a low hill, built two storeys high out of old dark timber. To the naked eye, something seemed off about the place: it may have been the roof that leaned over at too crazy an angle; the wooden planks that didn't quite fit together evenly; or that even though it was already dark, not a single light shone within.

Hayley parked her car opposite and wondered what she was doing here. The message she'd received at work had been utterly vague - come to this address at eight, someone had told her on the phone before hanging up. And she'd ended up working late that night at the office so she didn't even have time to change. She was in a grey pantsuit and pumps, not exactly the best attire for exploring what looked like an abandoned house.

On the other hand, she was a realtor. She'd surveyed worse houses before. Hayley took the torch off the back seat and got out.

It was an overcast night and somewhere up in the sky, the moon was trying to shine through. There was a faint breeze in the air but the night was still warm. Hayley walked through the front yard, ducking under some overhanging branches, before stepping onto the front porch of the house. She stood and listened for a moment. She could hear the house creaking in the breeze, but nothing else. She knocked on the door anyway with a firm rap of the knuckles.

No answer. "Anybody home?" she called.

She waited, then reached for the doorknob. It was brass and rattled in her hand, and at that very moment something like a very tiny vibration seemed to pass all through the house. She nearly took a step back, startled, but the doorknob turned easily and the door swung open before her. Hayley shrugged and stepped inside. The interior was almost pitch black, with just a little moonlight filtering through the walls to illuminate the outline of the room. Hayley flicked on her torch. The floor was wooden, and covered in dust. There was no furniture in here, although several pictures hung on the wall. Hayley took a few steps forward.

Suddenly she heard a noise behind her. She whirled, torch out, and was just in time to see the front door slam shut in front of her. Hayley stood very still, heart beating fast. That was the wind, she told herself. Just a sudden gust of wind. Slowly she walked back to the door, and now she felt acutely conscious how much sound her heels made on the floorboards.

Hayley tried the door, but it wouldn't open. The same doorknob that had turned so easily in her hand now stuck as if it had rusted into place. She rattled the knob and cursed and made more noise than she felt comfortable with, but the door refused to budge. And it was thick wood, no way of forcing it open. She eventually let go and stood there, trying to calm herself down. It's okay, Hayley told herself. The door swung shut in the breeze and it doesn't work from this side. Just find the back way out.

That seemed the best plan, so she walked back into the room, torch at the ready. At the far side of the room were a couple of doorways, and she was making her way toward them when she saw a flash of movement in the corner of her eye. She whirled, torch out, but there was nothing there. Then came a whirl of motion on the other side of the room and before she was able to turn someone had smashed a thick cream pie into her face.

Hayley couldn't even identify what had happened at first - it was like she'd had her head pushed into a puddle of mud. The pie coated her face thoroughly, cream splattering onto her neck, her ears and her shoulders, and it slid up her face and onto the top of her head, matting her hair. Hayley gasped with shock, her mouth wide open. She couldn't see anything and her first instinct was to reach a hand up and clear her eyes. As she did so she felt a breeze behind her, and suddenly two fingers pulled open the back of her pants and poured in another liquid creamy pie. Most of it ran inside her panties and the rest dripped down her legs. Hayley whirled round, torch blazing, and saw the flutter of what looked like a black cape, and then it was gone.

And then Hayley knew who this was. The Phantom Flan Flinger! He was a local legend, often talked about, but never positively identified. He liked practical jokes of a messy kind, such as wiring up an elevator to deposit a warm bucket of beans on anyone who wanted to travel to the 12th floor. He attacked people when they were alone, pieing them as they turned street corners, or tipping buckets of slime onto them from overpasses. He'd even attacked Hayley's sister: she was alone in the elevator when the door opened and a black clad figure (she hadn't seen any more than that) had given her head a pie sandwich. What made that worse was that an important client had been waiting on the ground floor. She'd been most distraught for days after that, and Hayley vowed that if she had the opportunity, she'd catch this guy for her.

Well, it looked like this was her chance. Hayley smiled grimly and wiped more cream off her face. There's no ghosts here, it's just a man, she told herself. And you can catch him. She wanted to pull down her pants and wipe most of the muck out of there, but he might have been watching so instead she just pulled them up. The pie filling in her panties squicked up around her nether regions, a not unpleasant sensation.

She chose the door on the right and as she passed through a bucket of slime was dumped over her head. It came in one thick heavy mass and covered her head instantly. More slime kept coming, and it ran down the inside of her jacket. Hayley looked up to try and see the Flan Flinger but he hadn't run out of slime and it fell directly onto her face, splatting down her front. Finally the deluge stopped, and Hayley heard a faint snicker from above.

She turned the torch on herself and made a quick inspection, even as the slime dripped from her hair. Her front right down to her breasts was covered in thick green slime, and there were dots of slime below that all the way down to her feet. She felt slime trickly down her back, and her shirt was moist and hanging limply from her shoulders. Hayley shrugged. Her clothes were already ruined, so what did she care if they got messier?

Hayley took a few steps forward, then had a brainwave. She took her pumps off and tossed them aside - no point giving her opponent free clues as to her location. Now in stockingclad feet, she moved forward quietly. The hallway in front of her branched off to the right, and she went through the doorway. Nothing fell onto her from above. She swung her torch around, and saw what looked like a kitchen. She took a couple of steps forward and saw something on the floor. It was a clear plexiglass tub, maybe ten inches high, and it was full to the brim with beans. Hayley leaned forward - this seemed like a pretty crappy trap...

"Boo," said someone softly behind her. Hayley whirled round, and before she had time to see anything other than the black clad figure in front of her she felt a small poke in her midsection. She tumbled backward, off balance, and fell butt first into the tub of beans. The Flan Flinger was holding a bucket of beans and he tossed this all over her, then turned and vanished. As he did so he passed a hanging cord and gave it one tug. From the ceiling dropped more and more beans, in bucketload after bucketload. They crashed down over her legs, her chest, her head. Hayley curled up and covered her head and waited out the storm.

Finally the deluge ceased. Hayley slowly uncurled her limbs. She was soaked from head to foot in bean juice, her groin soaking wet in the tub. Beans covered every inch of the floor. They ran down her face, over her clothes, and inside them. She stood up, rather stiffly. She tried the torch and it was still working, but it was covered in bean juice and so everything had a red tint. She took a few steps, stockingclad feet squishing beans underneath, and the stickiness of her clothes was making it hard to move. Her jacket in particular seemed to have shrunk several sizes.

And Hayley smiled. If all this was supposed to make her cry uncle, the Phantom Flan Flinger didn't know who he was messing with. She struggled out of her jacket and threw it aside. Her long sleeved white shirt had gone tea-colored and semitransparent from the bean juice, and was covered in slime and cream at the shoulders. It clung to her skin but didn't restrict her movements. She retraced her steps and went back out into the hallway.

The next room was a tiny study, with a stairway at one side leading to the next floor. Bookshelves lined the narrow walls. Hayley shined the torch around but couldn't see anything. She looked up, and the ceiling seemed rather strangely shaped and bumpy. Then she realized the ceiling was covered from wall to wall with balloons.

A tiny metal needle flew from one wall, and burst two balloons. A bowlful of raw eggs fell onto Hayley, followed by a coating of oil. More needles flew and more balloons burst. Four went at once and coated Hayley's head with condiments. Tomato sauce rained down, and mayonnaise and salad oil. So many different substances were raining down from so many places it was impossible to shelter. One balloon was full of paint and it coated her face. Hayley stood in the middle of the room, resigned to her fate, but almost enjoying the variety of what was falling on her.

When it was all over, the room was messy from floor to ceiling, and Hayley in the middle was like a walking smorgasboard. She heard a snicker above.

Hayley shook her hair, wiped her eyes clean, and climbed the staircase. She made it to the top without incident. Here a passage ran to the right of her, with several doors branching off to the left. She came to the first, and looked inside. It was a bathroom, and the main feature was a claw footed cast iron bathtub. It was full to the brim with something dark and thick. Hayley swung the torch around, looking for the Phantom Flan Flinger, but there was nothing there.

Suddenly Hayley felt air moving, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something brushed her back. She took a stumbling step forward, onto the tiled floor of the bathroom - and stepped in a wet soapy patch. Her leg went from under her and she pitched forward involuntarily, tumbling face first into the bath.

It was full of chocolate pudding mix, so thick and heavy it was like quicksand. It seemed to be pulling Hayley under, and her limbs flailed as her head sank below the surface. Her hands got purchase and she pushed up off the bottom of the bath, turning her torso as she did so, and her face broke the surface. She wiped her eyes with one hand, only to see the Phantom Flan Flinger standing in the doorway. He threw a pie which, with unerring aim, coated her face. The impact nearly pushed her back below the surface but she grasped the side of the bath and held herself up.

She was breathing hard, but quickly controlled herself. He was running out of places to hide. And when she caught the Phantom Flan Flinger she'd pay him back double, you could be sure of that! Besides, this bath wasn't half bad. You'd pay a fair bit at a fancy spa to get this sort of treatment normally. The pudding mix sucked at her clothes, molding them tightly to her body. Hayley sat up and ran her arms through the mix, then picked some up and let it fall down over her head. She wiped the pie off her face with the stuff. She could have stayed there a while longer, but there was still her assailant to catch. Hayley sighed and got out of the bath, pudding falling off her clothes in long drips. The weight of it was making her pants quite uncomfortable to walk around in, so she wrestled them off. Somehow her shirt was still holding together, although some of the buttons had broken.

She tiptoed out of the bathroom and continued up the hallway. The torch had been lost somewhere in the bath, and she could only see a few feet in front of her. She walked slowly, her stockinged feet squelching quietly on the floorboards, her eyes flicking left and right for any movement, her hands held out ready to strike.

The hallway ended at a wooden door, just slightly ajar. Hayley paused in front of it, then pushed it open and strode inside.

She saw a number of things very quickly. A brass four poster bed. A wooden chair with a coil of rope on it. Several glowing lanterns hanging from the ceiling. And in the corner, a mechanical contraption she couldn't quite fathom. It was a rectangular box about the size of a garbage can, and a metal arm protruded from the back, tilted back 45 degrees. At the end of the arm, nestled in a shallow scoop, was a thick glistening pie.

Before Hayley could react, the door swung shut behind her and the Phantom Flan Flinger pinned both arms tightly behind her back. Hayley struggled, but his grip was powerful and she couldn't break free. And she couldn't take her eyes off the machine, the arm of which was beginning to move...

Suddenly the arm flipped vertical and a pie sailed through the air. It hit Hayley squarely in the face, and she tasted banana and custard. The man was standing directly behind her, still holding her firmly, and some of the pie splashed over him, but he didn't flinch. The arm retracted until it was horizontal and a pie slid out onto it. Then the arm jerked forward and another pie flew at her, splatting heavily over her face. This one was even thicker and it coated her eyes, cutting off her vision. She spat cream out of her mouth. She wriggled even more firmly against the man, but despite all the mess on her he didn't lose his grip on her arms. She moved against him again, this time not to get free but just to judge his strength. He was tall and broadshoulders, and seemed to be wearing leather. And that felt like muscle she was rubbing herself over. Not to mention a rather solid bulge at his midsection.

More pies were hurled at her in quick, remorseless succession. She shook her head violently to clear the pie mass, but it continued to build on her face. The man let go with one arm and she thought she would be released, but he merely pulled her shirt off her shoulders. It fell to her midsection, leaving her breasts covered in just a bra. Still the pies flew at her, and their trajectory gradually lowered, so that they landed in a trail down her front. The last one splatted wetly on her groin, and then there were no more.

Hayley risked a quick look behind her. The man was wearing a leather mask, and his eyes were hidden behind the tiniest slits. He wasn't letting go of her, and pushed her forward. She stumbled toward the chair, and he spun her round and plonked her ass firmly down. With one hand holding her shoulders down he picked up the rope in the other and began to tie her to the chair. Her hands were tied together behind the chair, and her feet tied to each leg of the chair. Hayley didn't resist much, she was feeling quite dazed by the onslaught of the last few minutes. When the man was finished her legs were wide open, her chest jutted out, and she was a sticky mass from head to toe.

Now she saw the Phantom Flan Flinger in full for the first time. He had a short black cape billowing at the back of his neck, but otherwise was covered from head to toe in black leather. Not an inch of skin was visible - save perhaps for the eye slits, through which Hayley fancied she could see piercing green irises. The front of his leather suit was covered in her mess, mainly cream and chocolate pudding. He brushed some of it off with his leather gloves, which came halfway down his forearms.

He was silent now. Hayley didn't know what was going to happen. Her shirt still hung in ragged tatters from her body, and he reached forward with one gloved hand and yanked it down. One arm tore and he pulled it free. Hayley cringed back as he reached out and let his glove run over her brad-clad breasts. He grasped one breast and squeezed tightly.

Hayley felt a flush rising through her neck. The man turned from her and picked up a large bucket. He dipped one glove in and pulled out a thick glistening handful of honey. He rubbed her face with the glove, and the stickiness of the leather made Hayley gasp. He picked up more honey and rubbed it into her hair. The motion tugged painfully at her roots. More handfuls of honey came, these down the sides of her head and over her ears. Then he lifted the bucket and tipped it over her. The honey came down over her head like a slow descending curtain. It sank down her neck and over her back. The man scooped some up off her face and pulled open her bra and rubbed honey over her bare nipples.

Hayley's breathing had gotten louder and more ragged. She hadn't expected this at all - the nakedness and humiliation was turning her on. The man was cold and silent. He set down the bucket and picked up another. Again he reached in with his gloved hand, and this time came out with a handful of treacle. He massaged some more into her hair, matting it even tighter than before, then picked up heavy handfuls and threw them roughly at her torso. Dark masses of treacle splatted her breasts, her shoulders, her belly. Hayley writhed on the chair, unable to protect herself. A flying mass of treacle coated her chin and neck. Then he came forward and pulled her panties forward, then tipped the remainder of the treacle over her groin. He let go of her panties and using both hands vigorously massaged her pussy. Hayley felt treacle squeezing up her crevices. Her breath came hot and hard, her muscles quivered. She could hear the chair rattling on the floor as her excitement grew.

Cruelly, he stopped kneading at her groin. He pulled her panties down to her ankles, then stepped back and picked up another bucket. A strong smell wafted over, although Hayley couldn't place it. He leant forward and tipped the bucket over her breasts. A thick black liquid coated first one, then the other.

It was motor oil. It ran down her front and into her groin, giving her pussy a slimy, ticklish sensation. The man's mask tightened, and Hayley imagined he was smiling behind it. The bucket lifted higher and he poured the oil out over her face. Hayley squeezed her eyes shut as the oil coated her skin. It was heavy and slippery and unbelievably smelly. He poured more out over her head and let it flow through her hair.

Not even the treacle had made Hayley feel this dirty. She imagined the sight of her head, now dripping and midnight black, and couldn't control her breathing. Oil ran down her arms and legs. The man had almost finished pouring it over her, and instead of completing the job poured the last of the oil over his gloved hands. Then he knelt down in front of her and pushed her thighs apart. One hand reached forward and a leather gloved finger touched her pussy.

Hayley shuddered. Her muscles were melting. She felt slippery all over, even inside. His finger slipped inside to the first knuckle. Hayley rocked back and forth on the chair, her hands balled up into fists.

Her rope bonds were covered in oil.

As the Phantom Flan Flinger pressed further with his finger Hayley had a crashing orgasm and her hands pulled free of their bonds. Simultaneously the chair flipped backward and her right foot flew into the air, catching the man neatly under the chin. Hayley landed flat on her back, legs in the air, in a dead faint. The man crashed to the floor a half second later, knocked out cold.

To be continued...


That's all I've come up with so far, I had some ideas for where to go next but none of them really appeal that much... anyone want to suggest further developments I'll certainly give them a listen. Cheers.

[Hayley]

Hi

Got nothing against plots!! I just wanted to encourage people who (like me) aren't very good of thinking them up and so they too could give me their fantasy sploshing.

I like the haunted house idea. Plenty of scope for poltergeists who throw food around, walls running with custard etc. Horror parodies are ideal for sploshing. Hey how about The Messorcist? With me tied to a bed possessed by sploshing demons who throw stuff over me? Sorry, probably a bit rubbish...

Anyway, I hope somebody does a part two...the oil was wonderful.

Love
Hayley

[driversoft]

Pieday the 13th, anyone?