The Clumsy Apprentice

"You did what?" What on earth was I hearing? She repeated herself, she was very apologetic but hadn't been concentrating and had made an error in the process ingredients. She was dithering, refusing to make eye contact with me so I knew this was anything but good news... "Show me!"

She led the way, from my office on the first floor of the factory, we paced down the catwalk towards the vats. Here, below us were huge, stainless steel containers of Britain's finest confectionery. For almost two hundred years my family had been making sweet delights, from our famous liquorice to the soft caramel toffees and it was that which the hapless Jane, our latest apprentice was pointing towards.

I should have been looking at twenty thousand gallons of rich, golden buttery caramel, swirling as the massive stirrer kept it moving. I knew that, if she had done her job right, it would taste amazing. Yet, as I glanced down at the vat my heart sunk.

"It's green?" I paused, looking again, no, sadly my eyes had not deceived me, the mix, far from being golden and appetising was a form of neon green, swirling like a witches brew and certainly not something which could grace the thousands of packs of Winterton's Christmas Selection boxes which needed to be sent out this week.

She stuttered apologies behind me. She was a lithe girl, in her thirties which was old for an apprentice, but she had begged to join the company, pleading she was bored of her current work and desperate to do something new. I'd smiled, we needed more hands in the run up to Christmas and, so far she had been very efficient and professional. However, well, Christ! What was I to do?

The answer was that the batch had to be destroyed, we had huge skips, specially lined with thick plastic where this batch could be pumped out before it set into a solid, snot coloured lump. Jane said she would do it, she was more than willing to try to make up for her mistake.

I nodded. There was nothing that could be done. Accidents happen, and she looked so upset I knew this could not have been a deliberate action.

***

I swore to myself. I had been so stupid, instead of pressing the touch screen and pumping liquid molasses into the batch my finger had slipped. I tried to stop it, but by the time I hit the e-stop it was too late, the batch was ruined.

So now, here I was, alone in the factory, hours after the rest of the staff had left, I was tasked with pumping out the ruined caramel and creating a proper batch. Surely, this was something I couldn't mess up?

The foreman had shown me what to do. Hook up the huge hose to the bottom of the tank, switch on the pump, making sure the hose was lashed down onto the top of the fifteen-foot tall skip. He had told me it would fill almost all the skip. So I had attached the hose with a rope, tightened the other end of the hose onto the vat and engaged the pumps. There was a whirring, the hose started to slither and I could hear the skip filling.

It took almost an hour for the vat to be empty. I walked towards the skip. What happened next was clearly a total idiot move. I saw that I hadn't bolted the door closed properly, the door was being held by the safety catch and not the full bolts. Of course, the heavy melted toffee was currently held in place by the plastic lining, but this was bowing, the surface of the plastic-looking more like an overfilled balloon and in imminent danger of failing. I needed to get this sorted quickly. I grabbed the handle, turning it to lock it fully, however before it clicked home there was a sudden crack. The door flew open and I was flung back, gasping as a Tsunami of green suddenly broke from the skip. The liner had finally failed to hold back the weight of the green mess. I leapt up, but was too late, I was washed from my feet, carried across the factory floor by the flow of warm caramel. I prayed my fate wasn't to drown in toffee and be found by my colleagues tomorrow morning, trapped like a fly in aspic, so I was relieved when the flow ebbed away.

The good news was, I hadn't drowned, the bad news was I was totally stuck, the caramel was up to my neck and I was trapped against one of the vats. Groaning, I tried to move my hands, but the rapidly cooling caramel was becoming solid. I called out, but the factory was totally empty.

My only hope was a chain which I saw was hanging above me. If I really leaned forward I could grab the handle at the end of the chain between my teeth. If I could grab that I might, just might be able to pull myself free.

It was the longest of long shots as I grunted and strained but eventually managed to get the bit between my teeth as it were. I gripped hard and pulled, hoping to free my body. Of course, I should have realised that a chain with a handle besides a huge vat would have a purpose in this factory. But, by the time my confused mind had worked this out, it was too late.

Something soft hit me with a 'whump', I had been swept to the loading point of the vat I was pinned against, the location where mobile tanks would have been filled to add to the process. I gasped as my world turned dark.

***

My view as I stepped into the factory was extraordinary. There had obviously been a flood, I could see the skip hanging open, the green goo coating the floors and vats. This had obviously been sabotage. There could only be one culprit, clearly she had been pissed off at being left to clean up, or worse she was a mole from one of our rivals and had deliberately set out to destroy our factory. Well, she had done a pretty good job before clearly fleeing the scene.

I glared at the thick layer of green, now set toffee which covered the floor and had lapped up against the storage vats. Shit! There was a second flood, this time a quantity of our fudge had been allowed to flow out onto the floor.

As I looked I saw that the fudge seemed to be formed in a strange shape. I slipped off my shoes and donned a pair of white welly boots, sloshing through the mostly set caramel. Unless I was very much mistaken, the fudge seemed to be moving slightly. As I approached I heard a muffled sound. I dug through the thick confectionary and found her. I gasped as I saw her set up to her neck in the combination of caramel and fudge. Her head had been covered, but the flow had quickly stopped before she was totally buried. I cleared her face.

I wanted to be angry, but one look in her frightened eyes made me realise that whatever had happened was clearly an accident. She babbled apologies before bursting into tears.

***

It was some hours later when she came to my office. The cleanup team had struggled but eventually, with warm water and a lot of work, Jane had been freed from her caramel prison. It was then more time for her to shower as much of the set toffee from her hair and body. She sat down in front of my desk, slightly tinged green and apologetic.

I had been able to review the CCTV footage and watch the disaster unfold. To be honest, I felt responsible for what had happened and told her as much. I told her to take the rest of the day off and go home, we would discuss this another day.

***

Oh, God. How humiliating... To make a stupid mistake and then compound it by being covered in rapidly setting toffee. Mr Winterton had been so nice about it. However, there was something else burning within me as I reached my flat. Yes, I had been scared by the experience. I thought I was about to drown. But, during those long hours, trapped in the embrace of the warm caramel and fudge I had felt something else. Once I stopped panicking about being trapped, a strange feeling had come across me, quite literally. I didn't know why, but suddenly I was having these strange thoughts. The feeling of being restrained in this unyielding mass, the humiliation of being discovered. What the hell was wrong with me?

When I eventually slipped into bed, I started to dream of being engulfed and found my hand slipping between my legs. I was horrified, but the thoughts excited me in a way I had never experienced before. As I came, the sweet scent of toffee still in my nose, I realised I had to experience it again.

***

Of course, it wasn't as if I could flood the factory again. Oh I was lucky to not lose my job, but Mr Winterton had been so nice. But there was an idea running through my crazed mind. I had never thought of the disposal skips before, but spent a good part of my working day asking questions. What do they contain? How do they work? I told people I wanted to learn to stop any more stupid mistakes, however, I had other, darker reasons.

I saw Mr Winterton before I went home. He stopped me to make sure I was doing okay. I assured him that I would never make that mistake again. He had laughed, agreeing that I had learnt an important lesson.

As the workers went home, I stayed. I told the foreman I had to stay to help clean up my mess. He had smiled and told me to ensure the door was pulled closed and locked when I left, and also not to work too hard.

When I was sure that the factory was empty I went to my goal, the waste product area. Here the batches which failed quality assurance, as well as the ends of runs, would be tipped into the huge skips which I had discovered the day before. They were huge with massive double doors at one end and a thick plastic lining. I had been told that, because often we disposed of liquids and sweet slurries, this saved the skips from becoming totally gooey. The whole load could be picked up and dumped at the landfill. Running beside each skip was a cat-walk, allowing you to look down into the load within. The first skip was almost empty, however, the second was half-filled, I could see a sloppy mess of a semi-solid, sweet mess. It was dark and tar-like, obviously, a bad batch of liquorice had been added along with toffee, chocolate, sweet fillings and other swirling patterns. The result was that the bottom of the skip was full with about two feet of a swampy, yet sweet-smelling mess.

There was a ladder on the inside of the skip, it was tricky to climb down as the heavy plastic lining covered the steps but I could just about get my toes into the rungs. I let myself down and sunk into the still warm mass. I gasped as I sunk to my hips, I could feel the weight of the sweet slop as it oozed through the thick fabric of my boilersuit. I was barefoot and the feeling of the thick mass around my toes was astonishing. I realised I wanted to become one with this mass, to submit to it.

I reached up, unbuttoning my boiler suit and sliding it down my body. I had worn a one-piece swimsuit beneath my working clothes for this very purpose, and, as I stepped out of the cotton suit and waded deeper, the sweet ooze flowed up my legs. I realised that the skip was on a slight incline, meaning that the area furthest from the door was deeper. I discovered this with a squeal of pleasure as my pussy sank into the mass and I felt the warm embrace of the thick liquid.

I had to experience more, so turned and allowed myself to fall into the mass. I hit the strangely yielding surface, which unlike water, held my weight allowing me to slowly sink until my body was beneath the surface, I pulled my head free, clearing my eyes and mouth. Looking down I had sunk into the dark mass, my body supported beneath the surface. I worked my hand into my swimsuit and, using the warm, thick mess started to rub myself. I imagined myself being chastised by Mr Winterton, as I felt the first moments of orgasm I pushed my head beneath the surface again and exploded, my body going limp.

It was sometime before I felt I could stand up. I had lain on the surface of the collected waste, enjoying the ebbing moments of a most unique experience. I stood up and slowly waded my way back to the ladder. I climbed up, totally deaf as my ears were plugged with toffee, note to self, I needed to bring earplugs next time. My body was heavy with the collected toffee and mixed gooey slop. I was in a world of my own as I got to the top of the ladder. I looked up, suddenly staring into the eyes of another. I screamed, letting go of the ladder. I fell into the mass below.

***

If I was, to be honest, I had never wanted to follow in my father's footsteps. But, here I was, thirty-two years old acting like a superannuated Willy Wonka. If my life was as exciting as his. Mine was all tax returns, salary bills and paperwork. Secretly the disastrous Jane and the mess she had caused had been a highlight of my year! Once I knew she was alright, I couldn't be mad with her. So what, we'd spilt some product. But, seeing her all coated in setting toffee... Oh my goodness, it made my mind freewheel.

'Snap out of it Simon.' I told myself. She was a beautiful woman and she didn't need to hear my creepy fantasy. That would be a rapid trip to a tribunal and, no doubt, the front page of the papers as the 'kinky confectioner'. I remembered the last time a story like that had broken. I sighed and unlocked the door, the end of year audit reports had to be completed and, as there was no one waiting for me at home, I felt I may as well pull an allnighter and get them done, alone.

As I walked through the empty factory I sniffed deeply. Oh, the smell of the mixed confectionery was always so amazing. I was lost in his own world for a moment when I heard the noise. What the hell was that? He followed the moans towards the waste processing area. Climbing the catwalk he had peered into one of the skips.

"Fuck!" I stopped myself as the word left my mouth. I looked down, tucking myself behind the wall of the skip. There was Jane, lying in the slop. I was about to leap down there, sure she was drowning, but I realised that her moans were anything but panicked. I felt I should tell her to stop or look away, but it was clear she was enjoying herself too much and, with the stiffening in my suit trousers it was obvious I was not averse to a free show. I gasped as she sunk below the surface, watching as she emerged moments later and lay, clearly exhausted.

As she made her way to the ladder I stepped up. She saw me and screamed, letting go of the ladder and landing in the skip, her body starting to sink. I vaulted the skip wall and leapt in, grabbing her and pulling her free. She was unconscious, she may have hit her head so I dragged her out and up the ladder, placing her on the catwalk. I was panicking, trying to get a signal to call an ambulance when she came round.

"Jane! Shit... Are you okay?"

***

What the fuck do you say? I stared up at my boss, his suit covered in syrup, clearly ruined. I was in a swimsuit which clearly prevented me saying 'sorry, I fell in.' What he said next made it a thousand times worse.

"I... well, I saw you... Well, you know..."

Oh, he was making no sense. And then, all at once, like the flood of toffee he made complete sense, he had seen me pleasuring myself in a skip of... Oh, fuck... I wanted to be angry, yell 'how dare you watch me...' I felt dirty and deeply humiliated.

"I'm sorry... I know I shouldn't have but..."

Was he biting his lip... He was certainly not making eye contact with me. I glanced down and saw. Well, I saw that he was clearly sporting a healthy erection in his sodden trousers. He saw me looking and stuttered, running away down the catwalk stairs.

I called after him, peeling myself off the floor and rushing after him. He had run to his office and closed the door.

***

Shit! Shit! It was clear she had seen I was aroused. Shit! Now she'll think I'm some sort of peeping Tom weirdo. She'll press charges... Fuck! I turned and ran, flinging myself into my office and slamming the door closed.

It was a minute or two when I heard the tentative knocking and she stepped inside,

"Look, Jane... I shouldn't have watched you doing... And I shouldn't be..."

Oh God, I thought he was going to cry. "Mr Winterton... Look, I should apologise, the accident was... It was an accident, but it made me feel funny..." I looked at the way he was looking at me. Oh, Christ, this was humiliating. "I don't know why, but being trapped like that turned me on... There, I've said it... I'll get my things. Unless you want to call the police and have me charged."

He looked up. "Police?" He said. "Why?" He looked honestly confused. "Look, if you're a splosher and wanted to play... Look I understand, it's me... I saw an amazingly beautiful woman and..."

I stopped him. "A splosher?"

"It's someone who enjoys getting messy. A person who plays with their food, or mud or whatever in a sexual way..." He was blushing. "Look." He opened his computer and clicked a favourite in his browser, there were pictures of women covered in custard, being pied. I glanced back at him. He was beetroot red. "Oh, I am so sorry..." He slammed the lid of the laptop shut and put his head in his hands.

I was unsure of what to do? The pieces started to slot into place, he had mentioned this 'sloshing' or whatever he had called it and had a link on his favourites, then he had clearly enjoyed watching me in the mess. Then the biggest thing struck me, thinking back he had called me 'amazingly beautiful'.

"Mr Winterton, did you just call me amazingly beautiful?"

He looked up, stuttering. "Shit! That's sexual harassment... Look, I didn't mean it, well... I did because you are... But..." I shut him up. Grabbing his jacket lapels I pulled him close and snogged him.

Then I stepped back, shocked. Had I just kissed him?

***

I was stuttering and making a mess of this. I had watched an employee pleasuring themselves and instead of announcing myself and sacking them on the spot, I had watched them before calling them beautiful and showing them a pornographic website on my work computer. I'd better get my lawyer on speed dial.

But she was amazing, she was lithe and pretty, calling her sexy had just slipped out. If I was, to be honest, I had a crush on this beautiful employee, but now the only way we were likely to talk was via solicitors. I had started to explain when she had grabbed me and kissed me. I had reciprocated, she had tasted so sweet as our tongues entwined. Eventually, we broke free and I stepped back.

"Call me Simon..." My voice sounded weak, I know my knees were...

***

I looked at him and laughed. He was such a handsome man but, it seemed he may have never really interacted with women. His kiss was as clumsy as everything else had been this evening. I opened my arms and embraced him. "Can we start again? Tell me all about splishing..."

It was sploshing, apparently and it was clear now that both he and I shared pretty similar interests. His kink was formed from a similar accident when he had been covered in a spill of golden syrup when he was a young man and had enjoyed the feel of it on his skin. He told me that, like me, he had enjoyed time alone covered in a sweet, sloppy mess. For a long time, he said, he thought he was mad, alone in this bizarre desire until he had stumbled on something on the internet and found that, far from being alone, he was amongst a large community.

He said that I could use the skips if I wished, he would ask no questions. He understood. I had pouted, shaking my head and when he questioned this I said, "what, all alone?"

Oh goodness, he was naive, he had blushed and almost needed me to explain in writing that I would like to try playing with him in the skip. However, once the idea settled, and he had questioned why I would like someone like him. Doh! Handsome, kinky, rich! I joked.

We stood beside each other on the catwalk, I slid my swimsuit off. His eyes were wide and his trousers hardly restrained his excitement. "Easy tiger!" I leaned over and started to remove his ruined jacket, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and then, teasing his trousers down. Soon, we were both naked. He was blushing, alternating between not knowing where to look and desperate to drink in my naked body. I was deeply flattered. Yes, I was slim, yoga and time in the gym saw to that. I wasn't massively endowed in the chest but it had always seemed ample enough for me.