"Dunk Tank by Jenna Zee"
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URL: https://pastebin.com/PrPp5eLh
Created on: Friday 9th of December 2016 07:47:53 PM CDT
Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:24:17 AM UTC


Dunk Tank
by Jenna Zee

It was a sunny afternoon at the County Fair, and I was in one of those dunk tanks. People were watching, cheering, laughing, eating caramel apples. I was naked, shivering, cold and very frightened.

I had been wearing a bikini when I first started. A string bikini. It was bright pink with yellow seahorses taking the place of polka dots. It was still there, in fact, hanging by a couple of strings from the ceiling. I could have put it back on if I had wanted, but it would just have come off again. Being naked and being seen by hundreds of happy fairgoers was the least of my worries right then. My biggest concerns were two valve controls, high above my head. They were spring-loaded so I needed to somehow keep them pulled down, turning off the flow of water into the dunk tank, if I had any hopes of survival.

The dunk tank's design and construction are important. It was a box, about four feet square and about nine feet high. The walls were made of clear Lucite so I could see out and, more importantly, everyone outside could see in. My predicament was their entertainment. That's why most of them were smiling and laughing.

The two valves that had the bulk of my attention were near the top of the tank, high enough that I couldn't reach them. Even if I could jump that high, which I couldn't; two manacles around my ankles were looped together with a two-foot chain that passed through a metal ring on the tank floor, making it impossible for me to rise more than a foot off the floor. Fully extended, I still would have been about a foot short of actually reaching either one of them.

That wasn't the only problem. The valves were on opposite corners of the tank, about five feet apart, so even if I could reach one, I still wouldn't be able to reach the other. Not at the same time, anyway. Either one that wasn't being actively held down would open a valve of cold water that flowed into the tank through holes in the ceiling, making it look and feel like rain.

There was a sling, though, attached to the two actuator levers, and that's how I could keep the water from pouring in continuously. I did that by either sitting in or lyng across the sling, using my body weight to pull down on the two levers.

At that moment the tank had about two feet of water in it, a little past my knees when I was standing. When I first got in it was completely dry. Then the entertainment started. I'm sure you know how a dunk tank works. After paying for a chance to throw three balls, people would aim at a small target to my left. If they hit the target with enough force, it would release a connector on the sling, the sling would break apart, and I would fall into the water. That was the dunking part.

Of course the first time, when the tank was still dry, I simply fell onto the floor. That's when my bikini came off. The dunk tank operator tied a couple of strings to the ties on my bikini top and bikini bottoms, making them just tight enough so that once I fell the ties would all be pulled loose.

There had been nothing stopping me from putting it back on, of course, other than falling from the sling caused other problems; problems that were a lot more urgent. With my weight no longer helping the sling to pull down on the two levers, the water turned on and it started to rain inside the tank. And with no drain to let the water out, it started filling with water. Cold water.

I hurried to my feet and untangled myself from my bikini. I wasn't anxious to show my naked body off to the people watching, but any time I took to put it back on was time the water would still be running, and getting the water turned off was my first priority. Personal modesty was a distant second.

Once on my feet, I reached for the two parts of the sling that had separated and reattached them to the target's actuator. Once I did that all I had to do was sit down again and the water shut off. Until someone hit the target again.

I looked around after that first spill. The water was probably only a half-inch deep. The crowd was cheering. I wasn't sure if they were cheering for me or for the ball thrower. I looked at my bikini, now tangled in the sling's webbing. I considered putting it back on, now that the water was off and I had a little time. But I knew it would just come off again. If I put it on, there was a risk of getting tangled in it. That could cost me some valuable time later. It was better to leave it off, I reasoned. Besides, looking at the crowd that had gathered, seeing me naked was going to be a big part of the entertainment for them. And ultimately that's why I was in the tank in the first place, to provide them some entertainment.

I'd been in the dunk tank for almost twenty minutes before someone hit the target hard enough to start the water. I did the math. At 5'2" tall, I figured I would be fine until the water got a little over four feet deep: say 50 inches. My seat on the sling was probably about two feet above the tank floor, and then my upper body was probably another two feet above that. If I figured an average of even fifteen minutes per dunking, with a half inch of water being added each time, that would raise the water level in the tank about two inches per hour. That meant it would take almost twenty-five hours to fill the tank to a point where I'd have to start doing more than just sitting to keep the valves closed. The fair closed at midnight, and the tank operator assured me that if I was still alive by that point they'd let me out and I could go home. I was starting to think maybe I would be okay. I thought maybe I'd just be getting a little wet. Surely, I thought, that made more sense than actually wanting to see me drown. Didn't it?

As more people came along and saw what was happening, the stronger and more accurate ball throwers also started to appear. That meant the water was coming in faster than I imagined, and after about five hours it was nearly two feet deep, meaning I was already sitting in cold water.

Although it was a warm day, the cold water raining down on me made my nipples stick out. which drew more curioius onlookers. The cold also slowed my reaction times a little, and shivering fingers made it continually harder and harder to reattach the sling for sitting. I still had about two feet to go before the  water would be deep enough to give me troubles breathing, but it worried me that the water was coming up faster than I thought.

Thngs slowed down a little between early afternoon and evening. By then the water level was up to the bottoms of my breasts but there was still a lot of time before closing. I was shivering, not just from the cold but also from fear, as I realized my chances of making it were slowly growing smaller and smaller. The biggest crowd of fairgoers would be arriving now after work, and watching me drown in the dunk tank was going to get more and more popular as the evening went on.

The water level kept slowly rising. Since I was already sitting in the water, dunking me and creating a big splash wasn't the entertainment it would be if this was a regular dunk tank. The part that everyone wanted to see was how long it would take me each time to find the two sling connectors and reconnect them. Each time I sat back in the sling I was very aware of how much the water level had risen during that time.
« Last Edit: October 05, 2016, 05:53:41 pm by jenna »
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Re: Dunk Tank
« Reply #1 on: October 19, 2015, 06:13:47 pm »
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Eventually the water level was just below my nose when I was sitting. I could still breathe, for now, but I knew the next ball to hit the target would be the start of some real problems. I could stand, or course, and be easily clear of the water, but standing I wouldn't be able to keep the valves closed as easily.

When it happened, I quickly found the two sling conncectors and reattached them. I sat back in the sling, measuring the water's depth. I could still sit in the sling and breathe, but only by tilting my head backward a little.

After two more hits on the target, that strategy stopped working. Even with my head tilted back the water was in my nostrils, forcing me to push up off the sling seat to get air, then falling back down. Each time I rose up for a breath the water would turn on briefly until I sank back down. I'd lost track of the time, but I knew I still had several hours to go till midnight and this strategy was merly delaying the inevitable. I was going to drown, it was just a question of time.

As the water got a little deeper, I tried kneeling on the sling instead. It was awkward to do with the manacles on my feet, but it put my head almost a foot higher than it was when I was sitting, and for a while I could easily keep the two levers pulled down that way and still breathe. I looked out at the crowd. Everyone was smiling and laughing, obviously being entertained. It was dark now, almost nine o'clock. I still had three hours to go. There was a chance, I realized. Just enough of a chance to keep me from giving up. All I needed was a few more ball-throwers with bad aim or weak throws. Hitting the target wasn't guaranteed to dunk me after all. It had to be a direct hit with plenty of force. With just a little luck, I might, I reasoned, hit a streak of bad throwers, and then maybe, just maybe, the crowd might give up and disperse enough, heading for home, as it got closer to the fair's closing time. It wasn't much, but it was a chance. 

By ten-thirty, the water level was up to my nose again when kneeling. Two more target hits later and I was forced to keep my head tilted back to breathe. I was so close to making it.

By eleven o-'clock there was no way for me to put my weight on the sling and keep my face above water. I was forced to  push up out of the sling, turning on the water as I got a breath of air, then hold it as I sank back down, using my weight to shut off the water again.

The crowd looked a little smaller now. A little. But if anything, they also looked more determined. They sensed I was running out of choices, and wanted to see it. I watched as the very best ball throwers stepped up to see what they could do. These were all strong, athletic-looking guys who knew what they were doing. If they didn't have the money to buy three pitches, there was always someone there willing to pay for them, just in hopes of seeing me drown. Watching it, knowing I had just one hour to go, but knowing it was far, far too long, I started to cry. I was going to die.

When the next pitch knocked me from my perch, I grabbed the two sling ends and stood up, pulling down on the two ends without connecting them. to the target That shut off the water, but it was cheating and the crowd booed their disapproval. It also didn't do much to solve my problem. Standing, I was about the same height above the floor as I was kneeling in the hammock - a little shorter, actually, and so I still couldn't breathe and keep the water off at the same time. To breathe, I had to push up to the surface of the water, releasing  tension on the two sling ends which allowed water to pour in. That made the crowd cheer.

I gathered my fingers into the sling webbing a little higher as I took a deep breath,  then sank back down. The crowd booed their disapproval again when I didn't reconnect the sling to the target, essentially taking away their part in the the game's outcome, but I didn't care. Screw them. I was fighting for my life.

I rose up again to get another breath. As I floated up, it was impossible for me to keep enough tension on the sling ends to keep the levers pulled down, and so I found myself gasping for breath in a cold, pouring rain. Knowing it would cost me valuable time, I kicked my legs, turnning to get a look at the clock. Another half-hour. That's all I had left. I could do it. I just needed to control my breathing and not panic.

It's hard not to panic when you're cold and feel like you're going to die. I was so close. If only the water would stop pouring in. If only the chain holding me down was longer. If only I could speed up time by a few minutes. If only I was taller. There were so many little things that could make the difference, and I thought back on all the times I'd been a little slow getting the water shut off after someone had hit the target. How many precious fractions of an inch had those times cost me? Fractions of an inch I would dearly love to have back.

It was so unfair and I couldn't help crying again. As the tears flowed down my cheeks, I couldn't help thinking how they only made my problem worse, making the water that much deeper and adding to my predicament.

The crowd saw my tears and cheered. Most of them cheered. They sensed it. They sensed I was figthing a losing battle. A few, I thought, did look appropriately horrified. A few looked like they would rescue me if they could. I looked at those few, my eyes pleading. I knew they couldn't do anything, though. It wasn't part of the show. If they tried, they'd quickly be restrained by others who preferred to see me struggle.

The crowd noise was naturally muffled whenever my head was under the water, but it seemed to me they grew distinctly quieter during those times. Maybe. It was something in their look; they just looked suddenly quieter for that minute or so. They appeared to be briefly more subdued. It was like they were anticipating something. Anticipating my last breath, probably.

But then, as I pushed up and gulped for air, the water would begin to flow again and I'd hear a huge cheer go uo from the crowd. I couldn't tell if they were cheering for me or for the water. Probably a little of both.

But the water was winning.

I estimate I had just five or ten minutes to go when I pushed up to get another breath of air and found the chains on my ankles holding me just a fraction of an inch short of my goal. I struggled and kicked, trying deperately to get my face clear. For a second the crowd's cheers rose up and then quickly died down to an almost surreal silence. This might be it, they were thinking.

I tried not to panic. I somehow managed to get what I hoped was enough air to last me for a while and then slowly sank back to the floor of the tank, pulling down on the two sling pieces as I did, stopping the flow of water. I could tell when it was off because I didn't hear it hitting the surface of the water anymore.

I knew I was in trouble, though. I didn't know how much deeper the water was now, but it had been hard enough getting that last breath. If I went back up, releasing the valves and allowing more water into the tank, there was a chance I wouldn't be able to get a breath at all. I was safe for now, but only until my breath ran out. My only hope I knew was to somehow make it to midnight. I strained to see the clock again. It was blurry, but there was no doubt I still had five minutes. I was so, so close. Five minutes! I wanted to cry again, but knew now wasn't the time.

Bitterly, I thought about the tears I had shed earlier, and wondered again just how much they had increased the water's level. I knew it wasn't enough to make a difference, but somehow just the same I found myself regretting them, wishing I could have them back. I even thought about drinking as much water as I could to lower the water level, but knew I would just be wasting my time.

I watched the clock from beneath the water, willing it to go faster, but no matter how much I wished, it was like the minute hand refused to move. My lungs were already burning and the clock's minute hand stayed stubbornly pointed at XI, eleven. Five stupid, lousy minutes!

I couldn't wait. I pushed off, determined to make the surface quickly, grab a breath of air, then quickly sink back. I only had to last five more minutes.

But the surface wasn't there anymore. It was tantalizingly close. I could feel it occasionally. I just couldn't get my mouth or nose to reach it. I struggled. I kicked. I panicked. The water was pouring in as I let go of the sling pieces and clawed my way to the surface. I felt the manacles biting into my legs as I kicked and strained, wanting just one more gulp of air.

It worked, somehow. Somehow I felt air. I gasped and breathed in, just as a wave caught me, forcing me to take in air mixed with water. I coughed, gagging, and sank back down, coughing into the water. I fought my way back up again, screaming for help, but getting a mouthful of water instead.

Now I was desperate. I kicked again, feeling the manacle cuttng into the flesh of my ankle. If I'd been strong enough, I would have torn it off. If only it wasn't there, I could do this. The crowd was starting to get louder. They were cheering wildly. I let myself believe their cheers were for me, that they wanted to see me win. I couldn't see the others who looked terrified for me. I couldn't see the ones who were holding their breath with me, as if by so doing they might somehow help me hold mine.

But I couldn't. I had nothing left. I got something. It wasn't much, but for a second or two my lungs stopped burning and I sank back down. I knew, and the crowd knew, it had been my very last breath.

Beneath the water panic left me. I looked around in a daze, searching for the two sling ends. I knew it would make no difference, now. Too much water had already come in before I could pull down and turn it off. How I'd managed to get a breath the last time I didn't know, but whatever chances I had then were almost certainly gone now. I looked at the clock, bitterly seeing the stubborn minute hand was still a tantalizing three minutes away from midnight. Three minutes. I estimated I had just one.

Knowing it would be one of the last things I would ever do, I connected the sling pieces back to the target's actuator. At least I wouldn't die a cheater, I thought, as I looked out at the crowd.

In that moment for some reason I remembered I was naked. I knew I didn't have the energy to bring myself to orgasm, but I could still bring a smile to the faces watching me. I could still entertain them. I started to play with my pussy as I fondled my breasts. I could hear the crowd cheering madly. And this time I knew the cheers were for me