Chapter 7 - vii: paris and irresponsibility

After that I didn't see any of my fellow "competitors" for the rest of the evening. It turned out there were multiple store rooms. We had all decided to go to different one's to pick up our traps, obviously trying to avoid espionage. The traps themselves came in a variety of different types. Paints, Powders, even an entire old-fashioned loom, which for the strangest reason had me fiddling with my bra strap. In the end I set one trap, but did so in what I hoped was a fairly clever way. But knowing the circumstances I had a feeling I wouldn't know until the evening. So, in order to avoid potentially suffering any of Tahiti's left-over traps I hid out in my room. Till night fall I kept myself preoccupied either by stressing out or posing a bit in the mirror. It made me feel just a little bit like a self-conscious teen trying on a training bra, but it helped a little. As the evening stretched on, I became somewhat sure that I'd gotten off scot free without any magical interference. Until mid boob squeeze, the mirror warped and changed right in front of me.

But unlike the previous night it wasn't swapped to Dakota overindulging in culinary delights. It was Paris, the blonde nerd was wandering down one of the houses many hallways. Pushing up her spectacles and glancing intermittently at her notebook. It was pretty clear she was on the prowl for those conclusions she had been bragging about earlier. Till mid glance down she saw what looked like a discarded beer can by a slightly ajar door. As her eyes locked with the discarded detritus, mine locked with the mirror which had been subtly rippling like water. It was a hypnotizing sight, the way it bobbed and weaved in motion. At the same moment we both began to reach towards the prospective items that had our attention. Her for the can, me for her rippling reflection of her displayed in the magical mirror. As our fingers made contact, everything blacked out for me, as the world faded from view.

Paris had been fairly sure this was the right floor for the "Arcane Vault" she had spied on the map. But she had never exactly had the best sense of the direction. It seemed the most logical place from which to disprove this whole wizard hoax. But she couldn't deny the only thing she hated more was charlatans was litter bugs. So, the can so blatantly discarded onto perfectly good hard wood flooring got her inner green peace mighty annoyed. But of course, as she clutched it and held it up, the question became how to discard it safely for herself, the strange man's house didn't exactly seem modernized. Yet now that she was holding it, she couldn't help but hear the oddest sound emanating from the room it had originated from. It was the bumping bass of modern pop music. She was more into Mozart but she had been subjected to the radio enough to recognize it. It seemed so oddly incongruous to the rest of the house. Oddly intoxicating in its consistent rhythm and bubbly beat. She found herself unable to do anything but slowly walk towards it. At the very least, she reasoned, they'd probably have a trash can for her to throw away the can.

As she stepped over the doorframe though it seemed as though as she had entered another world. Suddenly light flashed before her eyes, the music increasing to a fairly immense volume, and suddenly the presence of warmth, as throngs of people filled her view. A quick glance around confirmed her suspicions, it was obviously some sort of degenerate house party. One of the ones she had heard about but never been invited too. Almost immediately her shyness began to envelope her as she found herself swallowed by the tides of people surrounding her. This was not a place for a girl as decidedly under socialized as she was. Slowly she could feel it all start to swallow her up a little, the loud noises, the bright light, all the people. It all seemed a bit too much for her. Till an unexpected sound began to pierce her sensory prison, a voice. "Come on girl, we told you wouldn't have a good time unless you got a little booze in you" the voice reasoned. Its tone was hypnotic and all too familiar. While she couldn't quite place it, the voice was clearly a close friend of hers. She didn't really have enough of those to afford slighting them. Besides, the voice was probably right, while she had never partaken in alcohol before she was well aware of its uses as a social lubricant.

Slowly she brought the sloshing, full can to her lips, and started to take a sip. That was surely all she needed given her lack of tolerance. But as the golden bubbly liquid hit her mouth, a realization hit her enchanted brain like a double decker bus. It actually tasted really, really good. Unable and rather unwilling her sip turned into a deep drink of the tasty liquid. As it did, she could feel the unfamiliar warmth of weak alcoholic buzz wash through her body. She could feel it pouring down her frame, making her feel relaxed wherever it touched. Although somehow she also couldn't help but feel a strange sensation like her clothes becoming tighter wherever it touched. Some voice in her mind told her to look down for even a moment. To pay attention to her chest and stomach, and the fact they had started to swell as she was drinking away at the liquid. But that voice was soon silenced as the warmth reached there to. Buried beneath the relaxing sensations of freedom from her social anxiety.

As the heat of the delicious beverage fully suffused her body, she finally let the can fall away from her thirsty lips. She had trusted her friends of course, but she couldn't have expected it'd feel quite this good. Everything that had once been bothering her just didn't seem so bad anymore. The large thronging crowds or the unfamiliar sensation of the social situation. It all just felt so far away and bubbly. In fact, in spite of herself she couldn't but start tapping her feet to the music a little. It wasn't Mozart, but something about it was hitting her inebriated self just right. Slowly the foot tapping turned to swaying from side to side. She just couldn't seem to stop herself, it just felt so right. "Yeah come on girl, let loose" the friendly voice said, it's tone bubbly and floaty as it bounced around her mind. It had been right about the booze, surely, it'd be right about this as well. Slowly she let herself let ago as she began to put her hips into her swaying like she had seen in the movie. As the crowd shaped around her movements, they became increasingly bold. She was dancing. Not particularly well, but with the wild passion of a girl finally cutting loose. The energy of the crowd swallowed her and she disappeared into the flashing light and grinding limbs. Their wild caresses now more exciting than terrifying. The alien sensations of hands running across her body felt strangely good. Though some struggling to survive anxious part of her couldn't help but have a question. Why did it feel like her stomach was brushing off things? She didn't like that thought much though, and it disappeared like a popped bubble as she brought the booze to her lips again.

After a time of pure bliss dancing swallowed by the crowd, she felt it spitting her out again like a most pleasant sort of monster. It seemed there was a small gap in the house party an oasis in the ocean of party where a leather couch was established with a lone fold up table. A large pizza simply laying there for anyone to take at their discretion. Normally she would've been far too shy to eat from the open buffet of party food. After all food like that was simply terribly unhealthy for you, there was all sort of biological studies on it. But she was drunk, and had worked up a sweat and a fledging apatite dancing amongst the crowd. She stumbled over and almost fell onto the comfortable leather recliner which gave away with a comfy well-worn sort of creak. But also, a strange pinging sound that seemed to emanate from closer to home. At first in her stupor Paris was fairly sure it was just some part of the couch mechanism. But a quick glance at herself illuminated the truth. She was bloated, and somehow thicker. Her breasts were overflowing her blouse, which had been buttoned down a little in her partying. Beneath it was a round orb laden with lard and tight with excess, resting between two parted thighs that looked soft and decidedly unexercised. Like the product of the fresh man 15 she had so easily avoided. Some part of her began to awaken from the slumber the booze was putting her in. Something was wrong, she wasn't a portly wild child beneath the surface. Yet in a single motion the thought was drowned again as she poured more of the sweet bubbly substance down her throat. She was probably just drunk and seeing things. Besides, she was feeling awfully hungry for a supposedly "fat" girl...and that pizza was looking mighty appetizing.

What felt like a few hours of partying later Paris stumbled out of the strange room, plastered and half undressed like a sorority girl who had downed too many. Bearing the pudge of a girl who's only exercise was partying while slinging back beers and fast food. Slowly she began the sluggish sway back to her room, an empty can falling out of her hand and hitting the floor to some drunken giggling. As it banged against the floor, I felt myself snap free...and I was once more staring at my own reflection.