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My Flamethrower Will be Useless Now... star star star star star


So, it would appear that fate has led you to this mysterious place, this labyrinth of rooms. The workings of the world are mysterious, indeed.

 

It's a pleasant sort of room, like a small spa one might find in a budget hotel. The floor is paved in white tile which continues up the walls and reaches a skylight in the ceiling from which white sunshine flows down. You run your hand over the rough grout between the tile, which is white and clean. A hole in the center of the floor some ten feet in diameter reveals a pool of clear water, reflections of which play up and down the tiled room in waves. Taking a deep breath, you jump into the pool, looking through the cold water for some sort of vent or tunnel. You find nothing; it's a perfectly solid cylindrical hole.

 

Emerging from the water, spitting decisively, you kick a few costumes out of the way and bang on the walls. Nothing; the door you entered no longer exists and an exit is just as mythical.

 

It would seem, then, that you have no choice but to actually do what the mysterious sign told you to do: try on a costume.

 

Brow furrowed, you survey the candidates.

 

Whale? Too big. Frog? Too common. Shark? Too creepy. Swordfish? Not quite.

 

But the *dolphin* costume, that has merit. Who could hate a dolphin, the cute revelers of the sea? If Captor X wants to see you dress up in costumes, then you could do worse.

 

Unfortunately, the suit is a skin-tight grey thing that zips up in front, a kind of one-piece pajama set with a hood, that flips up over your eyes. Forced to strip to your birthday suit, you squeeze into the tight outfit and flip the hood down, feeling the fin on top.

 

When completed, you hoist the flamethrower you'd kept on the floor onto your back, seventy pounds of jellied gasoline; maybe a door would open now.

 

...What? Don't look at me like that. You have a flamethrower, OK?

 

A tingling over your face interrupts your reverie.

 

The hood is spreading over the rest of your face! Clawing at it does no good; it flows over your face and into your mouth, over your teeth and into your body!

 

You claw at the zipper, feeling only your webbed hands on your cool grey flesh! The costume's tail tingles and swells as it becomes yours, flopping about madly over the tile. Your ears pinch and shrink, causing you to fall to your knees in dizziness!

 

"Arrrrgh...KEKEKEKE!" A dolphin chirp emenates from your mouth as your face pushes forward into a sturdy beak, consuming your nose and chin. Finally, air explodes from a blow-hole on your back as you gaze at the water drunkenly, staring at you... you as an anthropomorphic dolphin.

 

You have barely enough time to grope your beak before you're sucked into the pool in the center, flamethrower and all. Through the dark depths you go, the speed and vertigo causing you to black out.

 

When you come to, you're in a luxurious tropical lagoon somewhere, lying on your back half-in and half-out of the water. You groggily feel around for your flamethrower, but alas; she's gone to the depths, mate.

 

Having no better ideas, you opt to stare at the clouds for awhile.



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Illustrated by Catprog

Written by Mr.Peaches on 07 January 2007


The end (for now)

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