floating

"It won't work," I squeaked.

"Yes it will. You always say that, " Lynn admonished me, in her high-pitched voice.

"Because it always doesn't work," I pointed out.

If you had walked into our dorm room and found myself and my roommate, Lynn both of us pumped up with enough helium to have our figures bulging with gas and our extra-large bodies floating and bouncing against the ceiling, you might find that odd. I know I would.

“Our little project has come to fruition,” I said. “I think it’s time.”

“I’ll be right over,” she said excitedly, and hung up the phone.

Kim wasn’t fat. Curvy, yes, a little overweight, okay--but as a dancer, well, every line that isn’t straight is considered a detriment. She’d approached me to create a solution that would help her lose weight fast in time for the dance concert. What she didn’t know is that I’d failed spectacularly. Nothing worked, and a handful of lab rats with gastrointestinal distress was hardly a sign of success.

I woke up surrounded by a group of incredibly huge-breasted women.

Now, that's not unusual in itself; that happens to me a lot. But the strange thing was the way they were dressed. They seemed to be wearing multicolored uniforms of a spandex-like material bearing various military insignia. They had strange headsets that looked like com-links, and their long hair flowed freely from beneath these headsets.

One of the women, a tall brunette, spoke into her com-link. "He's up."

I glanced down, wondering what she meant, but then I realized she meant I was awake.