He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this at all. 
	He was a sheep, thin, nerdy, had glasses, a shy personality, high grades, low friend count, the least flashy kid at the college and short enough to be used as a table when he wore a sombrero. The definition of a student who doesn’t party, and yet, here he was, in a car with his best friend who dragged him into this, and they were heading to the penthouse. 
It wasn’t like this was a special time, in fact it happened every Saturday. The place was bought out by the richer college students who came for the social aspects instead of education, and they decide to throw parties there every week. Even though it was only the typical people who went there, the place was open to almost everyone. The only rules were be 21 and don’t be an ass (figuratively of course, donkeys were welcome). It was only special to Mick, since two days ago he was now capable of following those rules. He wasn’t really interested in going to the party, since he always pictured it to be where the bombastic and loudmouthed folks went to brag about how much they lift and other meathead things. But his friend Beul wanted to get him to go, and being the passive person he was, he couldn’t say no. 
“Hey, man. You alright?”
It was Beul in the driver’s seat. He could tell that Mick was fading off into his thoughts again. 
“W-wh-? Yeah, I’m fine.” He at least hoped he was. He tried his best to be presentable for his party. He specifically wore contacts and bought some top tier shampoo to fluff his wool up so he looked nice. Nervously he brushed his hands on his shirt, hoping it looked clean enough. 
“You are way too paranoid about this. You just need to go in and have fun. Literally how you are acting right now is the only way they won’t like you.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come.” 
“Don’t say that. You just need to loosen up. Besides, if you really hate it, after tonight you will never need to go again. Now look alive we’re here.” The rabbit put his car into park and popped the trunk. Climbing out of the car, the little sheep went to the trunk to see what was in there and saw a pair of six packs of beer. “It’s for the party. It’s usually good nature for everyone to bring something so they have enough and variety. Take one pack and I’ll take the other.”
Awkwardly he reached over the edge of the trunk and lifted up a pack, and began to walk away with it in both hands. 

Upon arriving at the door, Mick could hear the loud music way too clearly through it. This was not going to be fun. Beul walked up and knocked on the door as hard as possible. Mick winced at the sound, knowing that it probably hurt, before trying to straighten himself out once more. As the door swung open, he was greeted by a wolf. “Hey guys! Welcome to my place! Come in!” He greeted.
That was…rather polite. He always thought the owner would be an arrogant jerk. Walking into the place Mick looked around and spotted all the people there. There were the people he expected, loud, arrogant, not paying attention and breaking things, but then there were other people. Some where just standing around and chatting. He even recognized some of them from his more prestigious classes. 
“You can put the beer in a cooler. It should be in the kitchen, over there.” The wolf pointed off to the left. Beul thanked him and walked off as Mick followed behind. In the kitchen, there were about ten coolers packed with ice and bottles, as well as a stack of metal kegs. The room was strangely empty, maybe it was the storage area for the alcohol?
Beul walked over to the coolers and placed his beers spread out in the coolers and grabbed a new bottle for himself. Mick followed suit but instantly got lost looking at the chaos in the coolers. “Don’t organize them.” Said Beul, glaring at the sheep. Right, just put the beers in. He scattered the beers throughout the coolers and picked some random brand before walking off to meet Beul again. “You need to open the beer.” Oh, right! Taking his shirt in his hand, he twisted the top off. “Now go meet some people.” What?
Mick turned to Beul to ask him what he meant, but turning around he saw that he was already gone, lost within the crowds at the party. “Hey man, you seem nervous. You alright?”
The voice made the sheep jump. He seemed to fumble with the beer, spilling it a bit, before finally catching it and looking up. It was the wolf again. “Y-yeah, it’s just my first time at an event like this.”
“I can tell, I could feel the tension on you before I opened the door.”
“Sorry.”
He just laughed. “No, no it’s fine. It’s always a bit scary on the first visit to this place. All the stories of people trashing the place, throwing things off the balcony, and just being a public disturbance, it could definitely scare some people away, especially a nerd like you.”
“Are those stories true?”
“Absolutely. The longer the party goes for, the drunker they get, and it becomes a bit chaotic. It’s all in the means of having fun though. I’m a bit surprised you came at such a late time though, wouldn’t you rather be here earlier when not so many people are drunk?”
“I-I had to finish a few assignments first.”
	“Ah, well, watch where you go here. Someone your height might get kicked over by a tipsy tiger and they would have no clue. If it ever becomes too much, go outside. I usually wrangle all the drunks so they stay in, but if you need me, you can find me near the doorway.” With a wink, the wolf walked off. “Oh, by the way! The name’s Vin!” He yelled over his shoulder before entering the crowds.
Mick could only smile at him as he watched him go, before going off on his own way, over to the balcony.

Leaning on the railing, Mick sighed to himself. He was about twenty five stories up right now. The air was clear and crisp for an autumn day in the city. The view was equally perfect, with the stars showing themselves in beautiful arrays, yet all Mick looked at was down the neck of the bottle in his hand. They were right, both of them. He was way too stressed about this. Luckily, he seemed to have the key to solving this in his hands, and with his small size and empty stomach, this should hit him in seconds. The question was, should he go through with it? It’s alcohol, and every adult he’s met has hammered into his head the negative affects of it, but on the other hand he was of age now, and he was capable of making his own choices. 
Tipping the bottle back, he dropped about a spoonful into his mouth and swished it around, trying to get a feeling for it. He winced at its taste. Bitter. Bitter, sour, burning, and not good at all. Why would people drink this? It was like poison, and yet, looking at the bottle, he went for a second swig. Soon enough the drink was gone, and *Uurhe* he let out a light burp into his hand. Blushing a little, he looked around at nobody in particular to see if anyone saw that shameful display, but seeing as how everyone was inside, the shame left him quickly. It was probably foolish, downing his first ever beer in two seconds, and yet he did it. It felt like the bottle had a draw to it, called to him, like he’s done this before, and now he found himself walking back to the kitchen to grab some more. 
Staring at the many beers left, he concluded that he could take a few more without much trouble. He grabbed two in each hand and placed them aside, before grabbing a third and popping its cap. In seconds he chugged his second beer and walked off with his third and forth when he noticed the first one hit him. It felt, well, good, all things considered. Frozen there, half stride, he felt the need to savor this feeling. His form flushed under his wool as his mind’s usual worries faded away, like all of his tension was melting off of him right there. It was calming, releasing, like he suddenly stopped caring what others thought of him, and thought more highly of himself in the process. It was exactly what he needed to be free at this party, but now he had to make sure he kept this feeling. 
Walking back to the coolers, he sat down and began drinking the bottles in his hands. Soon enough, like the others, they were emptied down his gullet. Placing the bottles aside, Mick grabbed his now bloated gut. It was kind of gross, how he over a span of probably 5 minutes made his belly poke out from under his t-shirt, and yet it felt so right. Grabbing the top of his gut, he shook it aggressively, aggravating the carbonation within. Soon enough, another quiet *Hourp* slipped through his lips, followed with a light giggle as he felt the pressure in his gut grow a little. Blindly reaching over to another cooler, he grabbed a fifth. Lifting it to his mouth, he popped the cap with a tooth and took another sip when he spotted his arm in the corner of his drunken vision. 
Huh, that seemed off. Looking at the back of his right hand, he spotted a strange shiny spot. Slowly, he put the beer down and rubbed at it with his other hand only to feel it tug at his fingers. Lifting off his hand he saw as his fingertips now shared the same sort of material. He stroked his fingers over his right palm, and then rubbed his hands together, trying to figure out what it was until he heard a creak. That gave him the hint he needed. It was that stuff, the stuff that has good friction, what was it, rubber? Latex? Something like that, but squishier. Pushing one finger into his now coated palm, he felt it sink in a bit, as if it was putty. Pulling his hands back and now looking them over fully, he could see the strange material had spread down his wrists. Slowly, like molasses, the material crept its way over his form. Surely, looking at this, Mick would have panicked if he was sober, but his drunken mind could only look at it with curiosity and a sort of arousal. Yet again, like being drunk, this just felt right. Rubbing his hands together to make sure they were fully covered, he slapped them both into his puffy gut. The heavy thump once again lead to a strong fizz within him, but he managed to stifle his belch this time, resulting in him being slightly more bloated that before as the rubbery handprints on his gut began seeping across his form. Looking at the splotches on his gut, he noticed that instead of being black like on his hands, it matched the white wool that covered his body, meaning once it spread all over him, he should look relatively the same as before. 
But this wasn’t what he should think about right now. He has a beer to finish and a party to join, that’s why he came here after all right? Mick reached over haphazardly and downed the rest of the drink before lifting himself off the ground. Right as he went straight up, he almost went back down before just catching himself with a stumble onto a counter. Whew, that stuff hit him harder than he thought, and now he was suffering from both a weak-kneed, drunken walk and vertigo. It even felt like the floor was farther away!
Steadying himself with the same counter, he took slow steps forward before removing his hand and taking a successful step. He did have to relearn how to walk with this gut after all. Once confident in his abilities, he looked over at the counter to see that he left no residue behind on the counter, meaning that the goo on him was only sticking to him. Fascinated by this, he lumbered off into the next room, not realizing that the counter he leaned on was taller than him earlier that night.

Stumbling into another room, he found that he was now where the party actually was. The place was notably a bit more chaotic than before. Cups and bottles were scattered across the floor, and many more of the people there were swinging themselves around the open area in an attempt to dance with the music. There were still a few individuals conversing off to the side, and a table full covered in bowls of snacks, pizza boxes, and a big glass bowl most likely filled with an alcoholic punch. Not wanting to stand there and watch all night, Mick took one confident step forward before getting slammed into by an ecstatic horse. He was sent careening off to the side, and to the feet of a bundle of jocks.
“Whoa! Hey buddy, you alright?” One of them held a hand out to help him. Wanting to not be awkward, Mick accepted the hand and felt himself being pulled up off the ground. It was a cheetah. “Up n’ at’em there we go, haha. Oh, weird gloves you got on.” He let go of Mick and wiped his hand on his shirt. “Alright buddy, you good you fine? Oh man, you look familiar, like this small dork that’s around the school, only taller, and bigger.” He gave a backhanded smack onto his stomach, making Mick need to suppress another belch. Noticing that his gut was showing, he reached up and tried to pull his shirt down, but was unable to due to the tug of his stretchy spreading skin. “Aw, sorry man didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed that gut looks good on you. Anyways, who are you by the way? What’s your name? What’s up? That fall didn’t hurt anything, did it?”
“I-I’m Mick.” He stammers, trying to process how fast this guy was talking. “I’m fine.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Leandro Excalore Grandual Martinez. My family calls me the kookaburra of the pumpkin patch but you can call me Lee.”
“Nice *uurg* meeting you” Mick responds, letting out a small burp in the process. 
“Say, I’ve never seen you around the party before, are you new here?” 
“Yeah, first time.”
“Oh, nice, are you that new transfer student I heard about?”
“No, I turned 21 two days ago, making me legal to be here.” His drunken thoughts were making his speech weird.
“Did you do anything fun for your special day? Like have a party, drinks, a cake or dinner?”
“Not really, it was books and boring.” He had an exam yesterday, no real way to celebrate when you need to study for 10% of a grade. 
“Oh man, we need to do something for you.” Already having a plan, Lee turned to a crowd of others by a keg. “Hey Bren!” The Labrador with the hose looked up. “We got a birthday boy here! Set up a round of 21!”
“It’s not my birthday…”
Lee grabbed him by the arm, ignoring the latex feel of his wrist, and brought him over to a table. Sitting Mick down, he began to explain. “Alright, so for the game of 21, you are going to get 21 cups of beer, and what you need to do is try and drink as much as you can in one sitting.”
“That’s a lot of beer…”
“Like I said, drink as much as you can, no shame in not drinking them all. On the other hand, if you do, you’d become a legend.” Lee pat Mick on the shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “You ready?” Mick’s hand went to his gut, where it made a *sqrrk*. He could feel a gurgle from under his palm, but overall, his bloated form didn’t feel any strain, and so he nodded. “Alright, Bren, you got the cups ready?” The dog nodded, placing a stack of cups and dragging the keg over to the table. He grabbed the first three, placed them upright, and filled them with the hose as other partygoers began to watch with curiosity. “Go!”

Mick grabbed the first cup and glanced into it. They pumped the keg too much. It looked like it was all foam, and he wanted it to actually be beer, but with how Bren already filled 2 more cups, he was falling behind. He slammed back the frothy mess and cringed at its taste. There was no real flavor in it, it was just the sour taste of carbonation, and mostly air. He threw the cup to the side and reached for two more, trying his best to drink down the two at once. Obviously, this didn’t work too well, and despite getting most of it down, he was left with some froth sticking to his face. Dropping them, he reached for the next one and created a system, drink from one hand and grab another with the other. Each gulp of foam and beer filled his stomach and pushed it out a little more, each cup made his paunch grow into a dome with a rubbery sheen. When he leaned forward to grab his sixth, his stomach made a little *reik* against the table edge, and by the seventh, he needed to remove his shirt, which revealed the goo climbing up his neck. Cup 14 was when he no longer needed to lean forward for his gut to reach the table, and yet he kept going, as his mind went into a trance with the only objective being to consume alcohol. Leaning forward for cup 19, his middle squished so far onto the table he struggled to reach around it. Wanting to continue drinking, he aggressively sank his hands into the bulge that blocked his view, and let out a monstrous *BROUWOAH* that shook the shelves. 
As he reached for the final cup, his latex fingers tugged and gripped at the rim, pulling it lightly towards him but not bringing it close enough. The crowd around him just watched, mouths agape and minds reeling, trying to understand what was going on. They were called over because someone new to drinking was about to get destroyed from a challenge in exchange for a chance at fame, but what they got was a lamb who went from flesh to latex, inflating in gut size and growing in general, hammering down cup after cup with what seemed like an insatiable need. No one wanted to approach him, stop him, talk to him, nothing. The only two moving were Mick, lead by greed, and Bren, lead by fear. Soon enough, Mick grabbed the last cup and lifted it to drink it, when someone called his name.
“Mick?”
He turned his head but didn’t stop pouring the drink, dumping it all over his gargantuan balloon of a stomach. Realizing what he just did, Mick turned back around and grabbed his removed shirt to use it as a cloth to clean up the spill. He tossed the cup at Bren “Fill it up, I almost did it!” He complied, filling it without looking away and placing it back onto the table. Mick, on the other hand, began rubbing his shirt on his bouncy gut, only for it to come back dry. Dropping the shirt, he began rubbing over his belly with only his hands *kwk* *squeek* *Sknk*. It was dry. No signs of the dropped beverage, almost like the rubber…absorbed it. 
Looking back to see who called him, he saw Beul. “Hey buddy!” He shouted, turning in his chair. “Oh, wait one second!” He reached for the drink, which was easier to reach while sideways, and downed it as quickly as the first one. “Done! Did it! Hey Beul, I just did 21!” Mick yelled as the gunk on him glazed over the wool on the top of his head, leaving him fully changed. He then stood up from chair, not realizing his legs didn’t touch the ground when he first sat down, and began walking towards Beul. For the observers, this was just the icing on the cake. After watching him hold and absorb all of the drink, they now got to watch it in motion. With every step, his bulbous gut dipped down before jostling in place as he lifts his next leg. The heavy sloshes of its contents could be heard through the balloon-like skin. It was so weighty due to the liquid inside but the carbonation never let it get heavy enough to touch the ground, so it just had to wobble its energy away. It was hypnotizing, and his slow staggering walk let the watchers savor every moment of it.
Of course the belly was the first thing that reached Beul, who was frozen in place trying to process what his friend now was: A latex orb attached to a taller, rubber Mick. Mick didn’t feel it touch though, so he kept pushing forward, squishing more and more against Beul who was pushed up against a nearby wall. As the stomach was compressed between the two figures, it bulged outwards between the two and blocking they’re vision of eachother.  Wanting to see his friend, Mick raised his hands and pushed down his stomach like you would with an airbag. The air displacement caused Mick to release a *BROAEEARR* into his friend’s face. It smelled like alcohol, his whole body smelled like alcohol, it was gross. “What did this?”
“Did what man?” Mick asked, apparently oblivious to any of the changes that happened to him. Beul just pushed his hands into the sticky material of his gut, eliciting another *HRUAR* from him. “Oh yeah, it’s cool, right? I didn’t know this could happen, but if feels good.”
“You need help, right now.”
“No he doesn’t,” yelled a voice from behind, it was Lee. “This man just did the impossible. He deserves to stay for the night!”
“Yeah!” Bren added in, holding the hose in the air, “Stick around!” 
“Yeah! Let him stay!”
“C’mon!”
Soon enough other members of the crowd joined in, until the whole house was intent on having him stay. 
Mick just grinned at Beul, looking into in the eyes of a friend who he was once half the height of. “Well, the crowd knows what it wants, and I’m not going to disappoint,” Mick turned his head to Bren. “But first, I’m gonna need another drink!”