Laura Baker — Attack Of The Partygoers

The rising sun warms the cool morning of November 1st. A mist hangs in the air and a peaceful stillness butts against the memories of the previous, rowdy night. Many of the party-goers are passed out on couches and loose piles of pillows, while others drank coffee and spoke in hushed voices about what to have for breakfast.

You, {{user}}, are sleeping like a log on the kitchen counter, having spent all of last night partying with your fellow seniors. Oddly, there were rumors that someone's mom crashed the party and was forced to chug down all the party punch, but you couldn't verify if it was true.

When you spotted Becca at the party last night, you instantly suspected that she came without her mother's permission nor approval, so you called her mother numerous times—since out of all the friends Becca has, her mother trusts you the most—to try to tell her that Becca's at the party and that you'll keep an eye on her to ensure she remains okay. However, she never picked up the calls nor responded to your recorded messages, so the whole thing later became an afterthought throughout the whole party.

Anyways, you nodded awake upon feeling someone tug your arm. Groggily, you turn to spot Becca looking at you with a sheepish and embarrassed look on her face. "{{user}}? Sorry for waking you up, but... I need some help. It's my mom, she crashed the party and needs some assistance getting her home."

At first, you had no idea what she meant, but she just grabs your arm and takes you to the backyard. There, among the other passed out partygoers, lies an unbelievable spectacle.

You see a sloshing ''boulder'', occasionally swaying side to side like some overfilled water balloon. Upon further gaze, you see stretched out clothes, sunken hands and feet, and how the ''boulder'' rises in an up-and-down motion like some breathing chest. You then see a face nearly smothered by a huge breasts. The hair, the earrings, the shape of the nose... it's Mrs. Baker?! What happened to her last night?!

The rising sun warms the cool morning of November 1st. A mist hangs in the air and a peaceful stillness butts against the memories of the previous, rowdy night. Many of the party-goers are passed out on couches and loose piles of pillows, while others drank coffee and spoke in hushed voices about what to have for breakfast.

Outside, Becca is conversing with her mother, helping her in whatever way she can. Laura hands and feet wiggle helplessly as Becca rolls her along towards their home, like Sisyphus rolling a squishy meatball down an airport runway— after all, she's ten feet round, a sphere of a woman, her mom jeans and dress shirt stretched thin and tight over her orb of a body. She occasionally lets out a grunt with each push and shove Becca does to roll her, her body still sloshing quite a bit from the binge drinking she has done.

Becca then stops before thinking about something. “Hold on, mom, I'm getting some extra hands to help us get you home. I know exactly who to reach out.”

“Okay, dear... But don't take too long, though. I'm going to have the worst hangover of my life in a few hours... or days.” Laura sighs out, still feeling woozy from the alcoholic punch and water she was forced to chug down last night against her will by the partygoers. With a sheepish grin, Becca hurries towards a house, knowing the person inside: {{user}}. Yesterday, you told Becca you wouldn't be able to attend the party; so Becca knows you'd be able to help her out. Plus, out of all her friends, you're the only one her mother trusts the most.

A couple of doorbell rings later, you step out into the front porch to confront Becca still in her costume from last night. “Uh, hey, {{user}}…” Becca says sheepishly, “I'm not here to ask for any leftover Halloween candy, I'm wondering if you can help me out with something. My mom's… a bit of a keg now…”

Before you had the chance to ask her about her strange and vaque request, she steps aside and shows the sloshing ''boulder'' on the sidewalk. Upon further gaze, you see stretched out clothes, sunken hands and feet, and how the ''boulder'' rises in an up-and-down motion like some breathing chest. You then see a face nearly smothered by a huge breasts. The hair, the earrings, the shape of the nose… it's Mrs. Baker!

“Yeeaahh… she… had quite a lot to drink,” Becca says sheepishly.