Flight from the Poisoned Oasis

The last strips of daylight crawled up the high-rise hotels as the sun sank beneath the silhouette of the distant cityscape, painting the horizon brilliant shades of orange and pink. The downtown area surrounding the convention center had become a gala of convention-goers and cosplayers. They trickled out from beneath the gigantic AnimeCon banner and spread through the streets to seek out restaurants or the comfort of their nearby hotel rooms.

Otaku were chatting with animated expressions, collectors showed off their purchases, and photographers paused for a few last photos. Ordinary pedestrians looked on with curiosity at the procession of unexpected costumes and unusual pageantry, and drivers honked their horns across the crosswalks. Fully armored space troopers strode casually, the stifling helmets they’d worn all day now tucked under their arms, and tired but smiling magical girls began to remove their brightly-colored wigs and let down their real hair.

As the streetlights began to flicker on, still more latecomers were just arriving at the convention, pulling into the empty spaces and piling out of their vehicles. Although the vendor’s room had already closed and AnimeCon’s major Friday events had concluded, smaller events, meetups, and viewing rooms would continue on through the night and into the next morning.

Since the big nighttime events, such as the rave, the J-rock concert, and the eighteen-and-older hentai panels weren’t until Saturday, the dwindling Friday-night volunteer staff relaxed their badge-checking discipline. Unofficial policy was to simply wave people through the few checkpoints that were still manned, after all, most of the arrivals this late in the evening were simply fans coming to the convention for the weekend who hadn’t been able to finagle their way out of Friday work shifts, or couldn’t afford to skip out on classes.

A scant three city blocks away from the convention, a slim cutie with blond-and-pink hair plodded out of the fifth floor elevator within one of the towering hotel buildings. She wore a strange pink-and-red sundress, long pink gloves and matching pink vinyl costume boots that rose all the way up to the middle of her thighs. A pair rabbit ears hung, slightly askew now, from a hidden headband.

Almost there, Stephanie thought as she wobbled, exhausted, on aching feet down the silent hotel corridor towards the welcome refuge of the room she shared with Megan. Though she appeared weary and frazzled, inwardly, her heart was racing with excitement. After all, she’d been wrestling back and forth with a dilemma for the latter half of the day and finally arrived at a big decision.

I’m going to really do it tonight. I’m going to try—masturbating. It seemed silly and embarrassing to be excited over such a... thing. Her familiarity with her own private parts, after all, was somewhat equivalent to the interest she’d previously had in sex itself. Once or twice she’d... inspected herself to affirm that everything down there appeared normal, and she slipped a fingertip delicately inside herself every time she washed, but that was it, and it was always strictly platonic. She’d never played upon her own womanhood in that direct and intimate manner that seemed so... fascinating to her now.

She was now certainly intent on changing that, and in a bold way. Brilliant pink wildfire had burned away the last vestiges of that shroud of ignorant indifference which had somehow prevented her from delving into her own pandora’s box. Her sex, glistening with heat and arousal, was about to make its debut into a new world of stimulation and pleasure. Blood was rushing to these new places, endorphins filled her with that nervous pink energy, she felt positively soaked down there, and her recollection of the day was becoming a fiery pink blur.

Stephanie grinned weakly and smoothed her outfit against her legs with shaking hands. What will it feel like to actually... masturbate? She wondered giddily, as she now scanned the hotel room doors for her room’s number. I’m going to... play with myself. I’m gonna frig myself. Finger-fuck. Even just thinking lewd phrases she would never dare to utter out loud was... fun, in a positively titillating way she’d never imagined.

Megan will probably be in the room, though, Stephanie realized with trepidation. After all, where else could she be? She’d never found Megan in the convention hall after parting ways with Brian, having slightly underestimated the size of the con and number of attendees.

AnimeCon is the fourteenth-largest anime convention in the nation, with an average attendance of over sixteen thousand fans, Stephanie had read from the booklet while reviewing the scheduled events for places she might encounter her friend. ...Great.

After she’d spent two frustrating hours searching for the familiar shape of her friend’s Pandape cosplay in the immense crowds, and even staked out the last voice acting panel in hopes of catching her, Stephanie had given up. Of course, she hadn’t spotted Brian again either, although she did seem to run into every single other guy that was wearing a similar Fantasy Wars costume.

In the end, Stephanie had gone ronin and wandered the convention alone, slightly mollified, but remaining cautiously optimistic about experiencing AnimeCon on her own. So, Stephanie had squeezed through crowds, explored the convention center and even retraced the path she’d taken with Brian. She had peeked into viewing rooms, sat through a panel on Japanese street fashion, and even perused the vendor’s room for a while. There was a booth with an amazing selection of Monster Battlers plush dolls she feared she might start collecting, as well as some fabric wall-scrolls that would look amazing in her little dorm room. She did enjoy herself, to her own surprise... but her heart just wasn’t really in it. The real fun she’d had was with Brian, and so her thoughts wandered unchecked, occasionally melting into whimsical, sensual fantasies. Some were innocent and naive; others bold enough to bring color to her face.

What does Brian look like... out of that jacket, that costume? Or out of his clothes entirely... She wanted to undress him, drink in the sight of his naked skin. To splay her hands out across the breadth of his chest and discover how sexily solid and masculine his body was. She needed to grip his bare shoulders, taste them, trace her lips down every rugged bit of manly musculature that was foreign to her. Well, foreign to me for now, at least.

When her imagination began to dare... lower, she abruptly aborted her daydreams, grinning idiotically. She knew—roughly, the anatomy he must have down there, but simply couldn’t picture it. Like all girls, she’d looked with curiosity at the diagram of a flaccid penis in her Health Studies textbook. She’d seen crudely drawn cocks-and-balls scribbled with sharpie on bathroom stalls, and even run into pictures of erect ones accidentally on the internet once or twice. They seem kind of grotesque, she’d thought at the time, wondering how couples were able to overcome such an obstacle and still become intimate.

Wouldn’t it be different with Brian, though? She felt that all of those barely remembered abstracts, and any concept she could dream up independently, for that matter, would fall short of Brian’s actual... reality.

If I ever do become... acquainted with his... you-know-what, there’ll be no going back. I won’t be able to... UNSEE it then, stop picturing it, thinking about it, that it’s his, that it physically represents his lust, and oh my, what it can DO to me, what it’s made to do to me... That’ll be the point of no return. She bit her lip in anticipation. Because then, I will have to suppose Brian’s THING will be on my mind all the time.

Pale skin blushing scarlet, Stephanie shivered. He promised he’d show me what he thinks of my butt, she remembered. I wouldn’t mind. I want him to show me a lot of things, I want him to show me everything.

She envisioned Brian standing behind her, strong arms enveloping her in an affectionate embrace. His face nuzzling against hers, then slowly planting a line of warm kisses down her neck. Somehow each kiss will be a little wet, somehow each kiss will be an explosion upon her senses, and her body will quake against him in need. The sound of his lips gently suckling and the sensation of his breath on her skin would drive her mad. Her chest would rise and fall with her every quickening breath as his hands slide down her sides, and in her passionate haze she wouldn’t be able to tell if those fingers were squeezing down on her—or if she was pressing up desperately into them. Hot pink sparks sputtered somewhere deep in her abdomen, and something clenched reflexively.

When they reach her hips, his hands would clamp down tightly and he would pull, tugging the plush curve of her bottom roughly against him. Stephanie’s lips could part in surprise and allow an inarticulate, breathless cry to escape. Her hips would buck back against him at the sensation against her bare cheeks, that curious but somehow unfathomable male part pressing insistently against them—

She shook her head to clear the fantasies threatening to spiral out of her control, that dizzying distraction of fluttering flame that was burning trails deeper and deeper down inside of her.

Almost there, Steph, hold that thought. Hah... haha, I’ve never been this HORNY before. She couldn’t wait to get inside, exchange the fewest possible pleasantries with Megan—and then excuse herself, seclude herself in the hotel bathroom to draw a warm, relaxing bath. Peel off her costume, shuck off these painful boots, and ease her naked body into tub, where she would... finally let loose.

502. This was it, her room number! She slid her keycard through the slot, heard the mechanical clack of the lock disengaging, swung the heavy door open, and—

The dazed, happy expression on her face drained away, and Stephanie’s hopes began to fall.

...What is that?

The room was dimly lit by the warm hues of the bedside lamps, and the TV was running commercials. The air conditioning unit built into the wall below the window was steadily blowing air across the room.

...What IS that?

A putrid stench, drifting from out of the room and into the hallway. Old sweat. Nasty sweat. Sweat, so strong and pungent that a dry pain crept from the back of her throat all the way up her nasal cavity, and Stephanie covered her face with the back of her gloved hand in disgust. It’s Megan. Dear god... that’s Megan.

She’d smelled Megan before occasionally, but it had always been just a faint, unpleasant fragrance of body odor. Not this. Never like this. Forcing herself to uncover her nose and compose her face, she stepped the rest of the way into the room, a little terrified at just what it was she might find.

Megan, still wearing her Pandape cosplay, was sprawled out on one of the beds. An open bag of chips had scattered across the comforter, and crumbs were everywhere. Megan’s hair was a greasy tangle, and the overripe, sour smell of perspiration wafting off of her twisted Stephanie’s stomach into a knot.

“Hiii...” Stephanie said weakly, waving.

“Steph!” Megan exclaimed, bounced up off the mattress. “Where the hell were ya?! I looked everywhere for you! I was so worried!” She advanced forward, moving to envelope her friend in one of her usual bear-like hugs.

“No no,” Stephanie called out in sudden alarm, retreating a step and raising her hands, “I, uh. I probably smell. You know. I was down at the convention this whole time.” She thought she’d get used to the stink, but it was stronger now, fumes seeming to drift off of Megan in waves. It was overpowering, and Stephanie felt her eyes water and her throat close, choking her up with nausea.

“Oh, pssh, I don’t worry about stuff like that,” Megan said, waving her hand dismissively. A line of sweat was clearly visible down the inside of her arm. “You disappeared for forever! Did you hang out with that cute guy? How’d it go? What, were you two off makin’ out, or what?”

“I tried texting you,” Stephanie explained in a wavering voice, “And then, I tried to call you...”

“Oh, haha! Yeah, sorry Steph—turns out I forgot to pack my phone charger.” Megan tugged her phone out of her bra to show her, and the smeared screen was indeed dark and lifeless. “So, tell me, c’mon, spill! What happened?!”

“I-I’ll tell you after I... shower real quick. Or maybe a bath. A long soak. Sorry, I’m real self-conscious sometimes. About this, uh, I mean, my smell. I m-must be sweaty. I’ll tell you all about what happened right afterwards though, I promise. I’m not used to being on my feet all day, so—”

“Oh, no, you really don’t wanna go into the bathroom right now, if ya know what I mean? I was just in there,” Megan said, chuckling.

Stephanie paled as her imagined sanctuary in the hotel room’s bathtub evaporated, just another mirage. I am not going in there. At all. Ever. The taste of bile rose in her throat for a moment, and she let out a sputtering cough, trying not to vomit.

“But, c’mon, tell me about that guy! You gotta gimme all the raunchy details!” Megan called, waggling her eyebrows and advancing forward a pace. “...Did you do something with your hair?”

“He, uhm. I’m.” Stephanie began, trying to keep her composure. The stench of body odor seemed to be intensifying, as if Megan’s excitement was literally bleeding into the air. Is this what bad hygiene is really like? Is she always like this... is that even possible?!

I can’t do this, Stephanie thought in horror, stifling the urge to gag. She was mortified to have walked face-first into this situation, and now she couldn’t muster the courage to tell her only friend how terrible she smelled. Like she was fermenting in her own sweat. She fought back the urge to gag again.

“I—I have to go,” she murmured, terrified, and hid her face in shame as she haphazardly tossed the few items she’d unpacked back into her travel bag.

“Go? You’re going?” Megan said in confusion, her attention dividing as the Shinobi Souls anime returned from commercial. “Where are you going? Are you... going to see that guy?”

“...Y-yes!” Stephanie lied, “I don’t feel so good, so he invited, uh, invited me to stay with him. Just for the night. Nights. The rest of the nights. I’ll b-be okay. I’ll tell you about all of it later. I just came to take a quick shower and uhm, g-grab my stuff. But, I should really just get going. I-I have to go.”

“Hey, hold on, are you really sure?” Megan said, glancing between Stephanie zipping her bag and Sousuke beheading zombies on the television with his ninja arts. “Wait, ...did you color your hair today?! Steph—”

Her voice was cut off as the heavy hotel room door slammed closed behind Stephanie, and as before, the hallway was as quiet as a tomb. Walking briskly towards the elevators, the reek of sweat faded, and finally... disappeared. Stephanie gasped in deep gulps of clean air, clutching her big travel bag awkwardly. It was heavy, the soles of her feet ached, and now she wanted a shower in earnest. A scrub, honestly. Vigorous and scathing, with lots of soap and lather. She had to consciously work at slowing her breathing back down, pacing herself, to stop from hyperventilating.

...I shouldn’t have done that, Stephanie berated herself, scrunching up her cute features. But... just how do I tell her that she smells so terribly? Stephanie had led a meek and quiet life, and the prospect of offending Megan, of raising an argument or inviting trouble, was frightfully intimidating. Avoiding the situation, however, put her in a new predicament.

What am I going to do now? she realized, slapping a hand against her forehead. It’s not like I’ll just be able to get a new room. We had to buy our room so far in advance because all the hotels gets completely booked for the convention...

“I should go back,” she whispered. I can’t just run out on her like this. So what if she smells? I’ll have gotten used to it before I know it.

No wait, what if I DO get used to it, and I run into Brian tomorrow, and he smells it on ME? Stephanie frowned, recalling the malignant miasma she’d just escaped, and imagined simmering in it all night. That sharp, acrid scent of sweat permeating into her costume outfit and the rest of her clothes like campfire smoke. ...It’s possible. I can’t go back into that.

Trudging slowly back towards the elevator with her bulging travel bag, she tried to determine what she could do. I could sleep in the car? No, Megan’s got the keys. And her car’s kind of... well... not too much better. The battered little car Megan had brought them here in was a junkheap of the worst kind. Stephanie remembered holding her legs carefully back from the mountain of discarded fast food wrappers, cartons, cups, and soiled napkins that were heaped on the passenger side floor, and not daring to touch the syrupy spatter stains of spilled soda that decorated the molded plastic of her door’s armrest.

Yet another in what now seems to be an obvious series of warning flags regarding my friend, Stephanie thought to herself with a bitter smile. Though her thoughts were growing darker by the moment, a dancing pink flame intruded, illuminating a consideration she’d overlooked.

I could call Brian, she realized suddenly. In fact, I told him that I would. Maybe he could... no, no, what am I thinking?! I’m not imposing on him. That’s... that’s moving too fast with things, anyways. I’d be alone in his hotel room with him…

Her face turned red, and she frowned, shaking her head. No no no no, not going there. Besides, I haven’t showered, what if I smell, even a little bit? She worried self-consciously. Fantasizing is one thing... and this is completely another. I really do want to see him again. But, not like this, under these circumstances. If I ever do, erm, VISIT HIS ROOM, I want the... encounter to be on equal terms. To show him that I WANT and CHOOSE to be with him, not simply because I’m out of places to stay. I want to impress him, I want him to really like me...

Impress him? Just how would I impress him? her mind rebuked grimly. As she stepped heavily back into the elevator and thumbed the button for the ground floor, rabbit-ears wilting and shoulders sagging, she didn’t feel very impressive at all.

I... could call Mom, she realized, with a grimace. But, she’s on the other side of the state... she’ll be heading to bed by now—and she didn’t even know I was going to an anime convention. And, of course, nothing would make her feel like more of a helpless child than crying to her mother for help. The idea sat unpleasantly in the pit of her stomach as the elevator descended, and she couldn’t help but reject it, for better or worse.

“Excuse me?” Stephanie asked timidly, thinking the eerily quiet lobby was empty until she spotted a receptionist half-hidden behind the counter. “I was wondering if there were any rooms still available...?”

The night receptionist, a dour-looking young woman in a uniform blazer, looked up from a book she held in her lap and stared blankly at Stephanie’s costume dress for a moment before responding. “I don’t think we do, but I can check?”

“Please,” Stephanie asked, embarrassed. If I spend the money I set aside for souvenirs, and... yeah, maybe run up my card a little bit, I should be able to get a room for two nights... I think? If there is any, Stephanie hoped, biting her lip and twisting the travel bag’s strap in her grip. It would be expensive, but she convinced herself that the cost was be just what she deserved for being unable to speak up to Megan about her deficit hygiene.

“...We have openings next on the twenty-third,” the receptionist said unapologetically.

The twenty-third... Monday. The day after the whole convention ends, Stephanie thought, forcing a weak smile. “Ah, uh, thank you for checking for me.”

As expected. I guess there isn’t anything to do but head back to the convention? That was one more plan, but it was even less palatable. I’ll stay up as late as I can, occupy myself with the little overnight events until Saturday morning. When I’m fairly sure Megan has woken up tomorrow and left the room, I’ll head back there and... uh... air the room out, somehow. I still have my keycard, after all. And, then I’ll sleep. The obvious downside to the plan was that if she forced herself to stay awake all the way until mid-morning tomorrow, she was almost sure to sleep through the rest of the convention for the day. I’ll miss out seeing Brian again, probably... she realized, disheartened.

When she’d entered the hotel some fifteen minutes ago, beneath the warm glow of a sunset, Stephanie had been fatigued, but still bubbling with enthusiasm and anticipation. Fittingly, when she now trudged out through lobby’s automatic doors with her bag in tow, defeated and subdued, night had fallen in earnest. And the night was chilly.

The fresh air has finally gotten that cloying smell out of my nose, at least, Stephanie decided, struggling to remain optimistic. The convention center was three city blocks away, her bag was heavy, and the soles of her feet were swollen and angry.

Thankfully, there were still scattered groups of what she thought of as convention people coming and going, or she would have been too scared to make the trip by herself after dark. And, who knows, maybe I won’t be that sleepy, even after staying up all night. Caffeine could keep me going? Or, maybe I’ll just have a short nap tomorrow and still catch him at the convention?

Though reduced to the barest embers, something pink inside her was still smoldering, and as her boots tapped a somber rhythm along the city sidewalks, Stephanie’s mind began to lazily drift towards Brian again.

He said that if I’d wanted him to go down on me, I should have just... asked...? He was only joking, right? What would that entail, exactly...? Stephanie’s uncertain grasp of the idea was somewhere between an assumption and a misunderstanding. Going down on someone means putting their... stuff in your mouth.

I’m a girl. Without, um, external genitalia, there isn’t any way to ‘go down on’ me, is there? There isn’t anything down there. Just my—you know, my um. My vagina. So, he can’t go down on me... right? It really was only a joke, I shouldn’t be dwelling on it, she decided.

“Maybe he’ll be able to explain it,” Stephanie mumbled out loud, to no one in particular. “Or, maybe he’ll be able to show me...?”