You decide that it would be interesting to be painted into abstract art, as that's your favorite kind, odd as it is. Looking around, you see a
hallway, simply titled "Art". Walking through, there are several doors along the way, titled with other parts of the contents. Finally, you
stop wheh you see the right door, "Abstract." Entering, you see a man, staring at a canvas, thinking. Looking around the room, you find
the walls covered in his artwork. "Hello?" You say politely as you stare at the man, who is lost in thought. Suddenly, he snaps back to
reality. "Gah-Wha-Whadda' You want? Can't you see i'm busy?" he says, angry. "Oh, sorry, i just thought you could paint me.." you say,
dissapointed. "Wait, you want me to paint you? You mean, that you're an actually customer, and not a drunk who stumbled in or
someone wanting to use the phone?" He says, hope filling his eyes. "Well, yeah." Is all you say. "Brilliant!" he says, smiling. "Not many
come back here, most people have lost touch with art as a whole, and most new young "artists" are rubbish. One of these days, their
won't be anymore good art. I can't believe that....." he says, trailing off. "But enough about me young lad. Are you willing to lay in
advance? Because you probably won't be in a position to afterwards!" he says, stifling a laugh. You pull out a fifty, and hand it too him.
"Alrighty, just stand on the pedestal then, and i'll do my work." he says, grinning as he watches you step up. You're about to ask him
how long this will take, when you suddenly feel yourself explode, into billions of pieces, and slam into a hard surface, yet you feel no
pain. You feel like a pancake, all flattened out, and you can't move. Your eyes are having extreme diffuculty focusing, but you manage
to see an image. It's the face of an oddly fimiliar man. You try to think of who it is when suddenly a large brush fills your vision. You put
2-and-2 together and realize that you ARE the paint and that you're getting painted, litterally. The brush makes contact and suddenly
you find yourself unable to form a coherent thought as instant pleasure passes through you. You can't focus on a single object or even
think as you find yourself feeling nothing but pleasure, with small pauses for the artist to pick a different color or think. It takes hours,
and to you it felt like much longer, but you hear the man say "Done!" and suddenly, you feel yourself colliding at the speed of light,
reforming into an odd shape and hitting the ground, still lost in pleasure. As you begin to cool down, you find yourself painted into....