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Pop Party Pt 1 Passing On
The exterior was featureless, a plain pink sphere that dully reflected the warehouse lights overhead. In texture it felt almost like greased rubber, yet no residue remained on her fingertips as she caressed it. Squeezing it in her palm, she briefly hid it from view as her olive-skinned fingers curled tightly around it. No part of it gave in the slightest, utterly incompressible. It was surprisingly light and small, feeling almost as if she held a solid gumball, the type given out by...