Whats with the music?

A door opens elsewhere and a pumping beat of some electronic dance music song is momentarily heard clearly in the hall. "Shake it if you got it," a female vocalist purrs repetitively to the rhythm. "shake it if you got it," you whisper along for a moment as you tap the beat with a foot.

It's a good beat, you admit to yourself as you keep tapping it as the door closes and you barely hear the bass, though you stop humming as Geoff begins talking again. "So, I suspect this isn't quite normal."

"You don't say," Brett say from under Wes' ass, who also nods in agreement. "We probably should get out of here, right? It seems like this is a school only thing."

"Yeah, but we have to do our classes," Wes pointed out to them. "Oh that's right, we can't miss class," the rest of you mutter instinctually.

"Wait," you say as you keep tapping your foot at the music, you pull out your phone from your pocket because it's sliding out. "Why would we care about that if the school is... cursed?"

"That's both the question and the answer," Geoff exclaimed in relief. "We would leave the school right now if it wasn't cursed to keep us here. It's a brilliant way to keep people from skipping class, at least."

"But we could get turned into things like Wes has been if we stay," you say as you put both heels into bouncing you to the faint rhythm, the distraction of the music welcome to the dread you've been feeling so far. "No offense to the drinker of magical milk, but I feel a bit worried about losing myself to a new past."

"Oh, I believe there's antidote to be had to help people who got permanent changes," Geoff countered. "They got some pills in the administration office, even in the snack machine aisle over there,"

"But that won't be any good if you forget to take one because you've forgotten what has changed, right?" You say as you pull up your shirt to your waist to avoid having it stretch too much on your hips. Every bounce now adds a shake to your rear and thighs, and your pants are really digging into your flesh. A hand crossing your rear finds barely a hint of the pattern of the rear pockets. Your platform wedge sneakers adds more bounce to your step as you add slow horizontal rolls to your hips to your rhythm. Didn't you wear denim for work and not a pair of faux denim tights with no pockets?

Did you love caressing your heart shaped ass in public while casually dancing, tugging at the tights to show off your fat butt cheeks as best you can?

"Shake it if you got it," you whisper to yourself, and you certainly got it. Your five foot six, hundred pound body has a tiny waist, small chest with lithe shoulders, and long, long and thin legs, perfect for dancing. Dancing puts your mind at ease. It's better than jerking off. Your dicklet isn't much to brag about anyway. You much prefer bouncing on a dildo. Or leave a plug in there to shift and rub at your innards as you dance. You sort of regret not bringing one to school today.

"John, please stop bouncing that ass and focus," Geoff reminded you.

"Oh, sorry," you say as you sit down next to him and pull some hair out of your face. "I just like to dance to de-stress."

"You do? news to me," Wes said and gave you a scrutinizing look.