Trapped in the Sims (complete)

Part 12

I open my eyes.

I'm standing still in a room, with tranquil blue walls and a full length mirror over to one side.

I'm standing on a small circular podium.

And no matter how I strain, I am unable to move a muscle off it.

It takes a second or two to grasp where I am.

I must have seen this room a hundred times, a thousand times probably. I've looked down on this podium, spun it around countless times, zoomed in on the features of the sim who stands on it, made dozens of minor and major changes to every aspect of their body.

But I've never been the sim trapped on the podium.

Hannah must be changing my appearance. Probably as a joke, knowing her. I can't blame her really; to her it probably looks like I've made a sim of myself in the family, which is dangerous territory when you share a game with your best friend. You don't tamper with your shared games. No matter what.

Suddenly my whole body is abnormally heavy, and I can only watch as a stomach grows from thin air, enveloping my body. It feels oddly solid, like it's actually real, and I feel a stab of fear. Surely she wouldn't leave me like this - bloated out of proportion like a balloon? The Sims 3 allows that option, but I've never used it to this extent.

I wish beyond anything that I could control my actions while in Create A Sim, but I have no way of communicating with Hannah. I feel myself patting my larger stomach and posing in a familiar position, but I can't step off the podium, or wave my arms, or anything. I can only do the preprogrammed actions for each change.

Luckily my body shrinks again, to just under normal proportions. If I could breathe a sigh of relief, I would. Suddenly I realise that Hannah wouldn't leave me like that, even if she is playing a trick on me. Every sim she makes is fairly pretty, whatever she does to them.

But I've seen some of the things she does to her sims. I've sat next to her while she makes gothic children and girly teenagers and rebellious elders. I don't want to be like that. I want to be normal.

What are the chances of that happening?

Next up is a new hairstyle, and I am faced away from the mirror so I have no idea of what she's putting on me. While I'm waiting, resigned to my fate, I try to remember hairstyles that Hannah didn't like, or knew I didn't like. But my memories are strangely clouded; I can't think of what the screen looks like with the hairstyles on. That's odd. Why can't I remember?

There's no time to dwell on this, as I feel the uncomfortable sensation of makeup appearing on my face. Mercifully I realise she's left my actual facial features alone. However Hannah loves Sims makeup, and I cringe as I think of what she could put on me. I'm not a fan of excessive makeup in general, so this won't be great anyway. However I'm still facing away from the mirror, so yet again I can't see what she's putting on me.

Finally the sensation stops, and I hope that she's finished. She's done my hair and makeup. Hopefully that's all she'll go to. 

But this isn't over yet.

Clothes. Of course. 

Wistfully, I mentally say goodbye to the light blue dress and sandals that I had actually begun to quite like, and resign myself to something typically awful.

I'm not disappointed. Outfits flick over my body faster than I can focus on, and only stops on a yellow skirt and crop top which I dimly recollect I've always disliked. Of course, this is the one that stays, and I wish I could roll my eyes as I do a programmed pose.

Then the podium begins to rotate beneath me. Hannah is evidently checking my new look from all angles, critically assessing the outfit from every side.

I am spun around until I am dizzy and nauseous from the motion, and I make a mental note never to use the podium to spin sims around like this again. Not now I know how it feels. I catch a glimpse of my new hairstyle in the mirror as I rotate past it, and manage a grimace, although Hannah can't see from her position. It's not great: it's long, way past my usual cut at my shoulders and spiked at the ends, with slight black streaks at the ends which is an odd look against my usual light brown hair, which has been altered to a light blonde colour. My makeup is heavy, consisting of black mascara and light grey eyeshadow, and a glossy pink lipgloss. It's not the worst I could have expected, but it's not great. Along with the hideous yellow outfit, I look like some kind of gothic sunflower.

Hannah, happily oblivious to my discomfort, continues to enjoy herself by putting me in a bright red mini-dress for my formal outfit and high heels which I know I will fall over in as soon as I am back to my own control. My hair is switched to a short blonde/black-streaked bob that tickles my neck and clashes with the outfit awfully. 

I'm barely concentrating any more as Hannah changes my sleepwear to a short pink nightdress. Then finally - I'm done.

Everything goes black, and I am spiralling back to the game, my only panicked thought: "What is she going to do now?!"

A/N) Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story for the *whispers* FOUR WHOLE MONTHS *normal voice* since I last updated. I promise I will stick to a more regular updating schedule now, since I have some ideas for the next few chapters. Please comment!

In other news, I finally got Sims 3 Generations a few weeks ago! Yay!