It was two weeks before Greek Row was allowed to throw a party, but Fulda thought it was worth the wait.  She could scarcely remember the last time she drank so much, and it turned out she was a natural at flip cup.  Every few minutes, though, some guy came up and tried to trick her into giving them her number, and she had to come up with a new way of blowing them off.  After the tenth one it was exhausting and she started having to recycle the lines so she could get back to drinking.

Fulda looked down at her cup.  Bone dry.  She had sucked the last drop out with the last draught, and there weren’t any kegs or bottles nearby.  The guy next to her noticed Fulda’s plight and offered her his drink, but she did not even acknowledge it.  Quickly she excused herself from the table to go get more.  It would be a good opportunity to take a break and get a look around, too.

On the way to the hall keg Fulda noticed a woman walking out of the kitchen with neon green paint stripes running down her arms and a hand print on her thigh glowing under the blacklight.  She was wearing all white and dressed comfortably, solidly built, and amazingly only a few inches shorter than Fulda.  “Cool paint!” she called out.  “Where’d you get it?”

The woman laughed and pointed behind her.  “There’s some dude with finger paints offering to paint women if they do him too.  I let him do it and told him to go fuck himself!”

Fulda cackled.  “Nice!” she replied, and walked past.  There would be time for stories when her cup was full.  Once she made it to the hallway she spotted the big, metal keg in a bucket of ice by the stairs, surprisingly with no line.  Jackpot.

After a few quick pumps it was good and pressurized, and Fulda held the spigot over her cup’s rim.  It was so low to the ground she had to bend over while pouring, but that was hardly a deal breaker.  She watched the foam rise to the top, eagerly awaiting the first long drink.

She was about to stand up when someone slapped her ass, hard.  Dropping the hose, she shot up and spun around to see what looked like an oversized thumb leering at her.  He was leaning against the stairs with one arm, barrel chested, and had no neck.  There was definitely some surprise when she looked down at him, but he quickly recovered.  “Hey beautiful, keeping a tally?” he asked.

“No, why would I?” Fulda replied.  It took a lot of effort for her to not break his nose, but if it turned out he lived here she would never be allowed in again.

“Well then, let’s start!” he said.  “I’ll even make it interesting: if I can drink more than you before midnight, you come up with me, but if you drink more than me I’ll let you punch me as hard as you can.  Deal?”

Fulda looked around.  The hallway was conspicuously empty of people, and this was more repulsive than most offers she had received.  Time to let out some frustration.  “Deal,” she said.  The man immediately started chugging, but Fulda was in no hurry, and simply grinned down at him.

In a split second there was no trace of him, aside from a bug-sized version of him standing at the tip of Fulda’s Converse.  She bent over and plucked him off the ground, then dangled him over her drink.  His high-pitched screams filled her with delight, and she almost regretted losing them when she dropped him in her beer with a splash.

“Looks like I’m about to win,” she said with a laugh, “because I’m about to drink you, and some of my beer!”  She drew it to her lips, and just when his screams returned the current dragged him into her mouth.  For a moment she toyed with him, then flicked him back to her gullet and swallowed.  Satisfied, she walked off to find the painted woman again, unaware of the green hand print on the seat of her shorts.

One minute he was chugging intensely, and the next he was staring up the tanned legs of a towering woman standing over him.  Before it even registered she leaned over and plucked him up between thumb and forefinger, making him drop his tiny beer on the ground.  The rush up made him light-headed, but while he dangled over the vast pool of beer in her cup he began to scream.

Her fingers let go and he plummeted into the waiting pond.  Briefly he submerged, then quickly swam his way back to the surface.  Looking at her from inside the cup was terrifying: her face dominated his whole field of view, and while she spoke he realized that her mouth was several times his size.  The booming of her voice startled him so much he could not even focus on what she said, just the noise it made.

The cup raised to her lips, parting them slightly, and the pink glossed lips filled his vision.  He tried to swim against the current but it was too string, and he was quickly swept between her lips, over her teeth, and onto her tongue.  She rammed him against her palate, stunning him, then flicked him to the back.  All the liquid in her mouth rushed around him, and he was carried down her throat with it.