DOSE:			Pharms - Lamotrigine	(daily)
	2 g	oral	Mushrooms	(dried)
	1 shot	oral	Alcohol - Hard

BODY WEIGHT:

120 lb

I have bipolar disorder, and have had years of therapy for PTSD and panic disorder. I've smoked pot on very rare occasions, have tried cocaine thrice in my life, drink a little more often than is healthy (probably), I use nicotine, take an anti epileptic (lamotrigine) as a mood stabilizer for bipolar and valium for anxiety. I don't otherwise 'do drugs'. I had never taken any psychedelic.

Earlier in life I used to experience psychotic features. After many years of healing and working on myself I came to a place where I felt capable, ready, to take a substance that had the risk of creating an experience similar to those old psychotic breaks. I'd opened up to the idea that a possibly otherworldly experience might be just as horrifying as before, but didn't have to be- that maybe I could explore a strange place, and actually see beauty in it, maybe even have fun. I finally had friends I'd known for years and trusted to do this with. It could be good and if so, good. And if it was bad... I would face it as bravely as I could, with my friends.

This is going to be very lengthy of an experience as the altered state somehow managed to last many hours beyond what was predicted. I may be very sensitive, it was also later suggested that I hadn't slept much nor had I eaten. It could also have had to do with my medication- who knows. This finished happening yesterday and I'm going to be as detailed as I can, with the understanding that this is what I remember, I may be leaving things out or misremembering parts. The entire experience lasted about 14 hours.

Gavin, an experienced tripper, would be taking them with me, and Zeta, also an experienced tripper and my lover, was to be our sitter. Being my first time I tried not to have expectations- approaching them with the attitude of, 'let's see what happens.' We ate them around 1am at a park near my home; where I live the sun doesn't go down completely in the summer, so we enjoyed a twilight colored sky in the grass and had some wine, chatted... About half an hour later I broke into this sudden, intense laughter. It wasn't accompanied by any other 'unusual' thoughts or sensations, it felt like natural laughter at something funny. I didn't even realize it was substance-induced laughter until I began to wonder why it wasn't stopping, what was so funny (while still enjoying the laughter- as if someone had told a great joke), and Zeta said, 'There they are, he's got the giggles.' I realized then that it was the mushrooms announcing themselves inside of me, which amazed me. Wow. I had been sitting there talking and just like that, bang, there it was. The beginning. 'We should probably take him home before they really hit.' Like clockwork a sudden heaviness hit me. Like my body had a warm heavy comforter dropped onto it.

I began to feel similarly to how one does when very drunk. A loss of coordination. When we came home taking my shoes off had somehow become a monumental challenge. Zeta asked, 'Can't 'shoes' right now, huh?' He stooped to help. I refused. 'No no, I can do this. I just have to concentrate, remember that they're only shoes. I put them onto my feet. I will figure out how to take them off.' ...Soon enough the shoes were off, and I was sitting... And then a second wave of weight came down onto me, very intense, very sudden, like another heavy blanket dropped onto me. 'Oh my god. It's happening. It just hit me really hard.' I was amazed at how sudden and obvious it was. There was no question whether or when they really hit; they didn't creep lazily over me the way weed has , it was sudden the way downing several shots of strong liquor is obvious and sudden.

I sank down to the ground, amazed that Gavin had managed to remain upright in a chair. The wood panels in the ceiling began to shift in different directions. When I closed my eyes, I saw what looked like the after image of neon stars, which, upon opening my eyes, would take a few seconds to stop glittering over my field of vision. The shifting panels in the ceiling began to drip horizontally like streams flowing from a melting ice cream cone. I described this to Gavin, who asked me how ice cream could melt horizontally. I pointed west and told him to imagine gravity was 'that way'.

I felt a weight, like a stack of books, pressing down onto my ribs. I rolled over on the floor to get it to fall off of me, and while I couldn't see it, I tried to shove this invisible weight, with my hands, away into the corner, only to feel it on my side once more. I realized then that the weight was coming from 'up there' and described this to my comrades. Gavin asked, 'Where, the ceiling?' 'No, it's coming from 'up', wherever that is.' 'If the ice cream is melting horizontally, then 'up' is that way,' he pointed. 'No,' I said, and pointed toward the ceiling. Zeta giggled. 'Alright, so up is up but down is west. Gotcha.'

'Up' was pushing down on me, hard. It didn't hurt, but I was deflating. They told me I looked like I was trying to become one with the floor. 'I am,' I said, 'Up is helping me become flat. As flat as I can be, to take up as little space as possible, so I don't have to be a person. The less of me there is, the less person there is to exist.' 'So... Being on the ground makes you not a person? Do you not want to be a person?' I could see my arms, my limbs akimbo, folded up, pressed against the floor as well as I could. 'No. People, we're terrible. We don't deserve the earth we've been given. We ruin everything. I want to be flat. We could all be dead, and it would be... Things would be better.' I didn't feel sad in the slightest, saying this. Zeta may have been concerned with the direction I was headed as he asked me about the ceiling again. I told him that houses have been here a long time, and have managed to convince us we built them to live inside of to give us a futile sense of control so as to be docile as they eat us. Which would be okay because we should probably be eaten, and I'm okay with being food for a house. That houses and buildings eat us. Slowly, gently.

I described the ceiling as impossibly long. Stretching out into forever. Like a train. Trains seemed really long, as if they stretched out into forever. Everything stretched out into forever. Zeta laughed. 'So everything is long like trains, which are very long?' I said 'longer than long. Stretching into forever. How can everything be so long, so wide, so big...? How is there more than one forever?' Gavin pointed out that Zeta was wearing a shirt with trains on it. Needless to say, the trains on his shirt appeared to stretch 'into forever' as well. He said something about vaginas, and everything became yonic. He said something about flaps and fish, and everything became fish-like and flappy. The folds of my jacket looked like a sea creature. The panels on the ceiling looked like sea creatures. I commented to him how everything was becoming what he was describing. He said 'Well, it isn't as if things don't all practically look like vaginas or dicks anyway.' Everything became dicks. A swirling cyclone swarm of penises. 'Oh god,' I said, 'everything is dicks.' I tried to explain to them how everything they were saying kept becoming what was happening, and that made me wonder what hell would be like- I asked if they could take me to it. 'No no,' Zeta said, 'Don't go there. It might sound like a good idea but it doesn't take much for a good trip to become a bad one, and even if you were only there for a little while, it could stretch into forever, feel like years, and stay a bad memory. Let your first trip be a good trip.' I told him that was the beauty of it... I could go to places that didn't exist, experience terror and bliss that stretched into forever but not be in real physical harm. They convinced me not to go to hell.

Zeta became hot and asked if the fridge made ice. I very carefully explained, 'to the left of the button that emits water from a spout when you press it, is a second identical button, which will produce pieces of ice if you press it.' He looked at me comically. 'That was a very detailed way of saying 'yes'.' He procured ice in a bag and broke the pieces apart. One of them made a comment about ice adults being taken apart into ice babies and the murder of ice babies. It took me a moment to realize they were talking about crushed ice and not actual babies. This disappointed me. 'I thought you were talking about real infants. I was okay with that because it would be better for us to not exist, but when I realized you were talking about small pieces of ice, I felt sorry for them.' They were amused at this.

I felt as though I was melting. Gavin's pants merged with the similarly colored cardboard boxes near him, which merged with the vaguely similarly colored wood paneled floor, which merged with the ceiling. It was if he was spread out over everything. 'Gavin is becoming everything,' I said. 'The ceiling, the floor, the walls...' 'I guess his pants are a similar color to the boxes.' 'Oh god, Gavin is boxes.' The two of them were interested in heading outside for a cigarette. They asked if I'd like to go out, too. I realized I was liquid, and wasn't sure how to pick myself up, and told them my dilemma. They asked if my puddle needed to be scooped together. 'You can't scoop water.' 'Yes, you can.' 'No, you have to scoop it into something, or it just spreads out again.' I was encouraged to become a solid, and attempted to get up. I could gather myself upright but it was very difficult- my body would quickly 'melt' back down onto the floor. Zeta came to pick me up and carry me through the door, I insisted he put me down, I could do it, but when he tested letting me go I began turning back into a puddle on the floor. He hoisted me up and carried me out the door. I was trying to fight being carried, in my mind, but I'm pretty sure in 'real life' I was limp. I felt myself dangling like slime around him.

He set me in a chair. The blob that I was returned to a liquid slime state in it, dangling through the arms of the chair, through the back of it. Zeta and Gavin were talking, and Zeta kept becoming everything he said. I was fascinated by this, but kept getting distracted by the hostility of the chair I was sitting in. I kept trying to forget that the chair was abusing me, but it kept reminding me I would never escape it. 'I've got to get out of this chair...' Gavin joked, 'Do you need chair repellant?' The chair was trying tear down my self esteem, make me weak, telling me I was no good, that I was too weak and would never escape, it was trying to make me stay a caterpillar, and it was stretching thick, sticky webs across my body, trying to put me in a cocoon, trying to convince me to become a moth. I didn't want to be a moth. 'Guys, I've got to get out of this chair.' A stink bug landed on my finger. It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. I was mesmerized... But it didn't crawl around. It just stayed there, perched, stroking at my fingertip with its antennae. I told it that it was beginning to make me uncomfortable, because it was hanging around, but I had nothing for it. Nothing to give it. I said (out loud, I'm pretty sure) that all I had to give it was my blood, and it didn't want my blood. I think Zeta blew it off of my finger after giggling that I was apologizing to a bug. Zeta said something about how it was fine to be liquid, just don't turn into vapor or gas or they might have to call for help.

At hearing this I began to feel like gas, as though I was vaporizing, it was incredibly uncomfortable, separating into hot, teeny tiny droplets. They asked if I was okay. I think I asked them to please not talk about becoming gas, because things kept becoming what people said and I didnt want to be gas. Things became a little blurry after that. I think Zeta eventually picked me back up again and set me inside. I'm pretty sure I liquefied onto the floor again. I think I remember being asked if I was okay, and (hopefully) explained I'd simply returned to my liquid state. Repeating how much 'children suck, also rugs, also France, and fuck that chair outside too' became something I said repeatedly that night. (I later apologized to the rug for being so verbally cruel to it, upon realizing many hours later how much time I had spent inadvertently rubbing my face on it amidst my inability to stop being a puddle.)

'Fuck children. Children suck. I hate children because I am a child, and I should die. Fuck rugs, people walk on them. Gross. Also, fuck that chair. And France. Why do people like France so godamn much?' I stared at the ceiling saying this, which was still busily stretching into forever, and concluded, 'its because it's so damn far away and that's the closest they can get to something that they can technically reach but stretches far away enough to seem like forever away, so they can be sad about it, because people like to be sad.'

Zeta steered me in another direction, though I don't remember what. (He told me later I seemed to be going into a dark place and he needed to distract me from it.) I mused that being covered in icy hot would probably be horrible and exciting. Gavin said something like, 'yeah, until someone has to hold down a tripping person freaking out with icy hot.' I said so tie me up then. 'No no,' Zeta (?) said, 'It would hurt, very bad.' I said that sounds great. He strongly suggested not doing anything that would purposely cause pain. I was disappointed, but surely he was right. He was grown up. I was four.

Gavin asked for the internet password. I couldn't trust myself to spell. Trying to spell, letters scrambled, they kept trying to become puffy colorful sugary balloons floating away. I asked for paper, as trying to say it wasn't going to work. One of them joked, 'can't words?' I concurred, and very carefully wrote out the password on some paper. Pretty sure one of them giggled about how difficult I made it seem. I agreed that it was. Gavin handed the notebook back to me. I REELED. That thing was HUGE and impossibly close to my face. Zeta stood up at one point and I reeled again, leaning back and away as one does holding onto the handlebar while on a rollercoaster. He, too, was huge. Everything was extra whatever it already was. Big things extra big, tiny things extra tiny. I reeled a lot this night. I don't remember the reason, but I ended up becoming a letter at one point, I was a purple letter 'K', and told Gavin this. He told me a letter was not a very ambitious thing to become, that I was meant for something better. I told him he was wrong; letters are important, we're forced to use them to write words, and being a letter would make me widespread and incredibly useful. He said if he told me his goal was to be a letter he hoped I would scold him. Throughout my trip he had been in the slow process of becoming the ceiling, the floor, and the walls. I think I told him something like, 'easy for you to say. You're everywhere, you're everything. I'm just a letter and I can make peace with that, I don't need more.' I asked him what it was like to be everywhere. He said something about how he was sad he couldn't hug the moon. I told him he was a selfish bastard. 'It isn't enough to be everything? You're like those people who like France. Wah, I'm everything, but I need to be sad about something far away, and France is too small because I'm everything, so I'll just have to be sad about something I can't have by reaching for something that isn't even on planet earth!' He got a kick out of this.

I felt like a four year old, a toddler, barely able to crawl across the floor. I wondered many times through my trip whether they realized they were narrating the reality of a four year old, that they had so much power over me, that they were pretty much gods. And I was small, so small. I also felt a little sorry for them, because it couldn't be all that fun dealing with a four year old adult. I mentioned this at some point and Zeta asserted that I was an easy first timer, and entertaining. He said we were both hilarious, and Gavin said he was also having fun. I was on my knees, liquefying again. 'You're funny as hell, what is this, wave four and you're still going? Gavin, have you passed your peak yet? I'm going on 24 hours without sleep and can't be up much longer.' Gavin agreed to take over, and Zeta went to bed.

I needed to pee desperately but was afraid to leave the room. My bathroom was upstairs and I knew with certainty that I 'couldn't stairs'. I told Gavin this, explaining that I couldn't seem to stop being liquid, and I can't liquid up stairs, because liquid doesn't 'up'. He tried to convince me to become a solid. I couldn't do it. He suggested the living room bathroom since it was on the same floor as us, but I could see through the sliding glass door that someone had a light on near the toilet (it was my aunt visiting from out of town) and I was afraid of her. I didn't like that she had a face I couldn't control, and that it would probably do things I didn't like and I wouldn't be able to make it stop. Gavin's face had already become all sorts of things and I wasn't scared of it. My aunts face would be new and unpredictable. I didn't want to go out there, it 'wasn't safe'. He eventually convinced me to use the bathroom. 'Alex, I'm pretty sure those people out there, who's faces you're afraid of... Those people are your family, and they're safe. They seem pretty chill actually.' This calmed matters for me and I used the bathroom. The toilet paper was incredibly difficult to rip, and it felt like I was breaking it's arm to tear it off. I apologized for hurting it. It was probably a bad idea to turn the light off while still inside of the bathroom, but I felt a strong urge to see the darkness, remembering how encompassing and awful it was in my earlier years when I used to hallucinate. I needed to see it. I let it envelop me like a deep fog and listened to see if it said anything. It got bigger and bigger and eventually whispered, 'We're becoming you...' I swiftly decided that was enough of that and got the hell out of the bathroom.

My aunt got up to say hi (it was seven in the morning) but I was putting all of my willpower into not liquefying, and was unable to words at her. She came towards me and asked what was up. Her face wasn't scary at all. It was beautiful. I didn't know how to tell her this without admitting I was tripping balls, couldn't figure out how to interact with her without seeming crazy... So I asked her if she'd ever done mushrooms. 'Well, yes, but I was in my 20s, I did quite a few drugs then.' 'I'm doing that for the first time. Like, right now.' 'Oh. Oh goodness. And you don't really do drugs, do you?' 'No.' I was holding onto the wall at this point, trying not to drip down it. Sighed with relief. I could tell her what she looked like now, how I was feeling, without coming off as bizarre. 'I was so afraid your face was going to be awful. But you're really pretty.' Gavin had come over to us, introduced himself. I beckoned Gavin to look at her, see how beautiful she was. I was so relieved her face didn't stretch and distort the way I imagined it would. I reached out and touched her hair, which felt soft as silk. She tolerated this, asked if I was okay, and to be safe as we embarked further.

Gavin retrieved the gin from our freezer and poured us two shots. I asked him if this was something I should be doing, since I was a child. He smirked and said, 'Well... I'm probably a terrible trip sitter.' He asked which shot I wanted. I looked into the glasses and said I wasn't sure how to do this. I was liquid. The glasses contained liquid. How could I fit more liquid into the liquid I already was? I said I'm not sure how to contain more of myself. I don't know if it will fit inside of me. How can we be more us, more full, of ourselves?

He reasoned that obviously, I needed to become solid in order to ingest the liquid. I tried to solidify but kept melting. The old bag of ice Zeta had used to cool himself down hours ago was half melted on the floor. I crawled over to it cautiously. It looked like a sea creature, like something disgusting would happen if I touched it, and I wanted to, but I didn't want to scare it or make it angry. I asked Gavin for permission to touch it. He tried to convince me it was an inanimate object with no feelings, and I could touch it however I wanted.

I cupped my hand under it. He said something about how I was touching it's undercarriage which might be kinda iffy. It was DISGUSTING. It felt awful, I pushed it and asked him to please get it away from me. He did, and it sagged, dangling stickily from his fingers. 'EW! Stop! Stop touching that thing, it's disgusting.' He laughed and reached into his shirt, clasping his shoulder or rubbing his collarbone, I'm not sure which, which was even more disgusting. I reeled back in horror, which confused him. 'What? What is it?' It somehow looked as though his left arm snaked into his shirt and continued into his right arm, as one long wrinkly horribly deformed tube. One arm connecting across his chest and becoming the other. 'That... That... Is not. Natural...' I said, frightened. 'What isn't?' I tried to describe what I was seeing. He removed his hand from his shirt and then put it back in, and I started to gag. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you... That's not normal, I'm sorry that you... You have a problem, and I can't help you with that,' I turned away, scared and feeling genuine sorrow, 'I'm sorry you've become like that and, I can't do anything for you, you have to go to a hospital for that kind of thing, to get it fixed. I'm sorry. They're going to have to... They're probably going to have to cut parts of that off. Only the hospital can do that, I can't do that. I'm sorry.'

'I'm entertained by this problem you're having with a problem I don't have,' he said. I fell into shame. 'Oh god. I'm sorry. I projected my feelings onto you, telling you that you had a problem when you don't. Oh fuck, I'm body shaming you. I'm sorry. You deserve to have all of the parts you want to have, and none of the parts you don't want to have. You deserve that.' He laughed. His hands were huge. His eyes were huge. I told him so. He bugged his eyes at me. I gagged again. 'You're so gross!' He smiled and said something to the effect that he was glad I liked him even though apparently he was very gross. I told him it was true, I liked gross things, everyone likes gross things, because people... We're gross, and in denial about it. 'I mean, where do you draw the line at what's porn and what's gross? Is that porn, or a picture of a dead persons syphilitic penis chancres?' He laughed at this.

'You have a decision to make,' he said, 'which of these two shots is yours?' I picked up the smaller one. He asked me why I liked gin. 'Because it makes me feel like I'm filled with trees.' 'Are you about to become a tree?' 'No...No!' I was afraid. He asked me why I was afraid of becoming a tree. 'I'm not afraid of becoming a tree. It's going to fill me WITH trees and I'm scared I won't be able to get the trees out of me. I don't want to be filled with more trees than I can contain.' He said being filled with trees didn't seem so bad, concurred that gin was tree-like, reminiscent of licking a pine cone. I drank the gin and felt another wave. I could walk now, but would not without sudden bouts of my body trying to become liquid again.

We went outside for a cigarette together. I asked him if it was this beautiful outside the last time we came out here. Looked up into the trees, the sky. Everything was crisp, clear, as though in higher definition than I remembered. I saw a spiderweb and reached out to poke it. He smiled and warned that if one touches spiderwebs while on shrooms, it takes forever to get them off. I did it anyway. 'See?' I removed it and told him he was wrong. He said I was stalling because there was something around the corner I had to face.

It was the chair from earlier. The one who berated me and tried to imprison me as a caterpillar. 'Oh god. Oh no. I, no, I can't. I'm not ready.' My memory blurs somewhat as to how he convinced me, but before I knew it we were in front of two chairs, the one I sat in and the one he had sat in, hours before. 'You can do it. It's just a chair,' he said. I reached out to touch it. 'Come to think of it, yours actually looks much friendlier than mine,' he said, pointing out that his had been covered in dried leaves and little seeds. I'm pretty sure I begged him to just give me a little longer, I couldn't do it yet. So we stood on the porch for a while, chatting about some things, I don't remember. I tried to pass the chair to go back inside but I became liquid and fell to my knees in front of it. He encouraged me to sit. I tried to lift my body onto it but I was incredibly heavy, it felt like I was grappling with unbearable weight. He helped me up like it was nothing. I reflected on how strong he seemed, as though he could fling me across a room without trying. Did he have any idea how strong he was?

I don't know how many times I'd thanked each of them for being with me, for being so good, supportive, helpful, that evening, but pretty sure I did it again. I was suddenly in the chair. And the chair was fine. It was just a wet chair. His hand went into his pocket and I wondered how deep it went. Did it stretch out forever like most things seemed to? I asked if I could put my hand in there. He said yes, and I dug around in there, 'feeling the pocket's organs'. He said to let me know when I found the heart. I found it. It was a fluffy velvet sack. I put my hand into it, mesmerized at being inside of it. Inside of the heart that was in his pocket. I fit in it. I asked him if he could get my hand out of his heart sack, because I was liking it entirely too much and might not come back out. He removed it. This was utterly fascinating to me. I wondered out loud what masturbating must be like. Or sex. He said, 'Oh, it's weird. You're welcome to try having sex if you'd like to go do that.' 'What?? With WHO? Where?' 'There is a man upstairs, in your bed, waiting for you.' 'What? Zeta? I'm not going to go rape a sleeping person.' 'Alex. Believe me, you will not be raping him. I'm pretty sure he would like to be intimate with you as much as you like to be intimate with him. You do it regularly. You guys are a ridiculous match.' He continued saying something to the effect of us being self conscious idiots made for each other. 'It just seems rude... I don't want to barge in on his privacy, all on drugs and idiotic.' 'I'm pretty sure he's not going to see you as barging in, into your own bed that he is sleeping in.' I laughed and said I wondered if he hadn't been touching me because he was afraid to violate a tripping person, and I was the flip side of that coin, afraid to touch him because I might be a tripped out idiot. (Zeta later confirmed this mutual concern.)

I was relieved I had conquered this chair. 'Yes. It can be a throne for you now.' 'It's not a throne. It's a chair.' 'What's a throne, but a fancy chair?' 'What's a crown but a fancy hat? You're right. It can be a throne, and someday someone will be tripping, and I can make them sit in the chair, and because that person is their own world, an entire world, in that world the chair can truly be a throne. And it will turn them into a caterpillar. It'll be great.' I thanked him again for his kindness and how I sincerely hoped we could do this again. He said it was an honor to be here and fun to do this together. I had reached the ten hour mark at this point and was mostly able to get back through the door when we went back inside.

I asked if he could put his hand in the heart sack so I could see what it looked like. He tried to but it wouldn't fit. I told him I was sorry he had such huge hands and huge eyes. He yelled, 'Only I'm allowed to have eyes!' He was being funny, but it terrified me- his eyes grew huge when he said it, and I suddenly had no eyes, only black holes. I asked him not to do that, because it had taken away my eyes, and I didnt like that.

Exploring the organs in Gavin's pocket had been so mesmerizing that I became curious about the pockets in my own jacket, which lay strewn across the floor. I fingered around inside of it, but somehow it was slimey, I lifted it up but it just oozed around my hand like a pool of black goo, so I let it drip back off of me. My satchel was far less goopy and it looked safe. I wanted to explore in there. I informed Gavin I was going to put my head in the bag and see what happened, how far it went, how deep did it go? 'I can put my face away, and there will be less of me, which is good,' I tried to reason but he told me he liked the current location of my head, and didn't want me to put it away anywhere. At some point we agreed with one another that we're all the same person, but erect imaginary barriers to try to make us separate from each other. He showed me some videos he found stimulating, of people dancing, and a couple of strange cartoons. We agreed that it's nobler and more fulfilling to be a bodhisattva, accepting the pain of samsara and the material world in order to help relieve the suffering of others, rather than attempt to find satori as a Buddha, which seemed rather selfish.

I was becoming loopy from a lack of sleep. It was so late now that Zeta had woken up. At some point I asked how we were three people, and furthermore, how triangles must feel, being the most structurally sound shape. It was time for Gavin to go home and sleep, we wished him well- (I was astonished at how he'd managed to stay awake with me for so long) and Zeta took over once more. I hadn't eaten in a long time and was really curious about food now. Before, everything was so new that purposely introducing something that wasn't already there was overwhelming. By now I had spent many hours on the rug, the floor, on the porch. I'd yet to explore the kitchen or, heaven forbid, doing something more complicated than writing a word, putting on shoes, or being helped into a chair.

Zeta warned me that food would be strange, then went to another room to grab something. I retrieved an egg from the fridge. Rolled it in my hand. It was beautiful, that very slightly prickly texture, so white, so oblong. It seemed twisted I was about to break it apart to put its insides inside of me. Pushing it around in the pan, I was slightly envious; with a little heat it was becoming what I had struggled for hours to figure out- going from a liquid to a solid. I leaned heavily on the counter as I cooked.

Looking up, I saw a smiling Zeta. 'Wow, I'm proud. You can barely stay standing but are somehow cooking on the stove.' I beamed. He was right, the food was very weird. I mostly petted and poked it. Soon we sat outside in the sunlight while he smoked. I still wasn't sure how to liquid my way up the stairs after that. He said he'd help me, but I was determined to make it up there without being carried. It was an arduous process of erecting, and melting down onto my knees, with him in tow prepared to catch me, until I made it to the top.

I became liquid again on the bed in my room. I had difficulty with my clothes, which he helped me out of, and soon found myself wildly pleased at his interest in making love to me. I was very sleepy and well past my peak, but still tripping a bit, so I felt a little useless crumpling and dripping around the bed, but delighted he was willing to manipulate my body into the physical configurations necessary to pleasure me. I felt so intensely blessed and thankful. Just like trains, the ceiling, the sky... The thrusts he made seemed to stretch and reach into forever with me around them. Somehow his movements seemed connected to one another; for example, his lips on my skin were what caused his hand to touch mine, as though we were an organic machine with gears that turned other gears. I had several orgasms that were uncharacteristically calm. (They are typically loud and accompanied by quite a bit of spasming.) Instead I was able to lay there peacefully and have these nice, long, somehow gentle, peaceful orgasms, that I could just lean into and allow to happen patiently. At some point he tucked me in, which amazed me. I couldn't thank him enough. The bed was impossibly soft, softer than I'd imagined anything ever could be. His body beside me also felt pillowy soft, like a marshmallow, but with nooks and crannies I could creep into, like a swiss cheese. I felt his arm drape over me and I asked why the hell I didn't do this sooner. 'You weren't ready. If you'd asked me as recently as a couple years back, I would've said no.' He was right. I settled into him...

Then, 14 very strange, beautiful, scary, thoughtful, abstract, intense hours after first ingesting the mushrooms, I drifted away into very deep, appreciative, exhausted sleep.

Exp Year: 2017	ExpID: 110704
Gender: Not Specified
Age at time of experience: 28
Published: Jun 26, 2018	Views: 3,405
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Mushrooms (39) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Guides / Sitters (39), First Times (2)