When Ray's parents told him, "go to school, get good grades, and get a well paying job," they probably weren't imagining being a famous guitarist as any part of the ballpark. Much less a famous guitarist who made balloon animals on the side.
Ray's balloon artist career was pretty under the radar, if you could believe it. Because, come on, he wasn't gay. Everyone clearly knows that making balloon animals is gay. Blowing up balloons? Pretty gay. And if his friends-slash-bandmates found out that he was an IHop clown on Friday afternoons and evenings, well, he thought he'd rather die than be exposed that way. Because if there was anything that Ray wasn't, it was gay.
Yet, here he lay in bed, a balloon (one of those long ones for making, say, a balloon sword or dog) lubed up and pushed against himself.
In all honesty, he was just curious. Okay, so maybe he'd stuck quite a few things up his ass in his teenage years. And no, maybe that teenage curiosity wasn't as fleeting as he thought it was. In high school, when people asked him to hide things for them, his first thought was always, can I hide it inside my own body?
He'd since mellowed out on the shoving things up his ass thing. He wasn't gay. Clearly. I mean, look at him.
But can't a man be curious? Like, seriously. Let him try stuff out. Let him cook PLEASE.
And here he was, pushing that balloon up inside himself. With a deep breath in, the balloon hit his prostate and... popped.
The loud pop of the balloon mixed with the force in his body caused something to break. And that's serious... the light barrier shattered. Before he knew it, Ray was in a liminal space of blinding light, floating in midair. Everything about him slowly changing, every aspect of himself simultaneously transforming all too fast and staying just the same.
With a loud thud, he hit the ground.
"...Where am I?"
He opened his eyes.