<div class="floatleft">(http://i1326.photobucket.com/albums/u649/wigglebiscuit/Lydia/HumeFemale_zps9b0dc3da.jpg)</div>Flanked by a pair of purple-robed Judges, Lydia marches down the tiled hallway. Dressed only in a pair of slippers and a silk robe, Lydia tries not to think of the gentle brush of the fabric against her skin, or the natural way her body sways as she walks. There was a time when such thoughts would never have occurred to her, but the Dungeon has robbed her of that innocence, and so much more.<br/><br/>Behind and in front of her, other Contestants are likewise corralled down the narrow passageway beneath the gallery floor. This is the Gala of Presentation, one of the few events not broadcast to the ends of the earth for the viewing pleasure of the masses. No, tonight is a private affair, by invitation only.<br/><br/>The Judges stop her in front of a slender metal door.<br/><br/>"Disrobe," intones the one on her left. The gender of the Judge's voice is neutral. She has no idea--no one does--what the gender of the cowled Judges is.<br/><br/>Lydia does as she is instructed, shrugging out of her robe and letting it crumple at her feet.<br/><br/>"Your slippers as well."<br/><br/>Lydia toes out of them, and steps forward. Behind her, one of the Judges bends over and picks up her garments. The door opens, revealing a small, round platform and a narrow, tubelike chamber.<br/><br/>"Step onto the platform," says the Judge. "Remain perfectly still at all times. Do not be afraid, you are perfectly safe."<br/><br/>The metal platform is cool beneath her feet, and hums with some arcane force. The door shuts, plunging her into darkness. Lydia struggles to control her breathing--she's always hated dark, cramped places.<br/><br/>After what seems like an eternity, a circular hole appears in the ceiling above, casting warm light down on her. The platform lurches to life, gently lifting her upward. Lydia keeps her hands at her sides, and soon she is lifted through the ceiling to the room above, which is a grand ballroom. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Rich carpet covers the floor. Marbled pillars support a vaulted roof high above. A band plays soft orchestral music. Servants flit back and forth between lavishly dressed guests.<br/><br/>Lydia has never seen such opulence in all her life. She is a simple girl, taking from a modest village. Her nicest dress growing up was a simple cotton shift that wasn't a hand-me-down.<br/><br/><em>Ironic</em>, she thinks,<em>I finally make it to a ball, and I'm naked as the day I was born.</em><br/><br/>She is trapped in a crystal cylinder which is just large enough to fit her body. Her breasts are dangerously close to touching the sides. Forty-seven other cylinders form a large circle in the center of the hall. People, both men and women, crowd around her cylinder, "ooh-ing" and "aah-ing" like she is livestock on display or some curiosity at the museum.<br/><br/>She drops her gaze and does her best not to blush. Lydia has never been comfortable with her body, and isn't so now, despite the fact that she has never looked better in her life. She has always been beautiful, a fact she has never taken to be a blessing, but after a year of preparation, she is at her peak, mentally and physically. A year of the best food she can eat, of diet and exercise, of daily massages with the finest of oils and perfumes, a year of beauty treatments, of grooming and pampering, has left her glowing.<br/><br/>A vent opens between her feet, blowing cool air into the cylinder. Probably to keep her from suffocating, but it also has the effect of causing her nipples to constrict and harden.<br/><br/>A woman in a silk dress points at her chest. "Look honey," she says to a man Lydia takes to be her husband, "look at her lovely breasts!"<br/><br/>Lydia swallows her modest and forces herself to look at the woman. She smiles and winks at her. She can't afford to play coy, not here, not now. Tonight is just the first move in a chest match that will last until the final contestant is eliminated. A couple like this could become a Sponsor, willing to spend real gold to keep her alive when the cards are against her in the dungeon.<br/><br/>To her relief, the woman smiles. "What's your name, Contestant?"<br/><br/>Her voice is thin through the glass, but Lydia hears her well enough. "Lydia."<br/><br/>"Seek me out during the Gala!"<br/><br/>The couple turns away, making room for another to take their place.