You make your way back to the bathroom where you had hidden until closing, because you knew the cameras there were disabled, and while you have some magic, using more on that stubborn lock depleted your reserves. Once back in the bathroom, you pause, considering your options, but the brush is heavy in your pocket. No, it weighs on your mind more than your clothes, its power tempting you, enticing you, exciting you. Your plan had been to wait until you got back to the apartment building and likely use one of the abandoned floors to test it, but now... well, now you have an excuse to use it here. You as Emma may be tapped out of your meager magical talents, but this brush.... this brush oozes raw magical power. Taking it from your pocket, considering how to use it to sneak out of this museum safely, your mind races with the possibilities. But then something odd happens....
The brush had a faint bit of black liquid latex on it when you first grabbed it, but now the bristles gleam with a shimmery clear sheen, like a lacquer. Gasping, you realize the brush is sensing your problem, your mind racing about how to sneak out of here has influenced the brush. Trembling with anticipation, and not just a little worry that you might mess this up, you dab the brush onto your forearm, trying the best you can to make a nice, even brushstroke. As soon as you do..
Where the brush covered your arm, there is a deep tingle, and your arm almost seems to vanish, but really it is turning clear, into a translucent latex, and for good measure, you can tell it's hollow, inflated. You pause, moving your arm around, your hand still visible and flesh, ending just at your wrist where the faintest outline of an arm is visible, the flesh resuming at your elbow. Wiggling your fingers, assuring yourself you are fine, you continue painting your arm and hand, all the way to the shoulder until you now have an almost invisible, inflated latex arm. Giggling with delight you start painting more of your body, delight as you see and feel more and more of yourself turn into translucent latex, full of air instead of flesh and blood.
The process is far more pleasurable than you expected, and you intentionally leave your body below the waist until later, but then pause since how can you paint your back? But by this time, your arms are both fully transformed, and you realize they are latex rubber, with whatever properties you need, and simply stretch them, an elastic component to your new self that comes as a welcome and very hand surprise. This new ability makes it far easier to coat yourself, the process speeding up until..
You look in the mirror and see only the faintest outline of a feminine figure, and it would take your breath away, if you were still breathing. But you aren't: you're no longer alive, but an animate, inflatable latex version of yourself, rendered in translucent rubber that seems to be impossibly thin. The brush is all it was said to be, and so much more! You can leave easily now, because even what little image of you shows up on a camera will be impossible to explain, but also easily dismissed as static or a glitch. But, doors opening will be visible, so how to deal with that, plus, where can you put the brush?
Again, the magic of the brush responds to your thoughts, a new type of shimmer on the bristles. Trusting the brush knows what to do, you apply it to yourself once more, but this time, the effect is rapid, not even needing to cover your entire self. As soon as the shimmering bristles touch your new latex skin, you begin to contract, shrinking, and thankfully, the brush seems to shrink with you. In no time at all, you go from human Emma college student down to a three inch tall inflatable doll holding tiny brush. The magic of this artifact is so strong, so powerful and has changed you so much, you almost feel a connection to it, like it is guiding your actions. Reaching to your hi, your hand opens a slip in your self, sliding the brush in, which seems to vanish inside you, the slip sealing closed behind it.
Giggling with delight you go to the bathroom door, far too small and light to push it open, but being so small, and hollow, you simply squeeze yourself thin and push through the gap, your body able to deform seemingly without limit. Making your way through the museum now takes longer, at your vastly reduced size, but you simply run and do cartwheels, giggling as you do, your energy boundless, unencumbered by a human body now that you are a blown up doll toy woman. The front doors of the museum provide no more challenge than the bathroom door and you simply squeeze your tiny self through the crack and are outside in the cool night air, and you have done it, you are free, you have the brush, and it works. Now, how to get home, or where to go?
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