Attack of the A.Z.C.L.

But before anyone could respond, the sound of shattering glass and alarms pierced the air and a group of armed and angry people stormed the Emporium. You stared in shock. It was the Anti-Z-Chamber League (A.Z.C.L. for short), their religious paramilitary logo boldly emblazoned on their tactical vests as they stomped in with jack booted bravado.

They were a mix of men and women, their faces contorted with pious anger and overzealous disgust at the very thought of the ungodly and biblically profane transformations occurring in the building.

The receptionist screamed as the leader of the group, a towering man with a scar over his left eye, pointed at the z-chambers. "These abominations must be destroyed!" he roared. "This place is a stain on the very fabric of our god protected society!"

You and your friends looked at each other in horror, the reality of your situation sinking in. If the Anti-Z-Chamber League succeeded in their destruction of the Z-Chamber you had used then your transformation records would be lost. You would be trapped in a bimbo doll body - your original genetics and mental engrams lost. Brad stumbled over to you, his eyes wide with fear. "What do we do?" he whispered.

You giggled nervously.

"We have to stop them!" Tiffany whispered urgently. "If they destroy the chamber, you could be stuck like this forever!"

Her words sent a chill down your spine, and you realized that this was no longer just a fun night out. This was a fight for your very identity. Fortunately for your friends it was only you that had used the chamber. But you couldn’t really appreciate their good luck at the moment.

The leader of the Anti-Z-Chamber League stalked about the transformation room, his scar glinting in the pink neon light. "You perverts!" he spat, pointing an accusing finger at you. "This ends now! In the name of god! Destroy these infernal machines!” He ordered his cohorts.