Find a place to think.

Once you are far from the brothel you drop $20 on a cheap hooker motel to check out the recording. Happily the bed has new sheets so you plop down on your sexy little ass and tell your computer to play. As you remember it starts with him fingering your asshole. The feeling gets you hot instantly as you listen to his words and feel him pressing against your body. Your loins stir and you can feel your now missing cock raging hard against your skirt. There is also an underlying feeling within you of your fingers pushing aside your little tiny g-string and finding your little clit. Your hands grip the bed sheets as he begins pounding your ass. The vision intensifies as your old bodies tactile boost heightens the recording. The odd twin sensation of having a cock and a pussy at the same time is delicious, but you decide you are wasting your time with the recording, if it is worth something, great, but that is it. Turning off the recording your senses snap back to normal, there you are sitting on the bed, two hands full of sheets. “Wait if I wasn't fingering my pussy why did I feel that?” As you say the question out loud it dawns on you that everything you felt was the recording. “I didn't make the recording someone else did. So why do I have it? So this body made the recording.” You answer yourself. With that new realization you decide you better see how it ended, maybe it will offer something.

The recorded feeling of his seed filling then flowing out of your ass is amazing. But the recording doesn't stop there. You feel yourself getting free, the doctor coming in, all the way up to the stab to the leg that drops you ****. As you pass out it changes, there is only one recording stream and it seems to be intentionally muted, but now with only one data flow you can see out of this bodies eyes, under the bed, and with a long thin keyboard device attached to a box with an indent that looks a lot like a large speaker. You can feel this bodies fingers fly over the keyboard typing quickly but she doesn't look at it and it isn't quite good enough to tell what is typed, then the recording ends.

“That is so strange, so this body under the bed made the recording, then somehow I ended up in this body. Then whoever took over my body went and got the device and finished my mission. What the hell do I do now?” You try to concentrate on the details of your first mission in your head but for the most part you can't. You know the drop off was downtown somewhere, an arena of some kind perhaps, but that is it. Either you didn't have the information yet or you simply can't remember. You seem to be at a dead end, yet... “Can I get a hint or something?” You ask looking up, but there are no blue words, no hints, no indication of what you are to do next. “Right.”

Pulling out the phone you similarly pull up your computer and see if you can find any phone numbers anywhere. “Show internal memory.” You say to your computer finally. What follows is a massive display of information that flies by at a rate impossible to fully comprehend, the one saved BTL recording, stats on firearms and armor, maps, hundreds of names of businesses, followed last by list after list of files that are obviously resources for your cybernetics and other utilities used by your computer. Nothing that would tell you what you should do next. As you sit there it dawns on you that you must have some kind of interface somewhere that she used to attach the box to herself under the bed. “On my head?” You say out loud as you start running your fingers through your hair. Sure enough right behind your left ear are what feel a lot like two stereo interface plugs that have a little cover over them that seems to give under pressure. Looking over the phone you see a little hole that when you look at it for a second your computer has a little pop up that tells you it is in fact a cyber interface, but you don't have a plug so that doesn't do you a lot of good. Unless there is something in the room. You think to yourself and start scanning the rather simple little room. Sure enough there is a similar plug location on the desk next to a lamp, but again no plugs. Still. You stroll over and yank out the drawer on the desk. Nothing. “Fuck it.” Scooping up the room key you make your way to the front desk, $30 later you have a pair of interface plugs in hand purchased from a vending machine in the shitty, filthy, hotel lobby.

Back in the room you say, “Here goes nothing.” And stick the little plugs into your head, then in the interface on the desk. Instantly your computer tells you it is loading persona, then you are standing on a blue and black grid next to what looks like a mall kiosk with the logo of the shitty hotel you are staying at. Wherever you look your vision seems to zoom in on whatever you are looking at almost as if you were traveling at light speed. Several times you see something or someone speed by so fast you can't see much of them, but as you concentrate on one that you see pass by you seem to suddenly be gaining up on them as if you were running along following them. The one you happened to pick looks like a large tabby cat dressed up like a ninja with a sword on his back. He turns his head as you get close, pulls out a little eggshell grenade and in a puff of smoke you are snapped back to the entry point at the motel. “Cool.” Looking down at yourself you see your persona is a sexy large breasted version of yourself with longer blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail wearing a blue outlined yellow cheerleader like uniform but with no sort of logo, with an almost batman like utility belt on with a leather holster holding a world war 2 style Luger pistol. As you inspect yourself your computer tells you that your interface, stealth, decryption, deception, and control programs are all rated at a one, and your attack program, the Luger, is a four. Although you don't exactly know what that means. "So where would I get a cool ninja cat body?” You ask or think or whatever. As soon as you do an icon fills your vision and you speed to a storefront that sells what are called persona programs. Just about every one is more money than you have, not to mention you don't have an account to pay for things either. “How do I pay?” Again you are whisked away to a bank, one that advertises that it doesn't need or keep personal data of it's clients which sounds cool, but that doesn't help really as you need to physically deposit money there to begin with. That said at least you do now have an address where you can do that if you want to. You also find several places referred to as runner hangouts, but without any money to pay the cover charge, you can't get inside. Eventually you decide to log off and when you think of it you are taken back to the entry point and a “Disconnect” Option is glowing, as you pass your hand through the glowing green word you find yourself sitting back in the hotel room, plugs in hand. “So I need to hit the bank, and get some online money and find someone looking to hire someone. That's better than sucking cock for cash.” You say laughing. Then laughing at yourself harder as you realize you licked your lips when you said that. “The fuck is wrong with me.” You say still laughing and strip down to go to bed, suddenly aware of how exhausted you are. As soon as your head hits the pillow you are out like a light.

Morning comes far to quickly and you see check out time is noon, so you spend the entire morning in bed. A surprisingly nice shower later you finish, towel yourself dry, and get the first real look at yourself in the mirror. “Fuck I'm sexy.” You say with a grin. Even with no makeup your face is so very sexy. Perky small nose, not puffy but nice and full lips, and bright blue eyes stare back at you. Rubbing your sort of pointy chin you stick out your long sexy red tongue it doesn't exactly surprise you but you do find it interesting you didn't really notice your tongue stud before. You also find a little stud in your nose, and four earrings in each ear, all simple silver. Your body is toned perfection, for a dancer. Really small A cup breasts with perfect sexy little nipples, a slender waist, your computer reassuring you is 24” when you think of it, and sexy 34” hips with a nice perky ass. Your limbs are all slender and long with more muscle tone than you initially noticed. Thinking back to how well you kicked that dudes ass in the alley you can't help but smile at your martial prowess, not even sure when exactly you learned it, but you might just be a bad ass. From the neck down you don't seem to really have any hair, and what you do have is very light. On top of your head is a short bushy mop of blonde hair that doesn't seem to require any real styling as moments after drying it looks perfect after flipping your head around just a little, it just sort of falls in place. Nice, clean, and feeling refreshed, you look over the wad of clothes you grabbed from the brothel. In addition to what you wore out you have a schoolgirl style pleated pink and black skirt, a pair of black skin tight leggings, a blue version of the same bikini top, a small black halter top, and finally a tiny black sort of baby doll style nightie that you could wear as a top or even call a dress but it wouldn't cover much with it's neck that plunges to the navel, completely open back above the waist, and slits up the sides that go all the way up to the waist. Looking it all over you decide to put on the leggings and halter top as that is basically the most modest of all of the clothes. It being daytime and all, and step back into your stripper heels with a little giggle.

Once you have checked out of the hotel you hop on the bike and pull up several addresses you highlighted from the night before. Do you want to go get a net account so you can buy things there? Go shopping for other gear? Or perhaps just go to one of the physical addresses where your surfing the net indicated were places you might be able to get yourself hired for some fun and shady work, or get shot trying of course. Decisions, decisions...