Free the lovers seems correct

You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that you are standing on sexy platform heel glass slippers wearing what is essentially lingerie that would make anyone on earth see you as a sexy little princess, or the very pleasurable fucking they just gave you. You know when he said “I love you” he was talking to her. A tiny part of you wants to pick “join them” but you are certain the correct answer is “save the lovers.” You look around one last time to be sure you aren’t leaving anything behind or forgetting anything, then open the door and walk through.

There is a slightly different feeling shimmer of magical energy then you begin to feel rather hot. The sexy clothes you are wearing squirm and swarm over you shifting in color and shape till you look down and see you have changed. Your skin has darkened slightly, the fabric is now gossamer thin blue silk and sort of covers you neck to ankle and to your wrists. The entire jumpsuit, you think it would qualify as one, is slit up the sides and flowing enough to bare some piece of skin standing still, not to mention when you move. A golden band with a clasp, almost with the look of thin sexy shackles, hold the garment at your wrists, ankles, and neck. A moment of panic sets in that you are indeed locked in, but they all have extremely easy to open clasps that only require a slight tug to pull free. Under this your sexy little A cups and girly little cock are hiding under a darker blue bikini. On your feet you see the glass slippers have formed into extremely comfortable white fur padded moccasin like shoes with a lightweight leather bottom and two inch heels.

You are standing in the exact center of a huge wooden bridge some 100’ above a ravine that cuts its way through the earth running east to west, if the sun is as it should be. The land to the north looks a bit lower and you can see a sandy desert stretch north to the horizon, a stone lined road winding its way through the desert. To the south the land is obviously more fertile, grass and trees limit your vision to only a few hundred feet, a similar road vanishing south into the growing forest. The sun beats down on you high above, but you see no one. A quick check of your bags has you thinking you didn’t so much travel here as step into someone else’s body, as you don’t recognize anything you are carrying. A quick tug at the short hair on your head reveals it is pixie like cut bob of soft dark brown.

Turning your attention to the two bags, both of which seem larger inside, magic, the first a small backpack, the second, a satchel. You find probably two weeks of rations, four gallons of water, two of ale, a flask of brandy, several bananas, a bedroll, a heavy blanket, two poles with screw hooks to anchor in the ground with a tarp to attach to them as a makeshift tent, a set of small tools, and two weapons. The first is a long dagger in a sheath that is the center of a thin soft belt. You slip it under your clothes and it sits at the small of your back. The second is a roughly five pound carbine style bolt action rifle on a sling. With it are ten stripper clips of seven rounds of what you would guess are short .30 cal bullets. A quick check shows the rifle is currently loaded with a flip safety on.

“Interesting.” You shoulder the rifle with a single motion as if tapping into the memory of this body, or perhaps the old you, you’re not sure. “Very interesting.” You scan the horizon for some kind of clue. “Well I got the impression they lived in a desert, so does that mean I go north?” You ask yourself.