Get out of there!

You stand up, head still aching, wishing you could convince yourself that this was just some kind of weird dream. There is no trace of the woman anywhere. The door is still closed; she's just gone. The sheer lingerie she was wearing lay in a small pile near the rug. She had said she's not even human? Maybe it's best not to pull at thread. Better to focus on the things you can actually do something about.

The clothes you had been wearing when you came in are mysteriously missing, so the first thing needs to be clothes. Your nakedness is just freaking you out and turning you on at the same time, and it's taking more than a little effort to keep from touching yourself. The memory of how incredible it felt is fresh in your mind. You're one hundred percent certain she made you extra sensitive and horny on purpose. There's no way all women feel like this, right? Well, you don't actually know; maybe they do! Deep down, all women are sluts who crave a strong man to...

You suddenly realize you are on the wrong end of that paradigm and imagine a man pushing you against the wall, ignoring your complaints. Your hand begins to slide between your lets again.

With a frustrated groan, you shake your head violently. "Oh, no. I do not have time for that mental crisis right now. I need to get out of here."

You dart to the back of the apartment and find a bedroom, but the closet is empty. 'No clothes? What kind of apartment is furnished but has no clothes? Who even lives here?' You cross to the second bedroom but pause in the hallway, feeling a shiver of dread. The front room is empty. No furniture, decorations, rugs, anything. 'Am I going crazy?' You walk into the room and discover that the mysterious woman's lingerie remains. Literally nothing else in the room but bare walls and floors.

"You fucking bitch, you did this on purpose!" your shout echoes wildly in the empty room and you start to panic. You search everywhere, for anything. The apartment is totally and completely empty. Not a blanket, sheet, towel, or shred of clothing anywhere. There aren't even curtains, you realize suddenly, and remember that you're running around naked in a ground-floor apartment. A deep blush of embarrassment blossoms in your cheeks and across your chest and once again you find yourself aroused. Anyone could have been watching you this entire time. Your tight little body... all your shameful piercings on display...

"Augh! Fuck!" Frustrated, you decide that the sheer lingerie, such as it is, is better than wearing absolutely nothing, and you pick it up. The fabric feels surprisingly nice in your fingers. Soft and cool to the touch. Luxurious. Still, you look at the lingerie like it might bite you.

You grapple for a moment with your injured sense of masculinity, then chide yourself for being stupid. You are a woman now, and this is how a woman dresses, if she's worth anything at all. You accept this truth, as it is a perfect extension of your core belief system. Women exist for the pleasure of men. You hadn't ever considered that you would be the woman in that equation, and you still aren't sure how you feel about it, but the belief is so deeply a part of you that you can't argue with it.

As nice as it had felt in your fingers, the material feels even better as it glides across your smooth thighs to softly cup your sex. The panty portion of the lingerie is little more than a thong. Surprisingly, you don't mind the way it feels nestled against your body. It feels sexy, erotic, feminine. When you bend to pick up the top of the ensemble, the crotch of your panty pulls slightly against you, and you are suddenly reminded of the little metal ball on the end of your clitoral hood piercing.

You will probably never be not-horny ever again, and it's not all because of that bitch's curse.

Growling with sexual frustration and a great deal of determination to ignore your growing need for some release, you pull the dress down over your head and settle it evenly on your shoulders. It's a simple cut, meant to just kind of drape over your breasts and sway at the hem, roughly mid-thigh. And totally sheer. You check a mirror and can still very clearly see the piercings in your hard nipples.

The sight of you in the lingerie catches you off guard. 'Not bad, even with the tiny tits and small ass. I'd fuck this. Wait, what am I saying? Gah!' You search for your phone to call a ride share but realize that even that is missing. "What? You stole my phone?" you shout at the empty room. "You bitch!" You imagine the sound of the woman's laughter, taunting you.

"Whatever, I just need to get home, and then I can figure everything out. I'm sure I can find someone who would be willing to help me. I mean just look at me." You giggle, and then freeze. That's not a sound that's ever come out of you before. 'Better go now.'

Having exhausted your options in the now-empty apartment, and not wanting to just wait around, you pull open the door and enter the hallway. The floor feels cold and hard under your bare feet. The door, apparently a security door, closes itself with a click behind you. 'No going back, now.'