On to Inferno.

Speeding away in your little sports car you can’t seem to get rid of the smile on your face as you think of how many times you saw people eyeing your body, something that never happens in real life, and as you feel the wind whipping through the open windows caressing your wet body, your nipples begin to harden and your mind truly begins to question what is real, the hear and now, or that odd dream where you were a man working in a mall.

You race into the night heading for the much wealthier side of town and the club Inferno. As you pull up you hear the driving beat of club music and see a line stretching down the block to get in. One look at all the sexy people dressed in their fine club wear you know your wet vinyl dress isn’t going to get you anywhere. Speeding on past you quickly look for anything still open that sells fashion. Finally you spot what looks like a store for strippers that is open and decide it will have to do.

As you walk in you see your reflection and almost laugh at how fucked up everything you are wearing is. A sexy little blond no more than 5’3 walks up dressed in a slutty red tube dress that doesn’t leave much to the imagination, “Wow what happened to you? It didn’t rain did it?”

“Fire hydrant exploded by a club, I need everything my outfit is trashed.”

She looks you over, “I’ll say. Ok just strip there is no saving that. Come on let’s get you fuckable again.”

With a smile you do as you are told, eyeing the sexy blond almost hungrily assuming you are surely going to get to taste her delicious pussy. She watches you strip intently, several times looking over at several different styles and even holding things up as if to picture you in them as if you were going to let her pick out your clothes. Finally naked she hands you a pair of black thigh high fencenet stockings and simply says, “Start with these.”

“But I…” Is all you get out before she slaps you across the face.

“I am sorry, but I don’t recall asking your opinion, now put them on.”

You can feel your pussy almost dripping as a heat wells up in you as your hand rubs your stinging cheek. Taking the stockings you sit down on a little bench and put them on. As you finish you do have to admit the pattern of big diamonds just over an inch wide on your legs looks hot. She then hands you a black lace slightly transparent g-string and matching strapless bra that is thin enough that your now hard nipples nearly poke through the fabric and you are sure will show in whatever you wear. As you finish she has you step into a pair platform stiletto heel shoes, they have 6” heels that are a spiral of metal, the rest of the base is clear with a 2” platform under your toes, the top of the shoe is a black one inch strap just behind the toe that is studded with metal spikes, and a matching strap around the ankle leaving the heel open as well as the toes. “Now for the finishing touch.” She lightly runs her hand over your ass and up your side sending chills up your spine, “You are far too soft for leather or vinyl. Although you would be yummy as my little ****, bound and gagged for me to toy with. Hmm, no, I think cloth is best for you.” She grabs a heavily pleated black mini skirt that rides a bit low on the hips and falls just below your ass not even touching the tops of your stockings. Then she has you pull on a simple white tank top with a repeating design of black razor blades, that falls to just above your navel. “There, any club will let you in now.” Looking yourself over in the mirror, you are pretty sure she is right.

“How much do I…” She cuts you off again, this time with a long lingering kiss.

A string of spittle still connecting you as she finally pulls her face from yours, “Do you owe me? Don’t worry I will collect later when ever I want. Phone number and address.” Once you give them to her, she lets you go, slaps your ass, and dismisses you with, “Now beat it, I am working.”

Soon you are back at the club, and feeling sexy. Hiding your pistol and blade in the pockets of your coat, you head to the front of the line. As you walk up you give your best wiggle and strut on your high heels and hope your look is considered as sexy here among these 21 at best trendy fashion types. Most of the girls in line are dressed to impress in their shiniest tiny skirts, belly shirts, and dancing shoes. The guys are mainly in slacks and button up g.q. getups but you thankfully see a few in all black and think your punk anti society look might just have a chance. Then you see the bouncer and your heart nearly hit’s the floor. She is a blond bombshell standing nearly 6’ tall built like a mannequin perched on 4” stiletto heels you guess cost hundreds wearing loose white capri style pants, a white bikini top, a basically transparent armored jacket, and a pair of mirrored yellow sunglasses with small rectangular lenses.

“Where do you think you are going?” She asks looking at you over the tops of her thin glasses letting them fall a bit down her nose.

Knowing you are better looking than most of the girls in line you flash her a grin, step in a bit close, and put your hand to your chin almost innocently, “I have a meeting inside, come on you won’t make me wait in line will you?” Ending this with your best spoiled little brat look, complete with your right leg bent so you are perched on just the toe, letting your heel rock slightly as you move.

She looks you over and smiles. “Wow, you really think that is going to work?”

You smile back at her lick your lips almost sucking on your tongue stud, and answer, “Well yeah. I mean, if you don’t let me in, we can’t fuck, silly.”

She tosses back her head and lets out a snort of a single laugh and looks back at you with a huge grin, “Wow, you are a piece of work. I don’t know how to even respond to that logic.”

As you slink past her she slaps you on the ass hard, and you can’t help but wonder what it is about you that seems to provoke that response from everyone. Once inside you head toward the bar. As you reach the dance floor you see it is glass, with another dance floor below it, and possibly more even below that. You are not exactly sure what the best way to get someone to talk to you, and decide to play the concerned friend. Pulling out a picture of her and setting it on the bar you ask the bartender, “Hi, a friend of mine is missing. Have you seen her? I am really worried about her. I think someone is trying to kill her.”

She eyes the picture for about a second and answers, “Yeah sure you are, you and all the others so far tonight that have asked me the same question. Tell you what, I’ll give you the same info I gave them. She and her friends used to come in here all the time, no I don’t know her name, no I haven’t seen her in the last three days, and no I haven’t seen her friends either.”

You are pretty sure she is lying but as you glance about and see several security guards you decide it best not to make a commotion. Just then a horrible realization hits you, the security guards you see wondering around don’t work here, they are from the same company you hit the other night. You head out on the dance floor and click in the various options in your eyes to see if you can get a clearer view the levels below. Your new enhancements pay off as you see not only the German guard, Sebastian, two levels below you, but standing next to him is you. Or someone in the body you started this all in, Lynx. “What the fuck?” You ask no one in particular. Your instincts are first to kill them both, then to run like hell, then back to confusion. Heading around the room to see how many guards they have with them you also look for anyone else the bartender might have been talking about. That is when you just about ****, letting out a little laugh. “Wow, right in front of everyone, this chick certainly has a pair.” In front of you is a girl dressed as a devil colored red with a long tail, horns, the works, with a box at her waist filled with long test tube like glasses full of smoking red liquid hitting up people as they dance to sell them more quick drinks. And unless you are seeing things, it is Misty.