Try the door

There's no way you can make a jump like that. Up is out of the question, and so is down. That leaves the door... you just hope that there's only one person inside. You slip out of Elena's skin and dress, leaving it on the floor in a **** hope that it'll slow them down. Then, scared about what you're going to encounter, you burst through the door.

The sight causes you to freeze in position, a little startled as you slam the door behind you. The prostitute from earlier is inside with her customer, by the looks of things in the middle of a session. You can see the look of delirium on the man's face as he lies, chained to the bed, a thick black leather mask over the top of his face. His cries of ecstasy continue as the woman from earlier, wearing little more than her profession's attire, leans over him, straddling his legs. She backs up the moment the door slams, turning in shock as she looks at you.

You don't hesitate. The red glow of the black pen casts a shadow over the room. The ecstatic groans continue, along with a sudden flapping as the body falls to the ground.

The groans stop suddenly. The man seems confused, listening out from behind his blindfold, trying to work out what's going on.

"Babe? What's up?" he asks, uncertain.

"Mmm. Time's up, lover," her husky voice replies. Only she isn't saying it. In the few seconds you've had, you quickly grabbed her head, pulling it over yours. Her white skin, almost ghostly pale, encases yours, while her hair, a violent, vibrant red bob, dances around your new neck. You quickly trace your hands across your new chin, making sure the disguise is in place before pulling the body toward you.

"So soon?" The man sounds disappointed.

"Mmm... oh yeah. You're too much for me, tiger." You glide yourself into the disguise, feet slipping in to position, hands following, pulling the taught body up, cupping your now-firm handful of breasts to make sure they're perfect. With a final wiggle of your shoulders, you become your new disguise utterly.

"Can I buy another half-hour?" The man sounds ****. "At least finish where we left off?"

You slowly slip on your clothes, as minimal as they are, and climb onto the bed. Then you point another pen at yourself.

(Author: Collider)