I slam the door shut and FREAK OUT.

"Shit!" you slam the door shut. "What the FUCK am I going to do? Think Jennifer, think! Think, think, think!!"

Mr. Hewitt, a dead man, has called you a cab. Clearly, the house computer is connected to the internet and is arranging services for you. Aren't you lucky?

"Okay, first thing, Jennifer: you need to get your keys and your wallet." you tell yourself. "I need to go to the basement."

But, when you walk to the kitchen (your high heels doing a sexy *click click* on the hardwood floors) you discover the door to the basement is locked.

"DAMN IT!" you shout.

All your keys, your cell phone, your wallet, your clothes! Everything was down there. Okay, you have no idea where everything actually is in the basement, but it has to be down there somewhere, right?

You trot upstairs. Unable to run because of the heels, you go as fast as you can. With every step you are increasingly aware of your breasts swaying gently from side to side (thank you, bra!) as well as your wide hips and long legs. Thanks to posture training, you stand up straight, chin high, chest out as you walk. You look like a lady.

You root through Mr. Hewitt's personal effects, looking for a cell phone, a computer... something!

Nothing.

Or at least, nothing you have access to. His den is now locked. You walk back to the foyer trying to steady your heart.

Go to the living room.

"Aaack!" you scream, having momentarily forgotten about the house computer. You go to the living room.

Open the left-most cabinet door.

You walk to the built-in cabinets on the far side of the living room and open the door. Inside you find a plastic tray. You take the tray out and inspect the contents, which contain:

• A red leather purse (Coach)
• Keys
• Lipstick
• Powder compact with mirror
• Portable eye shadow and blush
• Tampon
• Wallet with about 100$ of money (but no identification)
• A pack of tissues
• A pair of clean panties (silk with lace)
• A rather heavy silver box about the size of a deck of cards.

You empty the tray and put all of the items into the purse.

Looking back at the tray you notice one item you missed: A card. You pick it up. It's a driver's license with your picture on it, dressed in the nice "business-style" suit you wore yesterday, with the first name Jennifer.

You look more closely:

Gender: F

Holy shit.

You sit down on the couch, suddenly dizzy and confused. The house has forged a new identity for you? Is this real? Is this legal? HAS MY NAME AND GENDER BEEN OFFICIALLY CHANGED AT THE DEPARTMENT OF MOTOR VEHICLES? HOW THE FUCK???

*DING DONG*

Shit.

You walk to the front door. It's Marty.

"Everything okay, Ma'am?" he asks.

"Yes, I think so. Found my purse!" You show him.

"Well, let's go then!"