Something a bit out there.

“How about a nice big powerful pistol. Like a colt .45 or something.” You can tell she has no idea what the hell that is, but she smiles at the request and closes the door.

An hour passes, and just when you are about to start fingering yourself out of sheer boredom, the door clicks open. In steps yet another beautiful young girl. This one seems far more shy and she walks in quickly sets a bundle of clothing on the bed, then just as fast is gone. A second time she comes back, this time with a tiny wooden table with a metal plate full of fruit, a loaf of hard bread, a bottle of wine, some cheese, as well as a tall thin metal cup and a silver knife. “Thank you.” You call after her as she nearly runs from the room, but she says nothing. Diving in, you polish off all of the food till you are so full that you are tired, and fall back on the bed rubbing your sexy tummy. You simply lie there for several hours in a state of near sleep, yet not quite, trying to make sense of everything. Nothing makes sense, but at the same time this all is starting to feel a bit like home. You can't say for sure when, but after dying, coming back, and finally standing up for yourself, it seems right, and part of you begins to think that you might be able to stop whatever threat lies ahead of you.

Finally you sit up and turn your attention to the pile of clothes. “Wow they really think I am some kind of slut or evil witch or something don't they.” You say laughing as you look it all over. It seems all they have given you is another version of the same thing you were wearing when you walked in, yet ever so slightly less slutty. There is a black leather shirt, well sort of, your brain tells you that it would possibly be called a shrug. It is skin tight soft leather consisting of a pair of tight sleeves that continue past the wrists as a single piece with a hole for your fingers opening just before the knuckles and a hole for your thumb, as far as your torso, it only covers your shoulder blades a tiny bit in the back, and in the front it is tight around your neck like a collar stopping at your collar bones. Running your fingers over it, you are pretty sure it is slightly armored, as your fingernails can't cut it. “Magic maybe?” You ask yourself, but your magic sight seems to be gone as well, as your piercings don't look magic to you anymore either. The next piece you are actually a bit surprised by, a pair of fishnet stockings. “I didn't know they made these in the middle ages. How odd.” But then again you aren't really in the middle ages are you, you realize, and pull them on. “Well I don't know if I am wearing all of this weird stuff, but these feel ever so nice.” Running your hands over your sexy pale legs, you see what the pile has next for you. The next piece you aren't exactly sure what to make of. It is a pair of platform heel shoes, mules you believe if your memory serves you, then attached to the top of them is a long leather strip of armor that would go up to well over your knee, but not quite to the top of the stockings. The shoes have long laces attached even though the style doesn't really have laces, but looking at the leather armor strip you see loops all the way up and you realize the laces are to hold the leather tight to your leg. You aren't sure you like them, so set them on the floor for now. Next you find a somewhat thick leather belt with a strong looking buckle that has a total of five small pouches attached around the length, one on each side, two in the back, and one in the front just to the right of the buckle. Finally you find something that is actual clothing rather than just an accessory. A string bikini that consists of three black triangles of cloth on a tiny wire frame, one for each breast, and the last for your pussy. Wearing only the soft stockings, you first transfer all of the gold coins to the front pouch on the belt, deciding that it will be harder to steal from, and then settle in on the bed finally tired enough to go to sleep.

You are startled awake an unknown amount of time later by the door clicking open.