The apartment

Needing some kind of comfort you decide an apartment will at least allow you a shower. Striding back to the unlocked door you reach out an unfamiliar hand and pull it open. Inside is a cute trendy two room apartment with beautiful huge windows that while covered with curtains you instantly decide have to open onto New York City as you are very sure you can see the glowing lights of The World Trade Center towering maybe a half mile away. "Fuck, this place has to cost a fortune." The place is immaculate and fully furnished, complete with even artwork on the walls.

You waste no time getting naked and run for the bathroom. Skidding a bit at the last moment to run back and lock the door, the deadbolt, and clack over a bar that will stop it from opening more than a few inches. With one final thought you even push a chair against the door, it may not do much, but hey, works in the movies, right?

Seconds later you are in the shower, and as the dirt and grime wash down the drain you finally let out a Hugh sigh of relief, and lean your head on the wall. Your fingers prune as you just stand there for at least half an hour, much of that time crying, not sure if you should panic or be happy at what has happened to you. "How is this even possible."

Finally you set to actively cleaning yourself and decide your new body is in fantastic shape, a bit weak perhaps, as you feel very little real muscle, but your perky ass, long legs, and sexy breasts would make you a perfect model. Bending down to wash your sexy little feet proves effortless as well, you find you can bend down so easily you can even hug your legs, basically folding yourself in half. Taking your little cock in hand you coax it to life with a little stroking and it swells to a slender but nice 6" or so in length. Unable to resist you even try sucking yourself, but while you are amazingly flexible, and you do lick your sexy little nipples, you only manage to shoot a sticky load in your face. Clean and satisfied you finish your shower, but not before you push your right fist into your asshole, just to see if you can, causing your little cock to dribble a little more cum. Turning off the water you find a very soft pink towel and dry every nook and cranny before heading to the bedroom to check the drawers for some real clothes.

Stepping into the bedroom your eyes are instantly drawn to what sits on the bed. A very old looking tape recorder, the kind with two reels, with the tape that runs between them. Nervous once again you reach out for it and push play.

"All beings able to gain entrance into this sanctuary are free to use it as they see fit. Feel free to take anything you need, but please do not take more than you need. When you are able to do so please come back and replenish any supplies you took plus more, for the next person that finds themselves in need of this place. May the light of the goddess shine for you always. The order." The tape then rewinds to the beginning, a feature you are sure this machine shouldn't have.

"Sanctuary huh." Picking through the drawers you sadly don't find a stitch of clothing. You do, however, find one drawer filled with money, another with bullets, another with all sorts of unissued credit cards and as well as all sorts of other cards and other forms of identification. In the closet you find a pair of shotguns, 5 rifles, and shelf after shelf of handguns. "Why do I feel like someone is going to try to kill me all of a sudden." This gets you thinking and rather than keep looking in drawers you go to the living room to see if there is a computer. Flipping on the laptop at a little desk you try to look up any information about the new you. You have no idea how, till you remember seeing a number on the prison top. It takes a bit of time, but then there it is, the story of an escaped convict with that number wearing that exact top. However it is a huge man named Horacio, 6' 4" and over 300lbs, so in other words, not the new you. There is no mention of any other one with him, and he was last seen 12 hours ago in south Los Angles. Well that is a dead end, tapping your finger on the keyboard for a while you decide to look up the old you. The longer you sit there staring at a blank search bar you can feel the frustration building till finally, "Fuck. Why can't I remember my name?" The weight of all of this gets more tears welling up even as you fight against it. "The store. What was the name of the store?" You try to think next, when suddenly a flash, a memory springs to your mind, but it isn't yours, or is it, you can see yourself, this body, posing in front of the flashes of a camera, hair spiked up, and heavy sparkling makeup.

"I can't do this." You say finally slamming the computer. Next you wash off the g-string and latex bondage top, and toss the ripped shirt in the trash. Hanging the tiny bits of clothing to dry you next settle in and plop down on the bed. Before you fall asleep you do say one thing that coaxes forth a smile, "Well I guess there is a lot of money." You nod off for some time and when you wake you find a clock to tell you it is 7pm. That said you have no idea when it was before so that doesn't really tell you much.

Standing you decide, "I need clothes."