A petite and unassertive young woman

You come to with a gasp. Your body is unresponsive, unfamiliar. That's to be expected. It's always that way with a new sleeve, you know. Not that you've had many experiences in other sleeves than your birth sleeve - just once, that time you visited that brothel were all encounters were filmed and made available as porn. But as you start to take inventory, as your senses start stretching out throughout the sleeve, the responses you get are somewhat uncanny. Some things are just... off. You try to lift your arm, but it stays a feeble attempt. You're barely able to touch the skin of your thigh. The skin, you note, is soft and hairless. Have you been given the sleeve of a child?

A man appears in your vision, above you. "Don't try to move, yet. Your stack needs time to integrate with the nervous system of your new sleeve. While we wait, let me run a quick mental diagnostic. What's your name?"

"Zach." You're able to use your voice, at least, though it comes out only as a whisper. "Zach Hemsworth."

The man smiles. "Age?"

"28."

He continues with a few more questions, validating your identity, making sure that there are no problems. You've already spent a few months in VR, and have had time to deal with the somewhat traumatic demise of your birth sleeve. Shot by a police officer in an attempt to get away from a **** bust. Unlike a few of your friends, you hadn't put up any resistance, you just ran. That was probably why your father had been able to get you out.

"Okay, everything seems to be in order. Are you ready to get up and get dressed? Your father is waiting outside."

You try to lift you hand again, and this time the response is better. "Yes, I think so." Your reply is no longer a whisper, but a melodious, soft voice. It's quite apparent to you that it is not the voice of a man that has gone through puberty.

The man lifts you off the table, and sets you down on the ground. You have to lean on him for support, and it's immediately obvious to you that your new sleeve is very short. He towers above you, your face level with his chest.

Okay, you say to yourself. So I'm a child. Makes sense. Five years probation. They've probably stuck me in the body of a 12-year-old or something. I can live with that. By the time my probation is up, I'll at least have a young and healthy body. But there's another sensation, an oddity that now catches your attention. Something is hanging off your chest, rising and falling with each breath. In trepidation, you look down, and your suspicions are confirmed. "I'm... a girl?"

"Yes, Ms. Hemsworth. As per the specifications of your release, your new sleeve needed to be one that your father could easily control. Consider yourself lucky - other possible options were far from as desirable." He steps you in front of a large screen, and it lights up, showing the file on your sleeve. You're biologically 19 years old, standing just shy of 4'10", with an excellent bill of health. No addictions, no latent genetic diseases. A note attached shows that the previous owner sold it, to buy a new sleeve.

"How...this sleeve must have been worth a small fortune. Why did the previous owner discard it?"

"She said it made her feel... unassertive, miss. Wanted a body that would give her more confidence in herself. Which is why it was found to be a perfect sleeve for you. Now, are you ready to see yourself?"

You gulp, but nod. You have to stare yourself in the mirror at some point, anyway. Might as well get it over with. The screen turns into a full-lenght mirror, and your jaw drops. Not only are you in great health, you're gorgeous. A cute, unblemished face, with large, doe-like eyes, wavy blonde hair reaching down to, but not covering, your nipples. Small but perfectly shaped tits, a slender body with a taut stomach and pronounced waist, curving out at the hips, and a firm bubble butt. And, nestled between your legs, a plump, hairless pussy that is certain to give you a camel toe if you try to wear tight clothing.

Suddenly painfully aware of your own nakedness in the presence of the man beside you, you try to cover up as best you can, stumbling as you release your grip on him. "Easy there," he says, and adds "don't worry. I understand you want to cover up, but working here, I see nude bodies all the time." You're about to protest, but something inside you stops you. "If you can just sit down there, I'll find you your clothes." He places you on a stool beside the mirror-screen, and disappears. A moment later he's back, carrying a stack of clothing.