Male

You wonder, 'where the hell am I?' What is the story behind the prison uniform? Your head is now starting to clear a little bit; it only feels like a bad hangover rather than near ****. You click on the desk light so you can see better in the dimness of the room. Upon closer inspection you discover there is no phone in the room. And the beam of light coming through the window is a security light. It is pure darkness outside, which means it's still night. What time of night you have no idea, but it's always darkest before dawn.

What is the gun all about; do I even know how to fire a gun? You think before your brain clicks off about the gun. It's a Raven .25 ACP, the most common gun used in the commission of crimes in the United States.

You laugh in despair, "I don't know who I am, but I can tell you anything you want to know about the gun."

Slowly you pick it up and pop out that magazine, loading it quickly and expertly, like you have done it many times before. The gun feels very natural and at home in your hand, you wonder why?

You safety the gun and put it back on the desk. The magazine holds eight rounds and you assume there is another 42 still on the laid out. You pick up the orange coveralls and put them on. It seems to be the only piece of clothing in the room, so it will have to do. Your cock feels strange as it brushes up against the coveralls. Just the slight touch causes it to swell with an enormous erection. You are rock hard and ready to go in an instant. You feel horny as hell but decide it will have to wait. The piece of paper with the phone number and the photographs go into your pocket. The gun, after confirming it is on safety, and extra rounds go in the other pocket.

You are feeling better and better as your head clears and you now feel like you have just woken up from a full nights sleep. Your energy is high, and your head clear despite the fact you have no idea who you are. You walk over to the window to see what is outside and you are rewarded by the view of a motel parking lot, not a real nice motel either. The street is quiet, and the first thing to catch your attention is the flickering, fluorescent pink sign of the strip club across the street. It flashes on and off, the words GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS dance in your pupils. You look away and see a gas station on the other street corner and beside it is a small waffle house restaurant. There are some other businesses but they appear to be closed for the night. The street is sparsely scattered with lost souls roaming the night. A few cars scream by letting you know it can't be much later than midnight.

You turn away from the window and make your way over to the motel room door. It offers a small view through it's tiny dust covered window. You look out into the motel's inner courtyard. In the center of the courtyard is a pool, it is filled with green slime and a thick layer of tree leaves. You look around and all the trees are naked, their branches shivering in the night air. You determine it is an early autumn evening. The temperature is fairly mild, yet still holds an icy chill in the air. 'Damn, who the hell am I?' you think for the hundredth time since you woke only half an hour ago. You seem to know everything except your name and how you arrived here. Your cock is finally going limp, you wonder why you're so excitable. But, that is the least of your problems right now.

You have a bad feeling about the motel and something tells you that you can't stay here for long. You decide you have better get out and go somewhere else. You contemplate your options... you could call the phone number or check around the motel for some more decent clothes. Or, you could make your way out on to the street and investigate the locals, maybe they can lead to some answers. Your mind flashes back to the strip club's GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS sign with it's haunting glow.