This choice: Curiosity pricked, you check out your selection of clothes. • Go Back...Chapter #5Curiosity pricked, you check out your selection... by: Mr. George   With a shrug, you accept that you have to move forward as a woman. With this bust, any attempt at passing as a man would be futile. Having made that decision, you feel an unrecognised tension ease and fade from your mind. The suitcase, with your clothes, and your new life sit at the end of the bed. It's an odd conflicted feeling as you imagine the clothes inside. The heat is oppressive, so you hope there's something light to wear, at the same time, you don't want to have to flaunt your body. Not yet... Using your charms to distract and tease, is something you'll have to work up the courage to attempt.
Certainly, with these tits, and at this size Tits!, is the right word. Glancing around the room, you take in everything else within sight. There's a make-up table, with an assortment of items on the top. The three fold mirrors atop it, tell you clearly that's it's purpose. But, your mind still jars, as you realise with surprise you know how to apply them.
With this body, they've given you some ingrained skills to help you adjust. Rising from the sofa, you pace the room. The shutters on the window block the view of the world outside. But, the noise from the street tells you the window is open. The idea of looking out scares and intrigues you. You want to see where you are, and simultaneously don't want to introduce yourself to the world as the busty woman in her lingerie!
As you pace restlessly, you catch your reflection in the mirror. The glance you caught tells you make-up isn't the only implanted skill. You're walking differently, with more movement in your hips, a genuine sway to them.
- - - - -
Hoping for some progress, and not ready to face putting on make-up, you decide to get dressed. You'll feel more decent, more dignified, and ready to face the world. Popping the latches on the case, you open the lid. Half-expecting the items to leap out and smother you with their femininity, you're relieved they're not possessed. As they sit there carefully folded for transport.
Picking the underwear aside, you take the outerwear and hold it up. There's a sigh of relief, when you realise how long it is. You're not going to be forced to wear something revealing... Not on your first day as a woman.
It's fairly shapeless, and you aren't sure you're holding it right. Picking another up, you attempt to work out how to wear it, putting on dresses can't be difficult, but it is unfamiliar. Again, it's modest, and as you hold it up you realise even conservative. It'll reach down to your feet.
A layer of scarves is revealed now, with ornate beading around the edges. This is high quality, but unusually large number of them starts to feel alarming.
- - - - -
Then the alarm bells start ringing, as you find new words popping into your mind.
Abaya...
Hijab...
Jibab...
Niqab...
They float to the surface, and you're able to tell them apart. The bastards have screwed you over. You may be a Latina now, but they've landed you in the Middle East! Despite your new language skills, you're effectively illiterate here.
Fearing and dreading the worst, you tug a jumper on. Hoping for some more control of your shifting bust. You reach for the scarf more by instinct than choice. Wrapping in place, with those alien skills.
Tugging the top to remove any wrinkles, you feel the friction of the material as it runs over your body. Spiking your senses, and making you intensely aware of your new flesh...
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a8/3d/82/...
You do look modest, but there's still no hiding that bust! Storming over to the window, you throw it wide.
https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cb/77/bd/cb77b...
Opposite there's a Coke advert! At least, you assume it is...
You blink a couple of times, hoping to trigger some understanding of the text. That somehow it'll fall into place like your other native skills. However, nothing springs to mind. You curse fluently in Spanish, as you close the shutters, and the bustle of the street.
You truly are in hell! Stuck as a busty, effectively illiterate woman in this... this place!
Groaning, you sink to the floor, overwhelmed by it all. For all you know, that advert could've told you where you are! Painted in script two feet high, it could've said which country you're in, and you're still none the wiser.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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