Mike looked at the clock on the wall. 5:15, his shift would start soon. When the recession hit, he had lost his job as a programmer; it was a sheer stroke of luck that he had found this spell on an old Chinese food menu. For the past year, he had been moonlighting as a fetish stripper to pay his bills. On any night, he could be anyone the club wanted. He opened his laptop and checked his email. The manager, Foxy, would send him the theme every night, and he would find and choose a relevant image from google to become. He had, on various occasions, been a Japanese schoolgirl, an amputee, a pregnant woman, a succubus, and many other unique forms. He opened the message; tonight, he was supposed to be...
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