Printed from https://writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1951708-Strange-New-World-of-Transformation/cid/2945850-This-isnt-your-room-Its-a-jail-cell
Worse than waking up in a cell, you're whole body feels wrong. The pounding head-ache from the night before still dominating your thoughts. It all adds to the disconnected feeling you have. But, nothing could mask the shift of a bust, the weight pulling at your shoulders. Or the extra width to your hips.
As if that wasn't blatantly obvious by the way you filled your jail clothes. A hideously orange outfit clings to your curves.
The night before coming back into focus, with a horrifying clarity. As the memories fall back into place, you dash for the toilet. Throwing up noisily into the stainless steel excuse for a toilet. The mane of curls hiding your face from the shame of meeting Jordan's gaze.
As your stomach works, you feel a stinging pain in your back. Another bout of vomiting, and you consider how pitiful you look and feel. You try to think of something... Then another memory crashes into place. That stinging pain, it's your new tattoo, a Tramp Stamp, you ferociously argued to get.
Looking up, the taste of puke still filling your mouth and nostrils, you spot a guard beyond the bars.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1951708-Strange-New-World-of-Transformation/cid/2945850-This-isnt-your-room-Its-a-jail-cell
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