Printed from https://writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2097091-Federal-Mind-Relocation/cid/3057443-A-wide-eyed-stripper-emerges-looking-as-terrif
She reverses out of her changing room, like a truck needing to manoeuvre. Her ass leading the way, in a tight fuschia outfit. As she blocks your exit, you want to rage in muted frustration. Her face is a picture, as she seems hypnotised by her own humongous bust.
Her gaze is fixated, almost in disbelief, as her hips brush against the door frame, you recognise the horrified dread on her face. It's the same one you're wearing.
"Agent Cochrane." you mutter in a low voice.
Her face removes all doubt from your guess, as she looks mortified to be identified in that body. Behind those seductive eyes. With those pouting lips, the overstuffed tits and ass marking her out, for attention from any male with a pulse.
"At least, you're alive." you remind her.
Her expression falters, as she tries to see the positive. But, her transfer was still traumatic.
"I saw them.... as they shot my body up... I felt them strike..." Her hands fluttered, as if hunting for bullet holes. But, afraid to explore her body, and confirm what her eyes were telling her. That body was hers, and she was a stripper.
"Is this the cover?" you rasp. "A joke, you're disguising me... us, as strippers." you ask.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2097091-Federal-Mind-Relocation/cid/3057443-A-wide-eyed-stripper-emerges-looking-as-terrif
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