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Nurse?

Why the heck did you just smile at them?

You look around, not seeing the crazy doctor. The men are staring at you. What's up with them?, you wonder.

Suddenly, you realize that you feel different. Odd. Awkward. You look at yourself. You don't remember having long, blonde hair, large breasts, a thin waist, and shapely hips. Where'd those long, slender legs come from? Where'd your body hair go? You look at your clothes and realize that you aren't a nurse, but just dressed nicely in a red dress. Pinned onto the dress is an ID card. A small leather purse also hangs from your shoulder.

You scream. You've never screamed with such a high pitch.

"What's wrong, sugar?" one of the SWAT Team men says.

"I am not sugar!" you scream.

"Now, don't be shy," one of the men grins.

You frantically look around the room. The SWAT men have dropped their weapons and are slowly approaching you, strange looks on their faces ... looks you vaguely remember from your time as a man, and which are making you very uncomfortable. You spot a fire escape towards the back of the room and make a dash, nearly tripping over your high heels.

You crash through the door and find yourself looking down five stories. Hastily, you make your way down the ladders. The SWAT men are close behind you, yelling to you the kind of things you used to whisper to your girlfriend.

You reach the bottom, frantic. The SWAT men will soon be at ground level too, and you have no hope of outrunning such fit men. You search the city street for hopes of escape ... and as luck would have it, you see a nicely painted sports car drive by. Acting quickly, you dash out into the road, forcing the driver to slam on the brakes. You walk up to the driver's side and look at the startled middle-aged man, sitting flabbergasted behind an unlocked door. You notice the man doesn't have on his seat-belt.

"You need help?" the man asks. Quickly, you yank open the door and pull the man out of his car, shoving him to the ground. You then climb into the car and speed off. For a while, the middle-aged man and the SWAT team pursue you, but both soon give up.

Back at home, you rush up to your apartment. Locked. You search your leather purse, and find your keys, driver's license (with altered photo, name, etc.), credit cards and such. You let yourself in, and go to the bathroom. Staring at your face in the mirror, you analyze your predicament.


Written by an anonymous author (edited by wanderer)

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