Morning…in all honesty, Tarin hoped that it was late morning or early afternoon. He and Lee had been up late the night before. Hopefully it was somewhere around eleven or noon and Axel hadn’t made too much of a mess in the apartment. They’d gotten a little carried away the night before, and had ended up sleeping much later than usual.

Tarin rolled over and the lace on the edges of his nightie rode up on his thighs. It was kind of scratchy. Wait…lace…nightie? Tarin’s eyes flew open, exactly how crazy had he and Lee gotten last night? Only, as soon as his eyes adjusted to the brightness in the room, Tarin saw pink. A hell of a lot of pink…and lace…and boobs…holy shit…he had boobs.

Immediately, Tarin squeezed his eyes shut…he’d been looking at boobs. Boobs that didn’t belong to Lee. Holy shit he was in trouble… Rubbing his eyes and nearly whimpering at the soft hands and long lashes involved in the process, Tarin experimentally opened one, then the other. Oh god…there were still boobs. They were mostly covered…by something trimmed in lace…with polka dots.

Experimentally, Tarin raised an arm…the hand floated in front of his face and he was even more horrified. The nails were painted. God…the bed was pretty…everything was pretty. Out of the bed Tarin stumbled , making his way to a mirror on the back of the closet door. He was definitely a woman…a woman he’d never seen before in his life.

“Holy shit…” The pretty little hands clapped over the mouth at the sound of her voice, and Tarin shook his head back and forth frantically. Pinching was next, several moments of pinching…maybe this was just another disgusting, horrible, disgusting dream like the one he’d had in the shop. Pinching didn’t work though. He was still there…

There was a needle and thread from a sewing kit and pricking the arm of the body didn’t do anything either…except make it bleed. It was then Tarin noticed…he looked around, closed his eyes and opened them, then turned a slow circle in the room. There were no spirits. What. The. Hell. Was. Going. On?

Tarin had decided a few minutes before that damaging this new body in the interest of trying to wake up from a dream that obviously wasn’t a dream, was futile. The needles were stowed, the pinching had stopped, and the red marks from where he’d tried were already started to fade, for the most part. This skin was slightly softer than his, and in a few places, the pinches were darkening into what would probably be bruises. Tarin filed the information away, as long as this nightmare persisted, he was going to have to be slightly more careful.

As Tarin stood in front of the mirror in slight horror, something even more horrifying occurred to him. IF he was in this body…who was in his? Phone…Tarin needed a phone…where was a phone? Around the room he went in a slightly panicked frenzy, looking for a phone. He found one and dialed the apartment. “Pick up..pick up, pick up, pick up!” Tarin growled into the phone, still slightly horrified at the pitch of his voice in this body. No answer. Tarin cursed at the phone, cursed at it long, and cursed at it fluently.

If nobody was at the apartment, then maybe they were at the shop. Tarin crossed in front of the mirror, heading for the door to the room and caught a glimpse of his girlbody in the lacy, polka-dotted confection he’d apparently been sleeping in. That wasn’t going to do.

Running a hand through his hair, which was really quite nice, Tarin decided that he’d seem less crazy if he showed up put together and clean than if he showed up a total mess. People were already going to think he was nuts…the last thing he needed was to actually look it.

Tarin opened the door to the bedroom and found himself looking up and down a hallway. This was a big apartment, that probably meant roommates. Tarin cursed, hopefully they weren’t home. Across the hall he tiptoed and into what he could see was a bathroom. An awkward shower followed with Tarin doing everything he could to not look at the body while he washed it and dried it. Then it was a quick dash back to the bedroom to find clothes.

Needless to say, Tarin was uncomfortable digging through drawers. There was a lot of slinky-ness, cute-ness, and other ness’ that he didn’t really want to think about putting on his body. Finally finding some practical looking under garments, Tarin again struggled for a few minutes to get those articles on without looking at the body he was putting them on. The bra was fricken uncomfortable too. Women made less and less sense on a daily basis. Then it was on to clothes.

The closet was impressive, and Tarin said a little thank you prayer that he always paid attention to the things that Lee wore. There was no way he was going to dress that attractively though. Jeans were good, jeans were always good so he pulled out and on a pair of those and settled for a simple t-shirt with a v-neck a built in white lacy topped thing under it. Tennis shoes followed and Tarin figured he was ready to go. There was a purse on the top of the dresser and he dug through it, cheered when he found a wallet…complete with an ID.

“Tyranny Jones.” He said, staring at the face he’d seen in the mirror, “Who are you and what did you do to me?”