Looking around wildly to get your bearing. The smell of desparation and fear cling to the room. It's a small, grubby room. The stench clings to you, and feels terrifyingly real. Hoping against hope, you try to tell yourself this is just another virtual world. That maybe if you can convince yourself of that, convince yourself this isn't real you can get through it. The sound of pounding music makes the walls feel like they're shaking. The music deep and booming, the rhythm sexual. You hear the more muffled whooops and cheers of men. A baying audience loving what they're seeing.
It's loudest from the door behind you. It feels paper thin, and weak. Turning back around, you see a gorgeous busty blonde looking back at you. As you register its a mirror the fear is clear in her eyes. The strangled mewling whimper clear in your throat.
You're the raw meat about to be tossed to those predators you can hear.
Raising your head to the ceiling, "I'm sorry!" you bleat out to the polystyrene tiles. They don't answer, they aren't listening. The harsh rapping of knuckles on your door rips your attention from the horror in the mirror.
Whirling to face the door, there's a huge man leaning in. His eyes drinking in your body, before reluctantly rising to your face. "You're not ready!" he snarled, "You're a stripper, you have to undress for them. You bimbo, you can't start nude." he snarled.
His head turned aside addressing someone in the corridor. "Cindy help her!"
A bubbly ditz squeezes past him into your tiny changing room. "So, what's the character tonight?" she asks.
Her gaze darting between a confused you, and the glowering guy blocking the door, and the escape you desperate need. Worse, even if you do run off, it's still in this humiliating, sexual body.
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