The Dungeon

I regained consciousness cuffed to brackets on a clammy stone wall. My newly acquired petite breasts bobbed teasingly with each inhalation, but lay out of reach of my hands. Bodily things tingled and stirred beneath my pinafore in ways I'd never experienced. "Nice. Still think the view would be better from my old body."

I stretched out my stockinged legs, letting the dress ride up. "Especially that part."

I wiggled backwards to give my arms some slack. Sweat dripped down the dungeon walls, remind me of my thirst. Whiffs of rotting things, old dirt and mildew crept into my nostrils, kinda killing the mood. A skeleton mocked me from the stonework opposite.

"What happened to you? They take the S&M thing a little too far?"

I still cringed at how my voice squeaked like my office buddy's girlfriend. "Note to self: Get new voice actors. Preferably one that doesn't sound like Flipper when she giggles."

A rusty barred window frowned gap toothed at me. A thunderstorm spit in. "Now there's a bit of nonsense! If you made a building like this for real, the water would get in and crack the foundation line."

I shivered. "Well, after I die of pneumonia."

A rat made a circuit around the room, scampering past a display of torture instruments, the skeleton, and a padlocked steel security door. I smirked as it paused beside my Mary Jane's. "Hey, cutie! Wanna keep Vickie company for a few hours?"

The rat answered by biting through my stocking hard enough to draw blood.

"You little son of a bitch!" I rammed my heel into it, but the dirty hairball just scurried to safe distance to watch me bleed.

An iron door at the far end groaned open, sending Mr. Rat darting through a fissure in the damp wall.

A tall figure in greatcoat and old timey duds strode across the filthy stone flooring. A bouffant sprang from his head like a rooster comb. "I must apologize for the rough accommodations. We had the mistaken impression you were breaking and entering."

"I..." My breathing hitched a little when I looked into his dark brown eyes. "No sir. I..."

My face flushed, the aforementioned tingling and stirring returning with double intensity. I unthinkingly let words roll out of my mouth. "Okay, you got me. I actually was trying to break in. But only because I got sucked into a video game and thought solving all the puzzles would get me out. I honestly don't give a shit that you sleep in a coffin or have a radioactive zombie machine in the other room." I spread my legs. "My safeword is `Jigglypuff.' Take me!"

The stranger recoiled at my outburst. "I really must consult with Ms. Whitaker about your dosage. I fear she has done you irreparable harm."

I blushed deeper as I became self conscious. Damn, I thought. I let the bastard vampire-stare me. "Sorry. Guess I got too carried away." 

But then our eyes met again.

I offered my injured leg. "Could you at least suck this clean? A rat just bit me and I don't want to get the plague."

The stranger knelt beside me, eying the bloody wound like a juicy steak. A canine crept of the edge of his lip, making me really, really tingly.

He suddenly leapt to his feet. "I'll have Ms. Whitaker tend to your wound."

"Tease," I blurted.

He did that scary thing where you shove a guy up against a wall and lift them by their throat. "Who told you I was a vampire!"

"Roger Grayson!" I gasped. "He wrote the script!"

"What script! What is a video game!"

"Certainly you've heard of a computer. You've got to run the nuclear power plant somehow!"

"Why am I on your computer!"

"Because Twilight is totally hot!" I grimaced in disgust at what I'd just said. "Sorry. Not used to this body. Female hormones talking...Don't think it helps to have someone choking the life out of you."

He let go, glaring at me. The eyes seemed to bore straight into my brain. "Why. Am I. On your computer!"

"We're trying to capture the female demographic." Then a better excuse popped into my brain. "Magda Chandler cast a spell and sent me to this awful place!"

Dramatic music played from invisible speakers, indicating that I had uncovered a video game plot point.

"Magda, you say?" All tension disappeared from the man's body. "At last, you tell me the truth!"

The manacles squeaked at the turn of his key, but their rusty hinges refused to open until he forced them with his vampire strength.

Once free, I threw my arms around him, giving a lame excuse. "I'm exhausted. Help me up, okay?"

He opened his mouth, doing the breathy bit with the fangs. "Hhhhhhhh..."

I rolled my eyes back in my head, expecting the usual cliche, but then he just lifted me and pushed me up against a wall. "For your safety, I suggest you recover your footing on your own."

"Gee thanks," I groaned.

We wound our way past radioactive cooling machinery, up a narrow staircase, and through a foyer into a Victorian style living room. Crackling flames from the fireplace cast dancing shadows on a library of musty books, and a portrait of that creepy witch that sent me into the video game.

A sour, bird nosed figure rose from a chaise lounge, eyes narrowing at me through wire reading glasses. "You again! Mephibosheth, why did you let her out!"

He gave an easy smile. "It's all straightened out. It appears we have a common enemy!"

I staggered over to the couch, sprawling on the cushions. "Guys, a rat just bit my leg..."

I awoke in the Chandler family's guest bedroom, enveloped in a quilt on a four poster bed. 

I touched my neck. No puncture wounds.

My face flushed with shame as I thought about the moments previous. "Dude, what you did back there was totally gay." 

Then, glancing downwards, "I didn't exactly ask to have these things. They look cute on game sprites, but I didn't really want a set of my own. Not my fault if I do something gay in a girl body...If my body's out there somewhere, I hope it's getting a chick."

I pulled back the quilt. Bandages, no sign of teeth marks, and I didn't want to ruin the dressing by checking underneath.

I got up, checking myself in a full length mirror.

No reflection stared back at me, just the empty guest room. I shivered. "The fuck?"

A music box on the dresser popped open, playing a creepy song on its tinny little keys.

Flames whirled around the interior border of the glass, the evil laughter of Magda Chandler echoing through my brain.

The view in the mirror changed, showing Male Me seated in front of a computer, as if in a trance, pounding out line after line of computer code.

"Enjoy your stay at the Chandler residence," the witch cackled. "You'll be staying there for a very long time!"