In the mirror is the upper half of small young woman. She was thin, she had thin arms, thin legs, and a chest that just barely escaped the realm of flat. You wore a tight fitting silver tube top minidress with a pair of platform strappy high heels thatt made it hard to walk.
She was you, you being Mark, the 23 year old man who had a normal life until about three minutes ago when you woke up in the body of an asian girl who sure as hell was not you.
You were so preoccupied by your discovery that you didn't notice the large bed stirring until a large arab man fell out of it, making a loud sound of pain when he hit the floor.
He groaned, he was clearly having a hangover from last night. "You, I thought you left last night." He said, struggling to clear his throat.
"Um, sir. Do you remember anything from last night. Because, um, how do I say this. I'm not a girl." You squeak out from a new high pitched voice.
"Not a girl. Hah, usually I have to pay extra for that." He did a little laugh and proceeded to go back to sleep. I thought he was dead, until he cracked out a cough and woke up. Then he fell asleep again.
You eye a small handbag that is sat on a small table in the large suite. It clearly isn't his, so it's probably yours, or rather hers. Who ever she is.
Reaching into the small silver purse, you find...