Woke Up Like This - 4 (Patreon)

“I’m going to take you down to the office,” Daisy said. “There’s some lost luggage in the closet—I’m going to see if we have anything that will fit you. Come along, sugah. ” She took my hand and led me to the door, and I meekly went with her.

She hadn’t seemed like a tall woman standing next to the man, but she towered over me, and my hand was lost in hers. I scuffed along behind her, barefoot, and trying with one hand to keep my breasts from wobbling this way and that and maybe escaping.

That thought made me giggle, and the woman looked back at me and smiled. She gave my hand a little squeeze, which raised my spirits a bit, too.

We went down the hall and through another door to some stairs. I held on tight to Daisy as we went down the stairs. My balance wasn’t good, and I kept trying to tiptoe for some reason. Two flights down, through another door, and we were in a hallway again.

She stopped and used a key to open a door just as the same man from before called out to us. I hadn’t seen him, but there he was right behind me, Daisy looking past me to where he stood in the hall.

“The cops will want to talk to her if they find out we have a missing guest,” he said. “I’m going to show mister flaky checked out this morning. Make sure you get rid of the moron as soon as you get her some clothes.” He glared at me, then turned and hurried down the hall. “I want her out of the hotel in less than half an hour.”

I stuck my tongue out at his back. ‘Moron’ and ‘her’ meant me. Moron might be fair—I felt stupid enough that maybe I was on some drugs. I didn’t know anything about what happened before I woke up. And what I thought I knew, that I had been a man, couldn’t be right. Still, it felt very odd to be called ‘her.’

But I didn’t want to talk to the cops, either. Whatever had happened to me, I didn’t think they could help, and they’d have lots of questions. I didn’t have any answers. I grabbed Daisy’s hand in both of mine and hung on.

We stood in the doorway, Daisy patting me with her free hand and telling me it would all be okay while the man walked away. I wanted to believe her, but the hotel man was so angry, he kind of scared me.

Daisy pulled me close to her. “We can get you dressed, at least,” she said. She patted my shoulder and pulled me on into the room, still in a sort of hug.

The floor in the hallway had been cold on my bare feet, the carpet worn down to a mere hint. The rug in the room had a bit more life left, but I found myself standing on tiptoe every time we stopped moving because putting my feet flat on the floor was chilly and made the back of my heels burn and ache.

Daisy left me standing near a desk while she went to open a closet door in the back wall of the office. She looked back at me then shook her head. “Leo says stuff he don’t mean, child.” Leo? Who was Leo? Oh, the hotel man?

She grinned at me because I guess I looked confused. “I guess you are about the whitest person I’ve seen. Sugar does fit you,” she said.

I giggled, holding the little doll that looked like me while I stared around the room. It all looked very cheap and old with battered furniture and dingy windows. A huge oak desk took up half of the room that wasn’t full of filing cabinets overflowing with paper. This was not a very good hotel, I thought.

I moved behind one of several gray chairs like you find in offices everywhere. My feet were cramping from walking on tiptoe, and I needed to lean on the chair back. My heels burned, and the small of my back, too. I whimpered, but Daisy wasn’t looking at me, and she didn’t notice.

She dug around in the closet and started pulling out suitcases, most of them looking a bit worse for wear. Some of the bags were huge, and I knew I would never have been able to lift one full of clothes and maybe not if it were full of feathers.

That was a funny thought, and I wanted to giggle, but instead, I coughed, a tiny noise like I wanted someone’s attention. Daisy looked up at me, “Something?” she asked.

I realized I was tasting dust. “Thirsty,” I said. I didn’t need to try to look helpless, but I sure felt that way.

She moved quickly, getting out of the closet and pushing me into one of the gray chairs. “Sit. I’ll get you something to drink.”

I sat and watched her leave by the door we had entered by. Being alone scared me, but I kept quiet, trying to trust her to come back. She wasn’t gone long, and she brought a paper cup of water when she came back.

She held it for me while I drank almost half of it all at once. “Better?” she asked.

I nodded. “Thank you,” I said.

She grinned at me. “You just sit there, Sugar, sip your water, and I’ll find you something to wear.” She put the cup of water on the desk.

“Okay,” I said. It sounded like a good idea, but I wasn’t thirsty anymore. I tried to sit up straight, but my breasts were pulling me forward, my back hurt, and I had to sit with my feet bent, toes on the floor, heels up to keep them from burning and aching.

Daisy sorted through the suitcases, some of them were full of dirty clothes or even mildew. But she did come up with a plaid skirt in red, blue, green and black, a white blouse with pearl buttons, and a pair of lacy pink underpants. “The panties is clean,” she assured me, “but none of these bras going to fit you.”

I blushed. Just the idea of wearing such girly clothes was much too much, but I did need a bra, or I would keep on with the bouncy-bouncy. Thinking that caused me to giggle again. It all made me blush, but at the same time, I kind of enjoyed it. I felt a little tickle inside, thinking about how I looked and people watching me.

Daisy helped me get undressed and redressed in the clothes she had picked out for me, except the first shirt she had chosen turned out not to button across the chest. “Uh, huh,” she said. “Sugar, God loves you, don’t He?”

“Huh?” I said. She poked me gently in one breast, and I giggled again. I got the joke, but maybe God did love me a little bit too much? That made me tickle inside again.

She found a tight t-shirt for me to wear under another shirt that was a little too see-through but big enough. “Keep you from bouncing, too much,” she said. “Well, maybe not, but best we can do until you can get a real bra that fits.”

I reached around to rub my back. “Hurts,” I said. I might have been pouting.

Daisy nodded. “I bet it does.” She shook her head. “Lord, Sugar, do they make bras big enough for those girls?” Which got both of us giggling.