"Jim!" Rick yelled out suddenly. "You're drinking from the chalice!"
Jim looked down and realized that his friend was right. His eyes went wide, as he knew something would happen, but didn't know what.
"Jamie," a man said nearby. "Stop talking with the customers and get backstage. You're on next."
Rick stared at Jim. "I ... I think he's talking to you."
"What?" Jim asked, noticing that his voice had changed.
"Jamie! Get your ass back there right now!" the man yelled.
Jim looked down at himself and saw that he was no longer a "he". Instead, he was a woman, dressed similarly to the strippers who were currently dancing on stage.
"You better do what he says," Rick said. "He looks pretty pissed off."
"But I'm not a stripper," Jim said.
"He thinks you are," Rick said. "When you transport to a place, it's as though you were already there. But drinking from the chalice seems to make it so that you belong there. And who belongs more to a strip club than a stripper?"
"God damn it!" the man yelled. Suddenly, someone grabbed Jim's arm and pulled him out of his chair. "I don't pay you to talk to the customers. I pay you to strip for them. So, get back there, you fucking bitch."
Jim walked towards the door that led to the back rooms, glancing worriedly over his shoulder at Rick. He couldn't actually go through with this could he? He didn't know anything about how to strip. But then a more worrisome thought came to mind. What if he was stuck this way?
