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MARCIA, MARCIA, MARCIA By Leslie Thompson "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!" Jan Brady stamped her foot and flung herself down onto the bed. Hot tears streamed from her eyes. "It's always Marcia!" she sobbed. "Marcia gets the best of everything, Marcia has all the boyfriends, Marcia gets the good grades, everyone likes Marcia best." She thought about the little jade charm she had hidden in her underwear drawer and wondered if now was the time to use it. Wiping away her tears, Jan rolled over and rose. On her way to the chest-of-drawers, she stopped in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the door and inspected herself. Maybe she wasn't as pretty as Marcia, but she was very nice looking, with long blonde hair and big blue eyes, even if they were red and swollen from crying. Her nose was a little big, but not too much for her face, and she had a nice mouth and even, white teeth. She'd never had to have braces, like Marcia did! And her body was better, much better Jan thought, with her first smile in hours. She had long, nicely-shaped legs, full but not fat hips and a nice butt, and best of all, big boobs... lots bigger than Marcia's. Jan stood up straight, her shoulders back, emphasizing her thrusting bosom. She felt herself filling with a confidence she'd never felt before. She was pretty and sexy in her own right; she was smart and skilled in all sorts of things Marcia couldn't do. Like enter and win the oration contest at school. She never again need feel jealous of her older sister. And she didn't need, or want, to use the little charm, even though it had cost her three months baby-sitting money. It was a new Jan Brady who blew her nose, freshened up her make- up and strode, head held high and boobs outthrust, from the room. It was the same old Jan Brady, however, who tripped on the first step and tumbled down the stairs, coming to rest in an unconscious heap on the landing. A week later, when she was released from the hospital and limped back into the house on the arm of her father, Jan was as morose as she could be. The house was empty. "Where is everybody?" Jan whined, in a tone which grated on the ears of her adoptive father. "Your mother and Marcia are in Santa Barbara, honey," said Mike Brady, as he helped Jan up the steps. "Those three days of cheerleading camp; you remember. They had to go, Jan, but Mom said they'd call you tonight. Bobby, Billy and Cindy are at Aunt Meg's, out of the way until you get moving around a little better. And Alice went to a Moose Lodge convention with Sam the butcher. Looks like its just you, me and Greg for a few days." "Where's Greg?" she asked, as he lowered her onto her bed. "Taking a practice SAT test. He should be home in an hour or so. Now you just relax, little lady. I'll run downstairs and get you some chocolate ice cream, okay?" "Okay, Dad. Thanks." As she lay on the bed, trying to get her leg comfortable, she could hear Mike puttering around in the kitchen. The phone rang and she could hear his voice murmuring. "Here goes our time together," Jan thought morosely. He returned a few minutes later with a heaping bowl of ice cream and a canned soda. "Jan, honey, while I was downstairs, my boss called. I have to go check out a project. Will you be okay for a little while until Greg gets home?" "I suppose so." Jan couldn't keep her disappointment out of her voice. "I won't be long and tonight we'll order in a pizza. We'll have a party, just the three of us." She nodded, putting a smile on her face. Mike kissed her forehead and left the room. A few moments later, she heard his car pulling out of the driveway. As she ate the ice cream, she looked around the room. Suddenly, she spotted a framed certificate on the wall. Getting slowly up, she hobbled over and looked at it. It proclaimed Marcia Brady first prize winner in the oration contest. Jan screamed, "Marcia! It's always Marcia! I bet they'd all be home if it was her coming home from the hospital!" Suddenly, she turned and limped to the chest of drawers. Rummaging through it, she found the little jade charm and clutched it in her hand. It felt warm and seemed to pulsate, as if it realized it were about to be used. Gazing at it, she recalled how she'd come to possess it. Having missed the school bus because she'd been kept after school by Mr. Novak for talking in class (she'd been complaining to one of her friends about something Marcia had done, naturally), she been forced to walk home. The trouble was that the shortest route back to Clinton Drive was down Mockingbird Lane to Cemetery Lane, where all the creepy old houses were. She had just passed the old cemetery, spooky with its broken and falling tombstones and ivy-covered crypts with their morbid statuary and began to cross the street so she wouldn't have to walk on the sidewalk past that old place where the Addams Family lived. None of the girls liked to go past there, because of that weird old bald guy in the overcoat who was always peeking at them through the bushes and giggling. A couple of the parents had come to complain, but nothing ever came of it. Funny, but they seemed to move away later, if Jan remembered right. Ralph's dad got a great job somewhere in Alaska, and Suzie's parents won a lottery or something. Anyway, Jan wasn't taking any chances. Even if the bald guy wasn't around, it was wise to stay away from those strange-looking kids. She'd just gotten to the other side, by the heavily-treed empty lot -- who'd want to live across from that place? -- when a stringy-haired old woman popped out from the bushes, causing Jan to jump in fright. "Hee, hee, hee! Scared ya, did I?" "No, yes, I mean.." Jan stuttered suspiciously. The old woman cackled again. "Haven't lost my touch!" She made a motion which Jan hoped was reassuring with one crooked, taloned hand. "Don't be afraid of old Grandmama Addams, honey. I was just over in the wood gathering a little nightshade and wormwort for tonight's dinner." "I'm not afraid," said Jan, holding her chin high and pushing her glasses higher onto the bridge of her nose. "That's good. Most of you sassy little high school girls think Grandmama is quite the old witch." Jan shook her head, causing her long hair to fly. "Oh, no, the girls don't say that!" "Oh, yes they do," she said with a grimace. "I've heered 'em myself, right there in your locker room." She suddenly looked very angry, but strangely, at the same time, amused. Jan began to get nervous. "Well," she said, trying to unobtrusively slip around the old lady as she spoke, "I don't think you're a witch." "Well, you should!" the old lady cackled, suddenly thrusting a finger into Jan's face, halting her tentative steps. She laughed again, loudly and long, her wrinkled old face inches from Jan's. "You should believe I'm a witch and do you know why?" "No, Ma'am," Jan answered in a tiny voice. The old woman moved even closer, her fetid breath filling Jan's nostrils. Her mad eyes stared into Jan's for a long moment, then shouted hoarsely, "Because I am!" Jan felt as if she were going to faint. The old woman seemed to realize this, and moved away, her expression softening. "Yes," she said in her normal voice, which was bad enough, "I am a witch. I have... powers. Great powers. Would you like a demonstration?" "No, thanks," said Jan, her voice shaking. She clutched her books to her bosom, wondering if she dared run. "Well, you're going to get one anyway! Now watch carefully and I'll show you how I know what those ninnies at the high school are saying about me!" She stepped back and began to make strange motions with her hands while muttering something under her breath. She suddenly stiffed and her eyes closed tightly. Jan was just about to turn and run when... The old woman began to change. Jan gaped. She was getting younger! Her lank gray hair grew longer, turning into lustrous raven tresses. The wrinkles smoothed from her face, revealing creamy skin stretched over cheekbones Cindy Crawford would envy. Her mad, red eyes turned large and a deep blue, complimented by perfect make-up. Her arms also smoothed and shaped, as did her body under the ragged house dress and shawl. Jan gaped as the woman's hips and waist narrowed and her pendulous breasts shrank slightly, then lifted and thrust forward. Now a stunning beauty, the suddenly-young witch became even younger, losing half a dozen years in as many seconds, until she was about the same age as Jan. As a final touch, her ragged black dress swirled into a blue jumper identical to Jan's. "Well, sugah, do you believe me now?" the girl smiled, twisting her head so that her long, lustrous hair flipped back seductively. "You, you're... you're Veronica Lodge! The rich girl, the senior!" Jan stuttered. "No, you ninny," the formerly old woman laughed in Veronica's deep Southern accent, "Ah just look like her. Ah can look like any girl Ah want. How else do you think Ah'd be able to go around your high school and screw any of the boys Ah want?" She laughed merrily, running her hands along her shapely figure. "Don't think they'd want old Grandmama when they could have this, do you? Or this? Or this? Or this?" In quick succession, she changed instantly into other girls Jan knew from school: Cathy Lane, Gidget Lawrence, Betty Anderson, Joanie Cunningham... and Jan Brady! Jan blushed furiously. "I really don't want to know about those kind of things," she said, her head averted. "Look at me!" It was the cracked voice of the old woman. Jan looked up, relieved to see that she'd changed back to her old self. "Pay attention!" Grandmama commanded. In a gentler tone, she continued. "Every girl wants to know about those kind of things, child. Oh, don't worry, your reputation isn't ruined, none of the girls' are. I make sure the boys forget everything after I have my fun. Or the girls, if I've been having my fun from the other side." Jan wasn't quite sure what that meant, and she really didn't want to know. All she wanted was to get away from this horrible old woman. "Please," she said, almost crying, "I have to get home. My parents..." "Aren't home yet, and Alice is at the market," the old woman smiled. At Jan's surprised look, she added, "I'm a witch, child. Why wouldn't I know all about your family and what they're doing?" She leaned forward. "I know all about you... and all about Marcia." Jan's features twisted into the stubborn, frustrated expression her family and friends knew all too well. "What about me and... you know..." "Marcia," Grandmama cackled. "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. You say it often enough, girl, you can say her name to me!" She leaned forward suddenly, her face again almost touching Jan's. "You'd like to be Marcia, wouldn't you?" Jan's mouth twitched. "I... No, I wouldn't. I'm glad to be me. I'd just like for everyone to appreciate me a little more, that's all." The old woman smiled knowingly. She reached out and patted Jan on the head. The girl could hardly keep herself from cringing. "That's a good, kind answer. The right answer for your mother and father or a school counselor. But you and I know the truth, right?" She winked. Jan just stared at her, lips trembling. "I have a gift for you, my pretty." The old woman dipped one hand into the top of her dress and began rummaging around between her breasts. "No thank you," said Jan. "I'm not allowed to accept--" "Oh, hush! Here." She removed her hand and withdrew a long golden chain. At the end of it was an object about an inch long that seemed to be made of jade. As she dangled the object in front of Jan's face, Jan could see that the jade was intricately carved into the figure of a slender young woman. "Oh, that's beautiful," gasped Jan, mesmerized by the object. Without a second thought she reached forward and plucked it from the old woman's fingers. The heavy gold links seemed to tingle against the skin of her neck as she slipped it over her head and the jade figure was almost hot as it nestled deep in the cleft between her breasts. "This is an ancient and powerful charm," said the old woman as Jan gazed raptly down at her cleavage, where the jade figure looked so at home, so natural. "And through it you will be able to live your greatest fantasies and desires." "A charm?" Jan asked, reluctantly moving her eyes away from the jade. "Very old, very powerful," repeated Grandmama. "It can change a person, things, the very reality in which you live. You must use it with caution and common sense." Jan was willing to believe anything now. "How does it work?" "Why, you just think of what it is you want most. Go ahead, try it. Just think of your fondest desire. Try it." Jan stood, her hand clutching the charm through her blouse. It was pulsating now, in rhythm with the triphammer beating of her heart, as if also demanding that she "try it, try it, try it..." "Go ahead, Jan. Make your wish. Who is the one you love and hate. Marcia... Marcia... Marcia..." Grandmama's voice was low and slow, but insistent and penetrating. Jan nodded, yes, yes... It was what she wanted, what she'd always wanted, what she needed to be... "Marcia..." hissed the old woman. "Marcia," said Jan. The charm pulsed. "Marcia..." The voice was hypnotic, demanding. "Marcia." Jan's voice sounded hollow to herself, as if far away. The old woman cackled softly and breathed the final word so quietly that Jan wasn't even sure she heard it at all. "Marrrrrcia..." "Marcia!" The charm fluttered in Jan's hand and she felt a tingling warmth spread from it through her hand, up her arm and quickly throughout her body. The sensation was incredibly erotic. Just like the few times she'd found the privacy to experiment with her sexual organs and discovered how joyful and potent a feeling they could provoke. But this was all thorough her body, more intense than anything she could even imagine. Oh my God, is this how Marcia feels all the time? The spiteful, jealous through was swept away as the sensations caused her to have one huge, shuddering, involuntary orgasm. The feeling then vanished as quickly as it had overwhelmed her. She stood for a moment, disoriented. She didn't feel any different. All the stupid charm had done was cause her to... have one of her... good times. She felt only acute embarrassment as she realized she was standing on the street, her panties wet and her face flushed while the old woman grinned toothlessly at her. "It didn't... it didn't work," she said, almost sobbing. But her voice sounded different? "Didn't work? You young fool, of course it worked! Look at yourself!" Jan fumbled open her purse and withdrew her compact. As she opened it, she noticed that her hands seemed smaller and more delicate, the nails longer and painted a hot pink. She lifted the glass to her face and saw the reflection of... "Marcia!" she breathed. "I really am Marcia." She looked down at her chest. Her breasts were hidden beneath the buttons of a pink silk blouse, the blouse that Marcia had been wearing when she left this morning. But she could still feel the charm nestling warmly between them. She hurriedly undid the top three buttons of the blouse and looked within. Yes, the charm was there! Jan studied the view. The cleft between her breasts wasn't as deep as before. Of course, she had Marcia's breasts now and they weren't as large as hers... hers were... had been... They were a little higher, though, Jan thought, as she felt the lacy Marcia bra cutting a bit higher into her back than her regular ones did. And they certainly were sensitive! Just the unbuttoning had made them tingle and one quick brush of her fingers made the left nipple begin to harden and grow erect. Jan remembered where she was and quickly rebuttoned the blouse. But she couldn't help another look, this time at her now curvy legs, covered in sexy taupe pantyhose under a short purple miniskirt. She wished she had a larger mirror so she could see her butt. She wouldn't have to despise it now, hate the way it thrust out like a shelf without an ounce of fat, not now that it was hers. She straightened up, instinctively shaking her head in the same way Marcia always did to clear the long blond strands from her face, the movement Jan had always thought so calculatedly phony-sexy. "This is great! Thank you!" "Thank yourself, honey. Like I said, the charm gives you what you want most. It changes reality. You've become your sister, you are Marcia." Jan shook her pretty head. "I don't understand." "You got your fondest wish. You've become Marcia Brady. You get to live her life. That's what you wanted, isn't it?" "Yes, but... but what about Marcia, I mean, the real Marcia? What happened to her?" "The worst fate you can imagine," said Grandmama Addams, her voice as hollow as if from the bottom of a well. Jan shuddered. Had she condemned her sister to eternal damnation? Or worse? "Worse!" said the old woman, as if reading her mind. "She has to live as... Jan Brady!" Finally Jan's courage broke, and with the short, feminine but graceful strides of Marcia Brady, the transformed girl dodged around the madly laughing old woman and ran for home as fast as she could! Almost to Clinton street, she stopped, gasping for breath. She walked along slowly, letting her heart return to normal. She had almost forgotten her amazing change until she noticed her reflection in the window of a auto parts store. She halted and turned. She gazed with wonder at her oh-so-familiar but suddenly brand new body. She was Marcia! She ran her hands through her long, golden hair, letting it fall in waves down her back. She turned right, then left, admiring her pert breasts, tiny waist, sexy legs and, yes, she could say it now, perfect butt. She was perfect, she was wonderful, she was Marcia! And her life was going to be great! Jan suddenly realized that four or five men in the store were watching her and laughing. Embarrassed, she grabbed up her things and hurried away. Greg Brady slipped into the girls' room. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom. Hurriedly, he opened the top drawer, carefully lifting aside the neatly folded bras and panties, taking pleasure in their look and feel, but not having the time to enjoy them as he often had in the past. He felt deeper in the drawer, looking for the jewelry case he knew was there. Finding it, he lifted it out and set it on top of the dresser. He opened it and sorted quickly through the collection of necklaces, bracelets and rings. He was irritated; the necklace wasn't there. Damn it, it would have been perfect for his Johnny Bravo gig! He was about to close the case when he noticed a lump in the lining. Something was under it. He pulled it loose and lifted out the jade charm. He was so excited he failed to notice the sound of the shower had stopped. Got it! he exulted silently, slipping the case back into the drawer. As he turned to leave, Jan came out, a large towel wrapped around her. Greg was surprised; he was sure he'd seen Marcia go into the room. "Greg! What are you doing in here? Is that my charm?" As always when confronted by younger siblings, he went on the offensive. "Your charm? Marcia was wearing it." "Well, it's mine," she said, advancing forward with her hand out. "Give it to me!" He backed out of the way. "Marcia said I could borrow it." "No I didn't... I mean, no she didn't!" said Jan, moving closer to him. "Now give it to me!" "No, I'm going to keep it." "Greg!" she shouted. "Give it to me! It's mine!" He was puzzled at the edge of hysteria in her voice, but even more determined to keep his prize. She closed in on him and in one quick movement, he slipped his free hand behind her back and pulled the towel loose. He got a quick glance of one bobbing breast before she pulled it tightly around herself again and stepped back, now crying. Greg took the opportunity to slip the charm over his head, dropping it down his shirt. It tingled and felt hot against his skin. "Nooo!" she yelled. "It's mine!" Greg laughed, taunting her. "It's not yours, it's Marcia's. You're just jealous because she's better than you and prettier than you. You just want to steal something of hers for yourself." She sobbed incoherently, making small motions with her hands, terrified he would destroy the charm's magic. "Are you going to cry now? Or are you going to tell me how bad Marcia is? Are you going to say what you always say?" Jan suddenly sobered, knowing what he was about to do. But she couldn't get the words out, couldn't stop him. He grinned. "Are you going to say it? Your little mantra, your crybaby cry? Say it, Jan... Say Marcia, Marcia, Marcia." She watched in helpless horror as Greg Brady began to change. His curly brown hair suddenly turned blonde and straightened, falling swiftly in long, shining strands around his shoulders. His body seemed to shrink in on itself, becoming smaller, as if he were getting younger. As he became slim and almost a foot shorter, his hips suddenly blossomed out and tiny breasts appeared underneath his shirt. As his form curved into the familiar shape, the breasts grew into full, round points, almost bursting through the thin cotton of the shirt. His hips rounded. At the same time, his muscular arms narrowed and shortened, his large hands shrinking and becoming graceful, with long painted fingernails. For a moment, Jan stared as the face of Greg Brady sat suspended, a puzzled look frozen on it, on the body of his sexy sister. Then the features seemed to flow as if liquid and smoothed into the familiar face of Marcia, wearing the same expression. Finally, his clothes swirled and formed themselves into a pair of shorts and a tube top. Jan waited, expecting the magic to suddenly cause her to believe that this was really her sister. The new Marcia stood, her eyes narrowed, still in a kind of shock. Jan watched as Greg -- she was still thinking of him as Greg! -- began to realize that he was now a teenage girl. He touched his hair, his legs, his now smooth crotch. He looked at Jan in wonder as he held his new breasts cradled in his hands. "Wha... what..." He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and spun to fully face his -- her reflected image. "I'm... I'm Marcia!" she breathed. Jan's face twisted in anguish. "No, I should be! Me!" she thought, then the thought faded, replaced by envy and irritation. Her face settled into the habitually pained expression she always had when observing her sister preen in front of a mirror. "Well, of course you are," Jan sneered. "Who else would you be? And who'd want to be Marcia Brady, anyway?" Greg, no she corrected herself, Marcia Brady smiled smugly at her sister, then turned back to the mirror and ran her hands sensuously across her lithe figure. She kissed her own reflection and said, "I would. I always have. And now I am." Greg Brady had been living in his sister Marcia's body for an entire day, and he couldn't have been happier. Clad in Marcia's prettiest sheer lace nightgown, Greg sat in front of the vanity in the girl's room and brushed his long, golden hair, watching the way his breasts moved up and down as his arm stroked the soft tresses. "Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred," Greg intoned slowly, enjoying the melodious sound of his new voice. He put down the brush and smiled at his reflection. Perfect teeth, perfect skin, perfect hair looked back at him. For what seemed the hundredth time that day, a delicious shiver started between his small, shapely legs and traveled throughout his tiny body. It was a mixture of sexual pleasure and sheer joy, a small aftershock of the massive orgasms he'd enjoyed earlier, as his eager hands explored every millimeter of his new vagina and teased his all-too-willing clit into explosions of joy. Rubbing himself gently across his mound, feeling the wonderful moistness begin again, he couldn't help but laugh out loud. He stood, watching in the mirror as he performed a slow pirouette, the nightgown flaring out to display the smooth, tanned legs. Time for Mister Finger Fuck again, he told himself, caressing his breasts as he headed for the bed. Hearing noises from the hallway, Greg pulled the nightie up over his shoulders and dove into bed, pulling the covers up to his neck. He put a pained expression on his face and looked expectantly at the door. His mom, Carol Brady, opened it slowly and looked in. "Are you all right, honey? We're home," she said, moving toward the bed as she realized "Marcia" was awake. "I'm okay, Mom," said Greg, feigning a weak smile. "You look flushed. And sweaty," said Carol, frowning. "I'd better take your temperature." Greg knew very well why he looked flushed -- twenty-seven orgasms'll do that to you, he grinned to himself -- and he shook his head. "No, I took it myself a little while ago, when I went to the bathroom. It was a little bit high, but I feel okay now. I think I'm getting better." Greg was impressed with himself. He'd done a perfect imitation of the higher- pitched, little girlish voice Marcia always used when talking to her mother. "Well..." said Carol, biting her lip. She leaned forward and placed a cool hand on Greg's forehead. He noticed that she didn't make any effort to keep the top of her blouse from falling open like she usually did when close to any of the guys, and he had a spectacular view of her breasts, straining against a lacy black bra. "Way to go, Mom! What a sexpot!" Greg thought, his eyes glued to the rising and falling of her breasts. He felt his vagina twitch; apparently he was still attracted to chicks, even though he was one himself now. "This is cool. There's gonna be benefits to this that I hadn't even considered," he told himself. He moved his head forward and snuggled his cheek against Carol's bosom. It felt great, firm and soft at the same time. Carol put her arm around the girl and hugged her. "Okay, kitten, I'm glad you're feeling better. It's a good thing tomorrow is Sunday, you can take it easy, sleep late while the rest of us go to church. I just hope you'll be feeling well enough to go to grandmothers' house with us." "I hope so, Mom," said Greg, thinking, "Yeah, right, I'm going to miss spending the day with your dried up old mom when I can be here alone, playing with my little Marcia tits." The thought pleasing him, Greg laid back, letting his face settle into what he thought of as Marcia's "angelic look." It was apparently successful; Carol gave him a big smile and a sudden, warm kiss on the cheek. She stood and moved to the door. "Okay, kids, she's okay, you can come in now," she called into the hall. "But not for long, it's almost bedtime." Greg's brothers and sisters crowded into the room, smiling and talking all at once. He gave them all a wide, lovely Marcia smile, especially Jan, the little bitch. Suddenly, he noticed a tall dark-haired boy hovering in rear of the gaggle of kids. It was him... Greg! Whatever the pack of little idiots was saying was lost on Greg. His eyes were locked onto those of his own body. Was Marcia in there? Was she about to give him away? Just what the hell was going on? It suddenly dawned on Greg that "he" wasn't acting strangely at all; if that really was Marcia in his body, she was hiding the switch as well as he was, maybe better. Greg suddenly reddened as he was struck by the thought of Marcia in control of his body all day, sitting in his room, looking at him naked, maybe even jacking off. Having the shoe on the other foot wasn't nearly as fun. He had to know. Looking "Greg" straight in the eye, he said in his best flirty Marcia tone, "So, Greg Brady, what did you do all day?" The teen smiled, obviously flattered to be singled out. "Oh, I had practice this morning, then hung with the guys. Nothing special." His eyes darted down to Greg's tits, then guiltily up to his face. "You feelin' okay?" He swallowed, and his eyes again flickered to the breast area. Greg almost laughed out loud. Good old necklace! Not only did it make him into Marcia, it made Marcia into him... and she obviously didn't know it! No wonder Jan wanted so hard to hang onto it... Sure, that was it! She'd been wearing the necklace all week... She'd been Marcia all week, then! No wonder Marcia had seemed like such a bitch these last few days, especially to Jan. Little Jan had been getting her revenge and enjoying herself in the process. But if she knew about the necklace, then... Greg turned his attention to Jan. She was smiling, but it was forced. Behind it was the usual envy of Marcia, a look which all the kids knew well. Deliberately, Greg raised a hand and toyed with the necklace, watching Jan carefully. She made no reaction. This time, Greg did laugh. She didn't remember! Oh, that was great! He'd stolen from her the one thing in all the world she wanted the most, to be Marcia, and now he had it. And she was just plain old Jan again. She'd changed back when she took the charm off to shower and put it in the drawer, where he'd found it. Well, Greg thought, carefully tucking the charm back between the deep cleft between his lovely breasts, tough shit. Finders keepers, losers weepers. He had the charm now, and he was going to stay Marcia. Wait, maybe he didn't have to! Maybe... Greg needed to think, to experiment. He had to get all these morons out of here. He dropped back onto the pillows, hand to head in a dramatic swoon that would have done Scarlett O'Hara proud. In a flash, Carol bustled the children out of the room and tucked the covers up around Greg's neck. "You stay right here, honey. Jan and Cindy can double up on the couch in Mike's office. If you've got something, we certainly don't need them catching it." She moved about, gathering up the younger girls' bedclothes and toothbrushes. Arms full, she leaned over and gave Greg another peck on the cheek. "I'll check on you before we leave for church. Are you sure you'll be all right here all day alone tomorrow?" Greg smiled. "I'll be fine, Mother. I'm not really sick, sick. I didn't want to say in front of the others, but it's... you know... that time, and I have really bad cramps and flashes and stuff. You know." Greg could hardly hide his glee as Carol nodded sympathetically. "God, do I! You're just like me, honey. Bind up with cramps for a week so bad you double over, then burst loose without warning and bleed like a stuck pig." Suddenly Greg was seeing a downside to his fun. He gulped deeply as Carol selected dresses and accessories for Jan and Cindy. "The only good thing about the whole mess is I had a few days where I didn't have to worry about getting pregnant. I swear, all your daddy had to do was look at me hard, and I was knocked up. If he wouldn't have died, you'd probably have seven or eight brothers and sisters by now." Hands full, she used one of the more obscure mothering skills to open the door with the edge of her foot. "My mom was like that and so was her mom. We're just natural-born breeders, I guess. All I can say is, thank goodness Mike shoots blanks." Greg's pallor was now real. He'd learned more about Carol, his father and being a woman in the last few seconds than he was sure he wanted to know. He managed a weak wave as Carol said good night and closed the door behind her. Idly twirling a finger around his right aereola, Greg tried to think this thing through logically. He'd wasted the afternoon -- no, he thought with a reminiscent grin and a tingle in his vagina, not wasted -- he'd spent the afternoon playing with all these wonderful new toys, without really considering why he'd gotten them or what would happen if he had to stay Marcia. Or, he had to admit to himself, what would happen if he couldn't stay Marcia. Let's see... He'd turned into Marcia when he put the necklace on. The necklace had to be some kind of magic, or super-duper technology that worked like magic, because he had become Marcia totally, in every way, and all the equipment worked. It probably worked too damn well, Greg worried. If he was totally Marcia, then he'd have periods... and that meant he could get pregnant! And according to Carol, women in her family got pregnant really easy. So that meant that any kind of sex with a guy was out, totally. Greg knew from personal experience that guys lied about having protection, or promised the girl they'd pull out in time, or whatever it took to get into her pants. He wasn't sure if it would ever come to that -- after all, he wasn't a fag, even if he'd always wanted to know what it would be like to be a girl, especially Marcia -- he liked girls, he liked fucking, and he didn't think he wanted to be the one getting fucked. And he sure as hell didn't want to have a baby! He was jumping the gun, he told himself, getting too excited. Maybe I can change back to my own body. All I have to do is take off the necklace. After all, Jan changed back to herself. Rising, he gave himself a final long, regretful once-over in the mirror. Then with both hands, he slowly drew the chain over his head. He watched, astounded, as he changed back into himself. The long blonde hair shortened into a tight nest of black curls, the delicate facial features coarsened, and his beautiful little boobies just shrank away. His torso grew and widened, his hips flattened. His legs grew longer and more muscular. He grinned as the thrust of his semi-erect penis tented the sheer material of the nightie. Before it could tear, the nightie turned into a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt, his usual sleeping clothes. In just a few seconds, he was totally Greg Brady again, totally male. The chain dangled from his right hand. "Son of a bitch," Greg whispered. Even expecting it to happen, it had been amazing to watch, to feel. He couldn't wait for a chance to change back into Marcia, and this time be ready to enjoy the feelings. But he had to find out a few things, first. Tiptoeing to the door, Greg opened it slightly and listened. There was no shouting from downstairs, no uproar. There was no Marcia screaming that she'd been trapped in Greg's body, no other family member shouting that Greg had suddenly morphed into Marcia. The magic had apparently made everyone think Marcia had been downstairs all the time, when it was actually Greg, or at least Marcia turned into Greg, who'd been there. Greg grinned. This stuff could get confusing. Still listening, he crept along the hall to the boys' room and opened the door. Bobby, in his pajamas, was lying in the bed, reading a comic book. He looked up in surprise. "You up, Greg? Are you feeling better?" "Uh, yeah, I guess." Greg wasn't sure what the little fart was referring to, but played along. "Man, everyone was worried about you. You looked really sick, kinda green and all." Greg managed a smile, but he was thinking a mile a minute. They thought I was the one sick today, not Marcia. It works for me no matter what form I'm in, apparently. "So how's Marcia?" he asked. "She still sick, too?" Bobby looked puzzled. "Marcia? She wasn't sick. She took off this morning with some of her goofy friends, and didn't come back until a little while ago. Heck, she was just in the room talkin' to you." Greg shook his head. "You're right, she was. Well, squirt, I'm heading back to my room, back to bed." "I thought you were going to stay in the girls' room tonight," said Bobby. Greg was puzzled. "The girls' room?" "Yeah. That's where you were awhile ago. Gee, you must be sick if you can't even remember where you slept all day. Mom put you in there this morning, 'member? Because their bathroom has all the tile floors and stuff, in case you got the pukes or something. Jan was really mad about it." Greg nodded. "I'm still kinda fuzzy headed. Guess I'd better get back in there, then." "Okay. G'night, Greg." Heading back to the girls' room, Greg wondered about what Bobby had told him. He set the lock on the door -- he didn't need anybody walking in on him for a while -- and sat on the edge of the bed. "Okay," he told himself. "Let's figure this out logically. The charm turned me into Marcia this morning, and I stayed her all day. Apparently, at the same time, it turned Marcia into me, and she spent the day doing whatever. And she and everybody else thought she was me. "But when I turned back into myself just now, everybody thinks I was myself all day, but doing the things I did while I was turned into Marcia. And the magic even provided a bunch of bullshit excuses and reasons for it all to work. Like if I was in this room all day, I had to have a reason to be in this room all day." Greg was getting excited again. This was even more than he'd hoped for. "So, if I use the charm to turn into Marcia, say, on a school day, she'd still go to all my classes and whatever, and if I needed to change back for some reason, the magic would make it okay." A happy thought occurred to him. "I could change back and forth into her a dozen times a day, if I wanted to. This is cool." He decided to change back into Marcia. For one thing, her smaller body fit better on this little bed. And for another, he felt like having a little orgasm fun again. Standing in front of the mirror, he slipped the charm around his neck and waited for the change. Nothing happened. He pulled it off and put it on again. Again, nothing happened, he remained his male self. He slipped it off and put it back on several times. Quickly, slowly, front-to-back, back-to-front. Nothing worked. He didn't change back into Marcia. Forcing himself to remain calm, Greg sat on the edge of the bed. What was wrong? Why wasn't he changing? Was the charm only good for one change? Or was it out of juice? Did he use it all up by staying Marcia for so long? No, that couldn't be it. The charm was still working, in a way. Everyone thought he'd been sick up here all day. And he'd only been Marcia a day; Jan had used her body for at least a week, maybe longer. No, the charm couldn't be out of magic or broken. Jan! He'd find Jan, make her tell him how the charm worked! He was starting out of the room when he halted, realizing that he'd only look like an idiot. Jan didn't remember the charm any more; how could she remember how it worked? But it had worked for her, just like it had worked for him. But how? He sat back, eyes closed, thinking hard. Jan had to be the key. Somewhere, somehow, she'd gotten hold of this magic necklace and used it to turn herself into Marcia. He'd only gotten the benefit of the magic by accident, when he put the necklace on. He sat up straight. "Wait a minute!" he said out loud. "I didn't change right away. Jan was yelling at me to take the charm off, that it was hers, and then I changed. What was it I said...?" He jumped from the bed, a wide grin on his face. Of course! It had to be! For Jan, it just had to be! Standing in front of the mirror again, he smiled, put on the necklace and said quickly, "Marcia. Marcia. Marcia." And he again changed. This time he could appreciate the full pleasure of the transformation. He watched, fascinated as his features flowed like water into those of the beautiful teen and his body warped and reshaped into the familiar, shapely lines. He let out a genuinely girlish giggle as the final touch, the lace nightie, swirled into being from his jockey shorts and T-shirt. With a sigh of pleasure, he gently touched his tender yet rock-hard breasts. Cupping the left one in his left hand, he slowly allowed his right hand to slither down his smooth, curving torso to the magical, feathery slit. He rubbed the golden down softly, allowing only the merest tip of a his finger to penetrate into the already lubricating interior. He looked into the blue eyes of his reflection and moaned softly. "Marcia, I love you. I love me." A half an hour later, Greg reclined against the overstuffed feather pillows on Marcia's bed. He was humming happily as he ate some chocolates he'd found hidden in her dresser drawer. He was making a game of it; he'd lick a piece of chocolate, smear it on a nipple, then wipe the chocolate from the nipple with a finger, then eat the chocolate, sucking the finger clean. It was kind of messy, but fun. These were really wonderful breasts he had, if he did say so himself. Not too big, not too small, they were just right. And really sensitive, too. He wondered what it would feel like to have someone else touching them. After all, it felt completely different when a girl touched or stroked his dick than when he did it himself. Completely different, hell! It felt great, a hundred times better than jacking off. So it made sense that these little tits would respond better to another set of hands. Greg knew that he would soon offer them to that set of hands... He just didn't know yet if they would be the hands of a male or a female. It was a tough call. Sure, he'd always wanted to be a girl, especially Marcia, but that was because they'd always seemed to have it so easy, and he'd always envied them the clothes and the sexy bodies. But he wasn't gay, he didn't like guys. He liked girls, liked them a lot, and he really liked making out with them, especially when they put out. His current girlfriend, Six, was really hot, if a little short and flat-chested, and they'd been doing the dirty for about two months, now. But he knew that spending a significant amount of time in a girl's body -- and he planned to spend a lot of time in this body -- would put her powerful little hormones to work on his mind. The idea of being with a guy would be less and less repugnant, until... To be honest, he was already thinking about it, and it he had only been a chick for one day. At this rate, he'd be a hooker in six weeks if he didn't watch out. He grinned. Marcia would make a lousy hooker. Now some of the other girls at school would be prime candidates for the job. Some of them had already had enough guys to qualify, while others already had the attitude and the wardrobe. Take that hot little Kelly Bundy, for instance. She-- Greg sat up straight, spilling chocolates on the floor. A wonderful thought had struck him. Hurrying to the mirror, he pulled the chain from around his neck and watched impatiently as he changed back into his old self. Then, he replaced the necklace and stepped closer to the mirror. With his fingers crossed, he took a deep breath and said, "Kelly. Kelly. Kelly." This change was the same, and yet it was different. Greg's form morphed into a female configuration, but one which was slightly larger and considerably more zaftig. His arms became smaller and smoother, covered with a fine golden down. His legs lost their musculature, turning long, shapely and tanned, with just a slight hint of sexy bowleggedness. His waist thinned to an impossibly tiny V, and his hips flared outwards, rounding and thrusting. His butt rose, becoming curved and hard, and it jutted outwards like a shelf. His shoulders narrowed and his rib cage shrunk inwards, only to expand outwards again as two high, round and extremely well-formed breasts ballooned on his chest. The nipples were large, hard and extended; the aureoles large and a rosy pink. His genital hair fell out, and he was bald for a moment before his dick and balls withdrew into his body with an audible snap, leaving a small hole which widened into the vertical smile of legend, forming vaginal lips. A fine line of brownish-gold pussy hair appeared, shaved into a narrow bikini cut. His hair flowed into long, wavy locks, platinum with dark roots. His nose became tiny and lifted into an upturned pug. His eyes became huge, his lips curved into a thick pout and his face became delicate. He looked very young and innocent for a brief moment, until a sheen of make-up appeared, heavy mascara around the eyes, three shades of expertly-blended blush and a slashing line of blood-red lipstick that perfectly matched the red of his now- long fingernails. His breasts lifted as the T-shirt turned into a push-up bra, covered by a sheer lace teddy top. His shorts transformed into a pair of g-string panties, quickly covered by a pair of skin-tight black jeans. He almost lost his balance as he was lifted and pushed forward by a pair of 4-inch heels suddenly appearing on his feet. An assortment of wild, cheap jewelry completed the ensemble. Greg stared at his new self. Wow! was all he could think. Kelly Bundy, one of the hottest girls in school, stared back at him. And from every indication of her dress, her stance and her attitude, she was ready for hot sex, right now. Greg had an orgasm before he got the lace top opened, and another before he was able to unhook the lacy but stiff bra. His hands trembled as he cupped the large, firm, incredibly high breasts. With just barely one caress, he caused a third orgasm. God! Marcia's body was nothing like this! This was a... a sex machine! Greg's mind was reeling. His wet panties crawled up his crotch, teasing him even more and he felt a curious but strangely familiar yearning to have more than the g-string inside of him. He involuntarily licked his lips and the reflected image was so sexy and so inviting, even to himself, that he almost doubled over with pleasure and desire. "Christ!" he thought, staggering over to the bed and fumbling at the buttons of his pants, "If I don't masturbate soon, I think I'll pass out." He was in the process of pulling the pants down around his knees when the door to the bedroom suddenly flew open. Greg looked up in surprise, one hand clasping an exposed breast, the other buried deep in his vagina, to see Carol Brady standing in the door, an outraged expression on her face. "Just who the hell are you, young lady, and just what the hell do you think you're doing in my house?" Greg froze at the sound of the voice. He looked up to see his stepmother standing in the doorway, her expression one of shock and outrage. Greg gulped. As Carol turned her head, mouth open to yell something, Greg moved. Worming the tight jeans over his wide hips, he staggered to the door and gave Carol a violent shove. Wordlessly, she tumbled down, too surprised by this act of violence from a tiny teenage girl to even speak. Still struggling to pull his jeans up, Greg stepped over her and duckwalked around the corner of the hall. As he mounted the narrow steps to his attic "pad," he heard Carol's voice crying, "Mike! Greg! Help, help!" Greg was just entering the room when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps running up the stairs. He ripped the necklace from around his neck and counted the seconds as he changed back into himself, now wearing regular jeans, moccasins and a T-shirt. He could hear his mother babbling to someone about a naked girl, hit me, headed for the attic. Fully male, Greg dropped back down the steps two at a time. As he swung into the hall, he almost collided with Mike. Putting a look of exaggerated concern on his face, he said, "What's wrong? Where's Mom? What's she yelling about?" Mike, puffing for breath, glared at Greg. With an effort, he said, "Up. Now." He pointed up the staircase to the attic. Greg, turning to precede his father up the stairs, grinned. The old fart thinks I've got Kelly Bundy stashed in my room. Well, in a way, I do. Wiping the grin from his face as he entered the tiny attic, Greg turned and faced his father. "What's up, Pop?" "You know very well what's up, young man," said Mike, still a bit breathless. I'd better get back to the gym, he thought. Feeling winded, and a little old, made it that much easier to be angry with Greg. Greg looked at him, his face a study in innocence. "No, I'm sorry, I don't." "The girl. Where is the girl?" "What girl?" "The girl who was down the hall, the one your mother saw mast-- er, undressed. Where is she?" Mike turned to look around the room, but it was obvious there was no place that a young woman could be hiding. There was no closet; Greg hung his clothes on a bar in the corner. And the bed was a simple sleeper mattress and box spring, much too close to the floor for anyone to be hiding under it. A tiny desk and chair, an old undersprung easy chair and lamp for reading, a chest of drawers, a small nightstand and that was it. Unless the girl was flattened under the rug, she wasn't in this room. Greg shook his head. "Dad, I swear I don't know." It was true. At the moment, he had no idea where Kelly Bundy was. Greg almost smiled at his own cleverness... but that was a mistake. He was facing a very smart man, one who had seen all of Greg's expressions, heard all of his lies and knew more about him than Greg ever dreamed he could. "Okay. Maybe you don't know. But you did; I can see it in your eyes." He gave Greg a laserlike stare. "Something strange is going on in this house, and I won't rest until I get to the bottom of it." He turned and moved slowly down the stairs. As Greg closed the door, now grinning widely, he could hear Carol's voice asking what happened, where was the girl, what happened to her. Her voice was losing its normal syrupy quality and getting that annoying shrill shriek, the one that Jan had inherited and used so frequently. Greg laughed softly; his dad was going to be in for a bad evening. After sniffing and sneering and sighing for three or four hours, Carol would head upstairs early, still in a snit. But, like always, Mike would mix himself a stiff martini, head upstairs soon thereafter and they'd make up before they went to sleep. If the fight was bad enough, they'd fuck like minks for an hour or so. Apparently, the fussing and the making up really turned Carol on. Greg had spent many an evening slowly beating his meat as he listened to the sounds of their violent lovemaking, undiminished by the paper-thin walls and non-existent insulation of this crappy house. He'd even snuck close to the girls' door a couple of times and heard soft moaning coming from within, in perfect synchronization with the grunts and cries from their parents' room. He often wondered if it was Marcia, or Jan, or both. Maybe they even did each other while they listened. He'd have to check it out one of these times when he put on his little Marcia suit. Greg suddenly slapped himself on the side of the head. "Holy shit!" This was his big chance. He could nail Carol! All he had to do was wait until his dad had put up with all the shit for a few hours and then, just as Mike was heading for the bedroom, he'd pull the big switch. Then, once inside, a quick apology, a little snuggling and then it would be nasty Carol time. Greg's plan worked to perfection. Peeking out of the door later than night, he watched as his father turned into the hallway, heading to his bedroom with a smile on his face. Greg quickly slipped the charm around his neck and whispered, "Mike. Mike. Mike." For the first time, he got to see the other end of the transformation. As his own body changed, becoming taller and more muscular, he watched Mike freeze, then quickly turn into a double of himself. As the changes ended, Greg slipped from the stairwell and headed into the hall. "Greg" looked puzzled for a moment upon seeing him, but shook his head and grinned. He gave his "Dad" a quick thumbs up sign and whispered, "Good night." Greg whispered, "Good night... son." He watched as the enchanted Mike headed up the steps. At least he'll get a good whack off, Greg thought. With slightly trembling hand, he opened the door. The room was almost dark, except for a tiny nightlight near the bed. Shit, Greg thought, I've blown it, she's asleep. But as he slipped into the room, the figure on the bed turned and Greg caught his breath. Carol Brady sat up slightly and smiled at her "husband." She was wearing a microscopic bra and panty set, made of pink lace and barely covered by a super-sheer pink babydoll nightie. She gave him a slow, seductive smile, running her hand sinuously along her smooth, flat stomach, down to her vagina, where she flicked a finger beneath the pink panties. She slowly lifted the finger to her lips and sucked gently but noisily on it with exaggerated motion of lips and tongue. "Hey, Mister Brady," she said in a deep, breathy, sexy voice, waggling the doubly-moistened finger in a "come here" motion. Greg found himself immediately possessed of an immense hard-on; from the feel of it, his dad was as big, if not a little bigger, than himself. And shooting blanks or not, he sure as hell was ready. "Hey, Missus Brady," Greg said with a huge smile, as he moved stiffly forward, staring with a slackjawed smile at the forbidden goodies spread out before him. God, was Carol ever hot! He'd had fantasies, sure, even peeked into her lingerie drawer on occasion, but he'd never dreamed the proper and perky Carol Brady could look like, act like, this! This was just one steaming, sexy bitch, he thought, as she writhed slowly across the bed, her eyes glued to his bulging hard-on, with moves that made the teen-age girls he'd been with seem like, well, children. This was a full-grown, experienced woman who knew what she looked like, sounded like, smelled like and what she could do to, and for, a man. As Greg reached the bed, Carol sat up on her knees and began to unbuckle his belt, her hands moving sinuously and slowly, teasing and encouraging, even as they moved to release him. Greg shuddered as his pants fell, and his dick thrust against the thin material of his father's boxer shorts. Carol, moving even more slowly, caressed Greg's thighs with smooth-fingered, knowledgeable hands, her thumbs flicking inward to just tickle his dick, forcing it to an ever greater degree of readiness. With one quick motion, she pulled down his shorts, allowing his penis to spring to full attention. Before he knew what was happening, she leaned forward and thrust the entire length of the sizable organ deep into her mouth. As her practiced tongue and lips went slowly to work, Greg almost fainted with pleasure and amazement. No wonder his dad married this woman so quickly! Who wouldn't want this as much as possible, as often as he could get it? He took Carol's head in his hands, twisting his fingers into her blonde hair as she continued her slow and unbelievably erotic work on his penis. Pulling away, she grinned up at him and lay back supine upon on the bed. She licked her lips, grinning, and let out a satisfied purr of pleasure. Greg, his head spinning, shucked his remaining clothes and climbed into the bed next to her. As his eager hands reached for her surprisingly youthful and thrusting breasts, she shook her head and smiled. Taking his head in her hands, she gently but forcefully pushed his face down into her waiting vagina. Greg once again discovered, as all lucky men eventually do, that it is entirely possible to busily pleasure a woman's vagina and clitoris with tongue and teeth while simultaneously keeping a wide grin on his face. Almost as surprising as the sweet juices pouring from Carol's pussy was the stream of filthy love-talk pouring from her lips as she writhed against Greg's busy mouth. He'd never suspected she even knew most of these words -- he'd never heard her say so much as 'damn' -- and she was not only saying them, she was saying them in he same commanding tone of voice that Greg's football coach used to the players on the field, and almost as loudly. With a mighty thrust of her big, round butt, Carol came, locking her legs around Greg's head and jerking him forward. Dazed, he pulled free, only to have her pull him downward again as she squirmed lower in the double bed. With one quick, practiced motion that Greg hardly knew was happening, she gripped his erect penis and thrust it into her waiting vagina. Greg gasped as powerful muscles gripped his penis, sucking him inward, pulling at the root, clamping like a Chinese ring at the base of his dick, making it grow harder with pressure and not an insubstantial amount of pleasurable pain. Greg's eyes bulged. His breath came in heaving gasps, which were difficult to take, what with Carol's lips locked around his and her tongue deep in his mouth. Her fingernails raked his back and her legs locked across his back, the lower heel digging deep into his spine as she pulled him into her, seeking an ever-deeper penetration. With blind instinct, Greg's hands went to her breasts, almost as much to have something to hang onto as anything else. He found them swollen with passion, the nipples hard and distended as pencil erasers. Her skin was hot to the touch and she made incoherent noises at a pitch several tones higher than her normal voice. Greg could do nothing but go along for the ride. If it was like this every time, he didn't wonder why his dad didn't mind Carol being the aggressor. Six and his other girlfriends, as young and fresh and juicy as they were, didn't even come close to this kind of sex. This was sheer experience, coupled with a love for sexual pleasure and an unsuspected and completely hidden streak of domination, all wrapped up into one hot little package. Although he knew he was doing his part to satisfy Carol, he couldn't help but feel admiration for his father, who must know a few tricks in bed himself to catch and hold this little hellcat. With another massive, shuddering, bucking orgasm that triggered Greg's as well, Carol relaxed her vaginal muscles and Greg's sweetly tortured tool slipped free. Covering his face with quick kisses, Carol pulled him down beside her, then, obviously not expecting any pillow talk, laid her head on his shoulder, snuggled close and proceeded to fall quickly asleep. Greg, a wide smile on his face, lay staring at the ceiling, his right arm under Carol's head, his left hand idly playing with her firm right breast. Over the next few weeks, Greg had the time of his life using the necklace. For one thing, he virtually quit attending school, simply taking over the body of someone else, spending the day as them and allowing them to attend classes for him. He also managed, by taking over the bodies of their boyfriends, to sleep with -- almost-- every hot girl in school. Even the ones who wouldn't put out -- like that hot little bitch Topanga, who was inexplicably in love with that geeky Corey idiot -- were his playthings when he assumed their bodies and offered them to school lesbian Zelda Gilroy (Zelda wasn't much to look at, Greg reasoned, but she could eat your pussy to the point where you felt like the top of your little female head was going to come off.) So far, Greg had resisted the temptation to try sex with a boy while in a girl's body, but he knew he was getting closer all the time. The temptation was too alluring; it was just a matter of choosing the right guy, somebody he wasn't pals with, so it wouldn't seem too completely weird. In addition to sex, Greg also used the necklace to have fun. He went where he wanted to, when he wanted to. For instance, he spent a weekend in Las Vegas in the body of his father's boss, accompanied by the boss' hot young blonde secretary, who'd been more than delighted to gamble away thousands of dollars of the boss' money, and then, later to join in a active threesome with a high-class hooker provided by the hotel. In various bodies, Greg cashed checks, purchased clothes, CDs and other toys, went drinking in expensive clubs, got into fights (leaving someone else to suffer the hangovers and sore jaws), felt up strange women on the street, walked with impunity into the homes and businesses of strangers, and left those people he found irritating, stupid or just plain boring, in the position of having to explain embarrassing, lascivious or even criminal behavior. Eventually, realizing he couldn't take home the things he'd purchased, Greg decided to create a "headquarters." Using cash obtained while in the body of the super-rich record producer who had refused to listen to Greg's "Johnny Bravo" tapes (Greg liked to return to the man's body regularly for additional humiliations and infusions of cash and drugs), he purchased a lease on an expensive, exclusive and extremely large townhouse in Beverly Hills. He stocked it with a selection of hot cars, food and drink, expensive furnishings and three beautiful maids who were instructed by their "boss" to allow anyone who knew a special code word to make use of their services. Naturally, everyone who showed up possessing the code word, male or female, young or old, was really Greg Brady. Greg found that he liked to drive expensive cars very fast, and that it was better if one did so in the body of a young, beautiful female. There was something about speed that made nipples hard, legs turn buttery and fluids to dampen flimsy thong panties. No wonder there were so few female race car drivers, he reflected one day while traveling at 160 mph along a desert highway, one hand on the steering wheel of the Porsche, the other busy between his long, tanned female legs. They just wouldn't be able to keep their minds on their work. He reluctantly removed his hand -- it wouldn't be a good idea to lose control at this speed, and this bitch's body he was wearing was so hot she practically had convulsions when she came -- and remembered with pleasure the past few days. In Palm Springs, he'd been wearing the body of an extremely rich local fellow, a good-looking young man in his early 20's who had made the mistake of hitting on Greg when Greg was "wearing" Marcia, as he did almost all the time now when he wasn't impersonating someone else. It had amused Greg to turn into the dickhead, then cruise to the seedy part of town in the guy's Prowler and pick up the scuzziest whore he could find. Greg then took her to dinner at the guy's exclusive country club, taking pains to introduce her to one and all as "my fiancee." Stepping outside as the hooker was loudly ordering more champagne, Greg had changed back into Marcia and was planning to go back in to enjoy the fun when a woman imperiously tapped him on the shoulder. Annoyed, Greg turned to see a woman in her early 40s, who would have been beautiful had she not had such a smug, superior expression on her perfectly made-up face. "Young woman, you're obviously an employee type. Get me a fresh drink, will you?" She thrust an empty drink glass toward Greg. With a grim smile, Greg simply walked off. After watching his hapless victim fight off the amorous advances of his hooker "date," while suffering under the glares and laughter of his friends, Greg took the trouble to find out the name of the woman who'd ordered him to get her a drink. The next morning, Greg drove to her house and once again made use of his wonderful magic necklace. Finding himself standing by he front gate suddenly wearing nothing but a sheer nightgown, Greg delightedly called to a gardener working inside the yard. "Yoo hoo, dearie, could you let me in" Greg said