After The Talent Show Part One free porn video

After the Talent Show Part One By: A Rolling Stone My name is Sam Peterman, and I'm a now normal twenty-three year old musician. About ten years ago, in the early June of 2006, something strange happened to me that carried on all throughout high school. It was a warm spring night on Cape Cod at my Junior/Senior high school. The talent show was going on, and everyone was turning up. They were mostly coming because they wanted to see the senior band Blue's last performance. I, on the other hand, was not even a freshman. I was in eighth grade, and with my friends was in a band called "Crapshoot" by most seniors, after seeing us practice in the band room at school. With me in the waiting room in the back of the auditorium was bassist George Johnson. George was a short, skinny kid, and had been my friend since the sixth grade. Although his looks were on the slightly gangly side, he attracted girls like an estrogen magnet. "So how are we going to stand, exactly?" he asked me five minutes before going on. "What do you mean?" I said. "Nevermind," he muttered. We had been discussing the manner of our performance for the past two weeks, nervous as hell for the upcoming talent show. The theme of the music for the night was classic rock, so the bands were forced to play songs that were written earlier then 1990. We had decided early on to play a Led Zeppelin song, our line-up being perfect for the job. After several days of thought over which song we should play, our drummer, Bob Carter, suggested "Whole Lotta Love". It seemed like an easy song to play, since it was mostly one beat, so we stuck by that. As we walked up to the stage after our name, ZYX, was finally called up. Our vice principal, Mr. Mooney, walked up to the mike and said, "This fresh new band from the eighth grade is to perform the Led Zeppelin staple 'Whole Lotta Love'." I turned to the lead singer, Martin Underwood, and he nodded, his eyes wide open. And so, I began. Slide to the seventh-strike third string too, I thought, repeating what went over and over in my head. The words finally began to be sung, and I seemed to be getting the hang of it more or less, even with my stage fright. The chorus rolled along, and I took the pick and slid it down the frets, just as Jimmy Page did it on the video off On Demand. I actually preferred the version from "The Song Remains the Same", but that was way to hard to learn in a couple of weeks just from watching him. And it would be nothing without an expensive tempo box solo. The pitter-patter drum solo came along, the only weak spot in the song I could find, but I could see Martin was enjoying it, since he started to dance like an idiot even though he was in front of a hundred people. It was my cue to start the strange sounds. Now, I didn't exactly have a knob to twist, so instead I moved the pick up and down the fat three strings of the guitar, and tried to make it sound like a plane crashing. It sounded better coming out of my crappy amp at home, but it was okay. The solo then was beginning, so I slid my hand down to the seventh fret once again, as began yelping and giving me hand signals. I blasted into it all of a sudden, and the crowd jumped slightly at the suddenness of the movement. My fingers moved on their own, from a week and a half of ignoring my homework. It finally ended, and we went back to the old routine. But before I knew it, the song was over, and I was sweating from the pressure and lights. There was applause, even a couple people standing up. We gave them a quick bow of appreciation and walked off of the stage, glad this whole ordeal was over. "Do you think we won?" George kept asking me. "No, but we probably came in second or something," I muttered. We walked into the room and took off of our instruments, and looked at each other for a minute, in silence, knowing what we had just done. It was our live premiere. Mr. Mooney popped his head in the door and asked, "Don't you want to see who wins?" We all nodded our heads and ran out of the room, bolting to the main backstage, and found the audience sitting in silence. They had just finished awarding the winner of the MC category. "And now," the actual principal, Mr. Nelson, said, "The winner of the best rock and roll band." General applause came, and I looked over at Martin and George. Both of them had their eyes squeezed shut and fingers crossed so tight it seemed they'd snap off. Bob, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm. "The winner is: BLUE!" I felt a feeling of pain and anxiety flow through my arteries. "These guys are the greatest band our school has ever had," Mr. Nelson said, "And their performance of 'Mr. Brownstone' was just awe-inspiring." "But, dude, Mr. Brownstone is about HEROIN!" George sneered into my ear. I nodded, in disbelief. "Second place," Mr. Nelson continued, "And the winner of ten dollar gift certificates for McDonald's for each member of the band is: ZYX!" The audience clapped, the principal smiled, and we went up to collect our meager prize. Martin was actually kind of exited, loving McDonald's and all those related, he ran up to the mike, grabbed the piece of paper, and shouted, "ZYX live at the Tweeter Center!" He quickly ran off the stage, eyes wide. The rest of us took the papers, smiled at the audience, and walked off. I saw my mother out there with a camcorder and my father with his Hendrix shirt on, holding up a peace sign. "Come on," I muttered. At around nine o'clock, we all left the school. Our town was a smaller, quainter society on Cape Cod, so my parents weren't as worrisome as most, so I stayed out late every night. Tonight was a night for celebration, at least to an extent, so the four of us got on our bikes and rode off to the down town. If I'd of went home that night, which I really felt like doing, none of this would ever have happened. We had decided to go to the only social place in town that wasn't boring as hell that night: the football field. It was a ways off from the actual high school, for a reason unknown to most in town. We would have went to the beach, but around this time a lot of old people gathered there, and I didn't want to get tangled into that spider web. When we got to the football field, I noticed there was a small crowd of people ranging in ages from thirteen to seventeen, it being Friday. "Do you think Jim is here?" Martin asked us. "Yeah, I think he's over there next to that fat cheerleader," I said, pointing to the other end of the field. Jim was a high school drop out somewhere between nineteen and twenty-four who always bought a cooler full of beer and handed it out to youngsters so they didn't have to get fake ID's. He was actually George's cousin, whom his mother hated with all of her heart. We hid our bikes under a bunch of bushes, and walked over to Jim. "Hey, little guys," he said, walking up to them, "Let me guess, three beers and a Jack." Bob had said two weeks before he wanted to spice up his life. "Yeah," I nodded, reaching into my pocket. "No, no, little soldiers, it's on the house tonight, I hear you grabbed second." I took my hand out, nodding. "Thank god those damn cops are always on Lookout Point," the man muttered, "they ignore the football field even though they did these exact things when they weren't bags." After taking our drinks in hand, we ran up the steps of the bleachers to the top. We took seats on the very top, Martin and George actually on the fence shielding the fans on top from falling to their comas. "You better get on the seats, guys," I said, cracking open the can, "You're gonna get fuck-drunk and fall off." They both slid off the fence slowly, and just leaned against it. "Damn!" I said, impressed they actually listened. Martin shook his can up; his eyes squeezed shut and arm moving so fast you couldn't even see it. "Oh crap," I said, already feeling a little better about myself. We all slid away from Martin. Finally, he cracked open the can and foam spewed out four feet into the air. "Dude," Bob said, laughing, "Snort the foam!" Martin shrugged, took the can, and snorted the foam covered top. "Holy shit!" he said, rubbing his nose and trying to blow it on his arm. "Is it safe to come back?" George asked from way behind us. "Yeah, but you missed it!" I said. After another five minutes, we were in the middle of a good time. None of us were really drunk, buzzed would be a better word to describe it. Under the bleachers, on the other hand, was a whole other story. The four of us crowded around the spaces between the seats to see a couple of sophomores high as hell. "What the hell are they smoking?" George finally said. "It might be PCP or crack," I joked. "No, it's marijuana, I've smelled that smell coming from my sister's room," Martin muttered, "She only smoked it once, and goddamn did my mom and dad screw over her ass for that." "Ha-ha, I get it! Screw over her ass!" Bob laughed. Bob continue to laugh over that for another four minutes. "I hope he doesn't go home like that," I said. "He will," Martin muttered. "You guys," Bob spewed out, "Watch this!" He took the bottle of hard lemonade and poured it onto the girls. "Damnit, Bob!" I yelled. The girls didn't seem very happy either. "Who the hell did that?" they yelled. It seemed that when Bob threw the hard lemonade, some of it landed on a lit lighter. It belched flame, so that one of the girls' pink shirts was singed. They ran out from under the bleachers and to their football playing boyfriends. "Oh shit," George said, throwing the beer can over the fence. He ran like hell. The rest of us seemed to follow, running to the far side of the bleachers. I turned around, though, to see Bob still leaning over the space. I ran back to him, to help him run, but he seemed to be to drunk to listen. He had finished the entire bottle, and was a virgin to such alcohol. He rolled to the left, and fell between the seating. I saw him fall towards one of the metal rods, his head in its direct path. There was no sound of him smacking his skull against the metal. I opened my eyes and saw him floating in midair. "What the hell?" I said, and turned my head to see the rest of the field. Everyone was frozen in place, including the two linebackers stomping up the bleachers. It wasn't just the people, but it was also the smoke, trees and air itself. The sweat on the linebackers' faces was frozen, as if someone had stuck their heads in a flash-freezer. There was movement, though, at the other end of the field. It was Jim, the alcohol dealer. He had a smile on his face, and was nodding a quiet laugh. Before I could stand up, he had begun to run towards me. It looked as if he was moving at a normal speed, but for some reason it seemed he was covering more distance faster. He got up to me, and quickly said, "Please sit down." He sounded a little to sober to be himself. "What's going on?" I asked him, my head darting back and forth to see the frozen world. "That's a good question," he said, "Let me explain." "When I was born I had the strange ability to be able to freeze time within a certain perimeter of less then a square mile. To the outside world, it would seem as if nothing happened, since the frozen moment would last but, simply an exact moment. I, on the other hand, with anyone I choose, could move freely among the frozen moment." "I was also born with an ability much more complicated. It is this ability I am giving to you, for I do not use it as often as I should, and I have a feeling your adolescent mind will take to it immediately. You see, I can take a person's conscience or soul out of his or her body, and place it into another's, and vice versa. I could also do it with myself, by taking a person's soul and putting it into my body, and then jacking myself out and flying into the empty one. Both these only takes concentration and the reciting of a mantra. I am giving this power to you because you are my favorite little dude, and you're worthy of it." I was dumfounded. I could only believe him at the moment, since all the shit I'd seen already was, well, quite unbelievable. "So," I asked, "How could I acquire this power?" "You already have it, man, and happy fourteenth birthday!" My birthday happened to be four days earlier. "How do I use it?" "Just concentrate on your goal, and recite your mantra. It can be anything you want." "Even something stupid, like 'cook top'?" "Sure, mine was 'Jedi of sweet doom'." I smiled and looked down at Bob. I reached down the bleachers and picked him up, and he seemed surprisingly light. "Thanks, Jim," I said. "No problem, little soldier," he smiled, walking off. I dragged Bob down the bleachers, noting that time was still frozen. I finally reached George and Martin, who were also frozen in place, and finally time speeded up again. They were off. I grabbed the drunken Bob and helped him run away from the linebackers. We left our bikes under the bushes, and would go back for them tomorrow. I reached home at about ten-thirty. After closing the door quite quietly, my mother came into the kitchen and asked me, "Where were you? You usually don't stay out this on Fridays." "I was at the 7/11 with the guys," I said, saving myself with the only chain thing in town besides the school. She nodded and walked into the living room. My dad was sitting in his chair, reading the paper. "Good job with the performance son, it was quite mind blowing!" he said, giving him a thumbs up. "Thanks," I said, running up to my room, thinking about the power which had apparently just been bestowed upon me. Waking up was sudden, as I was soaked with sweat. My dreams hadn't been bad that night, mostly having to do with me being a radio-salesman, but for some reason I was sweating and shivering. I got out of bed and peered at the digital clock on my nightstand. "Damnit, I thought I could sleep in," I muttered, seeing it was only nine o'clock on a Saturday. Walking down the stairs, I saw my little brother watching cartoons on the television, while my dad read the paper. My mom was out getting milk or something, it being mid-week for grocery shopping. As I was walking towards the refrigerator, eyes half closed, my dad said, "George called, he asked if you were busy." "What did you say?" I asked him. "I said you weren't and that after lunch you could go over to his place." I nodded, and proceeded to drink orange juice straight out of the bottle. A few hours later, as I neared George's house on the bike I snagged from the bushes, I thought about Jim again. "There has to be at least some truth to what he said," I muttered, thinking of the frozen time, and how impossible that was. I thought about testing out the power, and tried to remember how to use it. "I just don't really know if I want to rip someone's soul out of their body," I muttered. I swerved into George's long driveway, and rode past all the low-hanging trees. I got up to his veranda and hopped off my bike, running up the steps. I rang on the doorbell and waited a second, until George swung it open. "What do you want us to do?" I asked him. "We were going to ride down to Bourne, you know, with the closest McDonald's," he said, holding up the gift certificates, "Do you have yours?" "Yeah," I said, having put it in my shoe after winning it. We went into his house, having to wait for Martin and the Bob to come, and ran up to his room. He slammed the door behind him and picked up the video game controller in front of his bed. "I'm gonna finish this single-player game, alright?" he asked me. "Okay," I said, picking up his old acoustic guitar. I was plucking something off the top of my head, when George's sister's cat Vanilla came into the room and started rubbing herself against my leg. "Shit," I said, pushing the cat away. He seemed intent to keep on showing his affection. George's retriever then trotted into the room, his head held up high in pride. He went up next to him and rubbed his head against the game controller. "Not now, boy, a little later," George said, patting the dog's head. This gave me an idea. If I could really take the souls out of two people and put them in each other's bodies, with the word cook top, what better way to test it out then with a cat and a dog? I scooted back in the bed so I could see both the cat and the dog in perfect view. I squinted my eyes, and repeated in my head, "Take the dog's soul, put it in the cat, and take the cat's soul put it in the dog- cook top." The papers on George's desk began to rustle. They didn't blow off, but they appeared shaky. His TV flickered for a second. The animals began to seem a little dazed, but as soon as this minor disturbance started, it ended. The result was almost scary. The dog in the cat's body began to whimper and hide his head under the bed, shaking in fear. The cat in the dog's body began to run all over the place in a wild frenzy. "Shit," George said, putting the controller down and leaping for the misplaced cat. He grabbed his tail, and the creature let out a harsh meow, which left George a little confused. I got down on my knees to visit the misplaced dog. When I touched it, the damn thing let out a high-pitched noise which could only be described as a bark. I stumbled backwards in shock. At that same time George was able to finally wrestle the real cat to the ground, and he was pawing at his face. "What's wrong with you, boy?" he kept on saying. I had to switch them back, because this wasn't working out. I snagged the cat's tail and flung it over my head, so that it landed on the dog. They, in turn, attacked each other, pushing poor George away. I figured that this was the perfect window of opportunity. Concentrating, I squinted again and focused on switching the two creatures' bodies. Surprisingly, the fight abruptly stopped, and both animals ran out of the room. George just stared at them, and quickly resumed to his game, even though his racing car had crashed. For the rest of the weekend I practiced my skill. I had switched birds and squirrels, a mouse and a cat, a fish and a crab, and many other animals. I had decided on not doing any humans until Monday, when I got to school. I figured; why not nail a couple of seventh graders? I woke up that Monday groggy from a long night of restless excitement. At any moment I could bolt out of my house. "Jesus, Sam, I've never seen you eat so quickly," my mother said, gathering all of her things for work. I simply nodded and grabbed my backpack. "School doesn't start for another half hour, you know." "I figured I'd get a head start to just get there early and make sure I don't get there late." I walked down the road, backpack slung around my shoulder, as a car passed by seldomly. I exhaled, thinking of the long day ahead, and thinking of who my next victim would end up being. "Two seventh graders," I muttered, laughing as evil as I could. A lot of the kids at the junior part of the high school hung out in the front before the school even opened, usually talking about the teachers. Once and a while you would see a kid smoking, but there was nothing really bad going on. George was sitting on the bike racks, playing his PSP. Before I could make it there, though, some of the kids began to notice me. "Hey, you're that guitar guy from that band we saw, you guys kicked ass," most of them said, offering me a high five. "Hey George," I asked him when I got to the racks, "How many times were you noticed?" He held up eight fingers. "Damn, man, we're almost famous," I muttered, sitting on the bike racks and pretending to watch his PSP. I was actually scouting for the unlucky pair of seventh graders who I'd swap. Then I saw them. Two boys were standing next to a truck about twenty yards away. The truck seemed to be empty, so I decided that this would be perfect. Both of them seemed to be Portuguese, and were nearly the same height, but one was a skinny while one was muscular. It was an easy target, since both of them were wearing different shirts. I focused again, squinting, and repeating my goal and password to the power. Finally, after about a minute of waiting, their faces twisted into a sight of shock and fear. "Fuck, dude!" one of them yelled, falling backwards. "Holy crap!" the other said, backing against the truck. I smiled, and knew my powers were real. "What's up with those douches?" George said, looking at the two seventh graders. "I don't know," I lied. "They're acting wicked messed up, I'm gonna go over there." George began to walk over to the two boys. "Oh shit," I muttered, knowing what the two boys would say. George beat me to them first. "What's wrong with you guys?" he asked them. "We switched bodies!" they said at the same time. He pondered this for a minute, and I was stunned when he said, "How?" "We don't know!" the real skinny one said. I had decided this was enough, since they were about to spill some serious beans. I switched them back immediately. George was smarter then most thought, though. The sudden gust of wind, the blank faces on the boys, the static electricity and empty pupils and he knew that there was truth to this. He pulled me aside, as the two boys looked down at themselves in relief, and said, "I think they were telling the truth." "Bullshit," I said, looking back towards them. "No man, they were sincere, that one kid's tears were fucking real." "How the hell did it happen then?" I asked him, trying to cover myself up. "I don't know, but I heard, in a legend, that this land was cursed." "What?" George then proceeded to tell me about how, back in the 1600's, this land was cursed by Native Americans after a group of white settlers started to kill off members of their tribe. The curse was that of horrid confusion, and it was cast by a powerful chief. I then decided to play along, and muttered, "Yeah, that's probably it." He nodded, and ran back to the seventh graders. "Wait!" I yelled, running towards the three of them. "Keep this secret alright?" I said in a demanding tone. The seventh graders nodded, and George was a bit hesitant. "Shouldn't we tell Bob and Martin?" he asked me. "In time," I said, "We shouldn't just rush into the things." By then the seventh graders were gone, in the building since school was starting. I sat in homeroom, bored as hell, since I didn't want to switch anyone in such mixed company. I wanted to keep the secret secret, so I did my math homework, even though I had it last period. We had an assembly that morning on Internet safety, so in a few minutes seemed like a good time to do it. When we were dismissed from our homerooms to go down to the auditorium, I bolted out of my seat to catch up with Bob, Martin and George. We met on the stairs, and they were all talking about "Family Guy". "Yeah, man that was awesome," Martin was saying as I neared them. "Hey, Sam, are you going to Nate's party on Friday? It's supposed to kick ass," Bob said, raising his eyebrows. "Okay," I muttered. We sat in the auditorium, I in the center, as the lights finally began to dim. An old man walked up to the microphone, and instead of tapping on it, smacked it with all his might. The entire crowd of kids went silent. We all leaned back in our seats as the assembly began. I wasn't paying attention; however, I was scouting for my next two victims. "There we go," I said. In front of me was a boy in my English class and a girl I only see once and a while. They were making out ahead of their time. The girl was on the short side, but attractive in the eyes of an eighth grader. She had blonde hair with brown highlights, with red manicured nails and a cute face. Her breasts were up and coming and her figure was beginning to shape out. She had a tan from head to toe, and she was wearing a tight blue tank top with a short white skirt. The boy was on the tall side, and extremely muscular. Hair was growing out of his chin, and he was really a fair-skinned Latino. He was wearing extremely baggy jeans with a soggy-looking shirt. He had a face that, no matter what expression, said, "Come on, let's get behind the dumpster." I focused as hard as I could, and squinted until my eyes were nearly shut. The word "cook-top" was screaming in my head while my brain felt like crashing. Finally, the two of them switched. The microphone buzzed, and the lights turned on for just a second, as the two souls jumped out and in. They were dazed for a couple of minutes, but then it hit them. The girl in the boy's body's eyes grew wide, and she began to choke for air. Grabbing whatever she could, the wide eyed lass/lad tried to keep herself from swooning over, but it was no use. She passed out on to the floor, most people not even noticing. The boy next to the former girl thought he felt something hit his foot, but he ignored it and continued to surf through his Ipod. The boy in the girl's body was also quite surprised. He at first didn't know what was going on, and had a massive migraine. He grabbed for his head, and automatically felt the long locks of curled hair. He followed the strands down all the way to the breasts, and groped the chest which they laid on. He slowly began to realize what was going on, as he cupped the strange yet familiar things. He ran his hand down the flat belly, until it reached the skirt. He gasped, sliding is hand in. When it reached the slight bulge instead of his equipment, he passed out. It was then when everyone noticed them. All the kids in that row shot out of their seats in sudden fear, thinking they were next to pass out. The principal ran over to the seen, almost tripping on himself. He reached the scene, and gave the guy on stage a thumbs up. The guy kept on talking, but it was no use. Everyone was staring at Megan Clancy and Zach Ipson. I laughed as evilly as I could, even though it sounded quite pathetic. I stood up with the rest of my row to stare at the scene. George pulled me over to the side and whispered in my ear, "I think they switched." "No they didn't," I lied, trying to look as innocent as possible. "The way they both groped themselves and were staring at each other, it was the same with those seventh graders!" I turned around, and looked at the two of them being carried off. "Maybe you're right," I said, knowing there was no denying George could tell. "Maybe we should go to the nurse and try to explain my theory to them," he said. "Yeah, sure, and how the hell are we supposed to do that?" I asked him. "Just follow my lead," he whispered, "I know what to do." "You watch too many spy movies man," I said, shaking my head. We ran down the stairs on the side of the stadium seating trying to try and get to the doors. George busted them open, shooting light all through out the room. "Shit!" I said, running down the halls as everyone tried to see us. "Damnit, George, this is retarded!" I yelled, trying to catch up with him. "We might be able to help them!" he yelled, taking a left and running towards the nurse's office. Two large men were carrying the couple in. "Hold on a second!" I yelled grabbing his collar. He barely understood why I stopped him, but after a minute he began to realize the repercussions of just busting in there. "So what are we going to do?" he asked me, really wanting to get in there to help these two. "We wait until the muscle brothers come out, and then we sneak in," I explained, "they're behind closed curtains, and the nurse will eventually leave them alone to get something. We take those two and drag them to somewhere soundproof, like the band room." "But the band room has to be forty yards away!" George said. "So we drag them." The two men came out after a while, and walked towards the lobby. "Alright, now we can go," I said. We both ran down the hallway and opened the door slowly. I stuck my head in to check if the nurse was looking, and saw her sitting at her desk on the phone. We both ducked so that she couldn't see us from her little platform. Crawling on our stomachs, we made it over to the closed curtain. I went under first, and looked at my two victims. Grabbing the real girl, I slowly pulled her across the floor, and through the curtain. When I came out, I nodded to George, and he said, "Figures you'd grab the guy." I pointed to the desk, and shushed him quite abruptly. We dragged them across the floor, both of us praying for time, until we got to the door. "Here we go," I muttered, opening the door a crack. We slid through the opening, and ended up running down the hall, our arms lagging behind us. "Come on!" I yelled, taking a left. George was right behind me, trying to keep the girl on her back, and looking down "her" skirt. I busted open the door to the small music hall, and grabbed the handle on one of the practice rooms. I took them both and threw them in, George looking around to see if anyone was watching. "Should we wake them up?" George asked me, tapping the real girl on the head. "No," I said. But it was too late; they both were beginning to stir. "Damnit!" I said, as they awoke. George slammed the door, just in time for the boy in the girl's body to let out a, "What the fuck is going on?" Megan jumped up, now a lot taller, and tried to run for the door. Zach slid to the corner, her skirt trailing up her legs. We stared at this scene in shock, as Megan started to fall over again, looking down at herself and feeling her shaggy face. Zach was huddled in the corner, eyes looking down the skirt and on to her new genitals. George made a grab for Megan, ready to run out the door, but he ended up being punched in the face. "Jesus Christ!" he yelled, grabbing his nose. I leaped over a chair and grabbed him, pulling the new boy to the ground. "Let go of me, you fucking dickhead!" he screamed. George fell back on to the ground, holding his nose as blood trickled from it slowly. He was right next to Zach, now rubbing her chest. She seemed to be crying. "Oh shit," he said, moving up next to her. She looked at him, and to George's surprise, in the midst of her tears, there was a smile, which proved to be quite anti-climactic in this whole situation. "Why do you look happy?" he asked him, shocked. "Because," she said, "My whole life, I was alright with being a boy. But if I could choose again, I'd choose to be a girl. I can't explain it, but I liked how they moved, talked, thought. It's like how sometimes a really tomboy-ish girl wants to be a boy." She wiped the tears off of her face, and smiled a beautiful smile. She looked down at herself, and cupped her breasts. "What about Megan?" I asked her. "I don't know, maybe this is just temporary, but, for now, I'm enjoying it." She then hugged George, which both freaked out and aroused him. "But if I do switch back," she said, "Don't tell anyone what I said." I, on the other hand, probably wouldn't be able to be aroused for another year. I had just been kneed in the nuts so hard my eyes popped out of their sockets. "Oh my god!" I squeaked out, "Holy crap!" "What the hell is going on?" Megan demanded, kicking me in the chest. I stumbled back and fell down into a stack of chairs. George got up from his conversation and grabbed a chair. He quickly flung it at Megan's head, sending her toppling onto the ground. "Oh man," I said, "that was wicked awesome." I high-fived him, and looked down at the unconscious body. "What do we do now?" Zach asked us, now standing. "One second," George said, pulling me off to the side. He explained to me about how Zach wanted to stay as Megan forever, or at least for a long time, and how he didn't know what to do with the real Megan. "I've got an idea," Zach said from behind us. She walked between us, hands still holding on to her breasts, smiling. "You know, you'll have to let go of those sooner or later," I said. She ignored me. "We could hypnotize him, while he's asleep. I saw it on the internet. All we need to do is perform the procedure, and poof, Megan will think he'd always been Zach." "What do we have to do?" I asked her. Megan, as we now officially called her, was the one who actually went out to get the materials. All we needed from outside was some cold water and the hypnotizing wheel from the arts and crafts room down the hall. She came back, and closed the door. She told George to get to eye level with Zach, as we now called him. "Okay, perky," he said, squeezing on Megan's petite rump. She giggled, not seeming offended in the least bit. I rolled my eyes, grabbing the small vial of water. George tried to clear his mind, and practiced reciting the ancient Native American words to put Zach in the trance. Soon, the whole procedure was going pretty smoothly. George was reciting the words, "Ootah, Juyco, Be-sa, ha-ho," and other assorted gibberish. I controlled the lighting, switching the room from dim to very bright with the old fashioned slide light switch. Megan stood over her former self and dripped water over his head. She also recited the brainwashing command: "You have always been Zachary William Ipson. You have all of his memories, interests, and attitudes. You are also to break up with your girlfriend Megan Clancy, at exactly 10:22 AM today." The light I was switching turned off, and we all inhaled suddenly. It turned back on, and I looked around. Zach was still asleep, and Megan was jumping up and down, giggling in joy. Her hair was bouncing up and down, and so was everything else that was attached to her. She slid her hand up her skirt and let out a, "Kick-ass!" "She's very ladylike," I said, looking at George. His attention was focused on Megan, a smile on his face. After another minute, I said, "Listen, perky, we're going to have to leave, I'd say wait here and let him break up with you. You should be able to come up with a believable excuse for being here, I mean, you have the same minds." She nodded, and looked at George. George started walking towards her. "No way," I gasped, as they both hugged. It wasn't a friendly embrace, but more like a dry-hump. They started whispering in each other's ears, and George nodded. He walked away whistling, not acknowledging my presence. I was going to bring what had just happened up, but decided to tread away from that. Three minutes later, we were back in class. We were able to slip in unnoticed, and the teacher didn't catch us coming in late. I was glad he was such a dumb ass and couldn't see in front of himself with those giant glasses. The class we were sitting in actually was the longest one of the day, lasting over an hour. It was only broken into twenty minutes. We'd missed gym while in the band room. "Now, listen kids," the teacher said, "I have something coming up, and so I got a sub for the rest of the class. She'll be here any second, and she'll be leaving a note for me, so don't try anything." You could hear the disappointed exhaling throughout the classroom. He walked out, briefcase in hand, and almost at once everyone surged out of their seats. But before anyone could say anything, Ms. Rodriguez walked in. Ms. Rodriguez was a tall, tan woman of Latino descent. Her brown hair reached down to her butt, a good J-Lo shaped thing. She had a white dress on, laced around the back, and had five inch heels. Her face and whole top half resembled Eva Longoria, the only chick from "Desperate Housewives" the boys knew of. "Holy shit," I heard people whisper. I was one of them. Licking her lips, she sat down at the desk and tried to silence the students. Even though her entrance had quieted everyone, as soon as she sat, everyone talked again. "Damnit," I muttered. I hated it when hot teachers got mad. They got in your face and crap, and I couldn't stand that. She even seemed overwhelmed. You could see in her eyes a migraine, since she had just come from the "special" classroom where she usually worked to teach mentally handicap children. Our 1B class was no better. I was going to say something to Martin, who sat next to me, but he was fast asleep. That little bastard only complained about the grade he was getting in English, and he was asleep. "I bet that's what Ms. Rodriguez wants," I muttered. That gave me an idea. Martin was known to be very brave. If someone punched him in the mouth, he'd go right ahead and eat his Captain Crunch even if his gums are bleeding and give no sign of distress. I knew that if he ended up in this woman's body, he'd probably be freaked out, but would quickly take control. I needed to get him switched at this window of opportunity, as Ms. Rodriguez sat there rubbing her temple and Martin was fast asleep. Keeping both of them within sight, I muttered, as quiet as possible, "Take Sarah Rodriguez's soul, and place it in Martin Underwood's body, and take Martin Underwood's soul and place it in Sarah Rodriguez's body. COOKTOP!" The desks shook ever so gently, and people's papers rustled ever so softly, as they switched bodies. Sarah, now in Martin's body, simply smiled and continued to doze in the middle of class. The misplaced Martin looked scared as a duck being shot at. He did the expected, feeling himself around, and looking down his shirt. His lip quivered, and for a second I wanted to switch them back, but then he just smiled and pretended to rustle through paper. "That brave little toaster," I muttered, shaking my head. She stood up, and tried to walk around in high heels, stumbling left and right. Grabbing the papers in hand, Sarah walked back and forth; giving them to kids she'd known for so long. Finally, she made it to the back of the class. In the corner she started talking to herself. And I was right there, ears wide open. "Okay," she said, "how the fuck did I just turn into a chick? Shit like this doesn't just happen!" She grabbed her breasts, much larger then Megan's, and rubbed them. "Holy crap, I thought looking at DD's was cool!" he said, eyes wide. The class slowly began to quiet down, as talking seemed to begin to bore them. They all looked towards Sarah, and she just looked back. "I'll just be right back," she said, "I'm going to tell the teacher in the next class over to listen for noise." She didn't do that, though. As the other kids looked away, I sneaked behind her. "What're yah gonna do, Martin?" I squeaked. She first went into the ladies room, busting open the door. "Shit," I said. Inching my way towards the bathroom, I peered inside. There seemed to be only one person there, and that was Sarah. I crawled in as quiet as possible, and sneaked my way underneath one of the stalls. Grabbing the sides of it, I climbed on to the toilet, just enough to see over. Sarah reached around herself and first grabbed her butt. "Oh man," she said, "that's fucking awesome." She then grabbed at her giant jugs, and smiled. "I wonder," she said, reaching around and unlacing the dress. It fell to her hips, leaving the whole top half of her body exposed. She yanked the bra off, and dropped it to the ground. Her breasts then hung free on her chest, and Sarah smiled. "Wouldn't mind spending the weekend in this body," she said. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. A twenty eight year old woman, who was just a thirteen year old boy, was prancing around the bathroom half naked. She tugged on her hair, and laughed as it tickled the small of her back. In front of the mirror, she jiggled her breasts up and down numerous times, rubbing around the large brown areole. "Fuckin A!" she yelped, grabbing her empty crotch. She tried to strike a pose, lips curled in a tease-like smile, eyes dipped down and hair striping half of her face. She put her hands on her hips and wriggled her eyebrows. Sarah then darted into the stall, to my utter surprise. "Uh-oh," I whispered, getting down. At first all I heard was the gentle sound of fabric sliding down bare legs. I then heard fingers reach through small hairs. Then, all I could hear was moaning and groaning. My eyes went wide, trying to consider the fact that one of my best friends is getting off as a woman. The moans got louder and louder, until she kicked the stall wide open, and let out a huge exhale. At first, there was only silence. Then, the pitter patter of high heels walking across the tiles filled the bathroom. I once again stood on the toilet to see her every move, and almost laughed as Sarah tried to get the bra on. "It's fucking Velcro," I muttered. She stopped for a second, and looked around to see if anyone was there, and continued on. She then attempted to put her dress back on, since she was now in shoes, bra and panties. I stood there for another five minutes, as Sarah wrestled with the laces. Finally, after a few moments of cursing, she got it back together, and ran out of the bathroom. I quickly followed her, cautious to not be seen by anyone emerging from the girl's room. Back in class, I quickly realized that we'd been gone for a long time. Class was almost over. By now, the kids were all over the place doing absolutely nothing. Sarah sat down at the desk and opened up the lesson plan, and read a single word aloud, "Improvise." She laughed a little, watching the kids move about. She wrote down, "They were very good, and we watched a History Channel special on literature." She figured that that was good enough. Suddenly, I realized that Martin wouldn't be asleep any more. "Oh crap," I said. But before I could act, Bob came over and asked me, "Has Martin been smoking anything lately? He's been acting a little freaked out." Before he could say anything else, I ran over to where the rest of the band was, and saw the former twenty-something hottie talking to George about the flaws of the X Box 360. "The graphics kick ass, it's just that certain games are kind of bad on it," George was saying as I went over to them. "Hey, Martin, you woke up," I said, showing a fake smile. "Yeah," Martin said, shaking, "But I kind of liked it before I fell asleep." "He's been like this since he woke up, you should have seen him then," George said, "He was out of his mind." I nodded, and looked over at Sarah. She was leaning back in her chair, feet on the desk, listening to music. I walked over to the other corner of the room, and looked over at the clock. Class was almost over, and switching them back seemed appropriate. I went through the same thought procedure, and quickly their faces changed. Sarah's went from a happy, head banging free-spirited smile to a sudden look of relief. Martin's expression went from nervous fear to a slight disappointment. He got over it within seconds, though. I decided to walk over to the three of them, and looked at Martin. "Have any dreams?" I asked, in a somewhat playful voice. "Shut up, man, I'm tired," he said. I just nodded, laughing on the inside. I looked back over at Sarah, and she seemed to be ignoring the class. Laughing, I noted class was almost over. For the next day I switched nobody. I had decided to keep it cool, and not to create a mass pandemic sort of thing. But, my sense of curiosity got the best of me in last period on Tuesday. There was a boy in our class who had absolutely no friends. Most of us felt sorry for him, but we never really introduced ourselves or helped him. He was always in the back of the class, drawing pictures of the backs of heads. His lonely life wasn't the worst part. He was one of the poorest kids in the school. He got his clothes from other pitiful families, and wore them no matter how torn or stained. Most of us were really nice to him, since he was always on the brink of crying. He kept it all in, though. I caught him, one day in seventh grade, sticking a lit match between his fingers and squeezing as hard as he could. I was surprised, and ran over to him. It was then when I learned how crappy his life was. His father had been extremely sick since he was one, and his mother was lazy and couldn't give a shit about money. She did make them go to church every week, however. I'd always thought a life like that would drive someone to hard drugs, but the boy, John Saxon, has gone no further then the horror of self inflicted wounds. He even said that, despite his family's horrid status, he still loved them, which proved how kind he really was. Even though I knew it would be kind of mean, I asked him, "If you could get a brand new life, as a whole other person, with a different family, would you?" He glared at me for a second, but replied with a solemn yes. The girl who sat in front of him was the exact opposite. She was five foot six, with curly red hair and the legs of an angel. She had small C cup breasts, sparkling green eyes and a perfect complexion. Her name was Linda Walsh, the most popular girl in the school. Every single boy, no matter how much they denied it, would give their souls for a make-out session with her. She had this giggle, so hootchey-cootchey it would drive every male in the class insane. She was only fifteen, but she looked like a college chick. Now, you would think this girl was nice. She might be hot, but she's not the stereotypical blonde princess. She wasn't a princess; she was a teenage version of Satan. I mean, she didn't burn or kill people, but she was a bitch. She lived within a perfect circle of popular friends, all unaware of the world around them. They could go in and out of the class without a pass whenever they want. Cutting in the lunch line for then was like cutting paper. The teachers were afraid of them, and let them do whatever they wanted almost all of the time. Linda wasn't the richest of them all. That was Johnny Ashburn. She was quite wealthy, however. She lived in a seaside 3100 square foot home with a courtyard and two pools. She wore the finest of clothes, with hundred dollar shoes and a tattoo of an apple on her ankle. She owned one pair of extremely tight jeans, showing every crease she had on her entire lower body. The rest of her bottom clothes were all skimpy skirts. They were custom made in Finland. The worst part, however, was the fact that she always put down poor John. I saw them, sitting there, paying absolutely no attention. She turned around, and spat in his face, saying, "Quit fucking breathing so loud, scum." He was about to say something back, when she continued, "Don't even think about talking back, I'll have Bill come and kill you." This wasn't the worst he had gotten from her, believe me. Class had ended, and I knew what I had to do. I walked over to John, and grabbed his shoulder. "What is it, Sam?" he said, looking towards the door. "I need to talk to you," I said, looking around. "I have to go, can it wait until tomorrow," John muttered, starting to walk away. "Dude, if you can't talk to me now, at least call me tonight! I'm in the book!" "Okay, I'll look!" he said, rolling his eyes and walking out the door. I tried to catch up with him, but the volume of the hallway was too much for me, and I just ended up going out the door. "Damnit," I said, really wanting to help this kid out. I started walking, towards the sun, thinking about the two days I'd just had. I had just changed a life forever, turning a boy I barely knew into a pretty girl, not even knowing he'd like it. I also gave Martin and Ms. Rodriguez the craziest forty minutes of their lives. I didn't know if I was a hero or a villain. I got home at about three, and checked the fridge for any leftovers. There were none, it being only Tuesday, so I went upstairs to get immersed in a random CD. "Here we are," I said, picking up "Dark Side of the Moon". My mom poked her head in the door, and said, "Hi Sam how was your day?" "Fine," I stated, giving her the standard answer. All of a sudden, just before "Breathe" was to start, the phone rang. I picked it up, since it was right near me, and put it on pause. "Hello?" I said. "Hey, man, it's John." "Dude, you called?" "Yeah." I wanted to tell him about my plan, but had to lean into it. "Do you hate Linda?" I asked him. "I don't want to hate anyone, but if I were to choose someone I'd hate, I'd choose her," he said. "You told me, last year, if you could trade in your life for another's you would, right? And do you want to get revenge on Linda?" There was a pause on the other line. "I guess it would be yes for both of those questions, but how in the hell would that work, I mean, what would we do, switch bodies?" I was pretty glad I didn't have to introduce that subject myself. "Yes," I simply stated. "And how would we manage to do that?" John said, beginning to sound irritated. "The school has an Indian curse on it, where people inadvertently switch bodies. Now, I've figured out a place where, as soon as you step in the circle, it will happen." Once again, there was a pause on the other line. "You're fucking joking," he said quite bluntly. "No, I swear to you, this is real." "This is a prank, I'm hanging up," he said. "ASK MEGAN CLANCY!" I almost yelled. "Who?" he said. "The blonde chick in your social studies class," I muttered, "She used to be Zach Ipson this morning. I swear to you, this is not a prank." "If this is," John said, "I swear I will kick your teeth out." After persuading him for another five minutes, he finally said, "Fine, I'll switch bodies with Linda Walsh, but how the hell will we keep her from killing everyone?" "I've got that under control," I said, thinking about how Megan knew that hypnosis thing. The next day we met in the back of the school. "So can you go over the plan again," John said, a bit confused. "Alright, so we get her into the circle, where you'll be waiting. You two will switch, and I'll get Megan Clancy. We'd knock out your former self, and perform the hypnosis on him. Now, you said you want her to see life through your eyes, so we technically can't make her think she'd always been you, so we'll make her do and say everything you'd do, but keep her mind. You know, so she'll feel an eerie comfort as well as the horror of being a dude." John grinned a little, rubbing his hands together. I ran down the hallway, up the stairs, and into my homeroom, where Linda was standing in the center of a circle of other girls. I fought my way into the circle, and faced the Irish beauty. "What the fuck do you want?" she said clenching her face. "Johnny wants to talk to you," I lied, "It's something important." "Why'd he send you?" she sneered. "They were talking right next to my locker, and it was convenient asking me, he wants you in the band room," I said. She pushed by everyone, and walked out the door. The girls resumed talking, and I ran after Linda. I had to beat her to the room, so I took the elevator down to the first floor. I bolted over to the music hall, whipped open the door and ran in. Hiding behind a couple of tubas, I waited until Linda arrived. About a minute later, she walked in; with a skirt so skimpy I could almost see her panty line. "Welcome to your new life," I muttered, "a life of no rules, and no limits." She busted into the room. It only took half a second for her to say, "This has to be a fucking joke!" I jumped up and ran over to the room, peering inside the door. She wasn't quite in the chalk circle John drew, but I figured it was close enough. I focused on them both and almost said the word, "Cook top." The slight disturbance in the air happened again, and they were switched. Linda's body stood absolutely still, obviously in complete shock, eyes darting left and right. John's body, with Linda's soul, was a lot less still. He started grabbing at himself, first in the chest, and then down around the crotch. He had to pull on his new Doctor Who several times before he realized what had happened. Grabbing the curly mess of black hair John had once had, he let out a whimper before passing out. His head landed smack against the chairs, and you could hear the skull hit the ground. Linda's body, with John's soul, began to quiver when the new John passed out. She raised her white, manicured nails up to her face, and touched her long, smooth fingers against her cheek. "Jesus," Linda said. She reached down her shirt, and grabbed at her breasts. Closing her eyes, she said, "I can't believe this." Reaching down, she slid her hand up her skirt, and grasped the bareness which lay down there. After a minute, I let out an, "Are you okay?" "I don't know," Linda said, a tear racing down her cheek, "I'm split down the middle." She gave her long red mane a yank, and shook. "You said, you could make the real Linda feel kind of comfortable, right?" she asked me. "No, but I can get someone, her name is Megan." "Can you make me feel a little more comfortable in this body, since it's kind of creepy?" "You want me to do that?" I asked him, knowing it would be a positive thing to do. "Yeah," she whimpered. I stood there for the longest time, wondering what he was going through. "I can't believe I volunteered to permanently become a girl, I'm such a dumb shit," Linda said, crying. Did she say permanently? I thought I had told her this was only temporary. 'I can't tell her that now,' I thought, 'she'd shoot me!' "I guess I'll go get Megan," I said, walking off. It was ten o'clock in the morning! I had missed three classes, but I called in sick earlier to let them know. I hoped John had done that too. Running upstairs, I dodged all the teachers I could. I knew Megan would be in Spanish right now, on the second floor. Tripping up the stairs, I hid behind lockers until the bell rang. After five minutes of just standing there, the bell rang and the students all almost ran out of the classroom. I ran, looking for Megan Clancy. "Where the hell is she?" I muttered to myself, and then I saw it. She was standing at the bubbler talking to her newly acquired friend Jessica. She had a boy's arm around her neck, and that boy's name was George. "Dude, you've got to be shitting me," I muttered, running up behind them. "Alright Megan, I guess I'll see you at the party when I come back," Jessica said, talking about how she'd be spending two and a half days on Martha's Vineyard. "And I guess I'll be seeing you tonight," Megan said, giving George a peck on the cheek. She walked off, in an almost skipping motion. "Holy crap," I said to George, walking up behind him, "where did that come from?" "She likes being a girl, I guess." "I can't believe she already had a boyfriend, she's been a chick for two days!" I said, looking at her, and remembering the mission at hand. "Damnit," I muttered. I ran after her, and grabbed her gold locks. I gave them a hard yank, and she whipped her head around angrily. Seeing it was me, she just grinned and shook her head. "And what would the boy like to ask me?" she playfully said. "You really like being a princess, dude," I muttered. "I am no longer a dude, hence the skirt and bra, I'm now what you would call, in your realm, a chick." "Well, Miss Clancy, I need you to hypnotize a couple of switched people." She followed me downstairs, asking what was going on. "All I know is that kid we all don't like, John, and that bitch Linda just switched bodies. John wants to stay as Linda, and wants Linda to be stuck as him, I don't blame him, but he wants to feel a little more comfortable, and he doesn't want Linda to give them away." "I also don't blame him," Megan said, peeking down her shirt. "Is that all you've been doing?" I asked her. "No, I taught myself how to strip and have been touching myself all day since Monday." "That's ladylike," I muttered again. We made it to the band room, and I opened the door. Both John and Linda were now asleep, curled up on either side of the room. "That's convenient," Megan said, going to the bubbler to get water. She came back with a cup of it and asked me, "Should I put my hair in braids, I thought that would be cool." I just shrugged, and laughed on the inside. If he was a guy, I'd be leaning towards beating the crap out of him. I got down to eye level, this time, and Megan manned both the lights and commands. Reading from the words Megan had kept as a keepsake on the back of a math paper, we began with the new Linda. I held the arts and crafts pinwheel in my right hand. "You have been John Saxon for fourteen years, but you have become Linda Walsh. You will feel normal in her body, but know who you once were, and retain that mental status." The light flickered off, and then back on. After ten seconds of stand still silence, Megan wondered aloud, "Something's been bothering me. On the internet, it said, in order for this relatively easy hypnotic command hex to work, there has to be a very powerful presents in the room, but it's only you and me." "Maybe it's the Indian curse," I lied, almost laughing. The new Linda began to stir, and felt her head. "Hey, Linda," I said, "Are you okay?" "Yeah," she muttered, "I feel better." She looked down at herself and smiled. "I feel a lot better." "We better move on to the bitch," Megan said, trying to rest the cup on her bulging chest. "For the love of God, Megan, how long are you going to-," I started, but then saw Linda was getting into the same thing, with a drumstick. "It's fun isn't it?" Megan said. "Hell yeah," Linda smiled. Five minutes later we were about to do John. We now had three people, so I went over to man the lights again. I watched the two girls carry out the hypnotic procedure, and I felt a sudden swelling in my brain. It seemed familiar, like it had happened before. Then, suddenly, I realized it. I had felt this when we were doing this thing the other two times, and the spell was taking advantage of my power. For curiosity, I attempted switching Linda and Megan, knowing they wouldn't care, but I couldn't. The spell was taking advantage of my gift. The light flickered out again, and I realized the ordeal was over. All three of us exhaled. "What now?" Linda said. "Well," Megan muttered, "I skipped gym, your old self called in sick, and so did Mr. Man, and you have power over all of the teachers." "What do you mean?" she asked. "You're one of the most popular and pretty girls in the school, you can do virtually what you want as long as you skipped a male teacher's class," Megan explained, a little jealous. We all got up, and began to walk towards the door. "Aren't you gonna hold the door for us girls?" Megan quipped, batting her eyes. "I hope you're handy with a baton, because the majorette open is coming," I said, with an evil laugh. I ran out the back door of the school as soon as we left, John being dragged along the road. He was a little heavier then I had expected, and his shirt almost ripped several times while getting him over the sidewalk. His neck probably scraped as well, but he would need that to get off being a princess. I brought him to his street, located behind the school, and propped him up on a sign. I stomped on his knee, and he awoke with a start. "Oh my god!" he shrieked, grabbing his leg. "Wake up, dumbass!" I said. "Where am I?" he asked me, cowering in fear. "You're on your street, so get going, your house is the green one!" With that, I turned and left, leaving the former princess sitting near a stop sign. It was only noon, so I had no idea what to do. I didn't want to get caught out of school, so I decided to go down to the beach. It was only a few blocks from here, and you could already see the sandy gravel when you looked down. I started running towards it, until I began to grow tired and gasping for breath, and rested for a second. I was pretty damn hungry! "Just raid a picnic basket," I muttered, noting the sandy dunes near the beach houses. The sand was hot as hell, but I couldn't feel it since I had my sneakers on. I tore my shirt off and threw it between a couple of rocks, diving into the cool water. "Oh man," I said, floating on the waves, "I would be in math right now." The water was so calm it was eerie that day, but I could barely take note of that. I did, however, take note of four people playing football in the waters a few dozen yards from me. Two guys and two girls, most likely boyfriends and girlfriends, were hurling the ball at each other, having a good time. I figured, maybe I'd screw with them. Focusing on all four of them, I thought about shifting there bodies all to the right. Cooktop. They all screamed running back to shore. Slowly, I crept along with them, keeping my distance. One guy and one girl were basically just surprised, but they happened to retain their gender and basic height and weight. But two, the tall and somewhat flat brunette and the bulky Portuguese man were flipping out. The woman was grabbing her chest, even though they were A's, and cupping her crotch, disturbed by the lack of taken space. The man was doing virtually the same thing, but seemed to not mind the muscle at all. The other man was deep in thought, pondering over what had just happened and not being as disturbed as the others. The other woman, however, might have been happy. She was now a foxy black girl, who was well endowed instead of the plain brunette. I decided to screw with them some more, and shifted them all to the right again. Now, different people were beginning to act up since they were all in different positions. The man who had just been switched with his bud was now the foxy lady, and the plain Jane was herself again. She seemed a bit relieved. The man who had just been her was now the other guy. The foxy lady was of course, switched with the man in her body. I decided to switch them all into different genders, so I switched the plain Jane and the guy who'd just been her again. They were now all in the wrong bodies, and of the wrong gender. They all began to run around and freak out, and I almost decided to switch them back, but I forgot who had been who (as you probably did). "Oh shit," I muttered, realizing they might end up stuck. I didn't want to take too much of a chance, but I sure as hell didn't want to go out on a limb. I also knew I couldn't get Megan out here. I realized how I had just changed these four lives. "Wait a second," I said aloud, "If they are in the wrong gender, then he must, wait, and then she must go in him, and wait, hold on a second, wait." I was so confused, and could feel a headache coming on. "Maybe I should try and trick them," I muttered. I came up with a pretty lame plan, but I figured it would work. Grabbing sun glasses and a straw hat to disguise me from a picnic table, I walked over to the four of them. "What am I going to do?" the black girl said, rubbing her flat stomach and pulling her long hair. "You're lucky you're hot," the normal-looking woman said, looking down at her nothing special body. "Hey, fuck you!" the former resident of that body said. "Silence!" I said in a deep voice, moving my arm in a clockwise motion. "Who are you?" the muscular man asked, and the hippy-like guy nodded. "I am the spirit of the beach, and I have done this for a reason." "You mean you did this you little mother-," the foxy girl started, rearing a fist. "I said silence! Now, I'm going to point at one of you, and you are to say your former name, and then your current name." First, I pointed at the hippy guy, and he looked down at his feet. "Kayla, and now I am Victor," he mumbled. I then pointed at the foxy lady. "Calvin, and now I am Brianna." I pointed at the muscular man. "Brianna, now I'm Calvin." I pointed at the plain Jane, and she said, "I was Victor, now I'm Kayla." I tried to think of whether or not I switched the right people, but every time I thought I got a different answer. Deciding to turn this into an interesting game (at least for me), I said, "You will stay like this for one day, and report back here tomorrow at exactly