The Bar Exam free porn video

1. ONE "Open it," Sonja Jacobs said pointing to the envelope in her co-workers hand. "I know you passed; you have to have passed!" Steve Alain smiled at his co-worker's enthusiasm, wishing he shared it. Sonja was almost 15 years older than Steve but treated him like an equal, even though he was a lowly legal intern and she was a junior partner at the law firm of Fleischman and Baxter. Steve had worked there for four years, the entirety of his time in law school plus a year after graduation. The staff mostly loved him and admired his skill and knowledge and assured him a spot at the firm, but there was one remaining obstacle: The Bar Exam. The results of his most recent attempt were in a sealed envelope in his right hand--Steve too scared to open it. This was the second time he'd received such an envelope, having taken the bar the previous year after graduation, and failing miserable. It wasn't that he didn't know the material, he just wasn't a good test taker. Though he was brilliant and a hard worker, he struggled with standardized tests. He had gotten a 25 on his ACT and a 160 on his LSAT, and those were after multiple attempts. The bar exam made those two tests look like Candy Land. It was a grueling two-day ordeal. The first day was 15 essay questions which Steve always over thought and rambled on, writing too much of the wrong stuff. When that was done he had a night to realize and dwell on his mistakes, kicking himself all the way to the next day when there awaited a 150 multiple choice test loaded with carefully worded questions and answers requiring precise knowledge and quick thinking. Knowing he would need to score exceedingly high, Steve over analyzed those as well, not even finishing it the first time he had taken the test. He had finished the second time, but he still wasn't confident. He could have checked his score online a week ago, but wanted to stave off the disappointment. Still he had to do it sometime, and having his friend standing next to him made it seem like as good a time as any. He tossed the paper aside quickly after opening the envelope and sighed. "Failed. Again. Fuck." Sonja patted him on the back and picked up the results. "Yeah, but you did better than last time. That means you're improving. You'll get there eventually." "Yeah but I don't have eventually," Steve told her. "The firm has a limit on how many times they'll let an intern take the bar before they find a new intern. I've only got one more shot after this before my place here is take by some new hotshot." "It'll be taken by them anyway," Sonja encouraged, "because you'll be full time on staff as our new expert attorney in environmental law." "I'd start searching for another one," Steve said trashing the papers. "Nonsense, everyone knows you'd be the best one we could hire," Sonja encouraged. "Besides, even if we did, there might be an opening in corporate law if Fleischman drops a house on Madigan," grinning at that last part. That made Steve smile. Rebecca Madigan was another one of the lawyers at the firm. While she was brilliant and successful, she wasn't what anyone would call a people person. Famous throughout the legal community for her aggressive courtroom demeanor as well as her fierce sense of competition and bristly personality she had quietly earned the nickname "The Wicked Bitch of the North," from some of the other lawyers at the firm. An outspoken conservative, Rebecca often attended public debates and speaking engagements where she argued for her political and social viewpoints, oftentimes making local headlines with controversial statements. "What exactly did she say to that journalist?" Steve asked, glad for the distraction. "I don't know the word for word," Sonja said lowering her voice, "but it had something to do with separation of powers and states rights but that always winds up sounding a bit racist even when it isn't and the quote is all over the internet." "Do you think she'll get fired?" Steve asked. "I'm not sure," Sonja replied. "It'll probably come down to whether or not Fleischman thinks he can win a wrongful termination lawsuit against her weighed against any lawsuits and public backlash we'd get for keeping her on. He's already consulted with me on that last part, what with my expertise." Sonja was a civil rights lawyer, and had earned fame and reputation 3 years ago by winning a landmark case in support of gay marriage. A lesbian herself, Sonja celebrated her win by getting married to her longtime partner the next day at the same courthouse. "And what IS your opinion?" Steve inquired. "I'd fire her instantly, but that's because she's a bit of a homophobe," Sonja stated, "but she makes the firm more money than any other lawyer here, by a large margin. Again, it'll come down to how Fleischman thinks it'll affect the bottom line." "Any amount is a bargain to be rid of her," Steve said with a shudder. "Agreed, but I've got to get going. I have to call Jane and tell her we need to make dinner since we're not taking you out to celebrate," Sonja said referring to her wife "Cheer up, kid. A lot of lawyers take a few tries to pass it." "Were you one of them?" Steve asked. "Oh no, I passed on my first try with flying colors," Sonja said as she left. "But you aren't me." 2. TWO It was July and the bar exam was a little over a week away. The pressure was really getting to Steve and beginning to affect his job performance. He was sleeping a little over two hours a night and compensated by drinking at least four energy drinks a day. This made him sweaty, jumpy, and irritable. When he wasn't being short with his co-worker, he was making minor mistakes that any novice intern would catch on their first day. "You need to relax," Sonja told him. "If you keep going like this you'll have a nervous breakdown and not even be able to take the exam." "Don't you realize how important this is to me?" Steve almost snapped back, "Do you know what the job market is like out there for J.D.s who HAVE passed the bar exam? If I don't pass it and land this job, I'll be working at Starbucks selling lattes until I can eke out a passing grade and become a 30 year old public defender. My future is at stake next week." Sonja gave consoling words but Steve could tell she knew he was right. This was not a good economy for people who were going to be in that situation and she didn't want her friend to have a rough start to what could have otherwise been a brilliant career. "I THINK I may be able to help you." "You're going to bribe the examiners?" Steve joked. "No promises," Sonja said as she walked back to her office, emerging a few minutes later with a file before heading into the office of the firm's chief partner, Irving Fleischman. Steve went back to work for about an hour or so before a file folder was placed on his keyboard with a stern voice behind him saying "Fix this." Steve looked up and saw the stone face of Rebecca Madigan scowling at him. "It's bush league," she said, picking up the file and opening it in front of Steve. "You put our clients down as the plaintiffs, and not the defendants and you wrote the date as 2213. So unless you've mastered predicting the future and know that in a hundred years pharmaceutical companies will be suing old ladies, you need to re-do it." "I'll get right on it," Steve said, taking the folder and wishing she had been fired. In the end all Fleischman had made her do was issue a public apology do some pro bono work. It was a slap on the wrist but the entire office could tell she was on thin ice, and was slightly less afraid of her for that. "Shouldn't you be getting your sheet ironed?" he said coldly. "Just do the fucking brief," she snapped. "For as long as you've been here you think you'd be able to do simple shit like this. If you're gonna crack like this under pressure maybe it's a good thing you don't pass the bar. This isn't exactly a low stress occupation." Steve opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out. That last remark had cut deep. She was right. Practicing law was a pressure packed business. If he started wigging out over the exam, what would he do if he had a big case? Finishing Rebecca's brief took the better part of the day and at five o'clock Steve was packing up his things for another long night of cramming when Sue, the receptionist, told him that Mr. Fleischman wanted to see him in his office. "Shit," Steve muttered. Rebecca had told him what Steve had said early. Now it didn't matter if he passed next week or not, he'd be fired anyway. He'd have to brush up on his latte making or his sandwich artistry. Steve had only been in Irv Frenchman's office only once before, on the day he was hired on the spot after his second interview. He and the old lawyer had gotten off track and talked for an hour about legal theory. Fleischman had been so impressed with Steve's legal mind he hired him right then telling him he was on the fast track for a position once he graduated. The office was dark due to it's thick brown drapes that matched the hardwood paneling on the walls. There were shelves lined with books and a large wooden desk. Behind that desk sitting in a chair that cost more than Steve's first car was the firm's senior partner. He motioned towards the two chairs in front of him. Sonja was sitting in one of them and he took his sit in the other. "Mr. Fleischman," he began hastily, "I'm very sorry for what I said. I'll apologize to Mrs. Madigan immediately. I've been under tons of stress lately and I just-" Fleischman raised his hand and cut him off. He had to have been at least seventy and while he looked it his mind was still as sharp as it had been when he started practicing law almost 50 years ago. He was well respected in the legal community and his skills had even led to a couple terms in the state legislature. "This has nothing to do with Mrs. Madigan, and knowing her she might have deserved whatever it was you said to her," he began. "But it does have to do with your stress over the bar exam." He walked over and looked out the door to see that everyone had left the office before closing the door and locking it behind him. "Mr. Alain, what were are about to discuss does not leave this room and should you mention it we will disavow any knowledge and terminate you as well as have you blackballed by the State Bar. Do you understand?" Steve nodded and looked over at Sonja, nervous that he was about to hear something awful. "Mr. Alain I interviewed you myself and monitored your work here over the last four years as well as read everything you've written for the law review. You're a rare legal mind and having you on full time will be an amazing asset for us. However I can't just hire you based on that, you will need to pass the test. That's the problem with the way we judge learning these days. Years worth of education and knowledge condensed into a few pressure packed hours; it's ruining our public schools and it could potentially keep you out of the legal field." "I assure you, Mr. Fleischman, I can pass it this time. I've been studying for weeks, non stop," Steve stammered. "I believe you," Fleischman told him, "and I think that might contribute to your failing. It's not that you don't know the material, it's that you put too much pressure on yourself. And I have to fire you if you fail, that's firm policy. As much as I like you, breaking it for you would be unfair to all the other interns, past and future. I wouldn't suggest this if I weren't 100 percent confident in your abilities. If I want to ensure that you pass that test, I'm going to have to have someone else take it for you." Steve gulped. Cheating. This could ruin all their careers if this got out. "Who do you suggest would do it?" "Me," Sonja spoke up softly. Steve chuckled. "I appreciate the offer, Sonja, but they check ID at that test, and you don't exactly look like me." "But I could," she said blankly. Steve's confused look was broken up by Fleischman. "Again, Mr. Alain, whatever is said in this room stays in this room. About 10 years ago we did some patent and confidentiality work for a bio-technology firm. They mostly make artificial joints but back then they developed a machine that was capable of transferring memories and entire neural patterns between two individuals." "It..It swaps their minds?" Steve said trying to wrap his mind around it. "Basically," Fleischman said with a nod. "So when you said that Sonja would be taking the test for me, you meant that you're going to-" "I volunteered," Sonja interjected. "It was all my idea. I was one of the lawyers that worked on their case back then so I knew about the technology. You've been a great friend to me and I don't want your future ruined by a stupid test." "This company, they'll just break out their machine?" Steve asked. "They use it clandestinely, for government and intelligence purposes," Fleischman began. "That's why the whole thing is so secret still. As part of our agreement they allow us to use it when we need to, which is rare but this is not the first time we've done something like this" Steve looked and Sonja. This was crazy. They couldn't make him her. He looked her up and down. At her curly slightly graying brown hair pulled into a loose bun. At her smooth, toned calved coming out of her business skirt. She blushed when she saw what he was doing, smiling a little making her brown eyes sparkle. Could they really put them in there? "How long would it be for?" he asked his boss. "We'd like for it to be a week or so," Fleischman responded, "But these things take time to prepare for. The plan would be for you two to spend the weekend learning each others lives before swapping on Monday morning. Sonja would then spend the week reviewing the material before taking the test again on Saturday and Sunday, with the switch back the following Monday morning." "Why do we have to learn each others lives?" Steve asked. "Because, no one can know about this outside of this room and the company," Sonja told him "Not the people at the firm, not your friends, not even Jane," she said lowering her head referring to having to trick her wife. "It'll be tricky," Fleischman explained, "but a week of erratic behavior can be explained away, as long as it's not TOO erratic. So, what do you say?" Steve took a deep breath. This was the weirdest thing he had ever heard. He had never wanted to be a woman, let alone his older friend. But Sonja was a sure thing. She would nail the bar exam to the wall and he couldn't risk his future by letting a little weirdness get in the way of a sure thing. "Okay. Let's do it." Sonja let out a deep breath. "Meet me at my house tomorrow, seven in the morning," she told him. "Jane has yoga and does errands most of the day. We can begin the crash course then." 3. THREE "Shoe size?" "8" "Blood type?" "O negative" "Date of Birth?" "March 6," Steve said with a smirk. "That was an easy one anyway, but even easier since you asked it before." "That's because it's very important," Sonja told him. "You might have to fill out forms in public or something where you need to know 'your' birthday, and you can't exactly be pulling out your driver's license to check. Most of these are basic knowledge, but some HAVE to be second nature." It was late Sunday afternoon and Steve and Sonja were at her house on the patio finishing up their second straight day of "Sonja-ology," as she put it. "How do I know which is most important?" Steve asked, still nervous about the whole thing. "When you go through, ask yourself 'What would I do if I were Sonja?' and make sure you don't have any glaring holes. Sort of like method acting." "But with less than 24 hours left before the...procedure?" Steve said with a bit of unease Sonja sensed this and reassured him. "It's really not hard to be me," she told him, "I've got a nice house and a job you're pretty much qualified for even though you won't actually have to try. Just don't think of stealing it from me when I pass this test for you." "Could steal Madigan's job though," Steve said with a grin. Rebecca had put her foot in her mouth once again on local public television by making insensitive remarks about transgendered people. The firm's PR was having trouble spinning it and Fleischman was livid with her. "Honestly, I don't think she'll get fired," Sonja said with a sigh. "If her earlier comments didn't do it this won't either. She's too valuable towards the bottom line, so she gets away with this crap." "Are you talking about that awful woman from your work?" A voice called from across the yard. Jane, Sonja's wife had come out of the house and walked over to her and put her arms around her, planting a kiss on her mate's neck." "Yes sweetie," Sonja said reaching up to peck Jane on the lips. "She said that transwomen weren't completely women because of genetics or something. Nothing that most transphobes don't already say." "Can we sue her? Or can you sue on someone's behalf? It's been awhile since you've gone on a crusade and you're so sexy when you do," Jane said cutely. Jane was of an age with her wife but didn't look it. She had curly blonde hair with a few freckles but no wrinkles, and decades of yoga had kept her body in perfect shape and the bikini she was wearing made it clear. "If she gets sued, it won't be by me," Sonja told her. "Conflict of interest and all that." "Lame," Jane said in a mock childish voice. "I'm going for a swim, so don't let me interrupt your exam studying too much longer," a peck on the cheek and she walked towards the pool, shaking her hips seductively for Sonja but causing Steve to stare." "Hey now," Sonja said snapping her fingers. "She's not your wife yet." "I'm sorry," Steve said embarrassed, "that was rude of me." "I don't blame you," Sonja said proudly. "I know it could never happen," Steve said. "I'll be a perfect gentleman when I'm you." "Well..." Sonja began. "They did say not to behave too erratically..." "What do you mean by that?" Steve asked. "Well, I've been thinking about it," Sonja said awkwardly. "We ARE a married couple and *cough* behave as such...and if you suddenly stopped it would cause trouble for us...and it would be my body so it's not cheating...and we have 'shared' before...so you have my permission to..." she trailed off. "Fuck Jane?" Steve whispered leaning in. "Only if she initiates," Sonja whispered back. "And don't tell me about it." "You're not uncomfortable with that?" "I mean, we've explored a bit before, and it made me nervous but she always said she liked me best. And it would be really difficult on you. You think it's hard not staring at her? Try having her spoon you naked for eight hours. You'll lose your mind." Steve looked at the pool and saw Jane swimming laps, oblivious to their conversation "I'm not sure how I feel about it truthfully," he told her "I mean, it should be hot as hell, but it's got this air of responsibility with it." "Just treat her right," Sonja said, dead serious, "in the bedroom and out. If she complains about me being mean I'll punch you in the face. I'm not joking." "No, I'll treat her as if we were in love," Steve responded. "Although I can't even begin to think of how to...do things with her. Being in your body is definitely out of my comfort zone. I might be too nervous and not even know how things work." Sonja was quiet for a moment. "You're right. Follow me," she said before standing up and going into the house. She led Steve in to the guest bathroom and closed the door behind him. "Strip," she said as she began taking her clothes off. "Are we going to have sex?!" Steve asked. "What? No. Ew," Sonja told him, "but you are gonna need to see me naked. It's better to see it now than from this angle. Let you know what you're getting yourself into." Steve stripped and when they were both naked she looked him up and down. "Lean and simple, like a Jeep," she said clinically, totally unaffected by the naked man in front of her. "I guess you have a nice...thingy. I'm not sure how to qualify it, but it appears to be an...adequate size, I guess." Steve blushed a bit. "Thanks... I think," as he began looking Sonja up and down. Sonja was 38 years old, he had learned, and unlike Jane, she showed it a bit. She wasn't a fat woman by any means, but she had fat, especially on her wide hips and thighs. Her breasts matched her lower body curves and were a 42D cup, sagging a bit. She didn't have a gut but her stomach rounded just a bit with a small layer of fat going down to the puffy hairless lips between her legs. Sonja turned around to give him a full view and he saw her slightly graying brown hair going to her shoulders as her smooth skin had a few sunspots down her back to her plump and full rear end, which had a rainbow on it's left cheek." "Wow, didn't think you were a tattoo woman," Steve teased. "Jane has the same one on the same spot," she giggled, "Drunk on vacation a couple of years ago." "It's very nice," Steve told her. "Your body, not the tattoo. But that's nice as well." "I'm a damn work of art," she told him proudly. "Maybe a week will let you appreciate non traditional beauty more." "Maybe," he said, "so...what do we do now...demonstrate?" "Uh, no," She told him as she began putting her underwear back on. "If you want to know that you read the owner's manual on the internet, right now we put our clothes on and get out of here before we have to explain something to Jane." They got dressed and were soon in the kitchen, where they could go over things without Jane overhearing. "Dress size?" "10." "Eye color?" "Brown." "Mothers name?" "Alice." "Father's name? "Pedro." "Maiden name?" "Ha! Trick question. You never changed it." "Nope." she said, looking sort of proud to have fooled him. "It's Ramirez. I took Jane's when we got married." "Really?" Steve said "I'd have thought she'd take yours seeing as you're the...you know..." "Man in the relationship?" Sonja supplied with raised eyebrows. "Yeah." "You just saw Jane in a bikini and me naked. How can you think that there's a 'man' in this relationship?" "There isn't," he said apologetically, "...at least not for a few more hours." 4. FOUR Steve double-checked the address he had been given and looked at the building again. It was a one story building that was literally non- descriptive--that is it had no signage other than the address on the glass window. Inside was a simple counter with a receptionist and two chairs and a coffee table. It looked to be a boring office to anyone on the outside, one that no one without a reason to would ever enter. Steve gulped and walked in. The receptionist looked up at him with a professional smile "How may I assist you today?" she said brightly. Steve bit his lip. This was the right address but there was nothing to confirm it was the right place. He couldn't just open up and say, "I'm here for the body-swap," to a total stranger. "I'm looking for Mayfield Neurological, is this the right place?" "It is indeed," she said brightly looking at her computer. "Are you Steven, our 10:00 am appointment?" Steve nodded. She knew. They had called ahead and she knew full well that he was going to be another person at the end of the day and she was smiling as if he were there for a massage. She pulled a packet out of a drawer and handed it to him. "Fill these forms out please and bring them up here when you're done." Steve sat down by the coffee table and started filling out. They were basic forms like you'd see at any doctor's office. Medical history, consent forms, liability waivers, and on none of them did it say anything anywhere about swapping minds, being another person, a new body. When he finished the receptionist smiled and told him to sit down and wait. Ten minutes later an Asian woman who looked to be about 35 came out with a clipboard "Steven Alain?" she asked looking at him. "Come with me," she said after he nodded. He followed her through a door behind the counter into a tiny hallway with three doors. "I'm Amy," she told him, "I'll be performing the procedure today, so just relax, it is a little weird but you won't feel a thing." They went through the first door and inside was a typical waiting room. When the door was shut Steve looked at her and asked, "So how does this work, the..." "Body-swap?" she interrupted with a laugh. "It's okay, Steve, the walls here are sound proof. We try not to mention what we do here up front, but back here it's all on the table. To answer your question, it's a complex procedure that involves mapping your brain, and then changing it's patterns until it matches the map of the other person. It takes hours but when it's done you're consciousness will be transferred into..." She flipped through the papers. "..Sonja Jacobs. Ooh, a gender swap, those are always interesting." "Do people request that often?" Steve wondered. "That's not what we do here," Amy explained. "Random people can't come off the street and ask for a body swap, the tech is too secret for now. We do contract work for various agencies and don't ask a lot of questions. Basically anytime someone is swapped, it is of vital importance. So while I know that you're going to be Sonja Jacobs for a very important reason, I don't know what it is, but what I do know is that it isn't because you wanted to see what it's like to be a woman, that part is just a bonus." "I'm actually quite comfortable being a man," Steve told her, trying not to seem girly. "Well let's hope so," she told him. "Because you need to get naked right now so we can get started." Steve blushed but did as she said. "It's cold in here," he explained as she looked him over. "Yeah, it always seems to be cold in here when I've got men." She pulled out a digital camera. "Stand against that wall with your arms at your side, we need some photos for our records." Steve did as she said, wondering how many men came through here for her not to bat an eyelash when she took naked pictures of them. When she was done she checked his heartbeat, blood pressure, and reflexes before finishing up her paperwork and handing him a bathrobe. "Put this on and I'll be back in about ten minutes." Steven was alone with his thoughts. Did he really want to do this? It would jump start his legal career but it would be the weirdest week of his life. Could he even back out now? The consent forms were signed, copied, and filed, was he now some sort of lab rat? The ten minute wait seemed like an hour because it actually was. Finally Amy popped her head in. "We're so sorry Steve, there's been a bit of a mishap with your appointment and we're working on it so please continue to be patient," she closed the door before he could ask, leaving him there with an open mouth. Now his mind was really racing. Had they been found out? Had the Bar Association had someone with knowledge and told on them? Did Sonja back out? He wouldn't blame her if she did, she had a great life and giving it up would be hard, even temporarily. Where was she anyway? Was she in the other room? Did they already start with her and do brain damage? Finally after another two hours Amy returned. "We're so sorry, Steve, it took longer than expected but we think we've got a fix." "What happened?" he demanded with worry in his voice. "I'm not the best person to explain," Amy told him, "but follow me and we'll get it sorted out." They left the exam room and went to the middle door. Inside was a staircase that went down three stories under the building. At the end of it was a much bigger hallway but still with three doors, one on each side and one on the end, presumably to much bigger rooms. Amy led him to the room at the end, which was decorated like a personal office. Sonja wasn't inside but there was a man in a lab coat similar to Amy's, a man in a business suit, and Mr. Fleischman. "Steve, good to see you," Fleischman began. "Sorry about your wait. This is Jim, another one of the technicians, and this man is Roger Mayfield, the owner and inventor." "Pleased to meet you," Steve said briefly. "Wheres Sonja?" he asked Fleischman. "Earlier this morning Sonja was admitted to the hospital with chest pains," Fleischman said solemnly. "Oh my God," Steve gasped. "Is she okay?" "She'll be perfectly fine," Fleischman assured him, "It was just an irregular heartbeat, but nothing serious was discovered. She'll be back at work soon enough, once she's recovered and some tests conclude that she's fine. However that does throw a curveball at our plan." Mr. Mayfield spoke up, "Because of the nature of the process, we don't perform the procedure on anyone with heart issues, even minor ones. We can't risk her heart stopping from the anesthesia and stopping it halfway, leaving you some sort of hybrid." "So this means I've got to take the exam myself?!" Steve panicked "I spent my last free weekend studying Sonja! I'm so far behind! I'll never pass now." "Calm down Steve," Fleischman said, "that is one option if you choose it, however we are prepared to continue the plan almost as before. There was another lawyer who worked their initial case and therefore can swap with you without breaching the confidentiality." "Who?" Steven asked, uneasy. Jim left the room and a minute later emerged with Sonja's replacement, also wearing a bathrobe. "Oh hell no!" Steve said standing up when he saw who it was. "There is no way I'm spending a week in THAT." "Get over yourself," Rebecca Madigan said rolling her eyes "You know very well I'd be getting the bad end of the deal." "Oh yeah, a whole week of sleeping in a coffin and drinking the blood of the unborn, a real great life experience." Steve said sarcastically. "Yeah, and I want to spend the week as a scrawny whiner who can't even take his own exams," Rebecca retorted. "So why volunteer?" Steve challenged. "Mrs. Madigan was one of the attorneys who assisted on Mayfield's patent case," Fleischman explained. "She knows about the technology and we've agreed that her helping you would go a long way towards making up for her latest media faux pas." "Oh yes, after lengthy debate," Rebecca said in a tone that indicated it was more of an ultimatum than an agreement. "I know you and Sonja are good friends and had planned ahead, but Rebecca is more than qualified to take the exam in her place," Fleischman told Steve. "Don't sugarcoat it, Irv," Rebecca said. "I got a perfect score." "Nobody gets a perfect," Steve said in disbelief. "Normal people don't get perfects," Rebecca said defiantly, "in case you haven't noticed in your abnormally long internship, I'm one of the best in the business." "Right, but you're also one of the worst people in the business, which is why you didn't make partner," Steve said turning to Fleischman. "I don't think I'm comfortable with this, Sonja was weird enough." "Here that?" Rebecca said turning to Jim. "He's backing out. Let him take the test and choke it away himself. Get me back into my clothes so I can get home and forget about the perverse things someone like him would do in a woman's body." Someone like him. What did she mean by that? Was she mentioning his sexuality, which she didn't know? Was she making a remark about homosexuals in general? Steve wanted to punch her but she was a girl. What if she wasn't? What if she had to be a lowly intern? What if he got to treat her like she treated him? What if people no longer feared her? Why not get a good exam score while teaching her a lesson? "You know what?" Steve said "I've changed my mind. I haven't studied enough, I think I'll have her take the exam." Rebecca's mouth dropped open and quickly turned to a scowl. "Excellent," Fleischman said. "Well I'll be off then, I'll let you get to it." Steve smirked at the speechless Rebecca as they were each led to one of the rooms in the long hallway. 5. FIVE "Does it hurt?" Steve asked Amy nervously as she attached another in a long series of electrodes to his skull "The process?" Amy answered "I dunno, a bit maybe. We don't have a large sample size since everyone is heavily sedated when they go through it." "Have you done it?" Steve said in a hushed voice, almost a whisper. "Me? Oh no, I'm not nearly important enough to have someone want to be or be put in someone we need. I just help the clients." She attached the last of the electrodes and put a rubber swimming cap over them, "But I'd be nervous as hell if I were you." "Whys that?!" Steve asked, his heart suddenly racing. "Are there lots of accidents?" "No no," Amy said patting him on the back. "The process is highly successful and you're in capable hands. I'm talking about that horrible woman you're becoming. Is that the one lady who is sometimes on the local Fox News?" Steve nodded. "The infamous Rebecca Madigan." "Aren't you afraid she'll do something awful while she's you?" Amy said as she hooked the electrodes up to something. "I've been thinking about it," Steve said, "and while we're swapped, I have much more potential to embarrass her than she does me. I have all the leverage. I can tell her to behave herself or I'll do something like come out of the closet in a big public announcement." "HA!" Amy said as she approached with a strange device. "It would totally be believable. The hardcore homophobes are a lot of times closet cases." "What the hell is that?" Steve asked changing the subject abruptly to the apparatus in Amy's hand. It looked like a mask with a tube out the front of it." "This," she said as she worked it around his head, "is the end of ventilator. So you don't drown when you're in the machine. You see, the process works best if there is as little neural activity as possible, so we reduce input to your senses as much as we can. To dull your sense of touch you'll be floating in a pool of cool water." The mask fit over Steve's face, covering his nose and mouth but allowing proper breathing. "This is weird," he said in a muffled voice. "That's one of the tamest things that is going to happen to you today," Amy said as she brought out what looked to be a gurney. "Now, take off the bathrobe and lie down." Steve was still awkward about being naked in front of Amy but she didn't seem the least bit put off by it. They way she went about this was very clinical. Like a simple scientific process she'd performed dozens of times and Steve was just her morning appointment. Steve laid down on what looked like a stretcher with straps on the side. Amy secured him across the chest and feet, although not tightly, just enough to keep him in place. "Try and remain calm," Amy told him, "this next part is always unsettling." She approached his head with a pair of goggles that were tinted. She placed around his head and over his eyes and when they were in place Steve could see nothing, it was as if he were in total darkness. "The chamber itself is dark inside," she explained, "but that guarantees no activity in your optical nerves. You're effectively blind until we take them off." Steve heard her moving around some more equipment before her voice spoke up again, "You're going to feel a poke in your right arm, and that's a time released sedative. Once we poke you it will be about 10 minutes before you go unconscious. When you wake up you'll be in another room and another body. I'll change rooms too so you don't have to have to establish a rapport with Jim. You'll have enough on your plate as it is." Steve heard machinery start and begin to warm up before he felt Amy touch his ear. "This is the last part if it, ear plugs. Once I put these in you'll be deaf. Are you ready?" Steve gulped and nodded and felt her place something soft in each of his ears. When she finished the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat, which was racing but slowing down. He felt the stretcher underneath him move slowly before stopping. A minute after it was in position he felt a wetness on his backside, slowly moving upward. Water. He was in the chamber and it was filling with water. Soon his entire body was submerged and bobbing around slightly, held in place by the restraints. His body was slowly becoming numb and as he drifted off to sleep all he was aware of was a slight swaying motion. The next thing felt was the swaying motion along with a sinking feeling. His skin wasn't numb anymore and he could feel the water against him, it was warm and it the level was going down. When he was flat against the stretcher he felt slight differences. It was as if his buttocks were on a cushion, and there was a weight against his chest, as well as one pulling down on his scalp. Hair, he thought. Long, wet hair. The stretcher moved forward before Steve felt his earplugs removed and was blinded by a bright light in his eyes. When the light was moved away Steve was staring up at hazily at Amy. She undid the latch on the mask and Steve felt it easier to breath. "Can you tell me your name?" Amy asked. "Steve Alain," he responded in a raspy voice that was not his own. Amy smiled. "Success!" she said proudly. "I'm going to undo your straps so you can sit up, but do it slowly. The sedatives might still be affecting you a little and you might get dizzy." Steve sat up and felt the weight on his chest move forward and pull down. Breasts. "Is everything working fine?" Amy asked as she looked him over. "Everything is blurry," Steve said, panicking. "Did my eyes get messed up?" "Oh," Amy said with a slight laugh, "sort of, at least not your eyes." She walked over across the room and returned with a pair of eyeglasses, handing them to Steve. "Those should help; apparently Ms. Madigan is far sighted we had her take her contacts out." Steve put the glasses on and the world was clear once more. He was in a room almost identical to the one he had gone to sleep in, but with all the equipment on the other side. Amy handed him a towel and dried him off a bit. "Ready to stand up and see the damage?" Steve stood up and looked towards the mirror in the room. In front of him was more of Rebecca Madigan than he had ever intended on seeing. Her brown hair that was usually up in a tight, conservative bun hung around his slender shoulders, wet. Her face which was usually in a tight lipped smirk or scowl reflected Steve's sense of awe at the moment, mouth slightly open. The glasses were different too, he had never seen her with those either. Below the neck was a slender frame with a few freckles on the shoulders and arMs. On his chest were a small, slightly sagging pair of breasts. Smaller than Sonja's but still a handful. Steve reached up and cupped them, feeling a jolt from his nipples. "Every time," he heard Amy say, "first thing you all go for is the boobs." "They're weird," Steve said. "So sensitive." "Yeah, they get that way around age 12," Amy explained. "Don't go around bumping into things with them, it can hurt." Steve held his hands out in front of him. They were noticeably smaller with manicured nails painted blue with well kept cuticles. He ran them down his stomach, which was mostly flat with a little bit of belly fat as it blended with his pelvis. His hips flared out ever so slightly before slanting down into a pair of skinny but shapely thighs. In between them was a full bush of pubic hair concealing what Steve could feel as an absence of what he had before, a void of sorts. He touched it softly. "Hey now!" Amy interrupted. "You'll have time for that later. We've got work to do." Steve dried off while Amy poked and prodded him, testing his senses and reflexes. When she was done she gave him a bathrobe to put on. "All clear for release," she told him with a tone of pride. "We'll do this again in a week." "What do I do now?" he asked as she opened a door inside the lab. "Debriefing of sorts," she said as she led him to one more room that he had never seen before. Inside was a dressing table and a few chairs. Sitting in one with uncomfortably crossed legs was Steve's body, a look of part disgust and part bewilderment on his old face. Steve smiled when he saw Rebecca stare at him. He had hoped it would put her out of her comfort zone and it had. This was going to be an interesting week. "Don't cross your legs like that, it's really awkward on your penis," he teased. "It's your...penis," she said disgusted. "Yes, well you're in charge of it for the week," he continued. "So be gentle with it and take good care of it. Especially first thing in the morning. The porn is on the PC in the folder marked 'work documents.'" "That's disgusting!" she spat. "You're disgusting. I'm not going to do that, and you will most definitely not do that!" "You say that now..." he said as he sat down next to her, "but wait till you get your first boner." Rebecca looked like she was going to faint, "I'm going to study, go to work, and take the exam," she said slowly. "That's it." "Mostly," Steve said smirking. "But Fleischman said we have to live each others lives, so you'll have to do my routine, which means we'll need to know things. And while I'm a single guy who is going to be immersed in a test for a week, I know nothing about you. Do you have a family, or were hatched from an egg?" "My husband, Martin," she said with a look on her face, "Be nice to him...but not TOO nice. I know you had fantasies of playing 'The L Word' with Sonja but that's not going to happen in my life." "Believe me, I have no intention," Steve told her. "Any kids?" Rebecca shook her head. "Do you have any medical conditions? Or any allergies besides exercise?" she asked as she grabbed Steve's slight beer belly. "Strawberries," Steve said remembering, "don't eat strawberries." "Good to know," Rebecca answered, "I don't have any allergies but my body has strict requirements. Every day at 5 AM you'll get up and run 2 miles on the treadmill. Then you'll do 50 sit-ups before getting ready for work. You'll shave my legs and underarms while applying face cream. No smoking, no drinking besides red wine, no fast food for any foods that Martin doesn't cook, and no drugs." "Oh, you mean I can't try heroin?" Steve said sarcastically. "I'm serious," she said tight lipped. "I'm going to get you a law license and you are going to return my body to me in the correct condition." "Uptight, pristine, witch condition," Steve said with the roll of his eyes. "It's a good thing you don't have kids, they'd turn out to be psychopaths with all those rules." Steve felt his face sting and saw stars in his eyes before collapsing hard to the floor. When his vision cleared he saw his body standing over him, staring at his hand in awe. "Wow, you're pretty strong for someone so out of shape," she said impressed. "Did you just fucking hit me?" Steve said in disbelief. "I did, you were being an asshole," Rebecca said. "You can't fucking hit people," Steve said almost yelling, "there are consequences." "You're right," Rebecca mused. "You could call the cops on me, have your body labeled with a charge of assault. See how the Bar Association takes that." Steve rubbed his smooth face. This was unexpected. He had planned on using her body to teach her a lesson but she now had raw power without any long term repercussions. He'd have to take things more carefully." "I'm sorry I was rude," he said with tight lips. "We should get dressed now, our clothes are on the table." "We should," Rebecca said not apologizing herself. "Get this awful week started so it can be finished." The clothes that Rebecca had worn folded in a neat pile. On top were a pair of black control top briefs. Why am I not surprised? Steve thought Uptight, boring, underwear. Still, Steve was a bit grateful for the simplicity. Anything fancier would have been difficult for his first time. He held up the matching black bra. "Do you need help with that?" Rebecca asked, already dressed in his jeans and t-shirt. "No," Steve said as he fastened it behind his back, "Sonja showed me how already." He adjusted the straps and pushed his new breasts into their cups, making them look perkier and fuller. Once those were secured Steve put on her pantsuit which included way more buttons on the blouse than it needed to, all of them on the wrong side. Once it was on, he turned to the real Rebecca. "How do I look?" "Slovenly," she said, "my hair is to be in a professional style in public at all times. There's a brush and a scrunchy in my purse, take care of that." A few strokes and a loose ponytail later, Rebecca begrudgingly gave her approval. She then opened up her purse and pulled out a pen and two business cards before giving them as well as the purse to Steve. "Write down your facebook login on one of the cards," she instructed. "If we need a cheat sheet that will help fill in blanks." Steve looked down at one of the cards where she had written: "Login: [email protected] Password: 12345." "That's the kind of combination an idiot has on his luggage," Steve said. "That's not the normal password," she explained, "I changed it so that you wouldn't have the real one. I'll change it back when we do." Steve wished he had thought about that as he wrote down his info, hoping he remembered to fix it later. He handed the card to Rebecca who held it for a second before realizing her pants came with functioning pockets. "Seriously though," she said, "my hair, be mindful of it." As they headed out the door and Rebecca turned to him. "One week, one test. You do your best, and I'll do mine." "Do your best Ms. MADIGAN," Steve said with a smile on his face, "I'm your superior now. I'll see you at work, bright and early." 6. SIX BEEP BEEP. "Oh Hell Yes!" Steve exclaimed, feeling truly positive about something for the first time since he had learned he'd be swapping with Rebecca. He was in the parking structure near Mayfield trying to get comfortable in her strangely fitting shoes and strangely fitting body when he had pushed the unlock button on the keychain he had found in her purse. When the lights flashed on a shiny black BMW Z8 convertible, he picked up the pace and walked over to the vehicle that he'd get to drive for the week. After a brief, appreciative walk around Steve climbed into the tiny coupe and put Rebecca's home address into the GPS and started it up. "Liberals are ruining this country," said a voice coming from the radio. "Ugh. Now I know who actually listens to this crap," Steve said changing the channel to an alternative rock station and turning the volume up. Soon he was on the freeway with the left lane open in front of him. Temptation soon overcame him and he pushed the car to 90 miles and hour once he realized that any speeding ticket would come due well after he had left that body. "Just defend yourself in court, bitch," he said out loud with a cackle to his reflection in the rearview mirror. "Shouldn't be too hard for the greatest lawyer in history," he finished making his new voice resemble the mocking tone he had heard its rightful owner use so many times before. After a truly enjoyable ride home, Steve pulled into a neighborhood he had never been to before called Evergreen Meadows. After navigating the tree-lined streets for a bit he finally came to a stop at the top of a hill in front of the biggest house in the neighborhood, with the address matching the one he had been given. "How much does she make in a year?" He wondered out loud as he pulled into the garage that was bigger than his apartment. Parking the car next to an antique Jaguar he pulled out the house keys and went in through the side door. Once inside he found himself in a modernly decorated kitchen, with a large fridge beautiful marbled trim with newly stained cabinets. He was about to see if there was anything to drink in the fridge when a voice behind him spoke up. "Senora Madigan?" Steve turned around to see a middle aged Latina woman wearing a maids uniform holding a bottle of 409. Of course they had a maid. There was no way that Rebecca was going to clean a house this size herself, not with a full time job. This was the moment of truth. The first person to see him in this body that had no idea who he truly was. His first test at impersonating someone else. What would the real Rebecca do? The real Rebecca would call the INS or at least make an insensitive joke, Steve thought, and he wasn't willing to go that deep into character. "I cleaned behind the washing machine like you asked," the woman began, "and the oven, and organized the fridge..." "Why don't you take the day off," Steve blurted out, thinking it was the quickest way to get this woman out of his newly long hair. Her face lit up with shocked surprise, "Gracias, Senora Madigan," and she hurried out of the kitchen, obviously thinking that he would change his mind. Note to self, get maid's name, Steve thought to himself as she left him alone once more. She must have been a good maid, because the giant house was spotless, although a bit eerie with nobody home. The lower floor had among other things a dining room with a large table, a living room with lots of seating for entertaining people,and a den with a giant television. Steve paused to explore a bit when he came upon Rebecca's home office. There were shelves full of law books, which lately were mostly decorative with most legal info available on online databases. Steve saw the computer on a wooden desk and sat down in a large, comfortable leather chair to see what he could find on it. "Password protected. Shit," Steve said out loud to nobody. "And she's not gonna give those to me for a temporary swap." There was an older laptop on the desk that wasn't password protected but also didn't contain any information. At least he could get online. Steve stood up and looked at the pictures and awards on the wall. Princeton University and Yale Law, Summa Cum Laude on both diplomas. Various plaques from the bar association and other legal societies as well as photos with local and state politicians. "She certainly gets recognition, I'll give her that," Steve said before leaving the office and ascending the large staircase. At the top was a hallway with three unfinished guest rooms and a lovely bathroom and a large master bedroom at the end of the hall. It was decorated nicely in light blue and soft yellow, with a giant California King sized bed with a soft down bedspread. On the wall were pictures of his body in various stages of aging, as well as thin man with a kind smile, and one of them together with Rebecca in a wedding dress. "Martin," Steve said, "my biggest challenge." Attached to bedroom was the master bath, with a shower over a hot tub sized bathtub. Next to it was a vanity covered in various creams and soaps and gels. "What does this stuff do?" Steve wondered, and hoped that a week without them wouldn't cause his body to age rapidly like in Indiana Jones. Steve walked back into the bedroom and opened up the large walk in closet. Most of it was Rebecca's stuff, with half of the closet full of the business suits he'd seen her wear to work every day. However about a quarter of the closet was full of fancy dresses and short skirts and low cut blouses. "I'm not going to worry about that," Steve said, shuddering at the thought of his body dressed like that. Behind the clothes was a large collection of shoes and a bunch of shoe boxes that appeared to be full of pictures and papers. Curiously picked one up and began going through his contents. It was mostly boring correspondence and he was about to put it away when he felt arms wrap around him and a soft kiss on the top of his head. "Looking for something?" a man's voice said. Martin. Steve spun around in his arms to try and break the embrace but all that got him was a kiss on the lips. "You're home!" was all he could say when the man broke off. "Usually am at this time," he said taking his shoes off. "You on the other hand are not. Did that special assignment you were called in for finish early?" She told him something, Steve thought, but what? "I guess," she told him slowly, "I'm not sure when it was supposed to end." "What was it anyway?" Martin asked undoing his tie, "Or is that protected information?" he asked as if there were a great many things his wife couldn't disclose because of work, and it was common for him not to know them. "Hush hush," Steve confirmed, hoping that would close the subject. "Well that's good I guess," Martin said as he took his pants off and stood in front of Steve in only a tank top and boxers. "If Fleischman is trusting you with something like that it means that you likely won't be in too much trouble for what you said the other day." Martin pulled on some khakis and a t-shirt before hugging Steve again, "What should we have for dinner?" "Can we order in?" Steve asked nicely. "I've had a long day and I really don't feel like cooking." Martin laughed. "Yeah, it would be a surprise if you did for the first time in 22 years. I'd think aliens had abducted you and replaced you with someone else. I'm thinking chicken something, I'll figure it out." With that Martin went down to the kitchen and about an hour later the scent of cooked chicken brought Steve downstairs to another unsolicited kiss. "Chicken Marsala," Martin said with mock humility, obviously quite proud of what he had made. Steve sat down at the kitchen table and listened to Martin Madigan go on about his day running errands and getting inspiration for his writing. He was a syndicated political columnist, nothing major or national just small newsletters and magazines but his occupation seemed to allow him time to manage the household while his wife worked long hours. "Look at me, hogging the conversation," he said. "How are things, sweetie? Besides your top secret fence mending assignment today, what else is going on at work?" "Um, actually I've got a big case coming up," Steve lied, not knowing Rebecca's exact schedule but knowing enough that Fleischman would keep her on the bench while she was in someone else's body. "Top secret as well, in fact I'll have to look over some of it in the office." "Don't work too hard," Martin said clearing the table. "I'm probably just going to watch some TV in the bedroom unless inspiration strikes. I'll see you when you come up." With that Steve went to the home office and locked the door behind him. It was 7:00 pm, so in the interest of killing time he turned on the computer and pulled up his own Facebook account. After hours of browsing his newsfeed and keeping up with the mundane happenings of his loved ones, he heard the TV turn off and a few minutes later went upstairs and changed into some pajamas. Martin was sleeping in the bed when Steve gingerly got in and turned on his side away from the snoring man, trying to find a way to sleep comfortably with breasts. He was soon interrupted by the feeling of a strong arm around his waist and a hand massaging his stomach. Soon Martin was kissing his neck, which sent a tingling feeling down his spine and a sense of shock and horror in his mind. "I'm not in the mood tonight," he said quickly. "I have a headache," he said, disappointed that he had to be so cliche. Martin laughed, "You always say that this cures your headaches," he said, nuzzling in closer causing Steve to feel a distinct poke in his backside which could only be one thing. "I'm sorry. Not tonight." Martin kissed his neck one more time, "Sorry honey. I hope you feel better. By the way, can Mariana visit tomorrow?" "Umm sure," Steve said, trying to end this conversation and go to sleep as soon as possible. "Yay," Martin said strangely excited to see this woman tomorrow. "Night my love." With that Martin adjusted himself so he was no longer prodding his wife but maintained a strong embrace as he drifted off to sleep. Steve thought about pushing him off but didn't want to wake him and eventually fell asleep in his pretend husband's arms. 7. SEVEN The buzzing of the alarm at 6:00 am Tuesday alerted Steve to two huge differences. The first was the face full of hair that reminded him that the previous day's events had not been a bad dream, and that he really was Rebecca Madigan to the world. The second was that it was 6:00 am and he wasn't even tired, as if his body was used to getting up at this time. As he moved Martin's arm off of him, the man stirred and moved over to take up the entire bed. Apparently, writers didn't keep strict hours and he could sleep in. Steve went into the bathroom and kept his eyes shut while using the bathroom, trying not to think about what he was doing or who he was doing it as. When he was finished he stared at the shower. "Right then, getting ready for work," he said out loud. He hadn't gotten a strict morning routine from Rebecca but Sonja had given him a lot of details, and it couldn't be that much different. "Clearly she shaves less things than Sonja," Steve muttered as he took of his pajamas and turned on the shower. After washing everything twice but still unable to shake the feeling of being Rebecca, Steve put on a bathrobe and headed quietly to the closet. He thought briefly about wearing some of the risque stuff but decided against it. It was out of character and he wasn't sure anyone would want to see Rebecca dressed like that, least of all him. He pulled out a basic black suit and after struggling with some pantyhose he was able to look quasi-professional. "Objection," he said to the mirror, trying to look lawyerly. Martin was still sleeping when he went down to the kitchen. "Apparently Master Chef doesn't do breakfasts," Steve said as he poured some cold cereal. When he finished he left the house and took the long way to the law office, testing what the Bimmer could do. Steve pulled into the parking lot at 9:05, and smiled as he pulled into a reserved parking spot by the building. Putting the top back up he pulled a hairbrush out of his purse and spent a few minutes fixing what the wind had done. The law office looked the same from his new perspective, but the people acted much differently. The security guard held the door open for Steve and called him "Ma'am," and the receptionist greeted him with a "Good morning Mrs. Madigan," which sounded both respectful and frightened. As he walked towards Rebecca's office he walked past the intern area and saw his own body already at his old desk, head buried in a book. The real Rebecca looked up, made quick eye contact, and then quickly and awkwardly looked away. Steve smirked a bit and got an idea. "Mr. Alain," he said in the meanest voice he could muster "That last brief you prepared for me was a disaster. No wonder you didn't pass the bar. Do it again! Right now, drop everything," The other interns looked on silently in fear as Rebecca gave him a dirty look with his own face before Steve walked to Rebecca's office, smiling from ear to ear as he sat down. About five minutes later Rebecca came into the office carrying a manilla folder. She closed the door behind her and threw the empty folder at Steve. "Listen you, I know you're enjoying some sort of power trip her, but Fleischman said that as long as were like this my only priority is exam review. Meaning no busywork. So find some other way to feel powerful." "It's hard feeling powerful in this puny, old body," Steve said just to get her goat. Rebecca rolled her eyes and then looked at the clock "I'm gonna go back to your desk and you're going to move it before you're late." "Late for what?" Steve asked her. Rebecca glared. "Senior staff meeting," she hissed. "Read my fucking daily planner before you do something stupid. Fleischman knows who you really are but no one else does, so go there, sit down, shut up, and just make it look like I'm extra quiet today." Rebecca left the office and Steve grabbed a tablet to take to the meeting to help look busy. He walked down the hall to the main conference room where the firms more experienced and successful lawyers were milling in making small talk. Steve sat down in a chair towards the end of the table, but not without being noticed by Paul Jackson and Will Rutherford, two of the firms litigators, who were looking her up and down sniggering. "Nice hair today, Madigan," Paul said mockingly. "Have you given up entirely or did it get messed up when you flew in on your broom this morning." Will laughed at this but Steve just looked down ignoring them. Its not that they were making fun of Rebecca, he was guilty of doing the same thing, albeit behind her back. It was they they weren't even clever. "It must have gotten messed up while she was screwing Fleischman," Will said, "because thats the only way I think of that you saved your job after what you said" "Seriously Madigan," Paul chimed in, "having ratty hair isn't going to convince them to allow you to wear a white hood to work. Have some self respect" Steve put his hand up to his hair. It was in a loose ponytail that day. He wasn't used to Rebecca's hair and simply did what seemed easiest, but lack of practice made it looser than a normal woman would style it. That remark hurt a little bit more because it wasn't about Rebecca in general, but rather how he looked that day. Was this a daily thing? Every one made remarks about Rebecca, she had a well earned reputation but none of the other interns dared to say them to her face. Paul and Will didn't have that same reason to fear her. Did they say things like this to her every day? There was no way she would sit there and take that from these two overgrown frat boys. It would be out of character not to respond. "That's not appropriate," Steve said as sternly as his new voice could sound. "It's borderline sexual harassment." Paul and Will looked like they were about to burst out laughing but just giggled like a couple of idiots. Paul was about to snap back when his attention was grabbed by someone speaking up at the head of the table. Elena Baxter was the other partner in the company. She had to be in her sixties but she had the energy of a much younger woman despite several wrinkle lines on her face and black hair she clearly dyed. Steven didn't know her that well, since Fleischman did most of the interviewing and interaction with interns, but he did know she had a reputation for being strictly professional. Every set of eyes around the table was focused straight ahead, hoping to avoid being considered inattentive. The meeting itself was pretty boring. Mostly financial notes and status reports given by various lawyers on the cases they were working on. Steve mostly just looked at the tablet the whole time, feigning interest until Baxter said something that caught his attention. "If you haven't heard already, Sonja Jacobs had a minor heart issue yesterday. It appears to be nothing serious however we're giving her all the time she needs to make sure that isn't the case. Whether that's a few days or a few months is irrelevant but until she's back we need to pick up the slack." Baxter held up a folder and pulled out a sheet of paper "We've got a new pro bono case coming in. Ms. Clara Jones, formerly Carl Jones. A transgendered woman who was recently fired from her job as a waitress at a local chicken wing place...Headlights or something. It's one where the girls show their breasts off in tight shirts, I'm sure some of you've been there." She looked at Paul after saying that. "Anyway according to Ms. Jones she was fired shortly after management became aware that she was born male. The restaurant claims it was for cause but apparently she was great at her job. I don't know all the details but since this falls under discrimination and civil rights it's something that Sonja would take care of normally. Since she's out I need a volunteer." Steve thought about Clara Jones. People were too cruel to transwomen, even normally tolerant people. This poor girl lost her job because she had been born in the wrong body and had done something about it. Steve suddenly felt very aware of his hair, breasts, and body parts that he wasn't supposed to have and realized how weird it was being in the wrong body, and unlike him Clara couldn't fix it in a backroom science lab. Overcome with sympathy he blurted out, "I'll take it. I can handle that case." Every set of eyes on the table looked at him in stunned silence. Even Baxter. "You do realize we're for the plaintiff, right," Will said. "We aren't defending the restaurant's right to discriminate." "I realize this," Steve said coldly before turning to Elena. "My schedule is clear and Mr. Fleischman said he wanted me to do more pro bono work" Baxter shook her head but handed Steve the folder. "I'm sure you'll do a great job on it, but be sensitive around the client" Steve thumbed through the file while the meeting went on and filed out quietly when it ended. When he reached Rebecca's office she was waiting for him with a curious look on her face. "What is that in your hand?" she asked. "It's my latest case," Steve said smugly entering the office. "A discrimination case." Rebecca followed him in to the office and closed the door, a livid look on Steve's face. "YOUR latest case? YOU are not a lawyer. That's my name and reputation attached to that case, and I don't have time for it. I'm too busy getting you your damn license." "I'll just do the prep work," Steve said "You can finish it when you get your body back next week. Now leave my office, intern." Rebecca scowled "Just don't volunteer for anything else." 8 Steve was in the bedroom that night browsing through various termination lawsuits that might be pertinent to the Clara Jones case. He was wearing a simple pair of striped pjs a white tank top with no bra, which felt heavenly after wearing one all day. His browsing was interrupted by Martin. "For the new case?" he asked. "Maybe," Steve said. "Just preliminary studying. I won't know the full details until tomorrow. Isn't really important." "Awesome," Martin said before leaving the room. 20 minutes later Steve was interrupted. "Hey, girlfriend," a falsetto voice said from the doorway. Steve's mouth dropped open. Standing in the doorway was Martin, sort of. He was wearing a pair of womans yoga pants, tight against his muscly legs with a tanktop similar to the one he was wearing, only he also had a bra on underneath that was clearly stuffed with something that gave the realistic illusion of breasts. His face was done with some elaborate makeup with a blonde wig on top. Steve had to choke back laughter by putting a pillow in front of his face. Martin was a crossdresser. Rebecca Madigan's husband liked to dress as a woman. "Mariana?" he said already knowing the answer to the question. "Been too long, hun," Martin answered in his clearly practiced falsetto. "You work too hard. Let's say we have some wine and give you a manicure and some girl talk" "Sure," Steve squeaked. As "Mariana" went downstairs to get the booze he laughed, hearing Rebecca's familiar cackle come from inside him. He stopped but was still grinning when the man in drag returned with a bottle of wine, two glasses and a nail polish kit. Steve downed the first glass quickly, this was going to take some getting used to without busting out laughing, but the wine hit his new body fast and he settled down quickly. "Mariana" in the meantime, did exactly what she said she was going to do and went to work on filing, buffing, trimming, and painting Steve's nails. All the while talking to what he thought was his wife about celebrities, fashion, chick flicks, and all manner of girly things. Another glass of wine and "Mariana" was done. "Let it dry sweetie," she said just like a nail technician. Steve looked down at his newly red nails. The nicely painted manicure that he had observed when he first looked this body over wasn't the result of a nail appointment, it was the expert handiwork of her faithful husband. This caused Steve to smile. "Keep your hands up," Martin said as he leaned in and kissed him. Not wanting to screw up his nails and his inhibitions down from the wine, Steve didn't automatically push him away, and instead drank in the pleasant sensations that were coming over him. He kissed Martin's lipstick covered lips back for a few seconds before he broke off. "Hands in the air," Martin said softly in his normal voice as he started kissing Steve's neck, causing a tingly feeling to come over his unfamiliar body" The tingly continued and escalated until he let out a soft squeak as he felt Martin's hand stroke his nipple through the tank top. Instantly they were hard and Steve could feel them throb with soft pleasure with every heartbeat. After a few minutes he let out a soft moan, causing Martin to smile as he lifted up the tank top and began kissing them. "I'm serious," he said teasingly, "that's expensive nail polish, don't mess up my hard work" Steve couldn't respond, his head was swimming with wine and pleasure, his new body parts sending messages his brain had never heard before and reacting in ways that felt both strange and amazing. He began to move his hips instinctively as he felt a moistness between his legs. Martin must have sensed it or known his wife's body so well that he knew what it wanted, and he moved his hand down between Steve's legs and started stroking his thighs through the pajama bottoMs. Steve clamped down on his hands without thinking and gripped, hoping to scratch what felt like an itch, a need, all while keeping his painted nails up in the air. Martin took the hint and removed Steve's pajama bottoMs. Steve hadn't worn any panties beneath them and he felt a cool breeze on the wetness that had formed there. He felt the wig Martin was wearing tickle his thighs as he softly kissed Steve's inner thighs, causing a buildup of desire that made Steve whisper a husky, "Please." Martin knew his cue and reached up to stroke Steve's right nipple while kissing his labia. The contact on his pussy caused his hips to buck towards Martin's mouth, trying to hit just the right spot, but Martin knew what he was doing, and giggled a bit knowing how to tease his wife's body. He didn't keep it up for long, and started licking softly and rapidly. He moved his other hand towards his soft opening began stroking it, causing Steve to spread his legs as far as he could. It was then that Martin found his clit, causing every nerve ending in Rebecca Madigan's body to go off like fireworks, bringing Steve a new and intense form of pleasure. Steve could feel the build up. The pressure. He knew what was coming and didn't care whose body it was in, he wanted it. He was like a finely tuned instrument and Martin was playing a masterpiece. He knew the rhythm and patterns to hit to slowly build Steve towards his goal, and he picked up speed. Steve was close. He didn't know how to do it, but it seemed to be coming naturally but he couldn't wait. He reached down and grabbed Martin's head and pressed it down into his pussy, grinding into his tongue. One final swish of the tongue and it happened. Like fireworks. Every muscle in that body tensed up for a few seconds before Steve was able to breathe again, and he did so heavily. "Thank you," was all he could say to Martin. Martin moved his head back up and was grinning with pride. He looked at Steve's nails and laughed "Didn't mess them up too bad, but I think there's gonna be nail polish in my wig" All Steve could do was laugh, growing tired in the afterglow of wine and orgasm. Martin turned the light off and hugged his wife's body close. "I love you," he said softly. "I love you too," Steve said, not really meaning but too much in character to say otherwise. And he felt small and safe in Martins arms as he drifted off to sleep. 9 The alarm woke Steve up Wednesday morning but unlike the day before it wasn't shocking or jarring. His entire body was relaxed and refreshed from last night. He had slept like a rock and felt safe and warm in Martin's arms. He untangled himself and looked at Rebecca's multi-talented husband. He's too good for her. He thought Martin was still sleeping in his Mariana clothes, but his wig had fallen off and was next to the bed. Steve let him rest and tiptoed to the bathroom to get ready for work. He was still sleeping when Steve left the house, feeling spring in his step that he hadn't felt since he'd been placed in Rebecca's body. Maybe she just needed to get laid, maybe that's why she was always grumpy. Although based on last night and Martin's acuity it was pretty clear that that was no fluke, and Rebecca Madigan had a fantastic sex life and still managed to be a bitch. Still, he was in a good mood, and the office could tell it. Strange looks were all around as it looked to the world as if Rebecca Madigan was on some excellent drugs to make her nicer. Steve sat in his office and shut the door. He let out a deep sigh that was still weird to hear in Rebecca's voice and thought back to the night before. As good as it had felt, something was nagging at him. Martin was a man. Under no circumstances had Steve ever imagined himself being sexual with a man, and he had kept his guard up that first night. But last night was different. All it took was a little wine, some nice treatment, and some knowledgeable foreplay and all that had vanished. It was if his body had taken over and he acted on instinct. What Martin had done to him felt fantastic, and somehow the part of this body's brain overrode the part of his consciousness that didn't want to be sexual with a man. Had it been the booze? Would he have done that sober. He thought back to Martin, and instead of the trepidation that he had towards him at first, he was filled with a warm fuzzy feeling. A fondness and association between that middle aged man and the mind blowing orgasm he had had the night before. Would he feel that way when he was himself again? He would remember the orgasm even though the equipment would be gone. Would he be grossed out at the memories? Just thinking about it now made him feel a little warm inside, so he turned on the computer to distract himself. Around 9 30 his own body came into the office and shut the door. "Your parents called last night," she told him. "I think I faked my way through it pretty well but they were a little overbearing. They kept wishing me luck on the exam and saying they'd love me and be proud no matter what happened. That sort of coddling explains a lot about you." Steve rolled his eyes, but felt too good to be truly irritated. He smiled wickedly and held up his hands. "Do you like the nail polish?" he asked innocently. "You did that yourself?" she said with a raised eyebrow. "No," Steve said with a smirk, "Mariana did." Rebecca slapped a hand to her forehead face. "Dammit Martin," she whispered. "So Rebecca Madigan's husband is a drag queen," he mocked, "think of the scandal." "He's a crossdresser," Rebecca said in slight annoyance. "Theres a difference. He explained it once. He's a straight man who dresses like a woman sometimes. It's just clothing and he's totally heterosexual, and what he does in private is his own business." "I won't tell," Steve promised, not to save Rebecca any face but because Martin had been too nice to him to embarrass like that. "Because it's nobody's business," Rebecca repeated firmly. She opened the door and walked past a woman who was waiting in the doorway. "Mrs. Madigan?" she asked in a meek voice. "Yes?" Steve said. "I have an appointment," she stammered, "I'm Clara. Clara Jones." Steve blinked twice. His case. The one he had volunteered Rebecca for. "The waitress," he said. "Yes, of course. Come on in and have a seat. Close the door behind you." Clara Jones was stunning. She was tall, at least 5'10 with shapely legs that went on all day before flaring into shapely but toned hips which along with her round butt were accented perfectly by the tight Capris she had been wearing. Her blouse was dark green yet matched perfectly, and while it was modest and fairly loose fitting it was clear that underneath it she was packing a large pair of breasts that no doubt helped her secure employment at that restaurant in the first place. On top of of it all was a pretty face with high cheekbones and impeccable makeup framed by a very cute shoulder length cut of blonde hair. "I'm a bit surprised," Steve said, "you're not what I was expecting, you're not at all---" "Manly?" Clara supplied. "No," Steve said quickly, feeling embarrassed that he had insulted her a bit "It's ok. Years of hard work and therapy and surgery pretty much make it so that no one can tell the difference. No one knows unless I tell them, and hardly anyone ever needs to know it." "Not the restaurant," Steve said. "Not ANY employer," Clara said firmly, "but nobody there knew anything. I went through the audition perfectly and the manager flirted with me constantly. I was one of the highest tip earners consistently. I was fantastic at that job. There's no way I was fired for cause." "Why did you work there?" Steve asked. "Forgive me but isn't a place like that a little trashy." "Its a lot trashy," Clara said. "But I'm not exactly Ivy League educated and surgeries have left me in a lot of debt. I'm still in a lot of debt. Those tips were great, it made it so I could pay down my debt AND live in a nice apartment." "How did they find out?" Steve asked. "An ex saw me working there, got jealous or spiteful or something. Sent an email to the manager with some old photos, back when I was less convincing. I guess he did some googling and found out what I used to look like." "And he fired you?" Steve said sadly. "Not immediately," Clara said, her voice cracking a bit, "but he did treat me differently. The flirting stopped and I got looks of disgust from him. He told the other girls that worked there too. A few were nice, but nobody confronted me directly. Most felt like I was lying to them and they started cruel pranks. They locked me out of the women's bathroom and started calling me--" Clara looked like she was about to burst into tears at any moment. "It doesn't matter what they called you. That must have been hell," Steve said feeling awful for her "That was the point," Clara sniffed, "to get me to quit. But I wouldn't. They weren't the first people to treat me like that. It went on for a few weeks before my performance review, and it was like I was the worst waitress ever. Every little indiscretion was brought up, even though they applied to literally every other waitress there. I was fired that day." Clara was crying now. Steve handed her a tissue off the desk. "It's ok, this sounds like a slam-dunk. We'll get you restitution AND an apology." Clara looked up at Steve, not exactly convinced. "Why did you take this case?" she asked. "Because its important to end discrimination," Steve said, "because nobody should have to go through what you did and --" "No," Clara interrupted. "Why are YOU on this case?" Steve paused. For a moment he had forgotten that he was wearing the face of one of the most notorious and outspoken conservatives in town, someone who had recently made some very transphobic remarks. "I've said some things recently. Things I didn't mean and didn't understand how they affected people. Things that caused controversy and damage for people like you and I feel very bad about them. I could apologize to you and your whole community until I'm blue in the face but it wouldn't do very much good. Actions speak louder than words, and winning this case could go along way towards making the world a better place" Clara dried her eyes and looked at him, still not completely convinced. "I have no choice to take your word for it. I hope you're sincere, Ms. Madigan." With that she straightened her blouse and left the office, leaving Steve alone in thought. "Who was that?" his old voice asked from the doorway. "Clara Jones," Steve replied, still not used to hearing it from someone else. "The pro bono." Rebecca stretched her neck out into the hall to see if she could get a better glimpse of the beautiful woman who had just left. "That was a guy?" "Years ago, maybe. On the outside," Steve said. "Thats unbelievable," Rebecca said shaking her head. "Really? Steve laughed. "A secret brain switching device put you in a younger man's body but surgery and hormones are unbelievable?" "I will never fully understand that," Rebecca said. "She was a woman in a man's body. You more than most people should understand now," Steve countered. "Maybe," Rebecca said, "but at least when I get mine back it will be the genuine article, not some plastic surgery creation." With that she walked out the door and shut it, leaving Steve shaking his head. "What an insensitive bitch," he said outloud to the empty office. Decades off remarks like that earned her a reputation that he got to deal with because the world thought he was her. What did Martin see in her? From what he could tell the man was a real catch. Kind, helpful, understanding, attentive. That got Steve daydreaming about how attentive Martin had been the night before. By now his qualms about it were gone. In fact Rebecca's insensitivity kind of made him glad he had fooled around with her husband. He wouldn't tell her, and she wouldn't find out. It would just be his little secret screw you to her. Suddenly Steve got an idea that would create a nasty little surprise for Rebecca when she got her body back. 10 "Does it hurt a lot?" Steve asked looking up. "Depends," the technician told him as she finished her prep work. "When was the last time you had this done?" "Umm...Never?" Steve guessed. "Yeah, this will hurt a lot," the tech said before calling something out in Korean. Just then another woman came into the room. "Hold her down," the first woman said, "I don't want to be kicked." The second woman put her hands on Steve knees, holding them firmly apart and down against the table Steve was lying on. It was weird enough lying there spread eagle with his pants and underwear off, but to be restrained made even stranger. He thought about backing out but the tech wouldn't give him the chance. "One. Two. Three," she said loudly and on Three she ripped the paper strips off, pulling with it the wax and all of Rebecca Madigan's pubic hair, and filling the air with one of the loudest screams anyone had ever heard. Steve took a deep breath as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror that evening. When he had first been put in this body it was tired and had been soaking in water for who knows how long. But now he had put some effort into his look. Not "off to work" effort but "I want to be pretty" effort, which was surprisingly not a lot. Rebecca Madigan could be a beautiful woman when she wanted to be. Steve had taken off the business suit and ponytail and instead found some interesting lingerie in the top drawer of the dresser in the closet. It was a soft pink, which complimented his new skin tone perfectly. Steve loved the feeling of sliding the soft stocking up this newly waxed legs and found the snap of the garters sexy against his thighs. He took his time sliding the matching panties on, unsure of the mechanics of a thong but they slid on and up tightly and perfectly, snug and sexy against his crotch. The bra was silky but a bit complicated, and Steve hoped it would be off sooner than later that night. The hardest thing was the hair. Since becoming Rebecca hairstyling for Steve had consisted of getting slightly better and better at ponytails but tonight that wasn't going to work. He wanted to look sexy, but didn't want to experiment with the curling iron in the vanity nor did he have time for a hair appointment. So he spent a few hours brushing and tossing his hair until it fell around his shoulders in a particularly sexy and casual way. He barely recognized the woman in the mirror as Rebecca. She was too soft and inviting, not cold and nasty. He pursed his lips and blew a kiss at the mirror taking a deep breath. Uneasy but quite sure he wanted to do this. He didn't want to think about the psychological implications of what he was about to do, or why he wanted to do it so much. Last night had been one thing. Booze had helped him follow his body's urges and receive amazing pleasure, but tonight he was sober, and he was going to initiate. He left the bathroom and stood in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning against it. Martin was sitting on top of the covers reading something on his tablet. "Ready for bed, honey," Steve said nonchlantly. "Just about," Martin said, "almost done researching some data for my next---"Martin stopped talking as he looked up and saw his wife's body all dolled up. The look of desire on his face made Steve giggle involuntarily. He skipped across the carpet and on to the bed where he put his arms around Martin's neck and kissed him deeply, taking in his scent and feeling his strong arms wrap around him. Ever since becoming Rebecca, Steve had hated how small he felt compared to before, but here he loved it. Having Martin's muscles around him, squeezing him, protecting him, making him feel safe and loved. Martin started kissing his neck softly, clearly appreciating the perfume that he had worn as he ran his hands up and down the silky lingerie. Each stroke caused goosebumps somewhere on Steve's body and anticipation. He almost couldn't take the teasing. Soon the bra was off and Steve once again felt the pleasure of having your breasts and nipples being manipulated by someone who had played with them so many times. Soon Martin's hand found its way to the band of Steve's thong, and after some toying slipped gently down the front, causing him to break his kiss and looking into his lover's eyes with visible desire and surprise. "That's new," he said excitedly, "feeling a bit Brazilian?" "I've been feeling a bit different this week," Steve said with a seductive laugh. "You like?" Martin didn't respond verbally, but rather started softly stroking up and down. Steve could feel the moistness almost instantly, soaking his panties and Martin's hand at the same time. He wrapped his arms tightly around Martin and started breathing heavily, each stroke building more and more pressure. Steve parted his knees slightly more so that Martin could work his fingers in better, entering his wet slit and toying with his clit, preventing Steve from thinking straight, bucking his hips with his eyes closed until he felt it, the poke and soft flannel against his bare stomach. Steve looked down and saw it. Martin's pajama bottoms were sticking out, covering his erection. He stared at it for a moment. Last night it had been locked up in a pair of panties, tucked away for the illusion of femininity. But tonight it was on full display, Martin was all man. Up until this week, the sight of another man's cock would have sickened Steve, but now it was another story. Steve's brain was awash in hormones and focused on one thing, and Martin's cock was the key to it. He reached down the front of his partner's pajamas and grabbed the shaft firmly, but not squeezing. Martin moaned, almost growled as he stroked up and down with a slight twist, feeling the blood pump through it in tune with Martin's heartbeat. Soon his strokes matched the rhythm of Martin's, and they were coming faster and faster, driving both of them insane Finally Steve one last squeeze before looking up at Martin, and with lust in his voice gasped, "I need you inside me." That was all the cue Martin needed, and in almost one fluid motion he had pushed Steve onto his back, taken off his shirt, removed his pants, and climbed on top of his lovers body. Steve legs were spreading almost by themselves, only coming together as Martin pulled the panties off, before spreading wide, awaiting what was coming. Martin expertly kissed Steve's thighs and pussy for a few seconds, but unlike last night he didn't linger. He quickly worked his kisses up Steve's body until he was up at eye level. Looking deep into Steve's eyes, he gasped, "I love you," before kissing him deeply and at the same time plunging his cock into Steve. It was like having a deep and strong itched soothed instantly. All the aching he had felt inside him was gone, replaced by an involuntary convulsion of muscles Steve never knew existed. This was it. He was having sex with a man. Something he had never thought he would try. But any mental inhibitions that might have existed were like blowing into a hurricane. Millions of years of female evolution had won out in this body, and he needed to be fucked. Steve had been on the edge of orgasm even before Martin had entered him, now it felt like every stroke and pump could be the one to send him into bliss. Martin was playing him like a finely tuned instrument, stroking and grabbing various body parts as he humped away. Years of marriage had given him almost a first hand knowledge of his wife's body. He knew where to touch her and how to get her off. It hit him out of nowhere. A tsunami of pleasure washing over him. Every muscle tensing, especially the ones wrapped around Martin's cock. For the second time that day the voice of Rebecca Madigan could be heard screaming, but this time for a much better reason. The tightening had caused Martin to go off as well, and Steve felt something wet and hot splash inside of him while the naked man on top of him moaned, his strokes slowing until finally he fell off of him, breathing heavily. Steve tried to process what he had just done, but as the hormones subsided he was still bathing in the afterglow, and way to worn out to even think. He hugged Martin and rested his head on the man's sweaty chest. Before knew it Steve had fallen asleep that way, with Martin stroking his hair lovingly. 11 "I can't believe it's really you in there," Sonja said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Shh," Steve said, checking to make sure the door was closed. "Be careful what you say in here, we never know if there are eavesdroppers." "It's fine," Sonja said taking a bite of her salad. Her heart aberration had been determined to be just that, and nothing serious or threatening and she was cleared to go back to work, although she had been given the rest of the week off. To the rest of the firm it looked like she was briefing Rebecca on the intricacies of civil rights case law, but in reality she had come to gawk at Steve, seeing if what Fleischman had said was true. "So what's it like?" Sonja asked. "Does the sun burn your skin? Do you feast on small woodland creatures. Is her house a haunted castle?" "Actually you're partially right on the last one," Steve said "That place is huge, and well furnished. She has servants. And a husband too, and he's nice. Way too nice for her." "I've met him a couple of times, at company banquets," Sonja said holding her fork in the air thinking. "Marty or something. Nice guy. He was always polite towards me and Jane, and kept Rebecca from scowling at us too much. I think he's good looking, but I'm not a good judge of that." "He's VERY good looking," Steve said without thinking. Sonja narrowed her eyes and smiled mischievously. "Oh? Care to elaborate?" Steve blushed, looking at the door once more and leaning in to whisper. "Remember the conversation we had at your place? About me and Jane while I was to be in your body?" "She didn't," Sonja gasped. "She gave you permission to have sex with her husband?" "She didn't forbid it..." Steve trailed off. "I did plan on doing it, but I had some wine Tuesday and instinct took over. He's a crossdresser by the way," Steve said trying to change the subject. That just made Sonja laugh at him more. "Congratulations Steve, you've had sex with more men than I have. What was it like?" Steve blushed at that thought, but her question brought him back to the previous night. "Amazing," he said softly. Sonja shook her head and changed the subject and the two friends chatted their way through lunch before Sonja had to get home to help with housework. Seeing her had been a real boost to Steve. Having spent the whole week under deep cover, it was nice to be his own self in front of someone who wouldn't randomly antagonize him. Sonja's visit only made a good day better. Steve had ridden the experience of the previous night into a good mood at work that morning, allowing him to do all the little things around Rebecca's office as well as a ton of research and prep for the Clara Jones case. Sonja's visit and subsequent legal pep talk propelled him into hyperdrive and he was on cloud 9, making real progress on the case...or so he thought... "This is shit," He heard his voice say. It was almost time to go home and his old body was standing in holding a piece of paper. "This strategy memo, the one you filled out with my name on it. It's a pile of shit." "How did you get that?" Steve asked taking the memo from her. "I sent this to one of the other interns to process. You're supposed to be studying." "I've been monitoring everything that comes from this office all week," Rebecca said. "It hasn't been much or anything important, but this is a case. One that I'm going to be doing most of the work on when I get my body back and that strategy is amateur hour." "Sonja thought it was good," Steve defended. "She said that these big companies like to get aggressive in trial and that we should try and be as sympathetic as possible--" "It's not going to trial," Rebecca interrupted. "They won't settle," Steve said annoyed. "They've got a team of excellent lawyers who are going to draw this out as long as possible." "And Clara has one lawyer better than all of them, doing it pro bono. Every day in court costs them more than it costs her. They won't be able to bleed her dry," Rebecca said looking proudly. "They know it too. They know they aren't dealing with some ACLU bleeding heart doing volunteer work. They'll see me listed as counsel and decide to end things as quick as possible, they know they're on the wrong side of things. One of the many benefits of my reputation, which I don't need damaged by bad strategy memos." "Your reputation also makes people hate you," Steve said, knowing she was right. "Small price to pay. Strangers hate me but they also fear me. Disregarding their opinions has made me rich, or have you not seen my house?" she was smirking now "Yeah, yeah, you're the greatest," Steve said sarcastically. "Enjoy looking like me while you still can," Rebecca said jokingly. "By the way, who is Heather Meyers?" Steve's face froze. "A friend. Sort of. We went to high school together. Why?" Rebecca grinned. "She likes you." "Yeah I know," Steve said slowly. "And its not that she isn't a nice girl...and its not that she's....well...." "Fat?" Rebecca volunteered. "Thick..." Steve said diplomatically. "I just don't think of her the same way she thinks of me." "Well you have a date with her," Rebecca said mischievously. "Next weekend. Wear something nice." With that she disappeared out the door. Leaving Steve to fume. That was a dirty trick. It was one thing for him to tease her in private about her life, but for her to make commitments to other people that he would have to keep, well that was out of bounds. He would need to get back at her, and he'd need to do a little digging to think of an apt revenge. 12 Thursday afternoon found Steve in the closet, the large walk in closet in the Madigans' master bedroom filled with more clothes than he had ever seen Rebecca wear and several outfits that might have been worn by either of them at one point. The back wall of the closet had a stack of shoe boxes, most of them filled with shoes but a few of them had other things, papers and mementos and such. Since getting home from work he had gone through the house looking for any evidence of something that might allow him to cause a bit of embarrassment for Rebecca but had so far come up empty after searching the computer directory, the dresser drawers, and underneath the bed. Proof of Martin's crossdressing would no doubt bring a great deal of scandal, but Steve didn't feel comfortable exploiting it. Sure Rebecca would be embarrassed but Martin would be downright humiliated, and Steve had grown to like and respect his temporary husband, not just as a companion but as a person, and couldn't do something like that to a good man. Something on the top closet shelf caught Steve's eyes. He had to stand on the tip of his new toes and stretch his arms up to reach it but he was able to pull down the box. It wasn't a shoebox, although it was the size of one. It was made out of wood and painted pink with the name "Claudia" written on the lid. Steve took the box out of the closet and into the bedroom where he sat on the bed and opened it. Inside was a pair of pink baby slippers, a rattle, a hospital bracelet, and a small pink headband with a bow. Underneath all of these was a photo album with a plain pink cover. The first picture was of Rebecca, and based on her apparent age and style of her hair and clothes Steve guessed it was taken around ten years ago. In the photo Rebecca was smiling more brightly than he had ever seen her smile before and holding her hands against her stomach tightly cradling a slight bump. As he thumbed through the album the pictures showed the bump progressing in size, as did all of Rebecca, especially her smile. There were a few from a baby shower and finally the last photo showed Rebecca in a hospital bed looking blissfully exhausted cradling an infant. This was something new. Rebecca had made absolutely no mention of a child. Had she given it up for adoption? Was it born out of wedlock? Was the father someone else besides Martin? This had all the makings of a scandal and Steve was about to look at the rest of the items in the shoebox when Martin appeared in the doorway. "Dinner will be done in about--" Martin paused when he saw the shoebox open and got a sad look on his face before sitting down next to Steve and putting his arm around him. "I usually miss her a lot around this time of year too," he said softly. "I went to see her the other day, while you were at work." "You did?" Steve asked playing along and trying to mask the curiosity in his voice. "How did that go?" "Very peaceful," Martin said softly. "I made sure she had some fresh flowers. The headstone is really beautiful, just like she was." Steve felt the color drain from his borrowed face. The had had, and lost, a daughter. Steve looked down at the woman in the photo album. Her happiness was infectious in every photo in a way Steve had never seen in person. Usually the woman from the photos was scowling or frowning and if she did smile it was vindictive and smug. He turned his head to the mirror on the nightstand and saw that same face with a third expression: shock. All he could think about were the words he had said to Rebecca that day they had swapped bodies; it's a good thing you don't have kids, they'd turn out to be psychopaths. She had used her now stronger hands to slap him across the face for that one. It had stung for two hours afterwards, but knowing what he knew now Steve thought his words must have stung a lot harder. Martin picked up on Steve's mood and put his arm around his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. "You were a great Mom," he said softly, kissing him on the top of the head. "She knew that." Martin gave him one last hug before standing up and leaving the room. "Dinner's ready whenever you are," he said, leaving Steve to reflect on things as if this was something Rebecca did herself from time to time. The shocked, sad, numbness that Steve had felt over this child he had never known had stayed with him into a night of soft cuddling followed by a day of zoning out and not being able to adequately focus not only on work, but on the charade of pretending to be Rebecca, and a few people had noticed the slightly odd behavior, including Rebecca herself. "You're slipping," she said coming into the office sometime after lunch "You're being a little to nice and a lot too inattentive, it's very out of character. I know it's Friday but you need to keep focused while we enter the home stretch. Just a few more---" She paused as Steve was staring at her with a look that conveyed both sadness and pity. "What the the hell is up with you today?" she asked. "I found the shoebox," Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper. "About Claudia." He watched his old face go stone still for about ten seconds. No visible emotion other than the building of anger in the eyes. "How dare you," she said, her voice cracking and trembling. Steve could see the beginnings of tears welling up. "What on earth made you think you had the right to go through my things and find something so personal?!" "Its nothing to be ashamed about," Steve said. "I'M NOT ASHAMED," she whisper-screamed as she stood up. "You've gone to far. I'm going home before I do something I regret. "But the studying--" Steve began. "I have half a mind to bomb the exam," Rebecca hissed. "Just to be rid of you. Even if Fleischmann shitcans me." With that she stormed out. Steve sat back in his comfortable office chair, somehow feeling worse than before. However bad he felt about Claudia, Rebecca must have felt infinitely worse. Being reminded of it had understandably set off some sort of nerve, and now Steve might have jeopardized his career because of it. This past week inside this body could very well be for nothing. 13 The dread that Steve had felt stayed with him for the rest of the work day and followed him home, leading to a quiet dinner and an early bed time. Martin seemed to sense the mood and didn't press the issue, making Steve think that Rebecca was normally prone to moods like this. His dreams that night were a welcome distraction. They weren't anything out of the ordinary but they were of him in his original body. Saturday morning came without and alarm clock and Steve was able to stay in bed and try to dream his worries out of his mind. Ultimately he'd love to go into a coma for the weekend and wake up Monday morning to his appointment to switch back, but that wasn't to be. Around 2 pm the sun was beaming brightly into the bedroom and Martin strode brightly to the bedside and shook Steve awake. "Enough beauty sleep, sweetie," he said. "Lupe will be here in an hour to work on your hair and makeup so you should probably shower." He laid a long dry cleaning bag on the bed and yanked the comforter off, exposing Steve's bare legs to the warm air. Steve had no idea what Martin was talking about but from the sound of it there was some sort of party. "I don't wanna go," he said groggily, "I feel sick." "I know. I know. You're too modest for these things," Steve said pulling out a bra and panties from the drawer and laying them on top of the dry cleaning bag "But this isn't really for you, its for the whole foundation and they'll feel bad if you don't show up to the party they're throwing for you." Martin went downstairs to leave Steve wondering just what the hell was in store for him tonight. Rebecca had made no mention of a party but from the looks of the dress in the dry cleaning bag this was a fancy affair. He pulled out a cell phone and called his old number but it went straight to voice mail. Of course it did. Right now Rebecca was in his body taking the bar exam. That was comforting to know that at least she didn't blow it off altogether. Steve began searching the bedroom for clues and eventually found an invitation on the nightstand. "3rd Annual Benefit for the Children's Heart Disease Foundation," it read with the pertinent time and place and at the bottom it read "Guest of Honor: Rebecca Madigan". Great. She was getting some sort of award and that meant she pretty much HAD to go. With a sigh Steve stripped and headed to the shower. After he was all washed and dried off he stepped into the fancy lace bra and panties Martin had laid out for him just in time for there to be a knock on the bedroom door. Steve put a robe on and answered it, finding the maid standing there, in street clothes, holding a large makeup case. "Lupe," Steve guessed, finally figuring out the maid's name. "Thanks for doing this." "No problem, Senora," Lupe said with a smile. "We both know you're hopeless when it comes to these things." Lupe sat Steve down in a chair in the bathroom, facing away from the mirror and began working on his hair. Vigorous blow drying, brushing, and eventually curling gave wait to spraying and setting before Lupe seemed satisfied with her handiwork. It took almost an hour and a half but felt like four times as long to Steve as he sat there having to hold still, making small talk with this woman he barely knew. If stillness was required to have his hair done, getting the makeup right required a statue. Everything Steve had studied on the internet to try and look pretty for Martin the other night seemed like amateur hour compared to the arsenal of cosmetics that Lupe had in her case. For at least an hour she attacked Martin's face with blush, lipstick, eyeshadow, eyelash curler, eyebrow pencil and a couple of other instruments Steve wasn't sure the purpose of. Just when he was starting to lose feeling in his feet Lupe smiled and said, "All done," before turning the chair around and giving Steve a look in the mirror. "Breathtaking," was all he could say when he saw himself. The normally tight, professional, bun of hair had been teased and tossed into a sea of curls that framed his face perfectly. A face that normally scowled at interns and struck fear into the hearts of opposing counsel was painted in a manner that highlighted the underlying beauty of this woman. Steve smiled and in doing so managed to make his face even prettier. Lupe was well aware of her handiwork and was packing up when Steve thanked. "It's my pleasure, Senora," she said as she was leaving. "I'm glad I can make you look nice when they give you your award for all the good that you do." As Lupe was leaving Martin was coming in, dressed in a tuxedo. He grinned excitedly when he saw her. "She always does such a great job," he beamed, "I love the color scheme this time. It really makes your eyes pop and will totally go amazing with the dress. And the shoes...I know just the shoes..." As Martin dug through the closet Steve smirked at this man who knew so much about fashion. Of course it stood to reason, considering the likelihood that he had probably experimented with the makeup and shoes on himself at some point. When Martin emerged from the closet with a pair of blue thin strapped stilettos he placed them on the bed before holding up the dry cleaning bag. "Let's get you into this," he said pulling out a long blue evening gown. The silky soft material clung tightly to Steve's curves as he stepped into the dress and slowly navigated it upwards. When he got his shoulders into hit Martin went behind him to zip it, and Steve had to suck in a little bit to get the zipper to go up. "Did they shrink this?" Martin asked with an air of irritation in his voice. "They must have," Steve said with matching annoyance as he remembered Rebecca's detailed workout regimen that she had given him and how he had totally ignored it for the past week. Was a week long enough to make clothes fit incorrectly? Maybe or middle aged women it was. "Even more beautiful than usual," Martin said when she was zipped up and strapped into his shoes. With a kiss on the forehead Martin headed downstairs. "The Limo's here, we don't want to be too late." Steve followed gingerly, stepping slowly and trying not to fall down the steps in the tiny heeled shoes. The Gala was held at the grand ballroom of the nicest hotel in the city. Steve walked in clutching Martin's arm tightly partially out of nerves but also to stabilize himself in the heels. Once they were in the door there was a sea of men in tuxedos and women in dresses of similar fancy to the one he was wearing, and all of them wanted to shake Steve's hand and congratulate him. Steve simply smiled and faked his way through, not knowing which ones he was supposed to know and which ones he was simply being polite to. When a waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, he grabbed one and drank it down in one shot, having it hit his taste buds just long enough for him to realize that it must be expensive stuff. The food was equally expensive, although a good portion of the cost was to raise money for the charity. Someone in passing mentioned that it was 500 dollars a plate to get in that night, although as guest of honor he had been spared that fee. However once dinner started he and Martin didn't sit down at one of the tables, but rather up on the dais surrounded by other charity board members and honorees. From that perspective he could look out on the entire event, and although they weren't all watching him, it sure felt like it. Another glass of champagne helped immensely. Dinner was kobe beef, which looked exactly like a regular steak but some how tasted magnificently better. Of all the things about being Rebecca that annoyed him, Steve decided that he was going to miss being rich. Once dinner had started an emcee came to the podium and began talking about the foundation with a few lame inside jokes about its board members that made the room laugh. Steve forced a giggle, not knowing any of those people and thus unable to get the jokes, but a couple more glasses of champagne made him a bit giggly naturally. Soon the emcee introduced one of the people sitting nearby on the dais, and they came up and talked about the foundation and all the work that they've done for children and one by one everyone sitting up there did mostly the same, all of them touting the charity's accomplishments and all of them saying something nice about Rebecca which always got a round of applause. All Steve could do was sip champagne to hide the smirk he got thinking about what his co-worker could really be like. Steve was maybe 6 or 7 glasses deep when much to his surprise the emcee said "And now for the woman of the hour, our guest of honor and top donor to the Children's Heart Disease Foundation: Rebecca Madigan." The room erupted to thunderous applause and this time every eye WAS on Steve, all of them standing. Martin leaned over and nudged her towards the empty podium. "Go give your speech," he whispered. Speech. What speech? Had there been one prepared or was she just going to wing it? Didn't matter now, it was going to have to be improv. Steve almost rolled his ankle as he stood up in the heels, dizzy from the booze and wobbly from inexperience. He slowly made his way to the podium, occasionally placing his hand on the shoulders of another guest to stabilize himself. When he made it to the podium he hunched over it and leaned into the microphone before letting out a drunken cackle at how absurd this whole thing was. The room quieted down and it was then that Steve noticed the camera in the back, taping the proceedings. "I forgot my speech," he began. The room laughed at the apparent joke. "No seriously, I didn't fuckin expect any of this." There were gasps and and few chuckles as the audience realized that he was drunk. "This," Steve said holding up the plaque he had been handed, "is a pretty award. And I do not deserve it. Seriously, I don't. If you really knew me you'd agree. I can be a bitch." The room was now half cringing and have laughing. "But I have lots of money, and I give some to help kids, so I guess I'm not all bad. Thanks for the food. And the champagne." Steve hobbled back to his chair to the sound of awkward applause and the view of the room spinning as the champagne caught up to him. 14 Steve didnt remember the last half hour of the gala, nor did he remember Martin helping him back to the limo and then upstairs to get undressed and then breaking his fall as he blacked out on the bed. That was where he regained consciousness, alone in a room with midday sunlight streaming in burning his retinas as they adjusted. His mouth was dry from a long sleep without any water as well as the alcohol contributing to dehydration. He was still a bit dizzy and a little sick to his stomach with a splitting headache and ears that wouldn't stop ringing. Ding dong. Ding Dong DING DONG--- Those weren't his ears. That was the doorbell. "Martin," he shouted in a cracked voice, hoping that the man of the house was near enough to hear. However when he answered neither Steve nor the doorbell it became clear that hangover or not, it was time to wake up. Steve sat up in bed, hair still curled from the night before falling in his face, his breasts flying free against the cool air signaling he wasn't wearing anything but a pair of panties. Steve gingerly got out of the bed, put on a robe and made it to the door. Standing on the stoop was himself... his body...Rebecca. "What the hell happened to you?" she asked in a different voice but with the familiar judgmental tone. "Shh," Steve said, "not so loud. I have a hangover and Martin might hear you." For a moment panic set in. "Why aren't you at the exam?!" "I finished early," Rebecca said pushing him aside and entering her house. "And Martin isn't going to be home until later. Sundays he does volunteer work with the church men's club." Steve followed Rebecca into the kitchen where she was filling a glass with water "Drink this, it will help with the hangover," she said before sitting down at the kitchen table. "Oh shit, the charity event, I totally forgot to tell you about that. How'd it go? My speech was saved on the computer, I'm assuming you found it since you didn't call me about it." "No, I didn't find it," Steve stammered, not fully cognizant of what he had said instead. "But I think it went well enough anyway. What about the exam?" he asked eagerly changing the subject and gulping down the glass of water. "Piece of cake, just like I promised you and Fleischmann," Rebecca said confidently. "The last time I saw you," Steve recalled. "You were promising to tank the test to spite me." "About that," Rebecca began, "I'm sorry for flying off the handle. You just struck a nerve. A very raw nerve that I wasnt expecting to be struck." "Honestly it's my fault," Steve said. "If I had known about..." He trailed off. "Claudia," Rebecca finished for him, "well it happened years ago, before I was working at the firm, and I don't really talk about it with work people, so you had no way of knowing." "I'm really sorry it happened," Steve said. "Whatever it was that happened." "Congenital heart defect," Rebecca explained with a twinge of sadness. "When she was about three weeks old. There was no way to see it coming." "That explains the large donations to the Children's Heart Foundation," Steve said. "Among other things," Rebecca said, "it really was a miracle that we had her anyway. Martin and I had fertility issues, so conception was a major long shot." Steve could see her looking down as she talked about this, so he went over to the other side of the table and put an arm around his old body. In a surprising move, Rebecca didn't immediately push it away. "I haven't forgotten her, nor am I ashamed like you suggested," she said. "It's just that I have a mindset at work and being reminded of her kind of undoes all that." "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to be a little sensitive at work," Steve suggested. "You say that," Rebecca said, "but you're normally in this body. This large body that people automatically give a little respect to just by looking at it. Not to mention in a politically correct workplace. When I was coming up, 15 years ago or so, it was a man's world and being a woman meant often being dismissed unfairly. Any sign of weakness or sensitivity contributed to that." "I'd say times have changed," Steve countered, "in the past week I haven't experienced anything like that." "That's because you look like me specifically," Rebecca explained. "You've got a face attached to a long earned reputation. If you were a perky blonde first year graduate things would be different. Seriously, see how some of those jackass associates of ours treat the interns. Its disgusting." "Never pegged you for a feminist," Steve mused. "There's feminist activism and there's feminism by accomplishment," Rebecca said. "And you saw my office wall," Rebecca checked her cell phone and stood up "Martin will be home soon...so you should probably get dressed and at least put a bra on." Steve chuckled "He saw them last night when-" "I don't want to hear it," Rebecca interrupted putting her hands up. Steve suspected that she was aware that he had done things with her husband but didn't want to confirm it, so he wasn't going to press the issue. "I'll see you tomorrow morning," Steve said, "and you can have these back, slightly used." Rebecca jokingly put her hands over her ears before heading down the driveway. 15 Steve stood naked in front of the full length mirror in the secret laboratory beneath Mayfield Neurological. After a week of looking it this form was no longer foreign or scary but actually a bit familiar and pleasant when he thought about all the things he had done with it. Even the face that had struck fear in his heart seemed more affable. Amy stood next to him, preparing the equipment for the swap back. "So you had a week to be older and female," she said, "I hope you learned something." "I learned a lot of things," Steve said, running his hands over his smooth form one last time, "and not just about being in a woman's" "Well I hope you at least learned a little about that," Amy joked. "Tell me you had sex at least once, or even just an orgasm." Steve blushed visibly at that and Amy smiled back "Just remember the basics of that, and your future girlfriends will thank you." She held up the respirator mask. "All set?" Steve nodded and was strapped to the gurney and his senses dulled before being placed into the water filled chamber. The cold water making his nipples hard was the last thing he remembered in the body of Rebecca Madigan. Youth and strength were like a drug to Steve's brain after being in his old body once again. It took a few seconds for his nerves to get used to it again, but once they did it felt familiar and it felt amazing. He was stretching and flexing his muscles as Amy was prodding and poking him and checking his vitals. "All clear," she said handing him a robe "You're free to go into the other room and get dressed, and I'd do so soon to hide that new ink of yours." "What?" Steve said looking in the mirror. Amy motioned for him to turn around and he saw just above his buttocks on his lower back a very elaborate and very effeminate tattoo of a butterfly. Steve's jaw dropped he hastily put on his robe and stormed into the debriefing room. There he saw Rebecca already in her own body wearing a bathrobe and drying off her wet hair. "A TRAMP STAMP?!" he yelled. "You tattooed me?" Rebecca busted out laughing. "I had forgotten about that," she said, "I got that on the first day. It's a fake one. A long lasting fake one though, it should be gone in about a week." Steve reached back and rubbed the area hoping it would rub off. "Scared the hell out of me." "Oh like you didn't take cosmetic liberties in this body," Rebecca said. "Or did you think I wouldn't notice the sudden disappearance of my pubic hair." "Yeah that hurt like hell actually," Steve said as he went through his clothes to begin getting dressed. "At least you knew yours wasn't permanent. It'll grow back." "In time maybe," Rebecca said, looking downwards thoughtfully. "Although I might try this for awhile..it's not bad..." "Martin seemed to like it," Steve teased. "LALALALAA," Rebecca said. "That reminds me though," she reached into her purse, "this was left in here by the tech that worked with you." She handed Steve a business card on it that aid Amy Chang, Neurological Technician with a phone number below it. On the back was written "Show me what you learned sometime," Steve put on his pants and then put it in his pocket before shaking hands with Rebecca and heading back to his old familiar home. Epilogue: 3 years later "Do you want a beer?" Sonja asked Rebecca and Steve as she stood up. Both of them nodded as Sonja headed off to the cooler. "Do you think that's a good idea?" Steve teased his friend and coworker. "I know your tolerance, it can be embarrassingly low." Rebecca stuck his tongue out at him and tossed a piece of hotdog at the full time environmental law associate at her firm. "I'll be fine," she assured him, "I won't be making another youtube sensation like before. I can't believe that video got 3 million hits." "What video?" Steve's fiancee asked coming over and sitting next to them at the picnic table. It was the first annual company picnic of the recently renamed law firm of Fleischmann, Baxter, Madigan, and Jacobs and all the lawyers and their family were enjoying a cookout in a local park. "Something with a cat," Steve told his future wife, Heather. "Rebecca doesn't appreciate cats." "How could you not?" Heather asked incredulously, although it was teasing. Heather only knew of Rebecca as Steve's friend from work, despite the fact that Rebecca was responsible for setting her and Steve up with that first date. What had initially just been a courtesy had turned into a great time leading to a series of dates and eventually to a really fun relationship that turned into love. While Steve had Rebecca to thank for his success in love, she had him to thank for her professional success. The Clara Jones case had made national headlines and Rebecca was on every news show representing her client with poise and aplomb, and not the vitriol and controversy she had previously been known for. As she had predicted, the case was settled out of court for 6 figures and a lot of good press for the firm. That combined with a generally more affable workplace nature that Rebecca herself attributed to spending a week as a lowly intern eventually led to her being named full partner. A moment later Sonja returned, carrying a round of beers with Martin to help carry them. "She's more of a dog person," Martin said of his wife giving her a loving peck on the cheek. "Even though she's allergic." "How did I not know that?" Steve asked wide eyed. "Why would you need to?" Martin wondered. "In case we ever got one and brought it over," Steve said, referring to the visits to the Madigan home that he and Heather often made for couples night, as well as Steve hanging out with Martin alone. They had turned into pretty good friends, having got along so well, even with the underlying weirdness of their sexual history in the back of Steve's mind. "Tell me there's one of those for me," Sonja's wife Jane said referring to the beers as she waddled over and sat down, rubbing her very pregnant belly. The previous year Sonja had won a landmark pay equity ruling and she too was rewarded with a naming partnership. To celebrate she and Jane decided to start a family, after a little arguing over who would carry the child. "Should you really be drinking?" Steve asked cautiously. "Not excessively," Jane said a little irritated. "But this far along one beer won't hurt. And I can't describe how sore I am all the time. A beer would feel amazing." "Sorry," Steve said, trying to quell the emotions of the lately moody Jane. "I'm not exactly experienced with pregnancy first hand. "No," Rebecca whispered with a giggle. "But you could be...."