The Changeling - the Switch

The Changeling - The Switch -- Hidden Zone Pt. 03

Looking around the chipped paint and broken tiles of the women's locker room in the roadside gym, Clarisse my corpulent editor took a breath. Only minutes before, Clarisse and my sparring partner Maggie Dowd had struck the deal which allowed me to assume Maggie Dowd's identity to apply for a job at The Puzzle Palace whose webcast transmitted soft porn as an artform. "I guess this eh--store front gym for our early Sunday mornings meetups will have to do," Clarisse grimaced as she looked around, "Couldn't we find a more dignified meeting place for weekly monitoring of the progress of your investigation?"

I gulped. That was my greatest fear: Clarisse's meticulous nature and her proclivity to micromanage this investigation. Oh, I had other fears, but the capacity to become Maggie Dowd and slip into her character was not among them. My resemblance to Maggie Dowd was so close that we could have been twins. I had every confidence I could assume her identity to apply for a job at The Puzzle Palace.

Justifying her financial demand, Maggie Dowd boasted, "Your reporter Margie Keating is such a dead ringer for me that our mothers couldn't tell us apart. Even our names are a close match. To penetrate the impervious target your legend must be impermeable."

"Let me see for sure," Clarisse roared, "Margie, Maggie, quickly, towels off. Into the showers, ladies! You say you two present the virtual congruence of kissing cousins or twins. Stand buck naked back-to-back." To answer the protest in my glare, Clarisse reminded me of the need for certainty "not only because of great deal of money involved," and with gritted teeth, Clarisse added a churlish snicker, " but also for your own protection."

"How I hate those words! The phrase `for your own protection,'" I, casting aside my towel, rose to comply with a snarl, "justifies the arbitrary arrests and detentions and many other governmental excesses of our time."

As annoyed as I was at Clarisse's capriciousness, I felt a sudden excitement as Maggie and I took up position, her muscular butt, toned by vigorous exercise, brushing up against mine, Maggie quipped, "Where you're headed, there is no forbidden zone. You have to get used to being examined under the microscope fully exposed. Just part of the job."

Circling around us Clarisse acknowledged she was suitably impressed, "Everything seems to match up, nicely." Taking an opportunity to tease my nipple in the process, Clarisse chuckled, "Devil made me do it. You say you two met boxing in this gym to work off excess energy."

The gym where Maggie and I sparred provided me with a convenient place for me to work off frustration. I justified the gym as a meeting place for Clarisse's monitoring my progress in the investigation. "This gym is a hidden gem," I protested. "Where else could we meet unobserved to discuss progress in penetrating whatever hidden secret lies beyond the palisades which protect The Puzzle Palace?"

"A gem indeed! Truly a sanitized zone hidden away from," Clarisse, looking around, exclaimed, "everything except filth, squalor, dirt, and disease -- and I'm only speaking of the condition of the male patrons."

"The men here are eh--rough and ready," I admitted, "but they do respect the women's locker as The Forbidden Zone. Besides I'm not sure that the risk of detection undertaken and potential consequences assumed in inserting myself into The Puzzle Palace are worth ignoring real problems society faces in favor of a crusade to prevent sexploitation of starlets who are paid handsomely."

It may have taken a great deal of energy given the flab on her body, but my editor Clarisse shrugged off my complaint, "Reality sucks. It has become the new Hidden Zone. We push out of sight wars that can't be won yet can't be lost, vanished freedoms which are honored in their breach, and enforced servitude called voluntary so that the daily drudge doesn't disconcert us." Clarisse my editor declared. "Life is a series of compromises to make a living."

"Well paid actresses perform in The Puzzle Palace's popular webcast," I was perplexed, "Which we would condemn as profiteering because it peddles perfumed porn as an artform. Are we any better twisting their spice into profiteering to sell copy of our magazine? Are you sure we aren't in the same business as TPP?"

Tapping me on my knee, Clarisse rose to enter the showers, "See you in a week."

"You're awful confident TPP will give me the job," were my parting words.

What I feared the most in giving up a relationship with my husband and normal family life to venture into TPP's security conscious glass and steel tower was Clarisse's capacity to interfere in the investigation. Clarisse was correct that TPP's meteoric rise from the obscurity of a webcast filmed in an unheated garage to prominence must conceal an interesting hidden story. How far TPP would go to keep that story untold was the question.

From the moment I left Clarisse in the lockers, my foray into TPP's world of spice was a step into a whirlwind.

As time on a dreary, drizzly Sunday afternoon ticked away to make the cloak and dagger switch with Maggie Dowd whose identity I'd borrow to seek employment with TPP, my husband James departed from his typical inertia suddenly grabbed my hand to drag me to our bed. "Let me leave my panties on," I chuckled as I carefully mounted James, "We only have time for some fooling around and dry humping." Leaning over James, I dangled my tits in his face before I dragged them across his chest, when unexpectedly James ripped my panties off and threw the shreds across the room.

I gasped. Recovering my breath, I yelled, "James, I'm ready to be fucked. Point your dip -- stick, ram it in my crank case. I need to be fucked so hard that I'll be a good girl while I'm away." After James erupted, I left to shower, as Jim nodded off into a refractory phase. "Testosterone surge has crashed," I smirked as I turned away. A good stiff fuck once a week ought to keep James happy enough.

As I douched myself in the shower, James threw open the shower door. Twirling me around pinioned my arms above my head, James forced my face against the cool damp walls of the shower and drilled deeper inside with his throbbing appendage.

The switch in the parking lot was made an hour later, I, transforming into Maggie Dowd's persona, now held real Maggie's pocketbook, her keys and her car. That night I would sleep in Maggie's bed.

I was concerned about living in the same house with a man. Maggie's husband Jim would remain and move into a small adjacent room which served as his studio.

"Jim," the real Maggie assured me as I hesitated to give her oral sex while Jim filmed the encounter, "is not a threat. When your posed for your photo spread, you became his model. Naked models belong in Jim's forbidden zone; Jim keeps the relationship professional. To Jim, nudity is not only natural but neutral, neither suggesting nor inviting sex."

To all appearances, once I moved in, Maggie's husband Jim became my husband. The morning of the interview at the Puzzle Palace, I awoke in the real Maggie's bed. From her wardrobe, I selected a conservative business ensemble, a black skirt, a white top, a black one button jacket from Maggie's closet. The interview with Mr Erickson, the CEO went well. Erickson was particularly impressed with "the exceptional control Jim had displayed" in taking moving pictures of me with another woman.

Invited to watch a tapping of the webcast before a live audience, I was required by Estelle an elderly female employee to disrobe in the Visitor's Lounge. "TPP needs to appraise your physique before considering acquiring rights to it. No need to be shy. An actress applying for employment as a contestant on a strip game show must be by definition a natural exhibitionist." With my clothes neatly folded on the bench, I presented for inspection with arms crossed over my chest.

Brushing aside my arms to inspect my breasts, Estelle complimented, "Good coloring in your tits," She waved a finger around my nipples, "Your nips should show up nicely on camera." Giving my body the once over, Estelle reported, "Skin clear, free of tattoos, discoloration, and cellulite." Felling my tummy, Estelle commented, "firm, no stretch marks." Issued "appropriate attire," I was ordered to hurry. Mr Erickson was waiting in the auditorium.

From the gallery, I watched the taping with the CEO. Below us the game began. The Emcee jumped onto the stage to begin this introduction, "Welcome to the Puzzle Palace. For those of you unfamiliar with the game, above the stage," he pointed to a large computer board, "is the puzzle. There are 26 squares. Beneath are the lecterns," he pointed to the three podiums on stage, "where the contestants stand. Now let`s bring out the contestants. Let the games begin!"

Out followed three starlets all exquisitely dressed in expensive suits, ensembles, and dresses. They were followed by men dressed in open vests and thongs.

The Emcee announced the starlets, "She's been stripped to her skivvies but she always manages to pull her socks up, the reigning queen of the Puzzle Palace, Adrienne." Out strode Adrienne in her flowing dark gown with a bright smile and a wave to the audience. On the computer board above the stage, Adrienne's image faded into a silhouette first revealing her underwear with click here, then her shoes, and finally her dress.

As an aside Erickson advised me, "We do have to sell our merchandise to stay on the web."

The Emcee continued: "Adrienne is accompanied by her husband, Tom," Emcee called for Tom. "Tom will act as Ms Adrienne's chamberlain." Tom emerged from the curtain behind Adrienne's counter. His open thigh length white vest reached to his thighs over a black spandex thong with an exaggerated bulge. On the screen there appeared the naked image of hairy Tom wearing only a chastity belt.

After the other contestants and their chamberlains entered the stage, the Emcee announced the rules.

"Men as you can see are decoration in the webcast," Mr Erickson whispered, "From a fold in the curtain, the husband or boyfriend stands tall in thigh length vests, in grey girly looking soft ankle length boots and black thongs over a chastity device. A chain hung around their necks holds the key to their chastity belts. The chamberlain can wager the key to keep their wife or girlfriend in the game if she loses all her clothes."

"I wonder how that would work with my guy," I thought aloud, "though at times he can get carried away on a testosterone surge, James--Jim tends to be a `shy breeder' too cerebral so much in love with his own artistic talent to pay much attention to sex."

"That's hard to believe you're describing the same person. Jim," Mr Erickson reminded me, "had photographed a steamy reel with you and another woman."

"Like two completely different people? Dr Jeckyll and Mr Hyde, perhaps," I smiled at the hidden duplicity in my suggestion. Of course, Maggie's Jim and my James were two different people, but that fell into the hidden zone.

As the game proceeded one contestant was left only in her heels. Mr Erickson waved his hand across his throat and the Emcee announced, "take 10." As the guests in the audience filed down a stairway that led to the first-floor reception area for wine tasting, Erickson spoke to the Emcee in a fold of curtain near my seat. Erickson's charcoal suit merged with the dark curtains along the side of the auditorium. Only the faded blond hair of the studio executive betrayed his presence. "A few questions pared the bark off that silly honey blonde Rachel and the other two are in full costumes. You have to fully whittle at the other two. We have to keep the audience engaged. Lead Adrienne into some saucy remarks."

Called back from the short break, the audience in their finery thumped back up the stairs into the narrow gallery. The Emcee chatted with the contestants: "You each acknowledge at times engaging in enforced chastity with your husbands, how do you get your husband back in the harness after you've had some fun?"

After shaking her head at her rival's answers, Adrienne replied in a soft voice, "At times, we practice total abstinence." Adrienne paused and studied the audience. "I don't see male chastity as an issue of dominance or control. Sex should be fun for both men and women."

"If there is no dominance in the act of immobilizing the male's rocket, what's the point?" The Emcee joked.

"Temporary celibacy," Adrienne replied softly, "is a means of conserving the pure ferocity of the male's energy and harnessing it for maximum output." She looked down and reflected. "I like being taken and thoroughly drilled by him until both of us slip off each other bathed in sweat."

"If your husband is worked up," The Emcee prodded Adrienne, "how do you ground the rocket ship and scrub future missions indefinitely?"

"Afterwards, I give him a warm bath and I gently tease his penis to make sure I've reaped whatever energy is there." Adrienne paused. "Then I shave his pubic hair, dry him and latch on the ball and cock restraints. We make a date, there and then for our next encounter for love -- making." With a batting of the lashes, she added, "`Till then he can only dream."

When the game resumed, Adrienne went bare chested at the question what Latin pagan title was carried over into the Christian Era?

The Emcee referred Adrienne's answer, the Pope, to the Judges who ruled against her. The audience went into a spontaneous uproar, when Tom came up behind her unclasped her bra and yanked it off her shoulders. A red-faced Adrienne instinctively covered her breasts with her arms. At the direction of the Emcee, Tom moved Adrienne's arms to her sides.

During an intermission in filming the game show Puzzle Palace, I was led into the dressing room "to meet the girls and learn more about the studio operations that I'd like to become a part of." Back stage Adrienne, the ash blond reigning star of the show, sat in a sheer silver robe in front of a mirror. "Our reigning Queen Adrienne!" Mr Erickson, quoting the Emcee, made the introduction, "The beauty who finds herself stripped to her skivvies but who always manages to cling to the waist band of her panties!"

Off stage during an intermission, a sheer, shimmering silver ankle length robe was knotted at Adrienne's narrow waist. Black mesh stocking legs jutted out of the robe as she peered in the mirror in thought. When I approached, she turned to me. The robe hung loosely fit over her chest revealing a profile of a rounded breast, off white with that same yellowish tinge of her arms and neck, definitely no swimsuit lines there.

"Tough call on that question, `what Latin title of the chief pagan priest of the Roman state religion was carried over into the Christian Era?'" I told her.

"I appreciate your support, honey," A dreamy look came over Adrienne's face.

"Not just me, I heard some boos from the audience." I encouraged Adrienne.

"But, listen to the question: Latin title. I gave an English version, technically incorrect. Maggie, dearie, it's theatre," Adrienne smiled as her blue eyes stared into mine, "the audience pays to see a fabulous woman plucked to her skin. The further you go along with the act, the more you find yourself willing to do," Adrienne sighed and glanced at Rachel, one of the other contestants, carefully studying her face in the mirror. Rachel's dark knee socks made an interesting contrast with her tightly wrapped silver robe.

"You're paid well, darlin`," Adrienne reflected, "just to get undressed on stage and then come in the back to demurely lay around all covered up. Think on that when you make it to the set."

Interviewed the following day at the Puzzle Palace, my faux husband Jim presented his portfolio to Mr Erickson upstairs in the Executive Suite at The Puzzle Palace while I waited downstairs at the circular reception desk on the first floor. On the drive to The Puzzle Palace, Jim allayed one of my fears, "I'm out of work. I'm more interested in my art than being reactivated. I'll say what I have to get the employment certificate to avoid reactivation."

What had Maggie said of Jim? "Jim lost his nerve. He wants to pursue the beauty in life; he doesn't want to be reminded of what secures that beauty. Besides like me, Jim was in intelligence and understands the virtue of being `a man of few words.'"

Escorting, Jim on return to the lobby, Mr Erickson, announced, "You're in," Mr Erickson congratulated me. "Now, I told Jim, like I told you yesterday. Everyone starts learning every aspect of the back - stage work. You, Mr Dowd, start in housekeeping. Mrs Dowd, you'll start in laundry. Tonight, but first, I'll take you to security for some pre -- employment forms and then they'll send you to the fourth floor for a medical exam."

"Medical exam?" I questioned.

"Routine," assured Mr Erickson, "to see if your body can withstand the demands of the job."

After filling out employment applications, confidentiality and standard of conduct agreements, Jim and I were whisked away by security to the 4th floor medical office.

Upstairs behind the counter on the fourth floor was Adrienne, the star of the show, dressed in a starched white uniform. Intense lighting over her station emphasized her skin's lemonish tinge. "Are you really a nurse or is this part of your act?" I asked. Even in a white Nurse's uniform with her ash blond hair gathered in a starched cap, Adrienne was magnificent. Her makeup accentuated her perfect cheek bones and her firm jaw.

"Oh," Adrienne laughed, "Unfortunately yes." She pointed to her name tag, "Adrienne Rodgers, RN, "On those days I'm not on stage, I work here. I assist Dr Kendrick. The work behind the scenes makes the glamour on camera possible. Everyone at TPP contributes to the back -- stage effort. My part is here in the med lab."

There were more forms, first medical history. I gulped as I checked NO for previous pregnancies or abortions. I had no external stretch marks or scars, but a careful internal examination would alert the doctor to my charade.

"Internal exam?" I strove to hide my anxiety.

"Not to worry, a routine physical performance evaluation," responded Adrienne, "According to your contract with TPP, you must be capable of physical contact with the vagina, mouth or anus of the woman or with the penis of the man for vaginal, anal and oral sex. Also you must be able to use and receive a strap -- on. Doc must have a look see."

Jim and I signed releases of medical information, consents to examination, blood tests and in Jim's case a sperm sample. Jim hesitated at that consent, but Adrienne hurried us along. "If you're about finished with those forms, I'll see if Dr Kendrick is ready. He's very busy today."

Ushered into the examination room where a garish intense light hung over an examination table, we met Dr Kendrick. Short and squat, Dr Kendrick slicked back some of his remaining strands of hair when we entered the room. He held a recorder in his hand and started to dictate. "Medical exam: James Dowd and Margaret Dowd, both 25, applicants for the Puzzle Palace's strip game show." To us in a pleasant tone, he said, "You're both familiar with the Puzzle Palace's webcast."

Receiving nods, Dr Kendrick looked to Nurse Adrienne who had Jim and me face each other, two or three feet apart. Adrienne smiled, then glanced in Dr Kendrick's direction, "They're ready, Doctor."

Kendrick with one hand behind his back leaned forward to growl an order, "I have two specimens in front of me. Let's get started with the examination. OK, you two, strip."

Adrienne took up a position next to Dr Kendrick. I could read on her face what she expected me to do: undress quickly. Adrienne chuckled when I grumbled, "quite the bedside manner," as I started pulling my heels off and dropping my skirt. I handed Adrienne my clothes as I removed them. Artfully I took off my thigh length stockings standing up, balancing myself on one foot. I held my hands out and asked, "What next?"