Entering the gym was Dennis Levy, agent to the stars and equally powerful in the world of both sports and entertainment. He represented both Miles and Megan Fox, and was at the hotel as her wedding guest. He was dressed to the nines in a $6,000 Italian grey suit, designer sunglasses, an expensive watch and all the other trappings of success. He had asked the woman at the front desk if she knew where Miles was, and she said she had seen him on the way to the fitness center.
"Miles, my man!" he said with a smile as the door closed behind him. "You took an earlier flight. I was hoping to talk contract with you on the trip out."
"What up, Dennis?" came Miles' familiar deep voice - but to Dennis' surprise, it was coming out of Ilsa Gretsch's beautiful blonde body. "Yeah, Ilsa and me wanted to get here sooner, take advantage of the amenities."
Confused, Dennis turned to what he thought was Miles Landry and asked, "When did you learn ventriliquism, Miles?"
The giant black Adonis looked confused and said in a soft, feminine, Germanic accent, "What does he mean, Miles?"
The blonde knockout said, in Miles' voice, "I don't know, baby. What are you talking about, Dennis?"
Now Dennis studied "Miles" more closely, and saw that something wasn't right beyond the voice. "His" face looked different: underneath the dark brown skin and thick mustache was a weaker chin, more pronounced cheekbones, poutier lips and very blue eyes that had no place on his client. Then he turned to "Ilsa" and, to his growing astonishment, began to see Miles' facial features peeking out underneath the pale skin and gorgeous blonde mane.
"Miles?" he asked, struggling to put things into words. "What... what... what?"
He began to hyperventilate.
The large black "man" he was beginning to suspect was Ilsa Gretsch looked very concerned and asked, "What should we do, Miles?"
"The man needs some air, maybe," the blonde said. "Pool's next door. Why don't we go out there, Dennis?"
Miles put his delicate hand on Dennis' shoulder and led him out of the gym, down the hall and through a doorway onto the pool, where Dennis felt reassured to see Megan Fox and her fiance Brad kissing passionately in the deep end of the pool.
"Megan!" he gasped. "Thank God something's normal around here!"
Megan and Brad broke their embrace, and Megan swam towards the ladder.
"Dennis?" she asked, concerned. "What's wrong?"
"I should think it's obvious," Dennis said, frantically gesturing at the couple who had led him to the pool. "Look at Miles and Ilsa!"
Megan looked up from the water, studied them both, then looked back at Dennis, still puzzled.
"They look fine to me," she said, as she began to climb the ladder.
"But, but..." Dennis said, then stopped himself when Megan's lower half came out of the water and he saw two things: that she had taken off her bikini bottoms, and that she now had an enormous cock sticking out from between her legs.
"WHAT! THE! FUCK!" he screamed, while pointing in horror at Megan's new male appendage.
"Take it down a notch, Dennis," Megan said, amused. "I didn't know you were such a prude. Brad, get me my bottoms."
Brad walked over wearing a very tight Speedo - so tight that Dennis could see his pelvis was completely flat, with no evidence of male genitalia anywhere.
He hyperventilated some more. Brad called for some water, and moments later Brad was handed a tall glass by what looked at first to be a woman in a French maid's outfit with stiletto heels, but turned out on closer inspection to be a man in drag, easily flouncing this way and that on the ridiculous shoes, and speaking in a soft French accent.
"What iz ze matter with zis man?" he asked Megan, also worried.
"I don't exactly know," said Megan.
The cold water had calmed him down just enough that Dennis regained the power of speech and he bellowed, "I'll tell you what's wrong! I come here to see my two star clients, and I discover that my star football player is now somehow a skinny blonde white chick! And my number one client, the hottest actress on the planet, the woman every male moviegoer wants to fuck... suddenly has a large penis!"
His gathered audience didn't know how to react.
"What is your damage, Dennis?" said Megan. "I've always had this dick!"
"And I ain't no white chick!" said an irritated Miles. "I'm just light-skinned, with a delicate build."
Dennis had brought his best friend Mike's daughter Vicki, a cute 16-year-old redhead who was a huge Megan Fox fan, to the wedding as a birthday present. She had been waiting in the lobby for her uncle to come back, and had gotten impatient enough to wander out to the pool, where she stumbled across this bizarre scene. Like her "Uncle" Dennis, she knew that none of what she was seeing was right.
"Uncle Dennis, what's happening here?" she asked, horrified by the penis dangling between her idol's legs, and yet unable to look away from it.
"I have no idea, Vicki," said Dennis, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a cell phone. "But I'm going to bring in some people to find out what it is and how we can fix it."
Dr. Moriarty was, of course, watching this all play out on his close-circuit monitors, and clucked his tongue disapprovingly.
"Oh, this will not do at all," he said. Fortunately, the pool was, like all the other rooms at the hotel, equipped to deliver his special knockout gas, and within minutes, the other guests were asleep in their room, "Michelle" was back on her rounds, and Dennis and Vicki were laid out in Moriarty's lab. He had the capability to simply adjust their perception so that they would accept the other guests' changes, but he decided to have some fun while he had them here.
Some time later, a beautiful blonde woman whose curves were hid inside the uniform of a male waiter knocked on the door of a guest room.
"I'll be there in a minute!" yelled what sounded like the voice of a teenage girl, but with a rougher edge.
The door opened, and standing there was a cute redheaded girl, no older than 16, no taller than 5'6", wearing a designer Italian grey man's suit, expensive loafers, a shiny Rolex and the other trappings of success, all tailored to fit her perfectly.
"What do you want?" she barked.
"Are you Dennis Levy?" the woman in the waiter's uniform, known around the hotel as "Mike," asked.
"What does it look like?" the red head sneered. "Of course I'm Dennis Levy!"
"Mike" gestured to the tray she was carrying in her other hand. "A late-night snack, compliments of management, for you and your young charge," she explained. "To welcome you to our establishment."
"No such thing as a free lunch, buddy," the redhead said suspiciously.
"On the house, I assure you," said Mike.
"Fine, but don't expect a tip," said "Dennis," who turned to the door leading to the adjacent room and barked, "Vicki! Come on over! We've got some free grub!"
The door opened and out stepped a middle-aged but fit man wearing a pale yellow belly shirt, a plaid skirt and flip-flops. His toenails, like his fingernails, were painted bubble-gum pink, and his face was covered with make-up.
"Sweet, Uncle Dennis!" he said. "You got the hook up!"
"Just don't eat too much," "Dennis" warned "Vicki." "You don't want to ruin your girlish figure, especially with that dress your mom got you to wear to the wedding."
"Dennis" saw Mike still standing at the door, and growled, "I told you not to expect a tip."
Mike shrugged her shoulders and strolled off, stopping to scratch her butt. Once, she had been called Michelle, the delight of every male guest at her old job: a sexy blonde with a seductive French accent who looked spectacular in that French maid costume and those towering heels. She, of course, didn't remember that, not since the day Moriarty had brought her and the real Mike down into his lab, studied their forms, and performed a switch not unlike what he had just done to Dennis and Vicki. Now, if "Mike"were to think of wearing those heels, she'd never be able to get two inches in them. On the plus side, she and "Michelle" were a pretty hot item, and Dr. Moriarty indulged their use of guest rooms for their occasional dalliances.
In fact, as she checked her watch, she realized she and Michelle were both due for a break, and her lips curled upwards just thinking about how sensational her man's legs looked in those stockings and heels.
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