“That Old Black Magic” by Seuzz

"Holy shit," Kevin gasped as he gaped into the mirror. "It worked!"

Micah snickered. "Toldja it would. You think I was full of shit?"

Kevin hung his head; there wasn't really a good answer to that question. He peered up furtively from beneath his eyebrows, to gaze back at his reflection. He felt guilty about scoping out his new body, which until a few minutes ago had belonged to Micah Johanssen. Even now, when at six and a half feet, he towered over the other, with muscles that could easily press him into jelly, he didn't want Micah to catch him scoping out the broad, slab-like chest or the flat stomach; still less did he want him to notice the erection that was slowly but noticeably distending his underwear.

But Micah—now very short and slight under a shock of blonde hair—just grinned. "Go ahead, drink it all in. You're looking good, if I say so myself."

Instead, Kevin licked his lips and glanced around. The school basement was spooky enough, but this was the sub-basement, maybe even the sub-sub-basement, whose discolored walls sulked menacingly in the underlit gloom. The change had been done in a cistern, the deepest part of the school's unexplored depths, and he shivered when he remembered the peculiar scratches on its walls and the ghastly, backwards-running chant Micah had uttered as the two of them lay on its floor with the iron grillwork of the drain between them. "How does it work?"

Micah shrugged. "Fuck if I know. I just know it does. This place used to be a nunnery or something, you know. The Church closed it down a hundred years ago. Some scandal or other." He shied away from using the word "witchcraft," as even he was unsettled by the thought. "City bought the building ages ago and turned it into a high school, but they never tore out its roots."

"And how'd you find out about the ... the changing room, or whatever you call it?"

"Lore that gets passed down from generation to generation of students. Of course, you have to be one of the chosen ones. Which I guess makes you kind of special now, since you've been inducted."

"So you've done this before?"

"Of course," Micah snorted. "First time was when I was dating Alison. Peter wanted to fuck her, and I was hot for Sarah, but they wouldn't go along with a bed swap, so him and me did a body swap instead, for a weekend, and the girls never knew the difference." He grinned, and it startled Kevin to see the face that had been his twisted up into a leer.

"And this kind of thing goes on all the time?" Kevin asked in alarm.

"Well, not as much as you might think. It's hard pretending to be somebody else 'cos you only get their body, not their memories or anything, so we never change places for very long."

Kevin suddenly felt very cold, and he clasped his arms around his torso. It felt good to touch his new body this way—everything felt very tight and beautifully formed—but it didn't bring much relief. "I can't really pretend to be you, you know," he stammered. "I mean, I can't play basketball, and I don't know how to act—"

"That's why I waited until the Friday afternoon before break to do it. While we're out of school the only person you have to hang out with is Bea."

Kevin hunched a little more and chewed the inside of his cheek furiously. "You want me to get in good with her."

"Yeah." Micah reached up and put his arm around Kevin and tried pulling him down closer to eye level, but it was like trying to tug at Gibraltar. "Listen, her and me have been having problems. I'm gonna fuck things up if I have to spend a week with her, just the two of us. That's why I want you pretending to be me. Smooth things over, keep her happy during the break, make her think I'm a wonderful, sensitive, caring guy who isn't just trying to get inside her panties. I mean, come on, you're her best friend."

Kevin jerked a little. "You trust me? I mean, you can, I never tried anything with her when we got together to talk—"

"Come on, Kevin, give me a little credit," Micah said. "Everyone knows you're gay. Really, that's how come you thought I was dragging you down here, right? To beat the shit out of you?" Kevin swallowed. "But that's the whole reason I trusted you around her. Still trust you, to do the favor I'm asking. The only other thing I ask is that you don't cruise any of the guys on the team while you're using my body. Got it?"

"Well, if we're only going to be swapped while we're on break," Kevin muttered.

Micah clapped him on the back and smiled. He then drew out his cell phone—or, rather, Kevin's cell phone, as it was Kevin's he was now carrying. "Give me a pose," he said. "Let's preserve the moment."

Afterwards they got dressed in each other's clothes and left. Naturally, Kevin thought the photo would stay on his cell phone. In fact, Micah quickly sent it off to a specific recipient. Such a photo, coming from that phone, was the agreed-upon signal.

* * * * *

An hour later, Micah was stretched out in the driver's seat of Kevin's car, his hands clasped behind his back, smiling with beguiled anticipation. The smile only grew wider when he saw the headlights of the other car draw up, and as he watched the shadowy figure cross the evening gloom and open the passenger-side car. But instead of getting in, the newcomer froze at the sight of the other, and at the cock that stood at attention like a flagpole in front of the steering wheel.

"Where the fuck are your clothes?" Bea Reynolds demanded.

"Back at my house, in the closet," Micah grinned. "Or do you mean, 'Where the fuck are Kevin's clothes?' Well, I thought we'd just cut to the chase."

"I gave you a script, you dingaling," Bea retorted. "You know how I want this to go."

"Aw, come on, baby," Micah sighed. "Don't tell me you're the kind of girl who refuses to open her Christmas presents early and then rewraps them?" She just stared back. "Alright, fine." He struggled back into Kevin's slacks and shirt and shoes while she watched him with grim bemusement. When he was done he looked at her expectantly. Still she said nothing, even after getting in the car and shutting it behind her.

"Okay," he shrugged. He closed his eyes, rubbed them, and tried to remember the limp way Kevin acted around girls. He scratched his arm uncertainly, looked around the car in every direction but hers, and put a quaver in his voice.

"I've been thinking a lot," he said with fake nervousness. "About what I've said, and about what you've said. It's—" He swallowed. "It's a pretty big thing, you know. But— Well, I think I'm willing to try. I mean, I figure if any girl can turn me straight, it would be you, Bea."

Her smile could have melted chocolate. "Oh, Kevin," she simpered. She reached over to touch the edge of his collar with her finger tip.

"It might take a whole week," he warned her.

"I'm counting on it!" she exclaimed, and drew very close to him.