An ageing billionaire transforms himself into a copy of a hot eighteen-year-old cheerleader and lives her life for a week in Billionaire Babe, available on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords or Amazon.
Peter was never popular in high school, but now that he's a successful billionaire he wants a second chance using his secret transformation technology. This time he wants to be someone different. While giving a speech at his old high school, he finds just what he's looking for in Laura. She's his opposite in every way: Sexy, athletic, popular, and not too bright.
Peter transforms himself into an exact copy of Laura, complete with access to her memories. He then sends the real Laura on vacation at his private island while he lives her life for a week. Now he's got plenty of time to explore her life -- and her body -- at his leisure, and he enjoys the novelty of the high school experience he never had, complete with jealousy, boyfriends, and dressing up.
“They say shoot for the moon and even if you miss you’ll end up among the stars,” Peter intoned, his hands resting lightly on the lectern as he stared out at the sea of high schoolers looking at him. “But what they don’t say is you’ll be twirling around in space, running out of oxygen and scared that this is how it ends.” Pause for slight laughter. “But it is those obstacles that challenge us and force us to be better than we thought we could be. So grab your spacesuit, pull on your oxygen mask, and keep trying. Thank you.”
There was polite applause from the students. The principal shook Peter’s hand and he took his seat near the front of the makeshift stage. As the principal made some final remarks, Peter sat back and pretended to listen as he gazed out at the crowd of students arranged on the gym floor in front and the bleachers to the side of the high school gym. Some were bored and fidgeting, some rapt with attention. The band sat just in front of the stage to Peter’s left, ready for their cue. The cheerleaders sat across from them, faces painted with the school mascot’s head – a cartoon pirate – or just the school colors of red and black.
Peter had been surprised upon returning to his old high school that it still held so many memories, despite its transformation over the years. The red brick façade of the administrative building was still the same as it had been fifty years ago, though now more faded. But other wings had sprung up. Classrooms replaced one of the playing fields. Class trailers were stationed out near the parking lot. The newest building, of course, was the Peter Forster gym. Peter had enjoyed the irony of them tearing down the old building where he’d been so tormented in order to build this new state-of-the-art marvel named after himself.
When Peter had been at school, he’d been more like the stout young man he saw sitting at the corner of one of the bleachers: hair unkempt, ill-fitting glasses perched on his nose, sitting as far from anyone as possible. Peter’s high school experience had been the complete opposite of, say the pretty blonde cheerleader in the first row, her eyes wide with school pride and homecoming fervor, brimming with the confidence of the extraordinarily pretty.
Peter didn’t know what that was like. He’d never been pretty. He had a crooked nose and eyes that were too close together. As he’d entered his early sixties, age had made the heavy pouch of his stomach hang lower. Liver spots blossomed across his skin. Wrinkles appeared on his face and the skin about his neck sagged. The expensive treatments could only do so much and he’d long ago come to terms with the fact that he would never be pretty. The money helped alleviate some of those issues, of course. Gaining him the social status and attention he would never otherwise have had, along with a string of friends and hangers-on and lovers. The latter willing to stay with him as long as he continued to shower them with money. He’d broken up with his last girlfriend only a week before flying back across the country to give this homecoming address. Despite it all, he was excited because today he was on the hunt for something different.
The principal finished his remarks and the band struck up the school fight song. The cheerleaders jumped out of their seats and took over the center of the gym, shaking their pom-poms and cheering their hearts out. Peter rose as the principal turned and extended his hand.
“That was a wonderful speech. Thank you again for coming, and for your generous donation,” the principal said.
Peter’s wrinkled hand felt so weak in the younger man’s stronger grip, and he smiled politely. “Of course. This is the place that made me who I am today.”
When the principal released his hand, Peter swept his thinning grey hair back over his head. Some of the other people onstage caught up with him, gushing and snapping pictures. It wasn’t every day that a billionaire visited their small town.
“Have any money tips for me?” One of the younger teachers joked as they stood side by side watching the cheerleaders perform.
“Get involved early in a tech company that will be incredibly successful and then cash out,” Peter replied with a tight smile.
That was how he’d done it, then turned around and invested that seed money into other startups. Delivery companies. Batteries. Satellites. Medicine. Rocket ships. He’d been on the forefront of every major development in the last twenty years. Many people across the globe knew who he was, though fewer knew—or cared—what he looked like. Just another name that popped up in the news now and then.
Peter noticed that the geeky young man near the end of the bleachers had disappeared. Probably slipped away to get back to the safety of the library. That had been Peter’s refuge. The place he had learned to code back when coding was something that could make you rich instead of something that any idiot with access to an AI could do.
Peter’s eyes returned to the cheerleaders, now stacked up in a pyramid. The gorgeous blonde he’d spotted earlier had climbed to the top and was waving her pompoms wildly. Her profile was to Peter and, god, what a profile. Perfect slip of a nose. Cute chin. Tight figure. Delectable chest. Sculpted calves. The type of woman that would have had nothing to do with Peter in high school. Hell, her whole experience in high school would have been wildly different from his. Maybe…she was the one for him now.
She flipped off the pyramid, arms and legs tumbling in a splash of golden bronze skin to be caught in the arms of two others. Jumping out, she kicked her leg high in a standing split. Oh, to be that flexible.
He felt like a lech ogling an eighteen-year-old like this, but then, he wasn’t considering having sex with her. Or not in the traditional sense, anyway. He was interested in something far more intimate and much more novel.
When the cheerleaders had finished, the students were allowed to disperse. Peter climbed down the steps on weak legs, gripping the banister tight. These days he didn’t move as fast as he used to. Though he never used to move particularly fast.
He was soon surrounded by a small group of students eager to take a selfie with him and he obliged, making pleasantries and giving banal advice as they snapped their pictures. One of the things he’d had to live with as a semi-famous billionaire was being mobbed by fans.
Peter sized each of these young people up as they approached him, trying to gauge their social standing, their popularity their background in just the few brief seconds of interaction. Would they do? No. He found them all wanting. He was looking for something perfect. And then he turned and found the pretty blonde cheerleader who’d been standing at the top of the pyramid.
Her dazzling blue eyes were focused on him, a shy smile on her perfect lips. He felt her powerful aura, and saw the way the other students around her gave her deference even while they were struck with longing for her. The world seemed to stand still. She seemed to have that dazzling beauty that made Peter want to give her anything she desired. She was the one.
“Can I get a quick selfie?” She asked.
“Certainly,” Peter replied, standing a little taller and tugging down the sleeves of his crisp, black suit. “And what’s your name?”
“Laura Bouchard,” she smiled, revealing a flash of bright white teeth.
He was about a head taller than her and as he stood beside her she angled her camera up until the two of them were framed on her screen. Him with his spots and wrinkles. Her with her brilliantly sculpted nose and perfect skin.
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