Dad's new life

In some ways, the Great Shift had been a boon to John Malone. His former body, that of a fifty-year-old man, had begun to fail. Bad back, bad knees, receding hairline, John had resigned himself to the autumn years of his life, taking pleasure in watching his son Zero and daughter Melody grow up, but not aspiring to a great resurgence of vigor in his future. Yes, John Malone was slowing down.

Yet when the Great Shift hit, and John landed in his new body, all that changed.

Not that he would have chosen his fate. Not in the least.

When his head cleared after the event, John felt the brief sensation of falling, then a strong and painful blow to his head. It took a moment, but once his vision cleared, he found that he was no longer sitting at his desk at work looking over the day's appointments. Instead, John was laying on a cold, smooth stage with what looked like a fireman's pole at his feet. Loud dance music was pumping in the space, but above that, he began to hear screams and shouts of shock. He sat up, and that's when he noticed how dramatically things had changed.

No more receding hairline. No more stiff back. But in exchange, he got some new things. Two, to be exact, very large new things.

John had breasts.

The scream escaped his mouth before he realized he even could scream. Where was he? What was going on?

And why was he naked?!

John pulled himself to his feet using the firepole, and held on to steady himself. On his feet was a pair of transparent platform heels, something he'd never worn before. Covering himself as best as he could with his free hand, John surveyed the room. While he'd never seen one from the perspective he currently held, John recognized that he was in a strip club. Currently, he occupied the stage, raised a few feet, surrounded by chairs. Some of the chairs were occupied by men of various ages, each with a shocked look on their faces. Two older white men were crying.

Wanting nothing more than to get off the stage and be less exposed, John unsteadily walked on his heeled feet toward the curtain at the back of the stage. Thankfully he didn't turn an ankle, but when he reached the backstage area, he once again steadied himself on the wall. Not knowing where he was going, John followed the lights in the hallway to a small room with a large mirror surrounded by light bulbs. That's when he saw himself.

The girl in the mirror couldn't have been more than nineteen. He raised his fingers to his face, and so did she. She was him. He was her. Again, he screamed. Then fainted.

It was only after he woke up and picked himself up off the floor that he realized that his aches were gone. Standing up hadn't hurt his knees. His back had no pain. In fact, John felt more alive than he could ever remember feeling. Looking in the mirror again, John noticed the other characteristics of his new body. Sure, the girls had massive breasts, long blonde hair and big puffy lips, but she also had tight abs, strong leg and arm muscles, and a wonderful behind. John had never been in this good of shape in his entire life. He had the body of a dancer, and it came with certain advantages.

Again, he wouldn't have chosen this fate. Honestly.

But if he _had _to live in this body, then he might as well get used to it...

It took quite a while for things to get back to normal, if you could call it normal. John had been **** to inhabit this new body's life while that happened. It turned out that his body had formerly belonged to a young woman named Starla Truman, a twenty-year-old exotic dancer. The Great Shift, which was what the government began to call it, had displaced his body from his home town clear across the country. Starla had a small apartment which she shared with one of the other dancers, a girl named Deena, although now Deena's body was inhabited by the mind of a eight-year-old girl named Justine. While John waited for the government to sort things out, John spent his days taking care of Justine, helping her adjust to her new life, all the while getting used to Starla's body.

Starla had kept a fairly detailed workout diary, which was the first thing John adopted. He loved feeling so alive, and the last thing he wanted to do was lose that. Then came her clothes. Starla's wardrobe was nothing like what John would have worn in his regular life, but since Starla hadn't left him any resources to buy new clothes, he adjusted. Skirts, low-cut tops, and high heels were better than being naked, he told himself. And the make-up? That was just so that he didn't look out of place.

Not that he was enjoying dressing himself up, looking like a stripper. No, it was entirely out of necessity. No, if he had his choice, he would go back to wearing slacks and golf t-shirts.

Wouldn't he?

Finally, a government agency was formed to take care of the mess, help sort things out. Resources were allocated to return people to their old lives. John was sad to see Justine go. He had begun to think of her as a daughter, but she needed her family, and so did he. And so he left on the bus and headed home. Starla had been the owner of a number of very large suitcases, and John hadn't left anything behind. He had no idea what he would want to keep, what would come in handy, so he took everything. Every dress, every bra, all her clubwear, all her stripper outfits, make-up, dildos, hair products, everything. After the time he'd spent with Justine in the apartment, John had begun to think of it all as his, and in a way it was. Starla's life, wherever she had ended up, was over. John could at least keep a bit of it alive in his own life. Before he left, he'd even returned to the strip club to practice a routine he'd been watching on a video she'd made, and was surprised at how much muscle memory took over when he hit the stage.

Yes, by taking a bit of Starla's life, incorporating it into his own, he was paying tribute to the girl whose body he now possessed. It was the only honourable thing to do.