Nolan is enjoying being body swapped with his stepmom and giving in to all his dirty urges, not knowing that she is working on a way to get her body back in Flip Side 2.

Ever since 18 year old Nolan body swapped with his stepmom he’s been loving his new life being a woman. Being sexy and in charge. Having access to the body of his dreams any time he likes.

He’s tossed away Tiffany’s old conservative wardrobe in order to dress up like a slut, luxuriating in showing off his seductive new body in tight tops and short skirts. He keeps up appearances by arguing with his stepmom’s work nemesis, Steven, in the hallways but then pulls him into his office for some desperate love making. They both enjoy watching Tiffany’s body get what it deserves. And what it craves.

Meanwhile, Tiffany is having an awful time in her stepson’s body. Now she’s the one getting mocked and bullied by Derick. It’s gotten even worse now that Nolan, bent on making his former bully pay, has been appealing to the principal for Derick to be punished. While the school takes it’s time investigating, Derick is taking out his anger on Tiffany with a vengeance.

But Tiffany is so close to fixing the remote. And when she does she’s going to get her body back. Then she’s going to make Nolan pay.

That is…if everything goes according to plan.

Nolan

I sat back and glowered at the principal, crossing my legs so that the miniskirt slid up my stepmom’s thighs. My thighs now. Smooth and bronzed and delicious. The principal, to his credit, kept his eyes firmly fixed on mine, refusing to be tempted to have a glance at the parts of Tiffany’s body that I was presenting to him. Even my tits couldn’t tempt him. My top clung to my form, opening low to reveal the lacy bra that pushed my already exquisite cleavage up into enormous curves.

My stepmom, Tiffany, sat next to me in my body, a perpetual hangdog look on my former face. She’d tidied me up a bit. Her new skin a little healthier, body a little lighter. But she was otherwise broken. The fire had gone out of her when I smashed the remote control that had body swapped us. In the three months since, I thoroughly enjoyed my delightful new body while she trudged along, just getting by in my old, pathetic one.

“Go on, tell him,” I prodded Tiffany.

Tiffany sighed. “Derick runs into me in the hallways on purpose.”

“And?” I said, glaring at my former body.

“He dumped his lunch tray into my backpack.”

“And he called him names and encouraged others to pick on him,” I finished. “Derick is a bully. So what are you going to do about him?” I turned to the principal.

“I assure you, Mrs. Baxter—” The principal began.

“Miss Baxter,” I corrected him, enjoying the sound of it.

“Sorry, Miss Baxter. We take bullying very seriously at the school. There are processes in place we need to follow before we can take any action. Nolan, I’ll need you to provide me a list of everything he’s done to you in writing. And were there any witnesses to any of this?”

“Tons,” Tiffany said sullenly.

She didn’t want to be here but Derick hadn’t stopped bullying me even though it was no longer me he was bullying. I hated Tiffany but I held a deep seated grudge for Derick after everything he’d done to me.

“He should be expelled,” I said, my manicured hands gripping the arms of the chair. “Kids like that are no good.”

The principal nodded agreeably. “We will take any necessary action after we go through the proper investigation.”

I left the office a few minutes later, rounding the corner into the waiting room and stopping so short that Tiffany almost ran into me. Derick was sitting in the plastic chairs outside the principal’s office, a smug smile on his face and wearing his favorite purple and yellow basketball jersey, as if the clothes could give him the skills of the name emblazoned across the back. I glowered down at him. He looked from me to Tiffany and his eyes hardened.

“You’re going to get what’s coming to you,” I hissed through clenched teeth before sweeping out of the office and down the hall.

The click of my heels echoed in the empty halls and, even though Tiffany plodded along in my ungainly, pudgy body, I was short enough that I had to take almost two steps for her one.

“Well, that was a waste of fucking time,” I said. “What do we do now?”

“Nothing. Please,” Tiffany whined. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Then stand up for yourself. Punch him or something.”

She snorted. “Easy for you to say. Why didn’t you do it when you were in this body?”

I rounded on her and brought her up short, glaring up at my old face. I poked her in the chest to emphasize my words as I hissed: “Don’t you ever mention that we swapped bodies. I can make your life so much worse. Do you want to go live out on the streets?”

“No. Sorry.” She mumbled.

I liked this version of Tiffany. Soft spoken. Terrified of me. Broken. In my magnanimity I allowed her to keep living in the house. Truthfully, it was just so I could lord over her the fact that I had her body and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. I dumped her old wardrobe—well, everything except the sexy-as-fuck heels—and upgraded her to a sexier one. Miniskirts to show off my delectable ass and tight, low cut tops to show off my amazing new tits. Really going for the office slut look. I had the body of my dreams. I was a short blonde with big tits and incredible legs and I was intent on showing it all, getting off on the fact that I knew everyone wanted to fuck me. Including Tiffany herself. I’d seen her staring at me. Probably her unfamiliar testosterone doing things to her body she couldn’t control. Meanwhile, I was doing all sorts of things to her body that I could control, wringing nightly pleasure out of it.

In my new role, I made Tiffany do all the cooking and the cleaning, threatening to kick her out if she displeased me. I had her completely under my thumb and had relaxed into my new life, confident that we would never switch back.

Read the rest in Flip Side 2.

In the finale, Andrew remains stuck swapped into his wife’s body and his only hope of escape from the mob’s high-end brothel is to learn to use his new body to pleasure as many rich men as possible in Swapped by the Mob 3.

In the conclusion of the Swapped by the Mob series, Andrew is still swapped and forcibly feminized in his wife’s body while still stuck in the mob’s high-end brothel. There he must earn his body back by making enough money to pay off his debt. The only way to do this is by selling his wife’s body, revealing every inch of skin, and submitting to as many clients as possible.

Madame Elizabeth seems to delight in singling him out for punishment, whisking him away to her office and making him pleasure her. That’s where Andrew discovers the secret of his new body. The desire for punishment. The lust that rises with each slap and each derogatory name. It’s the only bright spot in his dark situation.

Because Andrew is unable to compete with the other men-turned-women in the brothel. They’re too classy, too beautiful, too enchanting. They take all the clients and he never even gets a chance.

Plus, his wife is on the outside borrowing even more money and spiraling him into ever-increasing debt. It’s like she’s enjoying being the man. Does she even want her body back? Is Andrew doomed to be a prostitute forever?

It’s only when he gives up completely that he discovers something that sets him apart. If he can tease men, taunt them, ridicule them until they have no choice but to purchase him and punish him deeply and exquisitely, then he can earn his way out…and soak in the pleasure of shame that burns into ecstasy from being so forcibly feminized.

Andrew followed Madame Elizabeth back to the main foyer. His thoughts were racing from his recent meeting with Vanessa. She was spending money she didn’t have, forcing him deeper into debt. He was paying for his bad judgement a thousand times over. The thought of being stuck in this brothel, in his wife’s body, forced to service hundreds of strangers made him release a choked sob. He cut if off as Madame Elizabeth whipped around to look at him. He expected a sharp slap but was surprised when Madame Elizabeth instead led him back to an inner office through a door that had been disguised to look like a blank wall.

He stood rigidly in the middle of the small room, looking about. It was sparse. A desk at one end between two ornate chairs. A polished wooden cabinet taller than Andrew to one side of the room.

Madame Elizabeth closed the door behind them then circled around to perch on her desk in front of him. She plucked a tissue from a tissue box and handed it to him. That simple gesture of kindness broke Andrew.

He grabbed the tissue and collapsed into the red velvet chair, sobbing. He couldn’t hold back as the emotion rushed out of him. Andrew always been the stoic but it felt cathartic to release this aching fear. When his tissue was soaked he plucked another from the box and cried.

Madame Elizabeth watched him silently with her piercing green eyes for a few minutes until he’d cried himself out.

Finally, she spoke. “Dear girl,” she said, reaching towards him. Andrew recoiled but she only caressed his cheek, her fingers surprisingly warm and tender. “I have seen so much betrayal in my time here. You are not the first to find that the owner does not want their body back.”

“No,” Andrew said, wiping his nose with the tissue and pushing his wife’s silky hair back out of his eyes. “She didn’t say that. She’s just making my debt bigger because she can’t get a job.”

Madame Elizabeth’s green eyes softened and she shook her head. “You will be better off accepting that you are Vanessa now and forever.”

“No!” Andrew snapped, then glanced up quickly in case he’d angered Madame Elizabeth. She looked at him with an enigmatic smile but said nothing, her eyes boring into him until he looked down. “No,” he said more quietly. “We’ll swap back when I’ve paid off my debt.”

“Very well,” Madame Elizabeth said, standing suddenly.

Her look sharpened and Andrew sensed the change in the room. He sat up straight, hands in his lap, awaiting her instruction.

“Get yourself together and get back to work,” Madame Elizabeth snapped.

She opened the door and he was halfway through when she called his name.

“Vanessa.”

Andrew turned to look at her.

“If you want to pay off your debt quicker, you will need to earn more than your counterpart can spend.” She looked him up and down, appraising him. “A girl like you would be in high demand as a prostitute. If you can play the part.”

She was right. Strip clubs and cam girls weren’t going to do it.

Andrew returned to his room and redid his makeup. His mascara had streaked from his crying. His skin was a mess. His hair disheveled.

He started over, wiping everything away and reapplying as he’d learned from Gabriella. Gabriella. The room seemed so empty without her.

Andrew stared at his wife’s soft face in the mirror as he made her up and combed her mocha-brown hair. As he reapplied his red lipstick, the image of his wife sucking a stranger’s cock came back to him. He shivered, scrunching Vanessa’s little nose in distaste at the memory. Though he would need to do so much more before he could be free.

As he completed his makeup his mind continued to dwell on the events of yesterday. God, he could still taste the cock in his mouth. Remembered how it felt to wrap his wife’s sweet lips around it. And how horny she’d looked in the mirror. How slutty. How good that had made him feel watching her. Punishing her. Punishing himself. The thought made him ache once in his core and he shook it away.

He did his makeup thicker today. Blush and eyeliner and mascara and lipliner. Everything he remembered.

He shucked off the cami top and jeans and flipped through his closet for a dress fit for a prostitute. He found one slinky and sparkly that clung to his wife’s shapely form, buoying up his breasts and revealing miles of leg. Silver high heels finished the outfit, forcing him to balance precariously. When he stepped in front of the mirror there was something missing. Though his wife’s body was dressed like a prostitute, she didn’t look like one. The woman in the reflection was timid. Scared. She looked like she was playing dress-up, not out to conquer men.

Andrew stood up straighter and smoothed out his dress, his wife’s soft hands travelling down his body. He thought about his debt. He thought about getting free. Tried to buck himself up with some sort of motivation but it didn’t help. He still looked terrified.

Returning downstairs, he was met with a sea of scantily clad women. They stood around in their groups and Andrew joined the prostitutes. It was obvious which group they were. Skimpy dresses. Confident looks. Bodies screaming sex. Wry smiles. They’d mastered their sexuality in a way that Andrew hadn’t yet. His wife’s body still scared him. The actions he would have to take in her body scared him even more.

Andrew lined up with them, wobbling slightly on his heels. No one spoke to him. A statuesque blonde glanced at him and dismissed him. A brunette to his right tittered to her friend and gestured his way. Andrew could see why. He did look ridiculous. His makeup was second rate. His outfit didn’t fit his attitude. He didn’t belong here.

Read the rest of Swapped by the Mob 3