When they called us all down to the 6th floor for a meeting, we were hopeful. It was the dozen or so of us who had been affected by the company’s experiment, but when they asked to speak with us one-on-one, I think all of our hearts sank knowing what we were about to be told.
I went into the conference room with Taylor, she was a VP in HR. The room was far too big for the two of us, but based on the number of people and number of rooms -- someone needed to take the bigger rooms. I lifted my butt to lean on the edge of the table; I didn’t even want to sit down even on Taylor’s insistance.
She spoke for about five minutes with a bunch of corporate speak before dropping the part I knew was coming: despite the research department’s best efforts, there would be no way to swap anyone back to their own bodies.
“So I’m stuck like this?” I asked, “I’m stuck as a woman? I’m stuck being Marla?”
“Well, there’s some good news,” Taylor added, “You won’t have to pretend to be Marla anymore. We’ve worked through all the legal to ensure everyone can live as themselves despite of their new bodies.”
This gave me some relief, as living Marla’s life had been the worst thing about the swap so far. Going home to her jerk husband and posing as his wife had been awkward to say the least, particularly as I was used to being a man in any relationship. And now I’d have to explain this all to my own wife as well! Though one thing that didn’t bother me was Marla’s clothes. I don’t know why I loved them so much; they were just this wonderful mix of professional and sexy that made me feel good (though I might not admit this aloud).
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