The Bitter Bridegroom

The Bitter Bridegroom

It was going to be the wedding of the year. Hollywood's new golden-haired wonder boy Tom Hudson was marrying supermodel Gina Carter, and the press couldn't get enough of them. It was a pairing that had synergy, they said, one in which their combined fame and glamor would be greater than the sum of that which they possessed individually. Media gossip mongers and other professional celebrity-watchers were all but salivating at the prospect and already roughing out copy on the affairs they would be exclusively 'revealing' one or the other was having. They would allow a decent interval to pass first, of course, let the bloom go off the rose a bit and allow the honeymoon period with the public to expire before launching these stories. You had to have some sense of decency and consideration for the feelings of others, after all.

The pundits all agreed that he was just that bit more famous than her according to whatever arcane metrics they used to gauge such things, but that she was no slouch either. She had made the covers of all the top style and fashion magazines several times over, was the current face of Godiva, the planet's most exclusive and expensive cosmetics line, and had the body that most of the world's leading designers wanted to see parading their creations down the catwalk. Not bad for someone still only 21 years old. He was seven years her senior, the young heart-throb currently making waves in action movies after a string of smash hit romantic comedies, and the star of the two highest grossing movies to be released in the past twelve months. Always getting top billing, he was a star rather than an accomplished actor, one who like many successful stars before him played pretty much the same character in every film he appeared in. There were occasional hints he wanted to stretch himself, but as yet there was no sign of him making any move to test his acting chops in more challenging fare. Whether or not he ever would was the source of much speculation among those who cared about these matters. So far, Gina's only foray into acting had consisted of gyrating while clad either in latex or leather in videos for several over-loud and under-talented, yet strangely successful rock bands. The most successful of these, Deathsperm, had used her in their last three videos, and she was lined up for their next one, too. There were rumors she wanted to get into proper movies, but these had never been confirmed. All of which promised that their nuptials and much of their life together over the next few years were going to be the subject of intense media attention. And that wedding, which would be attended by the most glamorous and powerful people in the movie business, was happening today....

Gina Carter shook her head and smiled indulgently as she studied the framed photographs covering every square inch of wall in her fiance's office. They had been living together almost a year now and the sight still amused her. Even in as self-regarding a place as Hollywood, she doubted there were many stars who worked surrounded by this many pictures of themselves. She was in love with Tom, and she believed he was a good man, but he could be breathtakingly vain. He was currently out on his morning run, doing his regular six laps of the perimeter wall of their large Malibu compound. She, having already performed her morning exercise regime and showered off, had just finished a light breakfast and was now preparing to go through the mail. Glancing out the window, she noted the progress the work crews were making in erecting the large marquees in the grounds. It looked like they would be finished well before the first guests arrived.

Sipping her coffee, she walked back to the mail room smiling at the wedding gifts from fans and well-wishers piled against one wall. The agency that managed the daily business of their lives they seldom had the time or inclination to deal with themselves sorted the vast slushpile of mail they received every day. They weeded out the ninety-nine percent that could either be dealt with by sending a mechanically-signed photograph and a form letter or by round-filing, and forwarding the rest on to Tom and Gina. Recently, this had been expanded to include the unwrapping and checking of presents from admirers to ensure they were what they appeared to be and that there were no surprises. With the obsessives out there who fixated on celebrities, sometimes trying to harm them, you couldn't be too careful. Among the gifts today, one item in particular caught Gina's eye. Around the neck of a large stuffed toy penguin was some kind of medallion. Curious, she removed it from the penguin for a closer look. The medallion itself was in a transparent plastic pouch, the chain emerging from a slit at the top. On the face of the medallion was what appeared to be a representation of an angel, or a fairy, or cherub of some sort. It looked cheap and tacky, not at all like the sort of thing fans usually sent them. Removing it from the pouch, she discovered a handwritten note tucked away in the back. Unfolded, it read:

To Tom & Gina - a Weding Present.

This is the Medalion of Zulo. It is magic. I won it off my looser friend Jeff playing cards. If two people touch it at once it has the affect of switching their bodies. If you put it on and touch something someone else has worn to it it will have the affect of turning you into a copy of them. Once it has changed you you have to wait 12 hours before it will work on you again. It will not work on you if your menstrating or pregnant. You can have a lot of fun with it. I turned Jeff into a copy of a cheerleder at my school. He thinks I'm going to turn him back but I'm sending the Medalion to you instead.

Best Wishes, Max Weston, your bigest fan.

PS. I thought Tom's last movie rocked, and Gina looked awesome in that black leather outfit in the video for Deathsperm's Hail the Disembowler. That whip was kool!'

Gina shook her head. Magic, indeed. Also, the guy who had written the note did not know the difference between 'affect' and 'effect' nor between 'looser' and 'loser', not to mention the other errors in spelling and punctuation. (Gina had always been an A grade English student and noticed these things.) She turned at the sound of a door opening behind her. It was Tom, back from his run, towelling off and grinning that million dollar grin of his at her. "What you got there, babe?" he asked.

"This? Oh, it's just some piece of junk from a fan. He claims it's magic."

"Can I see?"

She handed the medallion to him and as he took it she felt a strange tingling.

"Did you feel that?" she said.

"Yeah. Weird. Maybe we somehow set it off and that was it beginning to do it's work."

They both laughed at this absurd suggestion.

"How's it supposed to work, anyway?" he asked. She handed him the note.

As he read she watched him, casting her eyes appreciatively over that ludicrously handsome face, that buff, well-toned body, and those cute little buns, firm and ripe in those tight running shorts and looking good enough to sink her teeth into. Or did they? She frowned then, seeing that they weren't as small as she expected, nor was he quite as buff as she remembered. Strangely, his muscles seemed somehow smaller and less well-defined than they had just minutes earlier, while his hair seemed both longer and several shades darker. That couldn't be right. She gasped then, as a strange convulsion swept through her body. Looking down she could see hair sprouting on her arms and body, her feet starting to hurt as they strained against the straps of her mules. And her breasts! Slowly but undeniably, her beautiful breasts were shrinking away!

"Oh my god!" gasped Tom.

Gina looked up to see the shocked expression on his face as he stared at her, a face growing softer and more feminine as she watched.

"It's the medallion!" he said, looking down at his chest in wonderment as twin bumps started to strain noticeably against the fabric of his running top, "It really works!"

They both dashed to the wall mirror (this being Tom Hudson's home, every room in every building in the compound had at least one) and watched in horror and amazement as each slowly but inexorably transformed into a copy of the other. The whole process took maybe half an hour, but when it was done, when the changes had gradually slowed and finally stopped, he was now her and she him.

"This... this isn't possible!" said Gina in Tom's baritone, "There's no such thing as magic!"

"We're the proof there is", said Tom, running a hand through his long, raven tresses and pouting at his reflection, before turning and glancing over his shoulder at the image of his now more ample ass. "And you've got to admit, this is kinda intriguing."

"Intriguing?!" she shrieked. " Look at us! We've got to change back!"

"We will. But not for twelve hours, remember?"

"Twelve hours. Oh no, no. We're getting married in four hours. We have to change back NOW!"

Gina grabbed the medallion and pressed it against Tom's hand. Nothing happened. She tried it several more times, with no greater success.

"I feel sick", she said, and she did indeed look queasy. "We have to cancel the ceremony."

"What? No way. People have flown in from all over the world, finding gaps in their busy filming and performing schedules. Same goes for the caterers, the band, and every other person we hired. Putting this wedding together was a major planning operation, a real headache to pull off. It would cost us at least half a million and take months to pull together again. No, we have to get married as each other. We can switch back tonight, after the ceremony and the party. Think of it as a challenge, a test of our skill as actors. We have to pull this off with none of our friends or family finding out we're not who we appear to be."

Gina was in tears.

"But this is my wedding day. I'm supposed to be the bride. This is the biggest day in a girl's life, the day she starts dreaming about and looking forward to when she's still a child."

Tom put his arms around the sobbing man, a difficult feat given that she was now larger than him, and comforted her as best he could.

"This isn't fair."

Tom said nothing. Eventually Gina stopped sobbing, looked down at Tom, and sighed.

"You're right", she sniffled. "We can't call it off. It has to be today. It hurts and I'm not happy about it, but you get to wear the big dress and... omigod!"

"What is it?"

"In the excitement I lost track of the time. My mother, the hair stylist, the make-up artist, the dress designer, the manicurist and everyone else who'll be getting me...getting you...ready will be here any minute. You'll need to get over to the small guest house as soon as you've freshened up."

The gate house, stable, and gardener's lodge aside, there were three main buildings in their Malibu compound. Clustered together in an arc, these were the main house - a mansion - and the big and small guest houses, either of which was larger than the average American family home. The party after the ceremony would take place in and around the main house and the pool out back. The big guest house was off-limits to everyone else since that was where Tom and Gina would be spending their wedding night. At this stage in the proceedings, the small guest house was the bride's sole dominion. This was where she would be getting ready before the wedding and it was strictly off-limits to the groom.

Tom peeled off his running gear and took a quick shower, towelling off and throwing on a bathrobe just in time for the arrival of those they were expecting. Gina pushed him out of the mansion to meet them, shutting the door behind him. She desperately needed some time alone to take in what had happened to her, and since it didn't take the groom anywhere near as long to get ready as it did the bride she figured she had at least an hour to herself.

Standing before one of the many mirrors, Gina ran her fingers over her new features in wonderment, gently running them down her neck, across that muscular chest, over the contours of her 'washboard' stomach and onwards down to... it. She had an enormous erection, could barely believe how it felt, throbbing and straining to be free of its sheath (unusually for an American male of his age, Tom was uncircumcised). She gently stroked the underside, her breathing becoming slower, heavier, curled her hand around the shaft, firmly grasping it, and began to pump, slowly at first, then with increasing vigor as she brought herself to orgasm.

"Oh, wow!" she gasped. "That was... intense."

She wiped the mirror off with a handful of tissues, still trembling. Having the whole experience of orgasm in a single concentrated burst like that was strange but good. It wasn't better or worse than her usual orgasms, she decided, so much as different. She still wasn't at all happy with the situation she was in, but if she was stuck this way for the next twelve hours the least she was going to do was satisfy her curiosity about stuff like this, something Tom wasn't going to find any time to do. She found this thought oddly comforting.

As an actor, Tom was used to the experience of sitting in a chair for several hours while others worked on your hair and make-up, but this was a whole other level to anything he had expected. Consuela Carter, Gina's formidable take-charge mother had formidably taken charge and was like a general directing her troops on a major military campaign. While liaising with/berating caterers, florists and the management of the marquee suppliers on her mobile phone, she still found time to criticize/offer advice on the work of the make-up artist, hair stylist and manicurist working away on Tom. Amazingly, they took this with good grace. Since all worked for the studio that had produced Tom's last four films they were probably used to the caprices of the far more ferocious martinets who were some of their employer's top directors.

Apart from a peck on the cheek and a brief, condensed monologue on her latest travails, Consuela exchanged no words with her 'daughter' and so Tom passed first inspection without detection. Of course, what with having no reason to suspect he wasn't Gina and her own self-absorption, it was unlikely she would have noticed any slip on his part anyway. While Tom was thinking these thoughts, Gina's maid of honour, Kate McGowen arrived. A fellow model and Gina's best friend, Kate sat down on a chair and started chatting away. Fortunately, the make-up artist was working on his lips at that point so Tom couldn't have answered even had he wanted to. Like Consuela, she didn't seem to notice anything was wrong. In any case, Tom had met her many times, and Gina had talked about her often enough that he thought he could pass muster without raising her suspicions.

Having all these people working on him at once might have fazed someone who was not a seasoned movie actor. Tom found it relaxing. It felt more like pampering than a movie make-up session and he mostly zoned out, letting the experience wash over him. When they had finished, someone passed Tom a mirror and he almost whistled at his reflection. He looked gorgeous. Gina was one of the world's most beautiful women. Having that beauty enhanced through the top-flight skills of the studio's hair and make-up artists produced a vision of loveliness that would stop any man in his tracks.

Next up was the underwear, and with the help of Consuela and Kate, Tom was fastened into the pure white basque Gina had intended to surprise him with that night. As a model, Gina had shapely but not particularly large breasts, but the basque was as cunningly engineered as a wonderbra with the result that Tom found his borrowed breasts pushed up and out to form a decolletage more impressive than he had ever seen Gina display. A garter belt, thong and silk stockings completed the effect, with Kate sliding one of her frilly garters up Tom's thigh to serve both as 'something borrowed' and 'something blue'. (An antique gold locket that had belonged to Gina's great-grandmother was the 'something old'.) Then came the shoes. They were Manolo Blahniks, of course, and with their backstraps and vertiginous five inch heels they were an impressive marriage of high fashion and engineering. Consuela and Katie oohed and aahed over these objects of desire, the holy grail in the female obsession with footwear, as they reverently slid them onto Tom's feet. This was a moment of deep uncertainty for him. He experienced a brief stab of panic but, after taking a deep breath, managed to walk up and down in the shoes with surprising ease as the other women looked on with a mixture of pride and envy.

The big moment in this process was, of course, the unveiling of the big dress. Needless to say, Tom had never seen the wedding gown before and watched with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation as Consuela and Kate carefully unwrapped it. A 1950s original in pale yellow silk, it had a simple, classic elegance to it that put many more modern confections to shame. They helped him step into the dress and slid his arms into the sleeves as they pulled the gown up, buttoning it both at the back and near the waist on the left hand side. A small amount of tugging and adjusting, some smoothing and fluffing and Tom's dressers declared themselves satisfied by means of a simultaneous sigh. As the other women carefully put his veil in place, the two bridesmaids arrived. Like Kate, they were already garbed in their meringue-like dresses and ready to go. The only person missing now was the father of the bride, and Consuela Carter already had her phone out, summoning Herb Carter for his role in their only child's big day.

In the main marquee, seated in a chair directly in front of the waiting minister, Gina Carter fingered the stiff, starched collar of her shirt, wishing it was softer and her tie less tight. It had never occurred to her that men's clothes could be so uncomfortable. Sighing, she realized she was experiencing a newfound sympathy for and understanding of just why most men now refused to wear suits save for big formal occasions and work, and the latter only when absolutely insisted upon by their employers. It was an interesting discovery but one she'd have forgone in a heartbeat, like her experience of masturbating as a man, if she could be back in her own body and about to walk down that aisle in her beautiful wedding dress. Glancing around, she marvelled again at the star power of the big name celebrities filling the rows of seats behind her. Everyone who was anyone on the Hollywood A-list was here and even a former President, a testament to Tom's fund-raising efforts on behalf of the Democratic party. Across the aisle from her were her friends and family, while in the chairs next to her were Tom's parents, family and friends. In the chair directly adjacent to her, of course, was the best man, Tom's childhood friend Joe Caswell. Where Tom had climbed to the top of the Hollywood tree, Joe had stayed in Iowa and now owned a small string of auto repair shops, but through it all they had remained friends and stayed in touch.

"Feeling nervous, old buddy?" asked Joe, sotto voce, noticing Gina's discomfort.

"Just a bit," replied Gina. She was mostly trying to avoid talking to Joe too much since she had only met him once before this and so figured she was more likely to make a slip up with him than Tom was with Kate. No, far better to play it this way and hope he put her terseness down to wedding jitters on the part of his old buddy Tom.

Just when Gina was beginning to wonder if Tom was ever going to get there, the organist - a famous rock musician, of course - struck up 'Here Comes the Bride' and everyone rose to their feet, turning to see the bride appear at the top of the aisle. There were lots of smiles and gasps of appreciation, but Gina only scowled. That should be her in that gown and on her father's arm, her holding the bridal bouquet and walking down the aisle to be joined in matrimony with the groom. She watched enviously as Tom glided down the aisle, bridesmaids carrying his train, bulbs flashing all around as the official photographers and many of the guests sought to get that perfect picture. There had been far fewer flashes when Gina had arrived, despite her appearing to be hot young star Tom Hudson. She bit her lip. She didn't know if she could go through with this.

"Hang in there, Tom", Joe whispered to her, sensing her wavering, "This is no time to be getting cold feet."

Tom arrived before the minister and stood alongside Gina, glancing up briefly. Gina managed a thin smile in return, but if there was a reaction it was obscured by Tom's veil.

"Dearly beloved", intoned the minister, "we are gathered here today to witness the bringing together of this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony...."

Tom was only half-listening as the minister said the words of the marriage ceremony, his mind being on the huge number of photographs that had been taken of him and his wedding dress, first in a number of carefully posed shots in the small guest house (including some close-ups for the make-up artist's portfolio), and then in the short walk from the house to the marquee. There was a roped-off area from behind which carefully selected representatives of the world's press were being allowed to take pictures for their next editions. Tom had posed prettily for them, turning this way and that and lifting his veil so they could get good shots. Overhead, several TV news helicopters buzzed around taking aerial shots for those watching this live at home. The rest of official photographs, carefully posed and arranged, would be taken later - the exclusive rights had been sold in advance to a glossy celebrity magazine - but the sheer candlepower generated already by the bank after bank of flashbulbs fired off at him was pretty impressive. Tom's reverie was broken by the minister reaching the crucial part of the marriage service.

"Do you, Thomas, take this woman to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

"I do", said Gina.

"And do you, Gina, take this man to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

"I do", said Tom, barely suppressing a gulp.

"Then by the authority vested in me by the Church and by the state of California, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Tom turned to Gina, who carefully lifted his veil. He saw a pang of jealousy in her eyes as she caught sight of just how gorgeous the make-up artists had made him look, but she quickly hid this, bent forward, and kissed his painted lips. The guests burst into spontaneous applause, catching them both by surprise, and even Gina managed a smile as they made their way up the aisle and the first waves of rice started to rain down on them.

This trip outside was to give the world's press a chance to snap them together, and they dutifully posed and kissed as required. Inevitably, the bride attracted the most interest, and Tom once again found himself the center of attention.

"Okay, guys, that's all. We've got the reception to get to." said Gina after a few minutes. The assembled press corps grumbled a bit at this, but they were mostly happy with the access they had been given and trooped away contentedly. Their part in the proceedings was over. From here on only the official photographers got to take more pictures. This was the point at which Tom & Gina went into a special small marquee which had been set up with all the equipment, lights, and backdrops needed to take the official wedding shots. Their families, best man, maid of honour, and bridesmaids were waiting for them, and the next half hour was spent taking a multitude of posed pictures featuring all the traditional arrangements of people. Then it was on to the reception.

The reception was held in the larger of the three marquees, with tables set with silver and crystal, and arranged around a central ice sculpture of the bride and groom incorporating a fountain not of water but of champagne. Chandeliers hung from the marquee's roof struts, Persian rugs graced the floor, and the caterers were all dressed in powdered wigs and period livery. The food, of course, was magnificent. In other words, it was just the sort of opulent display expected at an A-list Hollywood bash. The guests accepted this as their natural due, but it was all a bit more than an average guy like Joe Caswell was used to. At first his best man speech was a bit hesitant, and he seemed flustered by the realization of just who he was giving the speech to, but he quickly recovered and soon hit his stride, telling the sort of scurrilous and outrageous tales about the groom expected on these occasions. The guests laughed in all the right places, to Joe's immense relief and pleasure, and no one noticed that it was the bride and not the groom who looked mortified by his stories.

After the reception, everyone made their way to the main house. From here on it was party time - no cameras allowed - and everyone would let their hair down. Tom and Gina got the dancing started, then the best man and Gina's proud father each took their turn dancing with the bride. Tom found that letting them lead felt odder than the fact he was dancing with them at all and wondered if Gina felt as weird dancing with Kate. Music was provided by Deathsperm, who proved surprisingly adept at the more restrained music expected at a wedding, lead singer Coyote Dingo (real name Jacob Horowitz) having a lot sweeter voice than anyone hearing him scream and snarl the lyrics of the average Deathsperm track would have guessed. He also looked unexpectedly good in a tux.

Tom and Gina circulated, together and individually, accepting the congratulations of friends, family, and the great and the powerful of the business. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the drink flowed freely. Smoking being forbidden indoors (unusually for a model, Gina was a non-smoker) the tables around the swimming pool inevitably became the area where the smokers congregated. Tom wandered out at one point, casting an eye over those present, seeing lots of producers and directors enjoying very large, very expensive Cuban cigars. At one table he spied Kate lighting cigarettes for herself and a dark haired woman he recognized but whose name he could not recall. She was a TV newscaster, he remembered, and Kate's lover. They were sitting at a table with others from Tempest, the model agency who represented Kate. These were Peter and Janice Cochran, the husband and wife team who owned the agency, and Nancy De Niro the flame-haired beauty who was their top girl, the only international supermodel currently on their books. Kate was nationally famous, particularly as a swimsuit model, but had never managed to achieve the same status and level of international success as Nancy and Gina had. Tom wondered idly if being openly gay had held her back. He briefly debated joining their table then decided against it. He and Gina had so far managed to avoid suspicion, but spending a lot of time in conversation with her best friend could be too big a risk.

Though the party showed no sign of slowing down, it was eventually time for Tom and Gina to slip away to the big guest house. When they arrived at the door, Gina turned to Tom and said, bitterly:

"I still can't believe I had to get married in your body! What a disaster! I'm supposed to be the bride wearing the wedding gown, not you! Shall I continue this farce and carry you across the threshold?"

Gina shocked herself with her vehemence, and was dismayed at the effect on Tom. The sight of him standing there in the wedding gown, eyes now brimming with tears, instantly melted her heart.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry." she said, taking him in her arms, "I shouldn't be taking out on you. This has to have been hard for you, too."

"And I'm sorry, too", he sniffled, "This has ruined your wedding day."

"Oh no, no. This isn't how I wanted it to be, but marrying you is the best thing I've ever done."

She kissed him lightly on the lips, then in one movement scooped him up and carried him over the threshold of the big guest house. As she put him down, she said:

"I've just realized... it must be twelve hours since we switched bodies. That means we can switch back now."

For a moment they just stood there, looking at each other, then Tom broke the spell.

"I'll get the medallion." he said. He knew what she had been thinking because he had been thinking the very same thing, but as momentarily intriguing as the idea was, neither of them would have really been comfortable trying sex as the other tonight. The day had been too fraught. Tom was greatly relieved to find the medallion where he had left it, having no more desire for the switch to be permanent than Gina did. Holding one edge, he offered the medallion to Gina. The instant she touched it, both of them felt the familiar tingle.

"We'd better get out of our clothes", said Gina.

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot."

Gina sighed when Tom slipped out of the wedding gown to reveal the lingerie she had so carefully selected for this night.

"I so wanted to surprise you with that sexy underwear."

"Oh sweetie, you did!" said Tom, giving her a little hug. "Of course, the real surprise is that I was the one who got to wear it."

Despite herself, Gina laughed at that, the first real laugh she had had all day. It felt good. She could see that Tom was already starting to change back. He looked taller, his hair was slowly getting lighter, and his breasts were perceptibly smaller than they had been a few minutes earlier.

"Guess I'd better get this make-up off", he said, sitting down at a dressing table and reaching for the cold cream.

"It's almost a shame to have to destroy such a work of art", said Gina, "Almost."

Naked, they watched each other gradually revert to their true shapes over the next half hour. It was a totally fascinating thing to see, the slow morph of one person into another before your very eyes, like a special effect made flesh. When the changes slowed, then stopped, they reached for each other. Tentative at first, they gently kissed, caressing the other's body and becoming more and more aroused. What followed was the best sex either had ever had, whether because their experience in each other's bodies of from relief at regaining their own neither could have said, but it was a fine way of ending their wedding day, washing away the tension between them.

Standing on the deck of his boat two weeks later, Tom tossed the Medallion of Zulo from one hand to the other and gazed out at the sun-dappled ocean. They were a few miles west of Catalina island, Gina was relaxing on a deck recliner at the prow, shielded from the sun by a parasol. She had a session for Godiva coming up soon and the cosmetics house would not be happy if she turned up tanned. As tempting as the power of the medallion was, Tom was more worried that an accident might occur and one or both of them might permanently lose their beautiful bodies, bodies that were in large part the source of their fame and wealth. No, he had to get rid of it. His first thought had been to return it to Max Weston and the unfortunate Jeff because it wasn't right for Jeff to remain with the body of a cheerleader against his will. However, while Tom was sure this was the right thing to do, any return address would have been on the mailing wrapper and this had not been saved. All his attempts to locate Max and Jeff had proved fruitless. Reluctantly, he had accepted he was never going to find them. So here he was now, hefting the medallion and contemplating the cold Pacific waters off Catalina. Tossing the medallion in the air one last time, he caught it then threw it out over the waves, watching it hit with a satisfying plop and sink beneath the surface. Yes, the medallion was amazing, but no one should have such power. Tom was relieved it was now gone forever.

(In this he was quite wrong, of course. The medallion was swallowed by a passing shark as it sank towards the ocean bed, which was in turn caught by a big game angler, three days later and several hundred miles up the coast. The angler landed the shark, cut it open, and found several strange items in its stomach. The medallion was back in circulation less than a week after Tom had disposed of it 'forever'.)

Tom made his way to the prow to kiss his wife. She responded enthusiastically and what had been intended merely as an affectionate peck in passing quickly became much, much more. Afterwards, with Gina snuggled up against him, Tom shuddered as he remembered that moment on the threshold, how he thought in that instant he had lost Gina, and how devastated he had felt. He had promised that on their first anniversary they would have a ceremony to reaffirm their vows. There wouldn't be anywhere near the same level of press interest, of course, but she would finally get to wear her wedding dress, their family and friends would be there, and he was sure it would be a wonderful and moving occasion. He was determined to make it up to her.

When the medallion had first shown up, a week or so before the wedding Tom had snorted in derision as he read the accompanying note. Not that this stopped him from putting it on and rubbing one of Gina's blouses across it. His panic as he began to change and his horror that the damn medallion actually worked as advertised, were replaced by stunned amazement when the process was done and he was a dead ringer for his fiancee. In the first couple of hours of his transformation, he explored his new body far more thoroughly than Gina would later manage in his, bringing himself to orgasm after orgasm until he was drenched, exhausted, and very, very content. Afterwards, sitting in front of a mirror and studying his new form in minute detail, a plan began to form. He decided that he not Gina would be the bride when they got married. Walking up and down in Gina's highest heels to get in as much practise as possible, Tom worked out the details. On the morning of the wedding he would put the medallion and the note somewhere where Gina couldn't miss it. Then, after saying he was going on his morning run, he would secretly watch her through the window, 'returning' from his run soon after she found it and engineering the switch. It had all worked perfectly, too, the only bad moment coming at the threshold of the big guest house. It wasn't until then he realized just how bitter she was about what had happened, and he was terrified he'd blown it. Thinking about it now, knowing how hurt Gina had been, he wondered if he would have done things any differently.

And he knew that he wouldn't.

Years ago, Tom's father had said something to him that he had never forgotten.

"Son," he said, "the one thing you have to remember about weddings is that the groom, whoever he is, is only the supporting player. The star of the show is always the bride."

Not at Tom Hudson's wedding. He was always the star, never a supporting player.

And thanks to the Medallion of Zulo, that's the way it was.

© 2002 by BobH