Okay.  Since everybody abused me for being a wrestling fan, I decided to 
torture you all by writing a sequel.  This is a sequel with a twist, as it hopeful 
spawn the first group writing project of this list.  As you will see from the 
story, I and 5 fellow TG writers have gone to the same wrestling match as in 
part one.  We also get switched.  I have written so far.  The next writer in line 
will hopefully pick up on the storyline and continue it.  The next writer will 
hand off to another writer of his choice, and so on.  You have to pick one of 
the writers in the story.

The six female characters are the Nitro Girls, basically professional 
wrestling's version of the Laker Girls.  They are as follows:

Kimberly- tall brunette, leader of the Nitro Girls Frye-Redhead of the group 
Spice- short perky blonde with short hair AC Jazz-taller blonde/brunette 
Chae- Oriental girl Tayo- Small black girl

If anybody needs a picture, let me know.  I will E-Mail you.

Since my character leaves off talking to Morpheus, that is who I hand off to.  
Each writer must tell what happens to him, which Nitro Girl he ends up in, 
what happens from his perspective, and continue the story a little further.  It's 
written from the first person point of view.

Remember . . .this is fun.  All the poking in this story is good natured fun.

Raven

The Great Shift: The Shift Hits the Fan II: The Best Two Out Of Three Falls 

Part 1
by Raven

We were all there.  I could never tell you what possessed the group of us to 
go to a professional wrestling event, but there we were.  Instead of getting 
together to talk about TG story lines and collaborations, or to watch TG 
movies, I, Raven talked my fellow list members into going to Monday Nitro 
at the Miami Arena.

Caleb Jones, Steve Zink, and Morthien drove down from up north.  Eric and 
Morpheus flew in from wherever they hail from.  The six of us were quite a 
group!

Between Eric's bragging about how great he was/is and Morpheus' rambling 
about the 1001 story lines he was writing, it was impossible to get a word in 
edgewise!  Not the I would have spoken much any way because as the 
Raven, I tend to be dark, brooding and serious.

You can imagine the shock of my fellow writers when I suggested we go to 
see the nWo/WcW at Monday Nitro.  They all looked at me like I had three 
eyes.  (I imagined that it was the exact same way they looked at their 
computer screens when they get one of my stories) Reluctantly, they agreed, 
since I was the host of this little S. Fla. soiree.  You can call it a pre-TG Film 
Festival get together.

The only problem that we had was with Eric, who's ego was hard to get 
through the door!

Nevertheless, there we were . . . at ringside no less!  We all checked the 
crowd to figure out what kind of mutants of humanity attend wrestling 
matches.  Let me tell you, there were some real slices of life in "That there" 
audience, as they would say.

Eric kept shaking his head in utter disbelief, which was a feat in an of itself 
considering his swollen sense of self importance, babbling, "I can't believe 
that Raven drug us to WRESTLING!  The mind boggles!"

In order to calm Eric down, Caleb suggested a game that we could play, 
while awaiting the start of the matches.

He suggested, "Each of us has to find a girl or woman in the crowd that you 
want to switch bodies with.  When each of us have made out picks, we'll 
compare to see who has the best taste."

Everybody heartily agreed, although the opinion was uniform that I would 
pick the shortest blonde with the biggest boobs.  There wasn't one dissenting 
vote.  I couldn't help but laugh mentally about how wrong they were.  My 
colleagues were gonna be so shocked when I picked a woman approximating 
my true taste . . . an exemplar of Sandra Bullock.  Just because I write about 
petite busty blondes didn't mean that I wanted to BE one.

Not that I'd complain much if I ended up in such a body!  I suspect that each 
of us had our own particular reasons for our fascination with TG.  Mine was 
simplicity in an of itself . . . to understand the object of my affections 
completely and totally.

I suspect Eric's was to be rid of his repulsive real body.  It confounded me 
how someone who's spelling and grammar is so poor, and is physically so 
ugly, could have such an exalted opinion of himself?

True to form, we'd all made our selections . . . except for Eric.  He couldn't 
find anybody good enough for him.  Sheesh!

"C'mon Eric.  Hurry up," I bitched, smiling at the irony.  "The matches are 
getting ready to start already."

Everybody got me to ease up on the poor guy, insisting that I was being way 
too tough on him.  Maybe I was.  I don't think I ever really forgave him for 
his story, "The Test," overtaking my story, "Daisy," as the most read, all 
time story on Fictionmania.  What can I say . . . I'm jealous!  I have always 
felt the success of that story was manufactured, while "Daisy" was the real 
deal.

I guess it got lost in the shuffle that I really do think Eric is a talented writer.  
Hmmmm, I thought.  Maybe Eric isn't the one with the big ego after all . . . I 
am.  That sobering realization made me shut my trap.

Eric could take all of the time in the world, if he wanted.

We never got to our game as the show was starting.  It was a shame. I'd 
picked out a pretty young brunette, of Latin origin, that I was positive would 
stun everybody.  However, it would have to wait until later.  I always did 
like the exotic woman, Hispanic, Oriental, and even African-American, rather 
than the cliche' blue eyed blonde.

Eric, Caleb, Zink, Morthien, Morpheus, and I ate our food, and drank our 
drinks, as we listened to the instructions given to us by the ring announcer, 
David Pinzer.  There were all of these rules that we had to follow, since we 
were going to be on nationwide television on TNT!  Wouldn't the rest of the 
list members be so surprised when they learned that some of their favorite TG 
writers were at PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING!

I couldn't help but chuckle again.

"What are you laughing about?" asked Zink.

"Oh, nothing.  Did you find the Catwoman up in the audience?" I returned.

"No," Steve answered me.  "I'm still trying though!  This doesn't strike me a 
place where she would hang out."

We shared a laugh together, before I was able to add one more snippet of wit.  
"You never know.  If memory serves, she is a jewel thief.   One of the better 
wrestlers here is Diamond Dallas Page!"

We laughed again.  In fact, all of our fellow writers who overheard our 
conversation laughed with us.  They were all having a good time, regardless 
of the fact they were truly fish out of water.  Check that.  It was hard to tell if 
Morpheus was having a good time.  He was too busy writing in a tablet that 
he'd carried with him to the matches.

Does the guy EVER stop writing?  

I stopped my mental inquiry right there and then.  It was another example of 
my professional jealousy because the guy was taking over my reputation as 
the most prolific writer on the list.

I listened to the ring announcer instead.

David Pinzer announced over the loudspeaker.  "Tonight we have three hours 
of great excitement for you.  The main even will be a tag team match between 
nWo Hollywood and nWo Wolf Pac.  Wrestling for nWo Hollywood will be 
Hollywood Hogan and Bret "The Hitman" Hart."

There were a smattering of cheers and boos rippling through the crowd.

"Wrestling for the Black and Red will be Lex Lugar.  His partner will be 
Sting . . . ."

There were cheers for Lugar, but at the mere mention of Sting there was 
thunderous cheers.  As soon as the din died down, the ring announcer 
continued with the run down of matches.  I thought the roof was going to 
blow off of the Miami Arena at the mere mention of the name, "Goldberg."

The crowd began to chant the mantra, "GOLD-BERG, GOLD-BERG, 
GOLD-BERG . . . ."

Caleb leaned over to me from my left to ask, "Who's Goldberg?"

"Only THE most awesome wrestler in the world today!" I replied haughtily.  
"He is undefeated after all."

I guess I just expected somebody as well informed as Caleb to know 
everything about everything.  After all, when I need something edited, he is 
the one that I ask.   I guess even the great and wonderful Caleb has his limits.  
Now that I thought about it, Morthien is the only other writer that I have 
conversed with at length over the Internet about wrestling.

"Oh," returned Caleb.

The ring announcer informed us further, "Also in action tonight, you will see 
Raven and his flock . . . ."

Now Morthien had a self evident question for me.  "THAT'S where you got 
your name from!  I am sooo blind.  I should ave seen that sooner."

All of our conversations about wrestling and he never figured it out.  Then 
again, I don't think anybody ever did!

Then Morthien added, "Hey!  Does that mean we're your Flock?"

I smirked, "Absolutely."

Still the ring announcer droned on," . . . . but first, we have a real treat for 
you.  The Nitro Girls!"

In the back of the arena, the WcW set up a stage entrance, with the Monday 
Nitro logo.  There was a ramp leading from the stage entrance to ringside.  
The overhead lights dimmed, while the colored lights near the stage entrance 
came to life.  There was smoke and a display of sparkling fireworks.

Loud Rock n' Roll music came over the sound system.

I thought to myself, the guys are gonna like these girls.  Maybe NOW Eric 
could pick out a girl that he would like to become!  In fact, I suspected that all 
of my fellow TG authors may change their minds when the got sight of the 
Nitro Girls.  I know I would.

The Nitro Girls danced down the ramp and aisle, as the made their way to 
ringside, and ultimately the ring itself.  They were all there, Kimberly Page, 
wife of Diamond Dallas Page, A.C. Jazz, Spice, Chae, Frye and, of course 
Tayo. They were dressed in silver lame hot pants, skimpy bra-like tops, and 
calf length white leather boots.  Their out fits didn't leave much to the 
imagination, and all around me I could see drool form in the mouths of their 
male admirers.

Even Eric was impressed.  I could tell by his monosyllabic utterance, 
"WOW!"  The real shocker was Morpheus, who stopped writing in his 
notebook long enough to look up.  He even watched them for a bit before 
returning to scribble furiously.

I could only imagine that the dancing girls gave Morpheus still another story 
idea.  I second later . . . he stopped sharply.

"Uh . . . guys?  Did anybody else bring a pen or pencil?  My pen's out of 
ink!"

We all sighed heavily at out ambitious colleague, then crumbled our empty 
cups or food wrappers into balls.  Morpheus was deluged under and 
avalanche of garbage.

Zink nudged Morpheus, "Take a break man.  Enjoy the show."

Morpheus shrugged his shoulders, then put his notebook away.  He got to 
his feet to join the rest of us slower writers.  Now he was getting into the 
spirit of the thing.  I think I even saw . . . gasp . . . Morpheus tapping his 
feet in time to the music.

The Nitro Girls swiveled, sashayed, and otherwise danced past us in a swirl 
of intoxicating perfume.  I glanced over to where Eric was standing beside 
Caleb, and thought he was going to pass out.  He was swooning so much 
over these girls, or one specific girl, that I thought he was going to lose it.

Fortunately, Caleb was holding Eric up.  At the very least, it was apparent 
that Eric FINALLY found a woman who was worthy of housing his mind!

I turned back to the action.  My wrestling kindred spirit, Morthien, and I 
were grooving to the Nitro Girls.

Morthien nudged me, "Hey Raven?  How would you like to be one of them . 
. . the Nitro Girls?"

I winked, "That sounds like a great story.  Which one would you be, if you 
had a choice, Morthien?"

"Hmmm.  That's a tough one.  I'd have to think about that one."

To make a long story short, the Nitro Girls made their way to the ring, where 
the performed a series of gymnastics or choreographed dance routines for the 
appreciative audience.  Their moves were sultry, smooth, sexy, and awe 
inspiring.

They got a standing ovation from the crowd, but especially we TG writers, 
when they were through.

Morthien whispered to me, "I know which one I'd be, if I had a choice."

I never got a chance to find out.  The Nitro Girls' music was replaced by the 
theme music to nWo Hollywood . . . the Black and White nWo.  We turned 
out heads in the direction of the stage entrance to see the members of that 
faction of the nWo emerge on the ramp way.  Oh, they were all there: Hogan, 
Eric Bishoff, The Giant, Bret Hart, Curt Hennig, Rick Rude, and last but 
certainly not least, Miss Elizabeth.  They started their characteristic strut and 
cavorting down the ramp and aisle.

Meanwhile, the Nitro Girls started to make their way back to the stage 
entrance on the far side of the aisle.  They made a special point of staying as 
far away from the nWo as possible, as they'd roughed up Kimberly Page a 
few weeks ago.  The nWo Hollywood had a real grudge going against 
Diamond Dallas Page, so Kimberly was an easy target.

Morthien and I reminded each other that it wasn't but a few weeks ago that 
the nWo trapped Kimberly in the ring, luring out DDP.  Once he appeared, 
the entire nWo back jumped him.  They beat him up, while the poor 
restrained Kimberly looked on.  They even called her a tramp and a slut . . . 
on national TV!

The Nitro Girls eased past the nWo.  After the passed the notorious wrestling 
faction, the once again filled the rest of the aisle to touch the hands of their 
fans.  By this time, they were just parallel to us on the outside of the steel 
barricades.  We literally could have reached out to touch them if we'd been so 
inclined.

Again, we never got the chance to make that choice.

Suddenly, the Miami Arena was shaken by what felt like a tremendous 
earthquake.  We all held on for dear like as the entire building trembled and 
quivered menacingly.  Still, Eric was able to yell at me above the din.

"Hey, Raven.  I didn't think you had earthquakes in Florida!"

I screamed back, "We don't!"

Just as suddenly, the shaking stopped.  However, we were all bombarded by 
a huge shock wave of some type of energy.  Whatever it was, it made me 
very disoriented as well as dizzy.  I checked on my cohorts, who were also 
experiencing the same thing as I, and their eyes were spinning around in their 
heads.

I saw a blackness closing in from all my fields of vision.  It looked like I was 
looking down a narrow tunnel.  I knew I only had a second of consciousness 
left so I reached out for something . . . anything . . . to anchor my descent.  
My hand touched the hand of another.

I passed out

**********

Consciousness returned to me sometime later.  How long . . . I could not say 
with any certainty.  The bright lights of the arena's overheard lights 
overloaded my optic nerves, although everything other then a sensation of 
light was blurry.  My ears were working just fine.

I heard a massive amount of screaming, yelling, and confusion from all 
around me.  a fear that there had been some unspeakable natural disaster 
gripped my heart.

Slowly, inevitably, my other sense began to check in, to advise me of my 
own personal status.  I was lying on a cool cement floor somewhere.  
Strangely enough, there wasn't any chairs or anything around me.  The cool 
air of the arena tickled my arms, shoulders, belly, and legs, but it didn't make 
any sense to me.  I was wearing a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt when 
I blacked out.  Now it felt like I was wearing little to nothing at all!

Had medics undressed me for some reason while I was unconscious?

My vision started to clear up.  I immediately realized that somehow I was on 
the other side of the steel barricades.  I was lying in the ramp/aisle that lead 
from the stage entrance to the squared circle.  The only thing that I could 
figure out was that I must have fallen over the railing when I passed out.  
That must have been one HELL of an earthquake!

What had happened to the rest of my fellow TG writer friends?

I had to find out, so I decided to sit up, rather than lay like a lump of flesh on 
the cement floor.  In an effort to clear my groggy brain and blurry vision 
further, I shook my head as I sat up.  Long dark, jasmine scented hair 
swirled all around me, falling into my eyes.

There was a sensation of weight, a sensation of jiggling on my chest.  In 
short I felt every sensation in real life that I'd described in my stories.  For I 
found myself suddenly . . . amazingly . . . in the body of a woman.

Everywhere around me were the bodies of the Nitro Girls, dressed in their 
skimpy silver lame outfits.  They, just like me, were just getting into a sitting 
position.  Some where feeling themselves all over, as if for the first time.  
Others screamed, or just had a stunned look on their pretty faces.

That's when I knew that I wasn't the only one. Something truly incredible 
happened that had caused a massive displacement of minds into other bodies.  
Sure enough, a cursory inspection of the crowd quickly demonstrated that 
nearly everybody had befallen the same fate as I.

One question lingered in my mind.  Who was I now?  

I looked down over myself, past the large bulge of breasts on my chest.  The 
low cut top revealed a generous amount of cleavage.  After writing about this 
thing for so long, I wanted nothing more than to take those boobs into my 
hands and squeeze them.  Although others were now doing that very thing, 
now was neither the time, nor place, for such intimate self inspection.  

I did see enough to recognize the silver lame top worn by the Nitro Girls.  
Sure enough, the short shorts I now wore matched the top.  To the top of the 
waistband of those shorts was a flat smooth tummy.  To the bottom was a 
pair of shapely, hairless legs that slid effortlessly into white leather boots.

Yes.  I had switched bodies with one of the Nitro Girls!

Which one?  I looked over the rest of the Nitro Girls, keeping a list in my 
mind as I checked them ff one by one.  The role call was missing one of the 
girls . . . Chae.  All of the evidence added to one conclusion in the space of a 
single heartbeat.  The dark hair, the olive skin, the slender build with large 
breasts . . . I was now Chae!

I was the beautiful young Oriental Nitro Girl!

I had to find out where the rest of my compadres were.  I just had too.  
Therefore, I was able to get to my feet to do my role call.  The myriad of new 
and wonderful sensation that flooded my being were more than I could put 
into words.  Me, a writer, could not even begin to describe what it feels like 
to be a true girl after being a guy.  You would think that I would, after 
imagining it for so long.  Suffice it to say the reality of it far surpassed the 
written word.

Even walking around was glorious.  This was my written word come to life, 
for I was quite literally living my own story.  I was excited from the tips of 
my toes to my long manicured nails.  The feeling of long hair brushing 
against my neck, back, and shoulders thrill my very soul.  The ease of 
movement, including the void between my legs sent shivers up my . . . her . 
. . spin.

For the first time, I felt an incredible tension on my chest.  I knew it could 
only be one thing . . . my nipples were swelling in the excited rush of gaining 
a life long fantasy.  I was so happy that I wanted to exclaim my joy to the 
world from the highest mountain.  

It was hard to restrain my glee.  I wanted to jump up and down like . . . well 
. . . like a girl!

But if I had Chae's body, where was the real Chae?  Did she have my body?  
If she didn't, who did have my body.

I whirled around so that I faced the section of the arena where I was sitting.  a 
little farther down, I saw Miss Elizabeth talking to some guy in the stands.  
The guy looked like he was crying, and Miss Elizabeth was trying to comfort 
him in some way.  Hollywood Hogan was standing behind Hogan for 
support.  Beyond them, the wrestlers, just like everybody else in the Miami 
Arena, was looking down at themselves, touching themselves, or confronting 
another (whom I could only presume had possession of their real body).

I was finally able to locate my real body.  It . . . he . . . wasn't looking at me.  
In fact, it wasn't paying me the least bit of attention. It was talking to a mid 
aged lady several rows behind it.  The rest of my fellow TG writers were 
along side my old body looking through the audience.  None of them were 
looking toward the Nitro Girls.

From behind me, I heard a low male voice say, "Hey.  That's my body."

I turned once more to see the huge supra-muscular body of Goldberg.  The 
champ!  He was there in person, shaved head, goatee, and intimidating 
countenance and all.

"W-what?" I asked, hearing my voice for the first time.  It was music to my 
ears, although I wasn't in a particularly good position to appreciate it.

Goldberg said again, "I said, that's my body.  I'm really Chae, and I want 
my beautiful body back!"

I didn't know what to say.  I didn't WANT to give Chae her body back, and 
even if I wanted to, I didn't know if I could.  One thing was for certain: I 
didn't even want to see or speak to my old body unless I had to.  I was given 
a new life as a pretty girl by the Big Cat upstairs, so I didn't want to give it 
up.

"Uh . . . Chae?  I don't know how to tell you this, but it looks like 
everybody has been shifted.  I don't know what caused it, or if we can even 
get back.  We may be stuck like this forever."

It looked like the tough Goldberg was going to . . . cry?  He . . . she . . . 
inquired weakly, "Who were you?  I mean in real life?"

"Just a fan.  I'd rather not say my real name."  I didn't want her to know that 
a man now had her body.  Not only a man, but a TG writer who found this 
strange turn of events to be his wildest fantasy become incarnate.

"Then what do I call you?" added Goldberg/chae, a bit confused.

"Just call me Chae too," I said.  "I might as well go with the name that goes 
with this body."

"But I'm Chae," insisted the big man.

"Uh . . . not anymore.  You're the champ now!"

He/she couldn't even utter a word, numbed by the verbal reality.

I tried to get out of an uncomfortable situation, "Look.  I have to see what 
became of my friends.  I'll talk to you in a few minutes."

My eyes instinctively roamed back to the area where we were all seated.  All 
of the bodies of me and my fellow writers were gone.  There was, however, 
another Nitro Girl bending over to pick up a note book that had fallen to the 
floor in all of the confusion.  It was Morpheus' notebook!

I rushed over to the other Nitro Girl, asking gently, "Morpheus?"

She/he replied, "Uh-huh.  Who are you?"

"Raven.  Or . . . I was Raven.  Where are the rest of the guys?"

She pointed over to the rest of the Nitro Girls.  "There.  It looks like we ALL 
became the Nitro Girls.  I had to get my notebook to right this down.  The 
feelings are so wild."

I gripped her shoulders, "There's no need to write about it anymore.  We're 
living it . . . actually living everything that we wrote about."

The Nitro Girl with me beamed, "Hey.  You're right."

Without warning, I heard somebody clearing there voice over the 
loudspeaker.  I looked up into the ring to see Bobby "The Brain" Heenan 
with the ring microphone.

"Ahem.  If I can have your attention.  This is Bobby Heenan.  I am still 
myself, but I know that many of you are in different bodies.  W-we have 
gotten word from the authorities that approximately 90% of the world's 
population has been switched into knew bodies.  Please try to stay calm, and 
the officials from the arena will try to help you sort this out . . . find your 
family and friends.  We're doing what we can.  In the meantime, we would 
like everybody who is with either NWO or WCW, or anybody who is in one 
of their bodies to go back stage.  We have been given special instruction from 
the authorities.  Thank you, and try to remain calm.  You are not alone in 
your predicament."

Morpheus and I turned to go with the rest of our friends, in the bodies of the 
Nitro Girls back stage.  We were joined by everybody else currently having 
possession of a body belonging to the wrestling organization.

My thoughts were with the rest of the TG writers.  I couldn't wait to see who 
got what body, and more than that, what we were going to do with them.

I hoped Eric got the body of Tayo, the small black girl.  That would serve 
him . . . her right!

To be continued . . .