My daughter’s girlfriend was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, bless her. More boobs than brains. But it turned out she had a certain kind of low cunning. And a black-market Mind Swapper.

I’d driven them both to their college exams that morning. My daughter hopped out of the car as we pulled up, while her girlfriend lingered in the backseat.

"Sorry about this, Mister Johnson," she said.

A steel probe pressed against the back of my skull. A jolt of electricity seared through my brain.

And then there I was, on the backseat, in her body. She was apologetic, but frank and forceful, using the strength of my body to drive home how helpless I was, as she twisted the Mind Swapper from my dainty grasp.

"You see, Mister Johnson, if I don't pass this test, my life is, like, totally over. But you're super smart! And your life is, like, pretty sweet. A hot dad bod, a gorgeous wife... So, if I bomb the exam, I’ll just keep your life instead! Win-win!"

I sit in the gymnasium, heart thudding. The teacher places the test paper on my desk, peering down my sweater as he does so. I crane over the over the top of my own cleavage to see it, licking my full lips nervously, tasting her waxy lipstick.

It's fine. Everything is fine. It's a simple test. I've fifty years of experience. How hard could it possibly be? I stare at the first question.

... What's her name again?!