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Taker-Torrie: The Undertaker in Torrie Wilson's body

Torrie-Taker: Torrie Wilson in the Undertaker's body


Jericho-Vince had just thought of something important. How the hell were they going to work the body switching machine? He had remembered Vince McMahon saying that the buttons had some kind of different language on them. Jericho himself was multilingual, but he and Vince knew the same languages and if Vince didn't recognize the language on there then how would he?

"There's only one person who can work that damn machine," Jericho-Vince decided. He wondered where the hell he would find Torrie Wilson at this time of the evening. Then he figured he'd go and ask the little young lady over at the check-in desk.

"Hey there, pretty lady," Jericho-Vince said to the woman. "How's it going?"

"It's going pretty great, Mr. McMahon," she said with a smile. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Well, I was wondering if you could tell me if one of my WWE divas, Torrie Wilson, was staying here tonight?"

"Let me check," she said. She started typing away on her computer, and a minute later, she looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "There's no Torrie Wilson here... Isn't she that blonde girl though?"

"Yeah, she's a blonde bimbo," he answered. When she gave him a funny look, he quickly corrected himself. "Yes, she's a blonde."

"I saw a blonde chick come in here on the Undertaker's arm. Would you like to check his room?" she asked.

"Oh, that would be great," he said, leaning on the desk and giving the girl the once-over. Nice, but compared to Stephanie this chick was nothing.

"His room is located on the 4th floor, room 404," she said.

"Thanks so much," Jericho-Vince said, and then started to run across the lobby.

He must've forgotten whose body he was in and how old it really was, because he was so surprised when one second he was running like the wind and the next second he was flat on his face on the carpet.

"You ok, Mr. McMahon?" came some random person's concerned question.

"Ow! Shit! Yeah, I'm alright," Jericho-Vince said, rubbing his leg. The stupid thing had just went out on him. He turned over and sat there on his ass for a minute. Then, he got up and limped over to the elevator. The sooner he found Torrie, the better!


The Undertaker was up in his room, holding a beer can in one hand and a remote in the other. Torrie Wilson sat on the bed next to him, babbling on about some random shit. It took all Taker had not to grab a shirt or something and tie it around her mouth so she wouldn't be able to talk.

"And so then when she said that, I just told her to shut the hell up!" Torrie finished. She giggled and then looked over at him, waiting to see what he would say.

"Ha ha," he forced himself to say. "Why don't you take your own advice sometimes?"

There was silence in the room. Well, silence, for about 10 seconds before Torrie opened her mouth again.

"Taker, um, about that spanking you promised..." she began slowly and carefully.

"Yeah? What about it?" Taker asked, downing another beer.

It was his 5th beer since he'd brought Torrie back to his room. He was turning into "Stone Cold" Steve Austin, and it was all Torrie's fault. The silly girl was making him drink. She was so dumb, he couldn't believe he'd actually brought her back to is room! It had to be her looks. Yeah, that was it.

"Can I have it now?" she asked shyly.

"Fine, fine, if that means you won't talk again for the rest of the night," he said grudgingly.

"Oh, I promise I won't talk again tonight. My lips are sealed!" she said happily. She zipped her lips and made a motion of throwing the key away. "See, I just threw away the key!"

Taker sighed, then pulled her over his lap and pulled her pants down.

"Your butt's awfully pale," he noticed.

"I know. It's like... I'm like a dead girl or something. Isn't it weird?" she asked. "I bet your butt's pretty pale, too, since you're a dead man and all."

Last straw. He lifted his hand high up in the air and brought it down hard on her butt. She squealed and he laughed when his huge handprint showed up red on her butt. He raised his hand in the air and was just about to bring it down again when there was a frantic pounding on the door. He stood up quickly, glad for any interruption, and walked over to the door, not caring at all when Torrie fell on the floor. When he opened it, he was surprised to find Vince McMahon standing there.

"I need Torrie," Jericho-Vince said as soon as Taker opened the door. "Are you willing to let me borrow her for maybe half an hour?"

"Vince, I love you!" Taker said, giving Jericho-Vince a bear hug. "Borrow Torrie and don't bring her back, please!"

"Don't hug me, ass clown. Just give me the girl!" Jericho-Vince said impatiently.

"I don't n-need no attitude from you, Vince," Taker said. "Or you won't get the girl."

Jericho-Vince didn't want to hear this shit Taker was talking. Without really considering the consequences, he punched him as hard as he could in the stomach.

Taker doubled over onto his knees. Jericho-Vince limped into the room and grabbed Torrie's arm. "Let's go!"

When they walked by Taker again, Jericho-Vince kicked Taker in the ass as hard as he could. "That'll teach you to treat me like I'm a commoner like yourself. Ass clown." Then he laughed and pulled Torrie out into the hall.

"Did you get a tattoo of a hand on your ass?" Jericho-Vince asked, noticing the huge handprint on her butt.

"I don't think I did. But maybe that's what the doctor was doing when he made me lay on my stomach and started probing me with that really big tool in my butt," she said.

"Oh gosh, you're clueless," Jericho-Vince said, shaking his head. He dragged her down the hall with her pants still down and her ass flashing those who were lucky enough to be around to see it.


"The Undertaker is going to kick my ass!" Jericho-Vince muttered as he dragged Torrie Wilson out of the limo and into the arena a few minutes later. Just the thought made him head to Torrie's locker room even faster.

"What are we doing back here?" Torrie asked as they got closer and closer to her locker room.

"Hello, you have to switch my body back," Jericho-Vince said. "I mean, can't you tell I'm not Vinnie Mac?"

"Oh, you aren't? But you look so much like him!" Torrie said. "I never knew he had a twin!"

"Damn, I never knew you were so dense!" Jericho-Vince exclaimed as they finally reached her locker room.

"Thanks for the compliment," she said, beaming. "No one has ever called me that before."

Jericho-Vince rolled his eyes and shoved her into the locker room, locking the door behind them.

"Finally, you slow ass," Vince-Jericho exclaimed. "You took forever, so I had to find something interesting to do while I waited."

"Dude, my fly is open. Have you been..." Jericho-Vince raised an eyebrow.

"What's this wet stuff on the wall?" Torrie asked, pointing at where some sticky white globs of something was slowly dripping down the wall next to them.

"You really don't know?" Jericho-Vince asked her with an incredulous look on his face.

"No. Maybe I should taste it." She reached a finger out and caught a little drop on her finger, then brought it up to her mouth. Both men watched her as she tasted it... "Tastes pretty good! Did you make that, Vince?"

"Yep," Vince-Jericho said with a smile. "Now can you... What the hell are you doing?"

"We can't let this stuff go to waste!" Torrie exclaimed, eagerly licking the wall. "It tastes really good!"

Vince-Jericho and Jericho-Vince looked at each other with identical looks of awe on their faces.

Just then, there was a fierce pounding on the door. "Open up, Vince! I know your snobby ass is in there, and I'm gonna get you, sucka!" Taker yelled from the other side of the door. He was rubbing his butt because it was hurting from where he'd been kicked. NO ONE kicked him in the ass and got away with it!

"Quick! In the machine!" Jericho-Vince yelled. Vince-Jericho disappeared inside the machine, but Torrie kept licking the wall. "You can lick the mess off the wall later, Torrie. Come on!" He dragged her kicking and screaming into the machine, just as the door to the locker room fell down and Taker stepped inside.

"Start pushing buttons already!" Vince-Jericho screamed as Taker stormed over to the machine.

Taker stepped inside just as the machine started to shake. "Oh no, not this again!" The beer in his stomach was getting all shaken up. "Make it stop!" he wailed, but of course they couldn't have stopped it anyway. The shaking proved to be too much, and suddenly Taker's face turned a sickly shade of green.

Throw up went everywhere. They all tried to avoid it but their attempts were in vain. They all got covered, except for Chris Jericho's body. Taker let out a loud burp. Then the machine stopped shaking and they all just stood there looking at each other.

"I have my body back...and it's not drenched in puke!" Jericho exclaimed happily. He looked around at the other three. "I'm never, eeeeeeeever coming back to Smackdown again!" He got the hell out of there as fast as he could and ran for his life, headed for the parking garage and eventually to the penthouse suite at the most expensive hotel in the city, where he hoped Stephanie was still in the jacuzzi.

The other three stood in the machine just looking at each other. They all seemed to be in some kind of a daze.

"Well, I have my body back," Vince McMahon said. He looked down at his expensive suit, which was covered in puke that reeked of beer. It was ruined. Without saying another word, he started to leave the machine.

"Wait. I'm not through with you!" Taker's voice said, but it came from Torrie's body. "Come back here, McMahon!"

"You'll never catch me, fat ass!" Vince yelled, and took off running, only to find himself sitting flat on his own ass a few seconds later. "My leg! Oh, the pain!"

"I got you now!" Taker-Torrie said, smiling mischievously as Vince backed up into a corner. He put his hand around Vince's neck and brought him to a standing position. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson about kicking me in my ass!"

"What's going on in here?" came a voice. The door to the locker room had just opened, and JBL had entered the room.

JBL watched as Torrie Wilson's body dragged Vince McMahon to his feet, then proceeded to pick him up and chokeslam him through the floor.

"And that's what you get for messing with the deadman!" Taker-Torrie exclaimed. He rolled his eyes up into the back of his head and cut his throat. Seconds later, he gave Vince a Last Ride that left Vince laid out somewhere below the floor.

"Hey, baby, how's it going?" Torrie-Taker said to JBL in a flirty voice. Of course, JBL knew nothing of the body switching machine so he thought Taker was hitting on him.

"What the hell? I'm getting out of here!" JBL looked around the room with eyes as wide as saucers, then ran for his life just like Jericho had done only minutes before. He knew he was going to be needing some serious therapy after seeing that shit!

Taker-Torrie turned around to look at Torrie-Taker. "Now switch us back."

Torrie-Taker didn't hesitate. They got into the machine, which reeked of puke, and were switched back immediately.

Taker left the locker room minutes later. Vince McMahon, covered in puke that smelled like beer, was still laid out from the chokeslam and the Last Ride and Torrie Wilson was (what else?) licking the wall...

And that's the end, folks! Sorry, I didn't know what to say but I had to end this story. I got bored with it and ran out of ideas...