This is my newest story. I hope you like it. It has been on my computer for a while. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or the wrestlers in this story. I own only my ocs. This story is fiction and is to be taken that way. No Copyright Infringement Intended.

"Am I a sexpot or what?"

"Or what?"

Aubrie Mizanin laughed as she emerged from the Luscious Lingerie dressing room. "What do you think?" She thrust back her shoulders for maximum effect, straining the cotton threads of her cherry-red T-shirt. "Are these boobs or are these boobs?"

"I'd be really impressed." Her brother, Mike, observed dryly. "If more than fifty percent of them were actually yours."

"Very funny." She said, eyeing his own 40c's. "Considering yours are one hundred percent fa—"

"Hey, hey, hey, little sister." Mike said in his Michelle voice. He crossed his panty hosed legs, winced slightly, then uncrossed them quickly and stood instead. "Not in public. You wouldn't want to ruin my image, now, would you?"

Aubrie rolled her eyes, strutted past him to the store mirror, and stared at herself. "Wow. I'm built."

"Literally."

She scowled, but didn't answer him. The same blue eyes and mouse-brown hair stared back at her, but the sight of her artificially enhanced chest made her look foreign.

"Michelle's" pumps clicked on the tile floor as he clanked up to her and took in her image over Aubrie's shoulder. "Kinda makes you feel a little wicked, eh?"

"Wicked's not what I'm going for." Well, not completely anyway.

"Then you probably don't want them so pointy. Pointy definitely says 'wicked.'"

"What says 'bimbo'?"

"Cleavage. Lots of cleavage."

Aubrie glanced to her left and saw the store clerk eyeing them strangely. She could just imagine what the girl was thinking. "Back off, bro." She whispered over her shoulder. "People will talk."

Mike stepped back and glanced around. When he spotted the clerk, he gave her his best Michelle smile. "Would you be a dear and bring us one of your Pump You Ups?"

Aubrie was almost positive she didn't want to know, but she asked anyway, "What in Hades is a Pump You Up?"

"You'll see."

"Sure." The girl said. "Any particular color?"

"Oh red, definitely red." Mike said. The girl smiled and left.

"Doesn't she need to know what size?" Aubrie asked.

"No."

"Dare I ask why not?"

"It's all in the pump, toots."

"The pump." Aubrie said faintly. "This doesn't sound good."

"It's painless, I promise."

Aubrie glanced at her brother, dressed in his Michelle drag attire. It always amazed her how he fooled so many people with his female persona. Even with the wig and makeup and Donna Karan numbers, he still looked like Mike to her. How no one else had caught on all these years she couldn't fathom.

"Why are we Michelle today?" She asked him.

"Board meeting." He said, scowling as he took in his appearance in the mirror. "God, I hate this getup."

"I thought you said it would be over soon."

"Three months, two days, and eighteen hours, but who's counting?"

"How are you going to do it?"

"Michelle's going to send out a company-wide memo announcing a mandatory meeting. And then me, as me, will tell them all that their CEO has decided to seek new horizons and has named me, her general manager, to take charge."

Aubrie turned from the mirror. "You hate this charade. The company's doing well. Why are you keeping it up?"

"Because I feel obligated to my backer. He wanted a woman in charge; he got a woman in charge. Once I pay him off, I'm free. No more Michelle."

"I hope no one will fault you for the tiny deception if they find out the truth."

"Tiny?" Mike snorted. "Baby sister, I've been wearing drag for almost five years now, and I'm mighty sick of it."

Aubrie truly sympathized. Even though Mike had to don panty hose only on rare occasions, she knew how much he hated the ruse. So she quickly changed the subject. "Thanks again for letting me do my experiment at Rose Cosmetics." Aubrie said.

He waved. "Anything for my kid sister. But tell me, why are you doing this again?"

"Pure research." Sort of.

"Doesn't sound very pure to me, brainiac. Or scientific. Besides, you already turned in your thesis."

"It's not meant to be scientific. It's more like a case study. The sociologist in me wants to test a theory." Sort of.

"Testing a theory is going under cover as a busty bimbo?" He looked pretty skeptical.

Aubrie shrugged, but didn't respond. If she were totally honest with her brother, she'd have to admit that part of her just wanted to see how the other half lived. Being a bookish, lackluster nerd had begun to grow old after twenty-eight years.

"What's the title of your masterpiece again?" Mike asked.

"'An Ad Hoc Inquiry into the Contribution of Physical Presentation Toward Vocational Advancement Opportunities.'"

"Uh-huh. Translate that into English please?"

Aubrie threw back her shoulders and faced the mirror once again. "Who gets the job? The busy bimbo or plain-Jane Aubrie."

"One of these days Gramps and I will be able to convince you that you're beautiful just as you are."

"Sure you will." When hell hosts the Winter Olympics.

"Barrett will not hire the bimbo."

"Oh, I can almost guarantee he'll hire the bimbo."

"What's the bet?" Mike asked, waggling his Slap-on nails. "My company hires only the best. Barrett's not going to go for the busty-bimbo routine."

"I'm betting he will." Aubrie said, always ready to kick her brother's butt in any wager. "Name the stakes."

"Hmmm. All the laundry for one month?"

"Not a chance. I'm not washing your panty hose."

"Like I'd have a good time laundering your sweats. You don't exactly come home in pristine condition after your morning torture."

She could argue, but she'd lose. "Okay, how about this? If I win, you out on a date with the woman of my choosing."

"A blind date? I don't think so."

"You need to get a life, bro."

"Yeah, and you're just painting the town red. When was the last time you had a date?"

Aubrie was pretty sure it had still been the twentieth century, but enough about her. It was about time for Mike to find a good woman. He'd been working too hard for too long. Especially those times when he'd had to work in heels. "I win, I set you up."

"I win, I set you up. In fact, I know just the guy. He's doing some contract work for me at the office."

Aubrie hesitated only for a second, because she was fairly darn sure she'd win. She stuck out her hand. "Deal."

While Mike fidgeted in his girdle, Aubrie admired her bust in the mirror once more, strangely feeling like it changed her in some intrinsic way. "This being-built thing feels really different."

Mike frowned, looking like he wanted to argue her decision once again. But then he just shrugged his shoulders—which in Aubrie's opinion were way too wide for anyone to believe he was actually a woman. But he'd been fooling people for years now. People apparently saw what they wanted to see. And since Michelle was supposed to be Mike's twin, people figured the resemblance made sense. At least, that was the only explanation Aubrie could figure.

"When do your interviews start?" He asked.

"The busty, blond bimbo's is Monday morning. I'm Monday afternoon."

Mike laughed. "Oh jeez, Gramps is probably going to have a seizure. It's bad enough that his only grandson dresses in drag."

"He already knows about the plan." Aubrie said. "He's trying to be real twenty-first century about it. Besides, he understands it's just an experience."

"He probably heard Oprah—oh damn," Mike said going stiff.

Aubrie followed his gaze to spot a gorgeous brunette entering the store. "Someone you know?"

"Unfortunately. That's the crook, Nicole Miller."

"Nicole Miller? The president of Apple Day Cosmetics, Nicole Miller?"

"The one and only." Mike said, his voice coming out in a low growl that would have passersby wondering what kind of steroids Michelle Mizanin was ingesting.

"Uh-oh." Aubrie had heard plenty about Nicole Miller in the last few years. None of it flattering. "The competition."

"And the reason I just spent a fortune on a state-of-the-art security system. And why I had a setback paying off the loan. But soon this is all going to be over."

"A fortune on a security system. Why in the world?"

Another feral growl escaped his frowning lips. "That woman and Apple Day Cosmetics are just one too-small step behind us whenever we introduce new products."

Aubrie stared at her brother, whom she loved more than anyone else in the world, save Gramps. "You're not saying… she's stealing from you?" Indignation burrowed right up from her tummy to her throat. No one and she meant no one, messes with the only family she had left.

"Damn straight." He said. "And I'm going to prove it, and then Nicole Miller and Apple Day are going down hard. I almost relish the image of her wearing very unflattering stripes."

Mike glanced away and began to pretend great interest in a display of tiger-print thongs. But in the mirror, Aubrie could watch the woman behind her, and she knew the second Ms. Miller spotted him. The stunning lady hesitated a moment, then came strolling over with a grim smile on her face. "Well, hello, Michelle."

With a nasty smile of his own, Mike turned. "Nicole."

"I'd never have pictured you shopping at this store." The head of Apple Day Cosmetics said, her brown eyes shooting sparks. "Do they sell girdles here or something?"

"Taking time off from corporate espionage to get yourself some more edible underwear?" Mike countered.

"Ma'am." The sales associates said, unaware she was walking right into a minefield.

With a barely audible groan, Mike turned to the young girl. "Yes?"

She held up the glowing read item. "Here's your Pump You Up."

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