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SRU: The Roadhouse by Corvus corax (Raven) Comma and Asterix looked at each other and sighed. Both of the deliverymen were hot, sweaty and very, very tired. On days like today, when it was 100 degrees in the shade, with 90 % humidity, it didn't pay to be moving around large pieces of magical equipment. Asterix continued to gaze over from the passenger seat of the SRU van to Comma, who was behind the wheel. He slumped down a little further into his seat. "Man! I sure could use a beer!" Comma nodded in agreement without looking back. "I hear that! No one should be out working in this type of heat. We should be out lounging in a pool with babes all around . . . ." He swallowed his last thought. It definitely wasn't a great idea to mention ANYTHING about women around his boss. You never quite knew when something you say could be used against you. While the old man wasn't there with them, they were close enough. Just being in the SRU van, or around SRU things was treacherous in and of itself. " . . . . scratch that," Comma corrected. "A beer is just fine at this point." Asterix grinned. He knew EXACTLY what his partner was talking about. He picked up the clipboard from the dashboard, and scanned the delivery list. There were red check marks beside each of the entries. "According to my calculations, all of the deliveries are done. It's quittin' time. In other words, it's drinkin' time. Find the closest local watering hole." Comma glanced into the rearview mirror so that he could see into the rear compartment. He knew from experience that his partner was prone to . . . exaggeration? It was always a good idea to get visual conformation of Asterix's spoken word. True to form, a rather distinctive and large piece of equipment met his eyes. The driver frowned. "Better check again. There's a big ole' jukebox back there." "No way," insisted Asterix, looking over his list once again. Comma gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. "Check for yourself, Pal." Asterix did. It wasn't one of those jukeboxes that fit on a table, but one of those newfangled, full sized machines that play CD's. "Damn," blurted Asterix. He was justifiably frustrated that they had to make one more delivery. Nevertheless, the sooner they got it done, the sooner they could have that beer. Asterix reviewed the days scheduled deliveries yet one more time. When he was done, he communicated the bad news to Comma. "Uh oh!" Comma positively didn't like the sound of that utterance. "What now?" This time, Comma did look over to Asterix, who wore an expression of grave concern upon his face. "There are no entries on here for the delivery of a CD jukebox. We shouldn't even have this in here. Something's not right." "That's impossible. The old man specifically told us what stuff to load into the van this morning. I remember him telling us to load the jukebox." Asterix searched his memories. "Me too!" he agreed. "What are we gonna' do?" "I don't know, but the old man's going to be angry if we come back with it." Now Asterix really panicked. He was not thrilled with the potential repercussions of this snafu. He pled with Comma. "We have to think of something to do. I like women well enough, but I don't want to BE one. I don't wanna spend anytime as a bimbo!" "Me neither, Pal," agreed Comma again, whole heartedly. Asterix shifted his eyes from the clipboard in his hand to the road up ahead. Approximately 100 yards ahead, along the side of the road, he noticed a dilapidated old tavern. There was a gravel parking lot, that held only one vehicle . . . most likely the owner's. A sign read, "The Roadhouse." An idea quickly formed in the deliveryman's brainpan. "Pull in here," directed Asterix to Comma, as if he were the navigator. "I just had a brainstorm." "You're not thinkin' . . . ." Comma began to say. "Yup. We can kill two birds with one stone," beamed Asterix. Despite misgivings about this plan, Comma didn't see any other alternative. He angled the SRU van into the gravel parking lot in a cloud of dust, and spray of stones. ********** Approximately 50 miles in the opposite direction, Burt and Jack were returning from an impromptu fishing expedition. They lived and worked in a medium sized town named Bastion, and, in fact, were born and raised there. Burt and Jack were the best of friends from the first time they met in preschool. They remained that way through high school and thereafter. The Roadhouse lay on the outskirts of the Bastion city limits. On this particular day, Burt called Jack at approximately 3:30 am. He just split with his girlfriend of 2 years, Cindy Miller, in a fiery break up, and needed somebody to talk to. That's where Jack came in. Jack was much better with the women, and, as such, was a treasure trove of useful information. After mulling over the breakup, through every possible angle, Burt finally concluded, "You know what I need?" "What?" responded a very weary and frustrated Jack. He thought the topic FINALLY dead and buried, only to have it arise anew, like some phoenix from the ashes. "A real air headed bimbo, with really big boobs, who doesn't like to do anything but fuck and suck. Yeah. That's it. What I need is some real mental candy that I don't even have to think about." That was the funniest thing that Jack had heard all day! He chuckled, adding his observation, "If you find one, ask if she has a friend. I think every guy could use one of those." There was more. "Yeah. Except she would have to like the same things as I do, like fishin' and shootin' pool . . . you know. She'd have to talk like we can talk. That would be perfect." Jack just rolled his eyes, mumbling, "I think I need a drink." Burt flipped open they cooler that they had taken with them on the fishing trip. It was empty except for half melted ice, suspended in super cooled water. "Nothin' in here!" Burt confirmed. He scanned the road up ahead of him. "Too bad there ain't a bar anywhere around here. I could use a cold one myself . . . maybe somethin to eat." Jack hoped against hope that the subject of Burt's unfortunate romantic/sex/relationship life was now past them. If the price was a beer in an out of the way bar . . . well, it was a cost that he was willing to pay. The location of such a place flashed into his mind. "Hey Burt? I think I know a place," mentioned the passenger. "Really? Where?" "Just a ways up the road. I think it's called The Roadhouse. You know? The place we used to drink when we were underage . . . in high school." It all came back to Burt. "Oh yeah! I remember that place. I ain't been in there in years. I don't think anybody has. Are you sure it's still there?" "Yup. I passed it the other day, and the sign said, open.' The place is just not as popular anymore. What do you say . . . for old times sake?" "Sure," agreed Burt. "Do you remember the time that you, me, Sandra Ryan, and Melissa Silver went down there and . . . ." Jack tried as hard as he could to tune out the rest. The only thing he could do was roll his eyes again, and think, here we go again. ********** Andy Knight was genuinely a good guy. Exactly one year ago, to the day, he inherited the business establishment known as "The Roadhouse," from his uncle Harry. Granted, it was an out of the way place, Bastion, Texas, but still it was an ongoing, viable business. Instead of going to college, as his parents wanted, Andy packed up all of his belongings and moved to Bastion to be a nightclub owner. He didn't really want to go to take business courses anyway. That was his parent' s dream . . . not his. In Andy's opinion, there was no thing like the real thing. What need had he of books and theories and formulas on how a business should be run? There was no teacher like experience, so he just decided to leap into the deep end of the pool, feet first. Andy was so thrilled with the prospect of being a famous "hot spot" owner that he didn't even hear his father warn, "Harry never was able to make a go of that place!" What ambitious youngster would listen to the sage advice of an experienced adult? Quite right! All Andy could do on the long drive to Bastion was imagine how we would turn the place into the next "Studio 54" or "Danceteria." He had such dreams. To say that the reality of The Roadhouse didn't measure up to his vision would be a massive understatement. And now, there in the late afternoon sun, Andy dusted off the bottles behind the long bar. That was all he seemed to do nowadays, and couldn't recall the last time that he'd had an actual customer. The seal of some of the liquor bottles behind the bar hadn't been broken. Andy poured his entire life savings into the place, and now he was stuck. If it weren't for the bungalow out in the back, where he could stay rent free, he would have limped back home, with his tail between his legs, long ago. He was trapped, and he knew it. Why, oh why, hadn't he listened to his father? He should be in school, maybe even a member of a fraternity, having the time of his life. Andy looked up at the slowly revolving ceiling fan, trying to see all of the way to the heavens beyond. "What I need is a miracle to turn this place around!" he whispered to whatever God would listen. ********** To say that Andy was shocked when he saw two guys walking through the front door would have also been a massive understatement. Nevertheless, he squinted against the brilliant sun pouring through the door behind them, to make out there faces. They were both young, very strong, and incredibly handsome guys. Not that Andy was into that kind of thing, but it was just that they weren't the type of men who hung around these parts. Except for their matching coveralls, indicating some style of manual labor, he would have sworn that they'd stepped from the pages of GQ, Playgirl, or some muscle building magazine. "You open?" said the blonde one. The other, taller one, was much darker or Mediterranean looking. Andy could never have guessed that their ultra masculine physiques were just one of the many side benefit for working for the old man as an SRU deliveryman. Those side benefits were quite useful for enforcing discipline within the ranks. Disobedience could have . . . disastrous consequences! Andy guessed correctly, "You fella aren't from around here are you?" Comma, the darker one, spoke this time, as both padded up to the bar. "You're pretty observant there, Bar keep . . . ." Before Comma could continue, Andy advised, in a friendly tone of voice, "Call me Andy." Comma continued, "Okay . . . Andy. My name is Comma, and this here's my partner, Asterix." Strange names, thought Andy, but he didn't want to interrupt his only customer. "Howdy," smiled Asterix, ass he attempted to get into a Texas state of mind. They all exchanged greetings. Comma went on with his story. "We're just deliverymen passin' through. We saw your place, and thought we'd stop for a cold one or two. It's a hot one out there today!" Comma mopped his brow just to illustrate the point. Andy opened up the beer cooler so that he could comply with his customer's request. "Two cold brew coming up. Lone Star okay?" Asterix nodded, "That's fine Andy. That'd do me just right about now." Andy popped the tops off of the two longnecks, setting them down on the bar in front of the two deliverymen. The condensation from the warm air meeting the chilled bottle rolled down the side of the glass. The entire scene looked exactly like a beer commercial, even down to the slight bit of foam pouring over the lip of the beer bottles. "Do you gentlemen need glasses for your beer?" inquired Andy genially. Both Comma and Asterix looked at each other, and then back at Andy with a confused expression upon their faces. It was Comma who spoke this time for the both of them. "Glasses? Ruin a perfectly good beer with glasses? Hah. We'll drink it as it was meant to be, straight out of the bottle." Andy slapped each of them on the shoulder, from across the bar. "Y'all are guys after my own heart." Comma and Asterix turned around by 180 degrees, so that their backs were up against the bar. They leaned up against it to take a load off of their muscles. In unison, the took a deep draught from their respective beer bottles. While Comma fretted internally about what the old man would do if he found out, Asterix scanned the rest of The Roadhouse's interior. Thankfully, the very item that he was looking for, an item that is usually found in every bar, was missing. Aside from the tables and chairs, there was a small barren stage, and an unoccupied corner where a jukebox should be. Asterix turned his head toward his taller partner to wink. Then he craned his head further to the right to look over his shoulder. He wanted to bring up the subject with Andy, almost as an aside. "Hey Andy? Where's the entertainment? Ain't ya got any tunes to liven the place up?" prodded Asterix. Andy responded sheepishly, "Uh. Sorry guys. I was a little short on cash, and had to sell my jukebox a while back. Business has been kinda slow, and, well, every man's got to eat." Asterix turned his body around to face Andy once again. He virtually beamed at the owner/bartender. "Really? Maybe we can be of some help to you!" That comment confused Andy. "How? I don't understand." Now Asterix slapped Andy on the shoulder. "By a stroke of luck, we have jukebox, one of those new CD jukeboxes, in our truck. Seems that it was loaded by accident, and we don't know where it goes to. Maybe we can let you have it." Andy adopted a countenance of sadness. The place sorely needed a jukebox, but he didn't have the resources to get one. With a new jukebox there was the possibility of more business. If only he could afford it. He told the deliverymen of his financial condition, "That's might kind of you guys. I wish that I could, but I just don't have any way to pay for it. I can't even lease one at this point." "You're in luck, my friend. If we go back with this thing in our truck, out boss is gonna be real pissed off at us. Believe me when I say that you don't want to get him angry. So you see, we have to ditch it one way or another. You seem to be a stand up kind of a guy, so what do you say we just give it to you for, say, a few beers and a burger. Each." "Really? You fellas aren't foolin' with me are you?" Now Comma got into the mix. All of his worries about what the old man would do to them seemed to just drift away. Comma turned, stuck his hand out to shake, and stated as sincerely as possible, "We wouldn't josh you Andy. That's not our style. Whadda you say . . . is it a deal?" Andy grabbed the extended hand quite eagerly. He pumped it excitedly, "It's a deal! Man . . . this must be my lucky day." Comma and Asterix glanced at each other, then rolled their eyes. They nodded, declaring in unison, "Let's get this thing unloaded." ********** It took them 30 minutes, 3 beers each, 2 hamburgers, and an order of fries to get the contraption unloaded and set up in the corner. Finally, Asterix plugged it in to the nearby outlet, only to have the jukebox light up like a carnival ride. The bright neon lights, as well as the refracted prisms of the rotating CD's, were quite a sight to see. That was especially true for Andy. He was like unto a child on Christmas day. "Play something, Asterix," cried Andy from the bar. Not in this lifetime, mused Asterix. He knew exactly how these SRU devices worked! If he put money into one of these things, or voluntarily trigger it in any way, he was doomed. Instead, he flipped the button in back for "Automatic Play." That way the machine itself chose the music or song. Whatever magic that was contained therein would not be activated, but would lie dormant. Well, at least a part of the magic anyway. No sooner did the music fill the air, than both of the deliverymen deduce the nature of the enchantment. The intoxicating sound was everywhere, permeating everything! The music itself was hypnotic, drawing people to it, and encouraging them to play the song therein. Andy started to absently walk toward the magic jukebox in a near trance-like state. He was stopped only by the timely intervention of Comma. Comma looked him directly in the eye so that he could extract a singular promise from the man. "Andy. Promise me that you will never play the machine with money. That is only for your customers. You must promise that you will only put it on automatic play." "O-okay. I promise, Comma," assured the dazed owner. The promise was not too much to ask in exchange for the jukebox. It did sound wonderful. Sweet music was everywhere. Andy returned to the bar, declaring confidently as he went, "I have the feeling that business is about to pick up!" Comma nudged Asterix. "That's is EXACTLY what I'm afraid of." ********** The three in the bar wouldn't have long to wait before they learned exactly how perceptive Andy's comment actually was. About a mile down the road, Burt and Jack were approaching in Burt's pick- up truck. Music began to filter into their brain. It wasn't just music, but was entrancing, encouraging. Like the siren's song of old mythology, it called to them to come hither. Such was the nature of the enchanted jukebox. When on automatic play mode, it could be hear by whatever person was within a few miles. It didn't matter how close the person was, or how far, for each would hear it just the same. For those in the bar, it would appear to come from the jukebox. For those with radios or stereos, that were turned on, it would appear as if the music came from that source. Others would hear it as music playing close by, while still others would perceive it as a song that they just couldn't get out of their head. No matter the particular method of perception, the effect would ever be the same. To those who heard, it would call them to find the source. Once found, they would not be able to resist playing the machine, and thus triggering the second part of the spell. "Where's that music coming from, Burt?" asked Jack from the passenger seat. "I don't know. I hear it too. Maybe it's coming from the radio." Jack leaned forward, and checked the truck's radio. "Nope. The radio's off." "That's strange. It sounds so close . . . so clear." "I know it." Just then, their truck closed in on The Roadhouse. Burt turned the truck into the parking lot, as it was their destination. As soon as Burt shut down the engine, they both ascertained the locus of the music. It was emanating from The Roadhouse. That wasn't the only thing that surprised them because there was another vehicle, a van, with the letters "SRU" painted on the side. "This is where it's coming from," stated Burt with an amazing grasp of the obvious. Jack nodded. "I wonder what's going on inside? This place has been dead for years." They both walked to the front door of the establishment. Burt pushed open the front door, saying, "I don't know, Buddy. Let's find out. ********** Asterix, Comma, and Andy's heads all turned to see the two new customers. They were both dressed in flannel shirts and jeans. The taller, huskier one, Jack, had hiking boots on, with a baseball cap that was turned backwards. The short one, Burt, opted for tennis shoes and no hat. Burt was much slimmer than Jack. Burt had the much fairer complexion. Andy mentioned to his two new friends, "That was quick. Two more customers . . . on the same day. Business IS picking up." Jack and Burt padded up to the far side of the bar, away from the SRU deliverymen. While Andy moved down to greet them, and also fill their drink orders, Asterix and Comma glanced at one another. They heard Andy say, "Hello guys. What'll it be?" Comma had a very concerned expression upon his face. It was a fact that he communicated to Asterix. "Let's get out of here before things get too weird." Comma started to move away from the bar, only to be pulled back by Asterix's strong grip around his arm. "Hold on. Not so fast. I want to see how this thing really works, and it's only a mater of time before one of these newbies play it." Asterix motioned his thumb toward Jack and Burt as he spoke. Comma worried, "This is NOT going to end well . . . I just know it." Farther down the bar, Burt addressed Andy's question. "Give us two brewskis, and do you have a menu?" Andy retrieved a menu, and handed it to the man. He could believe his good fortune. Things were definitely beginning to look up. "Two beers coming right up. What kind of beer do y'all want?" Now it was Jack's turn to contribute to the conversation. He had to. Burt was forever ordering lite beer, or those newfangled beers with a fruity taste. That just wasn't for him. He needed a good old domestic, full-bodied beer . . . a man's beer. "Make it two Budweisers." The order set Andy to work behind the bar. It was sent Burt's complaint mechanism into overdrive. "Budweiser? I hate Budweiser," Burt whined. "In the category of famous last words, Jack remarked, "You know, with the type of beer you like, you might as well be a chick yourself." Burt balked at the affront to his soon-to-be anguished manhood. However, before he could get a single word out, Jack spoke again. "I'm gonna hit the head. I gotta piss so bad it hurts. Order me a burger or something while I'm gone." Jack addressed Andy, who by now was setting the cold bottles of Bud on the bar. "Where's the men's room, Captain?" Andy pointed to a grouping of doors on the far side of the wall. "I'll be right back, Burt. Try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone. Okay?" Burt took a swig from the beer bottle, before replying, "Trouble? Me? What could possibly go wrong here?" With that, Jack made a bee line straight for the men's room. When he was halfway across the expanse of the room, the song on the jukebox changed. This time it was a song by the Rolling Stones." Burt quickly made the food order to Andy, who then disappeared into the kitchen. Without anybody to distract him, Burt fell completely under the spell of the enchanted jukebox. In fact, he couldn't even remember when he ever heard such true and pure music. It was as if the machine was singing directly into his soul . . . which, of course, it was. Burt's foot, then his entire leg, began to move in time with the beat of the song. He felt like . . . dancing? That was impossible because he NEVER felt like dancing, even when he was out with Cindy. By and by, Burt became aware of what his lower extremities were doing. It prompted him to look to his side to determine if anyone was watching him. He blushed just a little when he saw the two deliverymen down the bar staring at him intently. What the Hell are they lookin' at, wondered Burt? Haven't they ever seen anyone keepin' time to a song? Still, he just couldn't force himself to stop. Therefore, he decided to wander over to the jukebox to see what kind of song selection it had. Burt grabbed a dollar from the Money on the bar just in case he found something that he liked. Little did Burt realize there is ALWAYS a selection that you will like on an enchanted jukebox. Burt was compelled by the lure of the device to go and play one or more of the selections. Burt couldn't have heard Asterix say to Comma, as they were out of ear shot, "Here we go!" The jukebox's printed instructions told Burt that he got three selections for $1, but only 1 selection for $.50. One selection for $.50 seemed like such a rip-off to him, in essence explaining why he brought the crisp dollar bill with him. Burt had some experience with these things in other bars, although, now that he thought about it, he usually avoided those other jukeboxes like the plague. Hadn't he always thought of all jukeboxes as a rip-off or something? Burt seemed to recall once believing something like that, however, the idea flittered away as fast as it came. Again, there was something about this jukebox that made him want to surrender $1 for three selections. Absently, as if under some type of remote control, Burt slipped the dollar into the bill acceptor. The numerical LED communicated that he had three plays coming to him. Therefore, Burt started to flip throughly the various CD selections. They just went on and on, and seemed like it had just about . . . everything. Almost every song the mind could imagine from old to new was there. The instant that Burt wondered if it had this band, or that song, the CD would instantly appear on the very next page of choices. Burt idly wondered whether the jukebox had anything from ZZ Top, which was his favorite group? Sure enough, the very next page showed the front of the CD entitled, "The Best of ZZ TOP." All of their hits were represented, all of Burt's favorites. Burt's fingers flew across the numerical buttons, making the three selections in scant seconds. All of the while, Burt's feet continued their incessant tapping to the beat of the music. He started to walk back to the bar to finish the remainder of hiss beer, but after only a few steps, the song on the jukebox changed again. Burt froze in his tracks, completely in thrall. It was as if he were held in place by some giant, unseen hand. The first notes of the new song began to play, which Burt immediately recognized as the first of his selections. Over at the bar, Comma noted, "Hey! I know this song. It's . . . uh . . . the name's on the tip of my tongue." "Legs," informed Asterix. "Damn. He ain't gonna like this!" whistled Comma. "I doubt that by the end of the song he . . . she won't much care!" The two eased back upon the bar to watch the fantastic transformation, which their past experience told them was about to unfold. Sure enough, Burt began to dance all around the area in front of the jukebox. He danced to the perfect beat of the song that he selected. Burt tried as best as he could to stop himself, but it was no use. His hands, arms, legs, feet, hips, and every muscle of his body moved of its own volition. At first those movements were rough and jerky like every guys' dancing ability. As the song grew closer to the vocals, Burt's movements became more graceful, more flowing, and, in fact, more feminine. In mere seconds, he was dancing all around just as a girl would. Burt's hips and ass, although still definitely male in form, swayed and wiggled with an overstated feminine motion. The way that Burt moved was much more than just feminine. It was lithe, seductive, suggestive, and oh so sexual . . . down to insistent pelvic thrusts. But for a decidedly male body, a casual observer would have sworn that he was a Middle Eastern belly dancer or even a . . . stripper? The shape of Burt's body was an anomaly that was soon to be remedied! All Comma and Asterix could do was stare, wide eyed and slack jawed. "W-what's happening to me?" cried Burt, in a panic, but it was lost in the vocals of the song, which were just starting. That still didn't stop Burt from screaming desperately for help. "PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" Less than 30 seconds had elapsed since the song began. However, as it always is with such surreal occasions, time itself seemed to slow down to accommodate the fantastic transformations to the victim. In reality, time twisted in and around itself, like a dog chasing its tail, speeding up here and then crawling there. Indeed, in the men's room, Jack was camped out on the porcelain throne, tapping his own feet in time to the song, "Legs." The passage of time appeared to be moving forward normally. If he could only see what the song was doing to his best friend, the same interval would have seemed like an eternity. At least it did to Burt, trapped as he was with in the grip of the magical spell. His plaintive yells for help fell upon deaf ears under the din of the music. The first refrain from Dusty Hill's distinct voice joined in on the up tempo song. The heavy guitars kept the song humming along at a good pace. "She's got legs . . . ." were the first three words of the song. Almost instantaneously, Burt's body began to reform itself so that its shape reflected his movement. The cracking of bones, and the sound of muscles shifting, assuming gentler and curvier lines was imperceptible under the music from the jukebox. It also succeeded in silencing, for the moment, a mortified Burt. Nevertheless, Burt felt it. His body continued to move in ultra feminine patterns, but now a sense of heat engulfed his body. It was accompanied by a tingling or tickling in every cell of his body. Burt could actually feel the components of his body becoming undone, only to knit themselves back together again. Thankfully, there was no pain. Still, Burt tried in vain to call for help, but his mouth or vocal cords, currently under reconstruction, no longer worked. Where once stood an average man of 6'0", there was now a woman of approximately 5'6". He felt the limbs of his body grow smaller, as did his waist. The items in the room appeared to grow from Burt's perspective, as he shrank by about 6". That, however, was not as strange as the sensation of his hips and rearend flaring, widening, and rounding. The strangest of all was the sense of growth upon his chest. Burt's pectoral muscles softened under the words of the song, specifically the word "She," and swelled out to form smallish, pert breasts. Now Burt was aware of what had happened to him. "Please. Somebody help me," Burt exclaimed once more. It was weak and pitiful. In the space of but few words, his voice elevated several octaves until it was a sweet, soft contralto. He, now she, felt the delicious tension of excited, engorged nipples at the ends of her new breasts. The overwhelming, alien, yet erotic sensations were themselves abruptly overshadowed by Burt's shriveled manhood being sucked up into her groin. It was replaced by a provocative flatness, punctuated by a moist and warm vaginal slit. All in all, Burt now resembled the person she would have been, had she been born a woman. Her hair was a little longer than it was before, her face was a little softer. All traces of facial hair was gone, and the lines were definitely those of a girl. She was an attractive, maybe even a pretty girl, who clearly would have drawn her share of men. Burt felt pinches, almost pin pricks, in each of her earlobes. When she reached up to her lobes, she discovered stud earrings therein. Even her hands were smaller, with delicate fingers, soft skin. And long manicured fingernails. The fingernails were done in an exquisite French manicure. "I-I-I'm a girl!" whispered in shock Burt under the volume of the music. Burt's clothes also changed to match her new form. Her jeans fused, and crawled up to mid thigh in the shape of a denim skirt. The flannel shirt remained practically the same, although it shrank to conform to the dimensions of a female body. The flannel shirt was now tied at the waist, as some girls do, to showcase a flat, smooth stomach. Burt's white tank T-shirt shrank into a white lacy bra that held Burt's nascent breasts in place. Even with the bra, Burt could feel her boobs bouncing provocatively up and down with each dance step. Yes. The first three words of the song had transmogrified Burt completely into a woman that she might have been, except for one particular feature. Her legs. They were soft, slender and smooth with just the perfect amount of baby fat. In short, they were devastating! Even Comma and Asterix, watching from afar, had to admit they were the most perfect set of woman's legs they had ever seen. They were absolutely speechless. Although they had always heard of their boss's spells changing men into women, they had never witnessed such a transformation for themselves. The reality of it was much more incredible than the verbal recounting. It was so stunning that Comma and Asterix were virtually paralyzed when they saw Burt reaching toward them for help. He wanted the two men to pull him from the magical vortex. There was more to come . . . the song had only just begun! The length and breadth of the entire metamorphosis transpired in a real time blink of an eye. Neither the song playing on the jukebox, nor the altered Burt missed a beat the entire time. There was no time for her to catch her breath because the next line came just as quickly. The vocalist for ZZ Top sang out the next set of lyrics. " . . . . she knows how to use them!" The interstice between those words afforded the girlish Burt a chance to call out to the deliverymen in her new voice, "Please, oh please. Somebody stop the song." Even she now realized what caused her radical change in gender. Both Comma and Asterix stood transfixed over the unique erotic spectacle. Indeed, as the swelling of their respective groins would attest, it was an extreme turn on. They watched the arcane energies of the music box work its magic once more. The denim skirt that adorned Burt's curvy hips began to shift once again. The fabric began to creep up her legs farther and farther until all that remained was an extremely tight, and extremely short pair of Daisy Duke cut-off shorts. They were so tight that the slender strip of denim between the front and back of the shorts threatened to floss her vaginal `lips or the cleft of her tush. They were exactly the type of garment that a woman would want to wear to show off shapely legs. Still, it wasn't enough. The shoes which Burt had been wearing started to reshape themselves under the enchantment. In the last alteration, the basketball shoes and socks that Burt was originally wearing became a very unathletic pair of pink lady's Keds. The socks became little lacy anklets. This time, the socks dissipated altogether! The Keds turned much darker, as the heel started to rise. In a heartbeat, where once there were tiny sneakers, there were black leather pumps with at least a 6" heel. Again, it was the perfect thing for a woman to wear if she WANTED to show off her legs. The final change for this round of lyrics was more behavioral. Burt was able to nimbly dance and prance around in those heels as if she had worn them all of her life. Her dancing movements began to emphasize her mouth watering legs, as she ran her delicate hands all over their satiny skin . . . between her inner thighs. One hand lingered on the front panel of the Daisy Duke's. By now, Burt realized that no help was forthcoming. Instead of fighting her body's movements or screaming in vain for help . . . she cried. Big crocodile tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. A second latter a grin broke through the gloom on her face. What couldn't be seen was the mental changes occurring within Burt's poor mind. She found that she was beginning to like dancing around like this. She like her body, particularly her great gams! Most of all, she like to touch them and have people . . . no . . . men look at them. She was actually teasing Asterix and Comma, the two onlookers, with her legs. "W-wow!" declared a stunned Asterix. "Y-yeah," agreed Comma. The last bit of attitude adjustment to Burt's waning psyche only set the stage for the next line. Before that line was uttered, Jack, who was finished with his hygienic business, burst out of the mens' room into the new reality. He looked at the dancing girl in the short shorts, only to have his own mind rearranged to accommodate the altered circumstances. Jack glared at her not with an expression of confusion or surprise, but one of familiarity. He grumbled to his girlfriend, "What are you doing, Bunny? Why do you have to embarrass me like this every time that we go out somewhere?" The girl stuck her tongue out at him, in an act of defiance, then continued with her sexual gyrations. Asterix glanced over at Comma, "Bunny?" "That's what the man said!" Dusty Hill sang the next line, "She never begs . . . ." This change was also more mental than it was physical, although an instant later it was manifested in a physical way. The three small words robbed the new Bunny of the intelligence to reason . . . the intelligence that would be required to form coherent thoughts to beg. Points of her intelligence quotient leaked away like a dam that had sprung a leak. The light of any trace of rational thought faded from her eyes. Bunny's face wore a vapid expression, as millions upon millions of neurons inside of her head shut down or closed off. It left only a child-like air head in its wake. Bunny knew something was slipping away from her . . . something essential and precious. Unfortunately, by the time she even approached figuring it out, it was gone. All that was left was a most pleasant fuzziness of not a care in the world. She started to giggle. Everything suddenly seemed to be funny to her. She had no idea what it was, only that she felt incredibly giddy and happy. Bunny was having a lot of fun just dancing around. "Damn it," swore Jack. "I told you to stop that, Bunny!" That only made the stupid new girl giggle more, and spin and twirl to the hypnotic music. Andy entered the bar from the back kitchen. The instant that he stepped into the bar area, he beheld the gyrating girl with the sleek, stunning legs. His mind was suddenly altered by the magic in the air to accommodate the new reality. Andy continued to shake his head in only mild disbelief, as he carried the food orders back to the space originally occupied by Burt and Jack. Instead of two burgers and two orders of fries, he carried one burger and fried for Jack, and a salad (dressing on the side) for Bunny. Some comment about having to watch her weight seemed to linger in Andy's memories. Asterix and Comma both overheard Andy mumbling as he passed them by, "That girl's in here dancing like some stripper again!" They looked at each other blankly. The ability of the jukebox to alter the very fabric of reality was nothing short of remarkable. Asterix started to regret making the suggestion to dump the device on some unwitting people. The only good thing was that the reality warping power would, more than likely than not, cover their tracks . . . their error in judgment. It was time for the next line of the song in this strange transformational opera. " . . . . she knows how to choose them," sang the venerable rock group. This part of the metamorphosis was again overwhelmingly mental. The void that the prior set of lyrics created within Bunny's mins was now filled by something a little more basic. It wasn't intelligence by any stretch of the imagination, but was more accurately described as . . . instincts. Bunny's intelligence was replaced by the ability to sense which man was more virile by the smell of his phermones or the smell of his natural musk. What she lost in the simple ability to read, write add or subtract was filled by the instinctive knowledge of which guys had the most money. She just knew which guys would be the best provider by the way that they acted, or by what they possessed. The last lyric subtly changed the dancing Bunny into the quintessential, man hungry, gold digger. It was a fact reflected in the knowing smile upon her face, as she riveted her attention at Jack. Something inside of Bunny told her that he was a terrific lover and a good provider. He would buy her the things that she wanted. Did the transformation stop there? Oh no! The song was only halfway through the first stanza. The progression of the enchanted song only succeeded in laying down the foundation of man into woman for the more outrageous changes to follow! Where the last parts of the transformation was physical, and then mental, the next line heralded a change of the behavioral nature. The words rang out, whilst Andy, Comma, Asterix, and specifically a rapt Jack stared on. Jack, by far, was the closest to the girl, and was attempting in vain to get her to stop. Jacks's face was red, as if Bunny's dancing was a personal embarrassment to him! Indeed, every few seconds he looked over to the other three with a guilty grin, as if to say, "I'm so sorry." "She only lets, one of them to feel them," blared from the jukebox's magically enhanced sound system. With those easy words, Bunny's entire attitude changed. She did not want to be touching her own beautiful legs, but instead she wanted Jack to touch them. Want was not an accurate word. The overpowering craving, burning, or yearning to be touched by Jack's hands was more reflective of a need. Bunny felt no disgust or hesitation in this desire . . . she . . . had to have it, more than anything else. However, although she currently wanted only Jack to touch her shapely legs, Bunny wanted the other men who were watching to see. The very idea of having a man touch her in a sexually suggestive manner, in full view of other man, was . . . dangerous . . . intoxicating. It thrilled her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Bunny now enjoyed having men watch her, and more than that, desire her. To that end, her movements became even more, if it was possible, sultry and exotic. They were moved specifically designed to make men stare at her. She swayed and wiggled her way over to where Jack was standing. Gently, she took his hand into hers, and moved it to the hairless flesh of her bare legs. With her hand still upon his, she began to move it up and down on her leg to encourage him to caress what was, for her, her best assent. It didn't take much urging for Jack to comply with Bunny's wishes. His hands took on a life of their own, as his other free hand joined the other one on her opposite leg. Jack softly traced his fingers up and the length of those heart stopping legs. Bunny danced close enough and slow enough for Jack to continue to caress her thighs. She found herself to be very excited by the touch of rough hewn flesh upon her own soft skin. Bunny's nipples grew under the ministrations of Jack's big hands, and an urgent need for her new sex to be filled by his warmed her loins. She touched his hands yet again, moving one of them all of the way to the junction of leg and hip. Jack's fingers now rested right beside the rise of Bunny's genital mound. The other hand moved to the softest part of her inner thigh. "I-I think I need another beer, Andy," gulped Asterix. "M-m-me too," stuttered Comma. Now, those two guys were no strangers to magical happenings, but even they were astonished, astounded, and quite literally stimulated by the passion play unfolding before their eyes. In a word, Bunny made them horny. The stirrings of an idea began to germinate inside of Andy's white matter. Hmm. A girl is dancing . . . suggestively. There are more guys here right now than have been here in a week. They are drinking beer. This was good for business, and there just HAD to be some way to take advantage of it. Andy slid the beer up the counter, only to have Comma and Asterix slide a few bills back at Andy in payment. They were so entranced by the dancing girl that they forgot the previous business arrangement. Andy wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he snatched the money from the counter. He smiled. Yes, there just had to be some way to use this! Asterix and Comma grabbed their beer bottles, and walked in a trance-like state to the tables surrounding the stage. They felt compelled to get a closer look at the man and woman interacting beside that stage, just in front of the jukebox. The whole thing was downright . . . amazing. "Would you get behind her, you would only find her," was the next line of the song. It sounded like a nonsensical line with no apparent meaning. Nevertheless, the spell of the jukebox found a way to use the words to metamorphosize the former Burt still further. As per the instructions of the song, Bunny turned so that her rearend was now facing Jack. His face no longer wore a masque of frustration, embarrassment or anger with Bunny. It was replaced by a look of dreamy sexual excitement. When Bunny pushed her tush into Jack's lap, she found his manhood to be hard and very, very erect. He was good to go! However, that STILL wasn't enough.. Bunny began to grind the cheeks of her bum into Jack's bulging cock. While she did this, Bunny felt the now familiar tingling and tickling all along the flesh of her backside. Her derriere shifted and reformed itself into a firm yet soft exclamation point to her legs. Her rearend reshaped itself until it was the heart shaped perfection of any man's wet dream. Her Daisy Duke's drew even tighter to accentuate her world-class ass. The cleft of Bunny's ass found Jack's bulge . . . an ideal fit. If anyone could see that butt, they would immediately concur that it could stop traffic! Asterix and Comma were caught up in the events despite their ability to separate truth and reality. Their knowledge of the nature of the magical jukebox immunized them from its power. They knew very well that the still developing girl before their eyes used to be a man named Burt. Their interest was a far baser nature now. They hooted, hollered, and whistled in an effort to encourage her to go farther. Their enthusiastic gestures were quickly rewarded by a vacant, winsome smile from Bunny. While she continued to grind her derriere into Burt's crotch, she pulled on of his hands up to the front panel of her shorts. Bunny pressed his fingers into the exact spot that she wanted him to rub. Jack's other hand found the thigh of her leg on its own accord. Bunny moaned to signify that he was doing it correctly, simultaneously winking at the deliverymen. She also licked her lips in a most inviting manner. "She's my Baby. She's my Baby. Yeah, it's all right," came the next snippet of the song, "Legs." With the first three words, Bunny recognized the same sensation that she had felt when this all began. In other words, every cell of her body tingled and tickled. She could feel the integral components of her body come undone, to reform microseconds later. Something made her move away from Jack now . . . just in time. Bunny saw the items in the room grow taller or bigger when she slowly shrank another 6". She now stood at the tiny, petite height of 5'0". The rest of her body diminished proportionately. No on in the room seemed to notice that anything was other than what it should be . . . or ever was. All except Comma and Asterix that is. The repeated next three words bled away the days, weeks, months and years of the original Burt's 28 years of age until Bunny reached 1 day over her 18th birthday. Moreover, the magic continued to work its power to make her look years younger than the 18 years of age. To all of the world, Bunny now looked like a small, oversexed school girl. Only Asterix and Comma would be able to tell her from her original identity. There was still a little amount of Burt in Bunny's face. Call it . . . Burt's little sister. The last three words of the line worked another mental change within Bunny. The instant they were uttered, she accepted her new reality. More than that, she absolutely loved to be so small and soft . . . to be overpowered by even the smallest of men. Bunny liked being as small as . . . well . . . a bunny! There was a brief musical interlude between the first verse of the song and the second. This afforded Bunny the chance to jump on the stage to dance around. Somehow, in a manner which her poor diminished brain could not understand, it felt right. It felt natural and somehow . . . appropriate? She skipped around the stage, dancing her, twirling there. Bunny flitted from the table where Asterix and Comma sat to the table where Jack now sat. He immediately sought a seat when Bunny pulled away from him. Interestingly, although Jack would never know it, the very second that Bunny pulled away from him, reality shifted yet one more time to accept the developing circumstances. For instance, the beer that was originally the beer at the bar for Burt disappeared into thin air. The only thing that remained was the beer and burger that was ordered by Jack . . . almost as if he came there himself. In fact, that was exactly what Jack thought. He had no memory of stopping into the bar with anyone but himself. He only recalled the need to go off fishing by himself just to think. He was pleasantly surprised to see an attractive girl dancing about when he entered The Roadhouse. He didn't even know her name. However, Andy suddenly did know her name. The seed of the idea that was in the back of his mind now blossomed into stark reality with one simple statement. "Hey Bunny! Lose the shirt. These guys came in to see your tits and ass, not your wardrobe," yelled Andy over the music to his new employee. The very young girl stuck her tongue out playfully at her employer, just as you would anticipate a child to do. Again, employer is less than an accurate description. Bunny paid him a percentage of whatever tips that she could tease out of the customers. She ripped open the front of her flannel shirt without a moment's hesitation. The open shirt revealed her small frame and pert little titties, still restrained within the confines of a lacy bra. Bunny untied the ends of the shirt tails at her waist to show off her flat, trim tummy. The opened shirt dangled at her sides, as she danced about, offering tantalizing glimpses of the creamy treasures that lay beneath. The shirt tails didn't stay dangling for very long. In one deft move, Bunny spun around on one high heel, and peeled off the flannel. It was like she had been stripping for one time . . . the shirt flew into the small audience to land on Jack's head. Bunny's latest flamboyant act elicited the hoots and hollers of Asterix and Comma. They were throughly enjoying themselves now. Asterix even cried, "Take it off. Take it ALL off!" Bunny giggled. She just loved that guys like to look at her. ********** Out on highway 6, people were in the midst of their commute home from work. Each car that came into range invariably picked up the siren song of the magical jukebox. Those with radios heard the song, "Legs," coming through the stereo speakers. Those that didn't, heard it coming from . . . somewhere. No matter how the commuters, mostly men, perceived the music, the end result was the same. Cars for no reason started to turn into the parking lot of The Roadhouse. It was exactly like the end of the movie, "The Field of Dreams." In this case, it was, "If you play it, they will come." The people absently exited their vehicles to go inside the bar. Something deep within them compelled them to find the source of the captivating music. Even from the parking lot, the new potential customers could hear ZZ Top singing the next part of the song. "She's got hair, down to her fanny . . . ." Those lyrics triggered a further transformation in the former man that was consistent with the words. Bunny's relatively short, for a girl, light brown hair, first began to lighten. In the space of nanoseconds, her shortish tresses changed color to dark blonde. From dark blonde it lightened still further into a rich golden blonde, and from there into a light, almost platinum blonde. That's when the itching began. Suddenly, Bunny felt like a thousand ants were crawling across here scalp. She reached up to scratch the itch, only to have the blonde strands lengthen rapidly to meet her dainty, delicate hands. Her hair continued to grow like wildfire, in a scene that was like some eerie time lapse photography. The hair didn't stop growing until the very tips tickled the bottoms of her fanny cheeks. Bunny's long hair tumbled over her back and shoulders in thick waves of loose curls. The fabulous hair, which looked like it just sprang from a shampoo commercial onto Bunny's head, was dense, lustrous, and silken. It was the kind of hair that men would love to run their hands through, or better yet, would love to see spread out on a pillow as they lowered themselves between this girl's glorious legs. Bunny's hands, instead of scratching the fading itch, reached up and fluffed her hair, so that it was just perfect. She played with her hair teasingly while she continued to strut around on the stage. She tossed her head coquettishly, and flipped the tresses back over her shoulder in time to meet the set of lyrics that would cause the most outrageous change. " . . . . she's got a chest set . . . ." The small pert boobies on Bunny's chest swelled rapidly . . . pushing themselves farther away from the tiny frame of her chest wall. Bigger and bigger they grew, until they reached the impressive size of 34D. Considering Bunny's petite body, they were much larger than the average woman. However, they were all natural, and very, very firm. The cups of the lacy white bra also grew to meet the demands of increased support. Even so, the sheer material could not hide the thick, engorged nipples that expanded with the rest of the bosom. They stuck out like new pencil erasers. The increased weight and mass translated into an exaggerated jiggling motion on Bunny's chest. If it caused her any distress, it didn't show, for her hands fell from her hair to her boobs. She squeezed them together, and fondled them suggestively. Bunny's greatly diminished brain capacity could not comprehend what was happening to her. The only thing that she knew was the incredible feeling coming from her chest. She really enjoyed having big tits, especially how the jiggled and bounced every time that she moved. Bunny altered her routine subtly so that her movements made them bounce even more. She closed her eyes, and moaned. They felt soooooo good. Bunny giggled in her head. I just wish I could afford a boob job to make em even bigger! Then EVERY guy will wanna touch em. The new bubble brained girl wouldn't have long to wait. The next line of the song took care of that desire for her . . . and more. ". . . . can't even see her panties," were the words from Dusty Hill. Once again, Bunny's breasts grew . . . this time by leaps and bounds! They looked like balloons being filled up with gas or water. The perverse expansion continued until her tits measured a whopping 45EEE. Although they were still partially hidden by a bra stretched to its breaking point, the mammary flesh developed twin scars one would expect to see from breast augmentation. The sheer size and firmness of the two melons would attest to the fact they were products of technology rather than nature. The poor bra could not grow fast enough to meet the demands of the girl's huge hooters, so it broke with an explosive, "POP!" A round of throaty cheers erupted from the suddenly massive audience. Men surrounded the stage. In the blink of an eye, The Roadhouse had become a boiling cauldron of boisterous testosterone. Guys were lined up at the bar ordering drinks from Andy, who was dashing about madly in an effort to keep up. Andy mumbled to himself, "I'm going to need more help." Comma, Asterix and Jack were lost amidst the growing sea of people. Every table, every chair was occupied. Asterix smirked, "This place got popular real fast!" Comma jerked a thumb toward the stage. "I think it's the entertainment. I just hope that I never fall under one of the boss's spells." The other rolled his eyes. "You ain't lying. She could be a little prettier though. You know . . . in the face." Comma pointed out, accurately, "The song isn't over yet." Asterix only nodded. Elsewhere in the crowd, Jack found himself wishing that he knew the name of the stripper upon stage. He sure wouldn't mind fucking her! Her boobs were . . . incredible. Jack couldn't quite recall why he stopped in this place because strip clubs weren't his style. However, he was now glad that he did! "Let them puppies breathe, Boom Boom," shouted a man seated to the rear of Jack. Jack arched one eyebrow, and thought, hmmmmm? Boom Boom? Appropriate name! He, like everybody else in the room ogled Bunny . . . now Boom Boom's mammoth tits. Boom Boom just giggled, and blew a kiss to the man behind Jack. ********** Meanwhile outside, the gravel parking lot could no longer support the influx of people pouring into The Roadhouse. Men and women alike streamed into the heretofore dead establishment. Those vehicles that couldn't find a parking spot found spaces along the berm of the road. There was literally a line to get into the bar. There was a veritable throng present to hear the next line of "Legs." ********** "Every time she dances, she knows what to do." With those new words, Boom Boom's entire style of dancing changed radically. She shrugged off the torn bra, setting her massive chest to bouncing. Wide pink areolae, the size of cup saucers were now visible to the audience. In the center of those cookies was a thumb sized, fully erect nipple. The Daisy Duke short began to shrink once again. The fabric of their existence narrowed more and more until all that remained was a skimpy, sequined G-string. The dissipated material of the shorts was not wasted, for a garter belt slowly formed on Boom Boom's mid thigh. Dollar bills materialized from nothing more than air under the elastic band of the garter belt. Boom Boom dropped to her hands and knees, so that she could crawl around on stage like some type of wild animal in heat. She wiggled her fanny so provocatively. She lowered her front torso just enough that her massive tits, specifically her gigantic nipples, rubbed the surface of the flooring. At this point, the new stripper needed release so badly that she could just scream. Thus commenced a series of sexual and explicitly revealing poses that would have made any stripper envious. Each move was designed to extract more and more money from the energized crowd. Indeed, those men previously seated at the tables now stood all around the perimeter of the stage. There was an assortment of paper money in their hands. Truly, the last lyrics gave unto Boom Boom the consummate skill of a stripper. Each man wanted just the chance to touch Boom Boom's svelte legs as he tucked a bill underneath the garter. Each just wanted to be so close to her . . . to breathe her sweet floral scent. Boom Boom indulged each patron in turn, and never missed the opportunity to rub suggestively up against each donor to her well being. That only got her more turned on than she already was! Asterix winked a Comma, "Watch this!" Asterix stuck a dollar bill into his mouth so that the majority stuck out into the air. He moved toward an opening in the crows at the stage. "Rix!" Comma exasperated, in an futile attempt to stop him. He really was tempting fate now. "I don't think that . . . ." It was too late. Asterix was already there. When Boom Boom saw this, her reaction was immediate . . . instinctive. There was no hesitation whatsoever, a testament as to how far her essential nature had been altered from that of Burt. "Hey, Baby!" she squealed in delight. Even Boom Boom's voice was changed from that of her previous female incarnation. Now it was a feather light, breathy soprano. Her voice was the very heart and soul of a bimbo. Boom Boom swiveled over to Asterix, and stuck her boobs in his face, so that the dollar bill lay between her deep cleavage. Boom Boom shook her shoulders so that the enormous amount of breast flesh jiggled against his cheeks, nose, and mouth. Asterix could smell the petite, buxom girl's naturally sweet and intoxicating aroma. Boom Boom reached up with her immaculately manicured hands, pushed her tits together, and trapped the prize in between. She dance away gracefully, extracting the monetary award as she did so. The girl giggled once again, "Tee hee!" The former Burt's mind was so diminished, and child-like, that she didn't see anything wrong with her actions. It seemed so right . . . so natural. Why else would she be built as she was? He realized that she was nothing more than a bimbo to be ogled by men. However, it was okay with her. It made her so happy and warm inside to make others so happy. Boom Boom accepted her reason for being. Lyrics issued from the jukebox once again, " . . . . everybody wants to see, see if she can use it!" Those magical words worked a two part alteration, with the first being to the heavenly hootered young dancer. The second was to her growing, boisterous audience. This change to the former man was more biochemical than it was physical. The tiny, yet large in places, girl's biochemistry altered such that it produced sweet smelling phermones in overwhelmingly copious amounts. In other words, the very smell of her made her quite irresistible to men . . . all men. The stripper's very perspiration was a lethal weapon. However, internally it felt like hot, hot blood was running through her veins. As such, each and every man within 50 feet of the transformed girl became drunk on her scent. It jacked up each man's testosterone level into the danger zone. Yes, the audience of male admirers were dunk on her erotic chemical essence, and now only desired to obtain the ultimate carnal knowledge from her. Their minds were awash with visual fantasies of writhing with her in everything from a bed of roses to . . . Jell-O? Well . . . there was no accounting for taste! Having observed Asterix's shining example, the men began to emulate him. They stuck paper money in their mouths . . . or other more suggestive places. Boom Boom giddily wiggled, and danced, to each man in turn. Those bills that she did not remove with her melon-like mammaries, she obtained with her mouth. Those were usually restricted to waistbands on trousers or even open zippers. She lingered just long enough to rub her smooth cheek, or the top of her head on each genital bulge. The crowd was in a state of literal hormonal frenzy. Boom Boom's mystically altered biochemistry, drove the male of the species into a mating frenzy usually reserved for lower species. Much like salmon seeking to spawn. Each of the men would have gladly dashed themselves on sharp rocks . . . just to be close to her. However, they wanted more than a mere touch . . . much, much more! The juiced throng started to shift, as the elbowed or jockeyed for position at the stage. The shoving got so intense that Asterix was forced all of the back to the table with Comma. "Damn. It's getting crazy up there!" blurted Asterix excitedly. Comma only glared at his delivery partner. He knew from the start this meant trouble. The tension of the crowd was such that a good, old fashioned bar fight could erupt at any second. If they got busted in a bar fight, it drastically increased the odds of the old man finding out about all of this. That, unfortunately, would include their role in this passion play. "What?" questioned Asterix, upon seeing Comma's facial expression. "We have to get out of here before this turns ugly!" noted Comma. "Nonsense. Everything's okay. Besides, I want to see the rest of the transformation because I've never seen anything so sexy in my entire life." The two guys were so busy trading words that they missed the next set of lyrics from the song, "Legs." "She's so fine . . . ." blared from the magical jukebox. Time itself was still so bent at right angles that a song that was only a couple of minutes long seemed to go on forever. The elastic time warp accommodated the changes to reality, that occurred to everyone and everything within the ambit of the jukebox. Outside