SRU: Riverdale Revisions free porn video

SRU: Riverdale Revisions By Tebra PROLOGUE: The sun beamed brilliantly across the polished floor of the mall. It was just after 9AM on a Saturday and only a few shoppers had appeared. The old man stood in the doorway of his shop, took another sip of his hot tea, and glanced towards the front of the mall. It was so peaceful at these times, he thought. Before the crowds and the noise. He sighed. This was his time. The moment he allowed himself each day, before plunging into his work. He took another sip of the tea, and then stepped out into the mall to look at his store. He cocked his head and stared at the storefront with a critical eye. Perhaps it was time for a change. His establishment was beginning to look out- of-date, almost quaint. This had been some much easier in the old days. Simply slipping the shop into a downtown area, replacing a vacant store (there always was one) no one ever questioned. And he had always blended in. Now... but still, "retro" was in, and, as he had told that Porter fellow, "everything old is new again". Hearing a clattering of heels on the polished tile floor, he turned to see two girls walking towards him. Both were beautiful, probably no more than 16. The first was a striking brunette wearing a red mini dress and 2 inch heels. She looked around with disdain at the bargain shops her friend was window-shopping at. Her companion was a cute blonde with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore tight jeans and sneakers. The old man smiled, and then stepped back into his shop. "Really, Betty", the brunette said, "why you want to shop at these dreadful el cheapo places is beyond me." The blonde sighed, and then replied, "Because, Veronica, not everyone has your money. Some of us HAVE to buy our clothes at discount places. And these are quite nice clothes, thank you." "Whatever," Veronica said absently, looking around. "Oh, look, Ron! That darling green blouse is half off! I'm going to try it on." 'Huh!' Thought Veronica, 'It'll be more than HALF off, the first time you wear it with Archie.' As Betty slipped inside the boutique, Veronica looked around, an expression of utter disgust on her lovely features. She scanned the storefronts nearby. She mentally ticked them off: "Tacky... tacky... cheap AND tacky..." She stopped. Her eye rested on the odd looking shop. It seemed so out of place. And it looked so DIRTY. Perhaps it was an antique store. She wandered over to its front window. Looking in, she saw all manner of items, some junk and some... some potentially rare things. Was that a Chippendale chair that the dog was sleeping under? She glanced at the name etched into the glass of the door. "Spells 'R' Us" "Huh!" she thought. "How tacky." Turning the knob, she entered and looked around. It was surprisingly cool inside, despite the already hot summer day. "Good morning, Miss Lodge," said a voice almost at her elbow. She jumped, and then whirled to look at the speaker. He was an old man with a long white beard, broad and bushy, giving his face a Santa Clause appearance at first glance. However, a closer look revealed fiercely black eyebrows over eyes that seemed to burn with both intensity and mirth. He was wearing an exquisite 16th century silk robe. Veronica estimated it to be worth 15 thousand, minimum. Yet, incongruously, protruding from the hem of the garment were the tips of bunny slippers. "My apologies," he said in a voice quiet and comforting. "I did not mean to startle you." "It's quite all right," she said, her composure returning. "Can I help you? Was there a particular item you wished to see?" "Yes," she said, turning to point, "That chair over..." her voice trailed off. The dog remained asleep in the corner, but the chair under which it slept was an aluminum and plastic kitchen chair, circa 1957. She stared. She would have sworn the chair was wood. A Chippendale. She rubbed her eyes, and then shook her head to clear it. "Yes?" the man prompted, "The chair?" "I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I thought... never mind. No, no I'm not interested in THAT chair." She looked around, trying to retain her dignity. The door opened and Betty entered. "There you are," she cried. "Honestly, Ronnie, next time let me know where you're going." She looked around curiously. "I never would have expected you to be HERE." Veronica, somewhat embarrassed to be found in what now appeared to be a cheap junktique store, lifted her chin and replied haughtily, "I'll have you know I just came in here for... for..." her eyes darted around the store, then fixed on a box of small, yellow packages by the cash register. "For GUM!" she finished, grabbing a pack and slapping it down on the counter. The old man smiled, and then rang up the purchase. "75 cents," he said. Veronica began rummaging through her purse. "Oh, dear," she said, holding out a bill, "The smallest I've got is a hundred." The old man began to reach for the twenties slot of his cash drawer when Betty said, "Never mind, Ron." She fished out a dollar from her hip pocket and handed it to the man. "Here you go," she said, giving him a broad smile. "Thank you, Miss Cooper," he said, grinning in reply. Betty took the quarter he offered, tossed Ronnie the gum, and turned to go. "Remember, ladies," the old man called, "always read the directions." Betty looked at him oddly, and then opened the door. Veronica pushed past her, cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. As they moved back into the mall, Betty suddenly stopped and said, "Hey! How'd that old guy know my name? Did you tell him?" "Betty, dear, you know I don't talk about you if I can help it." "Hah-hah. Big surprise." she said. They continued on for a while, window- shopping, until Betty said thoughtfully, "Say, what do you think he meant about reading the instructions?" "I have no idea, Betty. All I bought was this gum," she said holding up the yellow pack. "Shit!" she exclaimed. "What's wrong?" Betty asked. "This!" said Ronnie, holding out the gum. Betty took the pack and examined it. Despite its familiar yellow appearance, a closer look revealed not the familiar "Juicyfruit" logo, but rather the words "Geniefruit", while underneath was printed the slogan: 'A Wish in Every Stick'. "Can you believe it," Ronnie ranted. "The bastard sold me KNOCK-OFF gum! And for more than the real stuff costs!" "Hmmm," said Betty, turning the package over in her hands. "Hey, look at this. It really does have instructions." "Oh, yeah," continued Ronnie, snatching the gum and shoving it deep into her purse, "'Put in mouth. Chew.' Big fuckin' deal!" "Don't forget 'Do not attempt to walk while chewing'," Betty giggled. Ron smiled, and they headed out the doors towards the car. Part 1: VERONICA Veronica Lodge has always been a sound sleeper. In fact, was one to ask the staff at the Lodge mansion, one could be told that the dainty Miss Lodge can saw wood with the best of them. So it was not surprising when she slept right through her alarm clock on Tuesday morning. 8AM came and went, as did 9. And 10. And 11. When she awakened, blissful and refreshed, at the crack of 11:45, Miss Lodge stretched, yawned, glanced at the clock, and began to scream. "SMITHERS!" she bellowed, her voice echoing through the halls of the mansion like a foreman's. Taking the steps two at a time, the faithful butler skidded to a stop in Veronica's doorway. "Yes... Miss Veronica?" he gasped. "Smithers, you ASSHOLE!" she screamed. You KNOW I have a date with Archie at 12:30! How the Hell do you expect me to get ready in time?!" Smithers, in fact, did not know anything about Veronica's date, nor did anyone else on the household staff. Veronica never informed them of these things, preferring to use her ESP to broadcast the news. "Miss Veronica," the panting man stammered, "I had no idea..." "Shut up!" she snarled. "Get in the bathroom and draw me a bath. I've got to see what I've going to wear." Smithers hurried to the tub, while Veronica flung open her closet and walked inside. She paused to remember exactly where she and Archie were going. Oh yes, a picnic. God, she hated picnics. She wasn't even all that fond of Archie. He was really pretty disappointing in the sack. Sort of a "Wham, Bam, Thank you ma'am" without the Wham or the Bam. In fact, he wasn't very thankful, either. Ronnie wasn't really very fond of him at all. Not like Reggie. She smiled. Reggie. Now THERE was something worth riding. He could stay hard for hours and she loved it. He even got into her kinky games. Not like Archie, that dud, with his perennial missionary style, 68-second fuck. Sigh! Why, in heaven's name was she getting ready for a picnic with Archie when a stud like Reggie was a phone call away? The answer came in one word: Betty. Betty wanted Archie. And, Ronnie felt, actually deserved him. She, with her whitebread mid-American wholesomeness, and he of the boring, G-rated fuck. They really belonged together. If she had her way, she'd give him to her. She really would. Except for one thing: Betty WANTED him. As long as Betty wanted the little prick, Ronnie would die rather than give him up. And to keep him, she had to keep him happy. She began to practice. Sorting through her wardrobe, she whispered hoarsely, "Oh God, oh God! Ohhh, that feels so good! Harder, baby! Harder! Oh! Oh!! OH!!!" She rolled her eyes. "How does he never manage to catch on" she wondered. "Probably because the only other pussy he's ever poked is Betty's. And she probably says the same thing. But," she giggled," I bet she actually MEANS it." She dropped her outfit on the bed. Tube top, short shorts, sandals. Underwear optional. "Sigh," she thought, " Of course, this means he'll have a hard-on the whole time. Again. I'd better drive. After the last time he tried to drive with a boner, we almost went into the lake." With that, she grabbed her designer fanny pack and began loading it with essentials from her purse. As her hands raked across the purse bottom, she found the pack of gum where she'd tossed it Saturday. Absently, she tore it open and popped a stick into her mouth. "Miss Veronica," Smithers announced, "Your bath is ready." "About damn time," she snarled, tossing the fanny pack to the bed, spilling its contents across the silken sheets. "Shit!" she exclaimed, "Shit, shit, shit!! Hell, just leave it there. I've gotta get ready." With that, she let the satin nightgown drop from her tan shoulders, caught it with a flip of her leg and tossed it into the face of the butler. Pirouetting, she smiled and asked, "Like what you see, Smithers?" His face an expressionless mask, Smithers dryly remarked, "Adequate, I think." "You asshole," she said with a grin, then turned and headed into the bathroom, all the while enjoying the hard-on she saw straining against the butler's smartly creased trousers. Veronica slipped into the hot, bubbled waters and lay back. She closed her eyes and began to relax. Her breathing grew slower and soon the sound of snoring filled the room. Nonplused, Smithers entered the bathroom carrying a silver pitcher of ice water. Walking to the tub, he emptied the contents over Veronica's head. She leapt to her feet, drenching the room and the butler. "What..." she began, her voice trembling with rage, "What the FUCK was that?!" "Ice water," he replied. "I know it was fucking ice water, you prick! What was it doing on my head?!" "As you stated earlier, you have a date with Master Archie in..." he checked his pocket watch, "32 minutes. You have no time to sleep. Good day, Miss Veronica." She shook with rage as she watched him leave the room. She was pissed. And she was pissed because he was right. Damn it, she hated it when Smithers was right. She hopped back into the tub and began hurriedly soaping her legs. She'd get him, she thought. Just wait 'll next time they played "Mistress and Manservant". No nookie for him. Hah! She began to feel better already. Twenty minutes later, she sat in front of her enormous vanity mirror, rollers in her hair and a copious amount of mudpack obscuring her features. She stared at her reflection, then crossed her eyes and blew a bubble. She giggled. Thank God Archie couldn't see her now. She walked over to the bed and began to wiggle the short shorts up her legs. Suddenly, she heard the chimes of the front door bell. From far away, she heard voices talking, then the pounding of feet up the stairs. "Ronnie!" a voice called, "Are you ready yet?" Archie! Shit! She was nowhere near ready. And she looked awful. She couldn't let him see her like this. It just wasn't done. She looked around for somewhere to hide. As she heard the doorknob rattle, she hissed under her breath, "I wish I could just disappear." And with that, Veronica Lodge, 16 year-old heiress, cheerleader, tease, and sexual adventuress, vanished. The door swung open and a redheaded, freckle-faced boy stood in the doorway. He scanned the room, and then shrugged. With hunched shoulders, he slowly left the mansion. "Huh!" he thought, "Blew me off again. She's probably out with Reggie. Man, why do I put up with her?" He slowly trudged towards the Chocklit Shop, leaving behind the very elegant and very EMPTY room of Veronica Lodge. Part 2: JUGHEAD Jughead Jones was hungry. He was always hungry. In fact, he could not recall a moment in his life when he had not been hungry. So it was a testimony to his friendship to Archie Andrews that at this moment, he was passing up the opportunity to enjoy a plate of burgers at the Chocklit Shop, and was hunting for his friend. Jughead knew Arch had a date with Ronnie at 12:30. He also knew Ronnie had never been on time in her life, so he felt his chances for catching Archie at her house were good. He bounded up the back steps of the Lodge mansion (his favorite method of entering, as the kitchen lay there) and poked his head inside. Gaston, the French chef employed by the Lodges, stood surrounded by seemingly mountains of food. Jughead's eyes glazed over and he began to drool. "Gaston," he called, "Mi amigo, ma compadre'..." "Non!" interrupted the Frenchman. "Non, non, non! Not a bite, Zughaid, not a morsel! Ziz is for Mister Lodge's dinnair party tonight!" "But Gaston," Jug began, "There's so much... Nobody'd miss a little bit?" "Alors'!" Gaston cried, "Wiz you, zere is no such zing as a LEETLE bit!" Jug tried to look pitiful, but even he couldn't keep from laughing at this. He said, "All right, I know when I'm licked." Gaston regarded him with suspicion, but also grinned. "Anyway, I really came by to see if Arch was here. Have you seen him?" "Non, but I 'eard him go up ze stairs to Mam'selle Veronica's room a short time ago. He's probably still zere." "Thanks, Gaston." "Zughaid. Wait a moment," Gaston called. Jug turned and Gaston said with a wink, "Ef zay are togather in Mam'selle Veronica's room, you'll probably 'ave to wait." Jug grinned in agreement. "'owever," Gaston continued, slipping him a cold drumstick, "Since it is Archee, she is weeth, it shouldn't be a LONG wait, non?" "Not long at all," agreed Jug, taking the offered treat and moving up the back stairs. "Not long at all." Jug moved down the second floor hallway, licking his lips. Nearing Veronica's door, he paused to drop the flayed drumstick bone into a large flowerpot. He stepped to the open door and knocked. "Hello?" he called. Stepping inside, he looked around. Seeing no sign of his good buddy or Riverdale's Teen Queen, Jug was about to leave when something caught his eye. There, on Ronnie's bed lay an open pack of gum. It was no ice cream cone, but Jug WAS in need of something sweet to finish off his little snack. He unwrapped a stick and began to chew. His mind drifted back to the mountains of goodies surrounding Gaston in the kitchen. Absently, he slipped the gum into his pocket. His food fantasies were making him drool again. He wiped his mouth with back of his hand and said, "Damn! Food like that is enough to make me wish I was Veronica." And with that, Jughead's body began to twitch and squirm, flesh flowing like water. His already thin waist constricted, moving higher on his torso. His hips widened, threatening to rip the seams of his chinos. His chest swelled, forcing the 'S' on his shirt high and wide. His black hair grew longer, falling past his shoulders, and his fingernails formed themselves into perfect ovals. He seemed to shrink all over, becoming both smaller and shorter. And his nose... his impossibly huge, distinctively Jonesish beak, shrank into a tiny, upturned button on his now smooth face. His swollen chest separated into two distinct, round shapes, his tiny nipples standing erect against the rough fabric of his T-shirt. And down below, his secret weapon, his dick, and his monumental 13-inch rod, dwindled to nothing, swallowed by his body. Then that body began to split, opening into a warm, wet slit between his legs. His hands flew to his crotch, then to his breasts. A look of horror was etched on his now-lovely features. "Shit." he whispered, in a voice not his own. At the sound of the soft, high-pitched tones, his hand left his crotch to grasp his throat. "Oh my God!" he gasped, in a voice like honey. He stared at himself, his clothes fitting his now-feminine frame oddly, yet provocatively. He tore his eyes away from his body and looked around the room wildly. Spying the large vanity mirror, he raced towards it. Or tried to. His new arrangement of weight and mass, not to mention pants now too long for him, combined to bring him crashing to the ground within three steps. With tears beginning to flow, he pulled himself to his knees and crawled across the room. Reaching the vanity, he struggled into the chair and stared disbelievingly into the glass. Looking back at him, hair disheveled and tears dripping from her cheeks, was Veronica Lodge. He reached a trembling hand to his face and watched in horror as the girl in the glass did the same thing. He reached for the tiny nose, moving his fingers across it in wonder. He examined the hand touching the nose; small, delicate fingers with perfect nails. No sign of the small scar on the back of the left hand, a memento of a barbwire fence when he was ten. He stared at his deep green eyes, no longer the brown he'd known for sixteen years. Reaching upward with his small, delicate hands he removed the gray felt, crown-shaped hat he always wore. His hair, though standing out at wild angles, shown with luster and fell in waves across his shoulders. He moved his hands lower, lifting the tee shirt to stare in wonder at the twin forms on his chest. He touched one nipple with a fingertip, experiencing a tingle of pleasure. He cupped them in each hand, index fingers massaging the nipples. An involuntary moan escaped his lips, its throaty, feminine quality bringing his mind back to reality. He pulled his hands away as though his breasts were hot coals. Shuddering with a mixture of pleasure and revulsion, he unzipped his chinos and slipped a hand inside his shorts. His fingers met warm, wet flesh. Hesitating only a moment, he slipped a finger inside his new-found opening. More fingers quickly joined the first, while the other hand spread the lips wide as he bent nearly double trying to see this mysterious object. His fingertips brushed something and he almost slid out of the chair. Carefully, he felt for the object again, lightly brushing it. Again, waves of pleasure filled him. With a mixture of clinical detachment and Christmas-morning joy, he realized it was his clit! Ronnie's clit! No, damn it, HIS clit! He began to stroke it, faster and faster, his hips unconsciously thrusting him out of the chair again and again. Then it happened. A pressure, building and building in his groin suddenly exploded, washing over him with wave after wave of pleasure. As the roaring in his ears subsided, he realized he could hear someone squealing with pleasure. Then he realized it was him! He clamped his jaw shut and listened hard. He could hear footsteps coming down the hall! "Oh God," he though, "Oh God, I 'm caught. They've caught me jerkin' off in Ronnie's room. Oh God." Suddenly, Smithers stood in the doorway, his large frame filling it and preventing anyone else from entering. Jug looked at him miserably, cheeks flushed crimson, hands still in his crotch. Smithers sighed, and then turned to the rest of the staff. "False alarm, everyone. It appears Miss Veronica has... spilled something on herself." The others moved away, quite a few of them grinning with surety of what had really happened. Smithers stepped inside and quietly closed the door. He stood over Jug and looked at him disapprovingly. "Really, Veronica," he said, exasperation in his voice, "I thought you were over this? You haven't done one of your 'happy squeals' in ages." Jug just stared uncomprehendingly, overcome with embarrassment. "Must 'uv been a good one, eh?" Smithers said with a wink. Jug said nothing, but looked away, unable to meet another man's gaze in such a situation. Smithers sighed, then reached down and extracted Jug's hands from his pussy. He arched an eyebrow at the boxer shorts, but said nothing. Veronica had certainly engaged in much kinkier clothing before. He grasped Jug by the elbows and brought him unsteadily to his feet. As he stood there, still dazed, Smithers tugged the chinos back in place and zipped them up. He gently placed an arm around Jug's considerably smaller shoulders and let him into the bathroom. Jug stood like a child as Smithers took his dainty hands in his large ones and began to scrub them under the tap. Finished, Smithers took the towel and dried Jug's hands, then squirted a dollop of lotion in each palm. Without thinking, Jug rubbed the lotion in. "I gather you no longer are meeting Master Archie for the picnic?" Smithers asked, maneuvering Jug back into the bedroom. Realizing Smithers was waiting for an answer, Jug turned to him and managed, "No... No, I'm... I'm not." Smithers nodded knowingly, though he had no idea why she'd changed her mind. Poor kid probably said something wrong. Veronica could be a real bitch when she wanted to. "It's just as well, Miss," he said. "You don't seem very steady today. Perhaps you're ill. Or is it that time of month again?" Jug tried, but he just couldn't make his mind grasp what Smithers had said. "Ill, I guess," he mumbled. "Well, stand there," Smithers said, opening a bureau drawer. Rummaging, he pulled out an emerald green nightgown and laid it on the bed. Turning to Jug, he pulled the T-shirt over his head, showing no surprise at the lack of a bra. Unzipping the pants, he dropped them to the floor. Seeing the boxers, he turned to another drawer and removed a matching pair of green panties. Slipping Jug out of the boxers, he shimmied the silken panties into place, and then lowered the nightgown over Jug's head. Then, seating Jug on the bed, Smithers removed the thick, white socks and tossed them into the garbage can. Pushing Jug down, Smithers pulled the covers over him, kissed him on the forehead, and said, "Rest now. You should be fine in a few hours." He left, closing the door behind him. Jughead Jones, 16 year-old woman-hater, work-avoider, food-maniac, and BOY lay there, in his panties and nightgown, feeling his breasts rise and fall with each breath. He inched his hands back toward his crotch. After several orgasms, Jug was feeling considerably mellower. In fact, he positively glowed. He rolled and stretched, enjoying the feel of each and every sensation. He felt good. He felt great. He felt...hungry. In many ways, this relieved his mind. Hunger was familiar to him. It was an old friend. He felt more like himself. And he remembered all that food Gaston had in the kitchen. And he was Veronica, now. Gaston couldn't keep him from eating all he wanted. He licked his lips. He rolled out of bed and peeled off the nightgown. He grabbed his chinos and worked them over his wide hips. Zipping them up, he tossed on his T-shirt and headed downstairs. Whatever had caused this was beyond Jug's experience. He needed to think things over. And he always thought better on a full stomach. Part 3: BETTY Several hours later, Jug sat in the Lodge dining room, a score of dirty plates scattered around him. He was just finishing a BLT and musing over his new situation when Betty walked in. She stared at him, unable to believe what she saw. There sat Veronica Lodge, the queen of fashion, the ultimate snob, Riverdale's #1 diet maven, absolutely stuffed, grease and ketchup on her cheeks, food stains on her clothes, bread crumbs in her hair, and her pants undone to allow her belly more freedom. Betty had known something was wrong when Smithers and Gaston had called. They had been frantic. According to them, Veronica had come downstairs after a nap and demanded that Gaston fix her plate after plate of food, which she devoured with gusto. And she showed no signs of slowing. Betty had rushed right over, fearing Veronica's many neuroses may have spread to include Bulimia. But this... This was beyond any bulimic she'd ever heard of. This was... this was Jughead scale eating. Ronnie saw her and waved her to a chair. She burped loudly, and then said, "Woah, that felt good. How ya doin', Bets?" "Uh...fine, I think. How are YOU?" "Actually," Ron began, taking a bite of a chicken leg, "I was feeling really weird, but now I'm feeling much better." "I...I see," Betty said, staring at the empty plates. "Oh, hey, you want something?" Ron said, motioning to the food. "No, no thanks." "Aw, com'on... have something," she said shoving a steak sandwich in Betty's face. "No!" yelled Betty. "I mean, no, I've...already eaten." "Hey," Ron said, eyes lighting up," I know! How about some gum?" "I... sure, I'll take some gum." This was not going well. She couldn't seem to get Ronnie to quit fixating on food. Maybe if she took the gum, they could move on to another subject. Ron fished the pack out of her pocket and tossed Betty a stick. Chewing, Betty said, "Uh, Ron... are you okay?" "Sure," said Ron, shoving a handful of chips into her mouth. "Why wouldn't I be?" "Oh, I don't know," Betty began, "Maybe because you're eating like a PIG!!" "Really?" asked Ron, pieces of chips flying from her mouth. "Really! God! What is the matter with you?" Ronnie's face changed and she put down her sandwich. Her face turned serious. "Listen, Betty...you really wanna know?" "D-uh!" said Betty, in exasperation. "Okay," Ron began, "It's like this: Something totally weird has happened today. I've... I've TOTALLY CHANGED. I'm... I'm not myself anymore. I've become someone else." "God, that's TRUE!" said Betty. "You're nothing like yourself." "But, see, I AM. I am like myself. It's just that myself isn't the self you're expecting. You're expecting Ronnie's self. And I'm not her." "Oh God," Betty thought, "It's worse than I thought. She's freaked out. Split personality." She started to cry. "Hey, Betty..." Ron said, "Don't cry. It'll be okay." "I'm... I'm sorry," Betty sobbed, "I don't... Why are... God, Ronnie! I just wish you'd act like the Ronnie I know!" Immediately, Betty could see Ronnie's face change. Her composure was back. Her posture changed. No longer sprawled in a chair but she sat with the grace of someone who knows she's better than you'll ever be. She watched as Ronnie stared at her clothes, then the plates of food with a look of horror. Ronnie's eyes grew wide, and then she began to scream. Betty moved to comfort her, but before she could reach her, Ron was off and running up the stairs. Betty started after her, but was stopped by a voice. "Miss Betty?" Smithers asked. Betty gave him a confused look and said with a shrug, "I don't know. But she seems to have snapped out of it. I HOPE." Betty hurried up the stairs. She found Ronnie in the bathroom, head over the toilet, forcing a finger down her throat. She turned away as Ronnie heaved again. "God," she thought, "I was right. Bulimia." She walked back into Ronnie's room and waited, trying to think how to handle this. In the bathroom, Veronica Lodge continued to induce vomiting, emptying herself of all that food Jug had wanted so badly. He couldn't understand it. How could he have wanted all that food? He had a figure to maintain. And his clothes! They may have been okay when he was a boy, but he was Veronica Lodge now. He must always look and dress his best. He shoved a finger down his throat again, but only dry heaves resulted. "Thank God," he thought. He washed his face and looked in the mirror. How had this happened? He still didn't know, still didn't understand. And where the hell was the REAL Veronica? He didn't have any answers. But he felt very different now than before. It was like... he LIKED being Veronica. "No," he whispered, "it's like I WANT to be Veronica. Want it more than anything." He smiled. He tossed his hair. He stuck out his hip. "God," he thought, "I am one hot mama." He looked towards the bedroom. "Hotter than Little Tits in there," he thought smugly, "But who the hell isn't?" He squared his shoulders, gave his big, beautiful breasts a squeeze, and walked into the bedroom. Betty smiled nervously at her friend as she came out of the bathroom. "So..." she said, "How are you feeling?" "Fine," Ronnie said with a smile. "Better and a half!" Betty eyed her questioningly, but Ronnie ignored her and walked back into the bathroom. Betty followed. Ron turned on the bath, adjusting the temperature to suit her, and then emptied some of her expensive Parisian bubble bath into the water. "$50 an ounce," thought Jug, then stopped. "Why did I think about that," he wondered. "I've never been hung up on what things cost. Have I?" He thought hard, remembering he hadn't, but now unable to understand why he hadn't. Money was so IMPORTANT. It was so obvious. Just like looking your best. God, where had his head been? He stood and peeled off the T-shirt. This was pathetic. What a rag. Why had he practically lived in them until now? He tossed the shirt into the garbage can. Then, emptying the pants pockets, he tossed them as well. He hid the contents of the pants from Betty, no longer feeling any desire to let her know he wasn't really Veronica. He was... No. SHE. She was Veronica Lodge and she was damn well gonna stay that way. She slipped out of her panties, slid into the hot, bubbled water and lay back. She closed her eyes and began to relax. "Ahem," said Betty. Ronnie opened one eye and stared at her. As Jughead, he had always liked Betty. In fact, she was his favorite fuck, since she got so wild when they did it. Now, however, she was finding her tiresome. Betty really was a tawdry little thing. So tacky. Why hadn't she seen it before? "Yes?" she asked. "Uh, Ron, you uh, you wanna talk?" "No, not particularly." "You don't think what you did was unusual?" "Hell, yes, it was unusual! It was sick!" Ron said, sitting up and sloshing water on the floor. "But it's over. I'm myself again. Veronica Lodge is back, and I'm feeling fine." "And that's it?" asked Betty. "Yes, that's it. Goodbye." she said, with a wave of her hand. Fuming at her friend's condescension, Betty stalked towards the bedroom door. As she turned the knob, she heard Veronica call, "Betty?" "Well," thought Betty, "Maybe she's actually gonna apologize." She walked back to the bathroom door. "Yes?" she asked. "Oh, Betty, be a dear and ask Smithers to bring me a glass of tea. Caffeine free, of course." "Arrgh!" mumbled Betty as she slammed the door. "What is her problem?" mused Veronica, as her long delicate fingers snaked towards her pussy for the third time that day. Downstairs, Betty stopped and helped Smithers clear away the last of the dishes in the dining room. He looked at her questioningly. She shrugged. "She seems to be her old self again. Must be. She got me mad as hell before I left. Oh, and her highness wants you to bring her a glass of tea. 'Caffeine free, of course'" Smithers smiled. Everything must be back to normal. Veronica was being snotty and obnoxious and Betty was pissed off about it. "Well, try not to be so upset, Miss Betty. She IS your friend." He said, taking the plates from her. Betty laughed. "I know," she said, "That's the hell of it. She really thinks she's being a good friend." "Good-bye, Miss Betty. Thank you again." "Sure, Smithers, no trouble." And with that, she stood on tiptoes and kissed him full in the mouth. She parted her lips and the kiss lasted well over a minute. When they parted, she whispered huskily, "I need taking care of, too, Smithers." "Of course, Miss Betty, but when..." "Tonight, damn you... My folks are out of town and I need it bad, Smithers! BAD!" "Tonight, then," he smiled. Then, patting her behind, he guided her to the door. "You won't forget?" she asked, with childlike desperation. "I never do," he said, then closed the door. Her mood considerably happier now, Betty wandered down the sidewalk towards home, whistling "God Save the Queen". Part 4: ARCHIE Wednesday morning found Archie Andrews depressed. It also found him quite horny, since he hadn't gotten off in over two days. Veronica had ditched him yesterday, probably for a quick one with Reggie, he thought. Typically, Archie assumed it was a "quick one", lacking any personal experience with anything else. Then Betty was busy last night, doing her damn hair. And her folks were out of town! Shit! His luck was awful. And on top of everything else, he couldn't find Jughead. Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews had been best friends since grade school. They'd been through good times and bad, always there for each other. But now, Jughead was missing. No one had seen him since yesterday morning. His folks were frantic. This just wasn't like Jug. Archie had spent the whole of yesterday (once it became apparent he wasn't getting any) looking for his friend. Despite his best efforts, Jughead was nowhere to be found. The last anyone had seen of him was when Gaston had sent him up to see Ronnie. But Ron said he never got there. She hadn't seen him. And she didn't seem to really care. God, she could be a bitch at times, he thought. Today, he was at it again. He'd been up since six, checking Jug's favorite eateries. No sign of him. And business was down 10%. Archie smiled. If Jug didn't turn up soon, the Riverdale fast food industry was going to experience a recession. He checked one last place, Harry's Hideout, a dirty little place across town where Jug occasionally went for potato pancakes. No luck. With head down and hands in pocket, Archie trudged back towards Pop Tate's Chocklit Shop. If Jug showed up anywhere, it'd be there. As he crossed Oak Street, he turned and looked south out of habit. Four houses down was Betty Cooper's house. Archie paused, thinking about Betty, her long, golden ponytail flipping through the air as she rode his cock. He began to get hard, just thinking about it. He turned and looked north towards the Chocklit Shop, then south to Betty's. He shrugged and headed south. Cutting across the grass, he poked his head into the Cooper's garage. Empty. Her folks weren't back yet. He smiled. His chances began to look better. He bounded up the kitchen steps and drew back his hand to knock. He stopped. From inside, he heard a man's voice. Then giggling. "Huh?" thought Archie, "I thought her folks weren't back. Maybe they got back, then Mrs. Cooper had to go somewhere with the car. Damn!" He felt the need for a cold shower. Taking a deep breath, he began to recite the multiplication tables to himself. He hadn't been much of a boner and it only took through the 4's for it to wither away. He knocked on the door. Suddenly the laughter stopped, followed by the sounds of rushing around. After a few moments, Betty's sleep-tousled head appeared in the door. Holding her light cotton robe closed to the neck, she looked out. Spying Archie, she smiled and released her hand, allowing the robe to dangle invitingly open. She unlocked the door and said, "Well, hi, early bird. What are you doing out of bed at this time of day?" "Looking for Jug," Archie said, looking around. Betty looked at him questioningly. He gestured towards the living room, "I thought your dad was here," he said. "No," she said, blushing ever so slightly, "Just me. Just little ol' Betty." "I was sure I heard a man talking..." He began. "Television," she said immediately. "Television. I was watching television. LOUD television." "Oh," he said, slightly confused. Betty, still looking slightly embarrassed, asked, "Hey, you want some coffee? Or some toast?" "Nah," he said, remembering now why he had dropped by. He moved close to her. Slipping his arms around her perfectly proportioned frame, he said, "I just thought, since your folks weren't back yet..." He let his hands slide to her rear, confirming his suspicion that she was naked underneath. She felt him grow hard inside his jeans and pressed herself to him. She kissed him hard, their tongues intertwining. Reaching down, she unzipped his fly with practiced ease. As she pulled him free, he slipped the tie on her robe and she swiftly wrapped her legs hard around his waist. Easing herself onto him, she began to moan. As he thrust hard upward, she began to ride with wild abandon no one would believe her capable of. "No one but Archie," she thought, thrusting harder and faster, "And Jughead. Sweet, sweet Juggie. And Reggie. And..." Her mind began to lose count, as she squirmed in passion, a high, throaty moan escaping her lips. And as she began to cry out with pleasure, Smithers quietly slipped out the front door and walked down the street. "Remarkable girl," he thought. "Only awake 45 minutes and already having her second fuck of the day." He sighed. He was getting too old for this. As he walked down the sidewalk, briskly twirling his umbrella, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Cooper drive by. "My," he thought to himself, "This should be good." He turned to watch. Two minutes later, he saw a white-faced Archie Andrews shoot out the very door he had used to exit the Cooper home not ten minutes before. The boy ran along, attempting to both tuck in his shirt and zip up his jeans. Had Smithers not called out, he would more than likely been bowled over by the young Lothario. "Master Archie," he called, no trace of knowledge showing on his impassive face. "Smithers!" He cried, barely stopping short of the butler. "What...what are you doing here?" he asked, still trying to zip his jeans. "Stop!" said Smithers, in a commanding voice. Archie froze in guilt. Looking more kindly, Smithers said, "Unzip them all the way, then slowly use BOTH hands to pull them to the top." Following Smithers' orders, Archie soon managed to right himself. Then, sheepishly, he asked, "Uh... Smithers... are you, uh... you know... just out for a walk?" Deciding he had had enough fun, and not wishing to explain exactly why he WAS there, Smithers nodded. "Exactly. I was taking my morning constitutional when I observed..." he paused, seeing the uncomfortable look in the boy's eye. Continuing, he said, "When I observed you coming down the sidewalk towards me in some distress." Archie breathed a sigh of relief. Then, his narrow escape and humiliation behind him, he remembered exactly what had started all this. "Smithers," he asked, "Have you seen Jughead? Today or yesterday? He seems to have vanished." Smithers paused, thinking back. "No, Master Archie, I haven't seen Master Jughead in days. Of course, he usually enters via the kitchen." "Okay. Thanks, anyway." He waved and hurried towards the Chocklit Shop as Smithers turned and, humming "Thank Heaven for Little Girls", headed home. By midday, Archie had to admit that his best friend had vanished. Jughead was nowhere to be found. Archie had asked everyone if they'd seen Jug. Unfortunately, as word spread, more and more kids became award of Jughead's disappearance and Archie found HIMSELF being asked if he'd seen Jug. Betty, who'd joined him at the Chocklit Shop shortly after her parents had returned, sat across the booth from Archie. Beside him sat Dilton Doily, Riverdale's resident genius. Across from them, beside Betty, sat Big Moose, varsity fullback. Dilton was outlining a plan to feed all relevant facts into his computer and have it compute the most likely place for Jughead to be. Moose held a stack of "missing" flyers to nail up around town. The Chocklit Shop had in short order become a beehive of activity dedicated to finding Jughead Jones. Archie glanced around, seeing many familiar faces. It seemed as if all of Riverdale were in on the hunt. All, he noted, but two. Reggie Mantle and Veronica Lodge were conspicuously absent. Archie felt the blood rush to his head. He was sure they were together. This really pissed him off. Jughead missing, who-knows-where, and they're off banging their brains out! Realizing Dilton had stopped talking and was waiting for an answer, Archie turned his attention to his friends again. "Uh... yeah, Dilt. That sounds great. Why don't you get right on that. I'm uh, I'm gonna work on something on my own." He slipped out of the booth and headed out the door. Shrugging, Betty followed. Halfway down the sidewalk, she caught up to him. "So," she said, "Whatcha doin'?" "Nothing." "Uh huh." They walked along in silence for a while. "You know, Arch, I couldn't help noticing your 'nothing' leads straight to Veronica's house." "Yeah. So?" "So...you expect Juggie to be THERE?" Archie stopped, momentarily confused. He had been so jealous he had forgotten all about Jughead. "Some friend," he thought. "Uh...well," he began," No, I don't expect him to BE there. But I do expect to find out why Ronnie's not helping look for him." "Um...that's probably not a good idea," Betty began. "Why?" Archie yelled, turning to her. "Is it because she's with Reggie? Is that it? Are you covering for her? Huh? Are you, SLUT?" Betty calmly reached up and slapped Archie across the cheek. She hit him with such force that he spun around and fell into the grass. Betty squatted beside him. "Excuse me," she said, digging one finger into her ear, "I don't think I heard you correctly. What was that?" "Why," Archie moaned, "exactly, would that be a bad idea, Betty, dear?" She sat down beside him and cradled his head in her lap. "Because, Archiekins, Veronica was... acting rather odd yesterday." "What'cha mean?" he said, still slightly dazed. "Um..."she screwed up her face and said, "Kinda like she wasn't herself. Actually..." he voice trailed off. Archie looked up, seeing a far-away look in her eyes. "Bets?" he asked. "You know," she said, wonderingly, "Ronnie was acting a lot like JUGGIE. At least at first. Then she straightened up and became her old, bitchy self." "Juggie?" Archie repeated. "Yeah," said Betty, helping him to his feet. "Wonder if it means anything?" "Let's go see," he said, starting off. And this time, there wasn't a thought of Reggie in his head. Veronica Lodge sat cross-legged on her bed. She stared down at the items resting on her silken sheets. A comb, some change, a pocketknife, nail clippers, a pack of gum with two sticks left (which was hers, anyway, she thought as she tossed it to the nightstand), a billfold, and a gray felt, crown-shaped hat. The mortal remains of Jughead Jones. Ronnie felt odd looking through them. Even though she knew they were hers. Had been hers. When she was Jughead. Still, she was Veronica now. And going through these things seemed strange. But she had to get rid of them. Everyone in town was even now hunting for the "missing" Jughead. She giggled. Everyone was looking for Jughead, who was right here, and no one was looking for Veronica who was who-knows-where. This didn't seem to bother her too much, either. Even though she knew that the real Veronica was missing, she felt like SHE was the real Veronica. And she was right here. So how could Veronica REALLY be missing? But Jughead was. There was no way around that. What was she going to do? She couldn't tell anyone what had really happened. They'd think she was crazy. And if they BELIEVED her, they'd make her stop being Veronica. They'd take her away to that dreary little shack of his and make her be Jughead again. She started to cry. "No!" she whispered sharply. "No! I'll be damned if I'll EVER be Jughead again! I'm Veronica. V-E-R-O-N-I-C-A! Veronica-fuckin'-Lodge! And Nobody's taking that away from me!" She smiled, and then hugged herself, enjoying the feel of the satin teddy she wore. Her fingers began to edge towards her crotch. "No." she said wistfully, "Not now. I've got things to do." She sighed and turned her attention back to the possessions on the bed. She picked up the hat, holding it like a dead mouse. She dropped it into her wastecan. The nail clippers, comb, and pocketknife followed. She barely felt a twinge as she tossed away the knife, which had been his father's, grandfather's and great-grandfather's. She just thought it looked really tacky now. She swept the change into her hand and tossed it away. She hated coins. Disgusting little things. Not like REAL money. If you actually NEEDED coins, you were just poor. She opened the wallet. Fifteen dollars, some I.O.U.'s, discount cards at various restaurants...God, she'd been a pig! Library cards, school ID, pictures...She stopped. She lifted the photos out and looked at them. The first was with Archie. The two of them, arms around each other at summer camp, holding up a snake they'd killed. "Ugh," she shivered, "How'd I ever manage to get so close to a snake?" There was several of Big Ethel. She was a tall, gangly girl with an overbite. When she was Jughead, she'd always found Ethel cute. She knew from experience Ethel was good in the sack. "No Betty Cooper," she mused, "But then, who is?" Suddenly, she lifted her chin defiantly and said, "I am, damn it! I'M fuckin' better than Betty Cooper! Shit, I wish I was here to fuck! I'd show him. I can out fuck Little Tits Cooper any fuckin' day of the week! I can..." she stopped, realizing she was, in fact, ranting about showing herself how good a fuck she was. She shook her head. "Too fuckin' crazy for me," she mumbled. Returning to the photos, she tore the Ethel's in half, then lifted out one of Jellybean. Jughead's little sister. She was only two, but she loved Jug so much. He was "big brudder", always able to fix things. Ronnie smiled. Of course, Jellybean wasn't her real name. Her real name was...was... Ronnie seemed confused. She thought hard, contorting her face with effort. Her name was...was... She didn't know. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember her own little sister's name. She felt sick. Then, she felt angry. "So what!" she thought. "So what if I can't remember the little brat's birthday? It's not like I really care! She's just some tacky little child in... in some... some tacky ... little... house..." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. After a long while, she stopped. Then, sniffling, she walked into the bathroom and began to apply cold compresses to her eyes. She couldn't allow Riverdale's number one heiress to have puffy eyes. When she'd finished, she walked back into the bedroom, gathered all of Jughead's belongings and plopped them into the wastecan. Dusting her hands, she turned to select her wardrobe for the day. She paused. Looking back, she quickly snatched the photograph of Jellybean out of the trash and slipped it into the drawer of her nightstand. She smiled. Choosing her outfit for the day was both harder and easier than she expected. Her Jughead personality had expected a quicker time of it, while her Veronica side felt pleased that she selected her ensemble in only 45 minutes. Wiggling into a pair of jeans so tight it was apparent that she was wearing thong panties, she then slipped into a pair of 3-inch pumps and a gorgeous cream-colored blouse. She was just applying the final touches to her make-up when she heard a knock at the bedroom door. She turned, seeing Archie and Betty looking at her curiously. "Well," thought Ron, "He's got NERVE. Bringing that little tramp here with him." At the same time, she was horrified to be reacting to her best buddy that way. "This is the guy I've hung out with all my life," she thought, "How the hell can I be thinking of screwing him?" Yet she did think of it. And seemed strangely unmoved by the prospect. "Hmmm..." she mused, "Arch always told me he was quite the stud, but... I just don't feel it. Maybe it's 'cause I'm not really Ronnie. Let's see... Lemme think of Reggie. What does that... Oh boy! I'm getting wet down there. Wow! Reg IS a stud. I wonder what he's doing? Mmmm..." She closed her eyes. "Uh, Ron?" Betty asked. "Damn! That bottled-blonde bitch ALWAYS interrupts my fun!" she thought. "Yes, Betty?" she said. "Um...we were wondering...if you...that is, did you know...ah..." "Oh, for..." Archie said, "What she's trying to say, Ronnie, is 'Do you know anything about what's happened to Jug?'" "Why, Archiekins," Ronnie purred, "Whatever do you mean?" "Uh..." began Archie, looking flustered, "Well, Betty said you were acting strange yesterday... kinda like Jughead, and I... well..." "Really, Betty, "Ronnie said, pirouetting, "Do I look like Jughead to you?" "Look, Ron, you and I both know you were pretty fucked up yesterday." "I know no such thing," Ronnie said, tossing her hair. "You were eating like a FUCKIN' PIG!" Betty yelled, moving nose to nose with Ronnie. "Watch your language, SLUT!" said Ronnie icily. "Hoo boy," thought Archie, getting out of the way and sitting down on the bed. "Don't call me slut, you bitch!" roared Betty. "I'll call you anything I want, you little tramp!" Nervously, Archie glanced around. He reached for the gum on the nightstand. Sticking one piece into his shirt pocket, he slid the other stick into his mouth and tossed the wadded wrapper towards the wastecan. It bounced off and he bent to retrieve it. As his eyes swept over the contents of the can, they grew large in their sockets. "Holy shit." he whispered. Both girls stopped at the sound of his strangled whisper. They turned and stared at his white face. Betty tilted her head in a questioning manner. Silently, he reached into the wastecan and withdrew Jughead's billfold and trademark hat. Stunned, they both stared at Veronica. "I can explain," Veronica wailed. Seated on her bed, tears flowing, she looked more miserable than it seemed possible for a person to be. Archie and Betty stood on either side of her, arms folded. Ronnie looked from one to the other. "It's not what you think," she sobbed. "I didn't...I didn't..." "Didn't what, Ronnie?" Betty asked accusingly, "Didn't do away with Jughead?" "Do away with...?" Ronnie seemed confused. "It's no secret that you hated him, Ron. Everybody knew it." "Betty! How could you think... I would never... Archiekins, say something!" "Ron, I... I don't know what to think." "Think I didn't DO anything," Ron implored. "I--I'd like to," he began, "But this..." he held up the wallet, "here? I...I don't know what it means." "I know what it means," snapped Betty. The others turned to look at her. "It means she killed him," she spat. "That's right. Sweet little Veronica Lodge killed Jughead. And she probably thought she'd just buy her way out of any trouble, just like she always does." "So..." Archie said, chewing rapidly, "So you think when she was acting so strange yesterday..." "She'd probably just killed him. Looking back, I realize, she had all the symptoms of being in shock. Hell, she probably had the body hidden in some room in the house the whole time I was here. She...Oh my God." "What?" "It... it's probably still there now. Jughead's dead body is probably in one of these rooms right now!" "It's NOT!" screamed Ronnie. "He's not dead! I didn't kill him!" "All right," said Betty, smugly, "Then what are these doing in your garbage?" She held out the billfold and hat. "Oh God!" thought Ronnie, "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God! I've gotta tell this right! I've gotta make them believe me! Otherwise, I'll go to jail for my own murder!" "Well?" asked Betty. "We're waiting?" Sniffling, Ronnie began, "It... it's like this... Jughead WAS here. Yesterday. I...I lied to you, Archie, when I said he never came up to see me." "Why, Ronnie?" he asked, intently. "Why did you lie to me?" "Because..." She took a deep breath, "Because I was fucking him." "WHAT?" screamed Betty. "I--I don't believe it," muttered Archie, "My girl... and my best friend...." "Hold on a minute, heartbreak boy," said Betty sarcastically. "I find this a little hard to believe. Veronica? And Jughead? Am I the only one thinking 'What's wrong with this picture?'?" "It was...I didn't believe it at first, myself," continued Ronnie, "But it started last summer. One night, at the beach. You two had snuck off together and Reggie had passed out from the beer. It was just Juggie and me. We talked. He was nice. And... I was really drunk. We did it right there, on the beach. And I loved it!" "Damn it, Ronnie, "Archie interjected, "Why can't I ever TRUST you?" "Uh, Arch..." whispered Betty, "remember where WE were while this was happening?" "Oh." he said. Then, blushing, he absently blew a bubble. This was easy. What she'd told so far was true. It had really happened. She remembered it. At least her JUGHEAD side remembered it. She now realized that Veronica had been so drunk, she had no memory of what had happened. She felt a little better. "I always thought she was too ashamed to ever mention it," she thought. "I guess it's better that she just didn't remember it. I think." Veronica continued, warming to her story, "Shortly after that, we began seeing each other. We quickly found out that we still couldn't stand each other. But the SEX! God, the sex was fantastic! Juggie was hung like a horse and he really knew what I liked!" "Okay," snapped Archie, "Now I KNOW you're making this up. Jug? Well-hung? Man, what a load of shit, right Betty?" "Shut up, Arch," Betty muttered. "Bets?" he asked. "Oh," said Ronnie, recovering some of her composure, "Hasn't she ever told you? She's been banging Juggie since seventh grade." "Eighth, and you know it!" shouted Betty defiantly. "And it's not as if I've ever screwed REGGIE while Archie was downstairs waiting on me." "Bitch! You said you'd never tell!" "Ron? Is this true?" asked a crestfallen Archie. Veronica blushed a bright crimson. While she wasn't the Veronica who had done these things, she remembered them clearly. And knew they were true. "Archiekins," she began, "It doesn't matter..." "Shit!" he yelled, pulling away from her. "Shit, Ron! I can't trust you at all, can I?" "Archiekins," she said, "I'm still your girl. You know that." "Well, damn it, Veronica, I wish you'd ACT like it!" He yelled. And with that, Veronica's whole outlook changed. Suddenly, Reggie didn't seem interesting at all. The thought of his 10-inch rod did nothing for her. Neither did Moose, or Chuck, or Harvey. Nor did Bingo or Smithers or Mr. Weatherbee. None of them did anything. But just to look at Archiekins, she began to get weak in the knees. A smile from him and she was wet in an instant. And the thought of his cute little cock--Oh! She almost had an orgasm from the very thought! God, how had she ever thought him uninteresting? He was wonderful! Fascinating! And he was hers! She was his! She was Archie's girl! It sounded so wonderful; she decided to get it tattooed on her. She glared at Betty with hate. What was she doing with HER Archie? The slut! Archie was her's. If Betty ever tried anything... well, then she'd see if Ronnie really WAS capable of murder! And strangely, none of this disturbed the Jughead side of her personality. Arch had always been his best friend. Now, they're just going to be closer. "Archiekins?" she said in a trembling voice, "I--I love you." Archie and Betty both stared at Ronnie in disbelief. Veronica had never told any man she loved him. "You--you mean it?" he asked. "Yes," she smiled, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Oh God, YES!" She flung her arms around him and kissed him hard on the lips. Finally, he had to tear himself away, just so he could breathe. "That's very touching, Ronnie," said Betty. "However, as I recall, just before this profession of love, you were telling us about how you were secretly fucking Jughead behind Archie's back?" "Oh, Betty," stared Veronica in horror, "Don't say it that way! It's disgusting! I--I can't even think about that anymore. Archie's the man I love." "Sure," said Betty, rolling her eyes. "So...what happened to Juggie?" "Oh." Veronica seemed surprised, as if Juggie was the farthest thing from her mind. Gazing lovingly at Archie, she continued, "We... we kept seeing each other, strictly for the sex, right up through yesterday. He--he 'dropped by' and we...well, you know..." "Yes," smiled Betty, "I DO." "Then," Ronnie resumed, "He left. And after he had gone, I found that stuff on the floor, under the bed. I guess it fell out of his pants." "So why was it in the garbage?" asked Betty. "I--I knew everybody was looking for Jughead. I thought that if anyone found that stuff here, they'd think--what YOU thought." "And to prove your innocence, you'd have to tell them what you told us," said Archie quietly. "Yes," sniffed Ronnie. "Oh, Archiekins, please don't make me tell everyone the whole sordid thing." "Betty?" he asked, looking over at her. "Ahh, what the hell," said Betty, "I never REALLY thought she killed him." "Besides, I could never let it get out that I'VE had sex with Jughead. I'm a GOOD girl," she thought with a smug expression. "Okay, now that that's settled," Archie said, "Let's all get out there and try to find Jughead!" "Okay!," said Betty. "Whatever you say, Archiekins," Veronica purred, clinging to his arm. And with that, Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews began an entirely new phase of their life-long friendship. Part 5: REGGIE The three of them left the Lodge mansion and headed towards the Chocklit Shop. Veronica walked in the middle, clinging to Archie fiercely, while at the same time keeping Betty well away from her man. Ronnie knew you couldn't trust the little blonde bitch. Betty would do anything to get her hands on Archie. Poor, desperate little thing. She hugged her Archiekins tighter. As they neared the center of town, flyers began to catch their eyes. From light poles, from shop windows, from phone booths, the smiling face of Jughead Jones stared back at them, beneath the word "Missing". Moose had been busy. "That should help," Archie said. "I hope so," said Betty. "Don't worry, Archiekins," said Ronnie, looking slightly sad, "I'm sure that, wherever Juggie is, he's still your friend, and always will be." Archie stared at her curiously, but said nothing. Betty rolled her eyes. Ron was acting more spacey than usual today. They moved on the Chocklit Shop and took a booth near the door. Betty ordered three sodas and they sipped in silence, Archie too worried about his friend to talk, Ronnie too much in love to speak, and Betty, disgusted with the whole thing. Just as Betty was draining the last of her strawberry float, Reggie Mantle entered, acting, as usual, as if this were his fan club headquarters. "Hiya, carrot top," he grinned, plopping down beside Betty. "Lookin' good, Bets," he said, squeezing her thigh. She blushed, and then looked away. "Ron," he said, giving her his brightest smile, "What are you doing with these losers? Why don't you join me at the country club? We could take my new BMW?" Ron looked at him, no interest showing on her face. Even the mention of the BMW had done nothing for her. Nothing could compete with her Archiekins. "No, thanks, Reggie," she said. "I'd rather stay right here." She cuddled closer to Archie, her hand slipping between his legs, finding the erect rod she expected. Reggie looked slightly confused, but immediately recovered. "Okay," he continued, "How about these?" He whipped out a pair of tickets from his back pocket. "Smashing Pumpkin tickets! 3rd row, center!" Betty's eyes bulged. Even Archie raised his eyebrows. These were impossible to get. And Veronica Lodge LOVED Smashing Pumpkins. They all turned to look at her. She thought for a moment. She knew she loved Smashing Pumpkins. She had all their discs, went to all their concerts. She was wild about them. The very mention of their name was equal to a two-cup caffeine buzz to her. Yet, when she thought about going without Archiekins... She just didn't WANT to. Not without her Archie. "Thanks," she smiled, "But I think I'll just stay home with my Archiekins." She grinned wickedly at Archie and ran her hand quickly up and down his shaft. Reggie looked stunned. The tickets dropped from his limp hand onto the table. Betty swooped them up, and then ground her hip against Reggie's thigh. "How 'bout me?" she said, blue eyes dancing. "Uh... yeah, okay," Reggie muttered. Irked at all this disinterest, Betty reached down and began stroking Reggie's crotch. His eyes turned from Ron and began to show definite interest in the little blonde before him. "Actually," he continued, "that sounds like a GREAT idea. I think we'll have a great time." "I like having a great time," Betty whispered huskily. "I really like having a great BIG time. How 'bout it. Reg? Can you show me a great BIG ol' time? Hmmm?" "Oh, yeah," he gasped, breathing hard. "Big, BIG time. Really big." Ronnie giggled and Reggie flushed despite himself. Betty removed her hand and his concentration seemed to improve. He turned his attention to Archie in an attempt to reduce the swelling in his pants. "So, Arch," he began, gesturing at the flyers outside the window, "What's happening with the 'Great Garbage Disposal Hunt'?" "No luck so far," Archie said. "It's like he just vanished between one step and the next." "Too bad," shrugged Reg, reaching over and swiping the last stick of gum from Archie's pocket. "Hey," said Arch, "Ever heard of asking?" "Sure," smirked Reggie, chewing loudly. "You shithead," said Archie, though without much enthusiasm. With his pal missing, even an argument with Reggie seemed to lose its luster. Reggie sensed this and, in what for him passed for friendship, tried to rile Arch up, hoping that a good fight might pick up his spirits. "Oh, well," he said, "it's not like it's anybody IMPORTANT. Unless you own a restaurant." "What?" said Archie, turning red. "The person I feel sorry for is poor ol' Pop Tate," Reggie continued, "He's gonna lose a lot of business with Needlenose gone. Poor guy." "Reggie Mantle, you are an absolute ASSHOLE," Archie said, rising to his feet. "My pal, the best friend anybody ever had, is missing and you don't even