Mick and KeriChapter 15 Mick and Keri at the Karaoke Bar With Barb
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Conrad's Bar Of Spirits free porn video
Author's Introduction
I, like many of my other internet comrades, find something intriguing
about transformation stories, from SRU to Secret Salons. So when I picked
up a copy of Mr. Boston, All New Official Bartender's and Party Guide,
this is where my mind took me. This is my first real sojourn into
transformation fiction so I hope it's a good start. Here's to hopefully a
new outlet for transformation and tricksters.
Conrad's Bar of Spirits, a short introduction
By SaulSecond
Bill Thomas just wasn't a particularly nice guy. Sure he wasn't a Nazi or
anything but he just tended to rub people the wrong way. A little crude
and a little rude, he wasn't quite what you'd call a "people person." So
God knows why he kept his job at the DMV. After a particularly
aggravating day Bill was more irritable than usual. He packed himself
into his 1994 Chevy and headed into town. He could use a drink.
Along Coyote drive his tire blew out, to which Bill profusely swore and
swerved his pickup to the side of the road. He climbed out and looked at
the shredded tire.
"Goddamit."
"Troubles mister?"
Bill shot around to see a rather erudite looking man with a bar towel
over his shoulder and an apron around his waist. His healthy six-foot
frame was leaning against a streetlamp just ten feet from where Bill
stood. Funny, thought Bill, he hadn't seen him there before. The handsome
man strolled over to the pickup and squatted in front of the busted tire.
"Hmm, that's going to take a while to fix."
"Goddamn sonofabitch. Perfect. Just perfect."
The man looked up at the now reddening man in the white collar shirt and
black tie. He wiped his hands on his apron as he straitened back up.
"You know, I think you could use a drink. Come on, one beer on the
house."
"What?" Bill asked, surprised.
"A beer."
"Huh? No fooling?"
"Oh not right now, come on in," the man gestured as he crossed to an old
wooden door.
Bill blinked. The man was holding a door open to what was obviously a
bar. A large etched glass window in front read: Conrad's. Bill could have
sworn that the place wasn't there before...
"Coming?" the man said.
Bill shook his head, and that thirst for alcohol propelled him through
the door. His eyes adjusted to the dimmer light and he took stock of the
place. There were a number of small tables, two billiards tables, and a
dart board. An old looking jukebox sat in a shadowy corner. Dominating
one side of the room was an impressive oaken-looking bar with what looked
like hundreds of bottles behind it, accompanied by the standard bar-room
mirror. The man launched himself quite effortlessly over the bar and
turned to the addled man standing before him.
"This place new?" Bill finally asked.
"Just opened, you're my first patron. Name's Conrad. Owner, operator,
manager, brewer and mixtologist." He put out his hand. Bill didn't move
his.
"You said something about a free beer?"
Conrad put on a cockeyed smile. "Yes I did. Coming right up."
"What'ya got?" Bill said, not seeing any labels on the beer taps.
"Oh I think you out to give my special homebrewed mix a try."
"Microbrew crap? No thanks."
The bartender sighed, "Just a taste? I have a guarantee that if you don't
like it you get two beers of your choice free."
Bill looked at him frowning, and then thought he'd might just lie and get
the two beers free anyway. "Alright."
Conrad slid a mug over. Bill took a sip.
"So, what do you think?"
"It's...pretty good," Bill replied, rather shocked at his honest answer.
In truth it was a decent brew, with a hint of sweetness.
"So what brings you to town?" Conrad asked, in a pleasant and gentle way
common to all bartenders.
Bill took another sip, "My goddamn manager. Always getting on my case."
"Oh?" Conrad asked innocently.
"Always harping on me. Saying that I should try and be more considerate.
What a bunch of crap. She doesn't have to deal with idiots all day. I've
been there ten years and not one promotion. Like it's my fault if they
didn't do their paperwork right or they're picture comes out lousy. Bunch
of cattle pen morons." Bill frowned. He wasn't usually this chatty when
he was drinking. Normally he would have told this Conrad guy to piss off
and mind his own business. But somehow he felt he had to tell him. He
looked down at his mug. It was already empty.
"Looks like I need another," he said as he lifted and shook the empty
container.
Conrad smiled, "You know I'm a master mixtologist?"
"Yeah?"
"I can tell just what drink a person needs at one particular moment. It's
a gift. And I know exactly what you need. It's a dark rum drink."
Bill looked at him doubtfully, "I don't know, I'd rather just have the
beer."
"You're my first customer, and I wouldn't be very good mixtologist if I
didn't know what would make people feel better. Trust me."
"Alright."
"Good," replied Conrad as he began pulling bottles from behind him. His
hands moved rapidly, in a hypnotic wave of dexterity. He concocted a
mixture and shook it with ice then strained it into a waiting cocktail
glass. He pushed it across the countertop. "There we are. Enjoy."
Bill eyed it, slightly twirling the glass between his fingers. He took a
sip. A warm surge flowed through his body and a tingly-numb sensation
followed soon after. He did feel better, better than he had in years. He
looked up dreamily into the bar mirror, and look puzzled at the
reflection. The mirror showed Bill, but it wasn't Bill. It showed a man
closer to twenty-five than the ageing forty year old he was. No, that
wasn't right. Bill shook his head again as the image seemed to blur. He
felt an odd weight on his ears and something rubbing on his shoulders. He
oddly felt as if the room seemed to be growing larger, and his feet
slipped away from the brass foot-bar he had them resting on. His clothes
suddenly felt funny, constricting in some places and loose in others. A
blonde strand of hair fluttered into his eyes as he looked down at his
chest. It was growing or maybe more specific it seemed to be inflating.
He brought his hands, now more slender and with well manicured nails to
the two protrusions, he gasped as he cupped the generous curves.
"Um...miss?"
Bill ...no that wasn't his - her - name... looked up still clutching her
bosom. She saw a very handsome bartender.
"Maybe you've had enough, and you really shouldn't um...do that in
public," he made a small gesture to his chest.
She looked down at her hands then quickly dropped them to her lap as her
cheeks became a cute shade of pinkish red.
"Oh my, I'm terribly sorry. Just one drink and I'm..."
"It's okay miss, I don't think anyone saw you."
She looked about at the empty room, looking a little disappointed. "I
guess not, though I was hoping for a few a cute guys at least. It's
pretty dead in here," she said, looking down at her glass.
"Well, we did just open and I don't particularly like advertising. Too
much spotlight can be a bad thing," Conrad replied.
"That's kind of odd for a bar," said the lady.
"This is an odd bar and I'm an odd owner," answered the barman.
She finished her drink at reached for her purse. "How much-"
"I told you miss, first customer's on the house."
She smiled and adjusted her knee-length skirt, and realigned her blue
scarf on her business blouse. "This really is a quaint little place. I
think I could come back here," she said.
"Thank you, and don't worry, this place is sure to pick up soon. Oh I
didn't catch your name."
"Jacqueline, Jacqueline Thomas."
"Correct."
"What?" she asked confused.
"Uh... never mind. Be sure to come back, ladies night's on Thursdays.
Live music."
"Sounds like fun," she smiled as she strutted out the door. Conrad's
seemed like a nice place. She'd just have to tell the girls about it when
she got to work tomorrow. Some people wondered why such a smart, pretty
and kind girl would ever want to work at the DMV, but anyone who had to
wait in line and found her at the counter sure felt she made the
bureaucratic nightmare just a little more pleasant. She was such a people
person after all.
Conrad gave a sigh of relief as Jacqueline walked to her new Mini Cooper
where a flat-tired beater Chevy used to be. That little slip up he said
could have been trouble; he really needs more practice at this. The
women's restroom door swung open.
"Did I hear you say something?" a young woman in another apron asked as
she crossed and sat down on one of the bar stools.
"Just missed out first customer."
"What! I missed it?" she said, distraught.
"Sorry Julie, but they'll be plenty more where that came from. This is
going to be a pretty good town I think."
"So what'd he have?" Julie said, resting her head on one hand.
"A Jacqueline. That was nice; I don't get to make many of those."
Jacqueline (According to Mister Boston, 2006):
1 oz Triple Sec
2 oz Dark Rum
1 oz Lime Juice
1 pinch of Superfine Sugar or Simple Syrup
Author's note: I don't expect to be writing many of these, but I would
love just to introduce an idea and have others take over. Just a couple
of rules if I may:
1. All stories must include a drink, preferably a cocktail, made by
master mixtologist Conrad, assisted now and again by Julie.
2. All stories are to contain magical elements that are induced from the
drink, or with other accoutrements of the bar, such as the dartboard,
pool table, jukebox, and etcetera.
3. The stories are just about anything goes, which can follow trickster
motifs, bad wishes, typical transformations, acts of good will and so on
and so on.
So I leave to you this new hangout of mystical mayhem. Enjoy and drink
slowly.
Appendix: A small list of possible mixtology mixtures for the bewitchment
blind bar-goers:
With Brandy:
Betsy Ross
Bosom Caresser
Brandy Cocktail
Brandy Collins
Anything with the name "Brandy" in it
Bulldog Cocktail
Bull's Milk
Golden Dawn
Lady Be Good
With Rum:
A Day at the Beach
Bahama Mama
Black Maria
Caribbean Romance
Cream Puff
Dingo
Jade
Little Princess Cocktail
With Gin:
Beauty Spot Cocktail
Bermuda Rose
Blue Bird
Bridal
Cabaret
Crystal Slipper Cocktail
Delilah
Dixie Cocktail
Flamingo Cocktail
Gin Daisy
Emely
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