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"Do you mind if..." Roy Dane bit his lower lip. The skinny teenager was trying vainly to get the attention of the Music Mart manager. In the throng of people jammed at the front counter, the boy was being too meek. He was going to have to suck it up and be a bit more bold. Roy took a deep breath and mustered up his courage. "Could I, like, put this flyer up on your bulletin board?" The redhead was practically shouting. The air stood excruciatingly still for a brief moment. People turned to gaze inquisitively at the young man. Roy felt his face flush red. "Let me see what ya got," the bald manager said with a serious look on his face. "It's just a flyer. I'm trying to, like, start a band," the pale youth said sheepishly. The manager leaned his tall frame down to get a look at the flyer in the much smaller guy's hands. He quickly surmised that it was just another post of a teenager looking for other musicians. In this case, a drummer and a bassist. "Sure, not a problem," the manager nodded. "The bulletin board's in the back. You know where it is?" "Yes. I looked at it last week. I know where it is." The redhead started towards the back of the store for a step. Then turned. "Thank you." His voice was lost in the din of customers. Roy got the feeling the manager really wasn't used to being thanked. Or, he just didn't care. Roy walked past the displays of guitars and effects pedals, past the bass rigs and into the section of Music Mart by the bathrooms. A large bulletin board was arrayed with flyers that had been posted by musicians looking for other musicians. Roy's vivid green eyes scanned the flyers to see if there was anyone who might by sympathetic with his particular musical vision. The ghostly pale redhead didn't see anything that really grabbed his attention. Some flyers even sounded like jokes. There was one guy who was trying to form a band based on the music of Three Days Grace, Three Doors Down, and Three Dog Night. The flyer boldly stated that the band would be called Ultimate Trifecta. Someone was also trying to fill the world's void for an Ugly Kid Joe tribute band. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Roy quickly made a spot on the board about average eye-level and tacked his flyer up. It looked pretty good, if he did say so himself. He had printed it on parchment style paper in an Old West looking font. It looked like a WANTED poster. Roy had even used a cigarette lighter to burn the outside edges of the paper to give it an aged, worn look. Surely, it would get someone's attention. There had to be a couple of guys his age who liked old school punk, Pixies, and Rage Against The Machine. Satisfied and hopeful, Roy headed back into the noisy showroom. A long, tan figure seated in front of the bass rigs immediately captured his attention. The blonde guy was about Roy's age and tall. His rangy legs were sprawled out in front of him as he sat upon a Music Mart stool. In his lap was a white Fender Jazz bass with a tortoise shell pick guard and rosewood fingerboard. It was a sexy ass fucking bass. The kid had good taste. Roy meandered around the bass rigs and pretended to be checking them out. In fact, he was trying to get a taste of the guy's playing- on the sly. Roy felt like a musical ninja. A pretty, but slightly overweight, brunette was plopped down on another stool 'dangerously close' to the bassist. She was acting quite proprietary towards him. Roy figured that it must be his girlfriend. The blonde guy plugged the Jazz bass into a Gallien-Krueger rig, powered up, and began twisting the knobs. Finding his sweet spot, the lanky youth tossed back his mop-like mane of gold hair and launched into a bottom end assault. The furious slapping and popping would have made Larry Graham or Bootsy Collins proud. "Where has this guy been all my life," Roy wondered. A small crowd began to build around the bassist as his playing switched form funk to a more mellow Jaco Pastorius groove. Obviously, Roy was not the only one impressed. "He's too freakin' good to be playing with me," the redhead lamented. He shook his head and was soon outside in the parking lot. He rolled down the car windows in his beat up, primer gray Olds Cutlass and let the hot summer breeze wrap around him. As he drove away, hope again became his paramount emotion. "Somebody'll see that flyer," he thought. Encouraged, he headed into the fading orange sunset. ------------------------------ The next afternoon, Roy sat barefoot in the floor of his family's modest bungalow. The windows of the living room were open to the warm air. The sun was on the other side of the house, giving the scene a soft glow. To the pale youth, this was close to Heaven. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt and well worn blue jeans. Behind him were the mountainous stacks of his Dad's vinyl record collection. Roy's dad, Lester, had an encyclopedic knowledge of music and owned the wax to show for it. The LP and 45's collection filled bookcases along the living room walls and spilled into stacks upon the floor. A JVC turntable, which had been state-of-the-art long before Roy was born, was the centerpiece of a stereo component system next to the unused fireplace. For a teenager who loved music, this was the place to be. Today, 'Cisco Kid' by WAR swaggered muscularly from the speakers like a prowling panther. Roy swayed and twisted his body to the music, lost in a ghetto world from back in '72. Or at least, as close as a skinny white kid could imagine. Music had always been connected to sex and spirituality for Roy. As the funk swirled all around him, he ran his hands over his body. The hot breeze, the soft light, the redhead breathed deeply in sensual bliss. He contemplated masturbating. The ringing telephone in the kitchen was a nuisance. He tried to ignore it. But, it was messing up his groove. A small lever on the turntable lifted the needle from the record. Disgusted, Roy trod barefoot across the rug onto the wood flooring. The kitchen phone was still ringing when he got there. "Hello," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "Yeah, hey, man, I was, like, tying to get a hold of this dude, Roy, about this flyer he put up at the Music Mart. Said he was lookin' for a bassist." The voice on the other end of the phone spoke a form of English. Musicianspeak. "Yeah, I'm Roy." "Oh, hey, cool," the accent was pure hippy-trippy, sounding not unlike Roy's father. "Man, I been playin' bass for a few years, dude, but I'm only nineteen. I'm really pretty good." "Oh, yeah. Cool. I'm nineteen, too. Um, do you have your own equipment and stuff?" "Yeah, dude, actually, I, like, just bought a bass yesterday, and shit, man. A Fender American Jazz, dude. I'm pretty stoked about it." "You just bought it yesterday? Like yesterday afternoon?" "Yeah, man, it's all cool and shit. I can't put the fucker down and shit, man." "Is it white with a tortoise shell pick guard?" "Dude, yeah, man, it is! Dude! How did you know that shit man. You're like fuckin' Nostradamus or something, man." "No, I think I saw you in there yesterday. You were with your girlfriend. She's got dark hair. And you were playing through a Gallien-Krueger head." "Oh, yeah. Man, that was me. Dude, you were like trippin' me out and shit. I didn't even know what to think about that shit, man." The two youngsters shared a laugh. Roy didn't know about this kids brain, but he seemed alright. Roy immediately liked him. And, the guy definitely had mad skills on the bass. "You're really fuckin' good. I mean, I've never heard anybody play like that around here," Roy gushed. "Hey, I appreciate it, man. It's what I want to do with my life, you know. It's my passion," the bassist responded. "I feel you. What's your name, by the way." "Oh, I'm Lorne, dude. Lorne Sweet. It sounds like somethin' you put in your coffee, I know. But, it's my name." "Oh, no. It's cool. I've never met anybody named 'Lorne' before." "Yeah, it's pretty different. Chicks dig it cuz it's 'unusual' or some shit. So, yeah, I dig it." The two went on to discuss music and the different ideas they had. They seemed to connect on a lot of levels. Lorne was a big Rage Against The Machine fan. Even though he thought the whole rock-rap thing was so "2001." Eventually, the boys decided to meet up the next afternoon in Lorne's basement. Lorne explained that he had a friend with his drum kit set up there and that the 'dude' was 'pretty good.' Roy wondered just exactly what that meant. If Lorne thought of himself as 'pretty good' this kid might be the next John Bonham! When Roy hung up the phone, he, too, could not have been more 'stoked.' He marveled at his luck. "Holy fuckin' shit, man! Holy fuckin' shit!" ------------------------------ "Seriously. Is that your car? Tell me something... When the hamster gets worn out running around the little wheel that makes the engine go, do you keep a spare one in the trunk and just throw him in? Seriously. I'm just kidding, guy. But, do you have a time machine so you can go back and get parts for it. Seriously, though. It's a nice car. Sweet paint job. Seriously." "Man, dude, stop being such a dick!" Lorne protested his percussionist friend's behavior. "Roy, dude, just punch that fucker in the mouth. About once a month, man, I gotta kick the shit outta that little fucker to get him to shut up. But, he always forgets it. And, I gotta do it again. Just punch him." "Just punch him," the drummer mocked in a whiny girly voice. The short boy turned to Roy. Atop his head was a mop of dark hair under a backwards baseball cap. "I'm just busting your balls, guy. I'm Sean. Sean Robinson. But, everybody calls me Pokey. That really is kind of a sweet Olds." Pokey stuck out his hand. Roy shook it and introduced himself. "Pokey's a little private school bitch. That fucker doesn't get caught doing anything," Lorne groaned. "So, is your gear in the trunk?" "Yeah." "Well, let's grab it, dude." The three boys extracted Roy's gear from the trunk of the Cutlass. It wasn't hard to tell that Roy and Pokey's worlds existed in different tax brackets. Parked behind Pokey's red BMW, the beat up Oldsmobile did look like a piece of junk. But, it was Roy's piece of junk and he loved it, anyway. Roy grabbed the tweed case that housed his vintage, black Fender Mustang with a white pick guard. Lorne lifted the Fender Frontman 2x12 amp. And, Pokey carried the cardboard box containing Roy's effects pedals. Lorne's home was a spacious suburban two-story. His mom had decorated it nicely. Lorne led them to the stairway leading down to the basement. As they walked down a long hallway, Roy noticed several pictures of a stunning blonde hung on the wall. The photos looked quite professional. "Who's this?" The redhead asked. "Oh, that's my sister, Katie," Lorne replied. "She's a model." "She's hot!" Pokey added, enthusiastically. "I'll shoot you for walkin' down the same side of the street, dude," Lorne barked. "Little perv." Behind Lorne's back, Pokey looked at Roy and grinned impishly. Roy remained impassive. At the bottom of a short staircase was the basement. Lorne sat the amp down and pointed out a power strip hooked up to a nearby outlet. Setting up his equipment, Roy looked around and surveyed his new surroundings. The walls of the basement were bare cinder block. Discarded exercise equipment sat against one wall of the large room. Pokey's drums sat opposite. He had a green Yamaha kit with three rack toms and a collection of Zildjian and Sabian cymbals. Lorne's bass rig was by the drum kit. The bassist had the same model Gallien-Krueger rig that he was playing through at Music Mart- only this head powered a full 8x10 speaker cabinet. His new Fender bass sat in a stand next to the amp. Pokey went directly behind his kit and started pounding out random, disjointed beats. He was joined by Lorne, who strapped on his bass and began hammering out riffs that started well, but then quickly went nowhere. The two teenagers were somewhat in sync. At least they were on the same page. "This is just some stuff we've been working on," Lorne yelled above the clatter. Roy listened as he connected his effects. Hell, he couldn't help but listen. Both these guys had outstanding chops. What really stood out to him, though, was that the riffs were meaningless. They rocked. That was certain. But, they never repeated. They just led to another riff that only led to another and then another... and on and on. It would have to be up to Roy to organize the sonic chaos into some structure that made sense- into an actual song. The dynamic duo stopped pounding away long enough for Roy to tune his guitar to Lorne's bass. Well, stopped in a way- Pokey continued to disrupt the silence with a thwack or rat-a-tat-tat. It was an annoying habit. Finally tuned, Roy offered a suggestion. "Give me that first riff you did. The one that had kind of a Flyleaf feel to it." "You mean this one?" Lorne began to pump it out. "Yeeeeah, that's the one," the redheaded guitarist drawled. "Keep that up." Pokey joined in on the toms. The combination was quite sinister. Roy had kicked off his shoes. His bare foot tapped his Arbiter Fuzz Face to life. His guitar exploded into the riff with a roar. Pokey tore at the cymbals. Lorne greatly widened his stance and threw his head back and forth in time. This music was sinewy. This was powerful. "Alright, bring it down now," Roy shouted. The others dropped their intensity as the distorted guitar fell silent. "Yeah! I like it!" Roy approved. He kicked on his Electro-Harmonix Small Stone chorus and began swirling shimmering chords around the main riff. "Dude! That is fuckin' awesome!" Lorne yelled with gusto. The trio continued the pattern of soft/hard/soft/hard until the skeletal outline of a song began to take shape. After about fifteen minutes of primordial jamming. They slammed to a halt. "That is the fuckin' SHIT, DUDE!" Lorne was beside himself with excitement. Roy was breathing hard and trembling. "I'm fuckin' shaking! Look at me! I'm shaking!" "Gentlemen, we are onto something," Pokey stood up from his drum throne. "My fuckin' arm hairs are standing up. I'm serious. I have goose bumps. That was BEYOND good. BEYOND!" Lorne could not hold back his admiration for Roy. "Dude, that shit has never sounded so good, man. You are the shit! We've been sayin' all along, man, that all we need is that third, man. That third. And, you are it, man! You are the glue, dude. The glue that holds it all together. The fuckin' GLUE!" ------------------------------ Two days later the boys were back in Lorne's basement hammering out what had now become the core of the song 'Worldshaker.' Roy stepped up to a mic stand and started belting improvised lyrics over the verse riff into a Shure SM58 microphone. Previously, Lorne had the mic just kicking around in his bedroom. Now, it was being put to good use. As the boys played, Lorne's girlfriend, Ashley, sat in a lawn chair bobbing her head to the groove. A satisfied smile stretched across her chubby face. Approval flashed in her dark brown eyes. The newly formed band slammed to a halt and began their usual salvo of 'fuck' and 'shit' as they complimented their own effort. Ashley joined the choir of praise. "That was really good," the pudgy brunette gushed. "You guys ROCK!" Roy wiped the light glaze of sweat from his brow. He soaked up the compliment but said nothing. A slight smile formed on his lips. They were good. And, he knew it. "Let's take five, fellas. I gotta drain my lizard," Lorne said. "Yeah, that's a good idea," Roy agreed. He laughed. "I'm working up a sweat, here." The redhead grabbed a bottled water off of his amp and sprawled out on the basement floor. His sleeveless black 'Ramones' t-shirt was damp with perspiration. He wore black 'Chucks' Converse low-top tenny shoes with no socks and tattered cut off denim shorts that came to his knee. He tucked one foot under his thigh. Pokey sat behind the drum kit checking the text messages on his cell phone. Ashley had a naturally outgoing personality and little, if any, trepidation. She basically said whatever was on her mind. "You have got the prettiest green eyes," the pudgy girl commented looking at Roy. "I don't think I've ever seen eyes that bright green before." "Oh, yeah. Thanks," Roy replied. Both my parents have green eyes. I think I came out having extra green or something." "Well, it works for you," Ashley said. "So, do you have a girlfriend?" "Nah. No girlfriend," the redhead answered, somewhat embarrassed. "That'll change after you start playing places," the girl surmised. "So, how long have you and Lorne been going out," Roy said in hopes of changing the focus of the conversation off the null set which was his love life. "Eighteen months," Ashley answered with no hesitation. It always amazed Roy how girls knew exactly how long a relationship had lasted. He bet that Ashley had the whole thing timed down to the minute. "We went to the same high school," she continued. "We hung out with all the same people and one night it just happened." "I see," Roy nodded. He did not want her to elaborate on what 'just happened' meant. That seemed to go without saying. Lorne came back quickly and unfolded another lawn chair and sat down next to his girl. Ashley immediately sucked onto the tall blonde like a leech and began to kiss his cheek. "C'mon. Lay off, will ya," Lorne said, obviously uncomfortable with the display. Ashley appeared undeterred and stopped kissing her beau but kept a good hold on him. She was draped on his arm and shoulder like a blanket. "What the heck is that statue in the corner," Roy asked as he pointed to the almost three foot high stone torso in the corner of the basement. The headless and armless form was cut off at the thighs. It was obviously supposed to represent a woman's body. The breasts stuck out dramatically and the hips and buttocks were quite exaggerated. "I didn't notice that last time we jammed." "Nah, that's some new thing my mom picked up," Lorne informed him. "It cost like two grand or some shit. So, my mom is hiding it down here from my dad until she can work on him some." "So she can fuck him until he won't get mad," Ashley cooed. "I don't want to think about it," Lorne looked squeamish. "I don't want to know." Roy had seen Lorne's mother earlier that afternoon. She was a strikingly tall and leggy blonde. Lorne's sister, Katie, came from good stock. Roy could understand how sex with her could deflect a man's anger. "Look at the tits on it!" Pokey laughed coming out from behind his kit. He clutched the ample stone bosoms in his hands and began groping them. "You little perv," Lorne barked. "Don't you fuckin' break that thing or it'll be your ass." "Yeah, and talk about asses!" The drummer shifted his hands to the buttocks of the statue. "Leave it alone, Ex Lax!" Lorne started to stand. Pokey instantly moved his hands form the stone statue and Lorne sat back down. "It's built just like me," Ashley said delightedly. The brunette shoved her own large bust forward to draw attention to the resemblance. Roy had to agree. The comparison was appropriate. With her prominent breasts and big round ass, Ashley's plump body and the statue had a remarkably similar figure. "That thing gives me the creeps, though, dude," Lorne said uncomfortably. "I wish she'd go ahead and put it somewhere else." "Well, I like it," Pokey smiled broadly, still ogling the voluptuous sculpture. Roy sensed that it was time to change the subject. "Have you guys thought about band names?" "Full Bleed," Pokey offered without hesitation. "That is just a wicked name. "I'd like to call it Severed," Lorne countered. "Or, Severed Heads. I don't know, something. I just like the word 'severed.'" Roy thought for a moment. He didn't like either of the ideas at all. He didn't see himself as being much of a severed and bleeding kind of guy. "Well, we can think about it for awhile," the redhead said offering no emotion. "I think it's important that we choose a name that fits us and that won't limit us to one type of music. And, I would like to have female fans, too. I don't know how many we'd have if they thought we were a death metal band." "What about Severed Angels," Lorne asked. "Chicks'd dig that, I bet." "I like it," Ashley nodded. She would have agreed with anything Lorne offered. "That's not bad," Roy lied. He still didn't like it. "We've got time to think about it before we do a show. Let's just try and pick something that we think will maximize our popularity and bring about the most success." "Yeah, I'll do anything to be a success. I want them dollar signs." Pokey began to wave his hands around as if he were holding money in a rap video. "Yeah, there's nothing I wouldn't to do make my living playing music," Lorne stated. "Agreed. I'll do anything it takes." Roy lifted his bottled water. "To our success." The other three teens lifted imaginary glasses. "To our success." As the three talked, a sugary sweet odor came to their nostrils. It began to overpower the room. "What is that smell," Ashley asked and looked all around. "What the fuck's coming out of that thing?" Lorne rose to his feet and sounded genuinely frightened. A look of bewilderment and fear showed in his eyes. Roy followed his gaze to the stone figure in the corner. Astoundingly, a bright pink smoke was pouring out of the feminine figure. Pokey jumped back in terror. Lorne started towards it but stopped short, engulfed by the pink cloud swirling around him. Coughing, he began to fan the air with his hands. The pink smoke filled the room and enveloped the four teens. Lorne and Pokey slumped to the concrete floor. Ashley lost consciousness seated in the lawn chair. Roy tried to crawl before he, too, succumbed to the overwhelming vapor. ------------------------------ Just how long they were out, none of them could guess. They awoke disoriented. Roy looked up to see Ashley's head lolling from side to side as she fought to regain her senses. "What the fuck is wrong with me!" Roy heard a girl's voice cry out in panic. "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!" Roy raised up and saw a tall young woman with a mane of golden locks cascading onto her slim shoulders. The girl had on a pair of extremely short cut-off jeans that showed off her long, tanned legs. Her light blue tank top was tight, though there was not a bust underneath to press it outwards. Her feet were bare and quite large, but they were tapered and pretty. Her big brown eyes were wide from fear as she looked down at her body. "Lorne?" Roy wondered aloud. What the fuck did just happen to his new found friend? Roy sat up. Her long red hair brushed her face. She felt the modest breasts on her chest shift. Her own pretty green eyes practically pooped out of her head as she looked down. Roy had tits! They weren't huge. But, they were definitely tits. And, she was wearing a bra. What the fuck? The white ink of her Ramones t-shirt had changed to pink- so had the black of her Chuck Taylor Converse. Roy was awestruck and panicked. She sat in the floor making squeaking sounds as she examined herself. Her shorts were still knee-length and tattered. But, the calves that proceeded from them were now completely hairless. Roy's fingernails were still short. But, they were now painted with fingernail polish and alternated from black to pink with each nail. "Aaaaaaaahhhh! Whhhhhoooooaaaaaa!" Pokey was trying to stand. The drummer was holding onto the railing of the stairs that led out of the basement. She was squealing and yelping as she struggled to remain on her feet. She was still wearing a yellow sleeveless t-shirt with tight black jeans and a pair of plaid 'Chucks.' But, her body had become extraordinarily scrawny. The petite brunette was only about five foot one and rail thin. She was not completely shapeless, however. Two conspicuous C cup breasts pressed outwards from her skinny ribcage. The mop of dark brown hair beneath her backwards, red baseball cap had not changed "I'm a chick!" Lorne screamed. "Ashley, help me! I'm a chick! How did this happen? How?" Ashley had fallen to her knees in the floor and was desperately crawling to her 'boyfriend.' She grabbed the tall blonde's shoulders but was at a loss as to how to provide any comfort. "I don't know, baby," she said. "I don't know. Maybe we're dreaming. Maybe we're fixing to wake up." "It was this thing!" Pokey pointed at the voluptuous torso in the corner. "That pink fog!" Roy was shocked by the high-pitched sound of her feminine voice. "What the fuck is that thing?" "Look what it's done to me! Look what it's done!" Pokey began to cackle maniacally like Dwight Frye's Renfield from the 1931 movie version of 'Dracula.' She backed against the wall next to the torso and started groping the fleshy bumps upon her transformed chest. Roy tried to clear her head. She took in deep gulps of air and tried to shake the confusion. There had to be an explanation for this. Although, at the present one seemed unfathomable. "The Picture of Dorian Gray," she yelped. Her confused mind had latched onto a possible answer. "What the hell?" Lorne squealed. "It's an old movie about a guy who made a wish in front of this Egyptian statue. The wish came true." "I didn't wish for this," Lorne yelped. Roy's mind groped for words. "No-no-no," she stammered. "But, what were we talking about before that thing started pumping out all that pink shit? What were we saying?" "You were all saying that you'd do anything to be successful," Ashley exclaimed. She sat holding Lorne while caressing the girl's delicate cheek. "That's right," the bassist remembered. "That fuckin' thing did this to us! I'm gonna fuckin' smash it!" The tall blonde shot to her feet and ran towards the stone torso. She started to clutch it by the thighs as if to lift the statue from the floor. The young bassist had barely made contact with the surface when she was suddenly thrown back on her ass. "That fuckin' thing shocked me!" She screamed. "I'm gonna kill it! Where's my fuckin' bat!" Lorne frantically looked around. Her large brown eyes spotted an aluminum baseball bat. The leggy girl seized it in a rush. "You're history, motherfucker!" Lorne took aim at the statue and drew back the bat for a downward strike. "Aaaaaaahhhhh-oooooooowwww!" She dropped the bat to the floor as her empty hands swung. "The fuckin' bat shocked me. The fuckin' bat!" Ashley and Roy sprang to their feet and positioned themselves between Lorne and the statue. Ashley clutched the girl's arm. Roy put her hands on Lorne's chest for a split second before she felt the bassist's small breasts enclosed by a brassiere. She drew her hands back in a flash as if she had been shocked, as well. "Easy, baby. Take it easy. We'll figure something out," Ashley tried to calm the enraged teenager. "Yeah, I don't think it's going to let you hurt it," Roy reasoned. "Look at them," Pokey exclaimed behind them. "Look at them!" The brown eyed brunette had lifted her shirt and bra and was bouncing her sizeable breasts all around. She was obviously enthralled by the sensations of her new mammary glands. "I got boobs! I got boobs! I like them!" The drummers tits were flopping about wildly. "I don't want to see 'em," Lorne protested. "Stop being a little perv!" Roy looked down her own breasts. The green eyed redhead fought the urge to lift her t-shirt and bounce them. She knew that must feel good. "We've got to think about this," Roy tried to be pragmatic. "Let's all chill out for a minute and try to look at what's going on." "Sit down, baby," Ashley pulled Lorne to the lawn chairs. "Let's try to figure it out." Pokey continued to bounce and fondle her chest ornaments. It didn't appear she would have much to offer the discussion. Roy sat back down on the floor and took a swig of water. She took a deep breath before starting. "Alright, we're chicks. There's no doubt about that." "No fuckin' doubt," Lorne said sharply. "What time does your mom get home?" "About five thirty," Lorne answered. "What time is it now?" Ashley retrieved her cell phone. "Four ten." "That's over an hour," Roy sighed. "Okay, let's just ride this out until your mom gets home." "What can she do?" Lorne whined. "I don't know. She's an adult. Or a grown up. I don't know. She bought the thing, maybe she knows something about it that can help us." "I can't stay like this for an hour," Lorne moaned. "This is horrible!" "It's not that bad," Ashley shot back defensively. "Not for you. You were born this way. Ah, listen to me. This way. I'm gonna go nuts!" "Well, I'm hungry," Pokey declared pulling her top and bra back down. "I don't know about you guys but I'm going to Burger King." "You're what! You can't go out like that!" Lorne was mortified. "Why not? She goes out 'like that' all the time." Pokey pointed at Ashley. "It doesn't kill her." "Burger King does sound good," Ashley cooed. "Take me to Burger King." The plump brunette snuggled up to Lorne and nuzzled the blonde's neck. "I think you two are taking this all a little too well," the bassist protested. "I'm not going anywhere!" Roy's stomach was beginning to growl. The redheaded guitarist had not had anything to eat all day. Although, she had had plenty to drink. Roy came to the horrifying realization that she needed to pee. "Maybe you can bring us something back," Roy suggested. "Oh, no! If you want Burger King, you're going to have to go with me," Pokey smiled impishly. "Fuck it. Fuck it all to Hell." Lorne rose to her full height of almost six feet. "I aint scared. Let's fuckin' go to Burger King. To Hell with 'em all." Roy stood up and spoke. "I, uh, I have to use the bathroom." "Oh, shit," Lorne said in a soft voice. The bassist was also horrified at the prospect of having to urinate with female genitalia. She swallowed hard. "I'll show you where it is." The four young women climbed the stairs out of the basement. Lorne led them down the hallway that went into the kitchen. As they walked, she noticed something different about the photographs hanging on the wall. "Fuck. Look at these pictures," she whispered. "I'm a chick in every one of them." The teenagers stood and look at the framed photographs. Indeed in every one that contained Lorne, the once male image had been transformed into a female. Family photos showed the smiling faces of Mom, Dad, and their two daughters- not a son and a daughter. One Halloween pic showed Katie dressed as a fairy princess and right there by her side was her younger sibling. Only the cowboy costume that Lorne had worn that year was now a cowgirl costume- complete with a fringed skirt and a pink bandana. Lorne's long curly hair was pulled back behind her ears. "This could be worse than I thought," the bassist groaned. ------------------------------ "You don't notice anything different about me? Anything at all?" Roy Dane stood in the middle of her kitchen imploring her parents to remember that she had once been male. "Well, honey. Hmm. No, I'm not seeing it. Not seeing it at all." Lester Dane shook his head. "Am I missing something, Carolyn?" "No," his wife said squinting her eyes. "You going to have to help us, sweetie, what are we looking for." "The name Roy doesn't mean anything to you? Roy Dane?" "That's your grandfather's name, princess. You know that." Her father was confused. "You didn't name ME that? That's not MY name?" Roy pleaded. "Roy's a boy's name, sweetheart," Lester stated. "Your name is Roxy. Roxy Dane." "Oh heavens, Lester! I think she's on drugs!" Carolyn stood from the small kitchen table and grabbed her daughter's shoulders. "Oh, honey, we'll get you some help. We'll do whatever it takes." "Mom! I'm not on drugs!" On the way to Burger King earlier that afternoon, the teenager discovered that her driver's license had been completely modified to reflect her new gender. Her birth date and address were the same, but her height and weight were lowered to match her new feminine stature. Her photo I.D. now bore her female face. But, what had been the most disturbing was the alteration of her name. Roy Lee Dane had become Roxy Lee Dane. It was as if his old self had never existed! "I'm not on drugs," I just think I'm starting my period," the guitarist groaned and clutched her abdomen. "Oh, honey, why don't you go lie down." Carolyn's face was now a mask of sympathy. Lester rapidly forced his attention on the newspaper in his hands. "Yeah, I think I'll do that," the teenager said softly. "I think I need to lie down." As the girl walked to her bedroom, she came to a realization. You could get out of just about anything if you played the 'period' card. She was surprised at how quickly it came to her lips. She hadn't even had a period, yet. Yet. The thought struck her like a blow to the gut. If something didn't happen soon, menstruation was a part of womanhood she would inevitably have to deal with. Quietly, the pale teen opened the closet in the middle of the hallway. She grabbed the photo album that contained her baby pictures and plucked it from a shelf. She went into her bedroom and breathed deeply. Looking around, even her room had changed. Sure, there were the same posters of her favorite bands on the walls. But, there was a makeup table in the corner. A large, white stuffed bear that looked ancient and worn lay on the violet bedspread next to pink pillows. Big metallic pink and purple balloons that were deflating hung limply tied to the corner of her footboard. A glittery poster that proclaimed the words 'Girl Power' was on the wall over her headboard. "Oh, great," she sighed. She plopped down on the bed and took a deep breath. Steadying herself, she opened the photo album. It was just as she suspected. Every picture of Roy had been somehow transformed into a picture of Roxy. All the school pics, all the vacations, all of them. It was exactly the same as what had taken place with Lorne. "That is one powerful little statue," she sighed. "What am I going to do?" The teenager fell backwards and lay upon her bed. In seconds, she had passed out from the exhaustion and anxiety of the day's events. When she awoke, she looked at the glowing numerals on the bedside clock. Two hours had passed. The sky outside had grown black. She could hear the faint sound of Fleetwood Mac's Tusk LP coming from the living room. It was one of her mom's favorites. Slowly, she sat upright. The weight on her chest shifted again. In the bathroom of Lorne Sweet's house, the redhead had lifted her shirt and bra long enough to get a good look at her B cup breasts. If Roy had seen them on a girl, he would have been impressed, even turned on. They were well shaped- kind of like fat bananas. They looked just huge to her. Though in reality, she knew they weren't. The nipples and areolas on them were a vivid shade of pink and quite prominent. They were the kind of puffy nipples that guys just loved to suck. When she had urinated with her vagina for the first time, she was uneasy to say the least. It was actually a relief to her that the function was pretty much the same as when she was a guy. The fact the she was seated did make her feel emasculated. And to look down and see a hole where her dick and balls used to be had caused her tremendous distress. She had performed the process of wiping her pussy lips free of urine as if she was afraid to touch them. Now, she had to pee again. She went to the bathroom. This time the act did not cause her near as much stress. She wiped and flushed without a problem. Alone in her room once again, curiosity finally overtook the former male. Just what exactly was this new body of hers all about? She shut the bedroom door and clicked on a girly lamp upon the nightstand. There was a full length mirror hanging on the back of her door. The redhead examined herself at length for the first time. Her girl face didn't look drastically different from her boy face. She actually looked like the female twin of her former male self. Something inside her was pleased that she made such an attractive girl. Her long hair was bright orange like a carrot. The glossy locks shimmered even in the soft lamplight. Her hair was perfectly straight and fell well past her shoulders, framing her cute face. She had nice lips without being super full. Her green eyes were still remarkably vivid. Although, somehow, they looked a little larger on her now. Her face was a bit rounder and softer. Her jaw line was definitely not as strong or square as it had been. Her cheeks seemed plumper and were not near as hard, either. Her nose was smaller and more delicate. It was like a Barbie doll nose with a little upwards turn at the end. A smattering of freckles lay across the bridge and spilled onto her cheeks. She had become quite pretty. The girl sighed. The moment of truth had arrived. It seemed unavoidable since the beginning of this bizarre experience. She grasped the hem of her Ramones shirt and lifted the garment up and over her head. She had a little difficulty extracting her long hair from the neck hole. It made her feel a bit dumb. She should have been a little more thoughtful or that wouldn't have happened. She tossed her shirt onto the bed. With a little knot welling up in her stomach, the redhead reached behind her back and undid the clasp of a bra that she had never actually put on. Instinctively, she hunched her shoulders forwards and removed the straps from her slight shoulders. Doing so caused her plump breasts to fall out of the cups that had housed them. She stood in front of the full-length mirror topless for the first time. Her breasts did look like fat bananas. They had an upwards turn just like her nose. The big pink areolas stood out from her breasts like separate mounds. Her nipples stuck out like a nursing mother. She could not help but began bouncing on her heels, causing her new mammaries to boing around and jiggle on her chest. Boing, boing, boing. She began shaking them from side to side. It did feel good- better even than she had expected. She was thrilled. For the first time, a smile crossed the girl's lips. "My boobs!" She reached up and cupped them. Turning sideways, she lifted them and looked at her profile. "Wow, these ARE some nice ones!" The teen began to fondle them and pull on her big nipples. A line of electricity shot down to her new sex. In a flash, she unbuttoned her long denim shorts and jerked them to the ground. She stepped out of her light yellow bikini panties and stood butt naked staring at her reflection. Her paper white body was not ruebenesque like Ashley's. But, her hips were quite wide. In fact, she looked a bit bottom heavy in her opinion. Her new vulva looked fat, pink, and inviting. If she had still been a boy, she was certain that she would have had a hard on looking at it. Her dark orange pubic hair was shaved into a 'racing stripe.' No, out of control bush for her. She turned around and contorted to get a good look at her butt. Wow. It looked gigantic- way bigger than it had been. Gigantic was an overestimation. But, it was a substantial booty. The plumped up globes of her ass were broad and round and swelled dramatically. It was the kind of ass that made heads turn. The redhead felt an inexplicable pride in her new feminine backside. She smiled at the mirror. Her whole body was softer and fleshier. Her tummy had a slight pooch. Her thighs were full. Her little feet were gorgeous. Her toenails matched the pink and black of her fingernails. All in all, she was pretty damn hot! The teen felt a rush of happiness that surprised her. She continued groping her new boobs and lay back on the bed. Her right hand went down between her thighs and her middle finger found her new clit. A feeling of excitement washed over her unlike any she had ever felt. Her breath grew quick. For several minutes, she furiously squeezed her banana tits and fiddled her bean until the first female orgasm of her life exploded within her. Waves and waves of pleasure coursed through her body. Her breathing grew soft. She pulled the bedspread over her naked body. In seconds, Roxy had fallen back into a light slumber. ------------------------------ "I can't believe this shit," Lorna Sweet said sitting behind the steering wheel of her black Ford Mustang. "I didn't know anything like this was even possible." "Your parents didn't think anything was different. They kept calling you 'Lorna' like they'd been doing it your whole life. That was really weird. And, how all those pictures changed... I know this isn't what you want to hear, but I have a feeling there's no going back." Ashley sat in the passenger seat next to her 'boyfriend.' Or, at least, the person that had been her boyfriend. They were parked behind the old McKesson warehouse. They had the windows down and the sound of insects resonated in the early twilight. The river rolled past lazily in front of them just past a small dune. The air was warm with a light, hot breeze. "This is the worst thing ever," Lorna groaned. "I have to sit down to take a fuckin' piss!" "Oh, suck it up!" Ashley shook her head mockingly. "I've had to sit down to pee my whole life. You'll get used to it." "I don't wanna get used to it! I want my fuckin' dork back!" "I think you look hot," Ashley cooed and put her mouth in Lorna's ear. She breathed into it and bit the blonde's earlobe. "Why don't I help you get used to it a little faster?" "Smashley, don't. Cut it out. I'm too freaked out for..." Lorna's protests were weak. Ashley felt the tall bassist's body shudder and she licked her ear. Lorne had never been able to resist the sexually assertive brunette's 'attentions.' Why should Lorna be any different? "Those legs are sooooo long." Ashley began to caress Lorna's thighs. "You're one sexy bitch." Lorna offered no resistance when she felt Ashley's tongue shoot into her mouth. She melted when Ashley's left hand cupped her cheek as the brunette's right hand pawed at her vagina through her denim cut-offs. Ashley loved the feeling of kissing her lover's newly feminized face. Her cheeks were so smooth and touchable. Her lips were so soft and kissable. This was like a Katy Perry song! Ashley kissed down Lorna's neck and her hands found the hem of the tall blonde's tank top. She lifted the shirt over Lorna's miniscule tits and then popped the bra over them with a quick motion. Damn! Lorna was flat as a fritter, but her areolas were huge! They were easily as big as Ashley's and she wore a DD cup. Ashley's brown eyes grew wide at the sight. "Holy shit, mamacita!" Ashley laughed as she gripped the saucer-like areolas and began to titty twist them roughly. Lorna moaned softly. Her own brown eyes rolled back in her head. She began to writhe in her seat. "Come over here," Ashley instructed, laying the passenger seat all the way back. Lorna climbed over the center console and Ashley forced the girl onto her back. Ashley looked around and scanned for onlookers. There were none. She pulled Lorna's top off then reached around and deftly removed the girl's brassiere. Lorna lay topless and watched as Ashley unleashed her own massive hooters. The brunette tossed her top into the backseat and leaned forward to undo her bra. Her heavy breasts swung free. With unabashed glee, Ashley thrust her nipples into Lorna's. The blonde felt the big glands smoosh against her chest. Ashley proceeded to grind her breasts into Lorna's. "I like that," the brunette whispered. "Do you like it?" "Yes," Lorna breathed softly. Her eyes had closed. "I thought you would," Ashley said teasingly. She began to French kiss her lover again. When she knew Lorna had past the point of rescue, Ashley unbuttoned the bassist's cut-offs and slid them down those long, tapered thighs. Lorna was barefoot. Her feet were damn long. But, they were thin and sexy as shit. Ashley felt proud when the former male actually helped pull off her own pink and white panties. Ashley took position in the floorboard between Lorna's legs. The blonde had one foot in the driver's floorboard and one foot out the window- naked as the day HE was born. Although, the 'he' that lingered was vanishing by the second. Ashley paused and drank in the sight of the tall, tan blonde splayed out before her. Hot was the only way to describe the girl. Lorna's head was tossed back, her nipples and enormous areolas lay on her chest like fried eggs. The blonde's bald pussy was covered with the foamy glaze of excitement. Ashley knew her 'girlfriend' was turned on. That thought sent her over the edge. She had never been face first in another woman's vajayjay before. But, there is a first time for everything. And, this was it. There was no use in being a wuss about it. So, Ashley dove right in. She parted Lorna's inner lips and found the erect clitoris just inside. "Damn, it's popping out like a little finger. She must be beyond turned on!" Ashley started lapping at the stiff protrusion like a dog. She swirled her tongue around it. She licked it up and down and side to side. The brunette worked Lorna's love button like only another woman can. In seconds, the blonde's tan ass was bucking and coming up off the car seat. "You like it. You like being a girl." "Oh, Smashley don't stop. Don't stop." "Just a sec..." The brunette paused long enough to remove her lower garments. She knelt in the floorboard completely naked. Her big boobs and huge ass were out there to see for anyone who might happen by. She drove her face back into the wet hole and started licking again. Her right hand worked her own clit as she ministered to Lorna's with her mouth. The odor of Lorna's dank pussy was intoxicating. Ashley loved the smell. She felt Lorna's body stiffen. "Smashley! Oh, fuckin' shit!" Lorna's body jerked. Spasms gripped her vagina. Her legs stiffened. The feeling of her first female orgasm blew the tall bassist's mind and shattered the last remnant of her male psyche. Between her legs, Ashley experienced a first as well- her first orgasm with a face full of clam. ------------------------------ "I had six orgasms last night," Pokey Robinson exclaimed. Beneath her backwards ball cap, her blue eyes were heavily rimmed with dark makeup. "Six!" "Do we have to listen to this?" Lorna protested. She was donning her Fender bass and lifting her hair out from under the shoulder strap. "I didn't want to hear about your perverted guy shit and don't want to hear about your perverted chick shit." "You finger fucked yourself last night. Don't lie." Lorna remained silent. "I did," Roxy said, smiling wryly. "I couldn't help it. It's just right there! You know?" "Well, for your information, I didn't have to," Lorne said smugly. "I had someone to do that for me." "No, shit," Pokey marveled. "You and Smashley lezzed out last night, didn't you? You two lezzed the fuck out." Lorna smiled broadly. Her face was long and thin and her eyes big and brown. Her face was free of any makeup. But, two small earrings punctuated her lobes. A toe ring now rested upon the second toe of her left foot. She was barefoot once again and clad in a pair of Daisy Duke cut-offs. Her cardinal colored t-shirt was sleeveless and bore the single word STANFORD upon it in white ink. "So, you're a couple of fuckin' lezbos now," Pokey laughed. "Just what is the world coming to?" "Well, I'm glad you guys decided to go ahead and jam today," Roxy said flipping on the power to her amplifier. "I didn't know what was going to happen after yesterday." "Guys? Seriously. Do we look like a couple of 'guys' to you?" Pokey cupped her boobs and shoved them upwards. "Well, not exactly. Not at all, actually." Roxy giggled. "But, it's just a figure of speech." "Hey, this happened after we all said we'd do anything to be successful," Lorna said. "So, I think we can reasonably assume that this tuning into chicks thing is, like, a guarantee that the band is going to be successful." "Reasonably assume," Pokey repeated. "Seriously. Listen to the brain on this big bitch." "It's the Stanford shirt," Roxy joked. "Gotta be," Pokey agreed. "Gotta be the Stanford shirt. "Well, Miss Stanford... Are you ready to ROCK?" Roxy asked, putting on her game face and swaggering up to the mic with all the machisma she could muster. Lorna threw her long legs wide and leaned back. Her Fender Jazz was slung low. "Oh, yeah. Let's do the fuckin' thing." "'Killer Dreams.' Count us in, Poke." "One, two, three, FOUR!" The band erupted like a nuclear blast. ------------------------------ Two months later the three girls were standing onstage at 'The Dungeon' one of the more popular rock venues in town. They had landed their first gig opening for another young local act 'Buzzkill.' The room had about eighty fans standing at the foot of the stage. The band's parents were seated together at a table near the back of the room. "Man, look at me. I'm shakin'" Lorna held out her hand with her back turned towards the crowd. Roxy could see the bassist's long fingers trembling. The redhead was nervous as a cat herself. But, she could not let it show. She motioned for the others to lean into an impromptu huddle over Pokey's toms. "Hey, this is a practice. No different. We're going to do -up here- what we do everyday in the basement. Alright?" The redhead's voice was calm authoritative. It masked the butterflies swirling around in her stomach. "Alright. You ready?" Lorna nodded. "You ready." "Oh, yeah," Pokey answered. "Alright, girls. Fast and loose. Just like practice." She stepped up to the mic. "Hey, everybody. Thanks for coming out. We're The Pink Slits. And, um, this is our little dog and pony show. We hope you like it." She turned to her comrades-in-arms. "'Worldshaker.' Poke count us in." "One, two, three, FOUR." The nervousness turned to manic energy as the band tore into their opening riff. Not looking at the crowd, Lorna threw her long bare legs wide and tossed her golden mane around like a whirlwind. The blackened soles of her naked feet lifted and fell to the beat as she rocked out. Pokey kept her head down. The top of her red ball cap and the mop of dark hair underneath was all that was visible of her head. Her drumsticks were flashes as she pounded away on her kit. Decked out in her long shorts and pink Chucks, Roxy had on a sleeveless, bright green tee that had 'Sparky's Carwash' printed on the front in pink. Her face was heavily made up. Her sparkling green eyes were rimmed in thick black. Her mouth was painted a dark crimson. Her makeup looked sloppily applied. Heroin chic. With a muscular salvo blasting from her Fender Mustang and micced up 2x12, Roxy pursed her lips into a snarl and stalked up to the microphone. "You can try... But, you'll never know me. You can try... But, you'll never own me. I'm a worldshaker. You can't handle me. I'm a worldshaker. Baby, you can't compete." In forty-two minutes there were eighty new, young Pink Slit fans whooting and stomping- hungry for more. It was not a good first gig. It was a triumph. More like a conquering. The Pink Slits were now officially on the scene. In a big way. The band was euphoric. Kids swarmed the trio, patting them on the backs and lavishing praise on the young musicians. Ashley practically squeezed the breath out of Lorna from sheer exultation. Girls were coming up to Roxy and gushing. Guys were telling her that she was 'so hot.' The guitarist from Buzzkill threw his arms around Pokey and declared her the 'female Bonham.' They had to pull themselves away from the adoring mob to pack up their gear. The booking agent for The Dungeon was all about having the band back for a festival next month. He said they could have a gig 'anytime, anytime at all.' Lorna's parents said the money they had shelled out for equipment and lessons was 'money well spent.' They doted on their daughter. Lorna's sister Katie was truly stunning in person. She looked just like a younger version of their mom. Pokey's parents seemed indifferent and left without much fanfare. Roxy's dad was in a state of shock. "I had no idea. No idea. I came here expecting to tell you it'd be okay. You know. I expected to be supportive if you guys fell flat on your face. But, I just had no idea. No idea you'd be that good." Her mom was reserved in her praise. "Well, I didn't understand a lot of it. But, I could tell you all had worked very hard. It was very loud. But, you three certainly had a lot of energy." Roxy understood. Slam bang music wasn't her mom's deal. And, nothing was going to diminish the elation the redhead felt this night. She grabbed a bottled water from the bar that sat opposite the stage. The older, stoic employee tending bar leaned towards her. "I've seen 'em come and go, young lady. You're going to be big. You've got what Elvis had." "Thank you. I appreciate it." The man's hand shot out. "Bill Davis." She shook his hand. "Roxy Dane. Nice to meet you." "Can I get you to sign this for me?" The man held out a Dungeon up-and- coming gigs flyer that had The Pink Slits show listed among many others for that month. "Sure." Roxy took the black magic marker from him and signed her name in big letters across the flyer, just under the name of the band. "Thank you, Roxy." "You're welcome, Bill. My pleasure." Bill Davis held up the flyer as she walked off. "This'll be worth a lot of money someday." ------------------------------ The gigs got bigger. The crowds got bigger. The Pink Slits began headlining every bill they were on. The only thing that had not gotten bigger was the money. That was still practically nonexistent. Roxy got a part time job at the SONIC to save up for a Marshall half-stack amplifier. The job mostly sucked. But, she liked her boss, Marvin. He was a cool guy. Plus, he gave her time off without a hassle whenever she had a gig. The red Sonic shirt and black pants made her feel like a dork. She hated the visor and nametag. But, the roller skates were the worst. There was something about skating out to a car full of ogling guys that made the former boy feel completely emasculated. Roxy convinced herself it was 'paying dues' and that one day it would all be worth it. It was almost the end of a long shift one evening when she skated out an order to a white pickup truck. "Hey- Roxy," the young man said reading her nametag. He wore a navy ball cap and had longish, wavy black hair. His thick Southern accent told her that he was not from around these parts. He took his food from her. "My name's Glenn. What all y'all do for fun around here besides serve up hamburgers." "I wouldn't know," Roxy said, a little embarrassed. She shifted from one foot to the other upon her skates. "I mostly just play music." "Play music?" The boy's eyes twinkled blue. "You mean like on your iPod or what?" "No, I mean, I'm in a band," Roxy clarified. "A band? No shit," the young man said, surprised. He handed her a ten dollar bill for a six dollar order. "You, like, play in front of people and all that?" "Sure. Once or twice a month." "So, what do you do? Sing?" "I sing and play guitar." "What's the name of your band/" "The Pink Slits." "No shit? Well, alright. I might just might have to come and check y'all out sometime. Y'all got any shows coming up?" "This weekend. At a place called Pirate's Roost. It's a beer bar. But, I'm not twenty-one, yet." "Oh, well that's cool. I'm twenty-one. I'm sure they'll let me in, if they ain't too proud." Roxy smiled. The guy was cocky. But, he was sort of charming. She felt her cheeks flush red. She lowered her head to hide that fact and started to fumble for his change. She was obviously struggling. Her whole brain was discombobulated. "Why don't you just give me back a dollar and we'll call it even. I feel like showering money on a pretty girl tonight." Roxy felt relieved. She knew that she was coming across as a massive dork. She handed him one dollar. She liked that he found her pretty. It bothered her that she liked it. "Thank you," she said meekly as she handed him the bill. "I tell you what... Let me get your telephone number and you can give me directions to this here Pirate's Roof or whatever it is." "Pirate's Roost," Roxy laughed. "Pirate's Roost," the male repeated. "Pirate's Roost. Now, I've got to find out what the Hell that means..." Roxy's face was beaming red as she smiled at him, seated in his high pickup truck. "Now, lay them digits on me, sugar." The charming Southerner had scooped up an ink pen and was holding the Sonic receipt against his steering wheel. "555-9018.," Roxy said clearly. "555-9018," the young man repeated as he wrote. "Well, lookie here. I got your phone number." He held the receipt up for her to see. "Ain't I special." The blue-eyed male flashed a broad, confident smile. "I'll be sure to use this. You take care now. You hear?" "You too," Roxy said, demurely returning his smile. The girl's face was beet red. Her stomach was in knots. The wheels of her skates churned upon the pavement as she began to roll away. The truck roared to life. "Hey, Roxy," the guy called out after her. She wheeled around to face him. The toe stop on her right skate brought her to a halt. "What's my name?" "Glenn," she yelled above the engine. The name tasted good in her mouth. The young male had an ear-to-ear, shit-eating grin as he backed out of his space and sped off. Fifteen minutes later, Roxy clocked out and started walking to her Cutlass. Free at last. She wanted to take a shower and get to bed. Her little feet hurt from being on skates for so long. She took out her cell phone to call Lorna and make sure practice was on for Thursday. Before she could do that, a text message chimed in. It was from Glenn. "what time u get off work" "why do you want 2 know" "bored could use some company." "where r u" "uncle's house stayin here til I get a place of my own want 2 meet me at walmart ???" Roxy stared at her cell phone for a couple of seconds. Another message chimed in. "i wont bite" She didn't know why she was doing this. She had gotten kind of used to guys hitting on her the last couple of months. But, she wasn't interested in any of them, to say the least. After all, she wasn't really a girl. It did not matter what the mirror or her driver's license or anyone said. She'd play the game and wear the makeup and preen around like a rocker chick. But, it was all an act. She was still a male deep down. Even after having two menstrual periods, she was not going to just give in and forget who she really was- not like her bandmates had. Pokey jumped right in and embraced womanhood with gusto. She fucked somebody from almost every band they gigged with. Sometimes, she even did two at once. She had started calling their gigs 'Pokey's Fuck and Suck Tour.' It was nasty. She bragged about being the one in the band on birth control. Roxy figured she was getting back at her parents for a bad childhood. Turning her vagina into a urinal didn't seem like the way to go about doing it. Lorna and Ashley were committed to their now lesbian relationship. They couldn't get enough of each other. The two of them fucked like rabbits any chance they got. Ashley had bought a double-sided dildo so they could 'grind' as she liked to call it. Lorna resisted any thought of going back to being male. She got visibly anxious at the thought of it. She would get really defensive and try to dismiss the possibility by saying something like, It'll never happen. That's all in the past. Forget about that shit." Of all the personalities involved, Roxy would have thought Lorna would have been the longest hold out. But, that's not the way it went down. Score one for the guitar player. "what time u get off?" "off now" "cool meet me at walmart across from u" "when" "ill b there in five minutes" "ill b there in ten" "cool" Roxy shook her head. Why was she leading this guy on? She shouldn't be doing this. It wasn't fair to him. She'd tell him how to get to Pirate's Roost and then explain that she has a boyfriend and needs to get home. It was a lie. But, it would be better in the long run to just get rid of him. Maybe he would get the hint and not come to her gig. Thinking about all of it made her nervous. She sat in her Oldsmobile and looked in the rearview mirror at her hair. It was a mess. Her Sonic visor had left a big indention in her red locks where it pressed into her head. She looked awful. Why were there suddenly such dark circles underneath her eyes? Crap. She had to fix this. Roxy retrieved a hairbrush from her purse and leaned out the door of her Cutlass. She bent down and started vigorously brushing her long hair in lengthy strokes. After a long while, she sat upright. Her hair, refreshed, spilled onto her shoulders. She checked it out in the mirror. "Not great. But, it's better." She quickly went to work on her face. Concealer under her eyes. Powder all over. Why was she so pale? She brushed a small dash of rouge onto her cheeks. She applied a coat of lipstick and smacked her lips together. Ugh. She looked like Casper. Casper with lipstick. Was she the only girl in town without a tan? She had to get out in the sun more. Oh, well. Time to go over and get rid of the Southern bohunk. This will take five minutes. Tops. She pulled out of the Sonic and drove across the boulevard to the sprawling Wal-Mart parking lot. As she rounded the corner past the Taco Bell, the big white truck sitting at the top section of the parking lot was impossible to miss. Roxy pointed the nose of her Oldsmobile that direction. Glenn was seated upon his downed tailgate with one leg hanging and one leg bent at the knee so his foot rested on the tailgate with him. One arm was draped over his knee. The other lay across the side panel of his truck. He wore a tight brown t-shirt and crisp new denim jeans with black tenny shoes. He smiled broadly when he saw Roxy. He raised his hand and put two fingers to the brim of his cap and gave her a sly salute. She came to a stop sideways across the back of his truck. She left her engine running. Her driver's side window was open to him. "I'm glad you came," he drawled. "Won't they kick you out of here if you loiter?" "Nah. I know that ol'boy that drives the little security cart thing. He just drives by and waves at me." Roxy looked over and saw the yellow light flashing atop the small security vehicle making a sweep through the lot. "You get away with a lot, don't you?" "Everything I can," he flashed that cocky shit-eating grin again. He raised his palms upwards and gazed up at the black sky as he spoke. "I like being out here. Makes me feel like I'm king of the world. The lights are too bright to see many stars. I can name all the con