SRU: The Roadhouse by Corvus corax (Raven)

Comma and Asterix looked at each other and sighed. Both of the deliverymen 
were hot, sweaty and very, very tired. On days like today, when it was 100 
degrees in the shade, with 90 % humidity, it didn't pay to be moving around 
large pieces of magical equipment.

Asterix continued to gaze over from the passenger seat of the SRU van to 
Comma, who was behind the wheel. He slumped down a little further into 
his seat.

"Man! I sure could use a beer!"

Comma nodded in agreement without looking back. "I hear that! No one 
should be out working in this type of heat. We should be out lounging in a 
pool with babes all around . . . ."

He swallowed his last thought. It definitely wasn't a great idea to mention 
ANYTHING about women around his boss. You never quite knew when 
something you say could be used against you. While the old man wasn't 
there with them, they were close enough. Just being in the SRU van, or 
around SRU things was treacherous in and of itself.

" . . . . scratch that," Comma corrected. "A beer is just fine at this point."

Asterix grinned. He knew EXACTLY what his partner was talking about.

He picked up the clipboard from the dashboard, and scanned the delivery list. 
There were red check marks beside each of the entries.

"According to my calculations, all of the deliveries are done. It's quittin' 
time. In other words, it's drinkin' time. Find the closest local watering hole."

Comma glanced into the rearview mirror so that he could see into the rear 
compartment. He knew from experience that his partner was prone to . . . 
exaggeration? It was always a good idea to get visual conformation of 
Asterix's spoken word. True to form, a rather distinctive and large piece of 
equipment met his eyes.

The driver frowned. "Better check again. There's a big ole' jukebox back 
there."

"No way," insisted Asterix, looking over his list once again.

Comma gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. "Check for yourself, Pal."

Asterix did. It wasn't one of those jukeboxes that fit on a table, but one of 
those newfangled, full sized machines that play CD's.

"Damn," blurted Asterix. He was justifiably frustrated that they had to make 
one more delivery. Nevertheless, the sooner they got it done, the sooner they 
could have that beer.

Asterix reviewed the days scheduled deliveries yet one more time. When he 
was done, he communicated the bad news to Comma.

"Uh oh!"

Comma positively didn't like the sound of that utterance.

"What now?" This time, Comma did look over to Asterix, who wore an 
expression of grave concern upon his face.

"There are no entries on here for the delivery of a CD jukebox. We shouldn't 
even have this in here. Something's not right."

"That's impossible. The old man specifically told us what stuff to load into 
the van this morning. I remember him telling us to load the jukebox."

Asterix searched his memories. 

"Me too!" he agreed. "What are we gonna' do?"

"I don't know, but the old man's going to be angry if we come back with it."

Now Asterix really panicked. He was not thrilled with the potential 
repercussions of this snafu. He pled with Comma.

"We have to think of something to do. I like women well enough, but I don't 
want to BE one. I don't wanna spend anytime as a bimbo!"

"Me neither, Pal," agreed Comma again, whole heartedly.

Asterix shifted his eyes from the clipboard in his hand to the road up ahead. 
Approximately 100 yards ahead, along the side of the road, he noticed a 
dilapidated old tavern. There was a gravel parking lot, that held only one 
vehicle . . . most likely the owner's. A sign read, "The Roadhouse."

An idea quickly formed in the deliveryman's brainpan.

"Pull in here," directed Asterix to Comma, as if he were the navigator. "I just 
had a brainstorm."

"You're not thinkin' . . . ." Comma began to say.

"Yup. We can kill two birds with one stone," beamed Asterix.

Despite misgivings about this plan, Comma didn't see any other alternative. 
He angled the SRU van into the gravel parking lot in a cloud of dust, and 
spray of stones.

**********

Approximately 50 miles in the opposite direction, Burt and Jack were 
returning from an impromptu fishing expedition. They lived and worked in a 
medium sized town named Bastion, and, in fact, were born and raised there. 
Burt and Jack were the best of friends from the first time they met in 
preschool. They remained that way through high school and thereafter.

The Roadhouse lay on the outskirts of the Bastion city limits.

On this particular day, Burt called Jack at approximately 3:30 am. He just 
split with his girlfriend of 2 years, Cindy Miller, in a fiery break up, and 
needed somebody to talk to. That's where Jack came in.

Jack was much better with the women, and, as such, was a treasure trove of 
useful information.

After mulling over the breakup, through every possible angle, Burt finally 
concluded, "You know what I need?"

"What?" responded a very weary and frustrated Jack. He thought the topic 
FINALLY dead and buried, only to have it arise anew, like some phoenix 
from the ashes.

"A real air headed bimbo, with really big boobs, who doesn't like to do 
anything but fuck and suck. Yeah. That's it. What I need is some real mental 
candy that I don't even have to think about."

That was the funniest thing that Jack had heard all day! He chuckled, adding 
his observation, "If you find one, ask if she has a friend. I think every guy 
could use one of those."

There was more. "Yeah. Except she would have to like the same things as I 
do, like fishin' and shootin' pool . . . you know. She'd have to talk like we 
can talk. That would be perfect."

Jack just rolled his eyes, mumbling, "I think I need a drink."

Burt flipped open they cooler that they had taken with them on the fishing 
trip. It was empty except for half melted ice, suspended in super cooled 
water.

"Nothin' in here!" Burt confirmed. He scanned the road up ahead of him. 
"Too bad there ain't a bar anywhere around here. I could use a cold one 
myself . . . maybe somethin to eat."

Jack hoped against hope that the subject of Burt's unfortunate 
romantic/sex/relationship life was now past them. If the price was a beer in an 
out of the way bar . . . well, it was a cost that he was willing to pay. The 
location of such a place flashed into his mind.

"Hey Burt? I think I know a place," mentioned the passenger.

"Really? Where?"

"Just a ways up the road. I think it's called The Roadhouse. You know? The 
place we used to drink when we were underage . . . in high school."

It all came back to Burt. "Oh yeah! I remember that place. I ain't been in there 
in years. I don't think anybody has. Are you sure it's still there?"

"Yup. I passed it the other day, and the sign said, open.' The place is just not 
as popular anymore. What do you say . . . for old times sake?"

"Sure," agreed Burt. "Do you remember the time that you, me, Sandra Ryan, 
and Melissa Silver went down there and . . . ."

Jack tried as hard as he could to tune out the rest. The only thing he could do 
was roll his eyes again, and think, here we go again.

**********

Andy Knight was genuinely a good guy. Exactly one year ago, to the day, he 
inherited the business establishment known as "The Roadhouse," from his 
uncle Harry.

Granted, it was an out of the way place, Bastion, Texas, but still it was an 
ongoing, viable business. Instead of going to college, as his parents wanted, 
Andy packed up all of his belongings and moved to Bastion to be a nightclub 
owner. He didn't really want to go to take business courses anyway. That 
was his parent' s dream . . . not his.

In Andy's opinion, there was no thing like the real thing. What need had he 
of books and theories and formulas on how a business should be run? There 
was no teacher like experience, so he just decided to leap into the deep end of 
the pool, feet first.

Andy was so thrilled with the prospect of being a famous "hot spot" owner 
that he didn't even hear his father warn, "Harry never was able to make a go 
of that place!"

What ambitious youngster would listen to the sage advice of an experienced 
adult? Quite right!

All Andy could do on the long drive to Bastion was imagine how we would 
turn the place into the next "Studio 54" or "Danceteria." He had such dreams.

To say that the reality of The Roadhouse didn't measure up to his vision 
would be a massive understatement.

And now, there in the late afternoon sun, Andy dusted off the bottles behind 
the long bar. That was all he seemed to do nowadays, and couldn't recall the 
last time that he'd had an actual customer. The seal of some of the liquor 
bottles behind the bar hadn't been broken.

Andy poured his entire life savings into the place, and now he was stuck. If it 
weren't for the bungalow out in the back, where he could stay rent free, he 
would have limped back home, with his tail between his legs, long ago.

He was trapped, and he knew it. Why, oh why, hadn't he listened to his 
father? He should be in school, maybe even a member of a fraternity, having 
the time of his life.

Andy looked up at the slowly revolving ceiling fan, trying to see all of the 
way to the heavens beyond.

"What I need is a miracle to turn this place around!" he whispered to 
whatever God would listen.

**********

To say that Andy was shocked when he saw two guys walking through the 
front door would have also been a massive understatement. Nevertheless, he 
squinted against the brilliant sun pouring through the door behind them, to 
make out there faces.

They were both young, very strong, and incredibly handsome guys. Not that 
Andy was into that kind of thing, but it was just that they weren't the type of 
men who hung around these parts. Except for their matching coveralls, 
indicating some style of manual labor, he would have sworn that they'd 
stepped from the pages of GQ, Playgirl, or some muscle building magazine.

"You open?" said the blonde one. The other, taller one, was much darker or 
Mediterranean looking.

Andy could never have guessed that their ultra masculine physiques were just 
one of the many side benefit for working for the old man as an SRU 
deliveryman. Those side benefits were quite useful for enforcing discipline 
within the ranks. Disobedience could have . . . disastrous consequences!

Andy guessed correctly, "You fella aren't from around here are you?"

Comma, the darker one, spoke this time, as both padded up to the bar. 
"You're pretty observant there, Bar keep . . . ."

Before Comma could continue, Andy advised, in a friendly tone of voice, 
"Call me Andy."

Comma continued, "Okay . . . Andy. My name is Comma, and this here's 
my partner, Asterix."

Strange names, thought Andy, but he didn't want to interrupt his only 
customer.

"Howdy," smiled Asterix, ass he attempted to get into a Texas state of mind.

They all exchanged greetings. Comma went on with his story. "We're just 
deliverymen passin' through. We saw your place, and thought we'd stop for 
a cold one or two. It's a hot one out there today!"

Comma mopped his brow just to illustrate the point.

Andy opened up the beer cooler so that he could comply with his customer's 
request. "Two cold brew coming up. Lone Star okay?"

Asterix nodded, "That's fine Andy. That'd do me just right about now."

Andy popped the tops off of the two longnecks, setting them down on the bar 
in front of the two deliverymen. The condensation from the warm air meeting 
the chilled bottle rolled down the side of the glass. The entire scene looked 
exactly like a beer commercial, even down to the slight bit of foam pouring 
over the lip of the beer bottles.

"Do you gentlemen need glasses for your beer?" inquired Andy genially.

Both Comma and Asterix looked at each other, and then back at Andy with a 
confused expression upon their faces. 

It was Comma who spoke this time for the both of them. "Glasses? Ruin a 
perfectly good beer with glasses? Hah. We'll drink it as it was meant to be, 
straight out of the bottle."

Andy slapped each of them on the shoulder, from across the bar. "Y'all are 
guys after my own heart."

Comma and Asterix turned around by 180 degrees, so that their backs were 
up against the bar. They leaned up against it to take a load off of their 
muscles. In unison, the took a deep draught from their respective beer 
bottles.

While Comma fretted internally about what the old man would do if he found 
out, Asterix scanned the rest of The Roadhouse's interior. Thankfully, the 
very item that he was looking for, an item that is usually found in every bar, 
was missing. Aside from the tables and chairs, there was a small barren 
stage, and an unoccupied corner where a jukebox should be.

Asterix turned his head toward his taller partner to wink. Then he craned his 
head further to the right to look over his shoulder. He wanted to bring up the 
subject with Andy, almost as an aside.

"Hey Andy? Where's the entertainment? Ain't ya got any tunes to liven the 
place up?" prodded Asterix.

Andy responded sheepishly, "Uh. Sorry guys. I was a little short on cash, 
and had to sell my jukebox a while back. Business has been kinda slow, and, 
well, every man's got to eat."

Asterix turned his body around to face Andy once again. He virtually beamed 
at the owner/bartender. "Really? Maybe we can be of some help to you!"

That comment confused Andy. "How? I don't understand."

Now Asterix slapped Andy on the shoulder. "By a stroke of luck, we have 
jukebox, one of those new CD jukeboxes, in our truck. Seems that it was 
loaded by accident, and we don't know where it goes to. Maybe we can let 
you have it."

Andy adopted a countenance of sadness. The place sorely needed a jukebox, 
but he didn't have the resources to get one. With a new jukebox there was the 
possibility of more business. If only he could afford it.

He told the deliverymen of his financial condition, "That's might kind of you 
guys. I wish that I could, but I just don't have any way to pay for it. I can't 
even lease one at this point."

"You're in luck, my friend. If we go back with this thing in our truck, out 
boss is gonna be real pissed off at us. Believe me when I say that you don't 
want to get him angry. So you see, we have to ditch it one way or another. 
You seem to be a stand up kind of a guy, so what do you say we just give it 
to you for, say, a few beers and a burger. Each."

"Really? You fellas aren't foolin' with me are you?"

Now Comma got into the mix. All of his worries about what the old man 
would do to them seemed to just drift away.

Comma turned, stuck his hand out to shake, and stated as sincerely as 
possible, "We wouldn't josh you Andy. That's not our style. Whadda you 
say . . . is it a deal?"

Andy grabbed the extended hand quite eagerly. He pumped it excitedly, "It's 
a deal! Man . . . this must be my lucky day."

Comma and Asterix glanced at each other, then rolled their eyes. They 
nodded, declaring in unison, "Let's get this thing unloaded."

**********

It took them 30 minutes, 3 beers each, 2 hamburgers, and an order of fries to 
get the contraption unloaded and set up in the corner. Finally, Asterix 
plugged it in to the nearby outlet, only to have the jukebox light up like a 
carnival ride.

The bright neon lights, as well as the refracted prisms of the rotating CD's, 
were quite a sight to see. That was especially true for Andy. He was like unto 
a child on Christmas day.

"Play something, Asterix," cried Andy from the bar.

Not in this lifetime, mused Asterix. He knew exactly how these SRU devices 
worked! If he put money into one of these things, or voluntarily trigger it in 
any way, he was doomed. Instead, he flipped the button in back for 
"Automatic Play."

That way the machine itself chose the music or song. Whatever magic that 
was contained therein would not be activated, but would lie dormant. Well, at 
least a part of the magic anyway.

No sooner did the music fill the air, than both of the deliverymen deduce the 
nature of the enchantment. The intoxicating sound was everywhere, 
permeating everything! The music itself was hypnotic, drawing people to it, 
and encouraging them to play the song therein.

Andy started to absently walk toward the magic jukebox in a near trance-like 
state. He was stopped only by the timely intervention of Comma. Comma 
looked him directly in the eye so that he could extract a singular promise from 
the man.

"Andy. Promise me that you will never play the machine with money. That is 
only for your customers. You must promise that you will only put it on 
automatic play."

"O-okay. I promise, Comma," assured the dazed owner. The promise was 
not too much to ask in exchange for the jukebox.

It did sound wonderful. Sweet music was everywhere.

Andy returned to the bar, declaring confidently as he went, "I have the feeling 
that business is about to pick up!"

Comma nudged Asterix. "That's is EXACTLY what I'm afraid of."

**********

The three in the bar wouldn't have long to wait before they learned exactly 
how perceptive Andy's comment actually was.

About a mile down the road, Burt and Jack were approaching in Burt's pick-
up truck. Music began to filter into their brain. It wasn't just music, but was 
entrancing, encouraging. Like the siren's song of old mythology, it called to 
them to come hither.

Such was the nature of the enchanted jukebox. When on automatic play 
mode, it could be hear by whatever person was within a few miles. It didn't 
matter how close the person was, or how far, for each would hear it just the 
same. For those in the bar, it would appear to come from the jukebox. For 
those with radios or stereos, that were turned on, it would appear as if the 
music came from that source. Others would hear it as music playing close by, 
while still others would perceive it as a song that they just couldn't get out of 
their head.

No matter the particular method of perception, the effect would ever be the 
same. To those who heard, it would call them to find the source. Once found, 
they would not be able to resist playing the machine, and thus triggering the 
second part of the spell.

"Where's that music coming from, Burt?" asked Jack from the passenger 
seat.

"I don't know. I hear it too. Maybe it's coming from the radio."

Jack leaned forward, and checked the truck's radio.

"Nope. The radio's off."

"That's strange. It sounds so close . . . so clear."

"I know it."

Just then, their truck closed in on The Roadhouse. Burt turned the truck into 
the parking lot, as it was their destination. As soon as Burt shut down the 
engine, they both ascertained the locus of the music.

It was emanating from The Roadhouse.

That wasn't the only thing that surprised them because there was another 
vehicle, a van, with the letters "SRU" painted on the side.

"This is where it's coming from," stated Burt with an amazing grasp of the 
obvious.

Jack nodded. "I wonder what's going on inside? This place has been dead for 
years."

They both walked to the front door of the establishment. Burt pushed open 
the front door, saying, "I don't know, Buddy. Let's find out.

**********

Asterix, Comma, and Andy's heads all turned to see the two new customers. 
They were both dressed in flannel shirts and jeans. The taller, huskier one, 
Jack, had hiking boots on, with a baseball cap that was turned backwards. 
The short one, Burt, opted for tennis shoes and no hat. Burt was much 
slimmer than Jack. Burt had the much fairer complexion.

Andy mentioned to his two new friends, "That was quick. Two more 
customers . . . on the same day. Business IS picking up."

Jack and Burt padded up to the far side of the bar, away from the SRU 
deliverymen. While Andy moved down to greet them, and also fill their drink 
orders, Asterix and Comma glanced at one another.

They heard Andy say, "Hello guys. What'll it be?"

Comma had a very concerned expression upon his face. It was a fact that he 
communicated to Asterix. "Let's get out of here before things get too weird."

Comma started to move away from the bar, only to be pulled back by 
Asterix's strong grip around his arm.

"Hold on. Not so fast. I want to see how this thing really works, and it's 
only a mater of time before one of these newbies play it." Asterix motioned 
his thumb toward Jack and Burt as he spoke.

Comma worried, "This is NOT going to end well . . . I just know it."

Farther down the bar, Burt addressed Andy's question. "Give us two 
brewskis, and do you have a menu?"

Andy retrieved a menu, and handed it to the man. He could believe his good 
fortune. Things were definitely beginning to look up.

"Two beers coming right up. What kind of beer do y'all want?"

Now it was Jack's turn to contribute to the conversation. He had to. Burt was 
forever ordering lite beer, or those newfangled beers with a fruity taste. That 
just wasn't for him. He needed a good old domestic, full-bodied beer . . . a 
man's beer.

"Make it two Budweisers."

The order set Andy to work behind the bar. It was sent Burt's complaint 
mechanism into overdrive. 

"Budweiser? I hate Budweiser," Burt whined.

"In the category of famous last words, Jack remarked, "You know, with the 
type of beer you like, you might as well be a chick yourself."

Burt balked at the affront to his soon-to-be anguished manhood. However, 
before he could get a single word out, Jack spoke again.

"I'm gonna hit the head. I gotta piss so bad it hurts. Order me a burger or 
something while I'm gone." Jack addressed Andy, who by now was setting 
the cold bottles of Bud on the bar. "Where's the men's room, Captain?"

Andy pointed to a grouping of doors on the far side of the wall.

"I'll be right back, Burt. Try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone. 
Okay?"

Burt took a swig from the beer bottle, before replying, "Trouble? Me? What 
could possibly go wrong here?"

With that, Jack made a bee line straight for the men's room. When he was 
halfway across the expanse of the room, the song on the jukebox changed. 
This time it was a song by the Rolling Stones."

Burt quickly made the food order to Andy, who then disappeared into the 
kitchen. Without anybody to distract him, Burt fell completely under the spell 
of the enchanted jukebox. In fact, he couldn't even remember when he ever 
heard such true and pure music.

It was as if the machine was singing directly into his soul . . . which, of 
course, it was.

Burt's foot, then his entire leg, began to move in time with the beat of the 
song. He felt like . . . dancing? That was impossible because he NEVER felt 
like dancing, even when he was out with Cindy.

By and by, Burt became aware of what his lower extremities were doing. It 
prompted him to look to his side to determine if anyone was watching him. 
He blushed just a little when he saw the two deliverymen down the bar 
staring at him intently.

What the Hell are they lookin' at, wondered Burt? Haven't they ever seen 
anyone keepin' time to a song?

Still, he just couldn't force himself to stop. Therefore, he decided to wander 
over to the jukebox to see what kind of song selection it had. Burt grabbed a 
dollar from the Money on the bar just in case he found something that he 
liked.

Little did Burt realize there is ALWAYS a selection that you will like on an 
enchanted jukebox. Burt was compelled by the lure of the device to go and 
play one or more of the selections.

Burt couldn't have heard Asterix say to Comma, as they were out of ear shot, 
"Here we go!"

The jukebox's printed instructions told Burt that he got three selections for 
$1, but only 1 selection for $.50. One selection for $.50 seemed like such a 
rip-off to him, in essence explaining why he brought the crisp dollar bill with 
him. Burt had some experience with these things in other bars, although, 
now that he thought about it, he usually avoided those other jukeboxes like 
the plague.

Hadn't he always thought of all jukeboxes as a rip-off or something? Burt 
seemed to recall once believing something like that, however, the idea 
flittered away as fast as it came. Again, there was something about this 
jukebox that made him want to surrender $1 for three selections.

Absently, as if under some type of remote control, Burt slipped the dollar into 
the bill acceptor. The numerical LED communicated that he had three plays 
coming to him. Therefore, Burt started to flip throughly the various CD 
selections.

They just went on and on, and seemed like it had just about . . . everything. 
Almost every song the mind could imagine from old to new was there. The 
instant that Burt wondered if it had this band, or that song, the CD would 
instantly appear on the very next page of choices.

Burt idly wondered whether the jukebox had anything from ZZ Top, which 
was his favorite group? Sure enough, the very next page showed the front of 
the CD entitled, "The Best of ZZ TOP."

All of their hits were represented, all of Burt's favorites. Burt's fingers flew 
across the numerical buttons, making the three selections in scant seconds. 
All of the while, Burt's feet continued their incessant tapping to the beat of 
the music.

He started to walk back to the bar to finish the remainder of hiss beer, but 
after only a few steps, the song on the jukebox changed again. Burt froze in 
his tracks, completely in thrall. It was as if he were held in place by some 
giant, unseen hand. The first notes of the new song began to play, which 
Burt immediately recognized as the first of his selections.

Over at the bar, Comma noted, "Hey! I know this song. It's . . . uh . . . the 
name's on the tip of my tongue."

"Legs," informed Asterix.

"Damn. He ain't gonna like this!" whistled Comma.

"I doubt that by the end of the song he . . . she won't much care!"

The two eased back upon the bar to watch the fantastic transformation, which 
their past experience told them was about to unfold.

Sure enough, Burt began to dance all around the area in front of the jukebox. 
He danced to the perfect beat of the song that he selected. Burt tried as best as 
he could to stop himself, but it was no use. His hands, arms, legs, feet, hips, 
and every muscle of his body moved of its own volition.

At first those movements were rough and jerky like every guys' dancing 
ability. As the song grew closer to the vocals, Burt's movements became 
more graceful, more flowing, and, in fact, more feminine. In mere seconds, 
he was dancing all around just as a girl would. Burt's hips and ass, although 
still definitely male in form, swayed and wiggled with an overstated feminine 
motion.

The way that Burt moved was much more than just feminine. It was lithe, 
seductive, suggestive, and oh so sexual . . . down to insistent pelvic thrusts. 
But for a decidedly male body, a casual observer would have sworn that he 
was a Middle Eastern belly dancer or even a . . . stripper?

The shape of Burt's body was an anomaly that was soon to be remedied!

All Comma and Asterix could do was stare, wide eyed and slack jawed.

"W-what's happening to me?" cried Burt, in a panic, but it was lost in the 
vocals of the song, which were just starting.

That still didn't stop Burt from screaming desperately for help. "PLEASE! 
SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

Less than 30 seconds had elapsed since the song began. However, as it 
always is with such surreal occasions, time itself seemed to slow down to 
accommodate the fantastic transformations to the victim. In reality, time 
twisted in and around itself, like a dog chasing its tail, speeding up here and 
then crawling there.

Indeed, in the men's room, Jack was camped out on the porcelain throne, 
tapping his own feet in time to the song, "Legs." The passage of time 
appeared to be moving forward normally. If he could only see what the song 
was doing to his best friend, the same interval would have seemed like an 
eternity.

At least it did to Burt, trapped as he was with in the grip of the magical spell. 
His plaintive yells for help fell upon deaf ears under the din of the music.

The first refrain from Dusty Hill's distinct voice joined in on the up tempo 
song. The heavy guitars kept the song humming along at a good pace.

"She's got legs . . . ." were the first three words of the song.

Almost instantaneously, Burt's body began to reform itself so that its shape 
reflected his movement. The cracking of bones, and the sound of muscles 
shifting, assuming gentler and curvier lines was imperceptible under the 
music from the jukebox.

It also succeeded in silencing, for the moment, a mortified Burt.

Nevertheless, Burt felt it. His body continued to move in ultra feminine 
patterns, but now a sense of heat engulfed his body. It was accompanied by a 
tingling or tickling in every cell of his body. Burt could actually feel the 
components of his body becoming undone, only to knit themselves back 
together again.

Thankfully, there was no pain.

Still, Burt tried in vain to call for help, but his mouth or vocal cords, 
currently under reconstruction, no longer worked.

Where once stood an average man of 6'0", there was now a woman of 
approximately 5'6". He felt the limbs of his body grow smaller, as did his 
waist. The items in the room appeared to grow from Burt's perspective, as he 
shrank by about 6".

That, however, was not as strange as the sensation of his hips and rearend 
flaring, widening, and rounding. The strangest of all was the sense of growth 
upon his chest. Burt's pectoral muscles softened under the words of the 
song, specifically the word "She," and swelled out to form smallish, pert 
breasts.

Now Burt was aware of what had happened to him.

"Please. Somebody help me," Burt exclaimed once more. It was weak and 
pitiful. In the space of but few words, his voice elevated several octaves until 
it was a sweet, soft contralto.

He, now she, felt the delicious tension of excited, engorged nipples at the 
ends of her new breasts. The overwhelming, alien, yet erotic sensations were 
themselves abruptly overshadowed by Burt's shriveled manhood being 
sucked up into her groin.

It was replaced by a provocative flatness, punctuated by a moist and warm 
vaginal slit.

All in all, Burt now resembled the person she would have been, had she been 
born a woman. Her hair was a little longer than it was before, her face was a 
little softer. All traces of facial hair was gone, and the lines were definitely 
those of a girl. She was an attractive, maybe even a pretty girl, who clearly 
would have drawn her share of men.

Burt felt pinches, almost pin pricks, in each of her earlobes. When she 
reached up to her lobes, she discovered stud earrings therein. Even her hands 
were smaller, with delicate fingers, soft skin. And long manicured 
fingernails. The fingernails were done in an exquisite French manicure.

"I-I-I'm a girl!" whispered in shock Burt under the volume of the music.

Burt's clothes also changed to match her new form. Her jeans fused, and 
crawled up to mid thigh in the shape of a denim skirt. The flannel shirt 
remained practically the same, although it shrank to conform to the 
dimensions of a female body. The flannel shirt was now tied at the waist, as 
some girls do, to showcase a flat, smooth stomach. Burt's white tank T-shirt 
shrank into a white lacy bra that held Burt's nascent breasts in place. 

Even with the bra, Burt could feel her boobs bouncing provocatively up and 
down with each dance step.

Yes. The first three words of the song had transmogrified Burt completely 
into a woman that she might have been, except for one particular feature. Her 
legs. They were soft, slender and smooth with just the perfect amount of 
baby fat. In short, they were devastating!

Even Comma and Asterix, watching from afar, had to admit they were the 
most perfect set of woman's legs they had ever seen. They were absolutely 
speechless. Although they had always heard of their boss's spells changing 
men into women, they had never witnessed such a transformation for 
themselves. The reality of it was much more incredible than the verbal 
recounting.

It was so stunning that Comma and Asterix were virtually paralyzed when 
they saw Burt reaching toward them for help. He wanted the two men to pull 
him from the magical vortex. 

There was more to come . . . the song had only just begun!

The length and breadth of the entire metamorphosis transpired in a real time 
blink of an eye. Neither the song playing on the jukebox, nor the altered Burt 
missed a beat the entire time. There was no time for her to catch her breath 
because the next line came just as quickly.

The vocalist for ZZ Top sang out the next set of lyrics.

" . . . . she knows how to use them!"

The interstice between those words afforded the girlish Burt a chance to call 
out to the deliverymen in her new voice, "Please, oh please. Somebody stop 
the song."

Even she now realized what caused her radical change in gender.

Both Comma and Asterix stood transfixed over the unique erotic spectacle. 
Indeed, as the swelling of their respective groins would attest, it was an 
extreme turn on. They watched the arcane energies of the music box work its 
magic once more.

The denim skirt that adorned Burt's curvy hips began to shift once again. The 
fabric began to creep up her legs farther and farther until all that remained was 
an extremely tight, and extremely short pair of Daisy Duke cut-off shorts. 
They were so tight that the slender strip of denim between the front and back 
of the shorts threatened to floss her vaginal `lips or the cleft of her tush.

They were exactly the type of garment that a woman would want to wear to 
show off shapely legs. Still, it wasn't enough.

The shoes which Burt had been wearing started to reshape themselves under 
the enchantment. In the last alteration, the basketball shoes and socks that 
Burt was originally wearing became a very unathletic pair of pink lady's 
Keds. The socks became little lacy anklets. This time, the socks dissipated 
altogether!

The Keds turned much darker, as the heel started to rise. In a heartbeat, 
where once there were tiny sneakers, there were black leather pumps with at 
least a 6" heel.

Again, it was the perfect thing for a woman to wear if she WANTED to show 
off her legs.

The final change for this round of lyrics was more behavioral. Burt was able 
to nimbly dance and prance around in those heels as if she had worn them all 
of her life. Her dancing movements began to emphasize her mouth watering 
legs, as she ran her delicate hands all over their satiny skin . . . between her 
inner thighs. One hand lingered on the front panel of the Daisy Duke's.

By now, Burt realized that no help was forthcoming. Instead of fighting her 
body's movements or screaming in vain for help . . . she cried. Big crocodile 
tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. A second latter a grin broke through the 
gloom on her face.

What couldn't be seen was the mental changes occurring within Burt's poor 
mind. She found that she was beginning to like dancing around like this. She 
like her body, particularly her great gams! Most of all, she like to touch them 
and have people . . . no . . . men look at them. She was actually teasing 
Asterix and Comma, the two onlookers, with her legs.

"W-wow!" declared a stunned Asterix.

"Y-yeah," agreed Comma.

The last bit of attitude adjustment to Burt's waning psyche only set the stage 
for the next line.

Before that line was uttered, Jack, who was finished with his hygienic 
business, burst out of the mens' room into the new reality. He looked at the 
dancing girl in the short shorts, only to have his own mind rearranged to 
accommodate the altered circumstances.

Jack glared at her not with an expression of confusion or surprise, but one of 
familiarity. He grumbled to his girlfriend, "What are you doing, Bunny? 
Why do you have to embarrass me like this every time that we go out 
somewhere?"

The girl stuck her tongue out at him, in an act of defiance, then continued 
with her sexual gyrations.

Asterix glanced over at Comma, "Bunny?"

"That's what the man said!"

Dusty Hill sang the next line, "She never begs . . . ."

This change was also more mental than it was physical, although an instant 
later it was manifested in a physical way. The three small words robbed the 
new Bunny of the intelligence to reason . . . the intelligence that would be 
required to form coherent thoughts to beg. Points of her intelligence quotient 
leaked away like a dam that had sprung a leak. The light of any trace of 
rational thought faded from her eyes.

Bunny's face wore a vapid expression, as millions upon millions of neurons 
inside of her head shut down or closed off. It left only a child-like air head in 
its wake.

Bunny knew something was slipping away from her . . . something essential 
and precious. Unfortunately, by the time she even approached figuring it out, 
it was gone. All that was left was a most pleasant fuzziness of not a care in 
the world.

She started to giggle. Everything suddenly seemed to be funny to her. She 
had no idea what it was, only that she felt incredibly giddy and happy. Bunny 
was having a lot of fun just dancing around.

"Damn it," swore Jack. "I told you to stop that, Bunny!"

That only made the stupid new girl giggle more, and spin and twirl to the 
hypnotic music.

Andy entered the bar from the back kitchen. The instant that he stepped into 
the bar area, he beheld the gyrating girl with the sleek, stunning legs. His 
mind was suddenly altered by the magic in the air to accommodate the new 
reality.

Andy continued to shake his head in only mild disbelief, as he carried the 
food orders back to the space originally occupied by Burt and Jack. Instead 
of two burgers and two orders of fries, he carried one burger and fried for 
Jack, and a salad (dressing on the side) for Bunny. Some comment about 
having to watch her weight seemed to linger in Andy's memories.

Asterix and Comma both overheard Andy mumbling as he passed them by, 
"That girl's in here dancing like some stripper again!"

They looked at each other blankly. The ability of the jukebox to alter the very 
fabric of reality was nothing short of remarkable. Asterix started to regret 
making the suggestion to dump the device on some unwitting people. The 
only good thing was that the reality warping power would, more than likely 
than not, cover their tracks . . . their error in judgment.

It was time for the next line of the song in this strange transformational opera.

" . . . . she knows how to choose them," sang the venerable rock group.

This part of the metamorphosis was again overwhelmingly mental. The void 
that the prior set of lyrics created within Bunny's mins was now filled by 
something a little more basic. It wasn't intelligence by any stretch of the 
imagination, but was more accurately described as . . . instincts.

Bunny's intelligence was replaced by the ability to sense which man was 
more virile by the smell of his phermones or the smell of his natural musk. 
What she lost in the simple ability to read, write add or subtract was filled by 
the instinctive knowledge of which guys had the most money. She just knew 
which guys would be the best provider by the way that they acted, or by what 
they possessed.

The last lyric subtly changed the dancing Bunny into the quintessential, man 
hungry, gold digger. It was a fact reflected in the knowing smile upon her 
face, as she riveted her attention at Jack.

Something inside of Bunny told her that he was a terrific lover and a good 
provider. He would buy her the things that she wanted.

Did the transformation stop there? Oh no! The song was only halfway 
through the first stanza. The progression of the enchanted song only 
succeeded in laying down the foundation of man into woman for the more 
outrageous changes to follow!

Where the last parts of the transformation was physical, and then mental, the 
next line heralded a change of the behavioral nature.

The words rang out, whilst Andy, Comma, Asterix, and specifically a rapt 
Jack stared on. Jack, by far, was the closest to the girl, and was attempting in 
vain to get her to stop. Jacks's face was red, as if Bunny's dancing was a 
personal embarrassment to him! Indeed, every few seconds he looked over to 
the other three with a guilty grin, as if to say, "I'm so sorry."

"She only lets, one of them to feel them," blared from the jukebox's 
magically enhanced sound system.

With those easy words, Bunny's entire attitude changed. She did not want to 
be touching her own beautiful legs, but instead she wanted Jack to touch 
them. Want was not an accurate word. The overpowering craving, burning, 
or yearning to be touched by Jack's hands was more reflective of a need.

Bunny felt no disgust or hesitation in this desire . . . she . . . had to have it, 
more than anything else.

However, although she currently wanted only Jack to touch her shapely legs, 
Bunny wanted the other men who were watching to see. The very idea of 
having a man touch her in a sexually suggestive manner, in full view of other 
man, was . . . dangerous . . . intoxicating. It thrilled her from the top of her 
head to the tips of her toes.

Bunny now enjoyed having men watch her, and more than that, desire her. 
To that end, her movements became even more, if it was possible, sultry and 
exotic. They were moved specifically designed to make men stare at her.

She swayed and wiggled her way over to where Jack was standing. Gently, 
she took his hand into hers, and moved it to the hairless flesh of her bare 
legs. With her hand still upon his, she began to move it up and down on her 
leg to encourage him to caress what was, for her, her best assent.

It didn't take much urging for Jack to comply with Bunny's wishes. His 
hands took on a life of their own, as his other free hand joined the other one 
on her opposite leg. Jack softly traced his fingers up and the length of those 
heart stopping legs.

Bunny danced close enough and slow enough for Jack to continue to caress 
her thighs. She found herself to be very excited by the touch of rough hewn 
flesh upon her own soft skin. Bunny's nipples grew under the ministrations 
of Jack's big hands, and an urgent need for her new sex to be filled by his 
warmed her loins.

She touched his hands yet again, moving one of them all of the way to the 
junction of leg and hip. Jack's fingers now rested right beside the rise of 
Bunny's genital mound. The other hand moved to the softest part of her inner 
thigh.

"I-I think I need another beer, Andy," gulped Asterix.

"M-m-me too," stuttered Comma.

Now, those two guys were no strangers to magical happenings, but even 
they were astonished, astounded, and quite literally stimulated by the passion 
play unfolding before their eyes. In a word, Bunny made them horny.

The stirrings of an idea began to germinate inside of Andy's white matter. 
Hmm. A girl is dancing . . . suggestively. There are more guys here right 
now than have been here in a week. They are drinking beer. This was good 
for business, and there just HAD to be some way to take advantage of it.

Andy slid the beer up the counter, only to have Comma and Asterix slide a 
few bills back at Andy in payment. They were so entranced by the dancing 
girl that they forgot the previous business arrangement.

Andy wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he snatched the money 
from the counter. He smiled. Yes, there just had to be some way to use this!

Asterix and Comma grabbed their beer bottles, and walked in a trance-like 
state to the tables surrounding the stage. They felt compelled to get a closer 
look at the man and woman interacting beside that stage, just in front of the 
jukebox. The whole thing was downright . . . amazing.

"Would you get behind her, you would only find her," was the next line of 
the song.

It sounded like a nonsensical line with no apparent meaning. Nevertheless, 
the spell of the jukebox found a way to use the words to metamorphosize the 
former Burt still further.

As per the instructions of the song, Bunny turned so that her rearend was 
now facing Jack. His face no longer wore a masque of frustration, 
embarrassment or anger with Bunny. It was replaced by a look of dreamy 
sexual excitement.

When Bunny pushed her tush into Jack's lap, she found his manhood to be 
hard and very, very erect. He was good to go! However, that STILL wasn't 
enough.. Bunny began to grind the cheeks of her bum into Jack's bulging 
cock. While she did this, Bunny felt the now familiar tingling and tickling all 
along the flesh of her backside.

Her derriere shifted and reformed itself into a firm yet soft exclamation point 
to her legs. Her rearend reshaped itself until it was the heart shaped perfection 
of any man's wet dream. Her Daisy Duke's drew even tighter to accentuate 
her world-class ass.

The cleft of Bunny's ass found Jack's bulge . . . an ideal fit. If anyone could 
see that butt, they would immediately concur that it could stop traffic!

Asterix and Comma were caught up in the events despite their ability to 
separate truth and reality. Their knowledge of the nature of the magical 
jukebox immunized them from its power. They knew very well that the still 
developing girl before their eyes used to be a man named Burt.

Their interest was a far baser nature now. They hooted, hollered, and 
whistled in an effort to encourage her to go farther. Their enthusiastic 
gestures were quickly rewarded by a vacant, winsome smile from Bunny.

While she continued to grind her derriere into Burt's crotch, she pulled on of 
his hands up to the front panel of her shorts. Bunny pressed his fingers into 
the exact spot that she wanted him to rub. Jack's other hand found the thigh 
of her leg on its own accord.

Bunny moaned to signify that he was doing it correctly, simultaneously 
winking at the deliverymen. She also licked her lips in a most inviting 
manner.

"She's my Baby. She's my Baby. Yeah, it's all right," came the next snippet 
of the song, "Legs."

With the first three words, Bunny recognized the same sensation that she had 
felt when this all began. In other words, every cell of her body tingled and 
tickled. She could feel the integral components of her body come undone, to 
reform microseconds later.

Something made her move away from Jack now . . . just in time. Bunny saw 
the items in the room grow taller or bigger when she slowly shrank another 
6". She now stood at the tiny, petite height of 5'0". The rest of her body 
diminished proportionately. No on in the room seemed to notice that anything 
was other than what it should be . . . or ever was. All except Comma and 
Asterix that is.

The repeated next three words bled away the days, weeks, months and years 
of the original Burt's 28 years of age until Bunny reached 1 day over her 18th 
birthday. Moreover, the magic continued to work its power to make her look 
years younger than the 18 years of age.

To all of the world, Bunny now looked like a small, oversexed school girl. 
Only Asterix and Comma would be able to tell her from her original identity.

There was still a little amount of Burt in Bunny's face. Call it . . . Burt's little 
sister.

The last three words of the line worked another mental change within Bunny. 
The instant they were uttered, she accepted her new reality. More than that, 
she absolutely loved to be so small and soft . . . to be overpowered by even 
the smallest of men. Bunny liked being as small as . . . well . . . a bunny!

There was a brief musical interlude between the first verse of the song and the 
second. This afforded Bunny the chance to jump on the stage to dance 
around. Somehow, in a manner which her poor diminished brain could not 
understand, it felt right. It felt natural and somehow . . . appropriate?

She skipped around the stage, dancing her, twirling there. Bunny flitted from 
the table where Asterix and Comma sat to the table where Jack now sat. He 
immediately sought a seat when Bunny pulled away from him.

Interestingly, although Jack would never know it, the very second that 
Bunny pulled away from him, reality shifted yet one more time to accept the 
developing circumstances. For instance, the beer that was originally the beer 
at the bar for Burt disappeared into thin air. The only thing that remained was 
the beer and burger that was ordered by Jack . . . almost as if he came there 
himself.

In fact, that was exactly what Jack thought. He had no memory of stopping 
into the bar with anyone but himself. He only recalled the need to go off 
fishing by himself just to think. He was pleasantly surprised to see an 
attractive girl dancing about when he entered The Roadhouse. He didn't even 
know her name.

However, Andy suddenly did know her name. The seed of the idea that was 
in the back of his mind now blossomed into stark reality with one simple 
statement.

"Hey Bunny! Lose the shirt. These guys came in to see your tits and ass, not 
your wardrobe," yelled Andy over the music to his new employee.

The very young girl stuck her tongue out playfully at her employer, just as 
you would anticipate a child to do. Again, employer is less than an accurate 
description. Bunny paid him a percentage of whatever tips that she could 
tease out of the customers.

She ripped open the front of her flannel shirt without a moment's hesitation. 
The open shirt revealed her small frame and pert little titties, still restrained 
within the confines of a lacy bra. Bunny untied the ends of the shirt tails at 
her waist to show off her flat, trim tummy.

The opened shirt dangled at her sides, as she danced about, offering 
tantalizing glimpses of the creamy treasures that lay beneath. The shirt tails 
didn't stay dangling for very long. In one deft move, Bunny spun around on 
one high heel, and peeled off the flannel. It was like she had been stripping 
for one time . . . the shirt flew into the small audience to land on Jack's head.

Bunny's latest flamboyant act elicited the hoots and hollers of Asterix and 
Comma. They were throughly enjoying themselves now.

Asterix even cried, "Take it off. Take it ALL off!"

Bunny giggled. She just loved that guys like to look at her.

**********

Out on highway 6, people were in the midst of their commute home from 
work. Each car that came into range invariably picked up the siren song of the 
magical jukebox. Those with radios heard the song, "Legs," coming through 
the stereo speakers. Those that didn't, heard it coming from . . . somewhere.

No matter how the commuters, mostly men, perceived the music, the end 
result was the same. Cars for no reason started to turn into the parking lot of 
The Roadhouse. It was exactly like the end of the movie, "The Field of 
Dreams." In this case, it was, "If you play it, they will come."

The people absently exited their vehicles to go inside the bar. Something deep 
within them compelled them to find the source of the captivating music.

Even from the parking lot, the new potential customers could hear ZZ Top 
singing the next part of the song.

"She's got hair, down to her fanny . . . ."

Those lyrics triggered a further transformation in the former man that was 
consistent with the words. Bunny's relatively short, for a girl, light brown 
hair, first began to lighten. In the space of nanoseconds, her shortish tresses 
changed color to dark blonde. From dark blonde it lightened still further into 
a rich golden blonde, and from there into a light, almost platinum blonde.

That's when the itching began. Suddenly, Bunny felt like a thousand ants 
were crawling across here scalp. She reached up to scratch the itch, only to 
have the blonde strands lengthen rapidly to meet her dainty, delicate hands. 
Her hair continued to grow like wildfire, in a scene that was like some eerie 
time lapse photography.

The hair didn't stop growing until the very tips tickled the bottoms of her 
fanny cheeks. Bunny's long hair tumbled over her back and shoulders in 
thick waves of loose curls. The fabulous hair, which looked like it just 
sprang from a shampoo commercial onto Bunny's head, was dense, lustrous, 
and silken.

It was the kind of hair that men would love to run their hands through, or 
better yet, would love to see spread out on a pillow as they lowered 
themselves between this girl's glorious legs.

Bunny's hands, instead of scratching the fading itch, reached up and fluffed 
her hair, so that it was just perfect. She played with her hair teasingly while 
she continued to strut around on the stage. She tossed her head coquettishly, 
and flipped the tresses back over her shoulder in time to meet the set of lyrics 
that would cause the most outrageous change.

" . . . . she's got a chest set . . . ."

The small pert boobies on Bunny's chest swelled rapidly . . . pushing 
themselves farther away from the tiny frame of her chest wall. Bigger and 
bigger they grew, until they reached the impressive size of 34D. Considering 
Bunny's petite body, they were much larger than the average woman. 
However, they were all natural, and very, very firm.

The cups of the lacy white bra also grew to meet the demands of increased 
support. Even so, the sheer material could not hide the thick, engorged 
nipples that expanded with the rest of the bosom. They stuck out like new 
pencil erasers.

The increased weight and mass translated into an exaggerated jiggling motion 
on Bunny's chest. If it caused her any distress, it didn't show, for her hands 
fell from her hair to her boobs. She squeezed them together, and fondled 
them suggestively.

Bunny's greatly diminished brain capacity could not comprehend what was 
happening to her. The only thing that she knew was the incredible feeling 
coming from her chest. She really enjoyed having big tits, especially how the 
jiggled and bounced every time that she moved. Bunny altered her routine 
subtly so that her movements made them bounce even more.

She closed her eyes, and moaned. They felt soooooo good. Bunny giggled in 
her head. I just wish I could afford a boob job to make em even bigger! Then 
EVERY guy will wanna touch em.

The new bubble brained girl wouldn't have long to wait. The next line of the 
song took care of that desire for her . . . and more.

". . . . can't even see her panties," were the words from Dusty Hill.

Once again, Bunny's breasts grew . . . this time by leaps and bounds! They 
looked like balloons being filled up with gas or water. The perverse 
expansion continued until her tits measured a whopping 45EEE. Although 
they were still partially hidden by a bra stretched to its breaking point, the 
mammary flesh developed twin scars one would expect to see from breast 
augmentation.

The sheer size and firmness of the two melons would attest to the fact they 
were products of technology rather than nature.

The poor bra could not grow fast enough to meet the demands of the girl's 
huge hooters, so it broke with an explosive, "POP!"

A round of throaty cheers erupted from the suddenly massive audience. Men 
surrounded the stage. In the blink of an eye, The Roadhouse had become a 
boiling cauldron of boisterous testosterone. Guys were lined up at the bar 
ordering drinks from Andy, who was dashing about madly in an effort to 
keep up.

Andy mumbled to himself, "I'm going to need more help."

Comma, Asterix and Jack were lost amidst the growing sea of people. Every 
table, every chair was occupied.

Asterix smirked, "This place got popular real fast!"

Comma jerked a thumb toward the stage. "I think it's the entertainment. I just 
hope that I never fall under one of the boss's spells."

The other rolled his eyes. "You ain't lying. She could be a little prettier 
though. You know . . . in the face."

Comma pointed out, accurately, "The song isn't over yet."

Asterix only nodded.

Elsewhere in the crowd, Jack found himself wishing that he knew the name 
of the stripper upon stage. He sure wouldn't mind fucking her! Her boobs 
were . . . incredible. Jack couldn't quite recall why he stopped in this place 
because strip clubs weren't his style. However, he was now glad that he did!

"Let them puppies breathe, Boom Boom," shouted a man seated to the rear of 
Jack.

Jack arched one eyebrow, and thought, hmmmmm? Boom Boom? 
Appropriate name! He, like everybody else in the room ogled Bunny . . . 
now Boom Boom's mammoth tits.

Boom Boom just giggled, and blew a kiss to the man behind Jack.

**********

Meanwhile outside, the gravel parking lot could no longer support the influx 
of people pouring into The Roadhouse. Men and women alike streamed into 
the heretofore dead establishment. Those vehicles that couldn't find a parking 
spot found spaces along the berm of the road. There was literally a line to get 
into the bar.

There was a veritable throng present to hear the next line of "Legs."

**********

"Every time she dances, she knows what to do."

With those new words, Boom Boom's entire style of dancing changed 
radically. She shrugged off the torn bra, setting her massive chest to 
bouncing. Wide pink areolae, the size of cup saucers were now visible to the 
audience. In the center of those cookies was a thumb sized, fully erect nipple.

The Daisy Duke short began to shrink once again. The fabric of their 
existence narrowed more and more until all that remained was a skimpy, 
sequined G-string.

The dissipated material of the shorts was not wasted, for a garter belt slowly 
formed on Boom Boom's mid thigh. Dollar bills materialized from nothing 
more than air under the elastic band of the garter belt.

Boom Boom dropped to her hands and knees, so that she could crawl around 
on stage like some type of wild animal in heat. She wiggled her fanny so 
provocatively. She lowered her front torso just enough that her massive tits, 
specifically her gigantic nipples, rubbed the surface of the flooring.

At this point, the new stripper needed release so badly that she could just 
scream.

Thus commenced a series of sexual and explicitly revealing poses that would 
have made any stripper envious. Each move was designed to extract more 
and more money from the energized crowd. Indeed, those men previously 
seated at the tables now stood all around the perimeter of the stage. There was 
an assortment of paper money in their hands.

Truly, the last lyrics gave unto Boom Boom the consummate skill of a 
stripper.

Each man wanted just the chance to touch Boom Boom's svelte legs as he 
tucked a bill underneath the garter. Each just wanted to be so close to her . . . 
to breathe her sweet floral scent.

Boom Boom indulged each patron in turn, and never missed the opportunity 
to rub suggestively up against each donor to her well being. That only got her 
more turned on than she already was!

Asterix winked a Comma, "Watch this!"

Asterix stuck a dollar bill into his mouth so that the majority stuck out into the 
air. He moved toward an opening in the crows at the stage.

"Rix!" Comma exasperated, in an futile attempt to stop him. He really was 
tempting fate now. "I don't think that . . . ."

It was too late. Asterix was already there.

When Boom Boom saw this, her reaction was immediate . . . instinctive. 
There was no hesitation whatsoever, a testament as to how far her essential 
nature had been altered from that of Burt.

"Hey, Baby!" she squealed in delight. Even Boom Boom's voice was 
changed from that of her previous female incarnation. Now it was a feather 
light, breathy soprano.

Her voice was the very heart and soul of a bimbo.

Boom Boom swiveled over to Asterix, and stuck her boobs in his face, so 
that the dollar bill lay between her deep cleavage. Boom Boom shook her 
shoulders so that the enormous amount of breast flesh jiggled against his 
cheeks, nose, and mouth.

Asterix could smell the petite, buxom girl's naturally sweet and intoxicating 
aroma.

Boom Boom reached up with her immaculately manicured hands, pushed her 
tits together, and trapped the prize in between. She dance away gracefully, 
extracting the monetary award as she did so.

The girl giggled once again, "Tee hee!"

The former Burt's mind was so diminished, and child-like, that she didn't see 
anything wrong with her actions. It seemed so right . . . so natural. Why else 
would she be built as she was?

He realized that she was nothing more than a bimbo to be ogled by men. 
However, it was okay with her. It made her so happy and warm inside to 
make others so happy. Boom Boom accepted her reason for being.

Lyrics issued from the jukebox once again, " . . . . everybody wants to see, 
see if she can use it!"

Those magical words worked a two part alteration, with the first being to the 
heavenly hootered young dancer. The second was to her growing, boisterous 
audience. This change to the former man was more biochemical than it was 
physical.

The tiny, yet large in places, girl's biochemistry altered such that it produced 
sweet smelling phermones in overwhelmingly copious amounts. In other 
words, the very smell of her made her quite irresistible to men . . . all men.

The stripper's very perspiration was a lethal weapon. However, internally it 
felt like hot, hot blood was running through her veins.

As such, each and every man within 50 feet of the transformed girl became 
drunk on her scent. It jacked up each man's testosterone level into the danger 
zone. Yes, the audience of male admirers were dunk on her erotic chemical 
essence, and now only desired to obtain the ultimate carnal knowledge from 
her. Their minds were awash with visual fantasies of writhing with her in 
everything from a bed of roses to . . . Jell-O?

Well . . . there was no accounting for taste!

Having observed Asterix's shining example, the men began to emulate him. 
They stuck paper money in their mouths . . . or other more suggestive places.

Boom Boom giddily wiggled, and danced, to each man in turn. Those bills 
that she did not remove with her melon-like mammaries, she obtained with 
her mouth. Those were usually restricted to waistbands on trousers or even 
open zippers.

She lingered just long enough to rub her smooth cheek, or the top of her head 
on each genital bulge. The crowd was in a state of literal hormonal frenzy.

Boom Boom's mystically altered biochemistry, drove the male of the species 
into a mating frenzy usually reserved for lower species. Much like salmon 
seeking to spawn. Each of the men would have gladly dashed themselves on 
sharp rocks . . . just to be close to her.

However, they wanted more than a mere touch . . . much, much more!

The juiced throng started to shift, as the elbowed or jockeyed for position at 
the stage. The shoving got so intense that Asterix was forced all of the back 
to the table with Comma.

"Damn. It's getting crazy up there!" blurted Asterix excitedly.

Comma only glared at his delivery partner. He knew from the start this meant 
trouble. The tension of the crowd was such that a good, old fashioned bar 
fight could erupt at any second. If they got busted in a bar fight, it drastically 
increased the odds of the old man finding out about all of this. That, 
unfortunately, would include their role in this passion play.

"What?" questioned Asterix, upon seeing Comma's facial expression.

"We have to get out of here before this turns ugly!" noted Comma.

"Nonsense. Everything's okay. Besides, I want to see the rest of the 
transformation because I've never seen anything so sexy in my entire life."

The two guys were so busy trading words that they missed the next set of 
lyrics from the song, "Legs."

"She's so fine . . . ." blared from the magical jukebox.

Time itself was still so bent at right angles that a song that was only a couple 
of minutes long seemed to go on forever. The elastic time warp 
accommodated the changes to reality, that occurred to everyone and 
everything within the ambit of the jukebox.

Outside, in the normal waking world, time passed quite normally.

Up on the stage, Boom Boom's facial features soften still further, so that she 
could become just as "fine" as the words to the song indicated. Once again, 
she felt the familiar tingling and tickling in the skin of her face.

Burt's now feminine face became even more feminine. Eyebrows became 
slender, delicate arches. Her lips grew thicker until they were full and bee-
stung, and adopted a slight pout to them. Cheek bones rose, as a slightly 
angular face adopted a heart shape. The girl's blue eyes got bigger, although 
the slightly lax eyelids gave her the appearance commonly called, "Bedroom 
eyes."

Her eyes shone as the lightest shade of blue, which made them haunting, 
piercing . . . penetrating. One look from those eyes would surely melt the 
coldest of cynical male hearts.

The former man's skin was now dewy and flawless with a slight rosy hue. 
Check that. There was minor "flaw," a beauty mark or small mole above her 
kissable lips. Her nose was small, upturned, and undeniably . . . cute.

The colors and textures of perfect, although slightly slutty, make up emerged 
upon the exquisite pallet of her face, as if it were being painted in by the 
hands of an invisible animator.

All in all, Boom Boom now had a face that would make even supermodels 
green with jealousy. Unfortunately, it was a face that looked like it never 
entertained an intelligent though. On the contrary, it was a face that told the 
world that the mind within harbored only one thought . . . that being sex.

If Helen of Troy's face was the one that launched a thousand ships, then this 
girl's face would surely have launched one hundred thousand ships. A 
million.

The former Burt's skin darkened to reflect a bronzed tan borne of the labor of 
countless hours lying in the sun. The exceptions, of course, were patches of 
white creamy skin at the tips of each breast, a line around the back, and lines 
up the top of the chest to each rounded shoulder. While she danced around, 
the tan lines of a skimpy string bikini formed on her skin.

Boopsie . . . for that was her name now, pranced around like this is the way 
that she had always been. The last words changed her name yet again, for 
Boom Boom only described two very prominent body parts. Boopsie was 
more of a description of the overall effect.

All of the men in the crowd literally swooned, swearing silently to themselves 
that THIS was the most beautiful woman they had ever seen.

Boopsie basked in the glow of the carnal adoration of these men. She loved 
this attention, thrilled to it, in fact, and knew intuitively THIS was her reason 
for being. Her dumbed down mind didn't want to anymore than what she 
was right now . . . the object of unbridled male lusts.

She raked her long, luxurious locks out of her new face with her manicured 
nails. It was a gesture as practiced, and as graceful, as any naturally born 
woman. Boopsie was so lovely that it was almost painful to gaze upon her . . 
. at least painful to one area of each and every male body. That area, to a 
man, was swollen to the point of bursting.

It went without saying that each of those men wanted to stick that particular 
swollen member into her. Stains started to appear on the front of a portion of 
those mens' trousers . . . the ones who couldn't control their arousal.

It only made the next line of the song that much worse!

" . . . . she's all mine."

Those mere syllables twisted the minds of all who gazed upon the face and 
form of Boopsie. For that matter, it changed the minds of all of those who 
would EVER gaze upon Boopsie. All were compelled to possess her . . . at 
any cost! It was no passing fancy wither. It was a mania, a burning passion 
that was bordering on obsession.

The men needed, more than life itself, to own her, to control her, to dominate 
her, and to love her. It was like no other all-consuming emotion they had ever 
felt, nor would likely ever encounter again. Such intense sexual compulsion 
is a powerful drug, indeed.

So much so, that her face would haunt their wet dreams until the did possess 
her.

The giggly, jiggly exuberance of the young stripper began to wane under the 
heat of the stares of the men. She felt like prey before a ravenous pack of 
wolves driven by blood lust. Those literal, and figurative, wolves may just as 
well have had snapping, slobbering maws!

Her aspect was that of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. 
The men fought among themselves for position in the pecking order.

A shiver of fear traveled up and down the former Burt's spine. It set her 
luscious tits to quivering like a bowl . . . a massive bowl . . . full of Jell-O. 
Goose flesh rose on her tanned skin, and the hackles on the back of her 
swan-like neck were standing on end.

However, nanoseconds later, even that fear was dispelled!

The lead singer of ZZ Top sang out the words, "The girl is all right."

Boopsie's mind shifted ever so lightly in response to those arcane lyrics. Not 
only was she . . . okay . . . with the prospect of being utterly possessed and 
dominated by a man, but she kind of liked the idea of it. She wouldn't ever, 
ever have to worry about anything again. Whatever guy she was with would 
tell her what to do, how to act, how to dress, and even how to have sex.

It was just so easy that she let it all go. 

Boopsie wanted . . . no needed . . . to be overpowered by a man. She needed 
to have every facet of her life dictated by a man. Her mind bent so that she 
had a carnal craving to be manhandled by a guy . . . to be used and abused by 
him.

She was soooo submissive now.

She looked into the ravening mob and promptly . . . snickered?

"Tee hee," she squealed, while her mindless grin resumed. Not one man, she 
thought, I want lotsa guys . . .an' maybe at the same time!

Even Boopsie's internal though voice was now most definitely female.

The danger of the situation made Boopsie's huge nipples swell to twice their 
already erect size. The honey in her cunny flowed like sweet wine. She was 
actually drawn to the peril of the boiling, overheated circumstances.

If the crowd was indeed a pack of hungry wolves then she was just the bitch. 
Therefore, she naturally did what any bitch would do . . . assume the 
submissive pose or position for entry. Boopsie got down on her hands and 
knees. She lowered her shoulders more and more until her engorged nipples 
again touched the surface of the flooring.

The contact alone sent lightning bolts of pleasure up and down her spine. 
Slowly, ever so slowly, she inched forward so that those nipples scraped on 
the floor. Boopsie let out a low groan, that strangely enough was not like the 
howl of a bitch in heat. Unfortunately, this tactile stimulation of her areolae 
were not enough to give her relief for which she yearned.

Ultimately, Boopsie positioned herself such that her shapely derriere faced 
the crowd, while her head faced the rear wall. She lowered her shoulder and 
face all the way to the floor, so that her face actually touched the floor. Her 
long, thick hair flowed up her back to her head, only to be splayed out over 
the floor of the stage.

Her gigantic boobs were smashed in between the flooring and her chest. It 
hurt. However, at this point, Boopsie didn't much care. She was so far gone 
from her former self that all she wanted to do was turn the guys on.

As if she could possibly inflame them any further!

Nevertheless, she thrust up her delicious bottom in the most suggestive pose 
that she could muster. It was devastatingly formidable, and done without 
thinking about it. It just seemed . . . the thing to do. She wiggled her bottom 
once or twice, just for effect.

If music from the non-lyrical part of "Legs" hadn't been playing, you could 
have literally heard droplets of drool hitting the stage from the agape mouths 
of the spectators. It was quite a sight to behold.

Even from her vantage point, under a cloak of dense hair, Boopsie could feel 
the searing heat of the stares of the men. She drank in that heat as if she had 
frost bite. She wanted more . . . much more!

Therefore, she put the final nail in their collective coffins. While she kept her 
odd balance with one arm and hand stretched out in front of her, the other 
deftly undid the G-string. Boopsie slid the G-string down her silky smooth 
legs to her knees.

Her glistening, dripping honey pot was exposed for all to see. It was shaved 
quite barren.

There was a gasp from the collective male patronage, as each struggled to 
catch their breath. The beauteous sight that met their eager eyes left them 
breathless. And, if that move stole their breath, the next stole away their very 
soul.

Boopsie gently fingered the moist pink lips of her newly transformed sex. 
She stroked it longingly, lingeringly, enjoying the electric feel of it. The 
depth of her moans increased, but they were drowned out by ZZ Top's 
booming guitars. A second later, she spread those lips for her admirers 
viewing delight. NOTHING was left to their imagination.

The brand spanking new stripper started to grind her sweet pussy into her 
hand, even as one finger found its way into the steaming canal. Boopsie's 
slick finger moved in and out of her sex with but the slightest slurping sound. 
That too was drowned out by the music. However, the girl herself could hear 
it.

THAT was music to her ears.

Asterix and Comma looked at each other with a stunned expression. They 
looked back to the stage where they saw the man reduced into a brainless 
bimbo finger fucking herself from the rear. The ex-Burt was grinding her tits 
into the floor.

Comma, the more sensible of the two, spoke first. There was just the 
slightest hint of panic. "Oh brother! I can't believe that we did this to that 
poor man. He looked like he was an okay kind of a guy. He certainly didn't 
deserve to become THAT!"

He gestured toward the writhing nymphet on stage, but then twisted his head 
sideways to truly scrutinize the feminized victim.

He added, before Asterix could respond, "She sure does like she's having 
fun though."

His comment made Asterix defensive. "We didn't do anything to him.. We 
just set up the magic jukebox. He . . . or rather she, picked the song. It was 
her own stupid choice that did it. He could have picked "Sharp Dressed 
Man," and he wouldn't be in this mess. He got what he deserved for picking 
such a sexist song!"

Comma chimed in with a timely observation. "He chose three songs didn't 
he? We'd better go see what else he . . . er, she . . . played. This could get 
even worse."

"I don't see how it could possibly get even worse. I'll check anyway, 
though. Hopefully she played a song that'll get her back to normal."

"At least something to leave her in a better condition than she is now. Now 
that I think about it, have you noticed that we're the only ones who remember 
who she really is, or was?"

"I did. I think it's because we know the true nature of the jukebox. It makes 
us immune from its effects somehow."

Both Comma and Asterix arose from the table at the same time. It prompted 
Asterix to inquire, "Where are you going?"

"To tell Andy the true nature of the machine. If we end up leaving it here, he 
should at least know what it is. That way he'll be immune, and be able to 
monitor it somewhat. Either way, he should make the choice to keep it or 
not."

"Comma . . . ." Asterix started to whine.

"Not one fucking word," his companion warned. "You've gotten us into this 
mess, and changed a good man into a slut. Andy chooses, and that's final. 
Now go see what Burt's other two selections are. I just hope he made good 
choices that will save our asses."

Asterix, properly chastised, stalked off to the jukebox. 

Whilst the two SRU deliverymen completed their separate tasks, the jukebox 
repeated the first stanza of the song "Legs." There were only minor variation 
in the song, which served to solidify the metamorphosis to Burt. Those new 
words did add an urge to party, along with a few bad habits like smoking and 
an affinity for drugs. The later would provide a drain for any money Boopsie 
earned, guaranteeing that she would stay just as she now was.

As such, the time stream returned to normal. The song "Legs" was just 
fading away, leaving a dizzy, naked (except for the garter and stack high 
heels) bimbo, in the throes of an orgasm upon the stage. 

Asterix and Comma met back up at the bar where the erotic odyssey first 
began.

Comma shook his head, commenting, "Unbelievable. Andy wants to keep 
the damned thing, even knowing what it is. He says business has never been 
so good. After I told him, he even remembered that Boopsie used to be Burt. 
It doesn't seem to matter to him. Says he'll take care of her, and watch over 
the jukebox . . . ."

Comma was so caught up in his own dissertation that he didn't even notice 
that Asterix was as white as a ghost.

"What?" asked Comma, very concerned. "Tell me good news."

The opening notes of a new song came over the speakers. It was familiar to 
Comma, but he just couldn't place it. It was another ZZ Top song.

"T-the next two songs," stammered Asterix.

"Yeah?"

"I-it's Tube Snake Boogie' followed by Pearl Necklace.' It just got worse."

Comma's eyes widened as the full ramifications of the next two songs 
dawned upon him. Not only was Burt stuck as Boopsie, but she was about to 
acquire some perverse sexual appetites.

When he glanced upon the stage, the small, busty blonde already had a guy 
up there with her, and seated on a chair. The man, who they both instantly 
recognized as Jack, had an engorged, rigid cock standing at full attention. 

Boopsie's tiny hand closed over it, pulling it free from its confines. She 
stroked it vigorously to the cheers of the crowd, for they wanted to be next.

If time was just as prolonged in this song as it was in the last, they might well 
get their chance!

"Let's get out of here before the old man catches us," suggested Comma 
excitedly.

"Y-yeah," Asterix readily agreed this time.

Both of the deliverymen dove for the front door. They couldn't resist one last 
look at the stage.

What they saw there would be burned into their memories. It would haunt 
their dreams. Boopsie's eyes were rolled back into her head, in ecstasy, as 
she went down on Jack. Her pretty head bobbed up and down, taking him 
deeper and deeper. She flipped her long, long hair out of her face, and over 
her shoulder for all to see her oral skill. Boopsie's humongous tits swayed 
enticingly back and forth in time with her bobbing head.

**********

Back at the SRU shop, the old man smiled into the scrying mirror. He'd seen 
many transformations of men into bimbos in his tenure as proprietor of the 
store. None were as graphic or as stimulating as the one he just witnessed.

He would have to personally thank his employees for a good show when 
they got back.

In any case, Harry's special order had finally made its way to its proper home 
in The Roadhouse. It was a tragedy that Harry wasn't around to see it 
himself, as it had been constructed to his exact specifications.

Modifications of Ulysses' music box from ancient mythology into a CD 
jukebox took some time to accomplish. The music box being one of the lesser 
know myths where Ulysses captured the siren song within the confines of an 
enchanted music box. The old man just couldn't resist adding his own special 
magic to its mystical power. 

In any case, Harry's nephew Andy was putting the music box to good use.

The old man made a mental note to pick up a ZZ Top CD. For some 
unknown reason, the song "Legs" stuck in his head. He imagined that it 
would for some time!

FIN