Someone wanted to know what happened to Mizti. Okay, this happened. If you take the time to read this, please vote and you know how I love comments!--VM
"That the one? The little redhead showin' attitude?"
Lee-Ann nodded to the bartender. "That's her, Shelly, the target for tonight. So next time she comes over for a drink, you make sure a squirt from this little bottle goes in, okay?"
The mohawked and pierced woman behind the bar looked dubious. "I'm tempted to say 'no' and give you back the money but maybe you have a good reason for this?"
"It's an intervention. If we don't, she'll turn into her mother, overweight, dried out, overbearing and bitchy. You want to be responsible for that?"
"Uh—no. Little bottle in the drink. You got it."
Earlier that evening Mitzi Forsyth had looked herself up and down in the mirror. She pulled the scoop neck of her sweater down a little more and the waistband of her miniskirt up. With her hair in a page boy bob and knee boots, she was set for Friday night.
Damn, girl, you are
hot
!
She was thoroughly proud of herself and, she mused, deservedly so. Most of her old high school gang had all turned mythic—compelling satyrs and placidly compliant nymphs—but not her. Any guy who got into her pants did so because she stalked him, not the other way around. It had not been easy, especially at first, but once she developed the habit of fleeing at the first scent cinnamon, nutmeg and apple floating through the air and staying away from men with full beards and profuse arm hair, young Ms Forsyth had gotten through the summer and into college still 'normal' and still fully in control.
The attitude mystified her friends and they wondered where she got it. Mitzi couldn't care less. She had been the wild child of a rather staid family and now that she was away at college, (to her father's relief and her mother's annoyance), she intended to do just what she wanted. And what she wanted was to play the field and join the hook-up crowd.
She stepped out into the hall where a small group of coeds was clustered. One of them turned to her. "Hi, Mitzi. We're having a hard time deciding where to go. Right now it's a tie between the ones who want to head to the Shimmering Mink and the ones who just want a bar crawl."
"What's the Shimmering Mink?"
"It's a gay and lesbian bar. The drinks are good, the band is good and you can dance all night without worrying about some Neanderthal hitting on you."
Mitzi curled her lip. "Maria, guys don't hit on me. I hit on them! Any sexual predation in my neighborhood starts with me. But this place does sound interesting. At least I think I can count on there not being any satyrs in the area."
The girls looked at one and other. "You know," Maria spoke up, "I don't think that has ever come up. Just how has the
Trematoda
affected the GLBT community?"
"So long as they don't try to affect me, I really don't care. I like being 'normal' and I like being in charge!"
Giggling and chattering, the group headed down the hall, down the stairs and into town. At least, most of them did. Tanya Lopez had been leaning on the doorpost of her room taking it all in. As the gaggle vanished down the corridor she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.
"Hey, Tanya."
"Hey, yourself, Lee-Ann. She took the bait."
"Cool. I'll tell the gang. Meet us upstairs at the Mink. I'll get with the barkeep and let her know to be expecting them. She's already got the hypnotic under the bar. Once Mitzi downs it and gets all suggestible, Maria will take her up to the 'banquet' room and the party can begin."
"Chicka-boom, Chicka-boom, don't ya jes' love it . . ."
"You got it Tanya. See you there."
*****
The Shimmering Mink turned out to be an Art Deco building in the old part of town. After falling into disrepair in the mid-twentieth century, it had been lovingly refurbished and was now the social center of the Granite Falls GLBT community. Tonight it was full and rocking.
Mitzi was impressed. "Maria, this is soooo cool! And that band, what do they call themselves?"
"Butter Side Down. Don't ask me why, it's just a name. Usually they're a swing band but tonight it's Oldies Friday so expect Classic Rock."
The women sidled their way over to the bar, picked up some drinks and then worked their way out onto the dance floor.
*****
Back at the Corbett household Amelia gazed thoughtfully at her daughter's text message. She was somewhat conflicted. While she had grave doubts as to the ethics of forcing Mitzi's metamorphosis into nymph-hood, she knew the Forsyths well enough to understand her daughter's action. Ethel Forsyth was just the kind of strident, bossy woman Philip Wylie had so scathingly depicted in
A Generation of Vipers
seventy years before. The thought that cute little Mitzi might be headed down the same path was not to be borne. As for her poor husband, Eugene, the man had been so beaten down over the years that "Yes, dear" was almost all that was left of his vocabulary these days.
I wonder what the chances of catching him alone are, she mused. Surely they must still have sex at least once in a while. If I managed to surreptitiously implant the flukes in him and he passed them onto her before either of them was aware of it, the neighborhood might have a happier couple—and a more fun one, too.
A slow, calculating smile spread across Amelia's features.
*****
Back at the Shimmering Mink Mitzi was sitting at the bar for the fourth time, looking over the drinks list. "What's a Screaming Orgasm—the drink, I mean?"
Shelly looked at her sideways from behind the bar. "It's a layered cocktail with four or five ingredients. Pretty potent."
"Really. How potent?"
"An ounce and half of high octane liqueurs and cream. I have a special version of my own I could make you if you want."
"Very special?"
"Oh, yes. But you have to ask for it."
"Okay, then. Shelly, I would like one of your special Screaming Orgasm's please."
"Just as you say."
And with that, all my moral qualms are soothed. She did ask for it, after all, and didn't even ask what made it special
.
The pale green hypnotic floated between the Bailey's Irish Cream and the Amaretto. It leant an exotic look to the drink, and the slightest scent of cinnamon and nutmeg. Mitzi took a sip. She had heard that layered drinks were supposed to be drunk one level at a time through the straw. She figured she'd just taste each one in turn but the green level was—different! It made her feel kind of—cozy was the best word she could come up with. Carefully aiming the base of the straw at the green level, she sucked it all out.
On the next stool over Maria almost had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. This was going better than any of them had hoped. Lee-Ann had said that the hypnotic worked fairly fast when consumed with a cocktail and amazingly fast if you took it straight. Mitzi had inadvertently taken it with hardly any mixing at all. All Maria had to do was wait about a minute. So she did.
"Lot of hot-looking guys here, tonight, huh Mitzi?"
Mitzi looked around. She had not thought of them that way but her friend had a point. All the gay and bi-guys did look hot. Even the ones she would normally avoid, the obvious satyrs.
"Yeah, you're right. 'Sa shame they're aren't interested in women."
"We could find some. In fact, I know just where some hot guys who'd be hot for you are, right now. You come with me."
That seemed like a really good idea to Mitzi so she let Maria take her by the wrist and lead her to a screened stairway to the upper floor. Behind them the band struck up Daddy DewDrop's "Boom Chicka Boom."
At the top of the stairs, Lee-Ann met them and kissed each of them on the cheek.
"Here, Mitzi, you need to wear these." She wrapped a sturdy, padded leather cuff around each of the girl's wrists.
"I do?"
"You do."
The two nymphs pulled Mitzi into the room and locked the door behind her. Mitzi looked around in surprise. All her friends from high school were here. And then her eyes widened. All the men had hair to their second knuckles and heavy beards. The women were all suspiciously voluptuous. Her friends were all mythics.
"What . . .?"
"It's a party, Mitzi," May Ogilvie leered at her, "a metamorphosis party. Your metamorphosis, in fact."
