Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Joanie's life becomes a three-ring circus in chapter 11, can she survive? Please note: no Canadians were hurt in the making of this chapter.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction
This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,
(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."
This is my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece. Gentle, constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for pure fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which gets me off the hook! Don’t yah love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA. Frankly their moto should read, ‘They get better.’
By John from Wauwatosa
Chapter 11- Halloween, the Press, Field Tripping for Dummies part 1
Madison WI, October 31 to November 10, 2006
December 13, 2006 on the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle, 9:25am EST
Dear diary/journal/whatever, gee dear diary sounds awfully girly don’t it? Oh yah, I’m one now, giggle. That last giggle was deliberate, but still I do giggle so these days, and it’s not as if I’m an airhead. Sara’s tests show I’m smarter, learn faster and have a near perfect memory, part and parcel of the exemplar package. It’s been a huge help in coping with all the changes. The giggling still bugs me though. Everything from having a female brain, to the stress of my transformation, to “It’s a girl thing” was suggested. The simplest answer is the one I believe, I’m happy. Even after all the possible threats to my freedom and existence and the necessary isolation from my old friends and family, I’m happy. I’m healthy, that’s an understatement, young, attractive and my body is sooo um, responsive. I’ve got these cool, sorry Mel, kewl powers, some great new friends in Madison and Iowa, I saved a precious someone’s life, and I get to go to this strange and interesting school. Nothing will get me down now; I won’t let it, not even the memories of last Halloween; Ghod I hate Canadians. Okay just these Canadians, better?
* * * *
Monona Terrace Convention Center, Madison WI
October 31, 2006 Halloween
Cue music: ‘It’s Money that I Love’ Randy Neumann
Warner’s agreed to record it in Madison; this eased my security concerns. The release was set for November first with a big party, the only one we could agree to, held on Halloween at the Monona Terrace convention center. Warners wanted NYC or LA but agreed the Frank Lloyd Wright designed building was perfect. The party was a blast, many top artists and VIPs were flown in, Warners sparing no expense. It was like Christmas and a birthday rolled into one; I was amazed at all the famous people that came and a little frightened.
~Suck it up girl, time to schmooze the crowd, ~ I kept telling myself.
I wore my signature leathers, erotic but not slutty and was baring a lot of skin -- hey sex sells. They even flew in a live band comprised of top secession musicians, many who’d worked on the CD. Several members of MSG were here in costume to help emphasize the charitable angle and the drinks were flowing.
I didn’t know about the live singing prior to the announcement at the party. I thought I was there to smile and mingle while they handed out promo copies.
I was surprised when Mr. Karaoke announced, “And now as a special treat, Joanie will sing a few songs.”
“Thanks for telling me now.” There was polite laughter. “Since they were so nice and didn’t make me tour I suppose I can do a couple.”
We did several from the CD, the crowd was enthusiastic. I think they expected lip syncing, but we did it all live, and it must have sounded good. Then I gave them two songs we’d recorded but not used on the CD.
“I’d like to do two more then call it a night. First a sentimental love song, ‘It’s Money that I Love’ by Randy Neumann,” that got some chuckles as it’s a very satirical piece. We did the number perfectly, we rocked. “For my last song there will be a short pause while I put this on,” I held up a very blond wig, “as I need it to like get into character, whatever.” We launched into ‘Valley Girl’ by Frank Zappa; I spoke Val-speak like a native.
I was well into the dumb blond routine when armed men rushed the stage and held us hostage. The crowd thought it was a stunt until they fired at the floor to ceiling windows, blowing some out. There was little we could do; they were spread too far apart for the MSG or security to stop a once. I didn’t dare use my time-stop as I couldn’t be sure they were all in range; if any weren’t, the consequences were lethal. They must have seen the vids of Mel’s rescue because they Tazered me and dragged me away. I was tied, blindfolded and hustled to a waiting speedboat on Lake Monona while some stayed behind as a diversion. I learned MSG and security overcame them quickly with no harm to anyone but not in time for me. I was transferred to a van and driven around town, then dumped inside a solid concrete room -- must have been an old factory or warehouse. I woke chained tight to a wall.
“What is it with you villain types and abandoned factories, it’s so cliché?” I was pissed and not thinking strait, clever repartee this was not.
A man in a preppy suit walked up and slapped me hard in the face, brave man as I was chained, four goons training guns on me.
“Quiet, Joanie, I’ll do the talking, you listen. I’m with the Canadian Revolutionary Army of Patriots, and you’re helping us, you decadent American blonde-bimbo.” These were fighting words.
~He called me a blonde? Death is too good for him. ~
“You may speak, slave.”
“No disrespect, but I’m not a blonde or a bimbo, and let’s get real, Canadian terrorists? Plus the acronym of your group is CRAP. I demand to be abducted by real terrorists, not rejects from Second City.”
I was trying to get them to do something stupid. I hoped I was a quick healer, a regen, like Sara said, and I hoped the radio tracer in my boot was still working. I was chained and couldn’t break free unless I could get the key, then freeze them.
“You’re stalling for time.” He hit me harder than before, I could taste blood. “Tazer her, strip her, then tie her up. She probably has a tracer on her.”
~Damn, the high Hoser honcho has a least three working brain cells. ~
As I passed out, I thought; ~That’s strange, repartee always worked for James Bond. ~
I woke naked, sore and spread eagled on a steel table, my arms and legs tied down painfully. They may claim to be Canadian, but they were true bastards. I was scared, seriously scared. I knew a kidnapping could happen but had put it out of my mind.
“Who’s laughing now, Bitch? Sorry, my manners, you’re a whore and a bitch and a real strawberry blonde, I see. I apologize for the blonde remark, very rude of me.” He waited. “I said I was sorry, why don’t you answer back? Oh, that’s right; I had my associates gag you. I suppose you want to know what we intend. Blink once for yes, twice for no.” I blinked once.
~When I get free, this man is toast. I mean real toast, I intend to broil him alive, then cover him in butter and jam; I just have to decide on the flavor. ~
I amazed myself, here I’m thinking of my silly comic revenge and not cowering in fear though I was afraid.
~A side effect of my mutation? My confidence in general is way up; the sexual romp during the road trip was proof of that. ~
“After we take a few photos and send them over the Internet, your buyers will arrange pickup and payment. Just to make certain we’re doing a test before we do. Our sources say you heal very quickly -- perhaps you do. I can see no cuts or bruises on you, but our customer demands proof. He shot a few photos, the pervert. “Number one,” he called to a goon to my left, “break both her legs.”
He came at me with a piece of rusty pipe.
~Oh shit! ~
“MMGFFFS!” was all I could manage.
“What did you say, I couldn’t hear? Break both my hands too? OKAY, if that’s what you want, you sure are a kinky girl.”
The goon swung the pipe hard. The pain was indescribable, fortunately I passed out. I woke to the sound of gunfire then a wall of my cell burst open, it was Red. She ripped the table from the floor and carried it and me to freedom. She untied the gag, then carefully broke my restraints, I was free.
“How are you feeling, Joanie?”
“Very sore, tired and hungry; how are my hands and feet, Red? They started smashing them with a pipe, then I fainted.” I was still in some shock.
~This is strange, why am I so calm and clearheaded? ~
“I can’t see any obvious injuries, there’s dried blood on the table, but you look fine -- you sure it’s your blood?”
“Sure I’m sure, you’d think I’d make up something like this?” I was so upset I forgot myself, sat up and got off. “Hey, I feel alright, no pain, Red.” That’s when I saw the press photographers and TV cameras. “Um, Red, honey, thanks for the rescue and all, but do you think you can get me some clothes or maybe a blanket? I seem to be naked here, not that it won’t give my record sales a boost.”
Red quickly moved between me and the cameras and got a Mylar space blanket out of her bandoleer -- a utility belt is just so Batman -- and wrapped it around me. I grabbed a length of the ropes she’d removed and made a belt.
I was feeling very angry. “Give me a moment, Red.”
“Uh, you’re not going to do something foolish are you, Joanie?”
“Maybe yes, maybe no,” I walked as dignified as one can wearing a crinkling orange and silver space blanket wrapped around them like some bizarre beach towel. With hindsight it seemed more a parody of the classic LBD.
-- Note to self: You know with the addition of a breathable fabric lining, it might just work. I’ll have call Gin about it someday. --
Sorry, back to my story. I got up close to the press who started acting worried. The clicking of cameras slowed then stopped for the most part.
“Um,” I purred in my sexiest voice, “did you folks get some good ‘candid’ shots of me?” I turned to a couple of guys with big telephoto lenses. “Get any ... ‘beaver’ shots did we.” They looked very guilty. “I should ask for all the film, drives, recording media, or whatever or better yet smash your cameras, but this is a public place. However my tall redheaded friend over there,” I pointed to an extremely angry looking Big Red, “might have ideas of her own.”
~They look like they are about to ... YES, success ... wet their pants. I have got to find out how Red does that. ~
As the stains spread, I spoke. “I’ll ask you to do this then, would you please use only the more ‘G’ rated images? If anyone forgets, there better be fat checks donated to the American Cancer Society in my name, or I will sue. Given my looks, I think a jury might considerer this as attempted child porn, and there’s always the option of civil suites. Remember that my chief legal advisor is a United States Senator. Do we have an understanding?” Everyone nodded. “Good. Oh, and boys, I expect 8 x 10 glossies of every photo taken of me today, and I do mean all of them. I’m making a scrapbook, four of each should do. Mail them to MSG in care of my friend Red; you all know the address, ta ta!” I turned and walked jiggling and crinkling with Red to a waiting ambulance. “Red, once I get cleaned up, we’re going to the Chinese, I’m starving.”
She looked at me and shook her head, I could see the signs of her arousal straining through her top.
~Have I got it or what? Now if I can just keep folks from trying to steal it. ~
* * * *
They got the kidnapers but couldn’t get a handle on the buyer. They still don’t have them; they’re part of why I’m on this train. At the mutant wing, Sara insisted on x-rays, an MRI and lots of blood work, while Alex and my pals at MSG analyzed the blood and hair stuck to the pipe and other physical evidence. I was ravenously hungry, so Carrie got me some energy bars and sport drinks to help replace what I lost.
“You are one tough girl, Joanie. The tissue, blood and hair stuck to the pipe and the blood and gouge marks on the table are consistent with vicious, crushing blows, yet Dr. Sara says the x-rays and MRI show no evidence you were ever injured. From the digital photos your captors took, they broke both your legs, broke your right wrist and nearly severed the fingers on your left hand. The photos made me sick to look at them. You have The Cranberry Kid and Glacier Girl to thank for locating you. They homed in your backup transmitter; it was very low power, so you were hard to find,” said Alex.
“Backup transmitter?” I asked.
“Why’d you think GG gave you that rather too friendly hug just before you left for the promo?” Carrie answered.
“She wanted to cop a feel?” I suggested. GG is sweet but sometimes too ‘playful’ for my confused tastes.
“She planted a dermal patch transmitter on you. Nearly invisible, the trade-off is low power and short lifespan. It lasted just long enough,” replied Carrie.
“I thought I had an odd itch near my crotch, but did she have to place it there?”
“Would you think to search there? Be glad she didn’t shove it up your ...“
“I get the picture, Carrie.” Ewh! She left Alex and me alone.
“Some good’s come of this; we know you’re a higher level regen than we estimated. You’re a four or five at least; we’ll go into that another time. Carrie brought some clothes for you, so have a shower, get dressed and go out and get something to eat, okay, Joanie?” I was feeling unsure of myself, I think he noticed. “Joanie, if it helps the police and those MSG present say the same, you saved lives by not resisting.”
“I couldn’t do anything, I didn’t know were they all were, then they Tazered me. I felt helpless.”
“You weren’t at first, but even if you’d time stopped the ones near you, some terrorists were beyond your effective range. They would have soon noticed your attempt and reacted by killing innocents. You did good, Joanie; you took the bullet for them.” I cheered up, Alex often had this effect on me, but why were my nipples suddenly so stiff? He answered a quick phone call.
“Red says she has news about your abductors as soon as you’re dressed. She’ll tell you over some Chinese, and Joanie?” Alex asked.
“Yes, Alex?” I loved it when he talked to me.
~Oooh. Ghod I’m hot for my Doctor! ~
“I heard how you handled the press. If you don’t mind, can I have some of those candid 8X10 glossies? Whoa Momma!” Alex exclaimed.
~How dare he. ~
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’ll think about it.” I thought for one second. “Okay.”
~Dr. Hunk likes me. ~
The thought of him ogling my nude pictures made my panties wet. I was very confused and aroused. Alex grinned like he’d won first prize. He’d come very close to winning my cherry. I was on the edge.
“I suppose you’ll want them personalized, something like ‘Thanks for a great BIG time, Alex, lover” signed Joanie with little xxxxs after my name?” I fought to stay in control. I left the room before he could answer, or I ripped off his clothes. Warning hormone alert to Defcon Five!
“Joanie,” Red said discretely as we ate MSG’s favorite Chinese buffet, “Carrie and Gin are assisting the police in questioning your hosts. A little hocus pocus here by Gin and an empathic suggestion there from Carrie, and they’ll sing like canaries. If they don’t, GG and I can break something.” I snickered. “Meantime, what do we do about you, girl? You are becoming one serious security nightmare.” She smiled; it made her look so sexy.
~Ghod I am horny today. ~
“Tell me about it. “ My panties were damp again.
~Damn, I just changed those. ~
“It wasn’t totally unexpected, Red. I’ve got some feelers out on better security or safer locations. One intrigues me: heard of a private boarding school called Whateley Academy?”
“Aren’t Dr. Sara and Dairy Maid alumna? Glacier Girl is taking on-line courses from them, I think. It’s in New England?”
“Near Dunwich, New Hampshire, a couple hours train ride from downtown Boston. Sara says it’s pretty good, and Dr. Otto of ARC swears by the place,” I explained.
“It’s a college prep school for mutants; you’re not a teenager, Joanie.”
“Look closely at me, Red. If I don’t dress right and wear all the bangles, makeup, and boots, how old do I look?” The lights came on bright in her regal head.
“Ghod, how can I forget? You can pass for sixteen or seventeen, maybe even fifteen without much effort -- younger still if your breasts weren’t so well developed. It was hard to make you much more that twenty even with all the leather, make up and boots,” she said excitedly.
“But Sara said that it costs a bundle.”
“I can believe it, imagine all the damage hundreds of mutant teenagers away from home for the first time can do or just hundreds of normal teenagers,” I offered.
“Holy liability uncapped ingénue!”
“Narrowly escaped copyright infringement there, Red, but it‘s true enough. Most Whateley students either have massive scholarships, whopping great grants, or fabulously fat fortunes. Sorry about the embellishment, but it felt so good.” I said with a satisfied smile. “Got a cigarette?”
“I know, Joanie, bad English is addictive. I’m in a twelve-step program myself, Adverbs Anonymous,” Red said straight-faced then stick out her tongue. We broke up laughing.
“Gee, Red, you sure do turn red when you blush.” On our way to her place I told her my financial plan, it took my mind off my urges. “I’ll need a ton of cash for Whateley and to beef up my personal security. That’s why I agreed to the recording contract -- that and to repay what you and my friends at MSG have done.”
“That’s not necessary, and you know it. They did the same for me; you’ll do the same for someone else,” Red said almost insulted.
“No, Red, I value what you and the others did for me as friends. It’s sad to say but some things take cold hard cash, and now I’m in a position to help. This is a supplement to my personal commitments, not a replacement.”
“So you’re not buying our friendship?” Red said mischievously.
“Heaven forbid, Red. If I wanted to buy your friendship, I wouldn’t use cash.” She looked at me like Spock from classic Star Trek. “I’d do this. “
I leapt onto her wrapping my arms around her neck and shoulders, my legs around her waist and played tonsil hockey with her for a minute or so -- I wasn’t counting. I released her from my embrace, straightened my clothes, and walked calmly as if nothing happened. We walked in silence for a few minutes.
“Joanie, let’s stop at that convenience store.”
“’Cause I need to buy two thirty pound bags of ice for the bath I need.”
“That good, huh?”
“My pleasure, Red.”
“Ah, Joanie, we were talking about Whateley and your plan to pay for it before you so pleasantly interrupted,” Red said like a lecturer.
“Sorry, but I needed it. It’s strange but despite the kidnapping, assault and baring my genitals on TV well ...”
“Well, what is it, Joanie?”
“I’m feeling so ... aroused.”
“You know, hot to trot, primed and ready to go, all systems horny,” I admitted playfully.
“That bad, huh?” she was interested, very.
“I’ve been like this all day, if anything it’s getting stronger. I nearly raped Dr. Alex, and he knows I used to be a man.”
“So were talking fifty pound bags for your bath then?” Red joked.
“I’m so surprised; you’d think sex would be the last thing on my mind after all that,” I said honestly.
“Some people do react oddly to stress, but I wonder. When was the last time you felt like this?” I thought for a moment.
“About four weeks ago.”
“When did your last period start? “ Red asked.
“A little over three weeks ... You don’t mean?”
~No, no, not me. No way. This is insane. ~
“Uh huh, could be,” Red said in a sympathetic tone.
“I have got to see Sara. I mean every girl has the right to be a nymphomaniac once and a while but every 28 days? My sister will never let me live this down. Oh no, I just thought of something else. Call Sara on your cell, I need to see her now!”
* * * *
“What’s worrying you Joanie, Red said you needed to see me ASAP, “ asked Dr. Sara
“I’ve had this recurring problem every 28 days since my transformation.”
“Your period’s causing discomfort?”
“My periods a nuisance sure, it’s what happens a few days before that’s the problem. I get ... well I feel like ... it’s kind of embarrassing, Sara,” I said, and started to blush.
“Your sex drive increases, Joanie?” I nodded while pointing at the ceiling and whistling.
“That’s very common, nothing to worry.”
“You don’t understand, it’s like I’m a different person. I nearly raped Alex today; it took everything I had not to knock him to the ground and screw him to death right there, I needed it so,” I said in all honesty.
“I’d put you on the pill to regulate your cycle and ease the symptoms, but your system would react to the hormones like any other drug, so it wouldn’t be effective. We can try biofeedback, relaxation techniques or behavior modification -- they may help, Joanie.”
“Any other options?” I asked.
“A practical one, lots of self stimulation when the urges get bad. Get a vibrator, several, and lots of batteries” I snickered nervously. “I’m serious, Joanie; a good series of orgasms should take the edge off your cravings. If they don’t, hey you’ve had some fun.” How she kept from laughing, I don’t know.
“Could be inconvenient at times, but I’ve no objections, though the neighbors might --- I’m kind of loud.” Sara cringed as we lived in the same building. “Any more ideas?” I asked.
“The only other one is to get into a long-term relationship with an understanding partner, a very understanding and athletic partner, and buy lots of condoms. Do that in any case as normal birth control won’t work for you. We could try an IUD, but they have problems too, and your body might just expel it.”
“Great Doc, so I’m Miss Easy Bake Oven, what else?” I said sardonically.
“One sure cure, pregnancy, well not really, as many women crave sex more after the first few weeks. Whether is due to hormones and/or psychological we’re not completely sure but at least you can’t get any more pregnant unless you’re a kangaroo, which you’re not.”
“Very funny, Sara, my other concern hit me when I remembered a piece of TG fiction I read. I have a hymen, right?” She’d given me a though gynecological exam after my recovery, that was different. Not your usual “turn your head and cough.”
“Yes most girls have one, but it’s not a true proof of virginity. It can tear in sports competition or by incorrectly inserting a tampon. In some girls, it’s flexible and simply moves out of the way, only being lost in childbirth. I hear such women are very sought after in the sex trade.”
“I see what you mean. To quote a favorite film of yours, ‘you’ll be t’rrifically popular’.
“This must be some divine cosmic joke. Every time I have sex with a man I’ll be a virgin, a perpetually nymphomanical virgin. Ha ha ho ho how funny; Joanie, every brothel owner’s dream.” I said, my words dripping sarcasm.
“All the more reason to be careful, Joanie, but its not all bad news.”
“Thought your regen powers make you permanently fertile, your actual fertile days are the same as any other young woman. You can only get pregnant on certain days in your cycle and then your odds are only somewhat better than average. That’s only because your eggs are equally as efficient as the rest of you. Also you have shown an extreme resistance to disease. Either you won’t get sick or at worst you’ll start to, then your immune system roars back, and you’ll never catch it again,” Dr. Sara explained.
“Viruses too, even AIDS?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t go and deliberately expose yourself to AIDS or some other potentially fatal disease, but the cell culture tests suggest you’re immune. That doesn’t mean live virus might not survive in your vaginal fluids for a few minutes to hours. You should be safe, but you could act as an uninfected carrier.”
“So safe sex to avoid pregnancy and to protect my lovers?”
“Not a bad practice, Joanie.”
“I feel a little better,” I replied.
“One last thing, dear.”
“If you ever bed Alex, do be gentle. With your endurance you might kill him, and he took so long to train.” I rolled my eyes.
“Great another comedian.”
~Just like my mom. ~
* * * *
Red and I met the rest of The Gang of Four at her house where I explained ‘The Plan’ to them. Gin paraphrased it to prove she understood.
“Let’s see if I have it, the record contract is for ready cash. Meanwhile you’re accumulating old currency, so that when you suss out your time travel powers, you can make stock and property investments in the past, so that by the near future you control an incredible amount of wealth for your personal and charitable needs? Did I leave anything out?” she asked.
“That’s pretty much it, Gin,” I said.
“Are you -- scratch that -- you are crazy. It’s not I don’t doubt you can eventually manage time travel, but think of the risk. The very best evidence of what can go wrong is your own transformation, one momentary encounter with your mother in the past and bobs-your-peter.” Gin grinned nervously. “Sorry for the gallows humor, but I’m seriously worried. If in one moment you managed to so alter the timeline that you’re a girl instead of a man, what bigger messes could you cause.”
~Gin is rightly to be worried. Damn, it made her look so hot and sexy. Oh joy, a week of this. ~
“You mean Jerry Lewis was not the 40th President of the United States?”
“Be serious for once, Joanie.” Gin snapped. Believe me you do not want to make a sorceress angry.
~I swear her eyes are glowing. Ghod it makes her so cute, ooooh. I have got to get laid or take that ice bath. ~
“Just trying to ease the tension, Gin, I know it’s risky, but it’s worse if it just happens at random. I have to believe it’s less risky to time travel knowingly with control than unknowingly and out of control,” I argued.
“See that you learn some control, Joanie. I may have something that helps. I’ll hobnob with some of my fellow wizards and witches and see if I can’t whip up a magical reality recorder,” Gin said and grinned.
“Gin, what’s with the Wizard of Oz reference?”
“Something to tell you if anything major has changed in the timeline so you can go back and fix it, assuming you don’t make it worse,” she gave me a feral grin.
I didn’t know whether to kiss her, thank her, or run screaming. Magic users are so hard to read.
* * * *
To be continued
Thanks to Renae for the use of her ta ta. FYI, Dr. Sara was quoting Young Frankenstein if you didn’t guess.
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.
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