“Glam to Goth,” part 2
Meghan engulfed a bagel. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. It could have been days since she ate. Just like how, earlier, she hadn’t realized how badly she needed to use the bathroom. And then, just as Meghan began to question what was making her forget about her own basic needs, the thought slipped away, replaced by curiosity of her surroundings.
She first tested the closed door. It was unlocked. Meghan somehow knew that she shouldn’t leave. A window in the opposite corner then caught her eye.
En route to the door, Meghan got a better look at the magazines on the rack. Her glance was correct, the magazines did feature inked and pierced women. She hadn’t noticed that they were exclusively pornographic. Greeting Meghan were rows upon rows of women in various states of undress, coarse expressions on their faces, some actually engaged in sex acts with other women. She experienced initial, palpable revulsion at the sight. That revulsion turned to intrigue so quickly that Meghan found it jarring. She willed her legs to take her from the magazines to the window in the corner.
Sunlight streamed through, illuminating the room. All of her life, Meghan had worshipped the sun—sunbathing as much as possible, working on her tan, investing heavily in beachwear. Those memories seemed like they belonged to another person. Meghan looked at her arms, once almost caramel, now faded to simply tan, and felt … satisfaction?
The window itself was small and horizontally-oriented, about eight feet off the ground. Up close, Meghan saw that it opened onto a courtyard. She was on the garden level, it seemed. Wait, the courtyard had a ceiling, with a giant light shining down. There was no sunlight in the room. Meghan was somehow OK with that.
Her attention turned back to the magazines. Her hesitation vanished, and her hand was drawn to the raciest cover she saw, which depicted a pale skinned, short haired dyke plowing a tan, busty cheerleader-type. The dyke kneeled over the cheerleader and cruelly pursed her lips—black with snakebite piercings—while her strap-on penetrated the long-haired blonde, whose nipples each held enormous piercings. After staring at the cover for a minute, Meghan brought the magazine back with her to her bed, to peruse.
Flipping the pages, Meghan saw images giving the cover’s context—the dyke standing before the cheerleader, the two passionately kissing, the dyke pulling off the cheerleader’s top and clutching her ridiculous tits, the dyke pressing the cheerleader’s head down to waist level, the cheerleader removing the dyke’s skirt and panties before burying her face in the dyke’s pussy. Something about that dyke’s look and the way she took the cheerleader (who looked like a stereotypical straight girl) was highly arousing to Meghan. By the time she got to the end, she noticed that her hand had drifted between her legs and was stroking her naked clit.
Meghan had a moment of clarity and tossed the magazine aside. She wasn’t interested in lesbian porn—she hadn’t even had a lesbian inkling before this whole episode! The enormity of her recent actions washed over her. She had desperately wanted to eat her friend Stacey out but wound up sucking her toes, like a freak. Why was she acting like this??? She wasn’t a dyke, dykes were disgusting; she didn’t have a foot fetish, only utter weirdos were into that! And how long had she been naked!
This place, or someone or something in this place, was changing her! It was probably changing Stacey as well! Panicked, Meghan checked all available means of egress. The courtyard out the window was surrounded on all sides by other buildings—she was in some kind of complex. Besides, the window was way too high to reach. There was a vent, but it was securely fastened to the wall.
That left the door. Meghan pressed her naked body against the door, cupping her ear. She heard nothing on the other side. The coast was clear, it seemed. Slowly, she gripped the door handle and began to turn…
...or at least, that’s what she intended to do. Instead, her wrist remained locked. She tried several more times to turn the handle, but her body simply wouldn’t carry out this direction. Meghan broke down in tears.
“Shit….what’s happening to me?”
She returned to her bed and bawled herself to sleep.
An indeterminate amount of time later (the light from the courtyard never went down), a still-disconsolate Meghan was roused by an energetic knock on her door. Meghan felt only dread as she answered the door, naked but resigned to her nudity.
It was Alyse! At least, it probably was… There had been some … changes…
“Holy shit, girl! You look like crap! Pull it together! I’m here to cheer you up!”
Meghan’s jaw dropped.
Before her was Alyse, a dear friend since freshman year of college. They met during orientation, two cute, bubbly blondes who shared a love of fashion and boys. They were inseparable even before Stacey became part of their clan, rooming together from second semester of freshman year through graduation. Their dorm rooms and off-campus apartments were impeccably decorated with bright, floral colors. Meghan could remember hours spent with Alyse scouring lookbooks online for the most beautiful sun dresses and playsuits. And shoes, shoes, shoes—heels of precisely 1-2 inches, for everything—the sweet spot between boring and whorish. They reveled in wearing the latest, the best, the prettiest. Alyse had a lithe, tan body to match Meghan’s, and they could freely raid each other’s closet.
From the look of it, Alyse would not be interested in that sort of thing any more.
“Go ahead, take a look. I know it’s a change. But I love everything that’s happened here.”
Gone was Alyse’s long, naturally blonde hair. Her hair was now dyed a grayish-lavender and cut short. The top messily fell down the length of her face, the sides were buzzed to about a quarter inch.
The face that hair framed was also significantly different. Dark makeup was applied heavily and messily to her eyes and lips. A ring hung from her left nostril, two more protruded from her right eyebrow, and a row of three pierced the right portion of her lower lip. A large septum dangled between her nostrils, the end almost touching the top of her lip. In light of all that makeup and all those facial piercings, Meghan pondered the FashionBitches.com article Alyse had written over the summer: “Against: Rivetheads.”
The changes didn’t stop there. Alyse’s trademark tan was non-existent. She was pale, almost gaunt. “How long have I been in here?” Meghan wondered to herself. She looked at her arm and saw her own tan had faded, but hardly to the same extent as Alyse’s.
Alyse’s pallor really made her new tattoos pop. As Meghan recalled, Alyse had cried at the pain when she got a tiny tat of a dolphin on her upper thigh after graduation. A huge volume of tears were surely shed, then, during Alyse’s latest makeover—beginning on the top of her hand, her left arm had a sleeve of tats, colorfully depicting demonic scenes and patterns. Matching designs crept up her shoulder and to the left side of her neck. It occurred to Meghan that given the placement and aggressiveness of Alyse’s tattoos, she’d never be able to work a desk job. Meghan involuntarily licked her lips at the thought—Alyse ruining her body in this way was, in truth, pretty hot.
Alyse made no effort to hide her tattoos. Whereas Meghan wasn’t even sure Alyse owned a pair of pants (aside from her yoga pants), Alyse stood in front of her wearing a simple, tight black tank top, tucked into loose, olive-colored slacks.
There were no cute heels on her feet. Her now-pale toes—also painted a grayish-lavender (matching the hair)—rested on a flat sole and peeked out from a wide, black strap that ran from the inside of her foot across the top to the outside. Alyse moved slightly, and Meghan saw the tell-tale strap running the length of the foot, connecting the horizontal strap to a velcro strap around the ankle. Alyse was wearing Teva sandals! The unfortunate choice for foot attire of millions of grandparents, exchange students, and white water rafters! Teva had some big plan earlier in the year to coopt the fashion bloggers and make their dumb sandals cool. They specifically approached FashionBitches.com last spring about a sponsorship deal, but Meghan, Alyse, and Stacey had each laughed out loud. Their laughter continued during the summer music festival season, when the segment of competitive fashion bloggers who had succumbed to Teva’s efforts. “Against: Tevas!” read a representative FashionBitches.com headline.
“Oh my god, Alyse—what the fuck is happening???” Tears welled in Meghan’s eyes. “You look so … different! And I feel so weird, like I want to do things I never even thought about before!” She broke down and collapsed into her friend’s arms. Alyse rubbed her naked back for a moment, then led her by hand to the bed.
After giving Meghan some time to compose herself, Alyse started. “I don’t really know what’s happening to us exactly, but I can tell you that we’re changing, and it can be fantastic if you let it happen.”
Noticing Meghan’s dumbfounded expression, Alyse elaborated. “Look, we’re just not going to be the same people when we leave. But that’s OK—I chose everything that’s been done to my body, and I can’t wait to get into some real body modification,” she continued, stroking an unpierced earlobe.
“Hold on a second—you chose to get a million piercings in your face?”
“That’s right.”
“Why? You wrote an article about how ugly those kind of piercings are! Just a few …” Meghan realized she had no idea how she had been in the facility. “...months ago.”
“When I started hanging with Liz, I came around, I guess. I started off with just a nostril, but honestly, getting pierced turned me on so much that I was back the next day. That’s when I started getting my sleeve done as well, in case you were wondering.”
“So it is Liz, right? She’s doing something to us? She’s making us freaks like her?”
“First off, who cares? I, for one, am still awesome, regardless of what changes I have undergone. Second, I think from talking to Stacey and Liz that what’s happening is that, somehow, we want to become what Liz wants us to be. But I have no idea how that works.”
“Oh my god, she’s a monster! Did she make you pale like that?”
“No, actually, I wanted to become paler, so I’ve been using skin bleach to speed up the process.”
“WHAT?!? That is so fucking weird!”
“I know, right? But you can’t argue with the results!” Alyse beamed as she moved her arm around, admiring the paleness. Meghan uncomfortably found her friend’slack of pigmentation growing on her as well.
“Demons? Really? You cried when you got a tiny dolphin tattoo!” Meghan chided.
“I know, right? It’s wild, but I kind of like a little bit of pain here and there now.”
“Listen to yourself! You sound like some some of S&M freak!”
“Listen to myself? Look at me! What do you think I am? You weren’t listening to me when I said that I chose everything different about me. I fucking love…”
“...Tevas? Honestly?” Meghan pointed at the offending shoes.
“Yeah I always thought they were basically the most repulsive kind of footwear, but I’ve obviously come around on those, too. Liz and I were going shopping—this was right after they started my sleeve—and we went into a shoe store. She walked right past the cute shoes and picked up a pair of Tevas with a black sole and blue straps. I just stood there silently while she unlaced her boots, peeled off her socks, and put her pale feet into the Tevas. I never in a million years would have thought that something like that could be erotic, but somehow, this turned me on like crazy. She bought those Tevas and wore them out. I wanted to fuck her so bad … “
“You wanted to WHAT??”
“Oh yeah, by that point me and Liz had been fucking like crazy. I love eating pussy now. Let me get back to that. Anyway, I wanted to fuck Liz so bad all the way home, when she sat in the passenger seat of the car with her feet on the dash. I just kept sneaking peeks at her feet in the Tevas while I was driving. She noticed and, at a stop, put one of her feet—I think it was her left—right in front of my mouth. Oh god I loved her for that. I grabbed that foot and licked down from the strap, between the toes, to the rubber sole. It was so fucking hot to taste her feet after she’d been wearing her boots and then to taste the new rubber.”
Meghan quietly uncomfortably reflected on her own dabbles with foot fetishism earlier.
“The lights changed, we went home, and, yes, I fucked her. God, she knows how to turn me on. So, after I ate her pussy all afternoon, she goes, ‘You want some Tevas, too, don’t you?’ And that’s when it clicked—the tats and piercings were cool, but I needed a new wardrobe, new haircut, etc., if I was going to be the new me.”
Alyse continued, “The first stop the next day was that same shoe store. I was wearing a pair of running shoes. Liz took me past all those girly shoes to the Tevas and helped me pick out four or five pairs. It’s hard to explain, but there was something really erotic about pulling off my sneakers and socks and strapping my feet in, maybe like I was telling the world something had changed about me? Anyway, I wore one of those pairs out, and we went to the department store, where I got a bunch of tanks and pants. Finally, the hair salon.”
At that point, Alyse grabbed Meghan’s forearm. “You know, Liz and I never spoke a word about what kind of haircut I was going to get, but we both knew. When we headed into the salon, Liz walked up to the person at the front and whispered something to her. I couldn’t hear it, but I knew. So when that girl said, ‘Is your friend right? You really want this haircut?’ even though I didn’t hear exactly what Liz had said, I just answered, ‘Well, yeah—I’m a fucking dyke. I think it’s about time I looked the part.’”
Alyse was squeezing Meghan’s forearm harder now. “So hot. So goddamn hot. I loved that I had no idea exactly what was in store for me, and I also loved that I was getting my first dyke haircut. Sitting in the salon chair while they buzzed the sides of my head, I saw Liz off to the side. I could tell that it was turning her on, watching my makeover. I couldn’t wait to fuck like DYKES, you know what I mean?”
Meghan found herself nodding, entranced by the story, and, in spite of herself, incredibly horny.
“And now, you see the result.” Alyse stood up, then pulled her friend to her feet. “So yeah, that’s my long-winded way of saying, I’m a dyke, I like to fuck girls, Tevas are hot, I wear Tevas, I like to fuck girls who wear Tevas.”
A predatory look crossed Alyse’s face. “And that brings me to you. I’ve thought about you a lot since my … epiphany … about girls.”
Alyse’s fingernail lightly brushed against Meghan’s shaved pussy. Meghan’s breathing accelerated.
“You know, we could have been fucking all during college.” Alyse began to trace a circle, rhythmically, around Alyse’s clit. With her other arm, Alyse brought Meghan in tight, their faces inches from each other.
“We were so stupid not to try, don’t you agree?”
Meghan slowly nodded as Alyse subtly penetrated her with her middle finger.
“That’s right. We should fuck girls. Only girls. Isn’t that right?”
Alyse’s middle finger lurched forward and came into contact with Meghan’s g-spot. Meghan was powerless to resist. “Uhhhnnnn….YES!”
“I knew you’d agree. But if you only fuck girls, what does that make you now?” Alyse’s digital assault on Meghan’s g-spot continued.
“It...makes...me...gay…” Even as aroused as she was, Meghan had difficulty saying that out loud. Saying it loud, though, made it very, very real. Meghan was no longer passively getting finger fucked by her friend—she was actively thrusting her hips to allow for more robust penetration.
“So, my gay friend, are you a dyke like me now?”
“Fuck yes!”
“Say it—no wait, yell it!”
“I’M A FUCKING DYKE!” Meghan had never been so turned on. Her imagination ran wild with thoughts of feasting on her friend’s pussy. And other pussies. Liz’s pussy? One thing was for sure, she needed to have a pussy in her mouth immediately.
That’s when Alyse abruptly pulled her finger from Meghan’s pussy and broke the embrace. Walking a few steps away, Alyse turned and studied the confused, horny look on her friend’s face.
After a pregnant moment, Alyse spoke. “So, dyke, what do you think we should do?”
“We should FUCK LIKE DYKES!!!” Meghan threw her naked body against her friend, pawing at her top and trying desperately to insert her tongue into Alyse’s mouth.
“I totally agree… There’s just one problem—you’re not my type.”
To the confused and horny expression Meghan wore moments ago, she added heartbroken.
“No! What’s wrong??” Meghan pleaded.
“There’s a lot going on. Honestly, Liz tried to help you earlier, but you were too stubborn or dumb to see it. So now it’s going to be a whole thing.”
Meghan was bawling at this point. “NOOO!!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me eat you! I’ll do whatever you want!”
“Well, OK. There’s obvious potential here. It’s just, you’re too … femme right now. And we don’t have time for a full-scale makeover if you want to fuck now…”
Alyse sat on the bed, then prompted Meghan to join her. “OK, dyke. How about you…”
Alyse’s hand drifted to her right foot. She pulled on the velcro strap holding her Teva in place.
“...show me …”
She pulled the sandal off and handed it to Meghan.
“...what a dyke…”
Alyse repeated, with the other Teva.
“...you are now.”
Sensing her cue, Meghan locked eyes with her college roommate, extended her tongue, and closely drew the length of the top of one of the Tevas across her tongue. The rubbery-acrid taste was amazing. While maintaining eye contact, Meghan repeated with the other Teva.
She then threw them on the floor and placed her bare feet inside. Slowly, she velcroed her feet in.
Standing up in front of her friend, naked but for the Tevas, Meghan said sultrily, “So, am I dyke enough for you now?”
Alyse smiled and pulled Meghan down on top of her.