Message-ID: <25380asstr$964073426@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Original-Message-ID: From: J R D Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" ; format="flowed" Subject: {ASSM} BB/BW:Biker's Revenge (tg, no sex) Date: Thu, 20 Jul 2000 02:10:26 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: IceAltar, newsman Here's a story I thought of a while ago and wrote out. Originally I only had intended this as a Bikini Beach story, but it tweaked the rules a bit, so, rather than come up with a reason, I used Patty and turned it into a Bikini Beach/Bad Wishing crossover. And don't worry, I'm still working on the next Witch Chronicles story. Now, onto the boring stuff ------------------------- DISCLAIMERS ------------------------- This story contains scenes of an erotic and/or controversial nature, and is not intended for the perusal of minors. Further if perusal of such material is considered illegal in your area or immoral by your religion or personal beliefs, you should likewise bypass this story. This story remains the property of the author. Permission is granted to download, photocopy, copy and repost so long as any such action contains these disclaimers, and no attempt is made to profit from this story. All characters in this story are the creation of the author, and any resemblance to real persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. This story may contain aspects of fantastic science or magic. The parameters of what this science/magic can accomplish are completely at the discretion of me, the author, and, as such, I make no apologies for any rules of "real" physics, chemistry, biology, or magic that may be broken within the story. ------------------------- Now onto the fun stuff ------------------------- BB/BW:BIKER'S REVENGE Leopold Brenner, a.k.a. "Spike," walked into the bar and sat on one of the stools. Spike was a rather large man, six foot, three inches with muscles to match. He had stringy blonde hair with a severe widow's peak that was made even more severe by his receding hairline. He was wearing leather pants and a leather vest over a sleeveless T-shirt, which exposed his tattoo covered arms. On the back of his vest was a skull surrounded by a wreath of flames, the symbol of the biker gang that he was once a member of. "One beer," he told the bartender. The bartender, one Shamus O'Flannigan, filled a mug from one of the taps. He could tell that Spike didn't want to chat, so he just set the beer down and returned to other customers. Five minutes later he saw that Spike had yet to even sip at his beer. He wandered over and said, "Hey, Spike, haven't seen you in a while. Where you been keeping yourself?" Without looking up, he said, "My wife didn't want me going into bars and getting drunk." Sensing the sadness in Spike's voice, Shamus asked, "Is something wrong with Jasmine?" Spike said nothing for a while. Finally, he said, "She's dead." "I'm sorry. What happened?" "She committed suicide." Spike straightened up. "Look, I appreciate the effort, but right now, I'm not much for talking." "I understand. Hey, why don't you rub the lucky beer? It's level has gone down tonight." Shamus gave Spike a big, Irish smile before he returned to his work. Thinking of the "lucky beer", Spike almost smiled. Shamus was a bit of an odd duck. When he opened the bar every day, he filled a single mug of beer and set it on the corner of the bar. He refused to let anyone drink from it, but that didn't keep it from being drunk from over the course of the evening. Weird thing was, no one ever saw anyone drinking from the beer mug. Some even claimed they saw the level of beer just drop with no cause at all. And what did Shamus say if anyone asked why he did it? "Why, to curry favor with the Leprechauns, of course." That caused a lot of sniggering, but there was a bar legend that if you were the first one to rub the mug after the level dropped, you'd be blessed with a bit o' Irish good luck. For whatever reason, Spike looked over at the lucky beer. He was surprised to see, standing on the bar beside it, a two foot tall man dressed all in green. The man was holding a tankard designed for his size. He passed it right through the side of the mug and lifted it up. He sipped at the now full container, then seemed to notice Spike. He walked the length of bar until he was right in front of the biker. He took another drink of beer, then said, "So, what can this old Leprechaun be doin' for ye?" Spike was so stunned he couldn't say a thing for a few seconds. Finally, he shook his head and said, "Pardon?" "Me boy-o, only three people can see a Leprechaun without the Leprechaun first wishing it: young children, wizards, and those who need to. You're too old to be a child, ya ha'n't got the smell of magic upon ye, so that means ye needed to see me. So what can I be doin' for ye?" Spike shook his head and went back to staring in his beer. "I must've gone nuts." "Now why're you bein' so quick to dismiss me? I might be able to help." "Help?" Spike snorted. "Can you bring my wife back from the dead?" "Sorry. The eternal night is untouchable by any faerie." "Then what good are you?" "That seems a might rude." Patty sat down cross-legged and sipped at his beer. "Perhaps I could be gettin' more details. How'd yuir lady die?" Spike sat there morosely for a few seconds before saying, "She killed herself." Patty took another swig of his drink. With an even voice, he asked, "So who killed her?" "I said-" "Me-boy, I heard your words, and a lot more. For one of the wee folk, like myself, misdirection and illusion is a way of life. The fact may be that she killed herself, but you blame another for her death. It shows in your words. So who was it?" Spike trembled, clutching his beer so tightly that the glass shook. "His name is Paul Roberts. He is... was her boss. He wanted her and threatened to fire her unless she went to bed with him, but she told him to fuck off. So he used his money and connections to frame me for a crime I didn't commit. He told her that he'd get me off if she went to bed with him. Feeling she had no choice, she consented. He did spring me, but Jaz wasn't the same. A week later, she took her own life, leaving me a note explaining everything and saying that she felt she had betrayed me by sleeping with that scum. My first instinct was to get a gun and blow his fucking head off." Spike choked back a sob. "But Jaz wouldn't have wanted that. She tried so hard to get me to leave my old life behind, at least the violent parts. So I tried to do it her way. I went to the courts with her note. That bastard and his lawyers got the case thrown out before it even went before a jury. I was so irate that I tried to strangle him right in front of the judge." Spike wiped the tears out of his eyes. "So now he's got a restraining order on me. If I come within 100 yards of him, I get thrown into jail, not that that's going to stop me. I just wish I had some way of ensuring that I could get five minutes alone with that scum." Patty smiled. "Now, my friend, if it's wishes yuir interested in, then it's indeed lucky you met me here. For a bit of gold, I can grant that wish. I can give you a disguise so complete that he'll never know it's you. It may take a while to get to him, but he won't know it's you until it's too late." "Gold? I've got to buy your... disguise?" "Unfortunately, yes. If it were up to me, I'd help for free, but I am bound by ancient law to trade wishes only in exchange for gold. Sorry, it's a rule I cannot break." Spike thought about it. He was probably crazy for doing it, but he reached into his pocket and got out the gold tennis bracelet he had got to give to his wife on her next birthday. He gave it to Patty and said, "Do whatever it is you're planning." "Be right back." Patty jumped off the bar, disappearing before he hit the ground. Spike waited impatiently. After about five minutes (when Spike was beginning to wonder if Patty had run off), the Leprechaun reappeared. "Okay, everything's set up." He held his hand out and a card appeared in it. Spike took it and read it. "Bikini Beach? What the hell is this? Some kind of con?" "I'll forgive ye for impugning me honor due to your emotional state. No, just head over to Bikini Beach, and follow the directions of the lady at the gate. Before the day is out, you'll have that disguise I promised. Do you know where it is?" "Yeah, but-" "Now, young fella, trust this ol' Leprechaun to steer you right." Spike shrugged. He had already gone this far; he might as well finish the ride. He got some money out of his pocket for the beer and dropped it on the counter. Not even waiting for his change, he went out, got on his bike, and drove across town to Bikini Beach. He pulled into the parking lot, parked his hog, and headed up to the main entry booth. He briefly looked around and saw a plethora of scantily-clad women. From an intellectual standpoint, he knew that they were all pretty, some were even beautiful, but other women had stopped being attractive when he met Jasmine. He truly loved her and when she had taken her own life, he had nearly done himself in. Now, the only thing that kept him going was getting that bastard who had driven Jaz to the depths of despair. He stepped up to the pretty brunette handling the booth. He handed her the card. Not sure about saying anything about Patty, he said, "I got this from a... friend." Anya looked at it. Grandmother had not told her about giving a pass to any man, but it seemed to be in order. This man, despite his rough appearance, didn't seem to be any kind of abuser or chauvinist, but he did seem to be hurting, and Anya wondered if that was what he was here for. She was about to hand the pass back when she did notice an anomaly. "Excuse me, sir, but where did you get this pass?" "Is there a problem?" Before Anya could reply, she heard Grandmother say, "It's okay, Anya. I know where the pass comes from. Let him on through." Anya looked over at her Grandmother. As ever, the younger sorceress still couldn't read her elder relative, even on an emotional level. Anya turned back and said, "Okay, just go into the men's changing room and take a shower." "That's it?" "That's it." Spike shrugged and went inside. After he was gone, Anya turned and asked, "Grandmother, what's going on? The duration on that pass said, 'Until it gets done.' Until what gets done? And I thought you didn't do passes of flexible duration." "The what is either vengeance or redemption, depending on the path that young man decides to walk. As for the pass, well although I can do a pass of variable duration, I didn't give him that pass." "Where'd he get it then?" "From a wish." "Gonna tell me any more than that?" "Not right now. Maybe later." Inside the men's room, Spike stripped to the buff. He didn't have a suit, but that didn't seem to matter. He went into the shower and turned on the water, surprised at the warmth of the spray. He spent a few minutes under the water before getting out. As he walked back to his clothes, something struck him as odd. Things were off, as though spatial dimensions had been just slightly skewed. And his body felt weird, his center of balance was changed, but he shrugged it off. As he walked, he saw a woman off in the distance and briefly wondered what a woman was doing in the men's room. He ignored her and went to his clothes, but when he got to where he had left his stuff, he instead found a pile of women's clothes. It was all the same basic style as his own clothes, but it was definitely not men's clothes. He looked around for his own stuff and saw Patty sitting on the edge of a sink. The green suited man was chewing on the end of a shaft of wheat. He removed it from his mouth and asked, "So how do you like your new disguise?" He gave Patty a mean look and asked, "What are you talking about?" but was shocked by the tone of his own voice. Patty waved at one of the mirrors and said, "Take a look." Spike ran to the mirror and looked in. Staring back was not the rough, manly features he knew before, but the features of a pretty blonde. She was no less rugged or strong looking than he had been, but it was a sexy, girly ruggedness. The only thing he could think to say was, "Holy crap." "So what do you think?" "You turned me into a woman?!" He looked down to his crotch, but when he couldn't see past the large boobs on his chest, he pressed his hand to where his cock normally would've been. "I'm a woman! A real woman! Why'd you do this?" "I didn't do this. This is all part and parcel of the magic of Bikini Beach. I just got you access." "Why this?" From behind him, Grandmother said, "The general reason is that I created Bikini Beach to be a haven for women from those that would lust after them and leer like they were objects. The specific reason is that Patty came to me and explained your loss and what you wanted. You wanted a perfect disguise in order to get at the man you blame for your wife's death. Well, let's face it. He will never think the woman you have become has any connection to the man you were, and he is far more likely to let a strange woman get close to him than a strange man, no matter how good the disguise would be. Normally I sell memberships for set durations, up to and including lifetime, but with a little assistance from Patty, you will be able to stay as you are for however long it'll take." Spike looked in the mirror. This definitely wasn't what he expected, but the woman was right. He... She had a far better chance of getting close to Paul Roberts as a woman than she ever did as a man. Grandmother handed her a towel. "Here's a loaner. I know you didn't bring one." Spike took the towel and dried herself off. She got dressed in the new clothes, seeming to have an instinctive understanding of the feminine articles. Her new outfit actually had far more leather than the old. It had leather pants, jacket, bustier, and boots, all of a distinctively feminine design. The only thing not leather was her panties and socks, both also very feminine. Spike noticed none of that. From her behavior, it was clear she had no idea how sexy she was. She just dressed quickly and left. When Grandmother left the room, Anya was waiting. "Okay, now I'm really confused. I understand changing him into a woman for this revenge plot. But what I don't understand is you helping with the plot, or why Patty brought him here. That old Leprechaun has more than enough power to change a hundred men into women with a snap of his fingers." Grandmother just smiled. "Watch and learn, Anya." ************ A WEEK LATER... Spike, calling herself Lara Jones, had gotten herself a job as a secretary at the firm where Jaz used to work. She wasn't a very sociable secretary, but that wasn't her intent. Every time she got close to her target, she'd flirt a bit, trying to get him to get her alone. The other girls had tried to warn her off, thinking she was aiming on landing a rich husband and not knowing Paul wasn't the marrying type, but they didn't understand what she was after. Finally, Lara's patience paid off. Paul, a relatively clean cut man who presented an image of respectability while stabbing his allies in the back to get ahead, asked her to come up to his office for a little "dictation." After she got up there, he told her, "Put your pad and purse down and come over here." She did as asked, knowing what was coming next. He put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing suggestively. "You know I can make your job here a lot easier with just the right... incentive." Then, without even waiting for a response, he started sliding his hands around to the back of her dress. Lara had wanted to wait, draw him out a bit, but now that the moment was here, she couldn't hold back. Her hand curled into a fist, almost of its own volition, and she hauled off and hit him. Paul staggered back under her enraged blow. As soon as he collected himself, he backhanded her, yelling, "What's wrong with you, bitch?" Lara wasn't even fazed. If she had been the delicate flower she was pretending to be, Paul's blow might have meant something, but male or female, Spike had lived a life that inured him to minor pain like Paul sought to inflict. She grabbed him and drove her knee into his groin. He doubled over, but she didn't let him drop. She pulled her knee back, drove it into his gut, then pushed him onto the floor by his desk. As she walked back to her purse, Paul managed to get enough breath to say, with much gasping, "Stupid bitch! You'll... be in jail... by nightfall." Lara pulled a revolver out of her purse and pointed it straight at Paul, cocking the hammer menacingly. "What the hell makes you think you're going to live to nightfall?" The sudden threat of having a gun pointed at his face was enough of an adrenaline rush that Paul was able to overcome the throbbing pain in his lower body. "What do you want? Money? I can give you money. I can-" "SHUT UP! All I want is you dead." "You'll never get away with it." "I don't care. I'm prepared to go to jail. I'm prepared to die. I just want you dead." Seeing the rage in Lara's eyes, Paul knew she wasn't exaggerating. "For god's sake, why?! At least tell me that!" With a burning rage and clenched teeth, Lara explained, "Remember Jasmine Brenner?" Paul did and his eyes grew wide with fear. "You killed her." "I didn't-" "You did! What you did to her destroyed her! She was too soft, too delicate to deal with it. You might as well have put the gun to her head and pulled the trigger yourself. I'm going to kill you for what you did to her. I'm going to kill you for her." Paul was too frightened to think of anything to say. He was moderately surprised (although too fixated on the gun to show it) when he heard a voice with a classic Irish accent say from on top of his desk, "Ah, me boy-o, but is that a gift yuir dear wife would want?" Lara saw Patty sitting on top of the desk, calmly puffing on a briar pipe. Paul called out, "Whoever you are, save me! Stop her! I'll pay anything you want!" Lara growled, "Stay out of this, Patty!" "Ah, lassie, ye need not worry about me. Although all Leprechauns have a bit of mercenary in them, this rogue has no gold to bargain with, and I don't do credit. So if ye're bound and determined to kill this man, I won't stop ye. I was just wondering about yuir wife. From what ye have told me, I don't think this is something she'd want. Am I wrong?" Lara considered it, her arms shaking with the emotional turmoil. But she stiffened both her arms and resolve. "She may not have wanted him dead, but he doesn't deserve her concern." From the side of the room, he heard a woman's voice say, "But what of her concern for you?" Out of the corner of her eye, Lara saw Grandmother step up. "She wouldn't want you to sacrifice yourself for him, no matter what he had done." Lara trembled a bit, then stiffened up again. "He deserves to die! He needs to be punished for what he did!" "At the cost of your wife's wishes?" Patty said, "Yuir wife loved ye, Spike. She made saving you her fondest desire. Will ye make her life's work a failure? For this sorry excuse for a man?" "Choose another path, Spike." Spike, a.k.a. Lara, trembled. She knew they were right. Jaz wouldn't have wanted this, no matter what the sleaze had done. But he had to be punished. Finally, Lara came to a decision. She grabbed her purse and slung its long strap over her shoulder. She put the gun back in the purse, but didn't take her hand off of it. "Get up!" Paul obeyed her and she grabbed him and pushed him to the door, moving so she was behind him. She bumped the purse into his back, reminding him of what was inside. "We're going to take a little walk. I'm prepared to go to jail, so if you try anything, no matter where we are, or who's watching, I will empty this gun into you. Now move!" Paul wondered where they were going, but was too frightened to even consider asking. She marched him out of the building, ignoring everyone they passed. She made him walk for almost an hour, until they reached Bikini Beach. She marched him right up to the front gate where a pretty brunette waited. She told him, "Get out your credit card." When he handed it to Anya, Lara said, "A lifetime membership." Anya got out the paperwork and said, "I'll need you to sign these." Paul debated whether or not to try to enlist Anya's help, but Lara bumped him with the purse, saying, "Don't even think about it. I am sure that this young lady doesn't want your guts all over her." Anya said nothing but took a large step to the side, clearing the path, just in case. Realizing he had no one to turn to, Paul signed. Lara grabbed him by the shoulder and all but threw him towards the men's locker. They went inside, and Paul saw one shower running. "Now what?" he asked. "Now you get wet!" she replied, kicking him at the shower. He tripped and sprawled head long into the stream of water. He got up to his knees but froze as he started to change. Lara felt a tingle run through her body and watched the change as Spike. Paul changed and morphed. His business suit became a revealing dress. His hair grew down his back, and his chest ballooned out to become a massive pair of tits. The new girl sat up and looked down at herself. Suddenly she giggled and said, "Look at me. I forgot to take my clothes off to shower again," then giggled once more. Grandmother stepped up beside Spike. He asked, "She seems awfully stupid." "Standard physical bimbo-ization plus extra stupidity. And bimbos aren't smart to begin with." They walked back towards the front gate, Spike stuffing the gun into the back of his pants. "Does he even remember what he was?" "Not really." Spike rolled his eyes to the sky. "Then what's the point?! If he doesn't even know he's being punished, why bother?!" "It was needed to make other changes stable." "What other changes?" Spike heard a soft voice behind him say, "Hey, hun, miss me? Hope you didn't have to wait too long." Knowing the voice, he was too afraid to turn to confirm it. He just stood there as his wife, Jasmine, walked up beside him, pulled him down and kissed him on the cheek. She gave him an inquiring look and asked, "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." Spike was too stunned to say a thing, so Grandmother said, "I'm sure your husband will be fine. He and I are discussing things." Jaz looked at him for a while, then said, "Okay, I'll wait over at the bike." Spike could only stare as she walked over and climbed on his Harley, getting out her helmet. Finally, Spike turned back to Grandmother, pointed to Jaz, and asked, "How?!" "When I changed Paul, I changed reality. SHE is and always was female, so he never raped your wife, and she never felt the shame and despair that drove her to take her own life." "But Patty said-" "Patty said HE couldn't. No fae can. It's part of being immortal. They just don't understand death, and thus can't reverse it. The best they can do is transplant a soul and make it think it's the other person, but you'd have known the difference." "Why didn't you just tell me?" "Because you needed to know that YOU were worth saving." Spike thought about it and reached behind him and pulled out his gun. He handed it to Grandmother and said, "Would you take care of this? I don't think I'll need it anymore." He went over to his bike, hugged Jaz, and climbed on. She nestled into him and they drove off together. After they were gone, Grandmother used a bit of power and changed the gun into a decoration for the new expansion she was planning. She then turned and saw Anya with an annoyed look on her face. "Problem, child?" "After all the speeches, all the lectures you have given me about 'giving away the store,' you go and do this?" "Well, let's see. In return for helping a man who truly deserved it, Patty now owes me a favor, and we've got two new customers. What was it I gave away?" Anya thought about it while Grandmother said, "Besides, I think this little bit of help may be more fortuitous than I first thought." ************ THE NEXT DAY... Anya was working at the front gate that morning handling new memberships. Things were moderately busy and she had her hands full most of the time. She was processing some basic forms when she heard a sound like angry thunder. She and most of the crowd looked up and saw twelve bikers, all wearing the same jacket design as Spike had, ride six bikes into the lot. Each bike had two riders, one female and one male. The crowd froze as the group parked and the man who had been on the lead bike got off and walked up to the booth. Anya could sense he meant no ill will, but he was still an intimidating figure. He was just under six foot tall but had muscles and shoulders that seemed ready made for someone a half foot or more taller. Not helping soften the image was the WWI aviator's helmet he was sporting, or the obviously visible skull tattoo on his arm. Most of the crowd stared as he walked up and took one of the brochures on the counter. Things settled a bit when he brought his finger to the edge of his helmet in a greeting/saluting gesture and respectfully said, "Ladies." There was a bit more staring and some muttered musings as he returned to the other bikers. The bikers all crowded around the brochure and a few minutes later the females of the group came over and got into line. The men stayed by their bikes and talked, but made no move to actually leave. When everyone realized nothing was going to happen the line got moving again. It was only a few minutes later when a potential problem arose. A couple of local college kids came into the parking lot and started hitting on the girls in line. It wasn't anything that Bikini Beach hadn't had to deal with before, although these boys were a bit more belligerent than most, returning at least once every day. Anya had tried enticing them in, but rumors of Bikini Beach had spread widely enough that the boys stayed out of the park itself. Usually Anya called out one of the life guards to chase them off and that'd be it for the day, but now she was worried about the bikers. What would they do if these punks started hitting on their girls? Anya could sense that a few of them would start with pounding them into the ground and go from there. Anya immediately called for Elizabeth and told her to hurry. Before Liz could get there, the boys reached the biker chicks and started their routine. Anya looked to the men and saw one nearly leap off his bike, ready to do extremely nasty things. She was grateful when the leader put a restraining hand on his arm. Then the leader looked towards the back of the group and nodded towards the punk kids. One biker stood. Anya could tell when he had been sitting that he was the largest of the group, but standing, he was immense! He stood just a couple inches under seven feet tall and was over three hundred pounds of solid muscle. As he strode up to the boys, Anya knew that although he was capable of great force, he really wasn't the violent type. He walked up to the boy who appeared to lead these kids and tapped him on the shoulder. The kid turned, looking right into the chest of this giant. He slowly raised his head until he could see the eyes of the biker, whereupon the biker looked down and said with an emotionless tone, "Stop it." The kid stammered out, "Y... Y... You don't scare me." Thee giant raised one eyebrow in an "Oh, really?" expression. He leaned over until he was eye level with the kid. "Why don't you go run home to mama, boy, before I do what she should've and turn you over my knee?" The boys didn't say a thing, instead only slinking off a short distance before the giant growled and they took off at a dead run away from the park. One of the girls, a small thing barely over five foot, grabbed the giant's shirt, pulled him down, and gave him a peck on the cheek. Anya found it amusing to see this giant of a man blush down to his toes from this simple act of affection. The man walked back and Anya heard her Grandmother say, "I don't think those youngsters will be back any more." Anya turned the booth over to an employee and went back to talk with Grandmother. When they were in a little more private place, Anya asked, "Did you plan this?" "Of course not. This is simple word of mouth advertising. The bikers like the concept of a place where they don't have to worry about their girls being ogled by others. Now that the girls are customers of Bikini Beach, the boys will make sure they and resultantly we remain relatively free of harassment." "But bikers?" "Oh, admittedly, they're a bit too prone to violence and definitely rough around the edges, but they're basically good boys, and aside from a bit of over-protective jealousy they respect and love their girls. And if eventually their curiosity creates a situation where they wind up understanding their girls a bit better... But that's a story for another day." -- ---------- All comments, suggestions, etc. may be sent to me at jrdss@micronet.net I can be reached while online at ICQ# 37222294 -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+