The Big Break, Chapter 2

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Part Two – The Old Dart

We were told that we only needed to carry our guitars on the plane as amplifiers and drums would be rented while we were there. Lesley had her keyboard packed in a case to go in the hold as well.

We tidied up our affairs and paid our various bills in advance as it was expected that we would be away for three months. Steve sold the Transit cheaply to a friend who needed to move house and the rest of us parked our old cars in Terry’s garage.

The day we left we went to the Brisbane airport by the shuttle and lugged our gear into the departure area. I think we were all a bit worried to see our instruments going out of our sight on the conveyor as we made our way to the departure lounge. The flight took us first to Hong Kong and we spent a couple of hours in the biggest building I have ever seen. I believe that the way they held up the massive roof had won an award. Then it was a fourteen hour trip to Stanstead Airport in England, arriving very early in the morning. We creaked and crawled our way out of the plane, unwinding after so many hours cooped up.

After a trip to a decent toilet we waited at the carrousel for our bags and looked around, this was us, on the ground in England. Finally we picked up our guitar cases, Lesleys’ keyboard, and our bags before we went through passport control and out into the departure hall. There was a guy there with a board that had Lesley Craven written on it and we went to him. He looked a bit oddly at us but led us to a minibus without any comment. Driving out of the airport he took us to our destination, the Walden Manor and Pleasure Park, and our host for the immediate future, His Lordship Algernon Transgerant. I gathered that he could trace his family back to the Norman Conquest.

We were keen to see the countryside but the motorway going north was as dull as the motorways back home. I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or bolstered by this. We turned off at a place called Wendens Ambo and ended up near a village called Hadstock. On the way we passed signs that proclaimed the Walden Manor Goth Festival on the following weekend. This was to be our first gig in the UK and it was His Lordship who had arranged our tour.

Our silent driver had a grin on his face when he pulled up at the front door of a massive house. He beeped the horn and the door opened to reveal a bearded gentleman who looked like an ancient wizard, behind him were three girls, all in full Goth dress and make-up. The driver opened up the door of the bus, and the man looked in and said “Who the hell are you lot?” Terry said that we were Quimble, the band as expected and the reply was “But you are an all-girl Goth band, that’s what your poster said and that is how we have been advertising your gigs. You can’t be chaps!”

Terry told him that we were who we were and that there never was an all-girl band. The wizard then, grumpily, told us to get our bags around to the guest wing and James, our driver, would show us our rooms and then lead us to the library for a meeting. We picked up our stuff and followed James around to the side of the building where there was a modern extension with a number of bedrooms. He showed us our rooms and we divested ourselves of our bags and then followed him through a corridor into the main house, eventually entering the library. It was a genuine library with walls of books and a number of leather armchairs arranged around low tables. We were told to sit and we did so, waiting to hear our fate. Lesley was muttering something about Adrian promising her that she would be a star and that, if he had truly stuffed us up, he was toast when we got back.

When we had sat, his Lordship held up a piece of paper with the left hand side of our poster printed on it. It showed Lesley with the bold words above ‘Goth Rock Chick Band Quimble’. Terry pointed out that it was only half the poster and Bruce had a full one folded up in his pocket which he brought out and showed the wizard. The man sat back and cursed his secretary of the time. It seemed that he went through secretaries as quickly as he changed his cape and this one had been particularly inept. He then said “Well, we have advertised you as an all-girl Goth band and, by God, that’s what you damn well will have to be! I am not going to lose face, nor am I going to lose any money, so the money you would be paid for playing at my festival will now be used to make you appear as advertised!”

We protested that we were boys, had always been boys and would stay boys. He came back with the promise that, if we let him down, we would be liable for all the costs incurred so far and he would make sure we would never play in public again. Lesley then spoke up and told us that we were the key to her success and that we were a great band and, as we didn’t sing much, it would make no difference to the music if we all wore dresses. She said it may even improve our popularity.

I asked how he was going to perform this miracle, would he just wave a wand over us, and he looked at me sternly and said “Do not mock the dark arts, young man, there are forces about that you have no idea of.” He then told us that we would be transformed by his three daughters into state-of-the-art Goth women. He said that it was lucky we had a few days before the festival started as it gave us time to get used to this fact as we would need to be in character for the whole tour. The three girls were Felicity, Fiona and Faith, all born of his first wife, Felice. We found out, later, that Felice had gone off with her personal trainer after five years of marriage, citing a need to be normal; leaving His Lordship to bring up the three girls in his own fashion. The girls were all about our age and I wondered if they all took after their mother as they had no family resemblance to the wizard at all.

The four of us were taken upstairs to a big bedroom where we were told to strip to our undies to be measured. This we did with much embarrassment. Then Lesley was sent, with Felicity, into Norwich where there was a shop that catered to Goths so they could get us our costumes. They had a list of our measurements and also our shoe sizes. Fiona and Faith then took us, two at a time, into the bathroom where we had to lose our underwear as well and were plastered with a strong smelling gunk before washing it, and our hairs, off in the shower. When Terry and Bruce came out of the bathroom they had clean hair, smooth skin and a satisfied smile on their faces. Steve and I were next and found out that, prior to the gunking, we needed to be relieved of our tensions by oral stimulation. We also had smiles on our faces when we assembled in the bedroom.

The girls found us all some black panties to wear which they told us were control briefs. After we had put them on they laughed and told us that we were all now under their control. Three of us were sat on the bed while, one at a time, we were subjected to hair brushing and styling. As we were a rock band of our time, we all had long hair and it didn’t take them long to achieve a more feminine look. We were told that when Felicity came back she would do our faces as she was better at that but we would now be subjected to nail polish. We sat, with our hands out, to be all painted with a primer, followed by three layers of dark black, on our finger and toe nails. Bruce complained that we would not be showing our toes on stage he was told that we may be showing them around a pool one day.

After our nails had dried and hardened we were each given a razor and told to go into the bathroom, one by one, and shave our faces absolutely smooth. There was before and after cream on the shelf next to the sink. When we had completed this task we were all given a robe to wear and went down to the kitchen for a bite of lunch. We were instructed on how we walked, talked and ate and also given instruction on how to flick our hair away from our face as we leaned forward; it now having a tendency to fall in front of our eyes.

By the time we had finished, Lesley and Felicity came back loaded with bags and wicked grins on their faces. They complimented Fiona and Faith on the job they had done on us and then we were taken back upstairs. Fiona took Terry into her room, Faith took Steve and Felicity took Bruce. Lesley and I were shown another room which may have been one of the mothers and she put some bags on the bed. “You have all been fantastic with this” she said “I really appreciate what you are all doing for me and I am sure that when you hear the fans screaming your names you will be happy you have made the change.” As she said this she was taking off her own clothes and then proceeded to let me know just how much she appreciated it. I was surprised, as she had never shown any sign of kindness with me before but I suppose she was confirming her power over me; something I didn’t mind at all. We showered together and she scrubbed my back and front, inspecting me for stray hairs. We dried and we dressed together, each item of clothing being described, with its use and methods of attachment.

First was a corset, which was tightened so I could hardly breathe. I was told to stretch myself taller and would be better if I did. Then I had some falsies put into the cups. She, of course was already endowed. Then I was instructed on the right way to roll on my fish-net stockings and attach the tabs. Then it was the control brief for me and bikini panty for her. She then put back on the lace slip she had taken off previously and I had one of my own. Here we diverged; she put her long black dress on while I was given a straight leather skirt, in black, of course, that finished above the knees and had a studded belt. I was then given a pair of mid-calf black boots and told to walk around a bit on the three inch heels. Finally came a black, silky, long sleeved top that showed my new cleavage a bit and felt very nice on my, now smooth, arms. She sat me at the dressing table and worked on my face, giving me a very pale foundation with black lips and plenty of eye liner and shadow, finishing off with lots of mascara.

When I stood up and looked in the full length mirror I could not see Stuart there at all, just a rather plain Goth girl. Lesley then gave me the final part of the costume, a long sleeveless tunic in black, with astrological signs on it, and with a peaked hood. “This is your stage gear” she said, “we also got you some things for normal day use, including a long dress.” We left the room just as Terry and Fiona came out of hers. I could see straight away that Terry had also been shown some appreciation but he now stood there resplendent in a similar out fit to me but with a dress instead of a skirt and top. We looked at each other and he told me I looked hot so I returned the compliment.

Bruce and Felicity then came out into the corridor and he was dressed in a similar way to Terry. We both told him that he was hot and I think that he may have blushed under his pancake make-up. Finally, Steve and Faith joined us. He was in black leather jeans and Lesley explained that this was because he was the drummer and had to sit with his legs wide at times. He still looked good, though, and the three of us told him so. Felicity then told us that girls tend to hug and that, before we go any further, a hug session must be completed. It was OK hugging each of the girls but we were a bit stilted hugging each other and were told to do it again until we satisfied our teachers.

We were then led down to our rooms where we picked up our instruments and then out into the parkland where a big stage had been erected. There were a few workmen still on site and we were a bit slow so Felicity told us that we were a Goth Band so be strong and walk like we owned the place. We went up on stage where the amps were already on and plugged in. Steve got behind the drums and re-arranged them to his liking. We all tried a few chords and Lesley tested out her keyboard. “Right” she said “why don’t we do our stuff as we practised it before we left, starting from the top?”

So we started playing our set. It was a bit odd with the tunic and the hood but it certainly gave us a Goth look. The sisters were grooving in front of the stage and Felicity was taking pictures of us as we played. The further we got into it the better it sounded and, by the time we got to our six recorded songs we were flying. I had started to move around in a way I never had before and I notice Terry and Bruce were bending forward to display their cleavage and shaking their hair about. This was weird, maybe there were dark forces at play here. When we finished there was a smattering of applause from the workmen and I saw His Lordship standing with his daughters, all smiling broadly.

We unplugged and left the stage and our host greeted us with “Now you look the part and you sound good as well, that is greatly satisfying. I think that you will do well during the tour. Now, I think, we need to give you proper names!”

Marianne G 2020

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Comments

Are

Maddy Bell's picture

all Australian stories written in the same way?

Its certainly a popular trope but I sense some twists coming along

Mads


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Madeline Anafrid Bell

Same Author?

I've seen some weak plot devices to get us to the "we have to transform into girls" stage, but this one sets some kind of new record.

Part 1 of this story seemed like we were going to get an interesting story with character development and drama, taking our time, warming up to an interesting saga. Part 2 was a dash from one improbable occurance to the next in some kind of frantic rush to get it over with. Were they actually written by the same person?

Oh, Fuji, this is a fun site

Oh, Fuji, this is a fun site with lots of short stories and many get the transformation done in the first couple of paragraphs.
It is hard to come up with a scenario that has not been done before. How about -- I lived in Smallville USA / was a bad boy / got caught in a dress / upset my sister / insulted the cheerleader / coach ; was made to join the girls / cheer squad / drama class; did so well I was made head cheerleader / homecoming queen / someones wife. Whoops, I've just written another one.
Have a nice day and take your pills.

Marianne