1.

	The no-bullshit bulldozer groove of Van Halen's "Panama" pounded out
of the nightclub's BOSE speakers as Alan Fletcher scanned the crowded
dance-floor.  Sniper-like, his eyes moved across the bar...
	Finally, after a few minutes of fruitless searching, he found what he
had been looking for.  She was young; with supple lips, piercing ice-blue
eyes, and long dark locks.  Perfect.  As she continued to writhe about on
the dancefloor, Alan began to mentally undress her.
	First, off went her shoes.  Working his way up, he removed her tight
leather skirt -- not surprised by the lack of underwear beneath.  Next,
came her blouse.  Again, no underwear.  
	What a fucking slut, he thought.  Just how I like 'em.  
	Sarah Chambers was completely oblivious to the fact that she was
rapidly becoming someone's pinup fantasy.  She continued her snakelike
motions, trying to ignore the hungry stares of her partner -- who she
didn't give a flying fuck about.
	She was in her own little world now, the music becoming lubrication
for her mastabatory fantasy.
	The music died down, some nameless dance tune came on, and Sarah
walked back to her table. She seated herself, reached for her cigarettes,
and lit one.  She gracefully blew a long plume at the blacklights above
her, pausing to scan the bar for anyone worth dancing with.  Just as she
was about to give up, she spotted him... across the bar, a dark-haired
figure had locked eyes with her.
	What the hell, she thought.  Couldn't be any worse than the last guy.
	She killed her smoke, and began to saunter over to his table.  As she
swayed her hips seductively, his eyes never left hers.  It also seemed he
had almost forgotten how to breathe.  
	Actually, he is kind of cute. Maybe I'll do more than dance with him,
she thought.
	Alan was quite happy with all the attention he was getting, as was his
dick.  He felt it get hard as she approached.  She was better than he had
first thought... she would be the best.  The absolute fucking best.
	Sarah arrived at Alan's table, introduced herself, and smiled at him.
She was devastating.  Perfect teeth, perfect breasts, perfect legs.  A
goddess.
	Without saying anything, she seated herself next to Alan, and
forcefully rubbed up against him.  Alan gulped down a mouthful of saliva,
his heart hammering in his chest...
	"C-Can I buy you a drink?" he stammered.
	"Yes, you can." she whispered.  "I'd like something creamy... white...
that runs down my throat." She smirked as she heard him moan.
	"You're beautiful." he replied, for lack of anything better to say.
	"Thank you.  Alan, do you know I've been waiting all night for someone
like you?"
	"You have?" he croaked.
	"Yes.  I think we should go outside and talk about it. Now."  
	As she said this, Sarah ran her index finger along Alan's inner thigh,
sending shock waves through his body.
	
	
	2.

	It was a beautiful night.  The moon was full, as was Alan.  He wanted
Sarah.  In the parking lot, in the back of a car... he didn't care.  He
just wanted her.
	"Alan, can I ask you a question?"
	"Yes?" 
	"Do you want to find some place more private? You know, where we can
get to know each other a little better?"
	Alan's heart was still hammering in his chest at this point, as he
shakily replied: "Yes... I'd like that."
	They found a park, about five or six blocks east of the bar.  Sarah
lay down upon the slightly-damp grass, motioning for Alan to join her. 

	"She's a slut, Alan. Another slut. She must die." a part of his mind
whispered.

	"Alan, are you all right?"  she asked, concerned by the expression of
anger on his face.
	He said nothing, glaring viciously at her.  She began to sit up, but
Alan pinned her to the ground.
	"Alan!!! Stop it!! YOU'RE HURTING ME!!" she screamed.
	"You stupid bitch.  Didn't your mother teach you to never talk to
strangers?  You're going to die slow.  Like all the others.  First I will
remove your clothing.  Do not struggle as it will just make things more
difficult.  Do not scream.  No one will hear you.  No one can save you. 
YOU ARE MINE!!!!"
	"Alan, please...."
	Alan backhanded her across the left cheek, getting more and more
frustrated by her behavior.
	"Shut your fuckhole, bitch!  It can be so easy... just let it happen!!
Death can be very comforting sometimes.  You will see."
	Alan began to remove her blouse... ripping it apart rather than
playing with the buttons.  She began to scream at this point... and Alan
had no choice but to slap her again.
	The sound of Sarah's screaming was like fingernails down a chalkboard. 
She was really beginning to get on Alan's nerves.
	"Close your eyes.  And, please, do not move."
	Sarah did not think closing her eyes would be a very good idea at this
point and she said so:
	"Why?? Are you such a coward my eyes have to be closed?"
	Alan howled in anger at this point, removing his sharp knife from its
bloodstained sheath.
	The knife came down, her hot blood spritzed his face, but she did not
scream.  She did not struggle. Alan thought something was wrong...
dreadfully wrong.
	It could have been a trick of the light, a shadow-play upon her
face...
	But for a second, just a split-second she seemed to smile at him.
	
	
	3.

	Alan Fletcher was nervous.  For no apparent reason, his nerves had all
decided to do the electric chicken at the same time.  His body was now a
symphony of twitches,  his arms and legs performing a silent muscle
concerto.  They would not stop twitching.
	Alan's heart was also not being very pleasant.  Every once in a while,
it would speed up, then slow down, then speed up again -- for no apparent
reason.
	Alan's mind was also having a few problems of its own.  He would see
flashes of her face... her eternal smile burned into his grey matter like
a cerebral tattoo.  Every few minutes he would see her face... hear her
screams... like fingernails down a chalkboard.
	Alan was not having a good day at all.
	He was also quite concerned about the complete lack of coverage of her
death.  He used to love getting up in the morning, having his cup of
coffee and jelly doughnut, and reading about his latest victim in the
local paper... or seeing her face on the news.  But no mention was ever
made of Sarah. Nothing... as if she was never killed.
	Alan glanced down at his watch and realized with outright horror that
he better start getting ready or he'll be late for work!  Off to the
bathroom to shave... the sharp, sharp blade caressing his tender skin--
removing the old hair... making room for the new.  Alan liked to
shave. Basically, he liked anything to do with sharp, sharp things.
	Alan turned on the hot water... the steam running up into the air like
a fog drifting towards shore. It condensed on the mirror in the bathroom,
and Alan rubbed it off with his fingers.
	He reached into the medicine cabinet for the sharp, sharp straight
razor... grasping it tightly as if brandishing a weapon.  He looked into
the mirror and felt his heart jump into his throat.
	She was behind him.  He could see her smiling at him.  Her throat was
dripping blood... and her flesh also appeared to be rather ripe.  She
laughed at Alan.  The sound was garbled... as if she were laughing under
water... or in a pool of blood.
	Sarah Chambers pointed at Alan and began to gurgle hysterically.  Alan
screamed loudly at the mirror, whirling around to see behind him... she
was not there.
	He looked back into the mirror... she smiled back.
	"Aaalllaannn.... Alllllaannnnn...  Iiii'ddd llliiikkkee
sssooommeeettthhhiiiinnnggcccrrreeeaaammyyy aaannnndddd
wwwwhhhhiiiittteee..."
	
	Her throat began to bleed profusely at this point... the crimson fluid
dripping down the mirror into the sink... the mirror began to fill up with
blood.  Sarah gurgled again... and was drowned in a sea of red.
	Alan screamed loudly again... closing his eyes to block out the horror
in front of him.
	After he was done screaming, he somehow found the courage to open his
eyes... seeing nothing but his razor and his shaving cream.  No blood, no
steam, and, of course, no Sarah.
	He stumbled out of the bathroom and screamed again...
	Into the kitchen... he shakily opened a package of cigarettes and
began to light one.
	I was seeing things... just nervous... he thought calmly.
	That was when he noticed the glass beside him... with the bloody
fingerprints all over it... filled tothe brim with semen...
	Alan found himself reaching for the glass...  
	The thick white liquid ran down his throat into his stomach... the
insane laughter ringing in his ears...  he finished the entire glass.  
	After he was done, he screamed until he blacked out under the kitchen
table.
	
	
	4.

	"Alan!!! Stop it!! YOU'RE HURTING ME!" she screamed.
	He slapped her viciously, reaching for his (sharp, sharp) blade.  He
brought the knife down into one exposed breast... the blood gushing up to
meet his face.  Some of the dark fluid landed on his lips, and he licked
it off greedily.
	He stabbed her again... the knife burying itself into her bellybutton
up to the hilt.  The final cut, a lightning slash across her throat.
	The hot blood spritzed his face... and he was in heaven.
	
	That was when she began to laugh.
	
	Alan's mind simply refused to believe what it saw.  She began to smile
at Alan, as her throat sealed itself back up.
	"DIE, BITCH!!!" he screamed as he slashed her throat again.
	There was no blood this time.  There was no scream.  There was no
wound.
	It was as if Alan's knife was made of rubber.
	It bounced right off her neck, and landed harmlessly on the grass.
	She began to rise...
	Hands that felt like cold steel wrapped themselves around Alan's
throat -- tighter by the second. With a horrible crunch, Alan heard his
larynx being crushed.  He could not move... he could not scream... he was
her's...
	
	Alan awoke to the sound of his own screams ringing in his ears.  
Instinctively, he reached for his voicebox.  It was still intact,
apparently.
	Alan was still shaking uncontrollably as the phone jangled noisily. 
He nearly jumped off the bed to answer it.  He clumsily knocked the phone
out of its cradle, taking a deep breath before answering it:
	"H-H-Hello??"
	"Hhheelllooo, Aaaallllaaaannnn...  Hhhooowwww'sss yyyooouuurrrr
tttthhhrroooaaaatttt???"
	"W-w-who a-are you??" he shakily inquired.
	Alan was greeted only with her insane laughter and the sound of
somebody gulping down what sounded like water.
	
	"Aaaalllaaannnn.... Wwwooouuullldddd yyyyoouuu llliiikkkeeee aaa
dddrrriinnnkk??"
	Alan slammed the phone back down into its cradle, the sound of her
slurping locked into his mind like a rhythmic tattoo. 	
	
	(ssssssllllluuuurrrppp...)
	(sssslllllllluuuuuurrrrpppp...)
	(Aaaaalllllaaannnn....)
	(Aaaalllllaannnn....)
	
	She was inside his mind, constantly tormenting him... he needed to get
away from the apartment. He decided to go for a drive. 

	
	5.

	It was a beautiful night, quite like the night Alan had to kill her. 
The moon shone down, a glittering jewel in the black matte sky.  Alan felt
his heart speed up again... he willed it to slow back down.
	His arms and legs twitching, Alan walked over to his car.  His fingers
were shaking so badly he dropped the keys under the car.
	He laughed at himself for being so paranoid, as he bent down under the
car.  He recoiled in horror as he felt something crawl across the back of
his hand, looking down to see nothing.
	He laughed aloud again as he sat down in the driver's seat and locked
the door.  He tried the radio and was disappointed at the static on
seemingly every station.  Alan was not having a good night...
	There was barely any traffic down the freeway as Alan floored the gas. 
He sped down the road,the trees on either side of him nothing but a dark
green blur.  He opened the window on his left, the wind whipping through
his hair, and cracked a smile.  She couldn't find him here.  He was
safe.  He was alone.
	Alan was just beginning to believe himself when she appeared on the
road in front of him... she bled on the road for a few seconds and then
promptly disappeared.  Alan slammed on the brakes, yelping in terror.
	She was gone.


	6.

	Alan continued to drive, trying the radio again... the static doing
nothing for his mounting paranoia.  There would be no music for Alan
tonight...
	Alan's arms began to twitch violently again, his heart hammering in
his chest, his mind flashing lightning images of her rotting corpse
grabbing for him.  He was beginning to quietly lose his mind...
	That was when she appeared in his rearview mirror. He quickly turned
to see the back seat. Empty.  He looked at the mirror again, and she
smiled at him... a thick, creamy white substance dripping from her teeth. 
Again, he turned to see no one...
	He then felt her finger poking him in the back... feeling like a
frozen cattle prod.
	"Yyyoooouuuu'rrrrreeeee IIIIIITTTTTT!!" she screamed.  
	Alan felt his body begin to change.  It started with his hair...
	It began to get longer and thicker, finally stopping when it fell half
way down his back.  His cheekbones suddenly became more prominent, as his
ears shrank and his nose re-sculpted itself.  His nipples began to enlarge
as his breasts blew themselves up like water balloons. 
	He found his clothing begin to change as well.  He was now wearing a
tight black leather skirt and a silk blouse.  It was not quite over...
	His penis began to split down the center, as Alan screamed in horror. 
It began to suck itself into his abdominal cavity, forming a slick vagina
where his cock used to be.  Alan felt his bones become more delicate... he
could feel his internal reproductive organs rearrange themselves -- even
his brain was changing. 
	Alan felt himself turning around to look in the back seat... he
screamed loudly when he saw Alan Fletcher smiling at him.  
He was now Sarah, and she was Alan!
	"So, Alan; or should I say, Sarah, what do you think of your new
equipment?"
	Alan was speechless.  Sarah was smiling...

	
	7.
	
	Alan found himself back in the bar, in Sarah's body, walking towards
his table... as he smiled at her, he realized his fate was sealed.
	Sometimes the seeds of passion bear bitter fruit.
  
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