Date: Wed, 30 Apr 1997 15:03:23 -0500
From: awalters@usit.net (Adam Walters)
Subject: SRU-Riverdale Branch
This contains sex and strong language. If you are under 18, or it is
illegal for you to read this in your country,then please do not read this.
The author holds all rights to this story. This story is copyrighted under
American Law.You can store this story on any web page as long as this
disclaimer and the authors name is
not changed. You can not add to or delete from the story. You must inform the
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internet service.
SRU-RIVERDALE BRANCH
PROLOGUE:
The sun beamed brilliantly across the polished floor of the mall.
It was just after 9 AM on a Saturday and only a few shoppers had appeared.
The old man stood in the doorway of his shop, took another sip of his hot
tea, and glanced towards the front of the mall.
It was so peaceful at these times, he thought. Before the crowds
and the noise. He sighed. This was his time. The moment he allowed
himself each day, before plunging into his work. He took another sip of
the tea, then stepped out into the mall to look at his store.
He cocked his head and stared at the storefront with a critical
eye. Perhaps it was time for a change. His establishment was beginning to
look out-of-date, almost quaint. This had been some much easier in the old
days. Simply slipping the shop into a downtown area, replacing a vacant
store (there always was one)... no one ever questioned. And he had always
blended in. Now... but still, "retro" was in, and, as he had told that
Porter fellow, "everything old is new again".
Hearing a clattering of heels on the polished tile floor, he turned
to see two girls walking towards him. Both were beautiful, probably no
more than 16. The first was a striking brunette wearing a red mini dress
and 2 inch heels. She looked around with disdain at the bargain shops her
friend was window shopping at. Her companion was a cute blonde with her
hair pulled back in a pony tail. She wore tight jeans and sneakers.
The old man smiled, then stepped back into his shop.
"Really, Betty", the brunette said, "why you want to shop at these
dreadful el cheapo places is beyond me."
The blonde sighed, then replied, "Because, Veronica, not everyone
has your money. Some of us HAVE to buy our clothes at discount places.
And these are quite nice clothes, thank you."
"Whatever," Veronica said absently, looking around.
"Oh, look, Ron! That darling green blouse is half off! I'm going
to try it on."
"Huh!" thought Veronica, "It'll be more than HALF off, the first
time you wear it with Archie."
As Betty slipped inside the boutique, Veronica looked around, an
expression of utter disgust on her lovely features. She scanned the
storefronts nearby. She mentally ticked them off :"Tacky... tacky... cheap
AND tacky..." She stopped. Her eye rested on the odd looking shop. It
seemed so out of place. And it looked so DIRTY. Perhaps it was an antique
store. She wandered over to its front window.
Looking in, she saw all manner of items, some junk and some...
some potentially rare things. Was that a Chippendale chair that the dog
was sleeping under? She glanced at the name etched into the glass of the
door. "Spells 'R' Us"
"Huh!" she thought. "How tacky."
Turning the knob, she entered and looked around. It was
surprisingly cool inside, despite the already hot summer day.
"Good morning, Miss Lodge," said a voice almost at her elbow. She
jumped, then whirled to look at the speaker. He was an old man with a long
white beard, broad and bushy, giving his face a Santa Clause appearance at
first glance. However, a closer look revealed fiercely black eyebrows over
eyes that seemed to burn with both intensity and mirth. He was wearing an
exquisite 16th century silk robe. Veronica estimated it to be worth 15
thousand , minimum. Yet, incongruously, protruding from the hem of the
garment were the tips of bunny slippers.
"My apologies," he said in a voice quiet and comforting. "I did
not mean to startle you."
"It's quite all right," she said, her composure returning.
"Can I help you? Was there a particular item you wished to see?"
"Yes," she said, turning to point, "That chair over..." her voice
trailed off. The dog remained asleep in the corner, but the chair under
which it slept was an aluminum and plastic kitchen chair, circa 1957.
She stared. She would have sworn the chair was wood. A
Chippendale. She rubbed her eyes, then shook her head to clear it.
"Yes?" the man prompted, "The chair?"
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I thought...never mind. No, no I'm
not interested in THAT chair." She looked around, trying to retain her
dignity.
The door opened and Betty entered. "There you are," she cried.
"Honestly, Ronnie, next time let me know where you're going." She looked
around curiously. "I never would have expected you to be HERE."
Veronica, somewhat embarrassed to be found in what now appeared to
be a cheap junktique store, lifted her chin and replied haughtily, "I'll
have you know I just came in here for...for..." her eyes darted around the
store, then fixed on a box of small, yellow packages by the cash register.
"For GUM!" she finished, grabbing a pack and slapping it down on the
counter.
The old man smiled, then rang up the purchase. "75 cents," he said.
Veronica began rummaging through her purse. "Oh, dear," she said,
holding out a bill, "The smallest I've got is a hundred."
The old man began to reach for the twenties slot of his cash drawer
when Betty said, "Never mind, Ron." She fished out a dollar from her hip
pocket and handed it to the man. "Here you go," she said, giving him a
broad smile.
"Thank you, Miss Cooper," he said, grinning in reply.
Betty took the quarter he offered, tossed Ronnie the gum, and
turned to go.
"Remember, ladies," the old man called, "always read the directions."
Betty looked at him oddly, then opened the door. Veronica pushed
past her, cheeks still flushed with embarrassment.
As they moved back into the mall, Betty suddenly stopped and said,
"Hey! How'd that old guy know my name? Did you tell him?"
"Betty, dear, you know I don't talk about you if I can help it."
"Hah-hah. Big surprise." she said. They continued on for a while,
window shopping, until Betty said thoughtfully, "Say, what do you think he
meant about reading instructions?"
"I have no idea, Betty. All I bought was this gum," she said
holding up the yellow pack. "Shit!" she exclaimed.
"What's wrong?" Betty asked.
"This!" said Ronnie, holding out the gum. Betty took the pack and
examined it. Despite its familiar yellow appearance, a closer look
revealed not the familiar "Juicyfruit" logo, but rather the words
"Geniefruit", while underneath was printed the slogan: 'A Wish in Every
Stick'.
"Can you believe it," Ronnie ranted. "The bastard sold me
KNOCK-OFF gum! And for more than the real stuff costs!"
"Hmmm," said Betty, turning the package over in her hands. "Hey,
look at this. It really does have instructions."
"Oh, yeah," continued Ronnie, snatching the gum and shoving it deep
into her purse, " 'Put in mouth. Chew.' Big fuckin' deal!"
"Don't forget 'Do not attempt to walk while chewing'," Betty giggled.
Ron smiled, and they headed out the doors towards the car.
Part 1: VERONICA
Veronica Lodge has always been a sound sleeper. In fact, were one
to ask the staff at the Lodge mansion, one could be told that the dainty
Miss Lodge can saw wood with the best of them. So it was not surprising
when she slept right through her alarm clock on Tuesday morning. 8 AM came
and went, as did 9. And 10. And 11.
When she awakened, blissful and refreshed, at the crack of 11:45,
Miss Lodge stretched, yawned, glanced at the clock, and began to scream.
"SMITHERS!" she bellowed, her voice echoing through the halls of
the mansion like a foreman's.
Taking the steps two at a time, the faithful butler skidded to a
stop in Veronica's doorway. "Yes,... Miss Veronica?" he gasped.
"Smithers, you ASSHOLE!" she screamed. You KNOW I have a date with
Archie at 12:30! How the Hell do you expect me to get ready in time?!"
Smithers, in fact, did not know anything about Veronica's date, nor
did anyone else on the household staff. Veronica never informed them of
these things, preferring to use her ESP to broadcast the news.
"Miss Veronica," the panting man stammered, "I had no idea..."
"Shut up!" she snarled. "Get in the bathroom and draw me a bath.
I've got to see what I've going to wear."
Smithers hurried to the tub, while Veronica flung open her closet
and walked inside. She paused to remember exactly where she and Archie
were going. Oh yes, a picnic. God, she hated picnics. She wasn't even
all that fond of Archie.
He was really pretty disappointing in the sack. Sort of a "Wham,
Bam, Thank you ma'am" without the Wham or the Bam. In fact, he wasn't very
thankful, either. Ronnie wasn't really very fond of him at all. Not like
Reggie. She smiled. Reggie. Now THERE was something worth riding. He
could stay hard for hours and she loved it. He even got into her kinky
games. Not like Archie. That dud, with his perennial missionary style,
68-second fuck. Sigh! Why, in heaven's name was she getting ready for a
picnic with Archie when a stud like Reggie was a phone call away?
The answer came in one word: Betty. Betty wanted Archie. And,
Ronnie felt, actually deserved him. She, in her whitebread mid-American
wholesomeness, and he of the boring, G-rated fuck. They really belonged
together. If she had her way, she'd give him to her. She really would.
Except for one thing: Betty WANTED him.
As long as Betty wanted the little prick, Ronnie would die rather
than give him up. And to keep him, she had to keep him happy. She began
to practice. Sorting through her wardrobe, she whispered hoarsely, " Oh
God, oh God! Ohhh, that feels so good! Harder, baby! Harder! Oh! Oh!!
OH!!!" She rolled her eyes. "How does he never manage to catch on" she
wondered. "Probably because the only other pussy he's ever poked is
Betty's. And she probably says the same thing. But," she giggled," I bet
she actually MEANS it."
She dropped her outfit on the bed. Tube top, short shorts,
sandals. Underwear optional. "Sigh," she thought, " Of course, this means
he'll have a hard-on the whole time. Again. I'd better drive. After the
last time he tried to drive with a boner, we almost went into the lake."
With that, she grabbed her designer fanny pack and began loading it with
essentials from her purse.
As her hands raked across the purse bottom, she found the pack of
gum where she'd tossed it Saturday. Absently, she tore it open and popped
a stick into her mouth.
"Miss Veronica," Smithers announced, "Your bath is ready."
"About damn time," she snarled, tossing the fanny pack to the bed,
spilling its contents across the silken sheets. "Shit!" she exclaimed,
"Shit, shit, shit!! Hell, just leave it there. I've gotta get ready."
With that, she let the satin nightgown drop from her tan shoulders,
caught it with a flip of her leg and tossed it into the face of the butler.
Pirouetting, she smiled and asked, "Like what you see, Smithers?"
His face an expressionless mask, Smithers dryly remarked,
"Adequate, I think."
"You asshole," she said with a grin, then turned and headed into
the bathroom, all the while enjoying the hard-on she saw straining against
the butler's smartly creased trousers.
Veronica slipped into the hot, bubbled waters and lay back. She
closed her eyes and began to relax. Her breathing grew slower and soon the
sound of snoring filled the room.
Nonplused, Smithers entered the bathroom carrying a silver pitcher
of ice water. Walking to the tub, he emptied the contents over Veronica's
head. She leapt to her feet, drenching the room and the butler.
"What...," she began, her voice trembling with rage, " What the
FUCK was that?!"
"Ice water," he replied.
"I know it was fucking ice water, you prick! What was it doing on
my head?!"
"As you stated earlier, you have a date with Master Archie in..."
he checked his pocket watch, "32 minutes. You have no time to sleep. Good
day, Miss Veronica."
She shook with rage as she watched him leave the room. She was
pissed. And she was pissed because he was right. Damn it, she hated it
when Smithers was right. She hopped back into the tub and began hurriedly
soaping her legs. She'd get him, she thought. Just wait'll next time they
played "Mistress and Manservant". No nookie for him. Hah! She began to
feel better already.
-----
Twenty minutes later, she sat in front of her enormous vanity
mirror, rollers in her hair and a copious amount of mud pack obscuring
herfeatures. She stared at her reflection, then crossed her eyes and blew
a
bubble. She giggled. Thank God Archie couldn't see her now.
She walked over to the bed and began to wiggle the short shorts up
her legs. Suddenly, she heard the chimes of the front door bell. From far
away, she heard voices talking, then the pounding of feet up the stairs.
"Ronnie!" a voice called, "Are you ready yet?"
Archie! Shit! She was nowhere near ready. And she looked awful.
She couldn't let him see her like this. It just wasn't done. She looked
around for somewhere to hide. As she heard the doorknob rattle, she hissed
under her breath, "I wish I could just disappear."
And with that, Veronica Lodge, 16 year-old heiress, cheerleader,
tease, and sexual adventuress, vanished.
The door swung open and a red-headed, freckle-faced boy stood in
the doorway. He scanned the room, then shrugged. With hunched shoulders,
he slowly left the mansion. "Huh!" he thought, "Blew me off again. She's
probably out with Reggie. Man, why do I put up with her?"
He slowly trudged towards the Chocklit Shop, leaving behind the
very elegant and very EMPTY room of Veronica Lodge.
Part 2: JUGHEAD
Jughead Jones was hungry. He was always hungry. In fact, he could
not recall a moment in his life when he had not been hungry. So it was a
testimony to his friendship to Archie Andrews that at this moment, he was
passing up the opportunity to enjoy a plate of burgers at the Chocklit
Shop, and was hunting for his friend. Jughead knew Arch had a date with
Ronnie at 12:30. He also knew Ronnie had never been on time in her life,
so he felt his chances for catching Archie at her house were good.
He bounded up the back steps of the Lodge mansion (his favorite
method of entering, as the kitchen lay there) and poked his head inside.
Gaston, the French chef employed by the Lodges, stood surrounded by
seemingly mountains of food. Jughead's eyes glazed over and he began to
drool.
"Gaston," he called, "Mi amigo, ma compadre'..."
"Non!" interrupted the Frenchman. "Non, non, non! Not a bite,
Zughaid, not a morsel! Ziz is for Mister Lodge's dinnair party tonight!"
"But Gaston," Jug began, "There's so much... Nobody'd miss a little
bit?"
"Alors'!" Gaston cried, "Wiz you, zere is no such zing as a LEETLE bit!"
Jug tried to look pitiful, but even he couldn't keep from laughing
at this. He said, "All right, I know when I'm licked."
Gaston regarded him with suspicion, but also grinned.
"Anyway, I really came by to see if Arch was here. Have you seen him?"
"Non, but I 'eard him go up ze stairs to Mam'selle Veronica's room
a short time ago. He's probably still zere."
"Thanks, Gaston."
"Zughaid. Wait a moment," Gaston called.
Jug turned and Gaston said with a wink, "Ef zay are togather in
Mam'selle Veronica's room, you'll probably 'ave to wait."
Jug grinned in agreement.
"'owever," Gaston continued, slipping him a cold drumstick, "Since
it is Archee, she is weeth, it shouldn't be a LONG wait, non?"
"Not long at all," agreed Jug, taking the offered treat and moving
up the back stairs. "Not long at all."
Jug moved down the second floor hallway, licking his lips. Nearing
Veronica's door, he paused to drop the flayed drumstick bone into a large
flowerpot. He stepped to the open door and knocked.
"Hello?" he called. Stepping inside, he looked around. Seeing no
sign of his good buddy or Riverdale's Teen Queen, Jug was about to leave
when something caught his eye. There, on Ronnie's bed lay an open pack of
gum. It was no ice cream cone, but Jug WAS in need of something sweet to
finish off his little snack. He unwrapped a stick and began to chew. His
mind drifted back to the mountains of goodies surrounding Gaston in the
kitchen. Absently, he slipped the gum into his pocket.
His food fantasies were making him drool again. He wiped his mouth
with back of his hand and said, "Damn! Food like that is enough to make me
wish I was Veronica."
And with that, Jughead's body began to twitch and squirm, flesh
flowing like water. His already thin waist constricted, moving higher on
his torso. His hips widened, threatening to rip the seams of his chinos.
His chest swelled, forcing the 'S' on his shirt high and wide. His black
hair grew longer, falling past his shoulders, and his fingernails formed
themselves into perfect ovals. He seemed to shrink all over, becoming both
smaller and shorter. And his nose... his impossibly huge, distinctively
Jonesish beak, shrank into a tiny, upturned button on his now smooth face.
His swollen chest separated into two distinct, round shapes, his
tiny nipples standing erect against the rough fabric of his tee-shirt.
And down below, his secret weapon, his dick, his monumental 13 inch rod,
dwindled to nothing, swallowed by his body. Then that body began to split,
opening into a warm, wet slit between his legs.
His hands flew to his crotch, then to his breasts. A look of
horror was etched on his now-lovely features. "Shit." he whispered, in a
voice not his own. At the sound of the soft, high-pitched tones, his hand
left his crotch to grasp his throat. "Oh my God!" he gasped, in a voice
like honey.
He stared at himself, his clothes fitting his now-feminine frame
oddly, yet provocatively. He tore his eyes away from his body and looked
around the room wildly. Spying the large vanity mirror, he raced towards
it.
Or tried to.
His new arrangement of weight and mass, not to mention pants now
too long for him, combined to bring him crashing to the ground within three
steps. With tears beginning to flow, he pulled himself to his knees and
crawled across the room. Reaching the vanity, he struggled into the chair
and stared disbelievingly into the glass.
Looking back at him, hair disheveled and tears dripping from her
cheeks, was Veronica Lodge.
He reached a trembling hand to his face and watched in horror as
the girl in the glass did the same thing. He reached for the tiny nose,
moving his fingers across it in wonder. He examined the hand touching the
nose. Small, delicate fingers with perfect nails. No sign of the small
scar on the back of the left hand, a memento of a barb-wire fence when he
was ten. He stared at his deep green eyes, no longer the brown he'd known
for sixteen years. Reaching upward with his small, delicate hands he
removed the grey felt, crown-shaped hat he always wore. His hair, though
standing out at wild angles, shown with luster and fell in waves across
his shoulders.
He moved his hands lower, lifting the tee shirt to stare in wonder
at the twin forms on his chest. He touched one nipple with a fingertip,
experiencing a tingle of pleasure. He cupped them in each hand, index
fingers massaging the nipples. An involuntary moan escaped his lips, its
throaty, feminine quality bringing his mind back to reality. He pulled his
hands away as though his breasts were hot coals.
Shuddering with a mixture of pleasure and revulsion, he unzipped
his chinos and slipped a hand inside his shorts. His fingers met warm, wet
flesh. Hesitating only a moment, he slipped a finger inside his new-found
opening. More fingers quickly joined the first, while the other hand
spread the lips wide as he bent nearly double trying to see this mysterious
object. His fingertips brushed something and he almost slid out of the
chair. Carefully, he felt for the object again, lightly brushing it.
Again, waves of pleasure filled him.
With a mixture of clinical detachment and Christmas-morning joy, he
realized it was his clit! Ronnie's clit! No, damn it, HIS clit! He began
to stroke it, faster and faster, his hips unconsciously thrusting him out
of the chair again and again. Then it happened. A pressure, building and
building in his groin suddenly exploded, washing over him with wave after
wave of pleasure.
As the roaring in his ears subsided, he realized he could hear
someone squealing with pleasure. Then he realized it was him! He clamped
his jaw shut and listened hard. He could hear footsteps coming down the
hall! "Oh God," he though, "Oh God, I 'm caught. They've caught me
jerkin' off in Ronnie's room. Oh God."
Suddenly, Smithers stood in the doorway, his large frame filling it
and preventing anyone else from entering. Jug looked at him miserably,
cheeks flushed crimson, hands still in his crotch.
Smithers sighed, then turned to the rest of the staff. "False
alarm, everyone. It appears Miss Veronica has...spilled something on
herself."
The others moved away, quite a few of them grinning with surety of
what had really happened. Smithers stepped inside and quietly closed the
door. He stood over Jug and looked at him disapprovingly. "Really,
Veronica," he said, exasperation in his voice, " I thought you were over
this? You haven't done one of your 'happy squeals' in ages."
Jug just stared uncomprehendingly, overcome with embarrassment.
"Must 'uv been a good one, eh?" Smithers said with a wink. Jug
said nothing, but looked away, unable to meet another man's gaze in such a
situation. Smithers sighed, then reached down and extracted Jug's hands
from his pussy. He arched an eyebrow at the boxer shorts, but said
nothing. Veronica had certainly engaged in much kinkier clothing before.
He grasped Jug by the elbows and brought him unsteadily to his feet. As he
stood there, still dazed, Smithers tugged the chinos back in place and
zipped them up. He gently placed an arm around Jug's considerably smaller
shoulders and let him into the bathroom.
Jug stood like a child as Smithers took his dainty hands in his
large ones and began to scrub them under the tap. Finished, Smithers took
the towel and dried Jug's hands, then squirted a dollop of lotion in each
palm. Without thinking, Jug rubbed the lotion in.
"I gather you no longer are meeting Master Archie for the picnic?"
Smithers asked , maneuvering Jug back into the bedroom.
Realizing Smithers was waiting for an answer, Jug turned to him and
managed, "No...no, I'm...I'm not."
Smithers nodded knowingly, though he had no idea why she'd changed
her mind. Poor kid probably said something wrong. Veronica could be a
real bitch when she wanted to.
"It's just as well, Miss," he said. "You don't seem very steady
today. Perhaps you're ill. Or is it that time of month again?"
Jug tried, but he just couldn't make his mind grasp what Smithers
had said. "Ill...I guess," he mumbled.
"Well, stand there," Smithers said, opening a bureau drawer.
Rummaging, he pulled out a emerald green nightgown and laid it on the bed.
Turning to Jug, he pulled the tee-shirt over his head, showing no surprise
at the lack of a bra. Unzipping the pants, he dropped them to the floor.
Seeing the boxers, he turned to another drawer and removed a matching pair
of green panties. Slipping Jug out of the boxers, he shimmied the silken
panties into place, then lowered the nightgown over Jug's head. Then,
seating Jug on the bed, Smithers removed the thick, white socks and tossed
them into the garbage can.
Pushing Jug down, Smithers pulled the covers over him, kissed him
on the forehead, and said, "Rest now. You should be fine in a few hours."
He left, closing the door behind him.
Jughead Jones, 16 year-old woman-hater, work-avoider, food-maniac,
and BOY lay there, in his panties and nightgown, feeling his breasts rise
and fall with each breath. He inched his hands back toward his crotch.
After several orgasms, Jug was feeling considerably mellower. In
fact, he positively glowed. He rolled and stretched, enjoying the feel of
each and every sensation. He felt good. He felt great. He felt...hungry.
In many ways, this relieved his mind. Hunger was familiar to him.
It was an old friend. He felt more like himself. And he remembered all
that food Gaston had in the kitchen. And he was Veronica, now. Gaston
couldn't keep him from eating all he wanted. He licked his lips.
He rolled out of bed and peeled off the nightgown. He grabbed his
chinos and worked them over his wide hips. Zipping them up, he tossed on
his tee-shirt and headed downstairs. Whatever had caused this was beyond
Jug's experience. He needed to think things over. And he always thought
better on a full stomach.
-----
Part 3: BETTY
Several hours later, Jug sat in the Lodge dining room, a score of
dirty plates scattered around him. He was just finishing a BLT and musing
over his new situation when Betty walked in. She stared at him, unable to
believe what she saw. There sat Veronica Lodge, the queen of fashion, the
ultimate snob, Riverdale's #1 diet maven, absolutely stuffed, grease and
ketchup on her cheeks, food stains on her clothes, bread crumbs in her
hair, and her pants undone to allow her belly more freedom.
Betty had known something was wrong when Smithers and Gaston had
called. They had been frantic. According to them, Veronica had come
downstairs after a nap and demanded that Gaston fix her plate after plate
of food, which she devoured with gusto. And she showed no signs of
slowing.
Betty had rushed right over, fearing Veronica's many neuroses may
have spread to include Bulimia. But this... This was beyond any bulimic
she'd ever heard of. This was...this was Jughead scale eating.
Ronnie saw her and waved her to a chair. She burped loudly, then
said, "Woah, that felt good. How ya doin', Bets?"
"Uh...fine, I think. How are YOU?"
"Actually," Ron began, taking a bite of a chicken leg, "I was
feeling really weird, but now I'm feeling much better."
"I...I see," Betty said, staring at the empty plates.
"Oh, hey, you want something?" Ron said, motioning to the food.
"No, no thanks."
"Aw, com'on...have something," she said shoving a steak sandwich in
Betty's face.
"No!" yelled Betty. "I mean, no, I've...already eaten."
"Hey," Ron said, eyes lighting up," I know! How about some gum?"
"I...sure, I'll take some gum." This was not going well. She
couldn't seem to get Ronnie to quit fixating on food. Maybe if she took
the gum, they could move on to another subject.
Ron fished the pack out of her pocket and tossed Betty a stick.
Chewing, Betty said, "Uh, Ron...are you okay?"
"Sure," said Ron, shoving a handful of chips into her mouth. "Why
wouldn't I be?"
"Oh, I don't know," Betty began, "Maybe because you're eating like
a PIG!!"
"Really?" asked Ron, pieces of chips flying from her mouth.
"Really! God! What is the matter with you?"
Ronnie's face changed and she put down her sandwich. Her face
turned serious. "Listen, Betty...you really wanna know?"
"D-uh!" said Betty, in exasperation.
"Okay," Ron began, "It's like this: Something totally weird has
happened today. I've...I've TOTALLY CHANGED. I'm...I'm not myself
anymore. I've become someone else."
"God, that's TRUE!," said Betty. "You're nothing like yourself."
"But, see, I AM. I am like myself. It's just that myself isn't
the self you're expecting. You're expecting Ronnie's self. And I'm not
her."
"Oh God," Betty thought, "It's worse than I thought. She's freaked
out. Split personality." She started to cry.
"Hey, Betty..." Ron said, "Don't cry. It'll be okay."
"I'm...I'm sorry," Betty sobbed, "I don't...Why are...God, Ronnie!
I just wish you'd act like the Ronnie I know!"
Immediately, Betty could see Ronnie's face change. Her composure
was back. Her posture changed. No longer sprawled in a chair but she sat
with the grace of someone who knows she's better than you'll ever be. She
watched as Ronnie stared at her clothes, then the plates of food with a
look of horror. Ronnie's eyes grew wide, then she began to scream.
Betty moved to comfort her, but before she could reach her, Ron was
off and running up the stairs.
Betty started after her, but was stopped by a voice. "Miss Betty?"
Smithers asked.
Betty gave him a confused look and said with a shrug, "I don't
know. But she seems to have snapped out of it. I HOPE."
Betty hurried up the stairs. She found Ronnie in the bathroom,
head over the toilet, forcing a finger down her throat. She turned away as
Ronnie heaved again. "God," she thought, "I was right. Bulimia."
She walked back into Ronnie's room and waited, trying to think how
to handle this.
In the bathroom, Veronica Lodge continued to induce vomiting,
emptying herself of all that food Jug had wanted so badly. He couldn't
understand it. How could he have wanted all that food? He had a figure to
maintain. And his clothes! They may have been okay when he was a boy, but
he was Veronica Lodge now. He must always look and dress his best.
He shoved a finger down his throat again, but only dry heaves
resulted. "Thank God," he thought. He washed his face and looked in the
mirror. How had this happened? He still didn't know, still didn't
understand. And where the hell was the REAL Veronica? He didn't have any
answers. But he felt very different now than before. It was like...he
LIKED being Veronica.
"No," he whispered, "it's like I WANT to be Veronica. Want it more
than anything."
He smiled. He tossed his hair. He stuck out his hip. "God," he
thought, "I am one hot mama." He looked towards the bedroom. "Hotter
than Little Tits in there," he thought smugly, "But who the hell isn't?"
He squared his shoulders, gave his big, beautiful breasts a squeeze, and
walked into the bedroom.
Betty smiled nervously at her friend as she came out of the
bathroom. "So..." she said, "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," Ronnie said with a smile. "Better and a half!"
Betty eyed her questioningly, but Ronnie ignored her and walked
back into the bathroom. Betty followed.
Ron turned on the bath, adjusting the temperature to suit her, then
emptied some of her expensive Parisian bubble bath into the water. "$50 an
ounce," thought Jug, then stopped. "Why did I think about that," he
wondered. "I've never been hung up on what things cost. Have I?" He
thought hard, remembering he hadn't, but now unable to understand why he
hadn't. Money was so IMPORTANT. It was so obvious. Just like looking
your best. God, where had his head been at?
He stood and peeled off the tee-shirt. This was pathetic. What a
rag. Why had he practically lived in them until now? He tossed the shirt
into the garbage can. Then, emptying the pants pockets, he tossed them as
well. He hid the contents of the pants from Betty, no longer feeling any
desire to let her know he wasn't really Veronica. He was--No. SHE. She
was Veronica Lodge and she was damn well gonna stay that way.
She slipped out of her panties,slid into the hot, bubbled water and
lay back. She closed her eyes and began to relax.
"Ahem," said Betty.
Ronnie opened one eye and stared at her. As Jughead, he had always
liked Betty. In fact, she was his favorite fuck, since she got so wild
when they did it. Now, however, she was finding her tiresome. Betty
really was a tawdry little thing. So tacky. Why hadn't she seen it
before? "Yes?" she asked.
"Uh, Ron, you uh, you wanna talk?"
"No, not particularly."
"You don't think what you did was unusual?"
"Hell, yes, it was unusual! It was sick!," Ron said, sitting up
and sloshing water on the floor. "But it's over. I'm myself again.
Veronica Lodge is back, and I'm feeling fine."
"And that's it?" asked Betty.
"Yes, that's it. Goodbye." she said, with a wave of her hand.
Fuming at her friend's condescension, Betty stalked towards the
bedroom door. As she turned the knob, she heard Veronica call, "Betty?"
"Well," thought Betty, "Maybe she's actually gonna apologize." She
walked back to the bathroom door. "Yes?" she asked.
"Oh, Betty, be a dear and ask Smithers to bring me a glass of tea.
Caffeine free, of course."
"Arrgh!" mumbled Betty as she slammed the door.
"What is her problem?" mused Veronica, as her long delicate fingers
snaked towards her pussy for the third time that day.
Downstairs, Betty stopped and helped Smithers clear away the last
of the dishes in the dining room. He looked at her questioningly. She
shrugged.
"She seems to be her old self again. Must be. She got me mad as
hell before I left. Oh, and her highness wants you to bring her a glass of
tea. 'Caffeine free, of course'"
Smithers smiled. Everything must be back to normal. Veronica was
being snotty and obnoxious and Betty was pissed off about it. "Well, try
not to be so upset, Miss Betty. She IS your friend." he said, taking the
plates from her.
Betty laughed. "I know," she said, "That's the hell of it. She
really thinks she's being a good friend."
"Good-bye, Miss Betty. Thank you again."
"Sure, Smithers, no trouble." And with that, she stood on tiptoes
and kissed him full in the mouth. She parted her lips and the kiss lasted
well over a minute. When they parted, she whispered huskily, "I need
taking care of, too, Smithers."
"Of course, Miss Betty, but when..."
"Tonight, damn you....My folks are out of town and I need it bad,
Smithers! BAD!"
"Tonight, then," he smiled. Then, patting her behind, he guided
her to the door.
"You won't forget?" she asked, with childlike desperation.
"I never do," he said, then closed the door.
Her mood considerably happier now, Betty wandered down the sidewalk
towards home, whistling "God Save the Queen".
Part 4: ARCHIE
Wednesday morning found Archie Andrews depressed. It also found
him quite horny, since he hadn't gotten off in over two days. Veronica'd
ditched him yesterday, probably for a quick one with Reggie, he thought.
Typically, Archie assumed it was a "quick one", lacking any personal
experience with anything else. Then Betty was busy last night, doing her
damn hair. And her folks were out of town! Shit! His luck was awful.
And on top of everything else, he couldn't find Jughead.
Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews had been best friends since grade
school. They'd been through good times and bad, always there for each
other. But now, Jughead was missing. No one had seen him since yesterday
morning. His folks were frantic. This just wasn't like Jug.
Archie had spent the whole of yesterday (once it became apparent he
wasn't getting any) looking for his friend. Despite his best efforts,
Jughead was nowhere to be found. The last anyone had seen of him was when
Gaston had sent him up to see Ronnie. But Ron said he never got there.
She hadn't seen him. And she didn't seem to really care. God, she could
be a bitch at times, he thought.
Today, he was at it again. He'd been up since six, checking Jug's
favorite eateries. No sign of him. And business was down 10%. Archie
smiled. If Jug didn't turn up soon, the Riverdale fast food industry was
going to experience a recession. He checked one last place,
Harry's Hideout, a dirty little place across town where Jug occasionally
went for potato pancakes. No luck. With head down and hands in pocket,
Archie trudged back towards Pop Tate's Chocklit Shop. If Jug showed up
anywhere, it'd be there.
As he crossed Oak Street, he turned and looked south out of habit.
Four houses down was Betty Cooper's house. Archie paused, thinking about
Betty, her long, golden pony tail flipping through the air as she rode his
cock. He began to get hard, just thinking about it. He turned and looked
north towards the Chocklit Shop, then south to Betty's. He shrugged and
headed south.
Cutting across the grass, he poked his head into the Cooper's
garage. Empty. Her folks weren't back yet. He smiled. His chances began
to look better. He bounded up the kitchen steps and drew back his hand to
knock. He stopped. From inside, he heard a man's voice. Then giggling.
"Huh?" thought Archie, "I thought her folks weren't back. Maybe
they got back, then Mrs. Cooper had to go somewhere with the car. Damn!"
He felt the need for a cold shower. Taking a deep breath, he began to
recite the multiplication tables to himself. He hadn't been much of a
boner and it only took through the 4's for it to wither away. He knocked
on the door.
Suddenly the laughter stopped, followed by the sounds of rushing
around. After a few moments, Betty's sleep-tousled head appeared in the
door. Holding her light cotton robe closed to the neck, she looked out.
Spying Archie, she smiled and released her hand, allowing the robe to
dangle invitingly open. She unlocked the door and said, "Well, hi, early
bird. What are you doing out of bed at this time of day?"
"Looking for Jug," Archie said, looking around. Betty looked at
him questioningly. He gestured towards the living room, "I thought your
dad was here," he said.
"No," she said, blushing ever so slightly, "Just me. Just little
ol' Betty."
"I was sure I heard a man talking..." He began.
"Television," she said immediately. "Television. I was watching
television. LOUD television."
"Oh," he said, slightly confused.
Betty, still looking slightly embarrassed, asked, "Hey, you want
some coffee? Or some toast?"
"Nah," he said, remembering now why he had dropped by. He moved
close to her. Slipping his arms around her perfectly proportioned frame,
he said, "I just thought, since your folks weren't back yet..." He let his
hands slide to her rear, confirming his suspicion that she was naked
underneath.
She felt him grow hard inside his jeans and pressed herself to him.
She kissed him hard, their tongues intertwining. Reaching down, she
unzipped his fly with practiced ease. As she pulled him free, he slipped
the tie on her robe and she swiftly wrapped her legs hard around his waist.
Easing herself onto him, she began to moan.
-----
As he thrust hard upward, she began to ride with wild abandon no
one would believe her capable of. "No one but Archie," she thought,
thrusting harder and faster, "And Jughead. Sweet, sweet Juggie. And
Reggie. And..."
Her mind began to lose count, as she squirmed in passion, a high,
throaty moan escaping her lips. And as she began to cry out with pleasure,
Smithers quietly slipped out the front door and walked down the street.
"Remarkable girl," he thought. "Only awake 45 minutes and already
having her second fuck of the day." He sighed. He was getting too old for
this.
As he walked down the sidewalk, briskly twirling his umbrella, he
saw Mr. and Mrs. Cooper drive by. "My," he thought to himself, "This
should be good."
He turned to watch.
Two minutes later, he saw a white-faced Archie Andrews shoot out
the very door he had used to exit the Cooper home not ten minutes before.
The boy ran along, attempting to both tuck in his shirt and zip up his
jeans. Had Smithers not called out, he would more than likely been bowled
over by the young Lothario.
"Master Archie," he called, no trace of knowledge showing on his
impassive face.
"Smithers!" He cried, barely stopping short of the butler.
"What...what are you doing here?" he asked, still trying to zip his jeans.
"Stop!" said Smithers, in a commanding voice. Archie froze in
guilt. Looking more kindly, Smithers said, "Unzip them all the way, then
slowly use BOTH hands to pull them to the top."
Following Smithers' orders, Archie soon managed to right himself.
Then, sheepishly, he asked, "Uh...Smithers....are you, uh...you know...just
out for a walk?"
Deciding he had had enough fun, and not wishing to explain exactly
why he WAS there, Smithers nodded. "Exactly. I was taking my morning
constitutional when I observed..." he paused, seeing the uncomfortable look
in the boy's eye. Continuing, he said, "When I observed you coming down
the sidewalk towards me in some distress."
Archie breathed a sigh of relief. Then, his narrow escape and
humiliation behind him, he remembered exactly what had started all this.
"Smithers," he asked, "Have you seen Jughead? Today or yesterday? He
seems to have vanished."
Smithers paused, thinking back. "No, Master Archie, I haven't seen
Master Jughead in days. Of course, he usually enters via the kitchen."
"Okay. Thanks, anyway." He waved and hurried towards the Chocklit
Shop as Smithers turned and, humming "Thank Heaven for Little Girls",
headed home.
By midday, Archie had to admit that his best friend had vanished.
Jughead was nowhere to be found. Archie had asked everyone if they'd seen
Jug. Unfortunately, as word spread, more and more kids became award of
Jughead's disappearance and Archie found HIMSELF being asked if he'd seen
Jug.
Betty, who'd joined him at the Chocklit Shop shortly after her
parents had returned, sat across the booth from Archie. Beside him sat
Dilton Doily, Riverdale's resident genius. Across from them, beside Betty,
sat Big Moose, varsity fullback. Dilton was outlining a plan to feed all
relevant facts into his computer and have it compute the most likely place
for Jughead to be. Moose held a stack of "missing" flyers to nail up
around town. The Chocklit Shop had in short order become a beehive of
activity dedicated to finding Jughead Jones.
Archie glanced around, seeing many familiar faces. It seemed as if
all of Riverdale were in on the hunt. All, he noted, but two. Reggie
Mantle and Veronica Lodge were conspicuously absent. Archie felt the blood
rush to his head. He was sure they were together. This really pissed him
off. Jughead missing, who-knows-where, and they're off banging their
brains out!
Realizing Dilton had stopped talking and was waiting for an answer,
Archie turned his attention to his friends again. "Uh...yeah, Dilt. That
sounds great. Why don't you get right on that. I'm uh, I'm gonna work on
something on my own." He slipped out of the booth and headed out the door.
Shrugging, Betty followed. Halfway down the sidewalk, she caught
up to him.
"So," she said, "Whatcha doin'?"
"Nothing."
"Uh huh."
They walked along in silence for a while.
"You know, Arch, I couldn't help noticing your 'nothing' leads
straight to Veronica's house."
"Yeah. So?"
"So...you expect Juggie to be THERE?"
Archie stopped, momentarily confused. He had been so jealous he
had forgotten all about Jughead. "Some friend," he thought.
"Uh...well," he began,"No, I don't expect him to BE there. But I
do expect to find out why Ronnie's not helping look for him."
"Um...that's probably not a good idea," Betty began.
"Why?" Archie yelled, turning to her. "Is it because she's with
Reggie? Is that it? Are you covering for her? Huh? Are you, SLUT?"
Betty calmly reached up and slapped Archie across the cheek. She
hit him with such force that he spun around and fell into the grass. Betty
squatted beside him. "Excuse me," she said, digging one finger into her
ear, "I don't think I heard you correctly. What was that?"
"Why," Archie moaned, "exactly, would that be a bad idea, Betty, dear?"
She sat down beside him and cradled his head in her lap. "Because,
Archiekins, Veronica was...acting rather odd yesterday."
"What'cha mean?" he said, still slightly dazed.
"Um..."she screwed up her face and said, "Kinda like she wasn't
herself. Actually..." he voice trailed off.
Archie looked up, seeing a far-away look in her eyes. "Bets?" he asked.
"You know," she said, wonderingly, "Ronnie was acting a lot like
JUGGIE. At least at first. Then she straightened up and became her old,
bitchy self."
"Juggie?" Archie repeated.
"Yeah," said Betty, helping him to his feet. "Wonder if it means
anything?"
"Let's go see," he said, starting off.
And this time, there wasn't a thought of Reggie in his head.
Veronica Lodge sat cross-legged on her bed. She stared down at the
items resting on her silken sheets. A comb, some change, a pocket knife,
nail clippers, a pack of gum with two sticks left (which was hers, anyway,
she thought as she tossed it to the nightstand) ,a billfold, and a grey
felt, crown-shaped hat. The mortal remains of Jughead Jones.
Ronnie felt odd looking through them. Even though she knew they
were hers. Had been hers. When she was Jughead. Still, she was Veronica
now. And going through these things seemed strange. But she had to get
rid of them.
Everyone in town was even now hunting for the "missing" Jughead.
She giggled. Everyone was looking for Jughead, who was right here, and no
one was looking for Veronica who was who-knows-where. This didn't seem to
bother her too much, either. Even though she knew that the real Veronica
was missing, she felt like SHE was the real Veronica. And she was right
here. So how could Veronica REALLY be missing?
But Jughead was. There was no way around that. What was she going
to do? She couldn't tell anyone what had really happened. They'd think
she was crazy. And if they BELIEVED her, they'd make her stop being
Veronica. They'd take her away to that dreary little shack of his and make
her be Jughead again. She started to cry.
"No!" she whispered sharply. "No! I'll be damned if I'll EVER be
Jughead again! I'm Veronica. V-E-R-O-N-I-C-A! Veronica-fuckin'-Lodge!
And Nobody's taking that away from me!" She smiled, then hugged herself,
enjoying the feel of the satin teddy she wore. Her fingers began to edge
towards her crotch.
"No." she said wistfully, "Not now. I've got things to do." She
sighed and turned her attention back to the possessions on the bed.
She picked up the hat, holding it like a dead mouse. She dropped
it into her wastecan. The nail clippers, comb, and pocketknife followed.
She barely felt a twinge as she tossed away the knife, which had been his
father's, grandfather's and great-grandfather's. She just thought it
looked really tacky now.
She swept the change into her hand and tossed it away. She hated
coins. Disgusting little things. Not like REAL money. If you actually
NEEDED coins, you were just poor. She opened the wallet. Fifteen dollars,
some I.O.U.'s, discount cards at various restaurants...God, she'd been a
pig! Library cards, school ID, pictures...She stopped. She lifted the
photos out and looked at them.
The first was with Archie. The two of them, arms around each other
at summer camp, holding up a snake they'd killed. "Ugh," she shivered,
"How'd I ever manage to get so close to a snake?"
There were several of Big Ethel. She was a tall, gangly girl with
an overbite. When she was Jughead, she'd always found Ethel cute. She
knew from experience Ethel was good in the sack. "No Betty Cooper," she
mused, "But then, who is?"
Suddenly, she lifted her chin defiantly and said, "I am, damn it!
I'M fuckin' better than Betty Cooper! Shit, I wish I was here to fuck!
I'd show him. I can out fuck Little Tits Cooper any fuckin' day of the
week ! I can..." she stopped, realizing she was, in fact, ranting about
showing herself how good a fuck she was. She shook her head. "Too fuckin'
crazy for me," she mumbled.
Returning to the photos, she tore the Ethels in half, then lifted
out one of Jellybean. Jughead's little sister. She was only two, but she
loved Jug so much. He was "big brudder", always able to fix things.
Ronnie smiled. Of course, Jellybean wasn't her real name. Her real name
was...was... Ronnie seemed confused. She thought hard, contorting her
face with effort. Her name was...was...
She didn't know.
She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember her own little
sister's name. She felt sick.
Then, she felt angry. "So what!" she thought. "So what if I can't
remember the little brat's birthday? It's not like I really care! She's
just some tacky little child in...in some...some tacky...little...house..."
She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. After a long
while, she stopped. Then, sniffling, she walked into the bathroom and
began to apply cold compresses to her eyes. She couldn't allow Riverdale's
number one heiress to have puffy eyes.
When she'd finished, she walked back into the bedroom, gathered all
of Jughead's belongings and plopped them into the wastecan. Dusting her
hands, she turned to select her wardrobe for the day.
She paused. Looking back, she quickly snatched the photograph of
Jellybean out of the trash and slipped it into the drawer of her
nightstand. She smiled.
Choosing her outfit for the day was both harder and easier than she
expected. Her Jughead personality had expected a quicker time of it, while
her Veronica side felt pleased that she selected her ensemble in only 45
minutes.
Wiggling into a pair of jeans so tight it was apparent that she was
wearing thong panties, she then slipped into a pair of 3 inch pumps and a
gorgeous cream-colored blouse. She was just applying the final touches to
her make-up when she heard a knock at the bedroom door. She turned, seeing
Archie and Betty looking at her curiously.
"Well," thought Ron, "He's got NERVE. Bringing that little tramp
here with him."
At the same time, she was horrified to be reacting to her best buddy that
way. "This is the guy I've hung out with all my life," she thought, "How
the hell can I be thinking of screwing him?"
Yet she did think of it. And seemed strangely unmoved by the prospect.
"Hmmm..." she mused, "Arch always told me he was quite the stud, but...I
just don't feel it. Maybe it's 'cause I'm not really Ronnie. Let's
see...Lemme think of Reggie. What does that...Oh boy! I'm getting wet
down there. Wow! Reg IS a stud. Wonder what he's doing? Mmmm..." She
closed her eyes.
"Uh, Ron?" Betty asked.
"Damn! That bottled-blonde bitch ALWAYS interrupts my fun!" she
thought. "Yes, Betty?" she said.
"Um...we were wondering...if you...that is, did you know...ah..."
"Oh, for..." Archie said, "What she's trying to say, Ronnie, is 'Do
you know anything about what's happened to Jug?'"
"Why, Archiekins," Ronnie purred, "Whatever do you mean?"
"Uh..." began Archie, looking flustered, "Well, Betty said you were
acting strange yesterday...kinda like Jughead, and I...well..."
"Really, Betty, "Ronnie said, pirouetting, "Do I look like Jughead
to you?"
"Look, Ron, you and I both know you were pretty fucked up yesterday."
"I know no such thing," Ronnie said, tossing her hair.
"You were eating like a FUCKIN' PIG!" Betty yelled, moving nose to
nose with Ronnie.
"Watch your language, SLUT." said Ronnie icily.
"Hoo boy," thought Archie, getting out of the way and sitting down
on the bed.
"Don't call me slut, you bitch!" roared Betty.
"I'll call you anything I want, you little tramp!"
Nervously, Archie glanced around. He reached for the gum on the
nightstand. Sticking one piece into his shirt pocket, he slid the other
stick into his mouth and tossed the wadded wrapper towards the wastecan.
It bounced off and he bent to retrieve it. As his eyes swept over the
contents of the can, they grew large in their sockets.
"Holy shit." he whispered.
Both girls stopped at the sound of his strangled whisper. They
turned and stared at his white face. Betty tilted her head in a
questioning manner. Silently, he reached into the wastecan and withdrew
Jughead's billfold and trademark hat.
Stunned, they both stared at Veronica.
-----
"I can explain," Veronica wailed.
Seated on her bed, tears flowing, she looked more miserable than it
seemed possible for a person to be.
Archie and Betty stood on either side of her, arms folded.
Ronnie looked from one to the other. "It's not what you think,"
she sobbed. "I didn't...I didn't..."
"Didn't what, Ronnie?" Betty asked accusingly, "Didn't do away with
Jughead?"
"Do away with...?" Ronnie seemed confused.
"It's no secret that you hated him, Ron. Everybody knew it."
"Betty! How could you think... I would never... Archiekins, say
something!"
"Ron, I... I don't know what to think."
"Think I didn't DO anything," Ron implored.
"I--I'd like to," he began, "But this..." he held up the wallet,
"here? I...I don't know what it means."
"I know what it means," snapped Betty.
The others turned to look at her.
"It means she killed him," she spat. "That's right. Sweet little
Veronica Lodge killed Jughead. And she probably thought she'd just buy her
way out of any trouble, just like she always does."
"So..." Archie said,chewing rapidly, "So you think when she was
acting so strange yesterday..."
"She'd probably just killed him. Looking back, I realize, she had
all the symptoms of being in shock. Hell, she probably had the body hidden
in some room in the house the whole time I was here. She...Oh my God."
"What?"
"It...it's probably still there now. Jughead's dead body is
probably in one of these rooms right now!"
"It's NOT!" screamed Ronnie. "He's not dead! I didn't kill him!"
"All right," said Betty, smugly, "Then what are these doing in your
garbage?" She held out the billfold and hat.
"Oh God!" thought Ronnie, "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God! I've gotta tell
this right! I've gotta make them believe me! Otherwise, I'll go to jail
for my own murder!"
"Well?" asked Betty. "We're waiting?"
Sniffling, Ronnie began, "It...it's like this...Jughead WAS here.
Yesterday. I...I lied to you, Archie, when I said he never came up to see
me."
"Why, Ronnie?" he asked, intently. "Why did you lie to me?"
"Because..." She took a deep breath, "Because I was fucking him."
"WHAT?" screamed Betty.
"I--I don't believe it," muttered Archie, "My girl...and my best
friend...."
"Hold on a minute, heartbreak boy," said Betty sarcastically. "I
find this a little hard to believe. Veronica? And Jughead? Am I the only
one thinking 'What's wrong with this picture?'?"
"It was...I didn't believe it at first, myself," continued Ronnie,
"But it started last summer. One night, at the beach. You two had snuck
off together and Reggie had passed out from the beer. It was just Juggie
and me. We talked. He was nice. And...I was really drunk. We did it
right there, on the beach. And I loved it!"
"Damn it, Ronnie, "Archie interjected, "Why can't I ever TRUST you?"
"Uh, Arch..." whispered Betty, "remember where WE were while this
was happening?"
"Oh." he said. Then, blushing, he absently blew a bubble.
This was easy. What she'd told so far was true. It had really
happened. She remembered it. At least her JUGHEAD side remembered it.
She now realized that Veronica had been so drunk, she had no memory of
what had happened. She felt a little better. "I always thought she was
too ashamed to ever mention it," she thought. "I guess it's better that
she just didn't remember it. I think."
Veronica continued, warming to her story, "Shortly after that, we
began seeing each other. We quickly found out that we still couldn't stand
each other. But the SEX! God, the sex was fantastic! Juggie was hung
like a horse and he really knew what I liked!"
"Okay," snapped Archie, "Now I KNOW you're making this up. Jug?
Well-hung? Man, what a load of shit, right Betty?"
"Shut up, Arch," Betty muttered.
"Bets?" he asked.
"Oh," said Ronnie, recovering some of her composure, "Hasn't she
ever told you? She's been banging Juggie since seventh grade."
"Eighth, and you know it!" shouted Betty defiantly. "And it's not
as if I've ever screwed REGGIE while Archie was downstairs waiting on me."
"Bitch! You said you'd never tell!"
"Ron? Is this true?" asked a crestfallen Archie.
Veronica blushed a bright crimson. While she wasn't the Veronica
who had done these things, she remembered them clearly. And knew they were
true. "Archiekins," she began, "It doesn't matter..."
"Shit!" he yelled, pulling away from her. "Shit, Ron! I can't
trust you at all, can I?"
"Archiekins," she said, "I'm still your girl. You know that."
"Well, damn it, Veronica, I wish you'd ACT like it!" He yelled.
And with that, Veronica's whole outlook changed. Suddenly, Reggie
didn't seem interesting at all. The thought of his 10 inch rod did nothing
for her. Neither did Moose, or Chuck, or Harvey. Nor did Bingo or
Smithers or Mr. Weatherbee. None of them did anything. But just to look
at Archiekins, she began to get weak in the knees. A smile from him and
she was wet in an instant. And the thought of his cute little cock--Oh!
She almost had an orgasm from the very thought!
God, how had she ever thought him uninteresting? He was wonderful!
Fascinating! And he was hers! She was his! She was Archie's girl! It
sounded so wonderful, she decided to get it tattooed on her.
She glared at Betty with hate. What was she doing with HER Archie?
The slut! Archie was her's. If Betty ever tried anything... well, then
she'd see if Ronnie really WAS capable of murder!
And strangely, none of this disturbed the Jughead side of her
personality. Arch had always been his best friend. Now, they're just
going to be closer.
"Archiekins?" she said in a trembling voice, "I--I love you."
Archie and Betty both stared at Ronnie in disbelief. Veronica had
never told any man she loved him.
"You--you mean it?" he asked.
"Yes," she smiled, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Oh God, YES!"
She flung her arms around him and kissed him hard on the lips.
Finally, he had to tear himself away, just so he could breathe.
"That's very touching, Ronnie," said Betty. "However, as I recall,
just before this profession of love, you were telling us about how you were
secretly fucking Jughead behind Archie's back?"
"Oh, Betty," stared Veronica in horror, "Don't say it that way!
It's disgusting! I--I can't even think about that anymore. Archie's the
man I love."
"Sure," said Betty, rolling her eyes. "So...what happened to Juggie?"
"Oh." Veronica seemed surprised, as if Juggie was the farthest
thing from her mind. Gazing lovingly at Archie, she continued, "We... we
kept seeing each other, strictly for the sex, right up through yesterday.
He--he 'dropped by' and we...well, you know..."
"Yes," smiled Betty, " I DO."
"Then," Ronnie resumed, "He left. And after he had gone, i found
that stuff on the floor, under the bed. I guess it fell out of his pants."
"So why was it in the garbage?" asked Betty.
"I--I knew everybody was looking for Jughead. I thought that if
anyone found that stuff here, they'd think--what YOU thought."
"And to prove your innocence, you'd have to tell them what you told
us," said Archie quietly.
"Yes," sniffed Ronnie. "Oh, Archiekins, please don't make me tell
everyone the whole sordid thing."
"Betty?" he asked, looking over at her.
"Ahh, what the hell," said Betty, "I never REALLY thought she
killed him." "Besides, I could never let it get out
that I'VE had sex with Jughead. I'm a GOOD girl," she thought with a smug
expression.
"Okay, now that that's settled," Archie said, "Let's all get out
there and try to find Jughead!"
"Okay!," said Betty.
"Whatever you say, Archiekins," Veronica purred, clinging to his arm.
And with that, Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews began an entirely
new phase of their life-long friendship.
Part 5: REGGIE
The three of them left the Lodge mansion and headed towards the
Chocklit Shop. Veronica walked in the middle, clinging to Archie fiercely,
while at the same time keeping Betty well away from her man. Ronnie knew
you couldn't trust the little blonde bitch. Betty would do anything to get
her hands on Archie. Poor, desperate little thing. She hugged her
Archiekins tighter.
As they neared the center of town, flyers began to catch their
eyes. From light poles, from shop windows, from phone booths, the smiling
face of Jughead Jones stared back at them, beneath the word "Missing".
Moose had been busy.
"That should help," Archie said.
"I hope so," said Betty.
"Don't worry, Archiekins," said Ronnie, looking slightly sad, "I'm
sure that, wherever Juggie is, he's still your friend, and always will be."
Archie stared at her curiously, but said nothing.
Betty rolled her eyes. Ron was acting more spacey than usual
today. They moved on the the Chocklit Shop and took a booth near the door.
Betty ordered three sodas and they sipped in silence, Archie too worried
about his friend to talk, Ronnie too much in love to speak, and Betty,
disgusted with the whole thing.
Just as Betty was draining the last of her strawberry float, Reggie
Mantle entered, acting, as usual, as if this were his fan club
headquarters.
"Hiya, carrot top," he grinned, plopping down beside Betty.
"Lookin' good, Bets," he said, squeezing her thigh. She blushed, then
looked away.
"Ron," he said, giving her his brightest smile, "What are you doing
with these losers? Why don't you join me at the country club? We could
take my new BMW?"
Ron looked at him, no interest showing on her face. Even the
mention of the BMW had done nothing for her. Nothing could compete with
her Archiekins. "No, thanks, Reggie," she said. "I'd rather stay right
here." She cuddled closer to Archie, her hand slipping between his legs,
finding the erect rod she expected.
Reggie looked slightly confused, but immediately recovered.
"Okay," he continued, "How about these?" He whipped out a pair of tickets
from his back pocket. "Smashing Pumpkin tickets! 3rd row, center!"
Betty's eyes bulged. Even Archie raised his eyebrows. These were
impossible to get. And Veronica Lodge LOVED Smashing Pumpkins. They all
turned to look at her.
She thought for a moment. She knew she loved Smashing Pumpkins.
She had all their discs, went to all their concerts. She was wild about
them. The very mention of their name was equal to a two-cup caffeine buzz
to her. Yet, when she thought about going without Archiekins... She just
didn't WANT to. Not without her Archie.
"Thanks," she smiled, "But I think I'll just stay home with my
Archiekins." She grinned wickedly at Archie and ran her hand quickly up
and down his shaft.
Reggie looked stunned. The tickets dropped from his limp hand onto
the table. Betty swooped them up, then ground her hip against Reggie's
thigh. "How 'bout me?" she said, blue eyes dancing.
"Uh... yeah, okay," Reggie muttered.
Irked at all this disinterest, Betty reached down and began
stroking Reggie's crotch. His eyes turned from Ron and began to show
definite interest in the little blonde before him. "Actually," he
continued, "that sounds like a GREAT idea. I think we'll have a great
time."
"I like having a great time," Betty whispered huskily. "I really
like having a great BIG time. How 'bout it. Reg? Can you show me a great
BIG ol' time? Hmmm?"
"Oh, yeah," he gasped, breathing hard. "Big, BIG time. Really big."
Ronnie giggled and Reggie flushed despite himself. Betty removed
her hand and his concentration seemed to improve. He turned his attention
to Archie in an attempt to reduce the swelling in his pants.
"So, Arch," he began, gesturing at the flyers outside the window,
"what's happening with the 'Great Garbage Disposal Hunt'?"
"No luck so far," Archie said. "It's like he just vanished between
one step and the next."
"Too bad," shrugged Reg, reaching over and swiping the last stick
of gum from Archie's pocket.
"Hey," said Arch, "Ever heard of asking?"
"Sure," smirked Reggie, chewing loudly.
"You shithead," said Archie, though without much enthusiasm. With
his pal missing, even an argument with Reggie seemed to lose its luster.
Reggie sensed this and, in what for him passed for friendship,
tried to rile Arch up, hoping that a good fight might pick up his spirits.
"Oh, well," he said, "it's not like it's anybody IMPORTANT. Unless you
own a restaurant."
"What?" said Archie, turning red.
"The person I feel sorry for is poor ol' Pop Tate," Reggie
continued, "He's gonna lose a lot of business with Needlenose gone. Poor
guy."
"Reggie Mantle, you are an absolute ASSHOLE," Archie said, rising
to his feet. "My pal, the best friend anybody ever had, is missing and you
don't even CARE! Well, I'll MAKE you care." He reached across the table
and grabbed Reggie by the shirt.
Reggie Mantle was an interesting individual. He seemed blessed, or
perhaps cursed, with the inability to know when to quit. In athletics,
this ability had enabled him to lead the Riverdale Panthers to bowl games
three years straight. In dating, this had resulted in a black book that
was the envy of the entire Senior class and a thing of legend to the
underclassmen. In his part time job, this had meant quick promotion.
But here... Here, it just meant a black eye. Yet, he said it
anyway. He had to. It was all part of being Reggie. He grinned and said
in a mocking, singsong voice, "Jughead, Jughead, Jughead... I wish nobody'd
ever even HEARD of Jughead!"
And with than, all the flyers vanished.
All the volunteers disappeared.
Veronica's wastecan emptied.
Dilton Doily found himself trying to remember what he had started
to enter into his computer.
At the Jones' home, Jughead's room transformed into a sewing room,
where Mrs. Jones sat, making a new blanket for her only child, two year-old
Jellybean.
Everyone's mind emptied of the slightest memory of Jughead Jones.
Reggie forgot him.
Betty forgot him.
His parents forgot him.
Jellybean forgot him.
Pop Tate forgot him.
Archie Andrews forgot him.
And Veronica Lodge?
She forgot him most of all.
Then Archie Andrews punched Reggie Mantle in the jaw.
"Ow!" Reggie yelped.
"That'll teach you to try and make fun of my girl," Archie said angrily.
"It's okay," cooed Ronnie, rubbing against him. "I'm sure Reggie
didn't mean it. DID you, Reginald?"
"No," replied Reggie holding his jaw.
"So take it back," demanded Archie.
"All right, all right," he said, "I take it back. I don't wish
we'd never heard of Veronica Lodge."
"All right," Archie said, sitting down.
"Now," put in Betty, "if you two can keep your testosterone under
control, Ron and I want to do some shopping. You wanna come?"
"Sure," said Archie.
"I guess," said Reggie, still holding his jaw.
With that, they all piled into Archie's jalopy and headed off
towards the Riverdale Mall.
EPILOGUE:
The four friends wandered through the mall, stopping here and
there. Reggie, as always, insisted in checking out Mirror World, and
Archie picked up some comics at Cosmic Comix. Betty insisted on looking at
a cute sunsuit she'd seen last Saturday and, to Veronica's annoyment, led
them towards the tacky section. As they waited for her to try on the
outfit, something caught Veronica's eye. She walked across the mall
towards the dirty little shop where she'd sworn she'd seen the Chippendale
on Saturday.
She stood,head turned to the side, looking in the window. The
others joined her, Betty laden with a small sack holding the pink and green
sunsuit. "What's up, Ron?" she asked, "See some more gum?"
Ignoring her friend's jibe, Ronnie merely continued staring at the
strange object in the window. It was a grey felt hat, shaped like a crown.
"Man," said Reggie, " is that ever ugly!"
"Yeah," agree Archie, " like something out of the depression."
"Tacky with a capital Tack!" agreed Betty. She turned to look at
her friend. "Ron?" she asked.
Veronica was quiet a long time, then said, "I like it."
As her friends watched in amazement, Veronica slipped inside the
little shop and handed the old man inside a twenty. He reached into the
display and handed it to her with a smile. She tried it on and beamed.
"It was made for you, my dear," smiled the old man.
She smiled back, then left the shop. Then, wearing the hat, with
which she was soon to become inseperatable, she linked arms with her
friends and headed towards the doors, grinning broadly .
The old man watched them go, chuckling to himself.
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