A sign points the way.

The bike comes to life under you as you push the little button and twist the throttle. As if you had ridden the bike a million times before you kick up the stand and kick it into first. The bike rolls forward and you hook your feet on the little pegs. A couple of shifts later and you are out of the parking lot and ripping down the road. You really have no idea where you should go, but home seems to be the best option. However, a block or so down the road, not very long really, you notice the impossible, the surroundings are just wrong. Somehow you aren't in your home town any longer, and wherever you are it is a lot colder and the city seems to be large and sprawling. In a state of confusion and amazement you just drive, down many unknown streets, past many buildings that don't make any sense, you finally spot something that catches you by total surprise. A billboard high in the air advertising the very concert you wanted to go to tomorrow night, but this one is for tonight, at an arena in Toronto Canada, and judging by the sign that is where you are now. “No fucking way. So I put on the costume early and it sent me to where the concert was. That is so crazy.” But as you think about it, it does at least make a little sense as to why this is happening, as long as you simply toss reality out the window and accept the magic that is going on around you. “Well if I am supposed to go to the concert I should have tickets right?” Sitting there at the red light you pull open the saddle bag and open your little purse. Inside along with all of the makeup you took you find a ticket, just as you figured.

The address is on the ticket, but you don't really know the area. That said it is an arena and you aren't stupid, so you simply kick the bike in gear, watch a few street numbers to get the right direction down and start heading across town till you spot the huge arena on the skyline. It all takes long enough that for a second you are sure the concert is over, but as you pull into the parking garage you can tell that it has already started, but the song you hear isn't Gwen. The people at the gates are dressed up like girls, and you can't help but smile when you think at how sexy you are compared to the two obviously male girls that are taking tickets. They look you over with that look that assures you just how hot you are and you walk into the show with a nice sexy wiggle. Before you go to your seat you make a bee line to the concession stand, pound down the biggest beer available, then buy two more to take with you to your seat. On the way there you finish the second, so you only have the one left to attend to once you get to your seat.

By the time you get to your seat in the middle of the arena about 7 rows back from the stage Gwen is on stage belting out one of her hit songs. The crowd is a sea of sexy girls, some actually girls, some not. Hell for all you know some of the ones that look female are the result of some kind of magic like what happened to you. You push your way to your seat and plop down on your sexy bottom for a few moments, downing half your remaining beer, before you give in and stand up like everyone else and begin screaming and dancing in the row, the chairs making this a little tricky, but it seems everyone is making due. As you dance and smile, and yell your tiny lungs out, you start to feel the **** hit, hard. It seems three beers in rapid succession isn't all that good of an idea when you are under a hundred pounds. But as is often the case, you don't seem to care that you are drunk either. “Wooo.” You hear yourself yell out once more and start giggling about pretty hard.

Just then a hand is on your ass, cupping it. A second hand grabs your tit from around your back behind you and pulls you back till your legs bump your chair and you almost fall down. Spinning on your attacker, your knee on the chair, you see a man dressed like a witch complete with the big hat long flowing black gown that is slit up the front and back high enough to show off his/her black and purple striped stockings and 4” platform heel black shoes. “Hey slut, nice costume, wanna fuck?” He asks, apparently expecting such a simple line to work with how obviously drunk you apparently are.