To the strip club, of course

Waverly walked on autopilot, trusting her feet to get her where she wanted to go. Back to the Homestead, drop off the drinks…

Was it just her imagination, or did the street look different? She shook it off, after all it wasn’t as though that could mean anything.

“Hey sugartits!” came a yell from a passing car.

“Hey!” Waverly found herself yelling back, lifting her top again. She heard a woop in the brief seconds before the car zoomed out of sight, before she quickly pulled her top down again, blushing furiously.

Where the hell was that coming from? She wasn’t the kind of person who…

She was just grateful she was wearing a bra. Whatever was going on was bad enough; maybe she’d check in about it.

Or not. She flushed deeper at the thought of explaining her sudden compulsion to flash strangers to her sister.

Maybe it’d go away. It had started suddenly after all, it might dissipate the same way. Just go home to wear she couldn’t do anything else embarrassing, wait it out, have a good sleep…

Huh. The road to the homestead smelt a lot more of cheap booze than she expected. Wynonna wasn’t that bad-

Waverly’s eyes drifted up to behold a sign proudly labelling the nearby establishment ‘Pussy Willows,’ an illustration of a woman looking coyly over the text, her only clothing apparently being those words, left no illusions as to what kind of place this was.

Ok. Not the homestead. Had she taken a wrong turning? She was pretty sure this place and her home were nowhere near each other, she’d have had to really…

Waverly’s eyes went wide as she felt her feet continue to carry her inside. Wait, what?

No, she didn’t want to go to a strip club. She might be gay, but that didn’t mean she wanted to watch random girls dance around, she was perfectly happy with-

With walking into the establishment apparently, body swaying along to the music. If anyone looked at her in the moment she crossed the threshold, they might have seen her eyes flash black.

A dancer was gyrating at the pole, almost humping the thing. Waverly blushed scarlet just looking at the lewd display.

Unconsciously moving to the music, Waverly found herself wandering over to the bar. Ok, good move, she could probably do with a drink after everything.

And then, to her horror, she found herself saying:

“Hey! Do you let amateurs take a turn?” she waved towards the stage, where a woman was finishing off her set.

“Not usually,” the bartender said. He looked her up and down, then grinned. “Waverly, right? I remember your sister, boss might make an exception. You serious?”

Wynonna? Ok, that raised questions in need of answers. Ideally when she was back home and not taking her clothes off in front of strangers.

“Of course,” the words fell from Waverly’s mouth, adorned by a sunny grin, despite the mounting dread in her mind.

When had she become a passenger in her own body, an ineffectual audience member rather than the owner? There was no way she was going to do this. She wouldn’t, she wasn’t a stripper, she wasn’t interested in-

A minute later and she’d gotten the OK, been branded ‘Venus’ and had been taken backstage to pick an outfit from the costumes the club had on hand.

“You’re on in five,” the manager said. “Don’t disappoint. Sure you’ll do great! It’s in your genes.”

She found herself tugging down her jeans and pulling off her shirt before he even left the room. She was sure he slowed to take her in, but she couldn’t even turn back to face him.

This couldn’t be happening.