The shock

It was two days until the girls set off for the mission and Hardy was sprawled on a large foot stool, lost in his imagination, avoiding his memories and pretty bored. It was still one or two hours until dinner and Cocoa, Blur, Pages and the disguising section of the Hideout were hard at work coming up with ways to hide the girls in plain sight. Of course, Blur had this down to an art, but Pages and Cocoa didn’t have the talent, so they had to rely on the talents of others and Blur was leading the battle to make them look inconspicuous. However, that left him without his usual ‘possey’ and for him, latching on to any other groups wasn’t as much fun, as Hardy had grown up with three sisters and their girlfriends and the only other people he knew well enough to hang out with were boys; it was a bit of an insult to his gender, but that’s how he was, he didn’t know how to talk to other men.

 

“To all the men in this room,” Chief called out as he paced into the room, Hardy lifted his head (regardless of what Pages said; he was a man), “I’m going to need an honest opinion from you all in a second.” Hmm... wonder what this could be about.

 

Then out she stepped and Hardy, like every other male in the room, gawked. There was no way this was Pages. Her feet had been squished into simple black heels increasing her height so that she now towered above pretty much everyone in the room, her muscular legs were adorned in fishnet tights and a gold dress shimmered over her natural curves, softening her rough edges and it looked so fulfilling to caress the smooth, silky satin. Every movement she made rippled around her, encouraging you to look everywhere, to gaze upon the beauties of a woman’s body and good Lord was it short! The dress would have had less of an impact if it wasn’t for Pages’ huge bust; the impressive things seem to have been pushed up, up and away... Her faces’ angles had been softened with the makeup, contacts or a charm had turned her eyes pink and her hair was a straight bluish-black, framing her face perfectly.

 

All this would have been very pleasing to the eye, if it wasn’t... if the shape... if...

 

Well, if it hadn’t been Pages.

 

As a general rule Pages was intimidating; smart, tough and fierce, she was a pretty butch lady and it was guaranteed that she could beat the holy crap out of any man who tried to touch her. The only problem now was that it was a big temptation. However, the muscles in her bare arms rippled menacingly and her eyes, black fire blazing in their centre, the whole picture was so...

 

“So what do you think, Gentlemen?” Chief asked, “Honest answers, please.”

 

Several voices shot from different corners of the room.

 

“Scary.”

 

“Terrifying!”

 

“I think I just shat my pants,” called a partially panicked voice, which received a few chuckles from the females, but even they were finding this hard to process.

 

That’s exactly what it was; scary and terrifying. Her lips were coloured red and might as well have been blood by the way she was looking at everyone; like she was about to devour them as well as the poor soul whose lifeblood had previously painted her lips.

 

“Yes,” their leader nodded, “Pages, my dear, try a more subdued and less underwear soiling expression, if you don’t mind.”

 

“You mean act like a s**t,” Pages growled, clearly more uncomfortable with this than the confused men trying to work it into their heads that Pages was a woman. Not just a woman; an attractive woman.

 

“Yes.”

 

She sighed and loosened up; her hip popping to one side, her hand resting on her accentuated waist and her arms relaxed so they looked gentler and not so much you-touch-me-and-I-will-rip-your-arm-off-and-stuff-it-down-your-throat. Without its usual frown, her face looked younger, her eyes appeared larger and her lips pouting, the colour looking more like gentle roses than leftovers.

 

Holy rat balls marinated in turnip soup, philosopher’s n*****s and eggs. Look away, look away, look away.

 

Hardy could feel his and the surrounding males’ heads stretched to breaking point. “DOES NOT COMPUTE” was flashing loud and clear throughout the cave.

 

Then some idiot wolf whistled.

 

Hardy’s throat constricted in fear, positive he was about to witness a brutal murder, the brainless whistler was going to start shrieking in a minute while being stabbed repeatedly with a stiletto.

 

But he soon realised he could breathe easy; the whistler had been Sir Palaver.

“Pervert,” she shot at the bird, resuming a more Pages-like demeanour.

 

He responded with another wolf whistle and a, “Here pretty lady, here girl.”

 

“Humf,” and with that Pages left.

 

Chief surveyed the population of the area with a raised eyebrow, “I’m supposing by the state of shock you’re all in that we’ve succeeded in making her sexy?”

 

“I think the only reason tongues aren’t hanging out,” said Hardy, trying to keep his cool, “Is because we know she’d probably rip them out of our mouths. I’m surprised she didn’t gouge out our eyes just for looking too long.”

 

Chief smiled slightly as he heard the murmurs of agreement, knowing the entire time that Hardy spoke the truth.