Becoming Bella

"So, we playing at the Stardust Friday?" Keith asked as he slid behind the drum set. At five-six, he got lost in there, but he was a great drummer.

"Well, about that," Stuart temporized. Hair down to his shoulders, with a little wisp of a beard, he looked like a metalhead. I suspected his real dream was a job as a classical musician. He was good enough to play piano for a big orchestra, but he didn't have degrees from the right places, and he wasn't such a prodigy that he could break through.

"Uh-oh," Greg and I said at the same time. Greg's the bassist. Big guy, built like a football player. He had a temper, too, but he kept it in check. It came out in flashes where you thought he was going to punch something or someone and then a mask came over him and he was eerily calm. He never had punched anyone, as far as I knew, but you couldn't help be a little afraid of Greg.

"They booked a blues band," Stuart said.

"Blues over metal?" Keith asked. "What the fuck, man? They do realize it's the twenty-first century, don't they?"

"Metal wouldn't be here if it weren't for the blues," Stuart said. "Zeppelin covered Willie Dixon, and Cream, Robert Johnson, and then Metal took it all a step further. But this isn't about musical styles. The group that came in, Deep Indigo, they've got the other kind of style. Pizzazz. Their singer has a low, sexy voice, tells a few jokes, and then sings the saddest songs. Their guitarist struts around the stage like he owns it. They bring in the crowds. Or so Jack, who runs the Stardust, says. 'You guys just play,' he told me. 'they put on a show.'"

I'd seen Deep Indigo play. What Stuart had left out was that their singer didn't just put on a show, she was a show. Guys who barely cared about music came to watch her. She was hot.

"Well," said Greg. "We are what we are. King of Swords, man, we rock. People will like us or not. Not much we can do about it."

"How do we put on more of a show?" Keith asked.

Everyone looked at me. I was the lead singer, and it was, apparently, my fault that we didn't 'put on a show.' That was probably fair, although I couldn't help but feel that they didn't appreciate my singing, either. Yeah, they knew I sounded good. I could get the metal growl down and then sing a sweet tenor, all in one song, and nail it. But somehow the notion that anyone could sing hung in the air, even if no one said it.

I shrugged my shoulders. "What do you guys want me to do? Wear a wig and throw my fake hair around? Strut like Freddie Mercury?"

"Freddie had muscles," Greg said.

Freddie could sing better, too. I'm good, but I'm notthatgood.

"Maybe it's time for us to hang it up," Stuart said.

"You don't quit on metal," Keith insisted. Of all of us, he was the most passionate about what we played. He didn't just want to play at the Stardust, he wanted to cut a record, tour the country, play at big venues. I suppose we all did, but we had backup plans. I had a job as a computer programmer to fall back on, for instance.

"I can make faces when I growl," I said. I sang a few measures of metal scream, which never sounds great a cappella, and demonstrated a fierce face.

"Very scary," Greg said, his voice completely flat.

I sighed. "Guys, maybe I'm standing in your way. I should quit and let you find someone else."

"We'll talk about it after practice," Stuart said. Not exactly a ringing endorsement. Stuart was my friend, and of all of them, I think he appreciated good singing. We all wanted the band to succeed, but right now, it didn't look so good.

That was when Jeremy walked in, lugging his guitar in one hand and amp in the other. He looked around, surveying our faces. "Hey, why's everyone got the blues?"

"Bad choice of words, Jerry," Greg said. "Let's play. Let's make some magic, as we do."

"The Stardust didn't book us," Keith told him. "They booked a crappy blues band over our primo dark metal, because the blues band has a better front man."

Ouch.

"Sorry, man," Keith said. "I didn't mean it that way."

"Front woman," corrected Stuart. "They are actually a decent blues band. Not great, not as good as us, but not horrible."

Keith and Greg glared at him. They wanted solidarity over nuance.

"Why's that?" Jeremy asked, so we went over it all over again. Jeremy was perennially late, and he always wanted to be filled in. We'd learned to do it, or Jeremy would be distracted.

Jeremy eyed me with an odd look on his face. "Well, I have an idea. I don't know if Benny will go for it, but it's at least an idea."

"Whatis an idea?" Keith said.

"An idea," Jeremy said, "Is a thought about a possible course of action." He had his guitar out and plugged in by then. "Give me an A, Stuart."

Stuart dutifully pounded a few A's on the keyboard, and Greg and Jeremy started tuning.

"I meant, what'syouridea, smartass?" Keith said.

"I'll talk to Benny about it, one on one," Jeremy said. "After we practice." He looked at Greg. "We good?"

"We're good," Greg said.

Obviously, I was pretty curious as to what Jeremy had to talk to me about. But we went through our set, and music focused us. We sounded great, as usual.

"We've got a great sound," Keith said. "It'll be a shame to change it."

The guys nodded. We were a team again, even if our team wasn't playing at the Stardust.

"Come home with me," Jeremy said to me. "I've got something to show you."

I shrugged. "Alright." I wasn't enthused, but I wondered what his idea was.

I followed him home. He drove a Mercedes his dad had bought him, a reminder that he didn't need the band or even a job to have a living. I followed in my Prius, conscious that the day job and not the band had paid for my wheels. Maybe I should just quit. The problem was that the gigs were the highlight of my life, and coding was not. I loved performing in front of an audience, and having a crowd watch me. Hitting the notes perfectly in front of everyone was a high better than any drug. But being a showman? Well, I was a lanky guy, plain in virtually every way, and the last thing I wanted to do was make an ass of myself in front of an audience. So I stuck with singing, which I was damn good at. But maybe the band needed something else - a better front man, or woman. I could cheer my old friends on while they made it to stardom - with someone else. And I'd find a gig singing somewhere. I didn't think I'd have to fall back on joining a church choir.

I walked into Jeremy's apartment and looked around. It was a strange mix. Beautiful furniture, everything in just the right places, new looking and color coordinated. Imagine a designer's dream suite, and then toss a layer of guitar magazines over the furniture, and posters of pin-up girls puttied crookedly onto the walls.

"It's in my bedroom, somewhere," Jeremy said, headed that way.

"What is?" I wasn't going to follow.

"You'll see," Jeremy said, over his shoulder. "Some things need to be seen to be believed."

I cleared space on the couch, intending to sit, but once I started tidying I decided to keep at it. I didn't want a living room like Jeremy's, because it felt like it demanded to be kept immaculate.

He came back a few minutes later, when I had the magazines in a neat pile on the coffee table and had settled into a gray leather recliner.

"So," he said, "here it is." He held out his hand, and opened it. In his palm sat a ring of polished twisted gold, with a large dark green stone in it.

I took the ring from his palm, since he seemed to intend for me to take it, and looked at it more closely without much hope that would make things clear. The stone didn't shine with any particular luster, so it seemed unlikely it was particularly valuable. The gold was worth something, and it was probably pretty old. It wasn't particularly flashy, so if he thought that wearing the ring would make the audience ooh and ah, he was mistaken. He couldn't think that. "So, what about the ring?"

"I could tell you, but you wouldn't believe me," he said. "Or you could just put it on and be pissed that I hadn't told you."

"If you all want me to leave the band, you know, you don't have to poison me." I looked the ring over again, this time looking for any clever springs or catches. I did see some writing on the inside.The Transformation Club, it said. The f was one of those fancy, below the line affairs that look like s's. "You can vote me out."

"If I was going to poison you, I'd arrange for an alibi first," Jeremy said reasonably. "We're friends. Sink or swim together. No one is voting you out, even if the guys let off a little steam sometimes. The ring was a gift from Aunt Gloria. You know, the one that disappeared, leaving me a bunch of money? Well, she left me the ring, too. Said it was the secret of her success."

"Why don'tyouput the ring on?" I held it out to him, just as he had to me.

He backed up. "Um, no. Tried that once, didn't like it. I don't want Aunt Gloria's kind of success, and I'm not, well, maybe I'm just not secure enough in my masculinity."

"Because it's a woman's ring? I mean, it doesn't even look like a woman's ring, particularly. Too wide."

He shrugged. "Try it, or not. If you take it off again, no harm will have been done. But it has to be felt to be believed."

"Will I be able to take it off again?"

"I don't see why not. I could. Thank God."

"You fill me with confidence. And why are we doing this?"

"Because the ring can make you a more popular front person," he said. He chuckled. "Might make your back person more attractive too."

An inside joke where only Jeremy was on the inside. "Right," I said, and took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll try it." It was just an ordinary ring, and I didn't know why he was making such a fuss about it. I put it on my right ring finger, because it looked just a bit too big for that finger, and I wanted to be able to take it off easily.

The strangest feeling came over me. It started with a wrenching feeling in my stomach, and then rippled all over my body. It was all over in a moment. I looked at my hand. The ring, it seemed, fit perfectly.

Which was strange, because my hand was decidedly smaller. I grabbed for the ring, and Jeremy grabbed my wrist. "Wait," he said. "Go look at yourself in the mirror, first. Then, do what you want, and we'll talk."

I got up. My clothes felt loose, like they didn't fit. My jeans were too long, and my feet felt like they were swimming in my shoes. My T-shirt just felt funny. But I made it to the bathroom to look in the mirror.

I was a woman. I had a soft, pixie shaped face, surrounded by luxurious brown hair. My shirt felt funny because my shoulders were less square, and the only place the shirt was snug was my chest. I grabbed my chest to be sure my eyes weren't deceiving me, and quickly pulled my hands away. I didn't grope women, at least not without asking first. But this woman was me, and I had smallish, perky breasts. Not too small, and they were certainly enough to pull the shirt away from my slender stomach. My waist was too narrow for my jeans, but my hips held them up, sort of. And I was three inches shorter.

I slipped my hand into my pants, which were plenty loose enough. I felt like there had been some changes down there, and needed to check. I was horrified but not surprised to find a soft, wet pussy instead of a dick. If I'd had a cock, it would have sprung to attention when I'd groped my tits.

Greetings.

The voice reverberating in my brain had an English accent. I'd have thought I was imagining it but for it was easier to doubt the transformation than the voice, and the transformation had a fleshy solidity to it.

"Uh, hi," I said, taking my hands out of my pants.

Are you Miss Gloria's heir?

"Um, no, he, um, gave this to me."

Freely?

"Yeah, he, um, I guess he didn't like this, er, effect?"

A pity. Very well, then. What can I call you?

"I'm Benny."

Very well, Miss Benny. Know that the ring can grant you great power, if you satisfy the purposes of its creators. I will be happy to guide you, if you would like my assistance.

"Um, sure, that would be great, I think."

I would begin by removing your pants, so you don't stumble.

That made sense. I kicked off my socks and shoes, and slid my pants over my hips. The mirror was the over-the sink variety, so it only showed my torso, but looking down I thought I had pretty nice legs, and my hips had a dramatic curve. My tighty-whities bunched up around my hips and looked ridiculous on me.

I pushed them down. A mound of untidy brown hair greeted me, and below that, pouting lips. I resisted the urge to touch myself, and instead got on with the stripping, taking my shirt off hastily.

My nipples jutted out proudly straight at the mirror from firm, round breasts. Everything about me was softer, more feminine. I noted my collar bone, my cute little belly button, the slight curve of a mostly flat stomach, my slender arms.

I was sexy, and cute. Not, I thought, gorgeous. But very nice. I'd date me. Or as Jeremy would probably say, "I'd hit that."

Do you like, Miss Benny?

"Um, sure, what's not to like, but, um, if I take my ring off I'll turn back?"

Yes. But be aware that only with the ring on can you earn mana, and you will need mana to unlock the ring's full power.

"Full power? Mana? Like what?"

You can improve physical or mental or psychological attributes.

"Like become an even better singer? Or a better showman?"

Or show-woman, Miss Benny.

In the shock of it all, I'd forgotten that part of the discussion. But that, no doubt, had been Jeremy's idea. As a sexy girl, I'd be more attractive to audiences than as a geeky guy. But that didn't mean a thing if I couldn't sing.

So I sang, choosingAve Mariamore or less at random. My range wasn't the same as I was used to, and it was a challenge to stay on pitch, but I thought I could do it. I reached for some high notes and nailed them. They say everyone sounds better in the bathroom, and I'm sure I'm no exception, but even discounting that, I sounded good. The more I sang, the better I got. Not, technically, as good as I was as a guy, but I had the raw ability to be even better.

I broke off, suddenly conscious of Jeremy standing there. I hadn't closed the bathroom door, because I'd just been planning to look in the mirror. He was staring at my body, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe and then back up again.

Miss Benny, you have received three mana for having a man look at you with lust.

"My god, Benny, you sound amazing," Jeremy said, stopping me from trying to figure out what three mana would do for me.

As if it were a reflex I put my hand over my pussy and crossed the other over my breasts. "You were looking at how I sounded, then?" I said sarcastically.

"Okay, you're hot, and I looked. Why'd you take your clothes off, anyway?"

"Because I'm hot and I wanted to look," I said. "And also, they didn't fit." I reached for the door and closed it between us.

"You can't blame me for looking," he yelled through the door.

"Maybe," I yelled back.

Is there anything you would like to change, Miss Benny? You can use the mana to alter your physical appearance.

I looked at myself. I was lovely, but not perfect. However the ring worked, it didn't turn me into my dream woman or anything like that. The breasts were, well, on the small side I thought. "Can you give me bigger breasts? I mean, not too big, but, bigger?"

With three mana, I can give you somewhat bigger breasts. Is that what you want, Miss Benny?

"Um, will I be able to get more?"

Certainly. I'll guide you.

"Well, then, sure. Do it." I wanted to see what mana could do for me, and this seemed like a good test case.

"Are you talking to me?" Jeremy shouted through the door.

My breasts grew before my eyes. If I was a B cup before, I was probably a C cup after. I didn't think they were too big; in fact, I thought they might look even better if they were a little bigger. "No, I'm not!" I yelled to Jeremy, and then I asked the ring, "Do I have any mana left after that?"

No Miss Benny. To get more, the next step is to make a man attain a priapic state.

"A what?" I asked, although I thought I knew what the ring meant.

An erection, Miss Benny. Walking out of the bathroom might just do it, since your friend is right out there. He's young, he shouldn't need too much encouragement.

I did not want to walk out to be ogled by Jeremy. I didn't object to being ogled, I realized. In fact, the thought of being on stage in front of a crowd as a woman, which was no doubt Jeremy's intention, appealed to me a lot. Especially while hitting those high notes. But Jeremy was a friend. And importantly, he knew that I was a guy.

Looking in the mirror, it was hard to convince myself Iwasa guy. I understood what Jeremy meant about not being secure enough in his masculinity for the ring. Was I? But I wasn't sure I cared, after hitting two octaves above middle C. I wanted to do that in front of a crowd.

I opened the door, hands at my sides, and there was Jeremy. "Go ahead," I said. "Take a good, long look."

"This is weird," Jeremy said.

"Well, you knew what the ring would do," I told him. "And now it's done it." I brushed past him, letting my breasts rub against his chest as I did, and then I walked to the living room, putting one foot exactly in front of the other as I walked in order to make my hips sway the way I'd seen some women do.

Miss Benny, you've received five more points of mana for making your friend hard.

Mission accomplished, then. I looked over my shoulder at Jeremy and caught the look in his eyes and saw the bulge in his tight pants. I wasn't sure I should tease him anymore. He might not want to fuck his friend, but his cock definitely had other ideas. "So," I said. "Your idea was that as, um, Benjamina here, I could replace Benny in the band, and people would come to see us?"

"Sure. Yeah, that was my idea," Jeremy agreed. "Pretty sure it'll work, too. Although Benjamina is an awful name."

"Yeah, it'll work, and yeah, about the name," I agreed. "And I can sing, obviously. You might have to do the growls, if we still want those, but maybe I can teach you that."

"You could still do it," Jeremy said, "like the girl from Jinjer."

"In a word, no. I'm not risking this beautiful voice, and besides, I simply don't want to. Jeremy, I need you to do something for me."

"What's that?"

"Buy me some clothes. I can't go home naked."

"You could, you know, just take the ring off and put on your regular clothes. I mean, in the bathroom, not here. I don't want to see you naked."

"I got the feeling you enjoyed seeing me naked," I teased him. "You certainly got hard."

He actually blushed at that. "That's as, that is, that -"

"Is that because my tits are bigger, Jeremy?" I was uncomfortable, but he was obviously having more trouble than I was, which gave me confidence.

"Yeah, how did that happen?"

I smiled. "The ring and I had a little talk. I need clothes, though. I can't be naked on stage. Not in the places we try to book, anyway."

You might want to finish making any adjustments to your figure, Miss Benny, before buying a wardrobe.

I had the notion that perhaps some boost to my lung power would be the best use of mana, assuming that was possible, but the ring was right. If I wanted to have bigger breasts, now was the time. And really, size D's didn't seem too disproportionate. Surely I'd find some way to get mana for the other. "What do you think, should I make them bigger?"

Certainly, if you wish, Miss Benny.