Gaz lay in bed, tossing and turning as Morpheus' mist settled onto her. She was normally a peaceful sleeper, dreaming happily of endless pizza and video games, of not having to deal with Dib annoying her on a daily basis, of getting everything she wanted out of life. Now, however, those dreams were being torn away from her by the god's magic, her feelings of contentment being turned to dread and fear as he subconscious was drawn down into a darkness, from which a nightmare started to take shape...
...
...
...
Gaz blinked as she came to awareness, and realized she was sitting in a chair. She looked around in confusion, seeing that she was in what looked like a dressing room of some kind, a row of chairs set up in front of a room-length desk with large mirrors running the same length, and racks of different kinds of clothes and costumes taking up the other side of the room.
"What the...? Where am I?" Gaz muttered, as the last thing she remembered was getting into bed. Deciding to take a look around for answers, she started to stand up, only to freeze as she finally managed to get a look at her reflection.
"What am I wearing?!" she shrieked. For instead of the darker Goth or gamer style clothes she normally wore, Gaz saw that she was dressed in a bright pink tutu, with white tights and pink ballet slippers underneath. Meanwhile, her purple hair was no longer in her typical monster jaw style, instead being pulled back into a ponytail with a matching pink bow, while quite a bit of bright makeup had been applied to her face. It was the girliest, most unlike herself look that Gaz could imagine, but it was undeniably her wearing it.
Gaz stared at her horrible reflection for what felt like forever, before giving an almost animalistic screech and trying to take the outfit off. To her mounting terror, however, it refused to move, to so much as even slightly tear from her efforts. It seemed as though she was stuck with it no matter what she did.
"What the hell is going on?!" she yelled. As if in response, a previously unnoticed door opened, and a middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair and an eye-searingly yellow dress entered the room.
"Okay dearie, it's showtime!" the woman announced cheerfully.
"Showtime?" Gaz echoed in confusion, momentarily distracted from her desperate attempts to get out of the tutu.
"That's right, so let's get moving. We can't start the recital without our star on stage," the woman said, Gaz's eyes widening in shock in response.
"Recital? Star? You actually expect me to let people see me like this?!" she demanded incredulously.
"Now, sweetie, there's no reason to be nervous just because you're going to be dancing in front of literally everyone you've ever met," the woman said, her words clearly meant to calm Gaz down but having the opposite effect, "Now let's go."
"Hey, let go!" Gaz demanded, as the woman grabbed her arm and started dragging her out of the room. She tried to break free and start beating an explanation out of this woman as to how she ended up here, but to her further shock she found that she couldn't. Her almost supernatural strength and rage-fueled powers were nowhere to be found, leaving her as overpowered as anyone else her age would be in this situation.
Before she knew it, the woman was shoving Gaz through a curtain with a cry of "break a leg". Stumbling a few feet, Gaz froze as a spotlight suddenly lit up on her. Looking up, she saw that she was standing alone on a stage in a huge auditorium, which was full to the brim with hundreds of people, all of them staring at her, taking in the image of her in this ridiculously girly outfit.
Gaz could only stand and blush in humiliation and panic, before...
Option 1: Gaz suddenly finds her body moving on its own, dancing very well. But the audience starts mocking her for being so girly instead of the tough tomboy she claims to be.
Option 2: Gaz forces herself to play along and tries dancing, but only receives laughs and jeers at her poor performance.
Option 3: Gaz freezes up in panic, and is jeered for not performing.
Option 4: Gaz tries to flee the stage, but this just makes things worse somehow.
Option 5: Something Else (Reader's Choice)
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author