"Madison! You're dead meat!" Biff yelled up the stairs. It all came together earlier that day at school.
Now that he knew for certain that Jon was responsible for every embarrassing detail of his life that had taken place during the past week, he had only one mission in life; to make Jon Madison pay for what he did. He was sure Jon found it pretty funny that he stuffed his burly figure into a frilly tops, plaid skirts, nylons and heels every day, but those days were over. Jon probably also found it hilarious that, all day today, he was playing cheerleader - strutting down the halls in a tiny pleated skirt and knee socks, his face covered in glitter.
And that's what lead Biff to where he was now, standing at the stairs of the Madison household in the Folsom High Diablos cheerleading uniform, hands on his hips ready to tear Jon a new one, the red and white bows in his blonde hair a stark contrast to the pure anger seeping from his eyeballs.
Jon should've been more careful. He knew following Biff around would be a bad idea, but Karyn insisted that he live a little and watch his transformation from the front-lines. Some friend she was. Now Biff knew everything -- and Jon was first on the death list.
Biff moved methodically up the stairs. He wanted to give that loser Madison enough time to think about what he had done. With each step he took, the white skirt with red and yellow trim flipped back and forth behind him, reminding Biff of his predicament, making him angrier as he walked.
Jon watched in horror as Biff Meadows pushed the door open and walked into his room. He may've been dressed ridiculously for his figure, but at that moment, he loomed larger than life. Biff had changed a lot during the past week, though. Jon was almost used to the bleached blonde haircut, and the shaved legs, and the way Biff now filled out the front of whatever top he was wearing, but what Jon hadn't noticed was that Biff also carried himself differently now. In the past, Biff would've ran up the stairs, bashed in his door, and made short work of him, but now, there was almost something distinctly different about how he was acting. Jon had seen that pose before - legs spread shoulder-length apart, fists resting on hips, and a smirk wiped across their face. Jon could pick out that mannerism anywhere.
It was just like Sarah.
And if Jon knew anything about Sarah, he knew that she had one weakness. Herself. It was his only chance.
The jock began his approach toward Jon. His hands were already in the strangle position. The consequences would be worth it; he was going to make Jon beg.
But that's when something strange happened. As he lunged to make his move, Jon jumped out of the way, and flipped a full-length mirror at Biff. At first, he was taken off guard, but then, as he locked eyes with his reflection, a realization came to Biff's face.
He was beautiful.
Biff's eyes began to scan up his figure, and as he did, things rearranged themselves as they began to change. He started at the red-and-yellow Nike's that gave way to lean, sculpted legs that went on for miles. His skirt, an immaculate white, dropped down to the middle part of his thighs while the pleats pushed out invitingly from his behind, a perfect compliment to the two mounds that stretched the word "Diablos" across the turtleneck sweater over his chest. His nails, painted a fire engine red, were sharp and long, a stark contrast to the softness that his facial features had taken on, yet matching perfectly his shade of lipstick. He was a goddess, a queen among women. As Biff continued to stare at his reflection, heavily made-up eyes wide, the pitch of his internal voice became higher. His mind became filled with ways he could show off his beauty, and flaunt it. "He" and "him's" became "she" and "her's."
The once star-quarterback smiled at herself and winked.
_________
The roar of the crowd was deafening.
On cue, Biff raised her pom-pons straight into the air and shook them vigorously as the Diablos ran past. A jolt of electric excitement coerced through her body as the band began their fight song.
Biff looked down the row. Seven girls dressed identically in the same uniform, though only Biff's had the word "Captain" monogrammed over her right breast.
"One, Two, Three, Four!"
Biff faced the audience and flashbulbs began to go off. She felt the eyes of the crowd on her every movement. She reveled in it. Biff Meadows, leader of the squad, knew all eyes were on her. She was feminine perfection in a dainty little package. As the band started their next song, she flashed her brightest smile and rolled into routine number 9. A quick shimmy in the front, roundoff in the back, and two heel turns, the perfect amount to give everyone in the stands a brief glimpse of her panties.
The crowd erupted, and Biff soaked it all in. One hand on her hips, another pointed straight to the sky, a microcosm of her future. There was nowhere to go but up. And there was so much to look forward to! The sororities! The modeling! The shopping! The sex. A girl like her was going to do it all. Not to mention all the parties she would be invited to and the attention she commanded whenever she walked into a crowded room - she already had ideas for what she'd be wearing to graduation. Of course, that was just the future.
Right now, she had to put on a halftime show.
