After Simon Davison's metamorphosis was complete, the person who sat behind the desk was no longer a 51-year old principled man and upstanding member of society. Instead, Simon Davison was a 51-year old Goth who suddenly couldn't give a fuck about society or anyone else for that matter. The only people he cared about were his friends, like the boy who was standing only a few feet away from him.
Simon stood up and looked down at himself. Covering his much lankier and much paler body was a nylon shirt beneath a black leather under-bust corset, a long black leather skirt (similar to Trevor's and Randy's), and black boots. Simon knew it was wrong, that he wasn't supposed to be this way, but at the same time, it felt totally right.
"You changed like I did," Randy said, breaking out of his new persona. The shock of Simon's metamorphosis must have snapped him out of Trevor's hold on him ... at least temporarily. He could already feel his new persona (the one who considered Trevor as his best friend) coming back.
"What do you mean?" Simon asked, looking up at him.
Suddenly, the door to the office swung open and in walked ...