Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Likes boys, loves to party...  A tale of the Evil Fag-Hag ...part 1

   "You need to come to this party on Saturday night, Donny." Gordy Locke
wheels up on his motorbike to enthuse.  Just one leather clad biker buddy
to another.  It happened in the parking lot outside of our favourite occult
bookstore.

   Too bad for them, the Fag-Hag and certain others happened to hear it. 
I'm Allan Sheppard, by the way, just some thirty-something loser in life
who happens to be openly gay.

   "The Cherry Popper!" Donny perks up loudly enough for us to hear:
"That's what the guys in the gang called the party last year.  You'd have
to be into boys - If you can't get laid at THAT ho-down!"

   "They've invited lots of high school bitches." The one named Gordy perks
up to add: "There were virgins last year." "Pretty girls getting high on
dope and gallons of keg beer - and right on this isolated farm." Donny
starts talking excited again.

   "I'll sure be looking for a tighty virgin there." Gordy lamely promises.
"You'll see me camping out all night there - For Sure!" Donny says like he
means it.  "I'd like to nail a tighty virgin for once."

   Donny was this dark haired youth who hung out with his blond haired
buddy, Gordy.  Both were adorably cute, little 18 year old males who grew
up in the same neighbourhood and belonged to this local biker gang.

   'The N-forcers', this wheeled band of mostly beefy, older bearded dudes,
but the pretty pair wasn't inside the gang's inner circle, of course.  The
hard-core older criminals knew both lovely young males as kids, you'd think
they adopted them both as mascots or something.

   "Like puppies yearning for affection", The Fag-Hag complained to me
about the macho kids more than once.  Her idea of the lovely young males
trying to earn their gang's respect, I suppose.

   "I'd be willing to bet." The Fag-Hag says to me somewhat annoyed: "Not
ALL the lovely virgins at their party - will be Girls!" That was about her
comment after the motorcycle party boys rode away.

   "Those pretty male hoods have banged girls before." I remarked to the
her knowingly.  Sometimes, their older biker buddies would throw a party
lasting for days.  Older, more jaded females would often go for their
cheerful young spirit.

   Romantic company plus that teen male sex drive.  "They're still virgins
when it comes to same-sex, Allan." The Fag-Hag points her evil finger to
remind me.

   The Fag-Hag looked seventy if she was a day.  A powdery form of mascara
defined the lines of an aging face.  Today she was dressing more corporate
fashionable, wearing a tweed suit and skirt, a longer woollen skirt and in
sensible shoes.

   A former fashion model, her greyish hair was usually made up in this
1920's girly style.  With short curvy waves and often wearing this hooded,
Medieval looking cloak.

   "Like the bad guy in some Robin Hood movie", some guys have described
her to me.  "Jackals', was the term she used to describe them.

   The beefy rogue males from our local motorcycle gang, entering the
Fag-Hag's beloved, new-age party scene in order to meet the girls and get
laid; "Hitting on all the ladies with beer in hand and in the most blatant
of ways."

   She probably seethed in resentment against the bearded male warriors,
their 'cave man' attitudes towards women and same sex couples, for
instance.

   Me and the Fag-Hag were on the patio outside our favourite occult
bookstore and having a smoke.  I never noticed Dale being there, but he
must have also noticed the pretty teen-age macho boys.

   "Those foxy looking outlaws really need to meet new boys." He flashes
the Fag-Hag this winning smile.  A former geekboy from Nebraska, Dale Flynn
did a lot of heavy lifting, as a kid growing up on a farm.

   A well sculped handsome muscular youth, Dale drifted into our town when
he decided to come out proud and gay.  For some reason, the Fag-Hag decided
to take him under her wing and find him a job.

   "Dale picks up on a lot of things." She positively cackled to me about
the guy a few times.  A righteous vegan newcomer, the young buck became a
strict vegetarian with that convert's zeal.

   "He's really willing to learn new things." The Fag-Hag made comment to
me about him once, about this harsh but handsome new-age muscle fag.  She
calls him 'Teen-age Moses''.

   Everybody in this town calls him 'Teen-age Moses' now, his co-workers at
this warehouse that distributes vegan foods, patrons of our favourite
occult bookstore and new-age party people.

   Because of this light patch of beard across his handsome male jaw, kind
of like a teen-age Moses in one of those lame, biblical type of Hollywood
movies.

   "Those bearded old biker hoodlums - I'm almost JEALOUS OF THEM!" 'Teen
Moses' makes cheerful comment to me and the Fag-Hag directly.  "Because
they have such pretty male mascots.!"

   "Our pretty male outlaws DO have unworthy companions." The Fag-Hag
agrees.  "On some level, they really do fancy other boys - But they're too
sexually repressed to ever act on it."

   "And the lovely little blond haired one." 'Teen Moses' quizzes me about
the guy directly: "The one they call Goldilocks, what kind of a name for a
straight up guy is that?"

   "His real name is Gordy Locke." I tell 'Teen Moses': "So the other guys
call him Goldilocks." "Goldilocks shouldn't be hanging out with those older
criminals." The Fag-Hag comments icily.

   "Donny's been TOO BUSY to play with the criminal crowd." 'Teen Moses'
makes this private chuckle, mostly to the Fag-Hag.  "At least 'till be
heard about the Virgins - and the keg party!"

   "Donny promised Bruno he'd quit getting stoned and everything." 'Teen
Moses' laughs to me as juicy gossip.  "He promised Bruno he'd quit the
motorcycle gang too, last week-end when they went out, in fact."

   I laughed because the pretty dark haired youth was just heard talking
about a party, right?  But I wasn't too sure about the connection between
Donny and Bruno.

   Bruno was the openly gay brother of Claire, the Fag-Hag's younger
understudy, in this coven of local witches.  'Teen Moses' and Bruno lived
in the 'clubhouse', this annex building and gym, besides this mansion in
the far suburbs.

   "Donny's been wearing pantyhose underneath his black leather jeans." The
Fag-Hag wickedly cackles to me in report: "Him and Bruno were becoming an
item, spending their weekend in the clubhouse last week."

   "It's supposed to be a secret." 'Teen Moses' warns me, then adds: "And
now Bruno's secret little pantywaist is doing WORSE than just drinking with
other boys - he wants in on their virgin sacrifices too!"

   "Virgins, eh?" The Fag-Hag says to herself mostly annoyed.  "It IS a
sacrifice in a way, isn't it? ....That's where I draw the line!"

   The Fag-Hag gets like that sometimes, crazy.  She'll have a few drinks
and often mumble something about the 'olden days', and NOT when she was a
little girl either.  Past lives, she meant.

   All her important friends (and enemies!) have crossed paths with her
BEFORE - as in a PAST LIFE.  The motorcycle hoodlums of today were just
another version of the (dreadful) male warriors as in days of yore.

   And this line had just been crossed, according to the Fag-Hag: merely
because 'Teen Moses' put the words 'virgin' and 'sacrifice' in the same
sentence, crazy.

   "Bruno's ability to impact his secret little lover boy disappoints me."
The Fag-Hag lamented to 'Teen Moses' sadly.

   "Bruno must have been the first." I blurted out to say.  "The first
openly gay dude Donny ever bothered to talk to - let alone fuck!" I really
suspected a spell, but didn't want to confront the witchy old lady about it
yet.

   "Those two?" The Fag-Hag makes cheerful comment to me in remark: "Donny
and Bruno were always exchanging those naughty glances.  All I ever did was
break a little macho ice, that's all." She explains as if speaking about
the weather.

   "And Goldilocks checks out other boys too." 'Teen Moses' chimes in to
add: "We always see him wagging the buns in those sexy-tight leather jeans.
He seems to enjoy doing it more when some of us gay muscle jocks are able
to see too, I believe."
This nineteen-year old buff, and handsome muscle fag wonders aloud: "I'd
LOVE to take him somewhere - and PULL OFF his sexy tight leather pants. 
The gym or besides a swimming pool, perhaps, I'll bet my flirty gay virgin

has a really hot pansy tail!"

   "You want him BAD!" The Fag-Hag wickedly cackles to interrupt his train
of thought.  It was right about then I noticed her doing it.  Looking 'Teen
Moses' up and down as if in appraisal.

   "On some level, pretty punk Goldilocks must really like you." She tells
this handsome, openly gay muscle jock directly.  He smirks to her knowingly
and I understood what she meant.

   Sometimes, those two would exchange those naughty kinds of glances, come
to think about it.  Just like Donny and Bruno did before too, I thought it
was just drunken, teen male antics at the time.

   Leather-clad but lovely, little male tarts from out of the macho pack,
making furtive eye-contact with two wickedly endowed, strong-arm handsome
muscle fags.

   "Yes, of course." The Fag-Hag appeared to cackle more in reasoning. 
"Our pretty little Romeos have checked out the girls before, and sometimes
they got lucky."

   "Yea!" I beaked off to the Fag-Hag.  She complained to me about it often
enough.  "You don't like the lovely male outlaws because - they like to
invade your beloved, new-age party scenes in order to meet the girls and
get laid!"

   "And we also notice they check out other guys." The Fag-Hag replies to
me as if speaking to a small child.  "A much better class of buddies - than
those drunken, older goons they party with now."

   She begins to cackle more in reasoning: "So, our pretty male rascals
must be coming sexually aware - of ALL the foxy looking boys in our dating
pool!"

   She looks 'Teen Moses' up and down as if sizing him up again and adds:
"I'm sure a much stronger, in control kind of boyfriend for those two would
be in order.  "

   "Bruno needs to pick up the ball." The handsome gay confident 'Teen
Moses' agrees.  "To make sure his secret little pantyboy, Donny, doesn't
get that sexually frustrated.  And Goldilocks DOES need to see other boys!"

   "In pantyhose, of course!" The Fag-Hag positively cackled in twisted
cheer.  "Just like his pretty little buddy, Donny.  Luckily for them,
there's always a SPELL for THAT.  Their skirt-chasing days are so over!"

   I shuddered, but the Fag-Hag was the twisted sister who first imagined
true romance, or (at least) a wild sexual undercurrent.



   More than enough to float a spell................................



   To be continued...................