SRU: Riverdale Revisions
By Tebra

PROLOGUE:

	The sun beamed brilliantly across the polished floor of the mall. It was 
just after 9AM on a Saturday and only a few shoppers had appeared. The old man 
stood in the doorway of his shop, took another sip of his hot tea, and glanced 
towards the front of the mall.

	It was so peaceful at these times, he thought. Before the crowds and the 
noise. He sighed. This was his time. The moment he allowed himself each day, 
before plunging into his work. He took another sip of the tea, and then stepped 
out into the mall to look at his store.

	He cocked his head and stared at the storefront with a critical eye. 
Perhaps it was time for a change. His establishment was beginning to look out-
of-date, almost quaint. This had been some much easier in the old days. Simply 
slipping the shop into a downtown area, replacing a vacant store (there always 
was one) no one ever questioned. And he had always blended in. Now... but still, 
"retro" was in, and, as he had told that Porter fellow, "everything old is new 
again".

	Hearing a clattering of heels on the polished tile floor, he turned to see 
two girls walking towards him. Both were beautiful, probably no more than 16. 
The first was a striking brunette wearing a red mini dress and 2 inch heels. She 
looked around with disdain at the bargain shops her friend was window-shopping 
at. Her companion was a cute blonde with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She 
wore tight jeans and sneakers.

	The old man smiled, and then stepped back into his shop.

	"Really, Betty", the brunette said, "why you want to shop at these 
dreadful el cheapo places is beyond me."

	The blonde sighed, and then replied, "Because, Veronica, not everyone has 
your money. Some of us HAVE to buy our clothes at discount places. And these are 
quite nice clothes, thank you."

	"Whatever," Veronica said absently, looking around.

	"Oh, look, Ron! That darling green blouse is half off! I'm going to try it 
on."

	'Huh!' Thought Veronica, 'It'll be more than HALF off, the first time you 
wear it with Archie.'

	As Betty slipped inside the boutique, Veronica looked around, an 
expression of utter disgust on her lovely features. She scanned the storefronts 
nearby. She mentally ticked them off: "Tacky... tacky... cheap AND tacky..." She 
stopped. Her eye rested on the odd looking shop. It seemed so out of place. And 
it looked so DIRTY. Perhaps it was an antique store. She wandered over to its 
front window.

	Looking in, she saw all manner of items, some junk and some... some 
potentially rare things. Was that a Chippendale chair that the dog was sleeping 
under? She glanced at the name etched into the glass of the door. "Spells 'R' 
Us"

	"Huh!" she thought. "How tacky."

	Turning the knob, she entered and looked around. It was surprisingly cool 
inside, despite the already hot summer day.

	"Good morning, Miss Lodge," said a voice almost at her elbow. She jumped, 
and then whirled to look at the speaker. He was an old man with a long white 
beard, broad and bushy, giving his face a Santa Clause appearance at first 
glance. However, a closer look revealed fiercely black eyebrows over eyes that 
seemed to burn with both intensity and mirth. He was wearing an exquisite 16th 
century silk robe. Veronica estimated it to be worth 15 thousand, minimum. Yet, 
incongruously, protruding from the hem of the garment were the tips of bunny 
slippers.

	"My apologies," he said in a voice quiet and comforting. "I did not mean 
to startle you."

	"It's quite all right," she said, her composure returning.

	"Can I help you? Was there a particular item you wished to see?"

	"Yes," she said, turning to point, "That chair over..." her voice trailed 
off. The dog remained asleep in the corner, but the chair under which it slept 
was an aluminum and plastic kitchen chair, circa 1957.

	She stared. She would have sworn the chair was wood. A Chippendale. She 
rubbed her eyes, and then shook her head to clear it.

	"Yes?" the man prompted, "The chair?"

	"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I thought... never mind. No, no I'm not 
interested in THAT chair." She looked around, trying to retain her dignity.

	The door opened and Betty entered. "There you are," she cried. "Honestly, 
Ronnie, next time let me know where you're going." She looked around curiously. 
"I never would have expected you to be HERE."

	Veronica, somewhat embarrassed to be found in what now appeared to be a 
cheap junktique store, lifted her chin and replied haughtily, "I'll have you 
know I just came in here for... for..." her eyes darted around the store, then 
fixed on a box of small, yellow packages by the cash register. "For GUM!" she 
finished, grabbing a pack and slapping it down on the counter.

	The old man smiled, and then rang up the purchase. "75 cents," he said.

	Veronica began rummaging through her purse. "Oh, dear," she said, holding 
out a bill, "The smallest I've got is a hundred."

	The old man began to reach for the twenties slot of his cash drawer when 
Betty said, "Never mind, Ron." She fished out a dollar from her hip pocket and 
handed it to the man. "Here you go," she said, giving him a broad smile.

	"Thank you, Miss Cooper," he said, grinning in reply.

	Betty took the quarter he offered, tossed Ronnie the gum, and turned to 
go.

	"Remember, ladies," the old man called, "always read the directions."

	Betty looked at him oddly, and then opened the door. Veronica pushed past 
her, cheeks still flushed with embarrassment.

	As they moved back into the mall, Betty suddenly stopped and said, "Hey! 
How'd that old guy know my name? Did you tell him?"

	"Betty, dear, you know I don't talk about you if I can help it."

	"Hah-hah. Big surprise." she said. They continued on for a while, window-
shopping, until Betty said thoughtfully, "Say, what do you think he meant about 
reading the instructions?"

	"I have no idea, Betty. All I bought was this gum," she said holding up 
the yellow pack. "Shit!" she exclaimed.

	"What's wrong?" Betty asked.

	"This!" said Ronnie, holding out the gum. Betty took the pack and examined 
it. Despite its familiar yellow appearance, a closer look revealed not the 
familiar "Juicyfruit" logo, but rather the words "Geniefruit", while underneath 
was printed the slogan: 'A Wish in Every Stick'.

	"Can you believe it," Ronnie ranted. "The bastard sold me KNOCK-OFF gum! 
And for more than the real stuff costs!"

	"Hmmm," said Betty, turning the package over in her hands. "Hey, look at 
this. It really does have instructions."

	"Oh, yeah," continued Ronnie, snatching the gum and shoving it deep into 
her purse, "'Put in mouth. Chew.' Big fuckin' deal!"

	"Don't forget 'Do not attempt to walk while chewing'," Betty giggled.

	Ron smiled, and they headed out the doors towards the car.

Part 1: VERONICA

	Veronica Lodge has always been a sound sleeper. In fact, was one to ask 
the staff at the Lodge mansion, one could be told that the dainty Miss Lodge can 
saw wood with the best of them. So it was not surprising when she slept right 
through her alarm clock on Tuesday morning. 8AM came and went, as did 9. And 10. 
And 11.

	When she awakened, blissful and refreshed, at the crack of 11:45, Miss 
Lodge stretched, yawned, glanced at the clock, and began to scream.

	"SMITHERS!" she bellowed, her voice echoing through the halls of the 
mansion like a foreman's.

	Taking the steps two at a time, the faithful butler skidded to a stop in 
Veronica's doorway. "Yes... Miss Veronica?" he gasped.

	"Smithers, you ASSHOLE!" she screamed. You KNOW I have a date with Archie 
at 12:30! How the Hell do you expect me to get ready in time?!"

	Smithers, in fact, did not know anything about Veronica's date, nor did 
anyone else on the household staff. Veronica never informed them of these 
things, preferring to use her ESP to broadcast the news.

	"Miss Veronica," the panting man stammered, "I had no idea..."

	"Shut up!" she snarled. "Get in the bathroom and draw me a bath. I've got 
to see what I've going to wear."

	Smithers hurried to the tub, while Veronica flung open her closet and 
walked inside. She paused to remember exactly where she and Archie were going. 
Oh yes, a picnic. God, she hated picnics. She wasn't even all that fond of 
Archie.

	He was really pretty disappointing in the sack. Sort of a "Wham, Bam, 
Thank you ma'am" without the Wham or the Bam. In fact, he wasn't very thankful, 
either. Ronnie wasn't really very fond of him at all. Not like Reggie. She 
smiled. Reggie. Now THERE was something worth riding. He could stay hard for 
hours and she loved it. He even got into her kinky games. Not like Archie, that 
dud, with his perennial missionary style, 68-second fuck. Sigh! Why, in heaven's 
name was she getting ready for a picnic with Archie when a stud like Reggie was 
a phone call away?

	The answer came in one word: Betty. Betty wanted Archie. And, Ronnie felt, 
actually deserved him. She, with her whitebread mid-American wholesomeness, and 
he of the boring, G-rated fuck. They really belonged together. If she had her 
way, she'd give him to her. She really would. Except for one thing: Betty WANTED 
him.

	As long as Betty wanted the little prick, Ronnie would die rather than 
give him up. And to keep him, she had to keep him happy. She began to practice. 
Sorting through her wardrobe, she whispered hoarsely, "Oh God, oh God! Ohhh, 
that feels so good! Harder, baby! Harder! Oh! Oh!! OH!!!" She rolled her eyes. 
"How does he never manage to catch on" she wondered. "Probably because the only 
other pussy he's ever poked is Betty's. And she probably says the same thing. 
But," she giggled," I bet she actually MEANS it."

	She dropped her outfit on the bed. Tube top, short shorts, sandals. 
Underwear optional. "Sigh," she thought, " Of course, this means he'll have a 
hard-on the whole time. Again. I'd better drive. After the last time he tried to 
drive with a boner, we almost went into the lake." With that, she grabbed her 
designer fanny pack and began loading it with essentials from her purse.

	As her hands raked across the purse bottom, she found the pack of gum 
where she'd tossed it Saturday. Absently, she tore it open and popped a stick 
into her mouth.

	"Miss Veronica," Smithers announced, "Your bath is ready."

	"About damn time," she snarled, tossing the fanny pack to the bed, 
spilling its contents across the silken sheets. "Shit!" she exclaimed, "Shit, 
shit, shit!! Hell, just leave it there. I've gotta get ready."

	With that, she let the satin nightgown drop from her tan shoulders, caught 
it with a flip of her leg and tossed it into the face of the butler. 
Pirouetting, she smiled and asked, "Like what you see, Smithers?"

	His face an expressionless mask, Smithers dryly remarked, "Adequate, I 
think."

	"You asshole," she said with a grin, then turned and headed into the 
bathroom, all the while enjoying the hard-on she saw straining against the 
butler's smartly creased trousers.

	Veronica slipped into the hot, bubbled waters and lay back. She closed her 
eyes and began to relax. Her breathing grew slower and soon the sound of snoring 
filled the room.

	Nonplused, Smithers entered the bathroom carrying a silver pitcher of ice 
water. Walking to the tub, he emptied the contents over Veronica's head. She 
leapt to her feet, drenching the room and the butler.

	"What..." she began, her voice trembling with rage, "What the FUCK was 
that?!"

	"Ice water," he replied.

	"I know it was fucking ice water, you prick! What was it doing on my 
head?!"

	"As you stated earlier, you have a date with Master Archie in..." he 
checked his pocket watch, "32 minutes. You have no time to sleep. Good day, Miss 
Veronica."

	She shook with rage as she watched him leave the room. She was pissed. And 
she was pissed because he was right. Damn it, she hated it when Smithers was 
right. She hopped back into the tub and began hurriedly soaping her legs. She'd 
get him, she thought. Just wait 'll next time they played "Mistress and 
Manservant". No nookie for him. Hah! She began to feel better already.

	Twenty minutes later, she sat in front of her enormous vanity mirror, 
rollers in her hair and a copious amount of mudpack obscuring her features. She 
stared at her reflection, then crossed her eyes and blew a bubble. She giggled. 
Thank God Archie couldn't see her now.

	She walked over to the bed and began to wiggle the short shorts up her 
legs. Suddenly, she heard the chimes of the front door bell. From far away, she 
heard voices talking, then the pounding of feet up the stairs. "Ronnie!" a voice 
called, "Are you ready yet?"

	Archie! Shit! She was nowhere near ready. And she looked awful. She 
couldn't let him see her like this. It just wasn't done. She looked around for 
somewhere to hide. As she heard the doorknob rattle, she hissed under her 
breath, "I wish I could just disappear."

	And with that, Veronica Lodge, 16 year-old heiress, cheerleader, tease, 
and sexual adventuress, vanished.

	The door swung open and a redheaded, freckle-faced boy stood in the 
doorway. He scanned the room, and then shrugged. With hunched shoulders, he 
slowly left the mansion. "Huh!" he thought, "Blew me off again. She's probably 
out with Reggie. Man, why do I put up with her?"

	He slowly trudged towards the Chocklit Shop, leaving behind the very 
elegant and very EMPTY room of Veronica Lodge.

Part 2: JUGHEAD

	Jughead Jones was hungry. He was always hungry. In fact, he could not 
recall a moment in his life when he had not been hungry. So it was a testimony 
to his friendship to Archie Andrews that at this moment, he was passing up the 
opportunity to enjoy a plate of burgers at the Chocklit Shop, and was hunting 
for his friend. Jughead knew Arch had a date with Ronnie at 12:30. He also knew 
Ronnie had never been on time in her life, so he felt his chances for catching 
Archie at her house were good.

	He bounded up the back steps of the Lodge mansion (his favorite method of 
entering, as the kitchen lay there) and poked his head inside. Gaston, the 
French chef employed by the Lodges, stood surrounded by seemingly mountains of 
food. Jughead's eyes glazed over and he began to drool.

	"Gaston," he called, "Mi amigo, ma compadre'..."

	"Non!" interrupted the Frenchman. "Non, non, non! Not a bite, Zughaid, not 
a morsel! Ziz is for Mister Lodge's dinnair party tonight!"

	"But Gaston," Jug began, "There's so much... Nobody'd miss a little bit?"

	"Alors'!" Gaston cried, "Wiz you, zere is no such zing as a LEETLE bit!"

	Jug tried to look pitiful, but even he couldn't keep from laughing at 
this. He said, "All right, I know when I'm licked."

	Gaston regarded him with suspicion, but also grinned.

	"Anyway, I really came by to see if Arch was here. Have you seen him?"

	"Non, but I 'eard him go up ze stairs to Mam'selle Veronica's room a short 
time ago. He's probably still zere."

	"Thanks, Gaston."

	"Zughaid. Wait a moment," Gaston called.

	Jug turned and Gaston said with a wink, "Ef zay are togather in Mam'selle 
Veronica's room, you'll probably 'ave to wait."

	Jug grinned in agreement.

	"'owever," Gaston continued, slipping him a cold drumstick, "Since it is 
Archee, she is weeth, it shouldn't be a LONG wait, non?"

	"Not long at all," agreed Jug, taking the offered treat and moving up the 
back stairs. "Not long at all."

	Jug moved down the second floor hallway, licking his lips. Nearing 
Veronica's door, he paused to drop the flayed drumstick bone into a large 
flowerpot. He stepped to the open door and knocked.

	"Hello?" he called. Stepping inside, he looked around. Seeing no sign of 
his good buddy or Riverdale's Teen Queen, Jug was about to leave when something 
caught his eye. There, on Ronnie's bed lay an open pack of gum. It was no ice 
cream cone, but Jug WAS in need of something sweet to finish off his little 
snack. He unwrapped a stick and began to chew. His mind drifted back to the 
mountains of goodies surrounding Gaston in the kitchen. Absently, he slipped the 
gum into his pocket.

	His food fantasies were making him drool again. He wiped his mouth with 
back of his hand and said, "Damn! Food like that is enough to make me wish I was 
Veronica."

	And with that, Jughead's body began to twitch and squirm, flesh flowing 
like water. His already thin waist constricted, moving higher on his torso. His 
hips widened, threatening to rip the seams of his chinos. His chest swelled, 
forcing the 'S' on his shirt high and wide. His black hair grew longer, falling 
past his shoulders, and his fingernails formed themselves into perfect ovals. He 
seemed to shrink all over, becoming both smaller and shorter. And his nose... 
his impossibly huge, distinctively Jonesish beak, shrank into a tiny, upturned 
button on his now smooth face.

	His swollen chest separated into two distinct, round shapes, his tiny 
nipples standing erect against the rough fabric of his T-shirt. And down below, 
his secret weapon, his dick, and his monumental 13-inch rod, dwindled to 
nothing, swallowed by his body. Then that body began to split, opening into a 
warm, wet slit between his legs.

	His hands flew to his crotch, then to his breasts. A look of horror was 
etched on his now-lovely features. "Shit." he whispered, in a voice not his own. 
At the sound of the soft, high-pitched tones, his hand left his crotch to grasp 
his throat. "Oh my God!" he gasped, in a voice like honey.

	He stared at himself, his clothes fitting his now-feminine frame oddly, 
yet provocatively. He tore his eyes away from his body and looked around the 
room wildly. Spying the large vanity mirror, he raced towards it.

	Or tried to.

	His new arrangement of weight and mass, not to mention pants now too long 
for him, combined to bring him crashing to the ground within three steps. With 
tears beginning to flow, he pulled himself to his knees and crawled across the 
room. Reaching the vanity, he struggled into the chair and stared disbelievingly 
into the glass.

	Looking back at him, hair disheveled and tears dripping from her cheeks, 
was Veronica Lodge.

	He reached a trembling hand to his face and watched in horror as the girl 
in the glass did the same thing. He reached for the tiny nose, moving his 
fingers across it in wonder. He examined the hand touching the nose; small, 
delicate fingers with perfect nails. No sign of the small scar on the back of 
the left hand, a memento of a barbwire fence when he was ten. He stared at his 
deep green eyes, no longer the brown he'd known for sixteen years. Reaching 
upward with his small, delicate hands he removed the gray felt, crown-shaped hat 
he always wore. His hair, though standing out at wild angles, shown with luster 
and fell in waves across his shoulders.

	He moved his hands lower, lifting the tee shirt to stare in wonder at the 
twin forms on his chest. He touched one nipple with a fingertip, experiencing a 
tingle of pleasure. He cupped them in each hand, index fingers massaging the 
nipples. An involuntary moan escaped his lips, its throaty, feminine quality 
bringing his mind back to reality. He pulled his hands away as though his 
breasts were hot coals.

	Shuddering with a mixture of pleasure and revulsion, he unzipped his 
chinos and slipped a hand inside his shorts. His fingers met warm, wet flesh. 
Hesitating only a moment, he slipped a finger inside his new-found opening. More 
fingers quickly joined the first, while the other hand spread the lips wide as 
he bent nearly double trying to see this mysterious object. His fingertips 
brushed something and he almost slid out of the chair. Carefully, he felt for 
the object again, lightly brushing it. Again, waves of pleasure filled him.

	With a mixture of clinical detachment and Christmas-morning joy, he 
realized it was his clit! Ronnie's clit! No, damn it, HIS clit! He began to 
stroke it, faster and faster, his hips unconsciously thrusting him out of the 
chair again and again. Then it happened. A pressure, building and building in 
his groin suddenly exploded, washing over him with wave after wave of pleasure.

	As the roaring in his ears subsided, he realized he could hear someone 
squealing with pleasure. Then he realized it was him! He clamped his jaw shut 
and listened hard. He could hear footsteps coming down the hall! "Oh God," he 
though, "Oh God, I 'm caught. They've caught me jerkin' off in Ronnie's room. Oh 
God."

	Suddenly, Smithers stood in the doorway, his large frame filling it and 
preventing anyone else from entering. Jug looked at him miserably, cheeks 
flushed crimson, hands still in his crotch.

	Smithers sighed, and then turned to the rest of the staff. "False alarm, 
everyone. It appears Miss Veronica has... spilled something on herself."

	The others moved away, quite a few of them grinning with surety of what 
had really happened. Smithers stepped inside and quietly closed the door. He 
stood over Jug and looked at him disapprovingly. "Really, Veronica," he said, 
exasperation in his voice, "I thought you were over this? You haven't done one 
of your 'happy squeals' in ages."

	Jug just stared uncomprehendingly, overcome with embarrassment.

	"Must 'uv been a good one, eh?" Smithers said with a wink. Jug said 
nothing, but looked away, unable to meet another man's gaze in such a situation. 
Smithers sighed, then reached down and extracted Jug's hands from his pussy. He 
arched an eyebrow at the boxer shorts, but said nothing. Veronica had certainly 
engaged in much kinkier clothing before. He grasped Jug by the elbows and 
brought him unsteadily to his feet. As he stood there, still dazed, Smithers 
tugged the chinos back in place and zipped them up. He gently placed an arm 
around Jug's considerably smaller shoulders and let him into the bathroom.

	Jug stood like a child as Smithers took his dainty hands in his large ones 
and began to scrub them under the tap. Finished, Smithers took the towel and 
dried Jug's hands, then squirted a dollop of lotion in each palm. Without 
thinking, Jug rubbed the lotion in.

	"I gather you no longer are meeting Master Archie for the picnic?" 
Smithers asked, maneuvering Jug back into the bedroom.

	Realizing Smithers was waiting for an answer, Jug turned to him and 
managed, "No... No, I'm... I'm not."

	Smithers nodded knowingly, though he had no idea why she'd changed her 
mind. Poor kid probably said something wrong. Veronica could be a real bitch 
when she wanted to.

	"It's just as well, Miss," he said. "You don't seem very steady today. 
Perhaps you're ill. Or is it that time of month again?"

	Jug tried, but he just couldn't make his mind grasp what Smithers had 
said. "Ill, I guess," he mumbled.

	"Well, stand there," Smithers said, opening a bureau drawer. Rummaging, he 
pulled out an emerald green nightgown and laid it on the bed. Turning to Jug, he 
pulled the T-shirt over his head, showing no surprise at the lack of a bra. 
Unzipping the pants, he dropped them to the floor. Seeing the boxers, he turned 
to another drawer and removed a matching pair of green panties. Slipping Jug out 
of the boxers, he shimmied the silken panties into place, and then lowered the 
nightgown over Jug's head. Then, seating Jug on the bed, Smithers removed the 
thick, white socks and tossed them into the garbage can.

	Pushing Jug down, Smithers pulled the covers over him, kissed him on the 
forehead, and said, "Rest now. You should be fine in a few hours."

	He left, closing the door behind him.

	Jughead Jones, 16 year-old woman-hater, work-avoider, food-maniac, and BOY 
lay there, in his panties and nightgown, feeling his breasts rise and fall with 
each breath. He inched his hands back toward his crotch.

	After several orgasms, Jug was feeling considerably mellower. In fact, he 
positively glowed. He rolled and stretched, enjoying the feel of each and every 
sensation. He felt good. He felt great. He felt...hungry.

	In many ways, this relieved his mind. Hunger was familiar to him. It was 
an old friend. He felt more like himself. And he remembered all that food Gaston 
had in the kitchen. And he was Veronica, now. Gaston couldn't keep him from 
eating all he wanted. He licked his lips.

	He rolled out of bed and peeled off the nightgown. He grabbed his chinos 
and worked them over his wide hips. Zipping them up, he tossed on his T-shirt 
and headed downstairs. Whatever had caused this was beyond Jug's experience. He 
needed to think things over. And he always thought better on a full stomach.

Part 3: BETTY

	Several hours later, Jug sat in the Lodge dining room, a score of dirty 
plates scattered around him. He was just finishing a BLT and musing over his new 
situation when Betty walked in. She stared at him, unable to believe what she 
saw. There sat Veronica Lodge, the queen of fashion, the ultimate snob, 
Riverdale's #1 diet maven, absolutely stuffed, grease and ketchup on her cheeks, 
food stains on her clothes, bread crumbs in her hair, and her pants undone to 
allow her belly more freedom.

	Betty had known something was wrong when Smithers and Gaston had called. 
They had been frantic. According to them, Veronica had come downstairs after a 
nap and demanded that Gaston fix her plate after plate of food, which she 
devoured with gusto. And she showed no signs of slowing.

	Betty had rushed right over, fearing Veronica's many neuroses may have 
spread to include Bulimia. But this... This was beyond any bulimic she'd ever 
heard of. This was... this was Jughead scale eating.

	Ronnie saw her and waved her to a chair. She burped loudly, and then said, 
"Woah, that felt good. How ya doin', Bets?"

	"Uh...fine, I think. How are YOU?"

	"Actually," Ron began, taking a bite of a chicken leg, "I was feeling 
really weird, but now I'm feeling much better."

	"I...I see," Betty said, staring at the empty plates.

	"Oh, hey, you want something?" Ron said, motioning to the food.

	"No, no thanks."

	"Aw, com'on... have something," she said shoving a steak sandwich in 
Betty's face.

	"No!" yelled Betty. "I mean, no, I've...already eaten."

	"Hey," Ron said, eyes lighting up," I know! How about some gum?"

	"I... sure, I'll take some gum." This was not going well. She couldn't 
seem to get Ronnie to quit fixating on food. Maybe if she took the gum, they 
could move on to another subject.

	Ron fished the pack out of her pocket and tossed Betty a stick. Chewing, 
Betty said, "Uh, Ron... are you okay?"

	"Sure," said Ron, shoving a handful of chips into her mouth. "Why wouldn't 
I be?"

	"Oh, I don't know," Betty began, "Maybe because you're eating like a 
PIG!!"

	"Really?" asked Ron, pieces of chips flying from her mouth.

	"Really! God! What is the matter with you?"

	Ronnie's face changed and she put down her sandwich. Her face turned 
serious. "Listen, Betty...you really wanna know?"

	"D-uh!" said Betty, in exasperation.

	"Okay," Ron began, "It's like this: Something totally weird has happened 
today. I've... I've TOTALLY CHANGED. I'm... I'm not myself anymore. I've become 
someone else."

 	"God, that's TRUE!" said Betty. "You're nothing like yourself."

	"But, see, I AM. I am like myself. It's just that myself isn't the self 
you're expecting. You're expecting Ronnie's self. And I'm not her."

	"Oh God," Betty thought, "It's worse than I thought. She's freaked out. 
Split personality." She started to cry.

	"Hey, Betty..." Ron said, "Don't cry. It'll be okay."

	"I'm... I'm sorry," Betty sobbed, "I don't... Why are... God, Ronnie! I 
just wish you'd act like the Ronnie I know!"

	Immediately, Betty could see Ronnie's face change. Her composure was back. 
Her posture changed. No longer sprawled in a chair but she sat with the grace of 
someone who knows she's better than you'll ever be. She watched as Ronnie stared 
at her clothes, then the plates of food with a look of horror. Ronnie's eyes 
grew wide, and then she began to scream.

	Betty moved to comfort her, but before she could reach her, Ron was off 
and running up the stairs.

	Betty started after her, but was stopped by a voice. "Miss Betty?" 
Smithers asked.

	Betty gave him a confused look and said with a shrug, "I don't know. But 
she seems to have snapped out of it. I HOPE."

	Betty hurried up the stairs. She found Ronnie in the bathroom, head over 
the toilet, forcing a finger down her throat. She turned away as Ronnie heaved 
again. "God," she thought, "I was right. Bulimia."

	She walked back into Ronnie's room and waited, trying to think how to 
handle this.

	In the bathroom, Veronica Lodge continued to induce vomiting, emptying 
herself of all that food Jug had wanted so badly. He couldn't understand it. How 
could he have wanted all that food? He had a figure to maintain. And his 
clothes! They may have been okay when he was a boy, but he was Veronica Lodge 
now. He must always look and dress his best.

	He shoved a finger down his throat again, but only dry heaves resulted. 
"Thank God," he thought. He washed his face and looked in the mirror. How had 
this happened? He still didn't know, still didn't understand. And where the hell 
was the REAL Veronica? He didn't have any answers. But he felt very different 
now than before. It was like... he LIKED being Veronica.

	"No," he whispered, "it's like I WANT to be Veronica. Want it more than 
anything."

	He smiled. He tossed his hair. He stuck out his hip. "God," he thought, "I 
am one hot mama." He looked towards the bedroom. "Hotter than Little Tits in 
there," he thought smugly, "But who the hell isn't?" He squared his shoulders, 
gave his big, beautiful breasts a squeeze, and walked into the bedroom.

	Betty smiled nervously at her friend as she came out of the bathroom. 
"So..." she said, "How are you feeling?"

	"Fine," Ronnie said with a smile. "Better and a half!"

	Betty eyed her questioningly, but Ronnie ignored her and walked back into 
the bathroom. Betty followed.

	Ron turned on the bath, adjusting the temperature to suit her, and then 
emptied some of her expensive Parisian bubble bath into the water. "$50 an 
ounce," thought Jug, then stopped. "Why did I think about that," he wondered. 
"I've never been hung up on what things cost. Have I?" He thought hard, 
remembering he hadn't, but now unable to understand why he hadn't. Money was so 
IMPORTANT. It was so obvious. Just like looking your best. God, where had his 
head been?

	He stood and peeled off the T-shirt. This was pathetic. What a rag. Why 
had he practically lived in them until now? He tossed the shirt into the garbage 
can. Then, emptying the pants pockets, he tossed them as well. He hid the 
contents of the pants from Betty, no longer feeling any desire to let her know 
he wasn't really Veronica. He was... No. SHE. She was Veronica Lodge and she was 
damn well gonna stay that way.

	She slipped out of her panties, slid into the hot, bubbled water and lay 
back. She closed her eyes and began to relax.

	"Ahem," said Betty.

	Ronnie opened one eye and stared at her. As Jughead, he had always liked 
Betty. In fact, she was his favorite fuck, since she got so wild when they did 
it. Now, however, she was finding her tiresome. Betty really was a tawdry little 
thing. So tacky. Why hadn't she seen it before? "Yes?" she asked.

	"Uh, Ron, you uh, you wanna talk?"

	"No, not particularly."

	"You don't think what you did was unusual?"

	"Hell, yes, it was unusual! It was sick!" Ron said, sitting up and 
sloshing water on the floor. "But it's over. I'm myself again. Veronica Lodge is 
back, and I'm feeling fine."

	"And that's it?" asked Betty.

	"Yes, that's it. Goodbye." she said, with a wave of her hand.

	Fuming at her friend's condescension, Betty stalked towards the bedroom 
door. As she turned the knob, she heard Veronica call, "Betty?"

	"Well," thought Betty, "Maybe she's actually gonna apologize." She walked 
back to the bathroom door. "Yes?" she asked.

	"Oh, Betty, be a dear and ask Smithers to bring me a glass of tea. 
Caffeine free, of course."

	"Arrgh!" mumbled Betty as she slammed the door.

	"What is her problem?" mused Veronica, as her long delicate fingers snaked 
towards her pussy for the third time that day.

	Downstairs, Betty stopped and helped Smithers clear away the last of the 
dishes in the dining room. He looked at her questioningly. She shrugged.

	"She seems to be her old self again. Must be. She got me mad as hell 
before I left. Oh, and her highness wants you to bring her a glass of tea. 
'Caffeine free, of course'"

	Smithers smiled. Everything must be back to normal. Veronica was being 
snotty and obnoxious and Betty was pissed off about it. "Well, try not to be so 
upset, Miss Betty. She IS your friend." He said, taking the plates from her.

	Betty laughed. "I know," she said, "That's the hell of it. She really 
thinks she's being a good friend."

	"Good-bye, Miss Betty. Thank you again."

	"Sure, Smithers, no trouble." And with that, she stood on tiptoes and 
kissed him full in the mouth. She parted her lips and the kiss lasted well over 
a minute. When they parted, she whispered huskily, "I need taking care of, too, 
Smithers."

	"Of course, Miss Betty, but when..."

	"Tonight, damn you... My folks are out of town and I need it bad, 
Smithers! BAD!"

	"Tonight, then," he smiled. Then, patting her behind, he guided her to the 
door.

	"You won't forget?" she asked, with childlike desperation.

	"I never do," he said, then closed the door.

	Her mood considerably happier now, Betty wandered down the sidewalk 
towards home, whistling "God Save the Queen".

Part 4: ARCHIE

	Wednesday morning found Archie Andrews depressed. It also found him quite 
horny, since he hadn't gotten off in over two days. Veronica had ditched him 
yesterday, probably for a quick one with Reggie, he thought. Typically, Archie 
assumed it was a "quick one", lacking any personal experience with anything 
else. Then Betty was busy last night, doing her damn hair. And her folks were 
out of town! Shit! His luck was awful.

	And on top of everything else, he couldn't find Jughead.

	Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews had been best friends since grade school. 
They'd been through good times and bad, always there for each other. But now, 
Jughead was missing. No one had seen him since yesterday morning. His folks were 
frantic. This just wasn't like Jug.

 	Archie had spent the whole of yesterday (once it became apparent he wasn't 
getting any) looking for his friend. Despite his best efforts, Jughead was 
nowhere to be found. The last anyone had seen of him was when Gaston had sent 
him up to see Ronnie. But Ron said he never got there. She hadn't seen him. And 
she didn't seem to really care. God, she could be a bitch at times, he thought.

	Today, he was at it again. He'd been up since six, checking Jug's favorite 
eateries. No sign of him. And business was down 10%. Archie smiled. If Jug 
didn't turn up soon, the Riverdale fast food industry was going to experience a 
recession.

 	He checked one last place, Harry's Hideout, a dirty little place across 
town where Jug occasionally went for potato pancakes. No luck. With head down 
and hands in pocket, Archie trudged back towards Pop Tate's Chocklit Shop. If 
Jug showed up anywhere, it'd be there.

	As he crossed Oak Street, he turned and looked south out of habit. Four 
houses down was Betty Cooper's house. Archie paused, thinking about Betty, her 
long, golden ponytail flipping through the air as she rode his cock. He began to 
get hard, just thinking about it. He turned and looked north towards the 
Chocklit Shop, then south to Betty's. He shrugged and headed south.

	Cutting across the grass, he poked his head into the Cooper's garage. 
Empty. Her folks weren't back yet. He smiled. His chances began to look better. 
He bounded up the kitchen steps and drew back his hand to knock. He stopped. 
From inside, he heard a man's voice. Then giggling.

	"Huh?" thought Archie, "I thought her folks weren't back. Maybe they got 
back, then Mrs. Cooper had to go somewhere with the car. Damn!" He felt the need 
for a cold shower. Taking a deep breath, he began to recite the multiplication 
tables to himself. He hadn't been much of a boner and it only took through the 
4's for it to wither away. He knocked on the door.

	Suddenly the laughter stopped, followed by the sounds of rushing around. 
After a few moments, Betty's sleep-tousled head appeared in the door. Holding 
her light cotton robe closed to the neck, she looked out. Spying Archie, she 
smiled and released her hand, allowing the robe to dangle invitingly open. She 
unlocked the door and said, "Well, hi, early bird. What are you doing out of bed 
at this time of day?"

	"Looking for Jug," Archie said, looking around. Betty looked at him 
questioningly. He gestured towards the living room, "I thought your dad was 
here," he said.

	"No," she said, blushing ever so slightly, "Just me. Just little ol' 
Betty."

	"I was sure I heard a man talking..." He began.

	"Television," she said immediately. "Television. I was watching 
television. LOUD television."

	"Oh," he said, slightly confused.

	Betty, still looking slightly embarrassed, asked, "Hey, you want some 
coffee? Or some toast?"

	"Nah," he said, remembering now why he had dropped by. He moved close to 
her. Slipping his arms around her perfectly proportioned frame, he said, "I just 
thought, since your folks weren't back yet..." He let his hands slide to her 
rear, confirming his suspicion that she was naked underneath.

	She felt him grow hard inside his jeans and pressed herself to him. She 
kissed him hard, their tongues intertwining. Reaching down, she unzipped his fly 
with practiced ease. As she pulled him free, he slipped the tie on her robe and 
she swiftly wrapped her legs hard around his waist. Easing herself onto him, she 
began to moan.

	As he thrust hard upward, she began to ride with wild abandon no one would 
believe her capable of. "No one but Archie," she thought, thrusting harder and 
faster, "And Jughead. Sweet, sweet Juggie. And Reggie. And..."

	Her mind began to lose count, as she squirmed in passion, a high, throaty 
moan escaping her lips. And as she began to cry out with pleasure, Smithers 
quietly slipped out the front door and walked down the street.

	"Remarkable girl," he thought. "Only awake 45 minutes and already having 
her second fuck of the day." He sighed. He was getting too old for this.

	As he walked down the sidewalk, briskly twirling his umbrella, he saw Mr. 
and Mrs. Cooper drive by. "My," he thought to himself, "This should be good."

	He turned to watch.

	Two minutes later, he saw a white-faced Archie Andrews shoot out the very 
door he had used to exit the Cooper home not ten minutes before. The boy ran 
along, attempting to both tuck in his shirt and zip up his jeans. Had Smithers 
not called out, he would more than likely been bowled over by the young 
Lothario.

	"Master Archie," he called, no trace of knowledge showing on his impassive 
face.

	"Smithers!" He cried, barely stopping short of the butler. "What...what 
are you doing here?" he asked, still trying to zip his jeans.

	"Stop!" said Smithers, in a commanding voice. Archie froze in guilt. 
Looking more kindly, Smithers said, "Unzip them all the way, then slowly use 
BOTH hands to pull them to the top."

	Following Smithers' orders, Archie soon managed to right himself. Then, 
sheepishly, he asked, "Uh... Smithers... are you, uh... you know... just out for 
a walk?"

	Deciding he had had enough fun, and not wishing to explain exactly why he 
WAS there, Smithers nodded. "Exactly. I was taking my morning constitutional 
when I observed..." he paused, seeing the uncomfortable look in the boy's eye. 
Continuing, he said, "When I observed you coming down the sidewalk towards me in 
some distress."

	Archie breathed a sigh of relief. Then, his narrow escape and humiliation 
behind him, he remembered exactly what had started all this. "Smithers," he 
asked, "Have you seen Jughead? Today or yesterday? He seems to have vanished."

	Smithers paused, thinking back. "No, Master Archie, I haven't seen Master 
Jughead in days. Of course, he usually enters via the kitchen."

	"Okay. Thanks, anyway." He waved and hurried towards the Chocklit Shop as 
Smithers turned and, humming "Thank Heaven for Little Girls", headed home.

	By midday, Archie had to admit that his best friend had vanished. Jughead 
was nowhere to be found. Archie had asked everyone if they'd seen Jug. 
Unfortunately, as word spread, more and more kids became award of Jughead's 
disappearance and Archie found HIMSELF being asked if he'd seen Jug.

	Betty, who'd joined him at the Chocklit Shop shortly after her parents had 
returned, sat across the booth from Archie. Beside him sat Dilton Doily, 
Riverdale's resident genius. Across from them, beside Betty, sat Big Moose, 
varsity fullback. Dilton was outlining a plan to feed all relevant facts into 
his computer and have it compute the most likely place for Jughead to be. Moose 
held a stack of "missing" flyers to nail up around town. The Chocklit Shop had 
in short order become a beehive of activity dedicated to finding Jughead Jones.

	Archie glanced around, seeing many familiar faces. It seemed as if all of 
Riverdale were in on the hunt. All, he noted, but two. Reggie Mantle and 
Veronica Lodge were conspicuously absent. Archie felt the blood rush to his 
head. He was sure they were together. This really pissed him off. Jughead 
missing, who-knows-where, and they're off banging their brains out!

	Realizing Dilton had stopped talking and was waiting for an answer, Archie 
turned his attention to his friends again. "Uh... yeah, Dilt. That sounds great. 
Why don't you get right on that. I'm uh, I'm gonna work on something on my own." 
He slipped out of the booth and headed out the door.

	Shrugging, Betty followed. Halfway down the sidewalk, she caught up to 
him.

	"So," she said, "Whatcha doin'?"

	"Nothing."

	"Uh huh."

	They walked along in silence for a while.

	"You know, Arch, I couldn't help noticing your 'nothing' leads straight to 
Veronica's house."

	"Yeah. So?"

	"So...you expect Juggie to be THERE?"

	Archie stopped, momentarily confused. He had been so jealous he had 
forgotten all about Jughead. "Some friend," he thought.

	"Uh...well," he began," No, I don't expect him to BE there. But I do 
expect to find out why Ronnie's not helping look for him."

	"Um...that's probably not a good idea," Betty began.

	"Why?" Archie yelled, turning to her. "Is it because she's with Reggie? Is 
that it? Are you covering for her? Huh? Are you, SLUT?"

	Betty calmly reached up and slapped Archie across the cheek. She hit him 
with such force that he spun around and fell into the grass. Betty squatted 
beside him. "Excuse me," she said, digging one finger into her ear, "I don't 
think I heard you correctly. What was that?"

	"Why," Archie moaned, "exactly, would that be a bad idea, Betty, dear?"

	She sat down beside him and cradled his head in her lap. "Because, 
Archiekins, Veronica was... acting rather odd yesterday."

	"What'cha mean?" he said, still slightly dazed.

	"Um..."she screwed up her face and said, "Kinda like she wasn't herself. 
Actually..." he voice trailed off.

	Archie looked up, seeing a far-away look in her eyes. "Bets?" he asked.

	"You know," she said, wonderingly, "Ronnie was acting a lot like JUGGIE. 
At least at first. Then she straightened up and became her old, bitchy self."

	"Juggie?" Archie repeated.

	"Yeah," said Betty, helping him to his feet. "Wonder if it means 
anything?"

	"Let's go see," he said, starting off.

	And this time, there wasn't a thought of Reggie in his head.

	Veronica Lodge sat cross-legged on her bed. She stared down at the items 
resting on her silken sheets. A comb, some change, a pocketknife, nail clippers, 
a pack of gum with two sticks left (which was hers, anyway, she thought as she 
tossed it to the nightstand), a billfold, and a gray felt, crown-shaped hat. The 
mortal remains of Jughead Jones.

	Ronnie felt odd looking through them. Even though she knew they were hers. 
Had been hers. When she was Jughead. Still, she was Veronica now. And going 
through these things seemed strange. But she had to get rid of them.

	Everyone in town was even now hunting for the "missing" Jughead. She 
giggled. Everyone was looking for Jughead, who was right here, and no one was 
looking for Veronica who was who-knows-where. This didn't seem to bother her too 
much, either. Even though she knew that the real Veronica was missing, she felt 
like SHE was the real Veronica. And she was right here. So how could Veronica 
REALLY be missing?

	But Jughead was. There was no way around that. What was she going to do? 
She couldn't tell anyone what had really happened. They'd think she was crazy. 
And if they BELIEVED her, they'd make her stop being Veronica. They'd take her 
away to that dreary little shack of his and make her be Jughead again. She 
started to cry.

	"No!" she whispered sharply. "No! I'll be damned if I'll EVER be Jughead 
again! I'm Veronica. V-E-R-O-N-I-C-A! Veronica-fuckin'-Lodge! And Nobody's 
taking that away from me!" She smiled, and then hugged herself, enjoying the 
feel of the satin teddy she wore. Her fingers began to edge towards her crotch.

	"No." she said wistfully, "Not now. I've got things to do." She sighed and 
turned her attention back to the possessions on the bed.

	She picked up the hat, holding it like a dead mouse. She dropped it into 
her wastecan. The nail clippers, comb, and pocketknife followed. She barely felt 
a twinge as she tossed away the knife, which had been his father's, 
grandfather's and great-grandfather's. She just thought it looked really tacky 
now.

	She swept the change into her hand and tossed it away. She hated coins. 
Disgusting little things. Not like REAL money. If you actually NEEDED coins, you 
were just poor. She opened the wallet. Fifteen dollars, some I.O.U.'s, discount 
cards at various restaurants...God, she'd been a pig! Library cards, school ID, 
pictures...She stopped. She lifted the photos out and looked at them.

	The first was with Archie. The two of them, arms around each other at 
summer camp, holding up a snake they'd killed. "Ugh," she shivered, "How'd I 
ever manage to get so close to a snake?"

	There was several of Big Ethel. She was a tall, gangly girl with an 
overbite. When she was Jughead, she'd always found Ethel cute. She knew from 
experience Ethel was good in the sack. "No Betty Cooper," she mused, "But then, 
who is?"

	Suddenly, she lifted her chin defiantly and said, "I am, damn it! I'M 
fuckin' better than Betty Cooper! Shit, I wish I was here to fuck! I'd show him. 
I can out fuck Little Tits Cooper any fuckin' day of the week! I can..." she 
stopped, realizing she was, in fact, ranting about showing herself how good a 
fuck she was. She shook her head. "Too fuckin' crazy for me," she mumbled.

	Returning to the photos, she tore the Ethel's in half, then lifted out one 
of Jellybean. Jughead's little sister. She was only two, but she loved Jug so 
much. He was "big brudder", always able to fix things. Ronnie smiled. Of course, 
Jellybean wasn't her real name. Her real name was...was... Ronnie seemed 
confused. She thought hard, contorting her face with effort. Her name 
was...was...

	She didn't know.

	She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember her own little sister's name. 
She felt sick.

	Then, she felt angry. "So what!" she thought. "So what if I can't remember 
the little brat's birthday? It's not like I really care! She's just some tacky 
little child in... in some... some tacky ... little... house..." She buried her 
face in her hands and sobbed.

	After a long while, she stopped. Then, sniffling, she walked into the 
bathroom and began to apply cold compresses to her eyes. She couldn't allow 
Riverdale's number one heiress to have puffy eyes.

	When she'd finished, she walked back into the bedroom, gathered all of 
Jughead's belongings and plopped them into the wastecan. Dusting her hands, she 
turned to select her wardrobe for the day.

	She paused. Looking back, she quickly snatched the photograph of Jellybean 
out of the trash and slipped it into the drawer of her nightstand. She smiled.

	Choosing her outfit for the day was both harder and easier than she 
expected. Her Jughead personality had expected a quicker time of it, while her 
Veronica side felt pleased that she selected her ensemble in only 45 minutes.

	Wiggling into a pair of jeans so tight it was apparent that she was 
wearing thong panties, she then slipped into a pair of 3-inch pumps and a 
gorgeous cream-colored blouse. She was just applying the final touches to her 
make-up when she heard a knock at the bedroom door. She turned, seeing Archie 
and Betty looking at her curiously.

	"Well," thought Ron, "He's got NERVE. Bringing that little tramp here with 
him." At the same time, she was horrified to be reacting to her best buddy that 
way. "This is the guy I've hung out with all my life," she thought, "How the 
hell can I be thinking of screwing him?"

	Yet she did think of it. And seemed strangely unmoved by the prospect. 
"Hmmm..." she mused, "Arch always told me he was quite the stud, but... I just 
don't feel it. Maybe it's 'cause I'm not really Ronnie. Let's see... Lemme think 
of Reggie. What does that... Oh boy! I'm getting wet down there. Wow! Reg IS a 
stud. I wonder what he's doing? Mmmm..." She closed her eyes.

	"Uh, Ron?" Betty asked.

	"Damn! That bottled-blonde bitch ALWAYS interrupts my fun!" she thought. 
"Yes, Betty?" she said.

	"Um...we were wondering...if you...that is, did you know...ah..."

	"Oh, for..." Archie said, "What she's trying to say, Ronnie, is 'Do you 
know anything about what's happened to Jug?'"

	"Why, Archiekins," Ronnie purred, "Whatever do you mean?"

	"Uh..." began Archie, looking flustered, "Well, Betty said you were acting 
strange yesterday... kinda like Jughead, and I... well..."

	"Really, Betty, "Ronnie said, pirouetting, "Do I look like Jughead to 
you?"

	"Look, Ron, you and I both know you were pretty fucked up yesterday."

	"I know no such thing," Ronnie said, tossing her hair.

	"You were eating like a FUCKIN' PIG!" Betty yelled, moving nose to nose 
with Ronnie.

	"Watch your language, SLUT!" said Ronnie icily.

	"Hoo boy," thought Archie, getting out of the way and sitting down on the 
bed.

	"Don't call me slut, you bitch!" roared Betty.

	"I'll call you anything I want, you little tramp!"

	Nervously, Archie glanced around. He reached for the gum on the 
nightstand. Sticking one piece into his shirt pocket, he slid the other stick 
into his mouth and tossed the wadded wrapper towards the wastecan. It bounced 
off and he bent to retrieve it. As his eyes swept over the contents of the can, 
they grew large in their sockets.

	"Holy shit." he whispered.

	Both girls stopped at the sound of his strangled whisper. They turned and 
stared at his white face. Betty tilted her head in a questioning manner. 
Silently, he reached into the wastecan and withdrew Jughead's billfold and 
trademark hat.

	Stunned, they both stared at Veronica.

	"I can explain," Veronica wailed.

	Seated on her bed, tears flowing, she looked more miserable than it seemed 
possible for a person to be.

	Archie and Betty stood on either side of her, arms folded.

	Ronnie looked from one to the other. "It's not what you think," she 
sobbed. "I didn't...I didn't..."

	"Didn't what, Ronnie?" Betty asked accusingly, "Didn't do away with 
Jughead?"

	"Do away with...?" Ronnie seemed confused.

	"It's no secret that you hated him, Ron. Everybody knew it."

	"Betty! How could you think... I would never... Archiekins, say 
something!"

	"Ron, I... I don't know what to think."

	"Think I didn't DO anything," Ron implored.

	"I--I'd like to," he began, "But this..." he held up the wallet, "here? 
I...I don't know what it means."

	"I know what it means," snapped Betty.

	The others turned to look at her.

	"It means she killed him," she spat. "That's right. Sweet little Veronica 
Lodge killed Jughead. And she probably thought she'd just buy her way out of any 
trouble, just like she always does."

	"So..." Archie said, chewing rapidly, "So you think when she was acting so 
strange yesterday..."

	"She'd probably just killed him. Looking back, I realize, she had all the 
symptoms of being in shock. Hell, she probably had the body hidden in some room 
in the house the whole time I was here. She...Oh my God." 

	"What?"

	"It... it's probably still there now. Jughead's dead body is probably in 
one of these rooms right now!"

	"It's NOT!" screamed Ronnie. "He's not dead! I didn't kill him!"

	"All right," said Betty, smugly, "Then what are these doing in your 
garbage?" She held out the billfold and hat.

	"Oh God!" thought Ronnie, "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God! I've gotta tell this 
right! I've gotta make them believe me! Otherwise, I'll go to jail for my own 
murder!"

	"Well?" asked Betty. "We're waiting?"

	Sniffling, Ronnie began, "It... it's like this... Jughead WAS here. 
Yesterday. I...I lied to you, Archie, when I said he never came up to see me."

	"Why, Ronnie?" he asked, intently. "Why did you lie to me?"

	"Because..." She took a deep breath, "Because I was fucking him."

	"WHAT?" screamed Betty.

	"I--I don't believe it," muttered Archie, "My girl... and my best 
friend...."

	"Hold on a minute, heartbreak boy," said Betty sarcastically. "I find this 
a little hard to believe. Veronica? And Jughead? Am I the only one thinking 
'What's wrong with this picture?'?"

	"It was...I didn't believe it at first, myself," continued Ronnie, "But it 
started last summer. One night, at the beach. You two had snuck off together and 
Reggie had passed out from the beer. It was just Juggie and me. We talked. He 
was nice. And... I was really drunk. We did it right there, on the beach. And I 
loved it!"

	"Damn it, Ronnie, "Archie interjected, "Why can't I ever TRUST you?"

	"Uh, Arch..." whispered Betty, "remember where WE were while this was 
happening?"

	"Oh." he said. Then, blushing, he absently blew a bubble.

	This was easy. What she'd told so far was true. It had really happened. 
She remembered it. At least her JUGHEAD side remembered it. She now realized 
that Veronica had been so drunk, she had no memory of what had happened. She 
felt a little better. "I always thought she was too ashamed to ever mention it," 
she thought. "I guess it's better that she just didn't remember it. I think."

	Veronica continued, warming to her story, "Shortly after that, we began 
seeing each other. We quickly found out that we still couldn't stand each other. 
But the SEX! God, the sex was fantastic! Juggie was hung like a horse and he 
really knew what I liked!"

	"Okay," snapped Archie, "Now I KNOW you're making this up. Jug? Well-hung? 
Man, what a load of shit, right Betty?"

	"Shut up, Arch," Betty muttered.

	"Bets?" he asked.

	"Oh," said Ronnie, recovering some of her composure, "Hasn't she ever told 
you? She's been banging Juggie since seventh grade."

	"Eighth, and you know it!" shouted Betty defiantly. "And it's not as if 
I've ever screwed REGGIE while Archie was downstairs waiting on me."

	"Bitch! You said you'd never tell!"

	"Ron? Is this true?" asked a crestfallen Archie.

	Veronica blushed a bright crimson. While she wasn't the Veronica who had 
done these things, she remembered them clearly. And knew they were true. 
"Archiekins," she began, "It doesn't matter..."

	"Shit!" he yelled, pulling away from her. "Shit, Ron! I can't trust you at 
all, can I?"

	"Archiekins," she said, "I'm still your girl. You know that."

	"Well, damn it, Veronica, I wish you'd ACT like it!" He yelled.

	And with that, Veronica's whole outlook changed. Suddenly, Reggie didn't 
seem interesting at all. The thought of his 10-inch rod did nothing for her. 
Neither did Moose, or Chuck, or Harvey. Nor did Bingo or Smithers or Mr. 
Weatherbee. None of them did anything. But just to look at Archiekins, she began 
to get weak in the knees. A smile from him and she was wet in an instant. And 
the thought of his cute little cock--Oh! She almost had an orgasm from the very 
thought!

	God, how had she ever thought him uninteresting? He was wonderful! 
Fascinating! And he was hers! She was his! She was Archie's girl! It sounded so 
wonderful; she decided to get it tattooed on her.

	She glared at Betty with hate. What was she doing with HER Archie? The 
slut! Archie was her's. If Betty ever tried anything... well, then she'd see if 
Ronnie really WAS capable of murder!

	And strangely, none of this disturbed the Jughead side of her personality. 
Arch had always been his best friend. Now, they're just going to be closer.

	"Archiekins?" she said in a trembling voice, "I--I love you."

	Archie and Betty both stared at Ronnie in disbelief. Veronica had never 
told any man she loved him.

	"You--you mean it?" he asked.

	"Yes," she smiled, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Oh God, YES!"

	She flung her arms around him and kissed him hard on the lips. Finally, he 
had to tear himself away, just so he could breathe.

	"That's very touching, Ronnie," said Betty. "However, as I recall, just 
before this profession of love, you were telling us about how you were secretly 
fucking Jughead behind Archie's back?"

	"Oh, Betty," stared Veronica in horror, "Don't say it that way! It's 
disgusting! I--I can't even think about that anymore. Archie's the man I love."

	"Sure," said Betty, rolling her eyes. "So...what happened to Juggie?"

	"Oh." Veronica seemed surprised, as if Juggie was the farthest thing from 
her mind. Gazing lovingly at Archie, she continued, "We... we kept seeing each 
other, strictly for the sex, right up through yesterday. He--he 'dropped by' and 
we...well, you know..."

	"Yes," smiled Betty, "I DO."

	"Then," Ronnie resumed, "He left. And after he had gone, I found that 
stuff on the floor, under the bed. I guess it fell out of his pants."

	"So why was it in the garbage?" asked Betty.

	"I--I knew everybody was looking for Jughead. I thought that if anyone 
found that stuff here, they'd think--what YOU thought."

	"And to prove your innocence, you'd have to tell them what you told us," 
said Archie quietly.

	"Yes," sniffed Ronnie. "Oh, Archiekins, please don't make me tell everyone 
the whole sordid thing."

	"Betty?" he asked, looking over at her.

	"Ahh, what the hell," said Betty, "I never REALLY thought she killed him."

	"Besides, I could never let it get out that I'VE had sex with Jughead. I'm 
a GOOD girl," she thought with a smug expression.

	"Okay, now that that's settled," Archie said, "Let's all get out there and 
try to find Jughead!"

	"Okay!," said Betty.

	"Whatever you say, Archiekins," Veronica purred, clinging to his arm.

	And with that, Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews began an entirely new 
phase of their life-long friendship.

Part 5: REGGIE

	The three of them left the Lodge mansion and headed towards the Chocklit 
Shop. Veronica walked in the middle, clinging to Archie fiercely, while at the 
same time keeping Betty well away from her man. Ronnie knew you couldn't trust 
the little blonde bitch. Betty would do anything to get her hands on Archie. 
Poor, desperate little thing. She hugged her Archiekins tighter.

	As they neared the center of town, flyers began to catch their eyes. From 
light poles, from shop windows, from phone booths, the smiling face of Jughead 
Jones stared back at them, beneath the word "Missing". Moose had been busy.

	"That should help," Archie said.

	"I hope so," said Betty.

	"Don't worry, Archiekins," said Ronnie, looking slightly sad, "I'm sure 
that, wherever Juggie is, he's still your friend, and always will be."

	Archie stared at her curiously, but said nothing.

	Betty rolled her eyes. Ron was acting more spacey than usual today. They 
moved on the Chocklit Shop and took a booth near the door. Betty ordered three 
sodas and they sipped in silence, Archie too worried about his friend to talk, 
Ronnie too much in love to speak, and Betty, disgusted with the whole thing.

	Just as Betty was draining the last of her strawberry float, Reggie Mantle 
entered, acting, as usual, as if this were his fan club headquarters.

	"Hiya, carrot top," he grinned, plopping down beside Betty. "Lookin' good, 
Bets," he said, squeezing her thigh. She blushed, and then looked away.

	"Ron," he said, giving her his brightest smile, "What are you doing with 
these losers? Why don't you join me at the country club? We could take my new 
BMW?"

	Ron looked at him, no interest showing on her face. Even the mention of 
the BMW had done nothing for her. Nothing could compete with her Archiekins. 
"No, thanks, Reggie," she said. "I'd rather stay right here." She cuddled closer 
to Archie, her hand slipping between his legs, finding the erect rod she 
expected.

	Reggie looked slightly confused, but immediately recovered. "Okay," he 
continued, "How about these?" He whipped out a pair of tickets from his back 
pocket. "Smashing Pumpkin tickets! 3rd row, center!"

	Betty's eyes bulged. Even Archie raised his eyebrows. These were 
impossible to get. And Veronica Lodge LOVED Smashing Pumpkins. They all turned 
to look at her.

	She thought for a moment. She knew she loved Smashing Pumpkins. She had 
all their discs, went to all their concerts. She was wild about them. The very 
mention of their name was equal to a two-cup caffeine buzz to her. Yet, when she 
thought about going without Archiekins... She just didn't WANT to. Not without 
her Archie.

	"Thanks," she smiled, "But I think I'll just stay home with my 
Archiekins." She grinned wickedly at Archie and ran her hand quickly up and down 
his shaft.

	Reggie looked stunned. The tickets dropped from his limp hand onto the 
table. Betty swooped them up, and then ground her hip against Reggie's thigh. 
"How 'bout me?" she said, blue eyes dancing.

	"Uh... yeah, okay," Reggie muttered.

	Irked at all this disinterest, Betty reached down and began stroking 
Reggie's crotch. His eyes turned from Ron and began to show definite interest in 
the little blonde before him. "Actually," he continued, "that sounds like a 
GREAT idea. I think we'll have a great time."

	"I like having a great time," Betty whispered huskily. "I really like 
having a great BIG time. How 'bout it. Reg? Can you show me a great BIG ol' 
time? Hmmm?"

	"Oh, yeah," he gasped, breathing hard. "Big, BIG time. Really big." 

	Ronnie giggled and Reggie flushed despite himself. Betty removed her hand 
and his concentration seemed to improve. He turned his attention to Archie in an 
attempt to reduce the swelling in his pants.

	"So, Arch," he began, gesturing at the flyers outside the window, "What's 
happening with the 'Great Garbage Disposal Hunt'?"

	"No luck so far," Archie said. "It's like he just vanished between one 
step and the next."

	"Too bad," shrugged Reg, reaching over and swiping the last stick of gum 
from Archie's pocket.

	"Hey," said Arch, "Ever heard of asking?"

	"Sure," smirked Reggie, chewing loudly.

	"You shithead," said Archie, though without much enthusiasm. With his pal 
missing, even an argument with Reggie seemed to lose its luster.

	Reggie sensed this and, in what for him passed for friendship, tried to 
rile Arch up, hoping that a good fight might pick up his spirits. "Oh, well," he 
said, "it's not like it's anybody IMPORTANT. Unless you own a restaurant."

	"What?" said Archie, turning red.

	"The person I feel sorry for is poor ol' Pop Tate," Reggie continued, 
"He's gonna lose a lot of business with Needlenose gone. Poor guy."

	"Reggie Mantle, you are an absolute ASSHOLE," Archie said, rising to his 
feet. "My pal, the best friend anybody ever had, is missing and you don't even 
CARE! Well, I'll MAKE you care." He reached across the table and grabbed Reggie 
by the shirt.

	Reggie Mantle was an interesting individual. He seemed blessed, or perhaps 
cursed, with the inability to know when to quit. In athletics, this ability had 
enabled him to lead the Riverdale Panthers to bowl games three years straight. 
In dating, this had resulted in a black book that was the envy of the entire 
senior class and a thing of legend to the underclassmen. In his part time job, 
this had meant quick promotion.

	But here... Here, it just meant a black eye. Yet, he said it anyway. He 
had to. It was all part of being Reggie. He grinned and said in a mocking, 
singsong voice, "Jughead, Jughead, Jughead... I wish nobody'd ever even HEARD of 
Jughead!"

	And with than, all the flyers vanished.

	All the volunteers disappeared.

	Veronica's wastecan emptied.

	Dilton Doily found himself trying to remember what he had started to enter 
into his computer.

	At the Jones' home, Jughead's room transformed into a sewing room, where 
Mrs. Jones sat, making a new blanket for her only child, two year-old Jellybean.

	Everyone's mind emptied of the slightest memory of Jughead Jones.

	Reggie forgot him.

	Betty forgot him.

	His parents forgot him.

	Jellybean forgot him.

	Pop Tate forgot him.

	Archie Andrews forgot him.

	And Veronica Lodge?

	She forgot him most of all.

	Then Archie Andrews punched Reggie Mantle in the jaw.

	"Ow!" Reggie yelped.

	"That'll teach you to try and make fun of my girl," Archie said angrily.

	"It's okay," cooed Ronnie, rubbing against him. "I'm sure Reggie didn't 
mean it. DID you, Reginald?"

	"No," replied Reggie holding his jaw.

	"So take it back," demanded Archie.

	"All right, all right," he said, "I take it back. I don't wish we'd never 
heard of Veronica Lodge."

	"All right," Archie said, sitting down.

	"Now," put in Betty, "if you two can keep your testosterone under control, 
Ron and I want to do some shopping. You wanna come?"

	"Sure," said Archie.

	"I guess," said Reggie, still holding his jaw.

	With that, they all piled into Archie's jalopy and headed off towards the 
Riverdale Mall.

EPILOGUE:

	The four friends wandered through the mall, stopping here and there. 
Reggie, as always, insisted in checking out Mirror World, and Archie picked up 
some comics at Cosmic Comix. Betty insisted on looking at a cute sunsuit she'd 
seen last Saturday and, to Veronica's annoyance, led them towards the tacky 
section. As they waited for her to try on the outfit, something caught 
Veronica's eye. She walked across the mall towards the dirty little shop where 
she'd sworn she'd seen the Chippendale on Saturday.

	She stood, head turned to the side, looking in the window. The others 
joined her, Betty laden with a small sack holding the pink and green sunsuit. 
"What's up, Ron?" she asked, "See some more gum?"

	Ignoring her friend's jibe, Ronnie merely continued staring at the strange 
object in the window. It was a gray felt hat, shaped like a crown.

	"Man," said Reggie, " is that ever ugly!"

	"Yeah," agree Archie, " like something out of the depression."

	"Tacky with a capital Tack!" agreed Betty. She turned to look at her 
friend. "Ron?" she asked.

	Veronica was quiet a long time, and then said, "I like it."

	As her friends watched in amazement, Veronica slipped inside the little 
shop and handed the old man inside a twenty. He reached into the display and 
handed it to her with a smile. She tried it on and beamed.

	"It was made for you, my dear," smiled the old man.

	She smiled back, and then left the shop. Then, wearing the hat, with which 
she was soon to become inseparable, she linked arms with her friends and headed 
towards the doors, grinning broadly.

	The old man watched them go, chuckling to himself.

The End