Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show


A/N: Yay! So many reviews! [Thank you, Guest and Wonderful Midnight the Wonderful.] I had fun writing the scene with the psychoanalyst - there'll be more of him later. This story is something I though nobody would reading, which is somewhat funny. Now I keep worrying that it will become hated if I'm not careful...

Also, sorry for Janet's cursing. It just seemed to fit.


When they got back to Brad's house, neither really knew what to do. To him it seemed best to start planning what they'd do next. Planning was an important part of being a responsible adult. That's what he was, despite the recent insanity. Brad Majors was a responsible young man who would soon enough be happily married to an attractive young blonde – who was far cleverer than such a description implies – named Janet Weiss. That was what was supposed to happen. Indeed, that was what would happen… if things went his way.

"We need to get married soon. You're parents will be happy, my parents will be happy, and I'll have an easier time looking after you. Not to mention that it's all to possible that you're carrying some sort of half-alien child and I'm a decent enough person to not want you ending up an unwed mother. Especially the mother of some kind of space-mutant that you'll need help caring for. And women like planning weddings… don't they?"

"I don't like planning weddings – at least right now. Anyway, how do you know I even want to be married?" was Janet's unhappy reply.

Brad sighed. "I don't know if you want to be married. I just assumed so, since you cheerfully accepting my proposal and you're still wearing the ring."

There was that look again. The fiery look of rebellion in Janet's usually-innocent brown eyes. Brad didn't like it – as usual.

"Well, my darling, I hadn't experienced certain things when I put on that ring. To say it like a very adventurous sailor might… I hadn't been fucked by both a prissy drag queen and a manly blond Steve Reeves look-a-like yet. The latter was better in some ways, though the former still felt pretty good. Now I plan to find other men who look vaguely like Steve Reeves so I can pretend I'm sleeping with Hercules… as in the character played by Reeves in those Italian-made movies of the same name. Ha! You, my friend, are not that sort of guy. Nor will you ever be, even with the help of Charles Atlas!"

At such a bold (not to mention slightly disturbing) statement, Brad winced. He did not like this new form of Janet. Nor did he like to visualize the many shocking activities Janet might engage in with these men she apparently now fantasized about. The mention of Frank and his creation also bothered poor Brad.

She continued: "I know want to be something besides a housewife. That night at the castle gave me a taste of a wild life. Before I'm tied down and condemned to have children and only sleep with one person I want some fun. Sex, drugs, and rock n' roll; as the saying goes!"

To put it lightly, Brad was not pleased. This sweet young lady whose surname meant 'white' – as in the color worn by innocent girls and virgin brides – was behaving in a way he didn't see as ladylike. Again, he mentally questioned his plan to marry this quickly-transforming entity. He feared she'd soon be one of those crazed liberal feminists that you heard terrible stories about in the paper.

While Brad was lost in thought Janet had begun singing her little song again. Soon enough he noticed. Though he didn't actually say anything. No, just stared at her thoughtfully.

It made him think of that production of Hamlet. When Ophelia went mad she spent all her time handing people flowers and singing suggestive folk songs. Was Janet trying to behave like the character? Brad half thought so. But there was no way she had meant to remind him of that scene

"Brad, darling? What's wrong?" she asked, startling him.

For a moment, she almost sounded like her old self. This made him a bit sad.

"Oh, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking," he reassured her.

She smiled slightly. "About what?"

"Nothing."

Neither spoke for a moment. After a while, Brad realized something:

"It's lunchtime and we haven't even eaten breakfast!"

So, he cooked something for the both of them. He'd long ago come to the conclusion that men do not cook. Cooking was for housewives. That meant he never bothered learning to make anything besides some sort of hardly edible sandwich. Since Janet was a guest – as opposed to a permanent resident – Brad decided it was polite to make lunch.

At least she didn't complain about the slightly stale bread or the somehow soggy lettuce. Though Brad himself hardly noticed it. Both of them were too lost in thought to pay attention to the food.

Brad kept thinking of how one strange night had changed everything. Yes, he still had the same job and friends and house. But now he saw some things differently. He still couldn't look his old teacher Dr. Everett Scott in the eye. And his fiancée Janet Weiss was broken – meaning both the fact that her mind had sort of snapped and, well, the result of what she'd gleefully done with that alien.

Hopefully Dr. Baker would be able to help Janet. That would be good, yes.

What Brad didn't realize was that maybe he too needed help. There were things he worried about, confusing memories of that night at the Frankenstein Place. He desperately wanted to forget all of it. Especially that crossdressing alien who was practically the personification of sexual liberation, or perhaps the physical manifestation of somebody's id. Though he was too busy worrying about poor Janet – who'd begun singing her song again, having finished eating her lunch – to pay attention to his own troubles.

"Janet?" he said, a bit nervously.

"Yes, Brad?" she replied.

"What will we do tomorrow? I need to go to work yet I don't think leaving you to your own devices is a good idea."

The very thought of all the mad things Janet might do if she had the chance terrified Brad. He could almost see her wandering around town in lingerie searching for someone who looked like Steve Reeves – or, just as likely, someone who looked Rocky Horror. This was not a pleasant thing to visualize. Especially since those sorts of people weren't found in Denton. No, she'd have to go somewhere strange and diverse like the city to find a guy who looked like that. So that meant she might travel all the way to New York in her underclothes.

Brad shuddered in horror.

At least Janet was oblivious to what he was thinking. She might indeed do such a thing if given the idea. That would be bad, to say the least.

Finally, Brad thought of an idea. "Why don't I send you to Scotty for the day?"

"Doesn't he have a job somewhere?"

"Now he works from home. He sends notes of some kind – he hasn't told anyone what – to an office in DC. I though you knew that."

"I must've forgotten," she replied with a shrug.

And so it was decided.

Only a few minutes later, Janet was busy unpacking her clothes while Brad was reading a book in the living room. It was Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley.

To his slight amusement, the story of the creature Victor created was oddly familiar in some small ways. This creation was meant to be physically attractive and stronger/larger than normal humans. Though it somehow ended up having sallow skin and strange eyes, so it wasn't what its creator wanted at all. That was where the stories Frank N. Furter and Frankenstein differed. Rocky Horror did turn out as nice looking as intended. Not that Brad cared, of course. He wasn't any good at judging the looks of fellow men, for he had no interest in them. Or so he told himself.


Please Review!