“Lead the way, chuckles!” said 'Baylee-Anne,' slapping Igor on the rump.
The hunchbacked, one-eyed, pasty skinned lab assistant glared angrily at the teenage boy who thought he was an adult redneck woman. But Igor said nothing, merely gesturing for 'Baylee-Anne' to follow him down a hallway and then up a flight of stairs to a corridor that led to the professor's guest quarters. Igor motioned for 'Baylee-Anne' to enter a particular room, then grunted something incoherent and shuffled back down to the laboratory.
'Baylee-Anne' surveyed the room. A large bed sat along one side of the wall, just opposite a big screen TV that was currently playing some country music videos. A small, dorm-sized fridge was next to the TV and had a bag of pork rinds, a six-pack of cheap beer, and a carton of cigarettes sitting atop it. 'Baylee-Anne' entered the room and started rummaging around through the closet. She found a half-dozen trampish, skanky looking outfits.
“Guess ah may as well make mahself at home, ah reckon!”
Again, 'Baylee-Anne' found it odd that she was wearing boy's clothing. As she stripped off Alan's t-shirt, shoes and socks, jeans, and underwear she remarked to herself how strange it was that she'd ever agreed to wear the clothes of some strange teenage boy, even if she had gotten drenched in the rain.
“There's still sumthin' weird bout this whole place,” she muttered.
Now naked, she started selecting clothes from her new wardrobe to wear. She pulled on a pair of white, thong panties with the confederate flag plastered across the seat.
“Dayumn, these is tight!” she remarked, strangely oblivious to the big bulge in 'her' own crotch. “Gotta get me back on Jenny Craig one a these days.”
Next, she pulled on a plain, pink, cotton bra across her utterly flat chest. Over that, she pulled on a lacy, white tank top with a plunging neck line. Next, she squeezed into a pair of ridiculously short, tight, cut-off 'Daisy Duke' jean shorts. Finally, she pulled on a pair of dusty pink, high-heeled cowboy boots.
Finally, she walked over to a dresser with a mirror above it. On the dresser was a wide array of cheap, discount store cosmetics. 'Baylee-Anne' smeared shiny, blue-green eyeshadow on her eyelids, coated her lashes with a disgustingly thick layer of mascara, and finally smothered her lips with sparkly pink lip-gloss.
“Much better,” she mumbled, cracking open a can of the still-warm beer that had been sitting above the fridge. “Ah reckon ah should stick the rest o' this in the fridge. First ah oughta have me a smoke.”
Opening the carton of cigarettes, she pulled out a pack, opened that, found a lighter, and was quickly enjoying her smoke and beer.
“Shit!” she said, coughing a bit. “Ah been smoking since ah was a little girl. How come ah'm coughing so bad now? Dayum, that beer is hittin' me harder 'n it normally does too. Ah might not be able to finish the whole six pack in one sittin' tonight!”