Atrocity by Hedwig: Ch 1 - Sugar Daddy
@dukexietyweek 2025 Day 2 - Musicals/Theater
Word Count: 3127 (Ao3)
Rating: T+
Characters: Virge, Remus, Janus, Roman, Remy
Warnings/Content: mtf!Virgil, genderfluid!Remus, sex mention, bickering
Vi and Remus are performing in Hedwig and the Angry Inch, and they have fun getting through rehearsal without getting their real feelings too mixed in
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The stage was bright and burning hot. Vi was dying in her layers and layers of costumes, wishing she didn't have to wear that stupid blonde wig, with its stupid backwards curls that looked like lungs attached to her head. It was the last tech rehearsal and she was ready for a long nap.
The band behind her relaxed as she delivered her monologue, again, pacing across the stage, from the old Pontiac Firebird on stage left, past the band and the house in the background, to the tower of amps, stage door, and vanity set on stage right.
She was waiting for her cue to strike, for her co-star to be a brat. Remus was good at doing that in real life, so he didn't have to try hard. He was already combing another blonde wig, as scripted.
She heard Remus singing softly and spun on her heels. He was wearing the wig with a dreamy look on his face. In any other situation, Vi would have taken some time to admire just how cute he was. But her pause in this case, was meant to be indignant disbelief.
5…4…3…2…1…
“Was machst du da verdammt noch mal!?” she shouted into the mic she was holding. Remus blushed and removed the wig, placing it back on the prop shelf, and wilting. Vi was always amazed at how well he could force himself to blush like that—unaware that he was not forcing it or embarrassed.
She turned her attention to the empty audience and sighed.
“I’m sorry you had to see that my darling gentleners,” she said, “When I met him, he said he wanted to be a model.”
She peeked over her shoulder and tilted her head up and down, as if assessing Remus' looks. Unfortunately, he was adorable and handsome in his brown wig and leather jacket. Vi had to pretend she was looking at the character, Yitzhak, and not her roommate.
She swiveled her head back to face the audience, adding a little sass to her movements and added:
“A foot model, maybe—Enough about him, let's get back to the—”
“Bitch,” Remus muttered into his mic.
Vi glanced around obnoxiously, making light of the insult.
“Yes? Did someone call my name? I thought I heard my—”
“Bitch!” Remus repeated himself.
Vi glared at him. Remus surreptitiously looked around, trying to find the source of the insult and feigning ignorance. He was bold enough to move away from his mic and search even further, as scripted.
And as scripted, Remus opened the stage door. Immediately the sound of a concert crowd erupted over the speakers, only for a familiar voice to speak over the noise.
“—I realized there was only one person who had ever really been there for me in my life. And that person was me,” it was Vi’s voice, specifically her pre-training voice, recorded specifically as her playing Tommy Gnosis. She actually hated it, which made her next move all the more genuine as she ran to the door.
“The accident was a cry for help. I was yelling ‘Help!’ to me—” the sound cut out as she slammed the door shut and leaned her back against it, flustered and panting.
Vi took a second to right herself and fix her hair before addressing the audience.
“Well, what about me? Without me he never would've swerved into that oncoming short bus and got all that attention! Let me just take a second here, against the advice of my lawyers, Jacoby, Meyers and Lee Bailey…”
As she continued her monologue, Vi was acutely aware of the imp watching her saunter about the stage. She was pretty sure Remus wasn't interested in Hedwig's tale of reconnecting with her ex who she made famous, his career failures without her, and a drugged up car crash. Maybe he finally realized who she was emulating with her performance—the raunchy, unapologetic, unfiltered weirdo he always was, no matter what gender.
“So you can imagine, when the story broke, Tommy's people offered me a small fortune to keep all this to myself. As if I'd accept their filthy lucre. As if selling the story of someone else's pain was my only means of support. As if I hadn't already launched my new fragrance: "Atrocity." By Hedwig.”
And then an image appeared on the screen in the background. It was a simple golden perfume bottle silhouette imposed on a circular sandy background. Underneath the bottle, “Atrocity” was written in an outline sans serif font, in pink and all caps, while “by Hedwig” was underneath that, written in golden, rounded font.
“It's a fragrance for a man or a woman. Or a freak,” she said and motioned to the screen like Vana White on Wheel of Fortune.
“I digress. One day in the late mid eighties...I was in my early late twenties. I had just been dismissed from university after delivering a brilliant lecture on the aggressive influence of German philosophy on rock and roll entitled: ‘You, Kant, Always Get What You Want.’ At 26, my academic career was over, I had never kissed a boy and I was still sleeping with mom. The search for my other half on this side of the Wall had proved futile. Might he be found on the other?”
As Vi moved to center stage, talking about the perils of hopping the Berlin Wall, Remus was inching to his mic again. Normally they'd have his next few lines recorded, but Remus insisted that he said them live.
“Such were the thoughts flooding my tiny head on the day that I was sunning myself in an old bomb crater I had discovered near the Wall. I am naked, face down, on a piece of broken church, inhaling a fragrant westerly breeze. The new McDonalds has just opened on the other side. My God, I deserve a break today. All I ever get is the unhappy meal. The sun is hot, but I feel a sudden chill. I look over my shoulder. A head-shaped shadow is resting on the pillow of my ass,” Vi said and turned to the side, sticking out her ass and wiggling it.
Remus wolf-whistled before he could stop himself. Vi had enough cake to handle at least two weddings and he was not immune. At the very least he could claim it was ad lib.
“Girl, I sure don't mean to annoy you,” Remus purred into his mic, in the deepest, scratchiest register he could manage, “My name is Corporal Luther Robinson.”
“I turn my body to face him,” Vi said, happy that her face was buried under stage makeup. She knew that whistle was not just as lib, having lived with Remus for too long. The little pirate was obsessed with booty. Rather than start the scene from the top, Vi decided to press on.
“‘My name is Hansel.’ Luther is silent for a moment as he stares at my little bishop in a turtleneck.”
“Hansel. Well. You must like candy,” Remus said in his Luther voice.
“‘I like Gummi Bärchen,’” Vi said before going on about how Luther gave Hansel gummy bears—ones that were bigger and sweeter than the ones she'd known. She commented on the strange but delicious flavor and then…
“...He pours me a handful, his eyes heavy with an unfamiliar desire. Could it be a desire to please? Me? I suddenly recognize the flavor in my mouth. It's the taste of power. Not bad,” she added, twirling her hair around her finger.
“Damn, Hansel, I can't believe you're not a girl, you're so fine. Why don't you take the whole bag?” Remus purred, absolutely loving the opportunity to even pretend to seduce Vi.
“He searches my face for news of his fate. His expression is echoed in scores of tiny faces pressing against clear plastic. Panting faces of every imaginable color, creed and non-Aryan origin fogging up the bag like the windows of a Polish bathhouse. It's only a shower. Absolute power,” Vi continued, pausing at the end to slap herself across the face. She knew that the phrasing was meant to imply the horrors power could bring, but she had several reasons to loathe it.
“I push Luther away and stumble naked through the ruins, back towards blander, less complicated confections, leaving in my wake a trail of rainbow carnage.”
She paused for a moment and glanced around the empty theater before continuing,
“Next day, Hansel follows the trail back...and lying on my slab are three Milky Ways, a roll of Necco Wafers, some Pop Rocks, and a Giant-Size Sugar Daddy named Luther.”
While she swooned, the image on the screen changed to a pair of stick figures in a compromising position on a red background. And then the band played the opening chords of “Deutschlandlied.”
As soon as the music hit the high note after 10 seconds, it faded into a much funkier, 70s rock tune. The back lights faded between purple, blue, and green. Remus had to fight back the urge to squeal—this was the main reason he begged Vi to audition.
The spotlight was on her as she leaned on the mic stand, still holding her mic. This was the one part of the role she knew she wouldn't mess up. Singing on stage was second nature to her, although she usually had a guitar to shield her.
“I've got a sweet tooth, for licorice drops and jelly rolls,” she sang before dipping into a sultry purr, “Hey Sugar Daddy, Hansel needs some sugar in his bowl.”
Remus was dying behind her, unable to quell his thirst without biting his hand. God, one woman could not be allowed to switch from petty bitch to alluring temptress with so much ease, not when everything she did had him swooning internally.
“I'll lay out fine china on the linen, and polish up the chrome, and if you got some sugar for me, Sugar Daddy, bring it home!” she continued, pelvic thrusting with the beat.
She snatched the mic from the stand, thinking, “what would Remus do?” This was a performance and under the rhythmically flashing lights she couldn't be Vi. She twisted to face stage left and rolled her head to the side to give the audience a sultry gaze.
“Black strap molasses,” she cooed and ran her free hand from her neck to her crotch, “You're my orange blossom honey bear!”
“Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy,” Remus sang with Roman and Remy, amazed that he hadn't fainted.
“Bring me Versace blue jeans—” Vi turned her back to the empty theater, “—black designer underwear!”
She smacked her own ass as the backing vocals repeated. She faced stage right and pressed her tongue into her cheek, taking a deep breath. The next few moves she would have to make needed to be perfect.
We'll dress up like the disco-dancing
Vi strutted across the stage with an extra bounce in her step, swinging her free arm and swaying her hips with all the confidence of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.
Jet set in Milan and Rome
She did a little spin when she reached the stack of amps and leapt onto a ladder hidden on the side of it.
“If you got some sugar for me,” she sang as she climbed to the top of the first amp, where a pole was waiting for her, “Sugar Daddy bring it home!”
Vi grabbed the pole with her free hand and hiked the opposite leg up, hooking her knee around it. She could not afford a mistake here.
Oh the thrill of control
She kicked off into a spin, pressing her thighs together around the pole.
Like a rush of rock n roll
It's the sweetest taste I've known
Remus was in awe watching her with a string of lights in his hands. Vi was so graceful, so beautiful, so strong. And then she got on her feet and pressed her torso against the pole, sensually arching back as her voice rang out over the speakers.
“Oh yeah,” she half-moaned before flinging herself around the pole in the opposite direction, “So come on, Sugar Daddy, bring it home!”
Vi jumped down from the amp, landing with the low bass note. She strutted to a spot marked with green tape and bobbed with the beat as Remus scrambled over and came up behind her. This was his deciding moment in this number.
Vi kept swaying and held the mic over her shoulder as Remus secured the string of lights around her waist. He still had to sing.
“When honey bees go shopping, it’s something to be seen,” Remus sang into the waiting mic.
“Sugar Daddy, Liquor Daddy,” Roman and Remy came in with the backing vocals.
“They swarm the wild flowers, and get nectar for the queen,” Remus sang and finished tying off the lit belt.
“Sugar Daddy, Liquor Daddy.”
Vi brought the mic back to her face and stepped away from Remus, sparing him from her next course of action.
“And every gift you bring me,” she sang and strode forward, swishing her hips sharply to make the string lights swing around her, “Gets me drippin’ like a honeycomb!”
Remus was back at his mic stand, trying not to lose his shit as Vi dropped her hips and squeezed her crotch.
“And if you got some sugar for me—” she jumped up again and stormed across the stage, “—Sugar Daddy bring it home!”
Vi had to keep channeling Remus, making a spectacle of herself on stage. She had to push her lungs to keep up with her fake swooning and fanning herself.
Oh the thrill of control
Like a Blitzkrieg on the roll
It's the sweetest taste I've known
So if you've got some sugar, Bring it home
Oh come on, Sugar Daddy, bring it home!
Remus wanted to ruin the whole performance and tackle Vi. He wanted nothing more than to smother her in kisses and worship the ground she walked on. If he could be her sugar daddy, he would throw away all his money in a heartbeat. He was too enamored, swooning as she switched to jumping in place, amping up the energy.
“Whiskey and French cigarettes! A motorbike with high- speed jets! A Waterpik, a Cuisinart! And a hypo-allergenic dog!” Vi practically shouted and made her way to the car.
“Oh, I want all the luxuries of the modern age, and every item on every page in the Lillian Vernon catalogue!” she sang and fell back onto the hood of the car as the music shifted and the lights turned pink.
Vi rolled on her stomach and faced Remus. This was his moment. The perfect chance to blur the line between acting and taking action.
“Oh baby,” he purred in his Luther voice and stared at Vi. She was focused on him and only him. He could hope that she was admiring him and devouring him with those beautiful blue eyes.
“Somethin’s crossed my mind, and I was thinkin’ you’d look so fine,” his raspy purr filled the theater, rumbling in Vi’s ears and making her heart race.
“In a velvet dress, and heels, and an ermine stole.”
“Oh Luther darling,” Vi hummed and swung her legs behind her, “I’ve never put on women’s clothes!—” she tilted her head sharply to the left, “—Except for once—” she tilted her head to the right, “—my mother’s camisole!”
Vi leapt to her feet on top of the car and gripped the mic with both hands. She locked eyes with Remus and sang in time with him.
“So you think only a woman can truly love a man?”
Vi jumped from the hood of the Firebird and landed on her feet, fully prepared to take over the entire show.
“Well you buy me the dress, I’ll be more woman than a man like you can stand!” she sang and posed like Botticelli’s Venus.
“I’ll be your Venus on a chocolate clamshell—” she threw herself forward to the front of the stage and acted like she was serenading a crowd, “—rising on a sea of marshmallow foam! And if you got some sugar for me, Sugar Daddy, bring it home!”
It's our tradition to control
Vi followed the script and went to annoy Remy as she continued the song. It was one of the few pleasures she could indulge in during the performance, and Remy hated it.
Vi faced the audience in a power stance, as Remus fell to his knees and clung to her leg, like a smitten dog, singing with her. She swayed left and right, as if trying to shake him off without ruining her performance, but he kept rolling with her movements. Remus would be happy to stay in this position forever, but the show had to go on.
Like Erich Honecker and Helmut Kohl
Vi whipped her leg out of his grasp and stormed to center stage, singing:
“From the Ukraine to the Rhône! Oh Yeah! Sweet home über alles, Lord I’m comin home! Oh Oh!”
The flashing spotlights behind her went off even faster as she stood as a monument, still bobbing with the music.
“Come on, Sugar Daddy, bring me home!”
The band played the closing riff and then all the lights, except for the background and spotlight on Vi faded out with the song, leaving her catching her breath and glowing.
“And cut!” Janus, the only person in the house, called out and rose from their chair. Vi immediately slumped over and let out a sigh she didn’t realize she was holding.
“Excellent work,” Janus said and adjusted their skirt, “Since we went through the whole thing once already, let’s take a break, get some lunch, and pick up from here in an hour.”
“I don’t need lunch!” Remus laughed, “I am feasting on Vi’s performance! Hot damn!”
Vi rolled her eyes with Janus. At least Remus was talking about the show she just put on and not her ass or something. That gremlin disaster just had to know how to make her blush.
“Bitch, I need food and coffee,” Remy butted in.
“Spare us your unfiltered libido,” Roman added, glaring at Remus. Remus stuck his tongue out at Roman, just to be a brat.
“Food. Now.” Vi huffed before the twins could get into a fight. She got off the stage with Nate, the drummer, wondering if Remus was watching her go. She hoped he was.
Of course he was. His favorite Violet Widow just owned the stage, and she made it look beautiful. He did not want this run to end, not when he could finally act on some of his feelings, even just for show. He would treasure the rest of tech and the next few weeks.
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(Ch 2)