A Bird's Eye View

Omar Khalifa neatly folded the fuchsia crop-top and placed it on the table atop the other five he had just folded. Retail was an entirely thankless job, but since his coach told him not to hold his breath for a basketball scholarship, he needed to work.

"Tuition doesn't pay for itself," his father's nasal voice had told him on their recent stop at the mall to buy some work clothes, "and you have to think about your future!"

Thinking about his future seemed to be all Omar did those days. His future getting out of town and moving to a bigger city. His future not living with a single father who worked construction, flaunting his toxic masculinity all the time by sitting on the couch in nothing but a crotchless pair of panties and a matching bra. His future not having to fold stylish but overpriced blouses to sell to guys who didn't have to work retail.

"Babe," a sing-song voice that Omar knew all too well pulled him from his work, "hold my purse while I browse."

Looking up, the young basketball bench-warmer saw Ritchie Vickers, starting centre for the team, and his girlfriend Amy Tillsbury walk into the store. Even in his four inch heels, Omar had to look up at Amy, the beautiful redhead clutching Ritchie's tiny white bag. She was amazing, the focus of Omar's crush since seventh grade.

Ritchie, on the other hand, was an asshole. He was big for a guy, a towering five-foot-eight, and lorded it over his teammates. After every game, Ritchie's parents would let him throw a party at their huge house with its amazing swimming pool, but at each party Ritchie would remind the other players that he was the big dog, they they weren't genetically blessed like he was. Then he'd only refer to his teammates by nicknames he gave them. Chipmunk is what he called Omar.

What was worse was that he was talented. Ritchie didn't need a basketball scholarship, but he was sure to get one. He was just so damned good at basketball! Maybe it was because of his height, maybe it was because his tits were just a little bit smaller than the rest of the team, but the boy could play. From the bench, Omar would admire Ritchie's skill, even though he hated his guts.

Choosing to ignore the star player browsing the store in his leather micro-mini, Omar returned to the front counter. It was time he touched up his face, anyway. He was pretty sure there were some lollipops under the counter, and he figured that once his lips looked good, he could treat himself, take the edge off his jealousy. Then, hopefully, Ritchie would leave. Omar had blouses to fold.

"My dad says that soon I'm going to start changing," Billy told his friend Johnny, "He says it's part of becoming a man."

"Puberty," Johnny snorted, "I heard about it at school. Sound gross."

"I don't know," Billy said, dropping a finished comic and grabbing another one from the pile, "It doesn't sound all that bad. You start to, you know, develop. And girls like developed guys."

"Ugh," Johnny said, "do we have to talk about this?"

"Sorry," Billy got quiet, flipped a couple pages, then, in a small voice, "it's just that ever since I woke up this morning, my sweat pants feel all uncomfortable. My dad told me that stuff like that would be an early sign that it's started."

"Shit," Johnny swore, dropping his comic, then hiding his face which had turned beet red.

"Are you okay?"

Slowly, Johnny lowered his hands to his waistband and slid it down, revealing a pink pair of satin panties to his best friend.

"I dunno," Johnny said, "But you're not the only one. No going back now."

"Damn," Billy said, suddenly feeling like the whole world was about to change.

"...and in other news, while Russia's attack on Ukraine continues," the news-anchor, Lisa Thicke read off her teleprompter, "Vladimir Putin has been attempting to show that despite aggressive sanctions in Russia, all is well. Seen here in a string bikini bearing the colours of the flag, the Russian leader was filmed touring a state-owned sex-aid factory, even sampling some of the larger dildos."

"Always one to try to show off his masculinity," laughed Lisa's co-anchor, William Simard, playing with a pigtail with one hand and absentmindedly tracing his neckline with his other.

"Almost as if he's compensating for something," Lisa joined in the laughter, "I mean, those dildos weren't even that big. Weren't you telling me that just last night you and your brother were using twelve inchers?"

"Well, I'm not one to kiss and tell," William said with a demure smile through his pink, puffy lips, "but sometimes you've just got to get your suck on..."

"Holy shit," Tim breathed as he floated in the void, Justice showing scene after scene of a transformed world, his new life having become the template for all manhood.

"It was a big one," Justice's voice croaked, "Now let's go see how things have changed at home!"