Chapter 10

“Oooo!” Lauren was squealing as she dug through each of the high end garments hanging in her daughter's closet. Well, truthfully they weren't that fancy, but compared to most of the clothes the family had owned they may as well have been bespoke crafts imported directly from Paris. “It's unreal how much that girl spent on you, Emily. Does she wipe her ass with hundred dollar bills or something?”

‘No, just with your heart.’ Emmanuel thought to himself, his feelings for the miniature Machiavelli that was his ex-girlfriend conflicted even still. The previous night, in spite of everything that happened over the weekend, the recent conscript to femininity found himself wondering if he could find the right thing to say, or give her just the right gift to make everything go back to the way it was. As soon as he turned over and his ample bosom took the covers with it, he knew there was no way in hell.

“I'm thinking this brown dress, and those booties again, baby.” the new girl’s mother said, holding up the chic linen garment with its pleated skirt against her own slender frame. “At least until you get a bit more practice in those skyscrapers. God forbid you come home with a bruise or scrape after falling flat on that pretty face.” Tossing her selection on the bed, she dug through the closet a little more, ready to plan out a new outfit for every day of the week. “I know you're excited to explore your new style, and all of this is gonna look great on you for sure, but you really oughta buy some pants. You know, for practicality.”

“I agree, Mom. You're right. I guess I just got a little carried away.” The boy watched his mother, as happy as she'd been in years, and as much as he felt trapped by the contents of his closet, he felt trapped all the more by the joyous energy exuding from the thirty-two year old woman. “It'll have to wait till I get paid though. Besides, I don't think I can wear denim to work anyway.”

“Hmm, that sounds like a plan.” Lauren pulled out an ivory sleeveless wrap blouse from the closet, now second guessing her original pick. “How about we wear this…” she stopped, smirking to herself from the small slip up from a desire to raid her new daughter's closet for herself. “How about you wear this today instead? It will show off your new assets.” Just looking at Emily’s chest astounded her. The idea that science had come so far as to give temporary breasts like that was amazing. “Yes, I think it will go well with this skirt.” she said taking a beige skirt off a hanger, wishing she had clothes like this when she was young.

While the newly feminized boy’s mom was keeping busy, and drooling over all the clothes she'd be able to steal from her daughter, said child was doing his best to follow her instructions as he tried to apply his eye makeup. The shadows weren't too hard, if maybe a little over blended, reducing the intended gradient between the pigments. The winged eyeliner was a different story, even with the simple marker styled applicator. The right eye was just okay, drawn out a little long, but with no jagged edges, it was a decent enough application for a first attempt. The left eye was a different story. Starting on the inner corner, it went well enough, but by the end it was a job reminiscent of a toddler with a half-eaten crayon. Calling it a wing was generous at best, the final stroke better resembling a drumstick.

Emmanuel wanted to cry as he eyed his reflection, feeling like a clown. “Mom, I need help.” he whined, the new voice well suited to that kind of prissy angst.

“Oh, it's okay baby.” the woman said, hurrying over, and stroking her fingers across his cheek soothingly, then fetching a pointed cotton swab, and some makeup remover. She explained, “This is why we do our eyes first. Easier to fix any fuck-ups without all that foundation in the way.” She pushed up her glasses, and then with a comforting smile, bent over and carved two proportional mirrored wings out of the mess. A few strokes to thicken up the right side to match, and suddenly there was a cat eye any girl would have been proud of. “Don't worry, Emily. There's always tomorrow, right? You'll get it eventually. You just need practice, is all.”

Thoughts of tomorrow were usually a source of anxiety for the boy, and the idea of being better with cosmetics by then was not a comforting one. He immediately had a desire to do something boyish like go climb a tree or to throw rocks, but she was happy and he’d done enough to make her life difficult. Wanting to see that happiness on his mother’s face, hear the joy in her voice, he held steady on his path. So he returned the expression, not wanting to think about tomorrow, only focused on today before moving on to the next step. Foundation didn't seem too scary, but that's only because he had yet to hear the words contouring and highlighting.

After a little more trial and error, a little more pouting, and a little more help, it was time to work on the hair. Still wrapped in a little terry cloth turban, the wavy brown locks were damp from the teen’s morning shower. Lauren undid the little button fastener, and let them spill down onto her daughter’s shoulders. “I’m glad you picked extensions with this texture, since they’re pretty similar to what you’ll have to deal with once your own grows out. I don’t know if you remember a few years back when I chopped all my hair off to sell because we needed groceries. I doubt it, but wouldn’t it be crazy if these were made from that. Whatever the case, you’ll have my curls eventually.”

“Of course I remember that, Mom.” Emmanuel said with a mixture of guilt, gratitude, and nostalgia. His mind briefly drifted back to those first few months after his father went away. “I’m sorry you’ve had to sacrifice so much for me.”

“Hush.” the kind mother said, placing her finger over his freshly painted lips. “That’s not something for you to apologize for. You didn’t ask for any of this. Besides, it’s not your job to worry about me. You’ve got that backwards, baby.” She kissed just beside her daughter’s painted face, not wanting to ruin the girl’s, and honestly more her own, hard work.

‘Not asking for this… She is more right than she knows.’

Heavily emphasizing the importance of heat protectant, she liberally coated the extensions, and set to task with a blow dryer and a paddle brush, Emmanuel was genuinely fascinated by the sheer amount of craft required for something she made look so effortless. “Okay, now it’s time to style it. I’ll do it today, and then tomorrow I can watch you. First things first, set your part. It’s easier for hair like ours to use the end of a rat tail comb. You just slide it right up the middle, and lift it up, and it should split perfectly.” The overwhelmed boy felt like a cat watching someone pull a rabbit out of a hat. “Next, we need to coat it with a little texturizer or the frizz will be out of control. You’re going to be very grateful we live somewhere that hardly ever rains. Anyway after that, it’s all downhill. Just scrunch it up a little bit, making sure it’s generally even, and then wait for it to set. Voila!” As she finished Emmanuel saw in the mirror, Emily had the same style as the day before, more or less, if perhaps a little sleeker.

Lauren watched her daughter heading towards the door with a similar feeling to the first day she dropped her off at kindergarten, though both her hair and her legs were much shorter back then. “I can drive you in today.” the mother said, fearful of the cruel world her baby was heading out into.

Emmanuel paused, **** a smile to his face, and turned back to his mother, saying sweetly, “Mom, really, I’ll be okay. I promise. Get some rest. Teddy’s picking me up tonight too. See you at dinner.” As the words spilled from his lips, he didn’t quite believe them, dreading seeing the girls at the bus stop on the way.

“Well, hello there, Miss Brooks!” Song said, as Emmanuel stepped off the bus. “Sounds like you had a great time last night.”

The newest girl didn’t want to sit with the two, but the unfamiliar heels were already wreaking havoc on his calves, and the only seat available was right between the blond in the flirty orange dress, fixing her lipstick in her compact, and the brunette in a powerful black dress, white vest ensemble, sitting proudly with a smug look on her face.

Emery clicked the little mirror shut, and excitedly turned her attention to Emily. “I texted Theo to see how he thought it went, and he told me it must have gone well, since you were still asleep in his bed. You little slut, you.” She playfully jabbed her friend in the shoulder, proud of herself for setting up the new, happy couple.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Emery.” Emmanuel sulked, a blush showing brightly in his cheeks. “Can we just change the subject, please?”

“What’s the matter, Emily?” Song asked, putting extra emphasis on the girl’s new unwanted name. “Never kiss and tell?”

The skirted youth didn’t answer the question, instead responding with one in kind. “This was never going to be just one night, was it?”

Furious, the Korean-American teen spit yet another question back. “Well, when is this going to be over for us, EMILY?!” Not having an answer, Emmanuel shut up, and retreated back into his own thoughts. He didn’t feel comfortable. Just speaking in the feminine tone in front of Song felt like a defeat.

The next bus ride was spent in silence, each youth pondering the events to come. Emmanuel wondered if he could possibly fake his own ****, and live in the woods forever. Certainly not with that manicure. It was the only way out of it he could come up with, but decided for the dozenth time that he needed to accept responsibility for his mistakes, and live with the consequences. Song spent the ride imagining the inevitable argument with Bianca when they stormed into her office. He played the tape in his head, again and again, mentally preparing any comeback for whatever argument, or curveball she threw at him. He tried to summon up all that misplaced courage he’d lost along the way, not aware that he was coming off as a snarky bitch, rather than as the conquering hero he fancied himself. Emery just hoped she’d still be able to get free pizza tacos since Emily was Theo’s girlfriend now.

Bianca sat at her desk, drinking one particularly huge morning coffee, feeling quite jet-lagged after an early cross-country flight home from Florida. It wasn’t early enough though. When the plane arrived late, she was **** to head straight into work in an Uber, arms laden with densely packed suitcases, stuffed with what one could be forgiven to think was most, if not all, of her wardrobe, as well as a few new purchases made on the journey. The entire trip wasn’t a complete waste, the store manager getting some time to clear her head, to get a new haircut, and to catch up with what was going on in her best friend’s life. The problem was what had mostly been going on in her best friend’s life was her new relationship with an up and comer at Megacorp, the company where Steph worked in the marketing department.

The walking two-hundred dollar haircut, with a dollar store personality, and a deficit of humility wasn’t much different from any other junior executive at the company, but Bia didn’t have to deal with those assholes, just the one who never seemed to leave Steph’s apartment. Her bestie couldn’t see it yet, but the traveler kept her cool, fantasizing about the day they’d happily make another girl from a shitty man, just like Ariel, and the teens back home.

The woman’s foul mood wasn’t helped by two of her recent converts barging into her office unannounced along with some strange girl she’d never seen before. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!?” she shrieked, as Song slammed the door behind them. “She can’t be back here!”

The diminutive boy turned girl’s red kissable lips spread as he grinned wickedly, then asked, “So you’re firing Emily, then?”

“Firing who?” Bianca asked, glaring at her latest conquest, one who didn’t seem to be as compliant as she’d believed. It was only when she had to crane her head upwards to look at the face of the unfamiliar girl, standing a little over six feet tall in her heels, with a mortified expression painted on her countenance, was there a flash of recognition.

“I like your haircut.” Emery said sweetly to Bianca, seemingly oblivious to the situation that was playing out right beside her. “The straight bangs of that French bob really suit your bone structure. Did you have a good we…?” The question was stopped by a hand from the woman covering her lips, while trying not to literally explode.

She knew Emery must have somehow contributed to Emmanuel’s transformation, but there wasn’t a doubt in Bianca’s mind who the real mastermind was. The woman grabbed Song and Emery by the ear, and dragged them to their usual spot and yanked them down into the chairs across from her desk. She bent over, her face mere inches from Song’s, and somehow he hadn’t yet lost his nerve. She wondered where the meek little girl she’d worked so hard to create had gone. In her place there seemed to sit a person not that different from her mother, the woman Bianca had met once all those months ago. Enraged by this, the store manager did her best to hold it in, but fire burned behind her eyes. Slowly, and deliberately she asked, “What…did…you…do?”

“It’s really not her fault, Bianca?” Emmanuel pleaded, surprising both his boss, and the Asian teen. “It’s mine. Like, they said it wasn’t fair for them to be punished like this, and they were right. I was getting away with things they were being punished for, so it’s only right that I serve the same sentence, right?”

“Besides, I’ve locked up her cock, so you can’t get off forcing us to suck it anymore, anyway.” The taste of his lipstick was hardly noticed at this point, yet at the mention of Emmanuel’s member, and an activity they shared almost every day, the phantom flavor of cock and cum danced across the teen’s tongue as his stomach churned. “I’ve hidden the key, and you won’t be getting it until you agree to let us go!” Fueled by a righteous fury, Song screamed the demand into his tormentor's face, far more confident than the first time he found himself under the magnifying glass in this office. His heart twinged as the good memories, far more than he’d care to admit, flooded his thoughts when Emmanuel threw himself on his sword just now. Perhaps that’s why he felt the need to add, “...All three of us!”

Furious, Bianca made a sound the three had never heard before, some kind of combination of a grunt and a scream. Uncharacteristically, she let her anger get the best of her, causing the woman to pick up a paperweight from her desk, and throw it down onto the low-pile carpet, the heavy mass bouncing across the room. She hadn’t been this furious since she found out her once boyfriend bought a picture of her off Ari from his hidden cameras. Back then she had kicked the man in the groin, and then set the oaf up with the feminized Ari a short time later. Pausing just a moment, the frustrated beauty took a deep breath, and tried to figure out a way to proceed that didn’t involve killing the skinny teen now brimming with attitude. She turned her attention to her favorite employee, and his ample cleavage. “Emmanuel, don’t worry, those breasts are only temporary. Just give it a couple of weeks, and we’ll have you back to your usual handsome self.

“No!” the feminized boy shouted. His mind drew terrifying images of his mom losing her daughter that was giving her the happiness she so richly deserved, and Teddy being unable to love him with a crew cut, so he has his mother fired, and his family is once again thrown into the horrors of poverty. His mother quit Target over text after all, with no notice to boot, citing the lack of respect for her only being repaid in kind. He’d probably have to result to serious crime, the same as his father, and then he’d get arrested, and have to go to prison, ruining… If there was an Olympic event for overthinking, Emmanuel would have won the gold medal every four years until his retirement. He told himself, ‘I have to be a good girl.’ the thought accompanied by a shiver. “I don’t want to go back.” he whimpered, the words painful.

“See, she likes it!” Song said, gesturing emphatically to the new girl standing across the room. Though he did give his creation a second glance, unsure of their motivations.

Emery sat behind her friends, terrified by all the yelling, looking like she might start crying. Her easygoing thought process didn’t leave a lot of room for disagreement, and in this room at present, everyone was disagreeing with everyone, somehow even themselves. “Do we have to yell?” she asked, a question no one answered.

Song stroked Emery’s arm to comfort her, an increasingly common show of camaraderie from the spoiled youth, and then continued the diatribe. “What the two of us wanted was for Brooks to understand what it’s like to be **** to adore a person and how it screws with your head. See, unlike you, we were even nice about it. I only joked about her sucking his dick. We didn’t **** her, and I absolutely didn’t tell her to fuck him. She did that all on her own.”

“Emmanuel, is this true?” Bianca asked after picking her jaw up from the floor. “Sorry, I mean Emily. Emily, is this true?” She said the name out loud in her head several times over, trying to cement in the new information.

“Yeah, I guess I think this is best.” Emmanuel stroked his backside, the hazy memory explaining, yet not painting the full picture of his feelings during the act. The insecurity sent the anxious teen into a thousand yard stare, but in that painted visage it could almost have been read as a wistful young girl in love. The correction of his name to the new feminine moniker not having a chance to slam into his ego till later.

“See, she likes it!” Song exclaimed, “I rest my case!” The new girl just going along made Song feel like things were going well for him, but something in the back of his mind was still irking him. ‘Why is Brooks backing me up and acting like he enjoys it?’

Song’s sentiment drilled a hole straight to Emmanuel’s medulla oblongata. Outside he was quiet as always, but inside his thoughts were flying like a barrel going over Niagara Falls. ‘Is that true? Do I actually want it? There’s no way I want it, right? I mean, why didn’t I go home though? He didn’t ask me to stay. He expected it though, didn’t he? I mean, it was too easy, right. Song lies. Jae lies. Jae always lies. She sure doesn’t sound like Jae though. Of course it’s your fault. You did this to yourself, Emily. Better get used to that. That’s your name now, right, EMILY? Emily, Emily, Emily. God, you’re so stupid, EMILY!”

The internal self-hating tirade only halted when Emmanuel was snapped back to reality by the sound of Song’s chirpy little voice, yelling, “You want to stick me back in that cage? Fine! It’s not like I can feel anything down there, anymore anyway?!” and Emery emphatically waving her arms, and shaking her head, when she’d rather be hit by a bus than go back in that prison a second time. For the blonde, Song’s plan was starting to sound like a terrible idea.

“Enough!” Bianca screamed, her voice booming through the enclosed space, splitting eardrums, and bringing doe-eyed silence to the room . Her words cold as ice, she said, “You know, you two were so unbelievably close to your freedom. Honestly, I was going to cut you loose before you went back to school. My hope was that at least one of you would recognize a good thing, and stay with Emmanuel. A good man is hard to find after all.” Closing one of her hands into a fist, her nails bit into her skin, not enough to bleed, but enough to feel a little pain. Her dolls dared to rise up against her. There was no way she was going to just let that go.

She wasn’t lying, on both counts. True to her word, she kept a tally on her phone. Song and Emery were so close. All they had to do was keep their head down, and the irate woman would have moved on to Steph’s new boyfriend. All she had to do was get her friend to open her eyes, and that train would be ready to leave the station. Florida seemed nice enough, and there wasn’t much tying her to California anymore, definitely not the unfulling job.

As she opened one of her suitcases, out came a little package, the spoils of a fun girl’s trip, one of the few moments she’d had with her best friend to herself. When making these purchases at the sex shop, it wasn’t Song and Emery she was thinking of when imagining using her new devices. Unfortunately for them, she discovered they were both still a little too big for their britches, and in need of further instruction. Her work wasn’t done, and Emily needed avenging after all. At least that’s what she told herself. If the slightly unhinged woman was being honest with herself, she was furious the two had the gall to break her favorite toy.

“You know what girls? You’re right. It should be fair, but since we don’t have any strapping young men around anymore, we’ll have to make do.” Bianca slammed two strap-in butt-plugs on the table along with a tube of personal lubricant. “I’m going to need you two to bend over my desk, please.”

Emery’s expression was a portrait of shock, and horror, the only thing having ever darkened that door being a thermometer when he was little, and needed his temperature taken, so nothing pleasant. Song’s thoughts drifted back to the last time he’d actually orgasmed when Brooks was knuckle deep inside of him. A brief sensation of pleasure followed, almost pavlovian in nature. Catching himself in the moment, Song hoped nobody noticed, and his scowl was quickly replaced, while he assumed the position without saying a word, feeling like his plan was at best equal to that of a certain coyote and his attempts on a certain roadrunner’s life.

After a good bit of gunting by Song, and a little bit of crying from Emery, Bianca finished inserting the little rubber stumps, and tightened those belts till they weren’t going anywhere. “You girl’s head off to work, you don’t want to be late.” A swat on both their bottoms, and the two basically tip-toed out of the office, their legs stiff as a board. Song was equally stiff in other places as well for the first time in a while, though unfortunately that wouldn’t last until he finally had a moment alone later in the bathroom.

“Guess I’m going to need to make you a new name tag.” Bianca said, as she turned to her employee. She was already feeling better, that extra wiggle in her dolls’ walk as they left giving her the sense of **** she was craving. So much of life felt out of control, so being able to exert her will over Song and Emery helped.

Later that evening, after their shift, they both returned to find Bianca and Emily discussing the new girl making far more sales than usual that day. “Can we take these things out, now?” Song asked, his soft voice coming out as a whine, while Emery said nothing but had a light blush to her cheeks that had been present all day.

“Not quite yet, girls. You know, I thought we’d made a lot of progress, but clearly a little more punishment is in order. We’ll have to start all over, and there’s no time to start like the present. Methodically, she strolled behind the two, and before they knew what happened, both were clicked into a brand new pair of handcuffs, their wrists protected by soft padding. Clearly these weren’t intended for criminals, but as far as Bianca was concerned, that’s exactly what they were for.

Turning the boys turned girls to face each other, she put her hands on each of their shoulders. “Down.” She didn’t grip them hard, nor did she put venom in her voice. It was a simple command as she pressed lightly. Practically daring them to resist as she pushed them down on their knees. Like some kind of pornographic Darth Maul, Bianca brandished a foot long, double-sided dildo, and stuck one end into each of her horrified captive’s mouths. Manically, she explained, “For starters, we’re not discussing anything else, and you two won’t be leaving until you two kiss for us. You’ll just have to do it with your new toy in your mouth. You definitely won’t be going home till then. Get to it, girls.”

From there, like a scene out of a Japanese game show from hell, the friends attempted to touch lips, **** as the giant cock pushed deeper and deeper into their throats. As they moved closer, it was obvious Emery was doing the lion’s share of the work, and Song was going to have to start pulling his weight if he wanted to make it home in time for dinner. Emily might have been able to leave when Teddy got there, but the sleep deprived torturer wasn’t going anywhere.

While the two attempted their task, Bianca leaned over and whispered into her best salesperson’s ear, “Sorry you have to suffer a little longer, but that cage should be off soon, don’t worry.” Then, loud enough for everyone to hear, she said, “Miss Song will be bringing that key tomorrow, I’m sure, because otherwise, she’ll need to wear a diaper to work by the time I’m through with her.”

Hands locked behind his back, and knees starting to hurt, the thin white thigh-highs doing little to protect his legs, Song struggled. Saliva ran down the corner of his mouth, and past his chin. He tried to breath through his nose, attempting to take more of the rubber phallus into his mouth. The thing was big enough that the only way his lips were going to meet Emery’s was if both of them were swallowing the thing down their throats. His lips around Emmanuel’s member, cum filling his mouth was a pleasant memory compared to the **** of what he was doing, especially with being impaled at the same time by the plug up his ass.

Beginning to truly comprehend the meaning of the word suffering, Emmanuel was very aware of the metal prison underneath his pleated skirt. As much as he hated watching, the sight of his ex-girlfriend’s **** on that comical dildo was creating a situation that turned him on enough for the contraption to become quite uncomfortable. For the first time ever, the anxious boy turned girl was incredibly grateful he had a boyfriend, who’d be there to pick him up any minute. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but one thing he was certain of is that life would never be the same again.