Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A quick phone call to the store, and Bianca had Emmanuel sitting out on a bench in front of The Hanger, where he was waiting patiently as she approached with her other two charges. When he first caught a glimpse of Emer, and Song as they walked towards him, his eyes continued onward. It didn’t even register that the two gorgeous girls were the same two friends who were dragged off to a fate unknown just a few hours earlier. Once he realized who the pretty little Korean girl in the white dress, and the hot blonde with the cotton candy hair were, his jaw hit the floor. He wasn’t sure if they’d gotten makeovers, or if somewhere in the back of the mall there was some mad scientist forcing people into some kind of space age sex changing machine.

The devious beauty introduced the kids once again. “Emmanuel, I’d like you to meet Song, and Emery.”

“Why doesn’t he get a new name?” Emer complained, pouting his sparkling glossy lip.

“Because little Miss Song’s name was already pretty enough, Emery.” Bianca explained.

“What happened to you two? I mean…What?” Emmanuel asked, still not believing these two were the same guys he’d arrived with earlier that day, even though he clearly heard Emer’s voice come from the blue-eyed goddess.

“What happened to you, Manny?” Emer said, chuckling to himself, though hardly breaking the illusion. “You look like a fuckin’ dork.”

“I said be nice, Emery. Is that anyway to talk about your boyfriend? Especially when he tried so hard to look his best for you this afternoon.”

“Come again?” All day Emmanuel heard Bianca use the phrase, “girlfriends” when discussing the other two. In his mind he just chalked it up to teasing the others while they were off suffering god knows what. Hearing her call him Emery’s boyfriend was a different story. It put all of their earlier conversations into perspective. Further examination of his new girlfriends’ outfits and he realized they were all things he’d said he liked when Bianca was giving him the third degree earlier. “Are you saying Emery is my girlfriend-girlfriend?”

“Of course she is silly.” The young woman stated it as a point of fact, and while her tone was sweet, the appearance of his accomplices told him it was probably better not to push back. “They both are. Little Miss Song here too. The three of you need to be nice to each other from now on, being that you girls are in a friendly competition for this young man’s heart. Sort of like Bettie and Veronica, but very modern if you ask me. If you don’t however, somebody might have to call the cops, and nobody wants that after all. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

While he was more certain that Emery was the same Emer that they left in the salon, Song was another story. The little demure girl Emmanuel was reintroduced to had yet to say a single word. He would only have been sure the delicate flower was in fact the arrogant twit he knew and tolerated if the girl would have come around the corner spitting fire with acid dripping from her pores. Instead she stood sweetly, if shyly, seemingly waiting to be spoken to before she dared speak.

“You three stand over here where the lighting is good.” Bianca said, pointing to a spot out in the middle of the concourse. “I want to get a picture of you three for the relationship scrapbook. Emmanuel, you stand in the middle, and you girls get one each side of him.”

The fashion photographer hadn’t had the opportunity to practice her craft in a long time. She’d rather use her DSLR to take the pictures, but didn’t want to miss the opportunity for shots on day one. She settled on making due today, but knew tomorrow would be when the real fun began. Not even making the request, she physically rearranged her new models as though they were mannequins, Emmanuel with his arms around the feminized boys, and the two curled up to him in mirrored positions, their fingertips touching their hearts like they’d break at any moment without their strong man to hold them. She had them kick back their legs like they were being kissed in an old movie, and then stepped back to frame her shot. Each of the three boys was beet red, but Emer and Song hid their shame a little better under a few layers of cosmetics.

With everything finally to the perfectionist’s satisfaction, she announced, “Allright girls, kiss your man on the cheek like you’re so happy to finally see him after a long day at work.”

Emmanuel froze. He wanted to keep the woman blackmailing him and his friends happy, but at the same time he felt pity for his two femininely clad cohorts, even Song, though he was positive Song deserved every bit of what he was getting. The innocent femininity the two were displaying didn’t help matters, him almost feeling like he was taking advantage of two innocent girls.

For Emer it was a different story. The boy had a reputation as a bit of a dare devil and it was well deserved. Some might have thought him brave but a lot of it came from his ignorance to the consequences should something go badly. He was the kind of guy who’d eat a spider if you paid him the right amount of money, and he definitely valued his freedom more than twenty dollars. Kissing Manny was just another bug that went down unpleasantly, but went down all the same. “Don’t make this weird, dude.” he said before closing his eyes, and diving in, planting his lips right on Emmanuel’s cheek and waiting. He couldn’t help but notice that he and the taller boy were actually the same height while he wore his new pumps.

Without a word Song did the same, so embarrassed he was blushing from his exposed shoulder. Outside, he might have had a peaceful expression, but inside he was screaming. He was screaming at Emmanuel for letting him do this. He was screaming at Emer for being so stupid. He was screaming at the stupid bitch holding him hostage, and he was screaming at himself for screwing up bad enough to wind up in this situation in the first place. He complied with every request, and every time he hated himself that much more for digging himself deeper into the trap, his actions drifting further and further from the flawless self image his ego had spent the better part of a decade building up.

Bianca snapped a dozen shots while they held this pose, each from minutely different angles, trying to make sure she got the perfect shot. Emmanuel tried to smile for each one, but his face looked more like a kid who just got his first erection in class and was hoping nobody would notice.

The eager shutterbug finally gave the trio permission to relax, while she scrolled through her pictures, loving how the three’s photographic chemistry showed. “Okay, let’s head back into the office. I want to get a few more private photos, and we’ve got a lot to discuss before I take everyone home.”

The three followed Bianca into the back of The Hanger, the employees behind the desk snickering at the sight of the new girls walking past while they rang up customers. The door closed behind them, and the three terrified boys stood quietly awaiting Bianca’s instructions.

Emmanuel was blushing profusely, stealing glimpses of the other two for moments at a time, infatuated by their beauty, though ashamed by the knowledge of what was underneath. He thought to himself, ‘I mean, I’m not gay, but they’re so damn sexy. It’s doing weird things to my head. God, I hope this is over soon. She bought so many clothes today though. Song’s gonna flip when he finds out how much money she spent.’

Song had officially given up. The witch who was holding his feet to the coals now had photographic evidence of him dolled up like a princess while he dangled off the arm of his new boyfriend like a lovesick puppy. She even got him kissing Emmanuel on the cheek. There was no turning back now. A melancholic expression adorned the petite boy while he inwardly prayed Bianca would get bored with them sooner rather than later.

Emer was standing next to a mirror hanging up on the office wall, where he returned to examining his reflection with **** scrutiny. He shifted his head from side to side as though he was trying to examine the back until suddenly it was like a light bulb went off over his head. He said out loud, “Dude, I’m like a really fucking hot chick. Like, look at her.” He was still afraid of Bianca but his shit eating grin also told everyone just how funny he thought the whole situation was. He turned to the others, laughing while honking his false breast in his well manicured hands.

“We’re going to get some couple shots now-er throuple shots, I guess.” Bianca explained as she pulled a chair into the center of her office floor. “I figured I’d cut you a break and give you a little privacy, but if anybody makes this any more difficult than it needs to be, then we can take this back outside for everyone to see.”

While Emer was still stuck in the mirror like a bird seeing its reflection for the first time, Song’s face painted a portrait of panic one would find unimaginable if they’d met the spiteful brat just a few hours earlier. This was all the reassurance Bianca needed that things were going exactly to plan.

She pulled a chair into the middle of the floor, then pointed over to Emmanuel, and then back to the chair. “Have a seat.” He quickly complied, then the devious clothier called Song over with a wiggle of her finger. “The first thing a good girlfriend needs to know is how to turn her man on.”

Song nervously complied, stepping closer to the woman he thought was demented, unsure of what was in store for him. He only knew he wasn’t going to like it. The boy in the gorgeous white dress stood in front of Emmanuel, shifting slightly in his unfamiliar red heels and awaited instructions. Without making eye contact with anyone in the room, his eyes kept downcast, he asked in a small voice just barely above a whisper, “What now?”

“That’s a silly question. I wouldn’t think you’d need to ask me how to please a man, Miss Song. Aren’t we the prim little thing? Well, it’s okay if you want to be a lady out in public, but in private you’ve got to let your man have something, otherwise you just might lose out to Emery here before the game even begins. What can we do to help break you out of that prudish shell?” Bianca tapped her finger on her chin inquisitively, though she already knew the answer. “Hmm…what to do, what to do? What is the opposite of a classy lady like prim, little Miss Song? Oh, I know! Give him a little strip tease!”

“Without music?” Song asked. He felt so out of sorts, so ****, beaten and small. Because of that he couldn’t bring himself to even raise his voice to its normal volume, wishing this lady would just forget about him. He was **** for any means to not comply but also not get punished. All he received in response was Bianca’s grin, and her pulling his phone from her back pocket, and playing a smooth R&B playlist. The strip tease was bad enough, but now he’d have to do it to the sounds of a cheesy soprano saxophone. He thought, ‘Now she wants me to dance around like some kind of hooker. What’s next? Is she going to bring a pole?’ Of course, from the ivory tower he grew up in, he didn’t truly understand the difference between the professions. He didn’t even really know how to dance. He only knew that if he didn’t try his best and strip tease Brooks like he meant it, then there would be hell to pay.

In earnest, Song began gyrating his hips. The sensation was so foreign, he nearly lost his balance. The skirt of the dress fluttered around at his slightest movement, in fact everything about what he wore felt off as he moved. The earrings danced about wildly, but after a minute he started to get in the rhythm of things. In the trapped youth’s mind, the process was very mechanical, him trying to stick with the beat, and emulate some of the moves he’d seen in a Blackpink video. All the while, he tried not to be present in the slightest, hoping his thoughts would let him drift away to some island paradise, but it wasn’t in the cards. He was very aware of the fact that he was standing in front of the boy who was supposed to be his muscle, but the only muscle Emmanuel seemed to be flexing was one barely stopping the drool from escaping his lips.

"No, move your hips more. Yeah, like that. Work it girl! No, like you were just doing it! You had it!" It was hard to tell from the tone if Emer was shouting this to be genuinely helpful, or because he thought it was one of the funniest things he’d ever seen, and just couldn’t resist the jeer. Song knew it was the latter without any clarification. Normally that was the kind of thing that got Emer punched in the arm, but instead, the pretty little thing followed his advice, and went back to the particular hip gyrations he’d been doing just before. Anything to make this hell end sooner so he could go home and die of shame, never to be heard from again.

“This isn’t a strip club, Emmanuel. She’s your girlfriend.” Bianca said, noting that the feminized boy hadn’t taken off a single article of clothing in their so-called strip tease. The entire time she’d been snapping away with her phone’s camera, but the pictures were starting to get repetitive, and if she didn’t guide them along, the two boys would be stuck in this awkward stalemate until everyone died of starvation. “Reach out and grab her. Pull her close so she knows just how badly you want her.”

‘Grab her?’ Song thought in horror, his thinly arched eyebrows shooting up as his eyes went wide.

Emmanuel complied. It wasn’t planned, but their height difference, and Song’s position mid move left the pretty Korean teen’s firm little ass in the perfect place for Emmanuel’s hands to make contact. Nervously, the seated boy squeezed hard into the soft mounds of fat and muscle that made up his private dancer’s backside. He pulled the delicate boy turned girl onto his lap, knowing what was happening was wrong. His participation in it was at best partially voluntary, but Emmanuel couldn’t help enjoying the feel of the skirted rear he’d grabbed onto. What he saw was different from what he knew, but seeing is believing so his mind rewarded him with a shot of dopamine.

Song splayed his legs, and allowed himself to be slotted into place, lest he and the boyfriend he did not want smash their foreheads together. As his legs drifted apart to wrap around Emmanuel’s waist, the skirt of his virginal white dress found its way up above his own, held aloft by the unenthusiastic suitor, Song’s red panties on full display for Emer to see.

“Good job, Casanova.” Bianca praised. “Now, give her a kiss.”

The two entwined boys looked to her with pleading eyes, but her expression told them, don’t even ask. Song closed his eyes, trying not to throw up all over the room, while Emmanuel did the same, trying to pretend that it wasn’t the boy he found most obnoxious he was sharing his first kiss with. The two touched lips with the grace of a little girl smashing two dolls faces together right after she marries them.

“Was that okay? Can we stop now?” Song asked, literally begging. He didn’t think he’d begged for anything since he was four or five.

“Not if you think that’s a good kiss!” Bianca answered. It was amusing how clumsy the whole ordeal was, but that wasn’t doing her portfolio any good, with not one usable photo of the exchange. “Have you turned him on yet?”

The question didn’t require an answer. Song knew exactly what the psychotic redhead wanted, and the only way he could see out of the situation was to give it to her. He wrapped his arms around the well dressed boy, and closed his eyes once more, firmly locking lips with Brooks, slowly opening his mouth, and letting the tongues explore each other. At first Emmanuel was shocked, but without meaning to, he found himself enjoying the sensation. He could feel the creamy texture of the lips he was kissing, the weight and warmth of the body on top of his own and could smell the cherry blossom scent clinging to them. His eyes closed as he relaxed, and for the first time he was full on making out with a hot girl. He just wished the hot girl wasn’t actually the idiot who got him into this mess in the first place.

All those thoughts floated away as biology took over. The two teens were grinding against each other, Bianca’s flash flickering away, while Emer found himself swept up in the moment, his Jeers giving way to a silent disbelief as he watched his best friends tear at each other. This went on for a few more minutes, until Song was rudely pulled back from the dreamland he’d sent his mind to when he felt his makeout partner’s swelling sex pressing into his own. This was enough to cut their kiss short, and Song spilled backwards onto the floor with a horrified expression on his face. He looked up to Bianca practically begging, and said, “He’s definitely turned on now. Did I do a good enough job?”

“You did an excellent job, Miss Song.” came the response full of genuine praise. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.” The defeated boy found his way back to his feet, wishing the world would open up and swallow him whole, while the boy he’d just given an erection sat nervously in the chair, his hands hovering over the little tent in his pants while all the blood in his body simultaneously ran to his cheeks and chub. “Alright, Emery, you’re up.”

“Wait…what?” The entire time Emer was watching his friends get hot and heavy, and he was lapping up the schadenfreude from their misery, it never once occurred to him that he’d be next. “Do I really have to?”

“Are you seriously asking?” Bianca replied, answering his question with her own. At first she thought a lot of it was a bit, but as the day progressed she was learning that Emer really was just as dumb as he seemed. “Come on, Emery sweetie. You don’t want Miss Song to outshine you, do you?”

Emer let out a huff, but resigned himself to the task. ‘It can’t be that different from kissing a girl, right?’ he asked himself. ‘I mean, Manny’s probably still got half a boner anyway, so let’s just get this over with.

The blonde strolled over to the seated boy, and sat sideways on his lap, like he was about to give Santa his list. He wrapped one arm around Emmanuel’s neck, and without a second thought, something he was undoubtedly the least likely to do, he kissed him with the same expertise he’d kissed a dozen girls before at this point in his life. The only difference being this time he was the one in the skirt.

When Emmanuel kissed Song, it was one of the worst experiences of his life at first. Neither wanted to do it, but after a few minutes, when his teenage hormones had fully taken over, it became easier to forget that the demure girlfriend in his lap wasn’t the same twit he’d ripped off for forty dollars just a few hours early. This girl was pretty. She wasn’t full of herself. She smelled nice. Without his sudden erection scaring her off, he may very well have forgotten Jae ever existed.

Once Emer kissed him, he tried to pause, and make sense of it all. ‘This is your buddy.’ he told himself, but the effort was for naught. He liked the way his buddy smelled. He liked the way his buddy’s lips tasted. He liked the way his buddy’s nails felt as they ran through his hair. Without meaning to, he reached around and held his buddy’s breast in the palm of his hand. ‘She’s such a good kisser.’ he found himself thinking.

Unfortunately for Emmanuel, his new dream girl broke the kiss, and his eyes opened longingly as he watched her face drift away, just a string of saliva still connecting the two. In that moment she could have asked him for the moon, and he’d have spent the rest of his natural life trying to get enough rope together to reach the thing. That’s why it was especially heartbreaking when the next words out of her mouth were, “Manny, you’re such a bad kisser.” One last kick to the ego was when she pulled a disgusted expression, scratching at her tongue with her newly extended nails, then begged for a soda to rinse her mouth out with.

“Be nice, Emery.” Bianca laughed. “You’ll have plenty of time to help him with that.”