Chapter 6

Lying back across the table while Eun did what she was best at, Emmanuel dreamed of better days gone by. His two favorite girls were feeding him grapes while they enjoyed a picnic together beside a pristine lake. While Song continued dangling the violet cluster above his open mouth, he felt Emery’s gentle grip massaging his shoulders. As he melted into a state of splendid relaxation, a crow cawed in the distance. The sky darkened, and the lake turned red, as it filled with blood. Song opened her mouth to speak, but instead of her soft beautiful voice he heard Jae, venom dripping from each word, saying, "No one ever liked you Brooks. You are alone." It was then that he saw the fire burning in Song’s eyes as she licked her lips. When he felt Emery plunge a hot knife into his back, he turned to find her giggling maniacally. That’s when he knew this wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare, one that was only beginning.

While her client was lost in his unpleasant imaginings, the skilled esthetician kept busy, sculpting a feminine form from the scrawny lump of clay she had to work with. After finishing the first round of injections in Emmanuel’s bony chest, she spent a little time expertly plumping the **** boy’s thin lips into something juicy and kissable. While they set, she marveled at how such a small change could transform a countenance that could at times best be described as mean, into a gorgeous visage most eighteen year old girls would kill for. A second round in the budding breasts took them from B-cups to C-cups, but Song’s big sister wasn’t satisfied. She’d have to wait though, otherwise there’d be too much bruising before she could begin round three.

“Almost done.” Eun ran her fingers through the boy’s short hair, looking over his almost naked body. The only things the figure she estimated around five foot ten was wearing were a corset and a little cage around his dick. She didn’t care what the boy did for this to happen, just happy she got to be the one changing him. Giving some arrogant male that thought they ruled their little world breasts felt amazing. Without asking if the person deserved such a fate she projected some of her own feelings. ‘Next time, you can bring this one in during business hours, little sister, as you know the treatment will only last a few weeks.’

With a little time on her hands, Eun heated up a pot of wax, and removed the few sparse patches of hair from Emmanuel’s legs, and armpits. She was surprised there was less body hair to deal with than even Song, and a far cry from the weekly appointments required to epilate Emery. The supervisor made a mental note to bring that up to the makeup artist the next time she showed up twenty minutes late to an appointment at her own place of employment. Her star salesperson’s growth may have slowed dramatically since starting hormones, but the pretty girl still wasn’t as fortunate as some when it came to denuding, and she was definitely sore about it.

After that, it was one more round of injections for the increasingly curvy new girl, and her breasts reached that full D-cup Eun envisioned from the start. That’s when the thorough craftswoman realized that Emmanuel was a little top heavy. Fortunately, or unfortunately if you asked the sleeping beauty, there was a small amount of Rim Jii’s greatest creation left in the device, so Eun’s skilled hands used the remainder to give her client a few shots below the waist, adding a little more curve to the butt and hips to match.

While they waited on Eun to finish up, the two best friends busily scurried about the shop floor, moving all the necessary items from Song’s workstation over to the salon area so they could streamline the rest of their efforts. After redressing their unwilling customer, and carrying his limp body to the chair, everyone had a job to do. Song, for the first time ever, was happy to ply the craft he’d dedicated so many hours to learning. Eun wasn’t exactly thrilled to go back to hair, finding the whole process incredibly tedious, but she couldn’t very well leave it to her inexperienced employees, or their new girlfriend might leave the shop with a few dozen cheap extensions glued directly to her scalp. The duties of keeping an incapacitated person upright in the chair fell to Emery, who employed her particular brand of cleverness by tying Emmanuel to upright with a few thick ropes she sweet talked from the overnight maintenance crew. They were powerless to say no to her winning smile, though if they’d actually met the girl before, they would have known that particular piece of equipment would never be seen again.

While Eun began the arduous process of bonding the dozens and dozens of strands of real human hair to the short cropped locks of their bound project, and Emery snapped a dozen selfies between handing the stylist whatever she requested, Song was busy cleaning the grime from under Emmanuel’s nails, and pushing back his cuticles. The pretty Asian-American teen thought to himself, ‘I wonder what would be hardest to adjust to for Brooks’ here. We’ve got to cram our two months of misery into a much shorter time for him after all. It’s only fair.’

At first he thought of two-inch pointed-tip acrylics, but after sizing the extensions, Song felt a little pang of guilt, not wanting to clown out someone he carried more affection for than he could ever admit. Deciding to scale that back to one, he adjusted the little plastic foundations and began gluing one to each of the ten digits. One layer of acrylic went on each nail, and the hands were placed under a UV light to harden.

Around the same time, Eun had just finished adding every last weft, each in place extending the boy’s hair down to his shoulders, now with a feminine wave. “What kind of style were you girl’s thinking?” Eun asked, unsure of the exact look the other two were envisioning.

“Oo, o, o, oooo!” Emery squealed, raising her hand like she was in school, though not something she ever actually did in any class.

“Bitch, you can just tell her.” Song said, pretending to be annoyed, though actually quite amused at his bestie’s infectious enjoyment.

“I’ve really thought this through,” the girl began, though the others couldn’t imagine that actually being true, “and I was thinking, she works in a trendy clothing store, so she should like, be real trendy, ya know. I know a lot of those girls I’ve been seeing in teen vogue and stuff have highlights and chunky streaks, so like, something like that.”

Eun was flummoxed. She actually received a rationed and reasoned response. Without a word she looked to Song for approval. The nail-tech shrugged, and said, “Sounds good to me.” before returning to applying another layer of acrylic before the next round of curing.

Rim Beauty’s number two took a little time to mix a few chemicals till she’d created a thick, pungent paste to work with. One by one, she’d take a thin strand of hair and stretch it across a foil, before thoroughly coating it with a brush full of her concoction. After that, she’d wrap it up tightly, and move onto the next, repeating the process. This continued until she worked her way to the front, where extra attention was given. Once finished, the experienced beauty professional was grateful she had the forethought to bring a bonnet dryer from home. It would have been too much of a struggle to get the limp body of Emmanuel to one of the hood dryers on the other side of the shop.

While the chemicals worked their magic, Song was finishing up with the lengthening process on his now ex’s nails. Nothing was taking the hard substance off short of a dremel tool, or a belt sander. A pink gel polish came next, and after yet another round of curing was finished with a sponge pressed shimmering powder, adding glitter and shine to the extremely feminine slender fingers. They were pointed and sharp, sculpted with such detail, almost like Song was intent on creating something he’d never let himself want shoved up his ass again.

A half hour had passed when Eun checked the foils, and was satisfied with the level of processing. She said, “I’ve got to fix my face so I can get going as soon as we’re done here, little sister. I need you to be my shampoo girl again. I know I don’t need to tell you to be thorough.”

“Well can you at least help me get her over to the sink?” Song whined, tired himself from his own labors.

“You’ve got Emery to help you, now quit complaining before all my good work is ruined.”

“Huh?” Emery said, only just realizing she heard her name. She had been extremely busy herself, taking what had to be her twentieth selfie that day.

After a struggle getting Emmanuel’s hair rinsed, the duo got him back into the chair, where the other two demanded Emery, pull her own weight, and blowdry the new girl’s hair. Armed with a round brush and a hand dryer, the artificially curly hair beauty used her expertise to style the wavy locks into a center parted ‘do, taking inspiration from the picture that gave her the idea for the color in the first place.

It took several hours, but the finished product was worth every minute. Gleefully, the girls untied the ropes, and removed the IV drip. While waiting for their new girlfriend to wake up and see the fruits of their labors, Emery added the finishing touch, slipping two gold hoops into Emmanuel’s pierced ears, and then touched up the lipstick on the now kissably plump lips.

“Rise and Shine, Emily.”

“Wha…?” The groggy teen heard Song’s words, oozing a saccharine sweetness. He went to rub his eyes, only to have his hands swatted away. The clicking sounds when his fingers touched weren’t the only things that seemed out of place. It was almost as though someone was tickling his cheeks with feathers. Emmanuel asked, “Who’s Emily?”

“You are, Silly.” Emery giggled. “Don’t you dare mess up my work, either. I really don’t want to have to do it again.”

“Wait…what?” Reality came crashing back in as the smells, and the bright fluorescent lights, told the confused boy that he wasn’t in his apartment anymore. He blinked through foggy eyes, his lashes feeling heavy, and foreign, like they’d doubled in length. As the world came into focus, Emmanuel saw before him a girl, one just as pretty as either of his girlfriends, though completely unfamiliar. Her perfectly made up face looked just as confused as he felt. Her brown wavy hair was cute and trendy with gorgeous highlights and a blond streak in the long chin length bangs that parted down the middle. “I am?” As the words escaped Emmanuel’s lips, the girl’s mouth moved just the same. Only then did the befuddled boy realize that he was looking into a mirror, and that pretty girl was him. “Holy shit.” It was only a whisper, but that phrase spoke volumes to the horror that flooded the new girl’s mind. “What did you do?”

“We balanced the scales, EMILY.” Song answered, putting extra emphasis on what was to be their victim’s new name.

“How could you do this to me?” Emmanuel asked, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, eyes that darted back and forth between his reflection, and Song's face growing more red by the second.

“How could we do this to you?!” Song screamed, the question back into the boy turned girl’s face, as incredulous as he was furious. “You did this to us! You and that psychotic bitch! You gave me, and Emery breasts, and had us parade around like vapid bimbos. Hell, you broke Emery!

“Yeah!” Emery agreed, then realizing she heard her name, and not quite getting why. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry about it, beautiful. Just let me do the talking.” Song gave his bestie a gentle squeeze on the arm for comfort, and then returned to his diatribe, he was calmer now but each word dripping with just as much venom. “Do you know how disgusting it was to have your thick cock in my mouth? Having you praise me for being a good cocksucker was humiliating. Like I needed your approval! God, I fucking hate you so much!" Though Song couldn’t admit it, the only person he hated more was himself for letting it get this far, for letting himself feel those things he wasn’t supposed to feel.

Emmanuel didn’t know what to make of it. The whole speech coming from this diminutive girl, her adorable voice bearing so much hatred, seemed to indicate that she didn’t want to be a girl, but at the same time seemed as though she’d rather have been someone else’s girl. The now feminized teen’s thoughts ran one-thousand miles an hour. 'She doesn’t love me... she hates me... Wait! Does that mean I **** her!? No, no she had to have wanted it. She demanded my cock. She asked if she did a good job. She liked it.. didn't she?' He sputtered, “B-but…I…I love…I loved you.” There was too much going on for Emmanuel’s still foggy brain to grasp. He hadn’t even come to terms with how he looked and what actual changes took place when Song laid into him. One thing he was very aware of as he shifted in the seat was the new heavy feminine assets on his chest. The recently created D-cup artificial breasts made his skin feel like it was stretched to the limit, like he’d been stung by an insect.

Song strolled across the room with an arrogance he thought he’d lost. In his mind, Emmanuel was James Bond, and he was Goldfinger, with the spy finally in his clutches. The way he sashayed across the room, and the chirp of his soprano voice, even his conflicted feelings towards his prisoner, instead painted the picture of a Pussy Galore. “Oh, please. You expect me to believe you, and that bitch playing Build-a-Bear with your new fuck dolls is love. Don’t make me laugh. Pretend you’re the victim here all you want, but the reality is, you were just as guilty as us that day, and yet somehow you’ve only benefited from it while we were the ones suffering. Bianca might be nuts, but she was right about one thing. I understand what it’s like to be objectified, and I will never do that to a girl again, even when I get my pants back. I just think it’s only fair that you learn the same lesson.”

“But I loved you…You loved me…I saw it…” Emmanuel’s sentence trailed off as his heart broke into a thousand pieces.

“You saw what you wanted to see.” Song spat back. “Let me make myself clear. You’re not going to sweet talk your way out of this like I know you’re so good at. It won’t work on me anymore. I’m sure you’ve noticed we locked that disgusting cock up, and if you want its freedom then you better do as you’re told. I’ve hidden the key away, and frankly I don’t care if Bianca has us thrown in jail now. If she does, just know you’ll be there with us, looking just as pretty as you do right now. It’s mutually assured destruction, gorgeous.” Song made a point to use the same pet name that his ex always used for him. “Now come along, Emily. My big sister is already outside waiting to lock up, and I don’t want to keep her waiting. You’ve got a big date anyway, and it’s rude to be late.”