Chapter 7

As the girls crossed the parking lot to Emery’s stepmom’s van, the fog began to lift for Emmanuel, and he tried to piece together exactly how his journey had led him to where he was. The day before, for what was the first time in his life, the boy considered himself one of the luckiest guys he knew. He had a good job, completely above board, making more money than he ever did as an accomplice to the petty, and now seemingly pointless crimes of his pseudo-gang. Things seemed to be going well for his mother at work, and lately they’d been able to spend more time together. The woman who’d held the perpetual threat of prison assured him their journey was coming to an end soon. Most of all, he had two beautiful girlfriends, ones he was head over heels for, a situation most high schoolers would kill to find themselves in. He loved them, and they loved him…at least he thought they did. That was until tonight.

In that particular moment, he was very aware things were different. The jiggle of his new curves bouncing up and down in the restrictive unfamiliar brassiere, and the cool stainless steel of the imprisoning cock cage told him those two angelic creatures may very well have actually been devils, and they most certainly did not love him. As they approached the vehicle, Emmanuel caught sight of his reflection, and as the newly created Emily stared back at him, any bravery he had left flew out the window. Fight or flight. He settled on flight.

As the feminized boy turned to flee, Emery noticed in the knick of time, and threw her arms around their captive, only for Emmanuel’s fight response to kick in, and his set of pearly whites sank into her arm for her troubles. “She fucking bit me!” the blonde squealed.

Once released, the terrified youth turned and spilled backwards in the unfamiliar heels, landing on his inflated tuchus, the tender flesh still smarting from the injections just a few hours prior. The sight of Emery with tears welling in the corners of her eyes while rubbing her forearm only triggered that sense of guilt, regardless of whether or not she’d just **** and dressed him as a girl against his will. That affection and adoration couldn’t be erased instantly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” he whimpered, nearly crying himself from the stress of the situation and the realization he’d just hurt someone he cared about.

Song sighed, then strolled over to his new creation, squatting down to meet the now captive eye to eye. Almost sympathetically, he explained, “Look, Emily. We’re not trying to hurt you. We just want to make things fair. You need to learn the same lessons we did.” The pretty Korean teen offered a hand. The boy looked at it like it was a snake ready to bite. Cautiously, he let his now ex help pull him to his heeled feet. Song continued, “This will be much easier if you just do as told. Honestly, you probably want to get this over with as quickly as possible, given your predicament.”

“My predicament? Why do you keep calling me Emily?” Emmanuel asked, wondering what more could be done to him at this point.

“Well, you don’t exactly look like an Emmanuel anymore. I would say you can choose another name, but that won't work for what we’ve already set up.” Song peered into the feminized boy’s eyes for half a second practically tasting the look of bewilderment. “Your phone is at your apartment. The last text we sent to your mom was that you two needed to talk about something important. We left a note telling her how you were transgender, and that you were so excited to be going on your first date ever with a very handsome boy. If you’d rather explain yourself to her on your own terms, then you’re going to need your keys back, and you’ll need to get home before she does. Now, I know she gets off work late, but it can’t be that late, so the fastest way for you to do that is to go on your date, and then get the fella to give you a ride home. That’s what I’d do, anyway. This can be as hard, or as easy as you want, Emily.” Song stressed the use of the feminine name. “I know which we’d prefer, but it’s up to you. What’s it going to be?” Song crossed his arms and expectantly tapped his high-heeled foot on the pavement, waiting for an answer.

Without a word, Emmanuel stood there, seemingly hoping a giant eagle would swoop down from the sky and carry him away, but when that didn’t happen, he settled on climbing into the backseat with Song. ‘Emily.’ He rolled the name around in his head, the situation feeling surreal. Every move of his body caused his enhanced chest to bounce, causing him to reach up and cup his new assets, amazed by what he felt. ‘How big are these?...they can’t be real.’ Emmanuel thought, not remembering the fact his male peers transformed into buxom girls over the course of but a few hours. He asked,“So what exactly am I supposed to do?” dreading the events to come.

“Well you certainly can’t talk like this.” Song replied, pointing to his mouth as he deepened his pitch, trying to find the sound of his old voice…Jae’s voice, but instead it sounded like a girl doing a bad impression of her shitty boyfriend refusing to put down the toilet seat. Hearing the words escape his lips, the diminutive teen cringed. Truly, the way he spoke before was just as practiced as his sing-song lilt now. Insecure of his voice, the youth made a special effort to deepen his pitch to match any other male in the room, fully monotone. Tough guys in movies showed as little emotion as possible after all. They always say, if you don’t use it, you lose it, and that was proving to be the case.

Upon hearing the instruction, Emmanuel’s thoughts drifted back to a time when he and Song were watching television on his couch, the pretty teen’s head laid in his lap. Something particularly amusing happened on the show and suddenly his girlfriend was in a fit of giggles. Her laughter made him want to kiss her and he felt compelled to tell her how much he enjoyed the sound of her being happy. “Your voice is so cute now. Like the change is just amazing.” The comment hadn’t come out as smoothly as he wanted, noticing something akin to shame spreading over Song’s face. He knew he’d just made a mistake. At the time he thought, ‘I must have just triggered her dysphoria.’ mentally kicking himself for being such an asshole. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“It’s okay.” Song replied, trying to brush it off. Deciding to try to turn it back on the boy he sat up, and placed his hands on his hips, haughtily replying, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Like this?” Emmanuel squeaked, trying to break the tension. At the very least, he was happy he brought joy back to that gorgeous face.

“Eww, no.” Song said, an exaggerated grimace barely covering his obvious amusement. He sat up from Emmanuel’s lap, then demonstrated, “More like this.”

What followed was Song doing his best impression of his mother and her victorian governess like elocution lessons. One instruction followed another, Emmanuel doing his best to keep up, and follow along. ‘Anything to make my girl happy.’ he thought.

“Raise your larynx.” “Breath with your diaphragm.” “Not so breathy.” “Picture your voice in the roof of your mouth.” “Speak clearly.” “Don’t focus so much on the pitch.” “Higher doesn’t mean more feminine.”

“But, your voice is pretty high.” Emmanuel said confused, again bringing a blush to the pretty youth’s cheeks. In response the drills were only that much more relentless. By the time Song was finished with him, the boy could speak in a halfway passable feminine tone, though it definitely didn’t match his appearance at all.

While Emmanuel had been unaware of Song’s true thoughts and motivations, to him this had always been a fond memory. Just another funny moment between the pair that were falling for each other, but in hindsight he wasn’t so sure anymore. His mind back in the van, while Emery danced, and wiggled in the driver's seat, singing along badly and shamelessly to the radio, he gazed into Song’s dark eyes, and asked, "Didn't we have fun? Did I really hurt the both of you?"

Song, not a complete monster, felt a bit of guilt in the moment. His hand moved to touch Emmanuel’s face, almost saying they did before snapping back to reality. "Your finger up my ass wasn't fun, so yeah...let’s go with hurt. Now you need to go through a little hurt too." The dress wearing boy cringed at his own poor use of grammar to drive the point home.

Emmanuel, ever the glutton for punishment, with his newfound perspective of his relationship with the girls, began to believe Song was right. Just like with his family, just like with his friends, this and everything else was all his fault. It wasn’t fair for the other two to have to go through this when he didn’t. It wasn’t fair that his life seemed to be getting so much better when Song was actually miserable. It wasn’t fair that he had the time of his life while his **** girlfriends were made to suck his dick. Accepting his fate, and desiring penance, Emmanuel found that same girlish voice, soft but not weak, not sharp but not deep, and said, “You’re right. I do deserve this. I’m sorry.”

It was then that Emery, not listening to a thing going on in the backseat, swung the van recklessly into a parking space, and then gleefully shouted, “We’re here!” After jumping out of the vehicle Emery ran around to the side and swung open the sliding door. She tossed the keys to Song and grabbed Emmanuel by the hand pulling him to his feet. “Song, make sure I don't get towed again, or my dad will be so pissed, he won't take me shopping when he comes back home this week. C’mon, Milly! Let's go!”

Emmanuel cringed as he heard the girl do what she was best at, coming up with a nickname that was doomed to stick in her head. For a brief moment he considered trying to bolt again, to find a way home, but the new emotional weight on his shoulders kept him compliant. He only hoped that once he'd paid his debt, she'd stop using it. “What are we doing, Emery?”

As though suddenly realizing nobody was capable of reading her mind, she chuckled, spinning around to face the skirted boy while walking backwards, answering, “Oh right! There's this bar, restaurant, pool table place that some college kids go to around here. It's in the middle of the shopping center so we gotta do some walking. It's pretty here though. I'm gonna throw a penny in the fountain when we pass it.”

The **** girl shook their head, the feeling of the large earrings, the hair, and the heavy chest coming to the forefront of their mind from the simple action, then clarified what they meant, “No, I mean like why. Like why are you taking me there? You guys were talking about a date, right?”

Emery bonked herself on the forehead, and laughed. “Sorry, Milly. I'm such a ditz, sometimes. I set you up with my friend, Theo. He's cool. Very handsome…if you're into that sort of thing.” While the blonde went on, she found herself checking out the new girl, finding her much more attractive than she ever did Manny. Milly looked like a girl, and a pretty one at that. She sounded like a girl. That was all Emery's brain needed to file Emily as a girl, right next to Song and herself. Every alluring curve drew her attention, biting her lip as her eyes made their way down to Milly's smooth creamy legs.

While Emmanuel followed along slowly, trying to familiarize himself with tall shoes, he suddenly became very aware of how he carried himself. Fear of discovery had him worried if the way he took steps was giving him away. Noticing how Emery swung her hips in front of him, the boy turned girl thought about how Emery walked backwards in shoes with a thinner and taller heel, with ease to boot, and tried to emulate her stride. He swung the newly gained mass in his backside cartoonishly, causing him to tumble to the ground like a fawn taking its first steps, all the while watching his more experienced friend bolt ahead. He cried out, “Emery, help!”

The girl finally noticed she'd been rambling to herself for a few minutes, and that Milly was sitting on the ground thirty feet behind her, holding her skirt down over her panties with both hands, a bright blush flushing her cheeks. “Oh you poor girl.” she said, expertly sprinting in her pumps to help her the new girl up. "Rose, my stepmom," Emery clarified as she often did, despite Emmanuel being plenty familiar with the woman, "helped me walk better. She said I moved like an ogre, donchaknow, or something, and I was thinking about calling her Mom. I think she would like that. What do you think, Milly? Wait, we were talking about how you should walk.” The embarrassed boy couldn't help laughing a little hearing Emery slip into and out of her stepmother's Minnesota accent effortlessly.

After being helped to his feet, Emmanuel rubbed his sore backside, trying to soothe the pain, feeling the feminine panties against his skin. “Yeah, I think I could use some pointers.”

"My first day in heels I had stilettos, so you’re lucky, I mean look at your legs, you know you're lucky.” Emanuel definitely didn't feel lucky.

For the next five minutes the two walked up and down the sidewalk through the stucco alley until Emmanuel could keep up with his ex, though just barely. The whole time however, his ankles, toes, and calves were screaming at him. Good enough was good enough though, and eventually the pair found their way to the fountain Emery was so excited to visit. Sitting on the concrete edge, happy to get off the evil shoes for just a moment, Emmanuel had to ask, “Emery, you like being a girl, don't you? I mean, you're trans, right? I really never wanted to **** you to be anything, I swear.”

The beautiful creature pressed her finger to her lips, as she thought about it for a moment. Anyone gazing upon her perplexed expression would have had a hard time imagining she'd ever been anything other than the pretty girl she was now. “Like, I don't know if I'm trans. I just, like, know I like looking like this way more than I looked before. And um, also before, I kinda hated spending any time in the mirror, and I never got why people took pictures of themselves, ya know. Like, my body always felt kinda weird and outta place, so I just tried to ignore it and have fun, ya know? Still, it kinda sucked sometimes, but I don't really feel like that anymore, so…yeah, I like this better. Don't know about trans or whatever though. Still, I shoulda been allowed to do this on my own. This poofy hair is really annoying and I wish I could wear shorts more like other girls. I really miss being comfy. Like, so what if I want to go to the store in my pajamas. Oh, but, like, sundresses feel great! You are going to love them!”

After hearing her explanation Emmanuel thought Emery was describing exactly what being trans was, but decided not to press the issue or take the time to correct her. He was positive he would not be wearing a sundress or any other type of dress after this night. One thing he was certain of after spending just a few hours in his new outfit was that having the freedom to take it off when one wanted to was probably a dream for the beauty as long as she'd been stuck living up to Bianca's rigid standards. Standards he also now realized the woman didn't hold herself to.

Finished with her side quest, Emery finally led Emmanuel the rest of the way to their destination. On the elevated patio, there stood a boy, one who appeared to be checking his phone over and over again. He only raised his head when Emery jubilantly yelled, “Hey Theo!” and then waved her arms around Emily as though she was a prize on The Price is Right, before shouting, “Ta-da!”