Epilog - Song Kelly Rim

Epilog - Song Kelly Rim

Song Kelly Rim was marching around the shop, barking orders like the second coming of Grace, positive that if he just kept it all up a little longer, his mother would finally respect him enough to let him be a boy again. ‘You’ve got to try harder, Song.’ he told himself every morning. The threat of an orchiectomy, or vaginoplasty, just some kind of bottom surgery occupied the concerned boy’s attention, both words frequently on Grace’s lips as of late, as well as her search history.

The other nail-techs in the shop had taken to calling Song the little-tyrant, Eun being upgraded to big-tyrant by default. No shortage of ego, the boy, who neither looked, moved, nor sounded as such, was officially number three in the business after all, though he thought himself the number two’s number two, a way of artificially inflating his rank in his head. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

“Your senior photos arrived in the mail today, little star.” Grace said as she swept in through the backdoor, as glamorous as always. She tossed the prints onto the desk, where each of the staff could come by, and praise her baby to her face. The women weren’t lying when they said she was gorgeous, but that didn’t mean they weren’t resentful, each knowing that the girl they all knew had a penis was perhaps the prettiest one in the shop. The overbearing mother scrutinized each picture for the tenth time that day, finally asking, “Do you think we need to do reshoots, honey?”

“No, Mummy.” Song said, praying that would be good enough to slow down the bulldozer that was his mom. He’d watched her do this with the digital copies for two weeks leading up to today. She just didn’t quit. Yet again he repeated, “They’re all lovely, Mummy, and I just adore them. Can we keep these, please?” The growing empathy in the youth meant he didn’t want to put that poor photographer through another day of the callous businesswoman second guessing every decision he made, and Song’s residual selfishness meant he definitely didn’t want to do it either.

“If you insist, Song,” Grace said, still eyeing the eight by ten suspiciously, “but I don’t think they did you justice. You’re far more beautiful than this. It didn’t quite capture your essence. Maybe I should talk to someone who works with Vogue.”

He hated it, but it filled the girlish boy’s heart with pride as he listened to his mother gush over him like that, almost enough to let her do just that, but sense won out and one more time, he assured her the photographs were excellent. “You should use that money to treat you and Daddy to a nice date night.”

It had been almost nine months since that fateful day when he and Emery did their best impression of two dogs fighting over a sex toy. While the two finished up their performance, Theo texted he’d arrived and was waiting for Emily and her friends, so Bianca dismissed Emmanuel, saying he didn’t have to wait for the other two. After he’d hurried off, the co-conspirators were left to face the consequences of their actions.

The quota tally reset back to zero, and they were expected to start all over again, only without their boyfriend serving up his cock on a silver platter. They’d have to find the dick themselves from now on. When Bianca finally let the two leave, they were told that they could remove the butt-plugs when they got home, but it was made clear they could expect to suffer through another day each time they didn’t come back with the key. As Song stepped out into the parking lot, the last thing he expected to see was Emily, and Theo parked on the curb, waiting patiently while talking about whatever hipster music they were listening to. The person he’d just **** to be a girl, looking out for their friends, even after he’d been so awful seemed illogical, but the swelling in his backside was enough to push him out of his comfort zone, and into the backseat of two people he didn’t quite trust.

Maybe it was Theo being so incredibly nice when he introduced himself, and then opening the door for each of the girls, maybe it the fact that Emily had only shown sympathy since they got off the bus, and maybe just maybe it was just the realization that Emmanuel probably did actually love him for whatever that was worth, but whatever the case, once the car was cruising down the freeway, and the stereo was cranked as loud as the two up front singing along could stand, Song cried, a bigger cry than he’d let himself cry in a long time. Perhaps that was why the feminized youth told Emily they needed to talk inside briefly, leaving the other two to discuss other foods that could be made into tacos. Inside, there was no conversation to be had, just Song placing a key into his ex’s hand, and then shoving them out the door. He could have let the asshole suffer one more day, but he didn’t. Having completed his act of compassion for the decade, Song washed his makeup off, finished his skincare routine, popped out the butt-plug, and fell asleep early, his heart just a little lighter.

Before re-enrolling her daughter for her senior year, Grace had her name legally changed. It wasn’t much, just the middle name from Jae to Kelly, the calculating woman using the same reasoning as when she changed her own. If her little star was going to take over the business, she was going to need to begin establishing herself as a brand, and that little bit of paperwork was the first step. Each certificate hanging in Song’s station needed to be updated, of which there were many, the collection still growing.

A frequent occurrence was Eun coming over for a visit on the weekends, and the Rim family singing Karaoke till the sun set, all save Jii who tolerated the festivities as much as he could, reading science periodicals, and the like, while the women in his life danced around him as though he was a maypole. Though having to play the part of the perfect daughter, Song’s family life had been going well overall. This was in stark contrast to his love life, though.

There was a month of procrastination after the quota reset, but that all changed when Grace started talking about how after a few years, with a good enough essay about persevering through the trans experience, her daughter could easily get into a top tier school regardless of how bad her high school GPA was. Hearing that, Song needed to be a boy again, and he needed to do it fast.

First, he set up a Tinder account, and started swiping. The goal being efficiency, one might think that the practical teen would say yes to everyone, and finish the quota as quickly as possible. For whatever reason, Song’s ego wouldn’t allow him to blow anybody he deemed as ugly though, so that slowed things down dramatically. Slowly but surely the boys added up, each date snapping a photo of the cute girl going down on them with her phone, some even capturing it on video. Song did this to send the evidence to Bianca, but it led to him gaining a reputation around the mall as the slutty rich girl with the exhibitionism kink, whose mom owned the salon.

Around the same time, everyday Song’s mother was trying to arrange a date for him with the sons of many of the affluent Korean families that populated the area. Eventually he relented, and when prom rolled around, he was escorted by Junsu Yoon, a child of one of his father’s investors. The boy was cute enough, and while there wasn’t much talking on the date, Song gave him fellacio, killing two birds with one stone. One, there was another pic to send to the crazy white bitch, and two, Junsu could report back to his mom that Song was a pure, demure, young lady who was worth taking it slow for. That would hopefully save a few months of Grace’s prodding at least. Unfortunately this problem solving came with a new frustration. Song’s sex drive might have greatly diminished in the time he’d been on hormones, but a trickling stream will shatter a dam given enough time. The almost daily consumption of cum did little to appease his own libido.

So many cocks in his mouth had the boy more horny than he’d been in ages. Helping men get off, them grunting and groaning in pleasure, and then telling him how good it felt, was doing something to him. ‘I don’t like men!’ he screamed in his head, while going down on the nerdy boy behind the dance hall. ‘Sucking all these dicks is screwing with me. I really need to finish this quota as soon as possible. I don’t think I can take this much longer.’ He should have been worried about ruining the glittery poofy dress, since his mother would surely want to preserve the memento, but instead his thoughts were occupied by the stirrings in his loins. While there wasn’t an erection, that didn’t mean the thing was dead. The regal beauty had to fight the urge to stuff his limp noodle into the boy's mouth, lest the boy discover his secret, and ruin his mother’s reputation. It didn’t matter how much the woman doted on her little star, Song knew that was the quickest way to wind up living on the street. When the other kids were headed to the afterparty, Song was in the backseat of an Uber, moping about the night while slumped down in the poofy dress, tearing off his giant glittering earrings, and trying to figure out a way to fast track the rest of this nonsense.

Coming up with fifty different plans, some of which consisted of Ocean’s Eleven levels of convoluted nonsense, only one seemed reasonable, and Song didn’t like it one bit. He needed more points, and he needed them fast. There was only one way to do that…anal. Lying in bed with his hair in pigtails, face caked in a green mud mask, the increasingly girlish boy returned to the dating app with new fervor. When messaging back and forth with the guys, he probably should have known that the only honest answers he’d get were the ones he didn’t want to hear, the question being, “How big is your dick?”

The first date was with a guy who seemed normal enough. Apparently he was a star athlete, and he didn’t seem to have a problem with trans girls. Thinking of how good Theo treated Emily, Song hoped for the best, the path of least resistance being one guy, a few times, and then bam, done. That went out the window when the jock kept calling him mommy, and then cried after busting his load into Song’s hole.

The feminized boy almost gave up right there, resigned to one day suffering through his mom picking out his wedding china. The soreness in his backside was a painful reminder of his shame, but his threshold had grown much more than he realized.

A couple of days later, Song regrouped and tried again, matching with a guy that worked at the phone kiosk in the mall. This time, Song refused to relinquish any control. The boy was ordered, not asked, to procure a hotel room. The previous excursion taking place at the jock’s creepy trailer park home, with his nana sleeping in her armchair in the living room, was an experience the feminized youth didn’t wish to recreate.

Arriving at the hotel, the Korean teen was all business, pushing the boy back onto the bed before he could properly introduce himself. Song unbuttoned the guy's jeans, yanked his pants down to his ankles, hiked up his skirt to reveal he wasn’t wearing any undies, and then climbed on top. The date was already ready to go, and Song had made use of the butt plug still tucked under his bed, so slipping the boy’s erection inside of him came easy this time. Instead of being a pillow princess, Song took command, and started pumping himself up and down on the member. The feminized boy had no time for holding a cock or pushing it inside of him. He only focused only on two goals, desperately needing to satisfy the growing urge, and using the boy attached to the member as a way to get points so he could go back to being a boy. The phone came out, and in this new position, Song was able to snap the photo himself.

With a newfound sense of control, Song pressed his hands into the man’s stomach as he rode hard for a couple more minutes, until a feeling swelled in his loins, one the pretty boy hadn’t felt since Brooks. “Ah, ah GA! MMMM!” The Korean teen bit their bottom lip as they held in the scream. Finally reaching orgasm, his seed exploded from the little limp cock all over the boy’s face, stinging the eyes. While the dude teared up, and squealed, Song was busy laughing to himself, basking in the relief that finally came, and the absurdity of it all. It was then that he realized he already had his photo, and he’d already had his nut, so he didn’t need to stick around any longer. Collecting his purse, the girlish boy strolled out the door with a familiar smug expression, leaving the whining idiot behind him, blue-balled. This is how Song’s reputation went from slut, to slutty cocktease. This didn’t stop the next few from thinking they’d be the stud to show her what she was missing, but each found themselves in the same situation, blue-balled, and alone after watching her wiggle her ass as she walked away. Only one ever tried to stop Song, but quickly learned that was a mistake when he was slapped across the face for his troubles.

One month before graduation, Song received the text he was waiting for.

Bianca: Congratulations, Miss Song! It took a while, but you’ve done it. You set your mind to getting cock, and now you’ve earned your freedom!

Bianca: No more visits after work everyday. No more pics required. The next time you have sex with a guy it will be because you want to. That doesn’t mean you can’t come by and say hello next time you’re out shopping.

Bianca: Just to make sure you understand though, the next time I see you in the women’s dressing room, you better be wearing a skirt, or I promise you’re going to regret it. Best Wishes <3

The very next night the Rim family was enjoying a pleasant dinner, when Song summoned up the courage to broach the subject with his mother. “Umm, Mummy…”

“Yes, little star?” Grace looked at her child, wishing they would stop using umm and ahh when speaking. ‘Maybe I should sign her up for professional elocution lessons.’ she thought.

His mother might have been smiling adoringly, but he was no stranger to the wrath that could hide underneath. It was now or never though. “Umm, Miss Bianca said I was good now, like…I don’t have to be punished anymore. So I was thinking that maybe…” Grace clearly knew what was coming as her face became expressionless. “...maybe I could go back to, you know…” One eyebrow raised on the woman’s gorgeous visage, her chewing slowed. “...a boy…perhaps?”

Rather than responding to her child, Grace turned to her husband, and said, “You know, Papa. I was thinking about letting Song take over day to day operations at Rim East this summer, but she’s clearly not grown up enough yet. We give so much, and she can still be this ungrateful. I guess she still has a long way to go.”

Jii knew better than to open his mouth. He sat there chewing his food silently, letting his wife do all the talking.

“Mom, my gender shouldn’t matter. I’m still just as responsible. I know if you gave me that responsibility, I wouldn’t let you down. Please.” Song wanted…needed to be a boy. His male ego felt so thin it was hardly there at all, yet the mention of being allowed…being trusted to run a store on his own sounded like a dream come true, especially when it came to her approval. He gazed at her hopefully, thinking surely she’d have to understand, but his heart broke when he was met with the same cold eyes he’d seen so often the year before.

“You can do what you want, daughter, but don’t think that means I have to support you. And don’t bother showing up to work if you’re not in proper dress.” Rim didn’t have an actual dress code, but the boy knew exactly what she meant. Tears streaming down his cheeks, Song leapt up from the table without asking to be excused, and ran up the stairs wailing.

The next morning, when it came time to get ready for school, Song dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a polo shirt he’d purchased the day before in anticipation of the pleasant conversation with his parents that didn’t happen. Half optimistically, and half resentfully, the curvy boy thought to himself, ‘She said I could do what I wanted, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’

However it played out in his head, the next day at school wasn’t at all pleasant for the youth. For starters the only tennis shoes left in his closet were pristine white with neon pink laces, having never been worn once up to that point. Walking through the building, his unencumbered breasts bouncing freely hurt not only themselves, but his back as well. Not to mention Song was still moving like he had been conditioned to over the last several months. During first period one guy asked him why he was wearing his brother’s clothes. In second, this girl he used to gab with in the back of class asked if there had been a house fire. Stopping at a store on the way home for some of the greasy snacks he’d long been deprived of, as he checked out, the clerk asked, “Will there be anything else, Miss?” He’d made every effort to present masculine, and it just seemed like the world wasn’t having it. Even trying to go back to his old voice was an exercise in futility, as he could hardly even make a sound anymore that wouldn’t be described as cute.

The next day he was angry. Going to his closet, he began digging through the garments, ready to purge and start anew. The youth still hadn’t purchased any other boy clothes, because clearly he needed to make room first. Pulling out a Dior dress he intended to toss, he looked it over, running his fingers through the fabric. ‘This is a cute dress.’ he thought, taking note of the quality of the piece and deciding it would probably be worth saving to sell later. With that garment avoiding the garbage bag, he moved on next to a blouse. This one Emery gave him, and he knew if he got rid of it, it would hurt her feelings. After that came a pair of black capris. They were the first pair of pants his mother bought him, and he just finished his punishment so he’d finally be able to wear them. They couldn’t go in the bin without seeing a single use. He could at least wear them around the house once. This went on and on, until at the end there were only a few pairs of panties in the bottom of the plastic waste bag, all having a few holes torn around the seams.

With a closet and drawers still full of feminine garb, and only a trash bag full of panties that were ready for replacements anyhow, Song didn’t feel particularly proud of himself. He was ready to turn towards his shoe collection which had grown a bit out of control, almost all heels. “Emery might want some of these and…” Song put back the glossy black Louis Vuitton, red-soled pointed-toe, five-inch pumps on the shelf. His mother had said she wanted to spoil her little star when he brought home his first earned certificate, and it felt a bit wrong to even consider getting rid of the pair. His eyes traced over the rest of the collection. He let out a huff before giving up and taking the trash bag to the garbage bin.

That next morning, after finishing his skincare routine, he checked his reflection, and hated how pale his face looked. “I supposed I could just use a little foundation after all. Well, since I’m doing that then I need a little concealer underneath to hide the dark circles. Okay, now my eyes look sunken in, so I guess a little neutral shadow should be fine.” When all was said and done, it wasn’t quite the full face he was used to, but a person would have to have been blind not to notice the expert work of the pretty teen girl.

Another day went by, and feeling completely alone, Song struggled to get out of bed. It was the first time he’d cut school since the whole ordeal began, but unlike before he didn’t spend the day loitering at the mall. Instead, he just stayed under the covers, and hoped to fall asleep without ever having to wake up again. An attempt at masturbation proved fruitless, still unable to get an erection and all. That might have had to do with him continuing to take his “vitamins” for fear of what the sudden onrush of testosterone would do to his skin. Thinking a little help might be the answer, he opened up Tinder again, complete with a new profile pic, and adjusted the settings to be interested in only women, but no one was biting. Not a single girl had any interest in the cute thing who was clearly a fourteen year old child pretending to be grown up.

In desperation, at one in the morning, two texts were sent out, one to Emery, and one to Emily. Emery responded immediately, saying something about having to ask, but probably not. Emily’s text came in the morning, saying, “You know I have a boyfriend, Song. Are you okay? Do you need to talk?”

An attempt to talk to his mother didn’t go well, her commenting, “I see you’re still going through that phase, when he came down the stairs still wearing the same t-shirt and jeans, unwashed and stinky as they were. Back in his room, alone, and lonely, depressed, and worst of all, absurdly horny, Song knew what he had to do.

First came a shower, washing and conditioning his hair. He was going to shave, realizing he hadn’t needed to in a long time thanks to the beauty treatments he got at Rim. Finding another reason to be sad, he realized not a single whisker had sprouted, and probably never would. He then moved on to moisturizing from top to bottom until he was as silky smooth as the day he was born. Next, Song spent twenty minutes in the mirror cleaning up his eyebrows, so dedicated to the task that his brows were the highest, and most pristine they’d been since that first makeover at the salon. A trip to Tinder came after, and the insecure boy matched with a guy cute enough to meet his rigid standard, almost as attractive as Brooks used to be. As the sun began to set, Song hurried out of the house, hair piled high on his crown while cute curls hung down around his face, itself perfectly made-up, and wearing a little black dress so small the bodice barely covered his pushed up cleavage.

‘I just need to do this one night.’ Song told himself as he took a graceful step in the very heels he’d considered throwing away. ‘After that, it’s back to being a boy. I can get a girlfriend to take care of me. It’s gonna be great.’

At the end of the driveway, the date was waiting patiently, parked on the side of the road just as Song instructed. The two were off. For the first time in a while, Song found himself out with a guy, instead of meeting them at some establishment of ill repute. He licked his lips seductively, making eyes at the rando across the booth, making sure he felt like the beautiful girl across from him was hanging on his every word. The girlish boy stroked one of those manicured nails, in need of a touch-up but not so bad, across the small part of the date’s exposed chest, poking out from the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. “You're funny.” Song purred, lying to inflate the guy's ego. The last dates had all been about one thing, Song wasn’t even sure why he was bothering being flirty.

The older boy was called handsome, smart, and funny, so much that both of his heads were swelling. The guy couldn’t drive back to his dorm room fast enough. Once the girl was securely behind his door, he made sure twice the sock was securely fastened over the doorknob so his roommate absolutely understood they were not to be disturbed.

He watched as the girl slid the straps of her dress over her shoulder, and then wiggled it down, shaking her hips the whole way, only turning to face him once the small piece of lycra hit the floor. A wink, and a wagging finger was all the invitation he needed, and soon enough the pair were in bed together, their tongues exploring each other passionately as he wrestled to remove her bra. Her hand stroked his cock, and it swole more than he thought possible, eager to find its way into this beauty’s puckering rosebud.

“Mmm someone is happy to see me.” Feeling the reaction and seeing it gave Song a small thrill that this man did desire him. All week he felt rejection at who he was and here in bed with this young man, Song was wanted.

The gorgeous creature said she didn’t want her sex touched, looking for anal first and foremost, and that guy was completely fine with that. She lubed him up, and then shoved him in, not even taking the time to use a condom.

While he thrust in and out, she spoke with her sexy little voice. “Pound me, Daddy!” He felt his firm member press into her while his warm hands grasped about her smooth porcelain skinned body. “Mmmm” The feminine teen clenched the muscles in her rear to hug the cock herself before letting go.

“Anything you want, darlin’!” he replied, feeling like he was going to bust almost immediately.

She wailed, “Tell me I’m sexy!”

Only too happy to comply, he shouted, “You’re so fucking sexy!”

The rhythm accelerated, and she ran her nails through his hair, and down his back. “Tell me how bad you want me!”

Through panting breaths, he grunted, “I want you so fucking bad. I want you so…fucking…BAD!”

She squealed, flushing with pleasure, and wrapped her toned legs around his hips, as he continued to thrust inside of her. “If you want me so bad, then cum for me. You want to cum for me, don’t you?”

Unable to speak, the guy nodded his head, and began pounding in earnest, her breasts bouncing up into her chin with each thrust. The pressure built up, and he couldn’t contain it anymore. He launched his seed inside of her with the **** of a rocket on its way to space.

Mid-orgasm, she shouted, “Tell me you love me!”

The guy didn’t say a word. In an instant the situation had changed, and he was left speechless. A moment passed before he finally spoke. “Look, we just met. I mean you’re cool, but…”

He could see in her eyes that the girl hated herself, as her tears welled up. When she rushed from the bed, and fought her way back into the dress, nearly tearing the flimsy fabric. Her expression turned to one of rage, and she spat the demand, “Just take me home!” before her voice softened, “Please.”

After being dropped off at the end of his drive-way, Song stepped out into the nighttime chill, feeling the man’s ejaculate spilling from his asshole into his panties. As he trudged to the front door, nothing could have stopped the tears. He cried like he never had before, not once in his life. If anyone ever believed Song had no soul, they would have changed their mind at that moment. Even Bianca would have felt pity for the feminized boy. At his lowest low, he struggled to find the courage to open the front door, and was left at three a.m., standing on the porch, completely a mess, and just done. For the first time in his life, he was truly done fighting.

That was when the door swung open, and there stood Grace, her heart breaking. She could plainly see her child’s suffering, and wanted more than anything for her to never have to feel that way again. Tough love had been necessary, and she knew it was for the girl’s own good, but right now, she only wanted to take away the pain, and she’d have done anything. If she wanted pants, she’d buy her a factory. Anything for her little star. “I know we need to talk, little star. Just tell me what you need. Anything.”

Lip quivering, Song threw his arms around his mom, and cried for a full minute before speaking. Eventually calm enough to talk, he asked, “Mummy, is that Yoon boy still wanting to set up another date?” The boy that took him to prom had been nice and he’d been the first person Song had dated that his mother liked. Arms around her, he needed her approval. He needed to feel real affection. “Also, I, ahh, really want to come back to work. I miss everybody, and I miss you. I love you, Mummy. I’ll be a good girl from now on, I promise.”

Two weeks later, we find ourselves back in Rim beauty, Song just having assured his mother the photos were perfect. As his shift ended, he sat down in the chair for a special makeover from his big sister, Eun. They wanted him to look his best for the arranged meeting with Junsu. A fresh cut would be needed when little Miss Song walked across the stage to finally get her diploma next weekend, so it was as good a time as any. Leaving the shop looking, and feeling like a million bucks, Song jumped into his BMW, and started the engine, then checked his lipstick in the rearview one final time. Both hands on the wheel, and a high-heeled foot on the pedal, he started to drive to the meeting with the boy’s family.

He thought happily to himself, ‘You’re doing it, Song. Way to kill it. In a few months from now Mummy will see just how much you’ve matured, and she’ll let you take over Rim East. You’ll be just like Eun then. If you do that job well, she’ll see how much you’ve grown up, and she’ll be so proud of you, you can finally do it. After that, of course you can go back to being a boy again. Soon. Real soon. Just keep your nose down, and you can do it.