Epilog

Right after the date Song hurried upstairs, and stripped before jumping in the shower and letting the steamy water beat down on his head. He felt dirty. Much to his disappointment he discovered that it wasn’t the kind of dirty a person could wash away with a little soap. Scrub as he might, that sensation wouldn’t dissipate.

All through the next morning, and into the afternoon, no matter how many times the feminized boy brushed his teeth, no matter how much garlic he’d eaten, He could still taste Emmanuel’s kiss. This was supposed to be his day off. Finally he had the house to himself.

His mother was in meetings all day, so nobody was shoving a karaoke mic into his face, or making passive aggressive comments about his lack of makeup. His father was who knows where, not having been around the house as much lately. Song wondered if the man was busy dreaming up some new creation, or if he simply couldn’t bring himself to set eyes upon the sissy his son had become.

Whatever the case, it was the ideal situation. Song could do whatever he wanted. The tv was all his. So were the potato chips his dad stashed in the garage. Even the girlish pajamas could at least be described as comfy. He was supposed to be free, but Song just couldn’t relax. Dwelling on his circumstances, he didn’t realize the day faded into night, and while the tv had been on the entire time, he couldn’t have told anybody a single thing that had been playing.

It was all too much. Even the orgasm, a thing he’d been craving for weeks, was twisted into a perverted version of pleasure. Sure, it felt good, but that didn’t mean it was supposed to. Song thought Emmanuel sure seemed to like it. ‘Is Brooks gay?’ Song wondered trying to make sense of how a guy could get off with a boy like himself and not be. ‘Wait, am I gay?’ The realization that he was equally guilty of cumming with a guy slapped him across the face.

Song didn’t have time to be mortified, as all throughout the house, the landline started ringing, the caller ID popping up on the tv. ‘Marling?’ the youth thought, trying to place the surname, before remembering where he’d heard it before. April Marling was a girl Song dated for a few months in prep school. Her family was upper-middle class with a strong desire for social advancement, and at a young age she learned the most efficient way to do that was marrying up. The girl was relentless. When Song dumped her, he wasn’t quite the callous ass he’d later become, so he tried to soften the blow with a simple, “I still want to be friends.” His “friend” still called him so often, the boy had to change his phone number, and then for the rest of that school year he had to dodge her in the halls. It was a situation where being a head shorter than most of the other kids didn’t hurt, the teen easily blending into a crowd.

Song’s first thought after seeing her name, was to lament his parents’ desire to hang onto to something as archaic as a home phone for reasons he couldn’t make sense of. The only people who ever seemed to be on the other end were telemarketers, and now one gold-digger who didn’t know how to take a hint. As the device continued to ring, Song waited for it to go to voicemail, but as he did that the gears started to turn. Maybe he should answer. He didn’t have to meet the girl or anything, but a little harmless flirting might help him feel a little more like the young man he was. Why not?

“Hello. Rim residence.” he answered, the scene already playing out in his mind. In just a minute, he’d have all the validation he needed, and then he could blow her off. No harm, no foul.

“Mrs Rim, is that you? This is April Marling. Long time no see! You sound so young! I can only hope I age as gracefully as you. Is Jae around?” The girl didn’t remember the near fifty year old’s voice being that bright, but with no other women in the home, who else could it be?

Song immediately slammed down the receiver, and shuddered. Right then it dawned on him that Emmanuel wasn’t gay at all. Whether the girlish boy liked it or not, he knew nobody looked at him and saw anything but female anymore. The sky had begun to darken, and through the window out to the backyard, he could see his reflection. Even without all the makeup, he himself didn't even see a boy. Then and there, he knew this had to stop, and as counterintuitive as it was, the quickest way for that to happen was to keep Brooks happy. Remembering he’d been silent all day, Song rushed to his smartphone to send a text.

Song: Hi Emmanuel! I hope your day went well!! Just wanted you to know, I think you’re a great guy, and I know you’ll always look out for me. Bianca can be so mean, but I know you’ll protect me. Have a wonderful evening! <3

Emmanuel: Always! Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. My day was pretty empty without getting a look at you, gorgeous

‘Did I lay that on too thick?’ Emmanuel thought to himself, immediately after pressing send. He was lying in bed, his mother was working late, so he had the apartment to himself. His flip phone in hand, the youth started scrolling through the text conversations between him and his girlfriends. In each there were dozens of pictures, at least one sent every day, all flirty selfies. At first he just assumed this was another of Bianca’s torments, but now he wasn’t so sure. The low-res photos might not be very clear, but the boy could swear there was affection, or at the very least the lust in the girl’s eyes.

The previous night with Song turned out to be a lot more fun than he was expecting. Even though it started kind of rough, the black button-down in his laundry hamper assured him she had a good time. The transformation seemed to happen overnight, but he’d take the new Song over Jae any day. Emmanuel always thought his friend must be in a lot of pain to feel the need to act out like that. It was practically a tired cliche that short guys felt insecure in their masculinity, but Song seemed to take that to another level. For Emmanuel, it was now extremely clear as to why. If he had anything to do with it, she’d never have to feel that way again. He’d make sure she knew she was allowed to, and appreciate for, being the elegant, blossoming young woman that she was. At the very least the concerned boyfriend could take solace in the fact that she was starting to demonstrate real positive emotions. He’d never seen her smile so much before.

Emery certainly didn’t need any help with that. That girl knew just how beautiful, and desired she was. Emmanuel wasn’t the type to feel like less of a man because his girlfriend wanted to steer the ship. Still, he didn’t expect to enjoy being dragged around at some lady’s whim, especially as erratic as Emery’s were. Though it didn’t hurt when one of those involved giving the teen his first blowjob, and best orgasm of his life. The girl could be exhausting, and nearly impossible to keep up with. Stopping her from drinking bleach must’ve been a constant worry when she was a child. Honestly, it was kind of a worry for him now. All she had to do was wink, and say that pet name he was finally starting to like, “Manny” and suddenly it was all worth it.

Emmanuel wasn’t sure if the two were really in love with him, but he was definitely starting to fall for both. As he stared longingly at the photo of the blonde, his hand started finding its way underneath the waistband of his boxers, when suddenly that all too frequent guilt swooped in and ruined his fun. His mind reasoned that it wasn’t right to jerk off to a girl without, at the very least, telling her goodnight first. He decided to shoot his other girlfriend a quick, equally cheesy, text.

Emmanuel: Hey, beautiful! Missed seeing you at work today, but I wanted you to know I was thinking about you. I hope your day was as wonderful as you. I had the time of my life on our picnic. Can’t wait to do it again

Emery: Me too! That was a lot of fun!! ;P I’ve got my hands full, but I’ll see you tomorrow at work.

Emery: well not your work but the building we both work in

Emery: or on the way maybe?

Emery: ok I gott

Just then Abner spit up on Emer’s nice new dress. The ditzy boy pressed send without thinking about it, and then set the baby in his playpen, leaving him to scream while he changed into fresh pajamas.

It was one of those rare occasions when Emer’s father passed by home on his sales route that week. That meant a Wednesday where he could get a little extra time with his family. Emer thought it was old people cute when his dad and stepmom were sitting on the couch making eyes at each other. However, when he suggested they take advantage of the situation and enjoy a night out together, that didn’t mean he was volunteering to babysit.

It wasn’t like he didn’t love his little brother, but he definitely didn’t love the work that came with him. The baby somehow ate more than he did. For the longest time, Emer would say hello to Rose, pick up his baby brother, and blow a fart noise into his tummy, then put him back down and get back to the important work of slacking off with his friends. Lately however, Rose was suddenly talking about how much he’d matured. Getting a job, taking steps to find happiness, it all had the woman thinking Emery was ready for more responsibility, and some of that was helping out with familial responsibilities. That didn’t mean anything to Emer though. It just felt like a punishment he wasn’t sure why he was getting.

That day at work was long, and taxing. Mary’s days off were usually the hardest after all, and people expected him to pick up the slack. All he wanted to do when he got home was play video games, but after opening his big mouth, the older sibling instead had to make airplane sounds while sending spoonfuls of mush into his brother’s gaping mouth. At least the mush kind of tasted good.

Things seemed to be going without incident after that, and the bottle of formula was easier to deal with than the little jar of strained carrots. Burping wasn’t so hard either, but getting the milky white stain out of that garment certainly was. Emer thought about shoving toilet paper in his ears as the baby screamed bloody **** while he changed clothes. He just didn’t understand why. The kid was fed, and burped. What more could he want? When Emer picked the tot back up, and caught a whiff, he had his answer.

Emer could beer-bong a six-pack without vomiting, but he nearly tossed his cookies the second that diaper came off. “Is this my life now?!” he lamented, wanting to cry just as much as the tiny boy he was cleaning. Abner freshly changed, Emer picked him up and bounced him around until he stopped crying. Slowly but surely the child fell asleep, and soon he was off to dreamland, his head resting on who mommy kept calling Big Sis’ shoulder.

Moving very carefully, trying not to set off the small human alarm that was Abner again, Emer strained to pick up his controller from the coffee table, and find a seat on the sofa. The system sprang to life, but by the time the Super Smash Bros title card was flashing on the television screen there were two people drooling on that couch.

Will our heroes reclaim their masculinity? Find out in part 2!