Brad

Tags in this chapter: drag queen, magic, bitch, slut, mind control

Markie had just stood up from the floor and hadn't realized that she had slashed her forearm with a shard and that the whole bathroom was covered in blood. When she realized the blood, she suddenly felt the pain and let out a **** cry.

"What's, like, ya problem now?" her older sister Lucy moaned angrily, rolling her eyes at Markie's plight.

Markie looked down at her bleeding arm, panic rising in her voice. "Oh my god, I'm, like, bleeding! What am I supposed to do now?"

"Whoa, what happened?" asked Brad, rushing over to examine Markie's injury.

"I don't know, I must've, like, cut myself when I fell in the toilet?" Markie said in a shaky voice. "It really hurts!"

"We need to get you to the hospital now," Brad urged, leading Markie to the door.

The tension in the emergency room was palpable as Olivia, Lucy and Brad waited anxiously for their friend Markie to return. Brad just shook his head, unable to deal with the stress of the situation.

"I'm going to get a coffee," Brad said abruptly, needing a moment to himself. He stood up and made his way to the hospital hallway.

As Brad stood in front of the coffee machine, watching it slowly fill his cup, a soft voice suddenly called out, "Braaaad."

Brad turned around, but the corridor was empty. "Hello?" he called out, confused. Then he heard the voice again: "Braaaaad."

Curious and a little unnerved, Brad followed the disembodied voice around the corner to an open hospital room. Inside, an old, sickly man lay in bed, not moving.

"Um... hello?" Brad said cautiously, peering into the room. "Is anyone here?"

Suddenly the old man's eyes snapped open and he turned to Brad, a cool grin on his gaunt features. "Truth or dare?" he cleared his throat.

Brad froze, a shiver running down his spine. The old man rose slowly from the bed, his movements unnaturally smooth for someone so frail. He shuffled towards Brad, who took a startled step back.

"Truth or dare? Truth or dare?" the old man sneered, his voice growing more menacing with each word.

Before Brad could react, the old man lunged at him and threw him against the wall, his bony fingers gripping Brad's shirt. "TRUTH OR DARE?" he screamed, his breath hot and nauseous on Brad's face.

"Truth!" Brad cried out, startled, and squinted his eyes.

When Brad opened his eyes, the old man was gone, and in his place stood an imposing figure - Brad's own father, a uniformed police officer.

"Brad. What are you doing here?" his father asked in a rough and authoritative voice.

Brad swallowed hard, still shaken by the bizarre encounter. "Oh, uh, a friend of mine got hurt. Nothing serious, I'm just here for moral support," he explained.

Brad's father nodded towards the room where the old man had been lying. "We found him on the street, unresponsive. I guess his time had come."

"He's ... he's dead?" Brad asked, a feeling of unease spreading through him.

"Is something wrong?" his father urged, scrutinizing Brad's worried expression.

"Uh, no. I'm fine. I'm just a bit shaken up," Brad lied, not wanting to go into any more detail about the disturbing experience.

Brad's father reached out and grabbed him firmly by the shoulder, a menacing expression on his face. "I want to hear the truth," he said in a low, almost inhuman tone.

Brad took a deep breath, deciding to open up to his father for once. "The truth is, Dad, I've been avoiding coming home because I'm scared to tell you that I'm gay," he confessed, his voice trembling slightly.

His father's expression hardened, and Brad braced himself for the worst. "So, you've been lying to me all this time?" his father asked, his tone laced with disappointment. Then he continued, a demonic grin crossing his face. "So that explains your tattoos, your perfect skin and your style of dresses, even if it is a bit over the top, don't you think?"

His skin became softer and smoother, almost immediantely. A black bustier wrapped around his chest, tattoos visibly adorned his arms. Jeans turned into skin-tight leopard-print pants that accentuated his legs. Fishnet stockings materialized on around his legs and 4 inch stilettos replaced his shoes.

He continued, Brad wanted to stop him, but he couldn't move. "I always thought your makeup was a bit much, like you were into goth, but now knowing you're gay, it makes more sense now. The way you spent hours on makeup before school seemed odd to me".

Then his face began to change. Make-up drew sharp contours and placed dramatic accents on his eyes. His eyelashes became thick and long, his lips turned a deep red.

"I remember when you asked for a wig; I thought it was for a fashion show or to fit in at school. But now, I get it - you've always wanted long hair to be a drag queen. And your daily manicures, I could never live with such long nails, but I kind of love it," his father said, still with a demonic grin.

His short hair made way for a white curly wig. His fingernails pitch black and grew longer and longer, matching with his toenails.

Brad was no longer a young man, but a drag queen, self-confident and not afraid of anything.

"And it baffles me that it never crossed my mind that you might be gay. I mean, the way you talk, move, and think - it all screams gay and drag queen," his father added, with a guilty conscience.

With that realization, his posture transformed too. No longer slouched, he stood tall, chest thrust forward as if to show off the flatness of his chest. Other memories began to align. He recalled the numerous times with other men, the plethora of clothing in his apartment, and the bathroom cluttered with makeup and wigs. His place was always tidy, his clothes changing almost daily and the daily dates he brought home, all men. He grew more confident, even enjoying the occasional spat with his friend Lucy, quite the diva herself!

"Absolutely, darling." Brad admitted, smiling as he looked straight into his father's eyes, who no longer wore a demonic grin. "Oh, sweetie, I was absolutely trembling over how you’d take it."

Brad's father stepped away from his son, his eyes showd fear, but then a demonic grin crossed his face and he let out a heavy sigh and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Brad, I'm your father", he said with a grin. "I don't understand you, and I will never love you no matter what" he said, his voice trembling. Something had twisted his words in his mouth.

Something changed in Brad's mind. He remembered that his father was always away and would send him to Lady Blackwell's place. That's where he had first dressed in women's clothing, and his father had never noticed, as he was always drunk when he was home. Over time, Brad had spent so much time at Lady Blackwell's that by the age of 14, he had mastered the art of applying makeup, in various combinations - whether for evening, party, goth, morning, or school. She had even taught him how to dress and carry himself as a proper woman.

At the age of 18, she had taught him how to be gay and that it was nothing wrong to love other men. When he had sucked his first cock and liked it, she was with him and initiated everything. She was the perfect mother he had never had because his father had never talked about his real mother.

And during all the time he spent with her, from the moment he started arriving at her place, changing into women's clothes, applying makeup, painting his nails, and donning a wig, Lady Blackwell began addressing him by a girl's name that he had kept to this day: Briella or Bri, as her nickname.

Brad's eyes met those of his "father", who looked at him in surprise but also fearful. "What are you staring at, honey? Isn't this eyeliner sharp enough to cut?" he exclaimed in surprise, stepping up to a dirty mirror in the morgue, not even paying attention to what his father had just said.

"N...no what?" His father replied surprised. "I just wish you'd kept it to yourself. We have n... nothing to talk about, and I'm n.... not here for you, my so... s... stranger" he said, tears welling up in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. His demonic grin dissapered, and he quickly left the room, leaving his son still trying to apply makeup in front of the grimy mirror, unaware that his "father" had left.

Briella's makeup application had gone awry, mainly because the mirror was so dirty he misplaced his eyeliner, which now looked slightly off. No one would have noticed, but he was a perfectionist, or at least, Lady Blackwell had taught him to be one.

He turned to face the man who was once his father, but he was gone. He remembered the time he and Lady Blackwell told his father he'd rather be a woman than a man. His father had screamed at him, declaring he was not his son but a stranger, and had thrown all his belongings out of the house. Both he and his father had suffered a nervous breakdown. Lady Blackwell then offered him shelter under her roof, which he accepted, emotionally exhausted. From there, things only improved. He rediscovered his joy in life, and Lady Blackwell even suggested he call her by her first name, Selena.

Briella just shrugged and walked out of the room, past the corpse. He would have liked to blow the man. He was quite cute, albeit old, the thought sent a chill down his spine. He decided to return to the girls. He had only intended to... What had he intended to do? He paused to think, but nothing came to mind. So, he did what he always did: he went to the bathroom to touch up his makeup.

With his makeup flawless once more, Briella clacked his way back to the emergency room where Olivia, Lucy, and Markie were already waiting impatiently.

"How did it, like, go?" Markie asked him.

Briella hurried over to them, moving as fast as his stilettos would allow. His face was painted so intensely that it overshadowed Markie and Lucy by far, but that was the Briella they knew.

"The game asked me, darling" said Briella, his expression unreadable.

Olivia and Markie exchanged a worried look. "Are you okay?" Olivia asked gently. "What did it ask you?" She added.

Briella hesitated for a moment: "Honey, my mind's a blur," he said, stroking his chin carefully to avoid smudging his makeup. "Darling, I'm racking my brain here, but it's just not coming to me. Total blank".

Olivia and Markie exchanged another worried glance. This couldn't be good. They all remembered him as the drag queen he was, but if he couldn't even recall recent events, what did that mean for the game?

"Oh, now it’s coming back to me", Briella admitted, "It was something fierce about coming out to my dad, letting him know I’m gay. Quite the reveal, honey!"

Markie let out a high pitched whistle. "Wait a minute - your dad? I thought you, like, hadn't talked to him in forever? And how does he not know you're gay? I thought you told him, like, ages ago...?"

"Oh my God, that means you were someone else before, and neither we nor you can remember your old self," Olivia burst out, but unfortunately too quietly; no one heard her as Briella simply continued the conversation.

"I don't know, darling, but I'm famished for some real meat. Let’s scout for a cute boy who’s serving exactly what I’m craving…", Bri said, to his friends.

"OMG, can you just be normal for, like, two minutes and not obsess over guys, Ella?" Lucy exclaimed loudly, making sure everyone, especially Briella, could hear.

Briella hated being called Ella; he had been bullied with that name in school and had once confided this secret to the group, but Lucy now deliberately used it to irk him.

"What's your tea, Lulu? Can’t wait to twirl those cocks yourself, can you? I’m not the villain here, honey. Who blows cocks to make that rent money? Not me!" Briella retorted sharply.

"You dumb bitch..." Lucy began, but Briella cut her off. "Me, dumb? Sweetie, you don’t even know what 16 times 16 is..." Lucy interrupted this time, "Interrupt me, like one more time, and I swear I will..."

"Ladies, please, pull yourselves together. We have bigger problems. Tyson is up next. Does anyone know where he is?" Olivia tried to inject confidence into her voice, which wasn't easy. But it seemed to work, as Lucy and Briella glared at each other menacingly, but stopped arguing, for now.

"Oh, like, fuck," Markie said, looking at her phone clock, her expression turning worrying. "I have to like go now..."

Olivia appeared frustrated, as Markie often had to leave at critical moments. Despite this, being a supportive friend, Olivia let her go.

"Alright, but promise me you'll be back by 11," Olivia said.

"Okay dokay," Markie replied, exiting the hospital where her friends remained.