Chapter 11

“This is bullshit.” Emer muttered, dangling a freshly washed pair of Emmanuel’s boxer shorts from his fingers. He looked at them with disgust, despite their clean state. “That asshole gets busted with us, but not only does he not have to pretend to be a girl, he also gets us cleaning his house. How is that fair?”

“I know, right!” Song said in rare agreement with something coming from his dimwitted friend’s mouth, while he angrily swatted a duster around an end table. “...but it’s an apartment.” The lesser categorization was important to Song as he was grasping at anything to prove he was somehow above his impoverished friend, especially now that he was basically at the boy’s beck and call. Never one to believe anyone ever did anything without ulterior motives, the heir turned heiress lamented, “He’s basically that crazy bitch’s lackey now. Like he pretends he’s just as embarrassed as we are every time we have to kiss, but you’ve seen those erections he gets. I can’t believe I have to do this work, like a poor. This is what the help is for.”

In reality neither had even so much as rinsed a dish in the sink before, and it showed in the quality of their efforts cleaning their shotgun boyfriend’s two-bedroom apartment. Their performance at their new jobs at Rim Beauty over the past week was a different story. With someone constantly looking over their shoulder, and the ever present **** that was chastity cages, the two would-be felons were **** to comply with every single whim of nearly every other person in their lives.

For Emer, every morning started with him doing his own makeup a minimum of two times over a video call with Mary. His new boss was insistent that he practice his skills, as opposed to letting his step-mom do it every morning as he would have liked. The ambitious teen decided her new employee would benefit by having her as an example, so their morning routine was from then on done in stereo. For his part, Emer at least began to develop some measure of skill in spite of himself, finding it easier to perform the task when he had a cute girl to attempt flirting with. Though his long list of cheesy pickup lines seemed to do no good. By Friday Mary hardly had to correct any little errors once she finally saw Princess, as she’d grown accustomed to calling him, in person. While his lines did nothing, the praise his instructor heaped on him pulled him deeper into her glamorous web, and without realizing it, Mary’s new project was that much more eager to please.

Rose however did help with a few aspects of Emer’s presentation, like the voice and other things that her step child desperately seemed to be in need of. One night after work, the boy waddled in like a cat in socks, and for the hundredth time since his ordeal started, complained of back and foot pain. The kindly stay-at-home mom spent much of her downtime on the internet, and with a head full of articles on helicopter parenting, and trans people being allowed to explore their new identities, she tried to let her new stepdaughter figure it out on her own, but after hearing the same struggle again, and again, she had to interject. “You know, Emery, I always say it takes all kinds, but maybe if you’re gonna wear shoes like that, you might wanna try walking like…well you know…” She could understand Emery wanting to wear cute footwear, but the poor dear just looked like she needed all the help she could get wearing them.

“Huh?” The pretty blonde was genuinely befuddled.

“Like a lady, dear. You oughta try walking like a lady. You’ll probably feel a lot better…in more ways than one.” Rose imagined not only would a little change help with the girl’s pain, but also she might feel a little more confident in herself.

In reality Emer had never noticed that different people walk differently in any way shape or form. The most he ever thought about when taking a step was where he was trying to go and nothing more. “There’s a way I can walk where my feet won’t hurt?” he asked, optimistically.

“In those shoes, probably not entirely, but it’ll help.” Rose explained. “Honestly sweetie, I’m surprised you have such high class taste.”

The next two hours were spent in front of Rose’s full length mirror with Emer walking back and forth across the room to Rose’s polite but explicit instruction, all the while little Abner served as a training obstacle crawling around on the floor. From the first gentle step he took without a shooting pain running up his spine, though twice as short as his usual gait, Emer resolved to never walk differently in heels again. The relief was almost orgasmic. An actual critical inspection of his form showed him he already appreciated other things about the female form beside tits and ass. He just never had any real awareness of it. Though it may have been because he liked the way girls looked that meant, in his current reflection, he liked the way he looked too. ‘I shouldn’t like what I see in the mirror, but… damn I’m…’ He looked himself over again, imagining sitting down with his legs crossed at the knee and dangling a heel from his toes. ‘Yeah…Emery is hot. I’m hot!’

Around the same time Song’s home life was altogether a new experience for the privileged youth. For the previous several years his parents had all but given up on him. His legal troubles were just seen as another bill by the time he started his senior year. While his dad at best could muster an awkward hello and maybe a clumsy dad joke before scurrying off and muttering something to himself in Korean, Grace’s parenting style was similar to a totalitarian dictator dealing with a peasant uprising. If Song did as told, there wasn’t much love given, but in general the delinquent was left to his own devices. However, when he broke the rules his mother would verbally carpet bomb him until his ears bled.

It wasn’t said, but Grace had long given up on her son, but it turned out her new daughter was a different story. At home, she’d heap praise on her progeny for his perfect corseted figure, or smooth milky skin, saying how back home when she was a teenager with extremely bad acne, skin care was a luxury she didn’t have. Grace’s mother, a tyrant in her own right, was adamant that money could be better spent on other things like her education. It wasn’t like they were poor, but Song’s grandmother was a skinflint nonetheless. The education did work in Grace’s favor, her being the capable businesswoman she was, but she still considered it a tragedy that she never got to experience being, what she considered, beautiful until she was too old to fully put it to use. If she had anything to do with it, that would never be something her perfect porcelain little girl would never have to experience.

Every night Grace was in her little star’s bathroom, walking her through each and every step of a fourteen step skin care routine, while Song began to fear if he kept it up he’d never stop getting asked for ID when he tried to casually buy beer from even the sketchiest of gas stations. It didn’t stop either as by the time he woke up, there was another twenty step routine ending with the boy sporting the most fabulous and feminine of hairstyles, and makeup. He hated every minute of the rituals, and definitely wasn’t a fan of the end result, but the mountains of praise his mother showered upon him touched a part deep inside that seemed long dead. It was a warmth that if he could, the small boy would have kept in a bottle for the next time he screwed up.

One night, just before bed, Grace was nowhere to be found, caught up watching some crime drama on television when Song, without thinking too hard about what he was actually doing, walked into the living room, and almost pouting, asked his mother when they were going to do their routine. He was actually proud when she explained since she knew he knew all the steps, she trusted him enough to do it himself. In the bathroom Song realized he could have probably gotten away with fudging some of what was required, but for reasons he couldn’t make sense of, he meticulously checked each box of the to-do list before turning in for the night with a smile after his mother once more praised him. He could have done without the “good girl” comment, but all the same he felt that warmth for being recognized and appreciated.

While Rose might have been attempting to avoid so-called helicopter parenting, Grace had no such concern. Whereas before Song could have slumped down the stairs, hair uncombed, dragging his feet, and sat at the kitchen table for a bowl of pure sugar without a second thought, now pigs would sooner fly. His mother had a comment for how he sat, how he stood, how he walked, how he spoke, what he wore, what he ate, and if she was a psychic there’d have been a few words about what he thought, though some of her comments made the eighteen year old boy consider she might have such latent abilities. He wasn’t to come down the stairs until he finished his morning routine, and was dressed and presentable for the world. “A girl has to care about such things after all.” she’d say. By Friday morning he knew there wasn’t any way he’d be getting his bowl of fruity pebbles back. The starving boy would have to settle for half a grapefruit and a cup of green tea instead. Not even coffee was safe, the drink being off limits because of something to do with it being bad for his skin, while green tea was supposed to be good for it.

At the shop it was a different story. Grace had a reputation of not giving anyone the time of day until they proved their worth, and she was definitely not going to be accused of nepotism. On the rare occasion she made an appearance at Rim Beauty, Song may as well have been a ghost. The new situation at home had done something to his brain, and without intending to, he found himself craving his mother’s approval all the more. The indifference she showed professionally was like a knife to the heart. Whenever she was there, he bent over backwards to do a good job, even performing the most ridiculous and demeaning of tasks Eun could throw at her new punching bag with fervor. He scrubbed the toilet making sure to plaster a giant smile on his face when he thought Grace might be watching. When Eun told him about Grace often watching the wireless cameras setup in the store, something he remembered her having up on a screen when she was in her home office, but hadn’t given it much thought, that made the plastered-on smile a permanent fixture. Making the job all that much worse was having to look across the store, and watch Emer skating by, getting away with merely windexing a glass countertop, and playing around with Mary.

That Friday, after putting in more effort than Emer and Song ever had at any point in their lives, they sat down for the typical end of day meeting with Bianca. A routine they unfortunately were becoming accustomed to. Eagerly awaiting a two-day reprieve from the redheaded torturer, they sat through her usual spiel, then made out with Emmanuel without uttering one word of protest. All their hopes were dashed in an instant when Bianca announced, “I know you girls want to please your boyfriend, so I thought up a way you two could help. Since Emmanuel’s mother is so busy with work, I’m sure things have been piling up around his house. Why don’t you go over there tomorrow, and help him clean up?”

“No way!” the two shouted almost in unison, Emer adding, “I was gonna watch TV tomorrow.” like it was the most unbreakable of commitments.

“Calm down, ladies.” Bianca said calmly, but not at all hiding the threat that lay beneath those words. She was surprised that the two had enough fight left in them to raise their voices like that. Though she thought it was forgivable considering the boys sounded like protesting teen girls. “You two are going to help your boyfriend tomorrow, and you’ll do it without complaint. If not, I’m positive he’ll let me know. Otherwise there will be hell to pay for all three of you, understand?” The quietly angry beauty let the question hang in the air. The two girlish boys said nothing in response. “Understand?!” she asked again, this time with the kind of emphasis that demanded a reply.

“Yes.” they both a pouting, their eyes resentfully cast down to the floor.

“Good,” Bianca continued, “and for that little outburst I’ve decided there’s going to have to add another little requirement.” The requirement was already going to happen, she had already spent money on it, but it never hurt to remind her dolls that there were ramifications for resistance.

Now the two stood in Emmanuel’s home, half-assing their chores and commiserating in their frustrations with the situation. Emer complained, “Like, I have to work super hard before I even go to work every day, with, like, the makeup and stuff, and Manny gets to work at that easy ass clothing store. I bet he’s in there with that lady coming up with all this stupid shit.”

Song added, “At least your boss likes you. I’m pretty sure if she was certain my mom wouldn’t have fired her for it, Eun would have cut off my genitals by now. Not to mention, your breasts aren’t on full display for Brooks to ogle right now.”

The extra punishment Bianca had mentioned turned out to be two maid outfits with Emery and Miss Song’s names embroidered on the tags. The pair were ripped from a Japanese maid cafe as they set about their unwanted chores. Their outfits were mostly the same, from their frilly white caps, to their wildly impractical heels, fortunately strapped around the ankle to provide just a modicum of support. It was their dresses that differed. Emer’s dress covered his new assets, but his long legs were on full display, clad in the opaque white tights that complimented the black and white outfit, while Song’s dress was long enough to cover his backside, but proudly showed off his new cleavage like he was, as he described it, “some kind of low class street walker”.

Emer tilted his head inquisitively as he listened to his friend go on his rant about modesty and proper dress, when he giggled to himself.

“What?” Song asked sharply, his patience already thin.

“Nothing, dude.” Emer replied, still snickering.

“Seriously, what?” Song said with a huff, internally cringing at how his new feminine figure not only moved, but jiggled as he did.

“Okay, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you’re talking again. I don’t think I’ve ever gone that long without hearing you say anything. You were kinda scaring me, bro. I’m just glad you’re back to your usual stuck up self, you know? But…don’t get mad…I just realized you kinda sound like Karen Glenwood now.”

“I don’t sound anything like that hussy.” Song spat, not doing anything to help his case. The pretty Asian boy was so angry that when he flailed his arms the little duster in his hand knocked over a vase, smashing onto the laminate floor beneath it.

“What are you doing?!” Emmanuel asked, panicked. He ran into the room at the sound of the crash. The boy was sitting in his bedroom, trying to keep ample distance between his eyes, and Song’s breasts. He hated what the transformed boys were doing to his brain, but the introvert hadn’t had a lot of experience with women so he had little defense, at least in the physical sense. Like many eighteen year olds, that boner was showing up whether he wanted it to or not.

“That’s my mom’s favorite vase. Are you guys even trying right now?”

The tall boy gestured around the room at the mess that had been at best been moved around a little. “You’re supposed to be cleaning, not…” He couldn’t find the words, instead just waving his arms at the green t-shirt Emer seemed to be intentionally burning with an iron. All this got in response was a raised middle finger from Song.

“I’m not going to jail for you two.” Emmanuel huffed before running back into his room, and calling Bianca.

“What’s going on Emmanuel?” Bianca answered.

“Song and Emery aren’t doing their chores right, and you told me to call you if they didn’t. I’m doing just like you said, Bianca, honest.” the boy nervously praddled, taking special care to use the feminine version of Emer’s name. His boss hadn’t been too thrilled the few times he’d messed that up at work.

“You did the right thing, hon.” Bianca replied. “The girls will need to be punished. Since I’m not there, that’s going to have to fall to you, understand?”

Emmanuel was confused. “Punish…how?”

With a plan already in mind for just such an occasion, a smile graced Bianca’s lips as she responded, “I’d say a good firm spanking will do. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Umm…” The idea of putting his hands on the other two was the last thing from his mind, but he knew that if he didn’t, he’d have hell to pay.

“Good.” Bianca said, not waiting for an answer. “Send me a video so I know you followed my instructions, okay?” and without another word, she switched back to her previous call with her friend in Florida. “Girl, I’m telling you, it would have been a thousand times easier with Ariel if we’d have had someone to play her off of. These three are almost taking the challenge out of it”

“Bia, I can’t believe how good you are at this now.” her friend Steph replied. “I figured you’d need my bad cop to compliment your good cop, but it looks like I was just dragging you down. You’re such a badass, girl.”

“Emmanuel is definitely helping. I don’t know what happened to that kid. In spite of how he looks, I’ve never met anyone more scared of the world. I know his home life is kinda rough or something, so I’m really doing him a favor, and giving him some extra pocket money if you think about it. I mean, he’s absurdly compliant. Just then a little chime went off on the store manager’s phone. “Speaking of which…” The bottle redhead looked down at her screen to see a fresh text from her employee containing a photo, and attached video. The video she would watch later, but the picture depicting a teary eyed Song bent over Emmanuel’s lap, his skirt hiked up above his waist, while his unwanted boyfriend was mid swat, and the icing on the cake was the horrified expression on Emer’s face as he stood behind them, knowing he was next.

Back in the apartment thoughts ran through all the boy’s heads. Emer was wondering if he’d break anything if he jumped out of the second story window. Emmanuel was hating every moment of it, but at the same time couldn’t stop himself from being incredibly turned on after having someone he made out with on the regular across his lap and his hand touching their bottom, hating himself for being a trouble magnet in the first place. He wouldn’t even be in this situation if he didn’t hang out with the other two. While outside, Song’s eye makeup was streaking, inside he was anything but the feeble little girl he’d been playing all week. The only thing keeping him from truly breaking were the daydreams of the devious ways he’d be getting his **** as soon as an opportunity allowed.