Chapter 5

It being the two boys’ first time in a spa, they had a picture in their mind probably picked up from movies. An image of two girls sitting in a tub, soaking in warm fragranced water, wearing mud masks while they sipped on cucumber water to match the slices over their eyes. Instead what they discovered was between the exfoliating scrubs, and excessively thorough rinses, a spa day had more in common with refinishing old furniture than any beauty ritual they pictured. Once finished, Emer no longer carried an ounce of the lingering body odor he neglected to thoroughly scrub away as often as he should, and Song was smooth as a baby’s bottom, smelling far more like cherry blossoms than the tacky aftershave he never actually needed to use.

Holding up one arm, Emer sniffed his now smooth armpit, breathing in the peaches and cream scent that seemed to cling to him. ‘I smell like food.’ he thought before leaning closer to his friend and taking in a whiff. “Song… I mean Jae… err. Song? You smell good, but I think I smell better. What do you think?” the blonde asked, pointing his elbow to the ceiling once more so that his friend could get a sniff, not considering the fact that his entire person smelled of the body butter used on him.

“Just stop it.” Song said in a small voice as he pulled away, not wanting to smell anybody’s armpit no matter the odor. He really didn’t want to deal with Emer right now, but he was stuck with the situation and the nitwit.

Once the two women performing all their spa treatments finished, they wrapped the boys in a fluffy bath towel over their chest in a manner befitting the two young ladies the trapped boys were quickly becoming. Song searched around for a minute, hoping to find his garb but they were long gone. ‘I know my clothes were over here.’ He thought to himself, a sinking feeling taking hold that had little to do with the only a bath towel between his body and the world, and more about his dashed hopes of escape. He was planning to make a run for it once dressed again. His mother wasn’t coming into the store today, at least not this location, so he’d have to find another way home without his phone or wallet. His plans for freedom no longer seemed viable, especially without both Emer and Brooks. They would drag him down with them.

When the disgruntled teen found Eun sitting by her station, thumbing through a magazine, Song asked if she’d seen the garments, which only got a maniacal laugh in response. The feeling of dread grew worse. He couldn’t actually get away safely, not without getting into the bitch’s office to get their stuff, but just having the option was somehow giving him hope and now… that was gone.

The petite South Korean girl peered up from her magazine, fully expecting another rage-filled tirade from the spoiled brat. Instead, she saw the boy was clearly angry, though in a far more pathetic state. He looked like he was about to cry his little heart out. Eun almost felt sorry for him before she remembered the little terror was getting everything he deserved. She handed him another cover-up, said “Smile, sweetie,” then slammed the door in his face.

Meanwhile, unprompted, Emer had already slipped on his little pink robe, and was out on the salon floor asking, “What’s next?”

It wasn’t long before the two scantily clad youths were wrapped in capes, and sat down for the stylists.

Emer didn’t often brush his hair, nor wash it for that matter. He’d let it slide until his boyish good looks could not compensate for his greasy mop. His stylist was almost offended, having to work on the neglected locks. First things first, she had to wash his hair, scrubbing out a week’s worth of dandruff, and grime. Emer certainly didn’t mind, thoroughly enjoying the attention.

What he did mind was the boner he popped when the woman rinsed his hair, and then started the whole process for a second time. Suddenly extremely aware of the flimsy piece of fabric between his penis and the rest of the salon, the frustrated boy crossed his legs at the knee like he’d seen girls do, where he crushed the soldier standing in attention between his thighs. The boy was **** for it to shrink before he’d be **** to stand again. He began to relax, once his hair was rinsed a second time, but as he was about to rise, he learned of a little thing called conditioner the stylist began working through the ends. It was the first time in his life he could remember being angry with Little Emer.

Fortunately for the blonde himbo, save the professional reluctantly salvaging the mess he called his hair, everyone else in the facility was enthralled by the sight of the boss’ asshole son asking, angrily asking, but asking for a girl’s haircut. A few employees were nervous about what might happen should Grace find out, but the vast majority couldn’t contain themselves. The debate as to what style would suit him best gleefully raged between the women. Some were in favor of a cartoonishly feminine spiral perm. Others, more reasonably fearful of Grace’s response, decided it’d be best not to clown the boy out, and instead go with a style more suited to his soft delicate features. The best **** they could imagine was making it so no one in their right mind would ever mistake this adorable creature for a boy.

“Would you just fucking pick already?” Song said, loud enough for only a few to notice, but they disregarded him, and returned to their gabbing. It was hard to take the boy seriously when they knew that white lady had him over a barrel, and also that he had **** but to wait for her to show up with something for him to wear. He scowled at the women through the mirror, but no one paid him any mind. Settling on his new look, his stylist took him over to the wash basin where Emer was finishing up.

Still a little chubby, Emer stood from the reclined chair, and hoped there was enough materiel in the cape to successfully mask his little indecency. Back in the seat, the stylist went to work with her sheers, snipping away half an inch right off the bottom to deal with the countless split ends. Afterwards the cuts grew more precise as she snipped away all around the length, paying special attention while trimming vertically into the hairs she’d combed down in front of his eyes, till he could once again see.

The entire time she was doing this Emer found himself fascinated by what was going on in the mirror. The only reason his hair was so long was because he never thought much about it. He’d let it grow until living with it became so frustrating he couldn’t be bothered anymore, and he’d chop it all off, usually a buzz cut, before starting all over again. It was a process that required the precision of a sledgehammer. This was the moment he learned just how much of an art the craft was, gaining a new appreciation for the pretty hair he liked to see on a pretty girl.

Once Song was finished in the wash basin, he was brought back to his stylist chair where in the mirror he caught sight of his dripping wet self, realizing just how pathetic he was in that moment. His face and neck burned crimson with shame. When two of the workers noticed and couldn’t contain their laughter, he shot them the meanest glare he could muster, but strangely kept his mouth shut for probably the first time in years.

It was decided a short bob would suit his face shape, so the stylist started clipping away, taking extra special care with the layers forming the shape that would frame his cherubic face. While she worked away, Song caught sight of Emer in a mirror off to his side, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought Emer was asking questions while he inquisitively watched the professional roll his hair up in a few dozen curlers.

The blonde was curious about the process, and seemed to have no shame about asking questions. However, he was ashamed when for the third time Little Emer started to stir, just before he was whisked away to sit under a whirring dry where he dreamed of the thorough fapping he’d partake in when he was finally allowed to go home.

Around when Emer was finished under the dryer, Song was experiencing the new sensation of a person running a flat iron through his hair, twisting it at precise times to shape the ends, with little regard for the tenderness of his scalp. Satisfied with her work, she stepped aside to give Song a look at his brand new hairdo. Even without a hint of makeup, his shaped eyebrows, and the soft side-parted bangs that swept gently across his forehead went miles towards presenting a quite girlish picture. When Song saw one of the older stylists laughing at him for staring slack-jawed at his own reflection like he’d just seen a ghost in the mirror, his voice failed him. He couldn’t even bring himself to scowl at her. For the first time in a long time he felt completely ****. It was only now beginning to dawn on the brat just how screwed he really was. Cheeks burning, he only then realized his stylist was going over the ins and outs of maintaining his new look.

“...and you really need to make sure you dry the bangs in place after you shower, otherwise they’ll never listen until you wash your hair again, but otherwise you can let the rest air-dry sometimes for some nice natural waves, though you seem more the sleek type. A flat iron every morning rolled under at the bottom, and you’re golden. That’s why I think this is such a good style for the girl on the go. It’ll be next to impossible for that cut to look anything like boy’s hair, and you’ll hardly have to try.”

At first Song’s stylist was laughing with the others at the feminized boy’s predicament. It was after they decided on a style that she remembered the reason the little prick was such a terror was because he was the owner’s son, thus his mother would be going over her efforts with a fine-toothed comb. The seasoned professional made sure that, at the very least, the little shit’s hair would be stylish and feminine in spite of anything he did or didn’t do to keep it up.

*

In The Hanger, Bianca made a few more purchases for the new girls, swiping the little metal card she found in Song’s wallet for the tenth time that day. She’d seen the type of folks with that same card coming into the store, so she could infer Song was another entitled rich kid with more money than brains. Not that he was stupid but the idea of un-skirtable consequences he couldn’t comprehend. Whether he liked it or not, the fed-up store manager was going to give him a crash course.

After boxing up all the new purchases, she was finally able to focus on Emmanuel for a little while. One would have thought from the look of him that Emmanuel was just another grimey street kid. Everything he owned had at minimum half a dozen holes throughout, but he was actually pretty ritualistic. Bianca was surprised to discover he smelled strongly of Irish Spring bar soap, and a dollar store bottle of Head N’ Shoulders shampoo. The boy might not have had the nicest things, but he clearly cared about his hygiene. It wouldn’t be too hard for her to turn him into a stylish young man, ready to conquer the world. All he needed was a new coat of paint.

Armed with a tape measure, a notepad, and a pencil, Bianca set to task sizing the lanky teen. She was surprised to find he wasn’t nearly as large as she was expecting. Something about Emmanuel’s grizzled expression, and the way he carried himself gave off the impression of a muscular brute, but her tape measure was telling Bianca that he was actually quite lean, possessing a smaller frame than many of his peers. Her fashion education, and knowledge of silhouette told her, a nice tailored suit was the most flattering garment for a body like his. Not what she expected going in, but the result actually delighted the eager artist who was already dreaming of the stylish gentleman she was going to create.

Up on a pedestal, Emmanuel stood patiently, eyes locked forward while he waited for the other shoe to drop. He had just watched this crazy lady hand over his friends to be turned into girls like it was just another Tuesday. Now she was measuring and placing sharp little pins all around his body, though he was most aware of the ones around his crotch. The auburn beauty worked diligently moving from garment to garment, each now ready to be sent off for alterations.

Once Bianca finished pinning and chalking the last piece, she gave Emmanuel one last outfit to change into for the day. When the boy saw his reflection, he trusted the store manager’s sanity even less. He was wearing the fancy gray slacks that weren’t perfectly fitted, but tapered in at the ankles to create a nice enough line. The pants were matched by a vest in the same color, cinched in the back to create the same effect as the tailoring would when those pieces were altered. All of this over a simple ivory button-down, and Emmanuel was the kind of stylish you could see in either a teen heartthrob magazine, or a **** Cab for Cutie video.

“Stay here, and don’t go out onto the floor. You can wait quietly in the office and think about what you’ve done while I go get your girlfriends.” Bianca said while she made the final adjustments to the knot of Emmanuel’s gray necktie. “Don’t move a muscle from that seat.” The boy didn’t. He didn’t trust the strange woman who’d just taken over his life, and was perplexed as to why so much of this so-called “punishment” felt like a reward to him.

While walking back over to Rim Beauty, Bianca logged into each boy’s phone. Song’s high-end device, and Emer’s generic rectangle suited her purposes fine, as she set them both to share their locations with the calculating beauty. Emmanuel somehow still had a flip phone that actually worked, so the same treatment was out of the question, but she doubted she’d need it since the poor boy hadn’t so much as raised his voice once since this whole situation started. She did jot down his mom’s phone number as well as the other two’s parents just in case any of her three new toys decided to try and disappear on her.

*

Emer watched intently as a pink haired girl was diligently painting a face, fascinated by the entire process. He’d always thought of makeup like clothing, simply requiring one just to put it on then get on with their day. However, he was surprised to discover not only how much labor, but also how much craft went into the pretty faces upon which he was so fond of gazing.

His eyes darted back and forth between the gorgeous looks of the artist painting her canvas, and in a nearby mirror, the gorgeous face she was creating. The girl, intensely focused on her task, occasionally lost her composure, unable to ignore the goofy faces the curler-headed boy would make trying to sneak glimpses, like a vain girl preparing for a big night out. She’d chuckle, earning her a smile from the captive youth, demonstrating just how cute he could be sometimes.

Neutral tones shaded the creases of Emer’s eyelids, accentuating his baby blues nicely, followed by a dusting of a shimmering white into an equally shimmering pink over the lids, really making them pop. Black liquid liner was used to create a cat eye effect, shaping his eyes into something far more sexy than their typical glazed over droopiness. Makeup remover on a pointed cotton swab had the wings sharp as a razor before the pink-haired beauty started with a base layer of primer before coating the rest of his face in a light and silky creme foundation, only a shade lighter than his natural skin tone. She used its brightness to start with highlights for the base, and then shaded in the necessary contour with a chocolate bronzing powder that actually smelled like real cocoa. When Emer inhaled the cosmetic’s delightful odor for the first time, he found himself dreaming of a Starbucks hot chocolate, a fact he felt inclined to share much to the amusement of the technician. He was almost too cute the way he scrunched up his face when she vigorously attacked it with a big fluffy blending brush. The girl was a whiz with said brush, and after a strategic placement of blush on the cheeks and a few other key places, Emer could see the girl in the mirror was going to turn some heads, even with her lips unfinished. She definitely turned his.

Song sat nervously in his seat while a different esthetician worked on his own crimson face. He was far more red than normal, but everyone in the shop was more familiar with the little asshole’s normal face than they’d liked to have been. It didn’t mean it was less of a struggle, but she’d take the challenge over having the sheepish youth arrogantly running his mouth like his usual self.

She began with a bit of concealer to cover the slight dark circles under Song’s eyes, the only features she believed did anything to help to masculinize the brats face. Her plan required an initial application of liquid foundation as the base, thin but encasing, covering every inch of his youthful complexion. Once it dried just a touch, she dusted the blank slate with a coating of translucent powder to reduce the shine. Eye shadow primer followed, where she could begin to create the pis de resistance of the work of art she was creating, a rich smoky eye.

A lighter shade of red eye shadow, then a deeper burgundy. Blend, blend, blend. Then a deeper shade of crimson. Blend, blend, blend. Finally a deep violet down to the lash-line. Blend, blend, blend. Song wondered if this was his hell, having to sit through his tormentor repeating the same beauty process for all eternity.

Satisfied, the makeup artist continued, lining the upper and lower lash-line with a black kohl eyeliner pencil, then roughly smudging it to blend with the intricate mix of shadows. A white pencil on the waterline and the whites of Song’s eyes stood out beautifully between the deep tones of his eye makeup, and the dark pools that were his irises.

The girl continued her efforts, lightly contouring the feminized boy’s pert nose, thinking it only needed a little definition so the cute feature wouldn’t be too cute in contrast to the sexy visage she was creating. A shimmering highlight the t-zone, and a burgundy blusher pulling double duty for both cheek contour and shading, and she closed the compact and smiled to the **** client, briefly forgetting that the gorgeous creature before her was actually the most arrogant eighteen year old she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

While Song sat meekly, unable to meet the gaze of any of the women now gathered around showering him with compliments they knew he didn’t care to hear, Bianca was arriving with a single shopping bag draped over the crook of her arm. She stood off to the side, pleased with the results, also grateful for the ladies of the salon doing her work for her in helping to break down the arrogant youth’s ego piece by piece. The boy had a reputation, so he must have done something to earn their ire before this, but still it was far more of an onslaught then she was expecting. She also wondered if it just would have been easier to take Ariel to a Salon first, if he’d have been this thoroughly broken when they came back to pick him up.

“Well, don’t you look lovely, Miss Song.” she said, interrupting the choir of teasing. “Did we thank everyone for all their hard work? You know that’s a must for a young lady such as yourself.”

“Thank you.” the small Asian child said, contrasting like night and day from when they arrived just a few hours earlier.

A cursory glance around the salon, and Bianca spotted Emer, getting his hair unrolled on the opposite side of the room. Much to her surprise he was asking questions as the process unfolded from a mess of spirals ready for smoothing, teasing, and hairspray. The blonde coils were transformed into a ball of fluff, as adorable as, and invoking the image of an innocent baby sheep.

“Time to get dressed, girls.” Bianca squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly. “I can’t wait to see the finished product. I decided to go with a virginal theme, since this will be your first time out. Do you mind if the girls change in the spa dressing room?”

Eun, who had come out of her cave to see how the person she most loathed turned out, was quick to answer. “Of course, ma’am. Use our facilities to your heart’s content. All of us are excited to see how the umm…ladies turn out.”

Song exited first, only struggling slightly with the black thigh-highs which now encased his slender little legs. The silky white panties were no trouble at all, but the strapless bra was foreign. The clasp was simple enough, but navigating it with his newly extended acrylic fingernails was a different story. The red tips fumbled with the unfamiliar device, but succeeded out of sheer spite, the very pretty boy refusing to give his tormentor the satisfaction of acknowledging his incompetence. Once the undergarment was in place, the little gel inserts sent with it were self explanatory. A white dress followed, backless, exposing his delicate creamy shoulders. It started with a halter, Song’s decolletage covered by a sheer mesh netting connecting to the pure white fabric hugging his bodice firmly, then ending in an a-line shape with a skirt flowing prettily as it hung down to his knees. Bright red, pointed-toe pumps went over his black stocking feet, enclosed by a wide ankle strap decorated by a theatrically large cross shaped bow, a decidedly feminine accent on a decidedly feminine outfit. A black bangle, a red bangle, and a little silver heart shaped necklace accessorized the outfit, Bianca feeling that a heart was one thing the little dick she met earlier that day was sorely lacking. He only left the dangling needle shaped earrings in their package, unsure of what to do with them.

In contrast, Emer was struggling with the unfamiliar garb from the get go. Almost immediately he asked for help, and Bianca was left to fix the strapless bra the simpleton had already placed the gel inserts in for some reason. She felt like the mother of an uncooperative toddler when she had to hold open the mock turtleneck of the pink cold shoulder top so he didn’t completely destroy the three hours of work that went into his flawless makeup, and perfectly coiffed ‘do. It was a pretty top, with lacy floral embroidery decorating the upper bodice which masked the feminized youth’s lack of cleavage well enough.

Bianca assumed he’d be able to figure out the skirt on his own, but quickly discovered she was wrong when Emer tried to drop it on the floor like his blue jeans. Fortunately she caught him and explained it should go over his head so the virginal white piece of fabric wouldn’t get dirty and wrinkled from being crumpled on the floor. The mid length skirt fit snug at the waist where it flared out over the boy’s thick thighs ending in floral embroidery cutouts that danced around his knees.

The white platform pumps were simple enough to figure out, however once Emer had them on he cartoonishly wobbled to catch his balance for a solid forty-five seconds before he was able to exit the little dressing room with Bianca trailing behind him, exasperated by the whole event.

After the two were dressed, they were marched back to their chairs where the girls put the finishing touches on their makeup. Before the final results were revealed, the staff decided it would be best to cover the mirrors so they could do a dramatic reveal once everything was perfect. Emers lips were outlined in a shade perfectly matching the pastel pink of his nails, then filled in with a lipstick that was more of the same, but with a glossy kissable wetness that was almost too inviting. Song on the other hand was outlined with a red so deep the color was almost black, but filled in with a much lighter shade matching the brightness of his accessories, then blended leaving a gradient of dark to light in a glossy ruby.

Eun noticed Song fumbling with the silver pair of earrings between his fingertips. “Let me help you with that.” she said, snatching the jewelry, and forcing the little hooks through the mostly closed holes that were barely there in his earlobes. He’d tried pierced ears a few months earlier, attempting a K-pop boy band look, but the little diamond studs only had the effect of making a few strangers believe he was a girl from time to time until he finally relented, deciding to remove them and pretend it never happened. He regretted it even more now as he felt the sting while little shimmering metal bars dancing around his ears as he turned his head, tickling his cheek.

Seeing Song’s newest additions, Bianca remembered out loud, “Oh, right. Emery needs to get her ears pierced.” She handed a little package to the beautician, and said, “I got these for her, if you could do the honors?”

Happy to comply, the woman readied a small sterile hypodermic needle and marked two dots on Emer’s earlobes while the boy clad in pink winced in anticipation of the excruciating pain to come. He waited, and waited, until he heard the technician say, “All done!” and he opened his eyes. He also felt an unfamiliar sensation around his earlobes, and found himself curious to see the results.

Finally, the time had come. The two had seen one another, but not yet themselves, each wondering in spite of their crumbling male egos how they compared to the other. Two full body mirrors were pulled out onto the main floor, covered by a couple of fluffy towels. The girls in the salon were a little frustrated by the lack of tips on such a slow day, but were now grateful, the lack of customers not getting in the way of the greatest show many had seen in years.

Upon the big reveal, Song wanted to die. He was an alpha. He was dominant. He always got his way. He was the smartest guy in the room. None of that matched up with the image of an adorable Asian-American princess that was reflected back to him in the mirror. Unable to deal with the cognitive dissonance attacking his very sense of self, Song broke, at least for the time being. He tried to make himself as small as possible, clutching one arm with the other across his chest under his padded bosom, unintentionally putting his new assets on full display. It painted quite the demure picture in contrast to his usual obnoxious and boisterous self.

Emer wasn’t quite sure what to make of his reflection. He rested his chin between his fingers while he examined the girl, trying to process all the new information. She was hot. Cute, but also hot. As far as the girl’s looks he liked what he saw. “Dude, I’d go out with me.” he said out loud for all to hear.

The would-be casanova didn’t want to walk away from the image before him, but didn’t have much of a choice, when after settling the tab, again with a swipe of Song’s credit card, Bianca tapped him and his equally pretty friend on the shoulder, and said, “C’mon girls, we need to leave. There’s still much to be done, and not many more hours left in the day.” She then ominously grinned and said, “I also think it’s time that Emmanuel got to meet his two new girlfriends.”