Rent or Forfeit 25

Chapter 25: Rewriting the Past

The ear-piercing shriek of the alarm shattered the stillness of Tommy’s bedroom, prompting a groggy hand to slam down in search of the snooze button. Instead, he knocked the clock clean off the bright pink bedside cabinet, sending it clattering to the floor.

He lay there for a moment, his long hair covering his face, as a familiar sense of dread crept over him. He brushed a strand of lilac hair tickling his nose out of the way and reluctantly swung his legs over the side of the bed, shuffling toward the bathroom.

After relieving himself, Tommy stood at the sink, staring into the mirror. The face staring back was still strange to see, though it had become disturbingly familiar over the weeks - a girlish visage with full, pouty lips, long fluttering lashes, and a cascade of sickeningly bright lilac hair. Yet the image looked unsettling, the faint shadow of morning stubble on his chin disrupting the otherwise flawless femininity staring back at him. It had to go.

He lathered his face with shaving foam, the task made clumsier by his long pink nails, and picked up a razor. As it glided across his skin, Tommy felt conflicted. The stubble was his last trace of masculinity, a small reminder of who he really was. But keeping it would only draw unwanted attention. Sighing, he continued carefully, each swipe leaving his face smoother until there was no trace of the shadow.

Twice a day - that’s how often he shaved now. The tedious ritual had become routine, a necessary effort to avoid the paranoia that crept in every evening, wondering if a telltale dark patch might betray his secret beneath his foundation.

Placing the razor back on the counter, he inspected his reflection. His thoughts wandered to Sarah’s offhand suggestion a few weeks earlier about laser hair removal. At the time, it had sounded absurd. But now, looking at his doll-like face, it didn’t seem quite so ridiculous.

Smoothing moisturiser over his freshly shaved skin, Tommy’s gaze settled on his collagen-enhanced lips. They showed no signs of reducing, remaining as plump as the day they’d been injected. His thinly arched brows, meticulously shaped and feminine, were another reminder of his situation - though that was likely his own doing, given how he plucked away any stray hairs growing back in to keep them neat.

After a long, soothing shower, Tommy dried his hair and applied a light layer of makeup. Feeling a mix of nerves and determination, he left his room and found his sisters lounging in the living room. Making himself a quick bowl of cereal, he joined them on the sofa.

“Good morning,” he greeted, offering a tentative smile as he sat down.

“Someone seems unusually chipper this morning,” Sarah remarked, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you’d be sulking.”

“Well, today’s not about me,” Tommy replied sincerely, though a twinge of apprehension lingered in his voice. “Today’s for Monica. I want to make it special for her.”

Monica’s face lit up with a genuine smile. “Really? That means a lot, Tammy. I think today is going to be super fun, and if you’re really all in, it’ll be even better.”

“I am,” Tommy said, turning to Monica with a warm smile of his own. “I’m sorry, Mon. I didn’t realise how horrible I was to you back at Mum’s. I can’t change what I did, but I want to make it up to you.”

Monica reached out and squeezed his hand. “Let’s not dwell on the past, okay?” she said softly, her smile bright and reassuring. “I’ve made peace with it, and I want you to know - I forgive you, Tammy.”

The words hit him hard, making his throat tighten and his eyes well up. “You were only thirteen,” Monica continued. “I can see you’ve grown, and it means so much that you’re willing to come out with us tonight. I know you probably nervous.”

“A little,” Tommy admitted, lightly biting his plump bottom lip.

“I’ll look after you,” Monica assured him, patting his thigh gently. “Now, finish your breakfast so we can start getting ready. Like I said, it’s going to be a really fun day.”

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A few hours later, Tommy found himself sitting under a hair dryer in a beautician’s chair at a day spa, the promised fun still nowhere to be seen. He sighed, trying to stay positive - after all, it was only one evening, and he genuinely wanted to make amends for the hurt his past-self had caused.

As the dryer clicked off with a mechanical whir, one of the beauticians came over, examining his hair with a nod of approval. “You can take a short break now,” she said with a polite smile. Grateful to be free of the hot air and incessant droning, Tommy smiled back, though he wasn’t entirely sure why he was thanking someone whose sole mission seemed to be making him look even more feminine - if that were even possible.

Carefully leaning forward, he maneuverer his lips toward the straw, his exaggerated pout opening and closing awkwardly, reminiscent of a fish at feeding time. With his hands immobilised under the UV lamp hardening his fresh acrylics, bending was his only option. He strained his neck to take a thirst-quenching sip, the motion feeling as awkward as the entire day had been so far.

Sitting back up, he glanced around the room, his thoughts churning as he tried to process the hours of transformation he had endured. Every step had played out before him in the mirror - from the sewing in of impossibly long extensions that now stretched to his lower back, to the resulting heavy locks being tightly rolled and piled atop his head for the dryer to work it’s magic. The bright pink dye had perhaps been the biggest surprise, leaving no doubt that he wouldn’t just stand out - he’d be impossible to ignore.

Yet, despite it all, an odd sense of calm settled over him, as though he were detached from the surreal reality unfolding around him. He wasn’t entirely sure what his sisters had planned for him, but it was already clear he would be a walking spectacle that evening. For now, the weight of the rollers atop his head and the lingering, sharp scent of hair dye served as silent reminders of just how far removed he had become from the person he once was.

After another hour of meticulous preening and primping, ensuring every detail of his appearance was flawless, Tommy was led out of the room and down a short corridor—it was time to get dressed. As he passed the mirrors lining the hallway, his gaze locked onto the reflection of the prissy-looking girl staring back at him. Long, curled pink hair tumbled down her back in voluminous waves, framing a face that could have graced the cover of a magazine. Surely, that couldn’t be him.

Her eyes - his eyes - were lined with dark precision, the fluttering lashes having been refilled to appear impossibly long and thick. They sparkled beneath a shimmering layer of silver and pink shadow, making them disturbingly pretty. Yet, it was the lips that truly stole the show: full, glossy, and undeniably kissable. Coated in bright pink gloss and swollen from yet another syringe of collagen, they looked almost too perfect to be real.

As Tommy stepped into the room, he froze in place, his heavily made-up eyes immediately drawn to the striking dress hanging from a hook on the far wall. There was something about it that tugged at his memory, an uneasy familiarity he couldn’t quite place. He had anticipated something princess-themed, but the sight of the ultra-feminine gown was more than he’d prepared for. The bodice, a blush pink corseted bustier, shimmered softly under the room’s light. The voluminous skirt, layered with petticoats and adorned with delicate butterfly embellishments, flared out dramatically.

Edging closer, Tommy’s gaze shifted to the rest of the outfit, folded neatly on a nearby chair. A pair of sheer stockings with an accompanying garter belt rested on top of a silky pink thong. His stomach churned at the thought of having to squeeze himself into such intimate, revealing pieces. Beneath the chair, a pair of towering pink high-heeled pumps awaited him, their intimidating height making him gulp nervously.

Leaning down, he picked up one of the glossy pumps, his manicured fingers brushing over the shiny material. The slip-on design looked simple, but the towering heel was anything but. As he turned it in his hand, comparing the scary-looking heels to the one’s he’d worn to Maddison party, a sinking realisation hit him - these were even taller.

“Are you ready?” asked the woman who had escorted him into the room, her voice pulling him from his thoughts. She remained by the door, clearly intending to assist him in getting dressed.

Tommy looked from her to the open door, an irrational urge to run surging through him. The idea of escaping, even if it meant fleeing in nothing but the short robe the spa had provided, was almost tempting. But he forced himself to take a deep breath, remembering the promise he’d made to Monica. This wasn’t about him - it was about making things right.

Looking back at the woman, he gave her a hesitant nod. “Yes,” he squeaked, the word barely audible.

He had just finished dressing when Sarah and Monica strolled into the room, their hair and makeup flawlessly done. They looked more glamorous than Tommy had ever seen them, but what caught his attention immediately was that all three of them were dressed in identical gowns.

“Wow! Look at you with all that hair. You look like you’ve just stepped out of a Disney movie,” Sarah teased as she strode towards him with an air of confidence.

“Can we please stop with the comments for just one night?” Tommy pleaded, already painfully aware of how girly he looked. “I thought tonight was supposed to be about having fun.”

“Yeah, come on, Sar,” Monica interjected, giving her sister a sharp glance. “Tammy’s being a good sport. Tonight, I just want us all to get along as sisters. Be nice, okay?”

Sarah softened, her lips curving into a smile. “Okay, okay, no more snarky comments. Tonight, we’ll be three loving, identical sisters hitting the town,” she said with a playful lift of her flowing skirt, letting it swish lightly around her knees.

“Yeah, about that - why are we all dressed the same, anyway?” Tommy asked nervously, glancing between his sisters. “Well, except for the shoes. Your heels look way more comfortable than these monsters you’ve put me in,” he added, carefully rotating his foot, only to wobble slightly.

“You’ll manage - you’re practically a pro in heels by now,” Sarah replied with a smirk. “And these dresses? They have a special meaning. I’m guessing you didn’t get a good look at it last time… you know, when Monica ran past you in tears.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped. “No way!” he mouthed, spinning around to examine himself more closely in the full-length mirror.

“Yes way,” Sarah replied firmly. “Monica never got to wear it to prom all those years ago - thanks to you. But I had three replicas made. Tonight, she finally gets to wear it out and create happier memories. And we’re going to be there to support her.”

Tommy remained silent, his eyes fixed on his sissified reflection, searching for the courage he would need to face the night ahead.

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A few hours later, Tommy found himself in an alleyway, teetering precariously between a dumpster and a pile of old boxes, on the verge of tears. The evening’s venue - a local pub Sarah had hired out to recreate Monica’s school prom - had started off awkwardly and only gone downhill from there. She’d brought in a DJ, decorated the space with balloons and streamers, and even invited some of Monica’s old classmates. With the promise of a free bar, most of them had turned up, eager to relive their youth.

At first, Tommy had done his best to grin and bear it. Despite the snickers and whispered comments as people gradually worked out who he was, he tried to hold his head high. Even when a few drunken men started making unwelcome advances, their hands lingering too long on his waist or brushing against his backside, he bit his tongue and tried to stay composed. But what finally broke him was Sarah. After one too many drinks, she laughed loudly and declared that he made such a perfect prom princess she might just keep him that way forever.

With his flared hem of his dress fluttering against his knees in the icy night air and his aching feet throbbing in their towering heels, Tommy leaned back against the rough brick wall, his mass of pink curls cushioning his head against the coarse surface. Shivering, he stared blankly ahead, holding down his massive skirt as it whipped around in the wind, feeling utterly lost and hopelessly alone.

(See image 25)

He closed his eyes, desperately trying to fight back the tears. More than anything, he wanted to rip off the ridiculous prom dress and kick off the excruciatingly painful heels that were crippling his feet. He wanted to run far away, but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t get very far on such a cold night with nowhere to go. Instead, all he could do was stand there, trapped in the moment, and wait.

A tear escaped, slowly rolling down his cheek as the sound of footsteps approached. Opening his eyes, Tommy looked up to see Maddison standing in front of him, her casual outfit doing nothing to dull her beauty. Her expression was filled with concern.

"Tammy! Are you okay?" she asked, stepping closer. "I was so worried after you called. I didn’t know what to think." Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened, taking in the sight of him in the extravagant ball gown. She looked him up and down, clearly confused.

"I can’t do it anymore, Maddy. I can’t take it," Tommy blurted, lunging forward into her arms.

"Hey, hey. It’s okay," Maddison said softly, wrapping him in a warm hug. "Tell me what happened."

"Everything is so messed up," Tommy sobbed into her shoulder. "I don’t even know who I am anymore. I tried to do the right thing, to make things right, but Sarah just keeps punishing me."

"Shush, shush," Maddison cooed, gently running her hand over his back in a soothing motion. "We’ll sort it out. Together. But right now, let’s get you out of the cold before you freeze to death, okay?" She leaned back slightly, lifting his chin to meet her gaze.

Tommy nodded reluctantly. "Okay. But I can’t go home. I just... I can’t."

"Then come stay with me for a while," Maddison replied, her tone tender as she reached up to wipe away the streaks of mascara smudged down his cheeks. "Mum won’t mind, and that way, you can have some space to figure out what you want to do."

Tommy nodded again, but the weight of her words settled heavily on him. Living with Maddison would mean leaving Sarah and Monica behind, but it also meant living as Tammy. He had no male clothes, no way to revert to the boy he used to be. Maddison thought he was transitioning, and going to her house meant leaning further into that lie.

As Maddison held his hand and led him out of the alley, Tommy’s thoughts churned. Would escaping this nightmare mean embracing a new one? Or was this his chance to take control of his life - even if it meant letting go of the person he once was?