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Raifu suitchi 15
🕑 Added 2024-03-01 18:59:59 +0000 UTCChapter 15: Trauma
On Monday morning, Allen returned to work, still caught in the aftermath of a whirlwind wedding to someone he barely knew. The experience was made all the more surreal by having his baby sister there to witness him swishing around in a bridal gown and towering heels. However, despite the studio's continual curveballs, Allen clicked into the office of Bloom magazine that morning with a surprisingly upbeat attitude. With the show's conclusion only two weeks away, he was eager to regain his old life, even if it meant looking a little more feminine than he would prefer until the effects of his Botox wore off and his body hair grew back.
He arrived around nine and prepared coffee for both himself and Namiko. Finding her in her usual spot, also seemingly in high spirits, Allen handed her the cup with his long-nailed fingers. "Ah! Thank you, Sofia. Mine's black, right?" Namiko said, accepting the coffee. "I'm trying to shed some pounds."
Keen on maintaining a pleasant atmosphere, which he believed would make his day run smoother, Allen responded with a smile, "Of course, boss. But are you sure you need to diet? You'll vanish if you lose any more weight."
Namiko's smile widened appreciatively. "You really think so?" she asked, her eyes lighting up. "I've been working out four times a week. Do you notice any difference?"
"Absolutely! Whatever you're doing, it's clearly working. Keep at it," Allen encouraged, his voice carrying a noticeably refined feminine pitch.
"Thank you, Sofia. You're looking fabulous yourself. I love your outfit today; it's so office chic," Namiko observed, giving Allen a thorough once-over, her smile genuine.
Allen self-consciously looked down at his girly attire. He was wearing a round-necked, blue satin blouse that subtly accentuated his artificially enhanced figure. A belt cinched tightly around his waist, accentuating his silhouette even further. His legs were sheathed in sleek, black tights, complemented by a bold, black leather skirt that added an element of daring to his ensemble. Finishing off his outfit were high-heeled pumps, a constant in his recent wardrobe. He felt a twinge of discomfort at how femininely his body was presented, especially when peering out from below voluminous lashes and over glossy, jutting-out lips.
Still adjusting to the constant stream of feminine compliments, Allen, swiftly changed the topic of conversation. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
Namiko, happy to pivot to work matters, perked up. “Well, we’ve got an interesting task today. There’s a buzz about a new footwear brand making waves online. We’ll be reviewing their collection,” she explained, rummaging through several boxes beneath her desk until she found the one she sought. “Here,” she announced, producing a blue leather pump featuring a modest platform and a slender heel. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” she remarked, admiring the shoe before passing it to Allen.
"Yeah! Gorgeous," Allen replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he awkwardly handled the shoe, while tossing Namiko a puzzled look.
“You’ll be wearing them,” she clarified, as though reading his thoughts. “To write a credible review, experiencing the product firsthand is essential. Plus, the colour is a perfect match for your blouse. Try them out for the day; let’s see how they complement the schedule of a busy office girl like yourself. I doubt they will be much of a challenge for someone like you. You’re so graceful on your stilettos these days. It’s like you were born to wear heels,” she commented cheerfully.
Allen, if not for the Botox limiting his facial expressions, might have looked utterly astonished. A thought crossed his mind - had he really become that proficient at navigating the world in heels? Was such a thing normal for a man?
"Understood, boss," he responded, his cheeks colouring slightly beneath his foundation. He then carefully placed the shoe back in its box before tucking it under his arm. "Well, let's hope this company has a solid insurance policy. If I end up spraining an ankle in these, I won't hesitate to file a claim," he quipped, eliciting a chuckle from Namiko as he turned to totter back towards his desk.
Mid-afternoon, an email notification from Miss Hitori popped up, beckoning Allen to visit her office. With a sense of reluctance, he slid his feet, clad in nylon tights, back into the blue pumps. Recently, he had adopted the habit of removing his shoes while seated, finding solace in the small comfort of resting his feet while hidden away under the desk. This had become his secret strategy for enduring the long hours perched atop his usual skyscraper heels.
As Allen made his way to Miss Hitori's office, his new heels posed a formidable challenge. Stiff and deceptively high, the toe-crushing pumps considerably hampered his speed. The situation was exacerbated by the swishing and rubbing of his thighs within the confines of his restrictive skirt. Amidst this discomfort, he found himself contemplating what positives, if any, he could mention in his forthcoming review.
Unexpectedly, Allen encountered Miss Hitori in the hallway, returning from a restroom break. “Ah, Sofia! How are you today? Your wedding on Friday was truly lovely. It’s a rare occasion for us to close the office early, but your reception was so beautiful, and you looked absolutely stunning in your gown,” Miss Hitori remarked, engaging more than usual.
Feeling somewhat uneasy, Allen managed a strained smile. “Thank you, Miss Hitori. It certainly was a memorable day. Thank you for coming,” he responded, always uncertain if Miss Hitori’s comments were tinged with sarcasm or if she was genuinely being kind. “I got your email. You wanted to see me?”
(See image 42)
“Yes, it’s a bit unusual, actually,” Miss Hitori began, her expression showing a hint of surprise. “Mr. Kawaguchi, our CEO, just called. He's requesting someone to interview a local wealthy businessman, and he specifically asked for you.”
“Me?” Allen’s voice spiked with astonishment. “But why?”
“I didn’t inquire, and he didn’t offer any explanations,” Miss Hitori responded with a firm tone. “One does not climb to my position by questioning the CEO’s requests. Here’s the address,” she continued, approaching Allen to hand him a piece of paper. “He expects you there in an hour. Finish any pending tasks, then take a taxi. Keep the receipt and the company will reimburse you.”
Allen scanned the address, his vibrant nails making the words stand out as if to underline their importance. "Who is this businessman, and what should I ask him in this interview?" he questioned. The curious timing of this request, coinciding with the studio's task for the week, connected in his mind. The thought that he was about to confront a traumatic part of Sofia’s past unnerved him.
“He's likely a friend of Mr. Kawaguchi seeking some publicity. The questions will be emailed to you,” Miss Hitori explained, then unexpectedly changed the subject. “Oh, those shoes are delightful, Sofia. Are they new?”
Suppressing a sigh, Allen rolled his eyes, sending his fan-like lashes fluttering. “Yes! Brand new!"
"Thank you, Miss Hitori," he added, forcing a polite smile as he bowed his head.
Miss Hitori then turned sharply on her heels. Allen paused for a moment before he too turned, trotting back towards his desk with his mind swirling and his toes throbbing.
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Allen stepped out of the cab into the heart of Kabuki-chō, Tokyo's infamous red-light district, known for its hostess clubs and love hotels - a peculiar venue for a business meeting. The absence of Yamato, the usually omnipresent cameraman, left him feeling unexpectedly isolated in this vibrant yet seedy locale.
Pausing at a rundown building that matched his directions, Allen hesitated before using a long pink nail to access the intercom’s keypad, inputting 309. The response from the intercom, “3rd floor,” came in a gruff, unwelcoming tone. The subsequent buzz and click of the metal security door signalled entry was granted.
The heavy door swung open to reveal a dimly lit stairwell, its unwelcoming ambience highlighted by the flickering of an unreliable light that struggled to illuminate the space. Standing at the foot of the stairs, Allen couldn’t help but rue his choice of footwear. The rigid blue pumps, now compressing his aching feet, seemed more like instruments of torture than statements of fashion.
Fuelled by determination, Allen inhaled deeply and began his ascent. Each step was a deliberate effort to maintain balance and composure. By the time he reached the third floor, he was panting, the oppressive atmosphere doing nothing to ease his growing apprehension.
The corridor on the third floor was a direct reflection of the building’s external dilapidation, with peeling paint and dim lighting that barely pierced the gloom. Allen proceeded with caution, his steps echoing ominously off the walls as he searched for room 309. The sight of the door, slightly ajar, sent a ripple of unease through him, tempting him with the thought of fleeing due to the overwhelming foreboding. Yet, recalling Enzo's instructions about the week’s challenge, Allen steeled himself. He rationalized that this must be part of the setup - a designed jump scare intended for the audience's entertainment.
With a mix of renewed purpose and lingering doubts, Allen gently nudged open the creaking door and stepped inside, bracing himself for the unwelcome experience. He half-expected to be greeted by the familiar, unwelcome sight of Yamato’s leering grin, camera in hand, ready to capture the moment. However, there was no jump scare! No Yamato! Just a dirty, uninviting apartment. When Allen's tentative call of "hello?" was met only with echoing silence, it only served to amplify his unease.
Tentatively, the skirted man stepped forward, the creak of a wooden floorboard muting the usual click of his heels. Overwhelmed by an eerie sensation, Allen's heart pounded against his chest, each breath heavier than the last. His eyes, adorned with meticulously applied makeup, darted around the squalid apartment as he forced himself to investigate further. However, after just three more tiny mincing steps, his feminized body seized up, overpowered by a deep sense of fear that something was not right.
He turned to flee, but his progress was abruptly halted. Unseen and unheard, an assailant, dressed entirely in black and moving with the predatory stealth of a tiger, ambushed him. A strong arm encircled Allen, pinning his upper body, while a cloth, drenched in chemicals, stifled his breaths and muffled his protests. Panic surged as Allen fought back, his legs flailing in a desperate attempt to break free. A precise, agonized thrust of his stiletto into the attacker's shin elicited a sharp cry of pain - yet did little to loosen the iron grip on him. As the pungent aroma overwhelmed his senses, darkness crept into the edges of his vision. His struggles ebbed away, and he succumbed to the enveloping blackness of unconsciousness.
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Allen awoke to a world of confusion, his body aching. Flat on his back, the ceiling above spun in dizzying circles. Trying to move, he found himself bound, and his attempt to shout was reduced to a mere husk of a sound.
"He's awake," announced a female voice sharply, the words slicing through the haze clouding Allen's mind.
The room descended into tense silence, only to be broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. With each advancing step, Allen's anxiety escalated, until abruptly, the footsteps ceased.
"Hello, Allen. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time," a man's voice, speaking in English but with a thick Japanese accent, reverberated throughout the room. His tone was chilling, but brimming with anticipation.
Confusion and fear mingled within Allen as he struggled in vain against his restraints. "What happened? Was I in an accident?" he managed to ask, his voice weak.
A short, ominous chuckle was the reply. "No, Allen. There was no accident," the man corrected, his voice growing ominously close. "You are exactly where you need to be."
A realization of helplessness washed over Allen as the bed suddenly began to tilt upwards. Despite his frantic efforts to break free, the restraints mercilessly held him in place, rendering him immobilized. "Who are you? What do you want?" Allen demanded, his voice raspy with fear.
As the angle of the bed increased, bringing the older man into Allen's line of sight, his smile - a far cry from comforting - was twisted and sinister, filling Allen with an overwhelming sense of dread.
(See image 43)
"You don't remember me?" the Japanese man replied, his voice tinged with mock disappointment. "In that case, I shall introduce myself. My name is Jin Watanabe. I am the director of Raifu Suitchi. We met once before. On the street when I personally recruited you onto the show," he explained, his fingers brushing against his beard.
Recognition flickered in Allen's eyes as he gazed at the white-haired man before him, a glimmer of hope briefly crossing his face. "Raifu Suitchi! Oh, thank God. So, this is part of the challenge."
Jin's expression shifted; his lips twitched as he fought back a smile before succumbing to laughter. His chuckles escalated into a cackle, while Allen's fleeting hope dissolved into deepening trepidation.
"Your life is about to become a series of challenges," Jin declared, his laughter subsiding. "But to clarify, no, this is not part of the show. Your participation ends here. You'll be disqualified for failing to appear this week."
"What?" Allen's voice broke, panic and confusion seizing him. "I don't understand."
"You will grasp the full extent soon," Jin declared ominously, turning his gaze toward the nurse, his nod a silent command to proceed. "Our discussion will resume once you've recovered. But first, you must undergo a transformation."
Panic constricted Allen's voice to a desperate croak. "Wait! Please, let's discuss thi…" His plea dissolved into silence as the sedative coursed through his veins, dragging him back into the abyss of unconsciousness.
Switching to Japanese, Jin turned to the nurse. "Are we ready to proceed?" he asked with authority.
"Yes, sir," the nurse responded, her voice a solemn echo of readiness.
"Excellent. Prepare him for surgery," Jin commanded, his satisfaction palpable. He turned on his heel and exited the room, his departure marking the beginning of a new, uncertain chapter for Allen.
