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Rent or Forfeit 13
🕑 Added 2024-08-23 09:35:00 +0000 UTCChapter 13: A New BFF
Stretching out his aching body in a rare moment of quiet, Tommy cursed his luck for landing what felt like the worst job imaginable. Standing in a bustling shopping centre with a forced smile plastered across his painted red lips, he had been tasked with greeting parents and their children before escorting them to visit Santa.
He glanced down at the glossy red claws protruding from the tips of his fingers - acrylic extensions he was still struggling to get used to. He wished he had paid more attention at the nail salon; maybe then he wouldn’t have ended up with such long nails. These new nails made everything more difficult - he had barely managed to pick up his spoon at lunch to eat the soup Monica had prepared for him. Even going to the bathroom had become a challenge as he wrestled with his white tights, trying not to tear the delicate nylon. But despite all the inconveniences, he still preferred the idea of these nails over the alternative - contact lenses. The thought of touching his eyeballs to insert and remove the lenses still made him feel nauseous.
As he slowly wiggled his fingers, watching his lengthy nails glisten under the department store lights, he couldn’t help but feel that these frustratingly long extensions were partly to blame for his current predicament - greeting guests while dressed in an indecently short, fur-trimmed red dress, cinched in by a corset beneath and a chunky belt above that crushed his waist to tiny proportions. All the while, teetering on ligament-stretching knee-high platform boots that he could barely stand in, let alone walk.
The week had started with Tommy working in an office, doing some data entry. But with his typing speed reduced to a snail’s pace thanks to his new nails, he wasn’t invited back the next day. On Tuesday, Claire called, offering him a position in Santa's workshop - having heard about his struggle the previous day and thinking this role might be more suitable. Desperate for the money, Tommy accepted the job without asking for the full details.
To complete his sexy Mrs Claus look, Tommy wore a Christmas hat with a white bobble and dangly candy cane earrings. Yes, he now had pierced ears, a change made at the insistence of the stylist responsible for making him look the part. The piercing process had been quick and relatively painless - a fact that irritated Tommy, especially since he had opted for thin, girly brows over getting pierced just a few weeks earlier. The final look was sickeningly girly, with his hair plaited into pigtails and his makeup applied to attract maximum attention. His job was to smile and look seductive, and he despised every minute of it.
Lifting his throbbing right foot off the ground to get some momentary relief from the crippling pain pulsating from his toes up to his calves, Tommy was suddenly startled by a familiar voice. “Excuse me, miss. Do you know how long the wait is? We’ve been here for almost an hour now.”
(See image 13)
Peering past his luscious lashes, Tommy felt his stomach drop as he came face to face with the last person on Earth he wanted to see in his current predicament. Startled, like a deer in headlights, the colour drained from his makeup-caked face. “Maddison!” he blurted out without thinking.
Maddison looked puzzled. “Do we know each other?” she asked, her pretty features furrowing in confusion.
Tommy’s heart began to race, and he mentally kicked himself for being so careless. Why had he said her name? It must have been the shock of seeing the girl he’d had a crush on throughout school standing before him. Desperately trying to salvage the situation, he only dug himself deeper. “Err… I think we went to the same school.”
Maddison tilted her head to the side, her piercing blue eyes locking onto Tommy as she carefully examined the person before her, dressed in a daring Christmas dress with sparkly makeup and pouty red lips. “You do look a little familiar. But sorry, I can’t place you. Which is odd as I’m usually really good with faces. What’s your name?”
Panic set in as Tommy began to sweat. His mind went blank, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t come up with another name to lie to her. The silence became unbearable, and he finally whispered, “Tammy.”
The moment his feminine name slipped from his inflated lips, Tommy knew he had made a terrible mistake. As Maddison’s eyes widened in recognition and her mouth dropped open in disbelief, Tommy stood there trembling, feeling like he was about to faint.
When she finally spoke, Tommy felt on the verge of throwing up. “Tommy? Tommy Jenkins?” she asked, seeking confirmation of what she already suspected. “Is that really you?”
Tommy froze in place, lost for words, as he gritted his teeth and tensed his neck. “Oh my God! It is you! Wow!” Maddison exclaimed in shock. “You look… wow!”
“Maddison. I can explain. Please don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me like this,” Tommy blurted out in a panicked voice, his eyes darting around nervously.
Maddison looked him up and down, scanning the entirety of his sexy Christmas outfit before meeting his eyes again. “Tommy, I had no idea you were trans,” she said, to Tommy’s horror. “Don’t be embarrassed. I think it's great that you’re finally showing the world the real you. It’s so brave of you.”
"Brave?" Tommy echoed, feeling utterly appalled. "Isn’t this a bit… weird?"
“Hell no!” Maddison shot back enthusiastically. “You look amazing. Did you do your makeup yourself?”
Relieved that she wasn’t screaming out that there was a boy dressed up and pretending to be a girl, yet feeling completely emasculated - crossdressing in front of the girl of his dreams, Tommy lowered his head. “No, they have a makeup artist here. I’ve been practising at home, but I don’t usually go this bold.”
Maddison smiled warmly. “Well, either way, you look stunning - better than most of my girlfriends. We should definitely hang out sometime. You can tell me the story of how you ended up working here,” she said, rattling out the words without taking a breath.
“Sure,” Tommy replied, still in a daze, momentarily forgetting how he was dressed. The idea of spending time with Maddison sent a rush of excitement through him.
“Okay, great! I’ll text you. Do you still have the same number?” Maddison asked, her eyes sparkling. Tommy nodded. “Perf. I’ll set something up. Oh! I should probably get back to my family now. Do you know how long the wait to see Santa will be?”
“Uh... shouldn’t be long,” Tommy mumbled, shuffling his angled feet in their uncomfortable boots. “five or ten minutes, max.”
“Oh, thank God. I only came along today because my little sister begged me. All the waiting around was super boring. But now that I’ve run into you, I’m so glad I came. See you around, Tammy,” Maddison said, leaning in for a brief hug before skipping back to join her family.
The following evening, after another long and uncomfortable day on his feet, trying to act cheerful as snot-nosed kids ran around screaming, Tommy was relaxing in his room with Russell when his phone buzzed. Quickly picking it up and fumbling to unlock it with his cumbersome long nails, he saw a message from Maddison. “Hey gurl, how r u? Let's hang out Sat night round mine. U free?”
For a moment, Tommy didn’t know how to reply. The last thing he wanted was to go out dressed as Tammy on a Saturday night. But the thought of spending time with Maddison - alone in her room - excited him. He mulled it over for a few minutes, but what ultimately swayed his decision was the fear that Maddison might tell someone what she had seen, or worse, spread rumours that he was trans. He needed to talk to her and set the record straight. Picking up his phone, he typed his reply. “Sounds fun. What time?” He hesitated, his finger hovering over the send button as uncertainty gnawed at him. After a nervous gulp, he finally pressed send.
Tommy was a nervous wreck for the remainder of the week, mincing about atop his skyscraper heels, trying to ignore the lustful stares from all the fathers. His mind kept dwelling on what he would say to Maddison and how he could explain the truth without making her hate him. He barely thought about the forfeit he’d have to choose on Friday until he found himself awkwardly clutching the options between his shiny red nails, trying to decide which one he hated more: ‘Dye your hair pink’ or, making its third appearance from the hat, ‘Get a spray tan.’
