Raifu Suitchi 10

Chapter 10: Drenched Diva

Friday morning began with a much-needed lie-in, a stark contrast to the week's pre-6 a.m. awakenings. The previous day, the studio had communicated that filming would commence at noon, and they would arrange for Allen's transportation.

By 10 am, Allen, refreshed yet ravenously hungry, sauntered to the kitchen for a light breakfast. He sliced bananas, scooped out passion fruit, and emptied a tin of pineapple chunks into a blender. After a quick whirl, he had a smooth tropical blend. Pouring the concoction into a glass, he drank it quickly, momentarily satisfying his hunger. But from the pattern over the past week, he anticipated his stomach growling again within the hour.

He then ambled to the bathroom. Slipping off the oversized T-shirt he'd worn to bed, he left it crumpled on the floor and stepped into the shower. The cascade of warm water was soothing on his hairless skin. He lathered up with a fragrant shower gel, careful to keep his hair dry.

After basking under the water, he emerged in the mist-filled bathroom, wrapping a plush pink towel snugly around his chest. With a mix of anticipation and trepidation, he stepped onto the scale, eager to gauge the physical toll the past days had taken. The scale's LED display flashed: one hundred and twenty-eight pounds. The swift loss of seventeen pounds made him pause. Was losing that much weight in such a short time safe?

He pivoted to face the mirror. A slender, dark-haired figure with striking blue eyes set against tanned skin stared back. "I've become so skinny," Allen thought, a bit stunned. Releasing the towel, the reading on the scale dropped another pound. He gazed at his gaunt upper body. Once an average-built man, he now bore the delicate frame of a pre-pubescent girl.

Turning away from his unsettling reflection, Allen exited the bathroom, aware that he had roughly an hour before the film crew's arrival. Entering his bedroom, he saw the two outfits Sofia had selected for him the night before. It dawned on him that he was about to re-enact the day he met Sofia, only this time, from her perspective! It was a quite bizarre and unsettling thought.

He began by sliding into silky panties and securing a bra around his torso, fitting breast forms that sculpted a modest cleavage. Seated at Sofia’s makeup desk, he applied moisturizer over his buttery-smooth skin before starting on his makeup, guided by the memory of Sofia's meticulous tutorial. He applied shades of pink and purple around his eyes, now framed with thick, fluttery lashes, achieving a sickeningly beautiful look. A final touch of bubblegum-pink lip stain, topped with a sheen of glossy finish was next, before his black contacts completed the transformation.

Thanks to Sofia's foresight, his hair was already styled in time-saving plaited pigtails from the night before. He moved to the wardrobe, confronting his attire with a sigh. Although the high wedge sandals would provide a challenge, the outfit itself - a light, breezy top, denim shorts, and a relaxed summer hat – was what worried him the most, being better suited for the warm days of August when Sofia had first worn it, and not the briskness of October 23rd.

Nevertheless, with limited options, he put on the outfit, added hoop earrings to his recently pierced lobes, slid bangles onto his wrist, and donned oversized round sunglasses. The reflection showed a look reminiscent of countless young women he'd seen around Tokyo during summer. But it was no longer summer! He was poised to both draw attention and freeze his cute little backside off.

Minutes later, the doorbell's chime echoed, heralding the arrival of Aiko and the film crew. Once inside, she commented on Allen's feminine transformation, causing a cringe to ripple across his painted face. Following a quick briefing on the day’s agenda - one that Allen was already anxiously familiar with - the cameras began to roll.

“Good morning, Sofia! Don’t you look pretty today? What's on your agenda?” Aiko asked, sticking to the script.

Allen, fixing a gaze on the camera, delivered his rehearsed lines, “I’m heading into the city to top up my tan and get a manicure. Later, I'm catching up with my besties, ready to dance our hearts out,” he replied, flashing an exaggerated smile, mildly startled by the words that flowed from his glossy, enhanced lips.

Post-interview, the crew and Allen vacated the apartment, and outside, a nondescript grey minivan awaited. Allen was not thrilled about the tanning salon destination; he was once again about to be coated with an artificial, orange hue. His recent rigorous scrubbing sessions in the shower had only just reverted his skin back to somewhere near its natural shade. On the brighter side, he noticed the sun was shining, slightly warming an otherwise chilly day. With swift steps, he approached the minivan, assisted into the backseat by a crew member.

Emerging from the salon an hour and a half later, a freshly bronzed Allen felt a mix of absurdity and resignation. His morning's meticulous makeup effort had been wiped away pre-tan, only to be reapplied post-tan, providing ample amusement to both the film crew and the salon's staff. Gratefully, he thought the ordeal had come to an end. Yet, as he stepped outside, the skies had betrayed him. Rain lashed down, and he stood bereft of any protective coat or umbrella.

“Aiko, it’s pouring down out there! How am I supposed to reach the van without getting soaked?” Allen questioned, his eyes darting anxiously at the water-logged streets.

“You'll manage,” Aiko responded, a playful glint in her eyes. “Your hat should offer some protection. Plus, with those towering platforms on your feet, you can practically glide through the puddles!” She chuckled, finding amusement in the situation.

With scepticism written all over his Botox-filled face, Allen took a hesitant step into the rain-laden street. Huge droplets pelted his bare arms and legs as he hurriedly made his way to the minivan. As he stumbled and staggered, water splashed around him, soaking his feet and ankles. Finally reaching the vehicle, he tried the door handle only to find it securely locked. Meanwhile, Aiko, clad in a protective raincoat and holding an umbrella, approached with the show's cameraman, Yamato.

“Aiko! Unlock the door!” Allen's voice, laced with desperation, pierced through the rainfall. “I’m getting completely drenched here!”

“Relax, it's just rain,” Aiko responded with an irritating calmness. “We just need a quick shot for the episode, and then you can hop in.” She signalled to Yamato, who prepped his camera. He counted down with his fingers – three, two, one - before nodding to Aiko.

“So, Sofia, with your skin freshly tanned and looking radiant, where to next?”

With every droplet amplifying his frustration, Allen glared at her, the rim of his summer hat sending streams of water cascading. “To get my nails done,” he replied, his voice cold and sharp.

“Cut!” Aiko commanded, then faced Allen. “Look, Sofia, our viewers are expecting to see the thrilling day when you meet your significant other, Allen. I get it, the weather isn’t perfect, but we need you to show a bit more enthusiasm, alright?”

The urge to explode bubbled fiercely inside Allen, yet he restrained himself, conscious of the countless sacrifices he'd already made. He couldn't afford to squander everything now. Besides, he knew that the quicker they wrapped up this scene, the sooner he could seek refuge from the unforgiving rain. With a reluctant nod, he signalled his compliance.

Once more, Yamato counted down. As Aiko posed her question again, Allen, cold and drenched yet determined, channelled his inner Sofia. “Off to glam up these nails for my big night out,” he exclaimed, displaying his sleek black nails as beads of rain danced off them. Flashing a faux-excited expression, he added, “Can't wait!”

Aiko shouted, "Cut!" and almost immediately, Allen's face transformed, giving Aiko a sharp, reproachful pout.

(See image 30)

Aiko hit the unlock button, and Allen hastily clambered in. Once inside, she handed him a towel which, when he used it, left streaks of artificial tan on its surface. " Was that really necessary?" Allen inquired, frustration evident in his voice as he tried to dry his gaudy, dyed legs.

"Just doing my job. We both have roles to play here," Aiko said nonchalantly, adjusting her seatbelt as the vehicle started to move. Their next stop: Sofia's favourite nail salon. The minivan conveniently parked right outside the entrance. Eager to escape further rain exposure, Allen, along with the crew, hastened inside, being especially careful not to slip in his waterlogged wedges.

Over the next hour, despite the uncomfortable chill from the cranked-up air conditioning and his damp attire, Allen endured the nail treatment. A friendly technician efficiently removed his previous set, pampered his hands and feet, and bestowed upon him a fresh set of acrylic nails. Holding his hands up, Allen scrutinized the new fiery red talons. They appeared more squared and, somehow, longer than before.

The camera lens zoomed in, capturing his reactions. " Wow! Sexy nails, girl! Do you like them?" Aiko inquired. Playing along, Allen beamed, "Oh! I love them!" His overenthusiastic response earned a giggle from Aiko, who continued, "It’s still early, Sofia. What’s next?"

Following the script, Allen smiled at the camera, "I’m going to look around and do a little window shopping. Maybe try on a cute dress or two. Would you like to join me?"

Aiko beamed. "Very good, Sofia! You’re getting the hang of how to talk to our audience now." As they wrapped up, the manicurist approached with the bill. Aiko motioned to Yamato, who promptly dealt with the payment.

Aiko handed Allen a slip of paper. "What’s this?" Allen asked, gingerly holding the list between his new fire-engine red talons.

"It’s a list of places Sofia visited the day she met Allen. Browse, select some outfits, try them on, and ensure it’s all on camera," she instructed, putting on her raincoat. Allen was once again flabbergasted at Sofia's meticulous documentation. If only she had kept it simple like him.

"Well, off you trot," she gestured towards the salon's rear exit leading to a shopping complex, ensuring he'd avoid the rain. "I'll meet you back by the minivan at four. Don’t be late!. We've a busy evening ahead of us." Without another word, she left, heading back into the relentless Tokyo rain.

With a sense of dread and a desire to escape the prying lens of Yamato, who had an uncanny knack for making him uncomfortable by continuously panning down to his exposed legs, Allen promptly left the nail salon. The vast, opulent expanse of the shopping centre unfurled before him, its multiple balconies bedecked with countless high-end boutiques he'd never voluntarily enter. Amidst the sea of elegantly-clad shoppers, Allen felt like a fish out of water. His damp, summer outfit was like a beacon, drawing inquisitive gazes and not-so-subtle stares. The sensation of being an exhibit, especially when Yamato with his intrusive camera caught up, was nearly suffocating.

Feeling increasingly exasperated and after almost resigning to the idea that Aiko’s list was some sort of twisted joke, a beacon of familiarity emerged: the sign of a store from the list. Relief washed over him, and with renewed vigour, he hastened his steps, eager to find sanctuary from the unrelenting scrutiny.

But, crossing the threshold of the boutique plunged him into an auditory and visual tempest: pulsating pop music, blindingly vibrant hues, and racks teeming with frilly, ostentatious women’s clothing. Feeling like a lost lamb, he wandered aimlessly, occasionally allowing his fingertips to graze the silky and satiny textures of the garments. However, amidst the sea of lace and sequins, a plush, warm fur coat beckoned him. Holding it up, the luxurious fur promised warmth and comfort, a stark contrast to the chill he felt in his skimpy attire.

Just as he was getting lost in the coat's allure, a poised voice broke his reverie. “That's a lovely choice. It’s from our newest collection. Would you like to try it on?” inquired the diligent saleswoman who had stealthily approached him.

Taken aback, Allen faltered, “I was just...erm, looking. Thanks.” Yet, her sharp, observant eyes took in his attire and the obvious discomfort he felt from the cold. "Are you sure? It's rather cold outside," she remarked gently, "And your outfit, though chic, doesn't seem to offer much warmth."

Considering his current predicament and the instructions Aiko had given about trying on outfits, Allen hesitated briefly before murmuring, “Umm… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try it on.”

The saleswoman, with a professional smile, extended the coat toward Allen. "Here, allow me," she offered warmly. Allen, cautious not to snag his freshly adorned nails, curled his hands into fists, cautiously threading his arms through the sleeves. As the coat settled on his shoulders, the immediate embrace of warmth felt like a much-needed reprieve, the plush material almost like a consolatory hug.

"Kawaii!" the saleswoman exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with genuine approval. "It suits you perfectly. But, I have to ask," she glanced toward Yamato, whose camera seemed perpetually affixed to Allen, "Are you someone famous? That camera has been following you since you entered."

Flushing slightly, Allen glanced at Yamato, who appeared nonchalantly detached from the situation. "Well, I'm part of a TV show," he admitted.

Intrigue illuminated her features. "Wow! How exciting!! What's it called?" she inquired, her enthusiasm palpable.

With a moment's hesitation, Allen divulged, "It's 'Raifu Suitchi.'"

Recognition dawned on her, and her demeanour shifted, a subtle amalgamation of surprise and a hint of opportunism tinged her excitement. "I love that show! The new season just started, didn't it? But, I haven't caught up yet. You're stunning; I would never have assumed you're not...well, the woman you're presenting. I'm Mai," she introduced herself. "What can I call you?"

Anxious, Allen scanned their surroundings, ensuring no eavesdroppers lingered within earshot. He didn't fancy a spectacle. "Thank you," he replied, a tinge of discomfort in his tone. "Sofia will do."

Mai's eyes sparkled with camaraderie. "Sofia, It seems like the show's stylists have been a little unkind, sending you out in such chilly weather dressed like this. Let's find you something cosy, shall we? And, since you're practically a celebrity, I can offer you a 20% discount. I presume the TV studio covers your expenses?"

Caught between the lure of comfort and the awkwardness of the entire scenario, Allen pondered briefly. The alternative was aimless wandering amidst prying eyes. He consented, and Mai ushered him toward a quaint, secluded changing area, instructing him to wait.

She reappeared promptly, arms laden with garments: a chic top, a coordinated skirt, and a pair of avant-garde ankle boots, which she set beside him. Extracting a pair of tights from their sleek packaging, she handed them to him. "These are from the distributor. My gift to you," Mai informed him, her voice a blend of business and pleasure. "Take your time getting changed. If you need assistance, I'm here," she assured, stepping out and drawing the curtain closed, leaving Allen in a pool of quiet contemplation amidst the soft rustle of fabrics.

Behind the closed curtain, Allen hesitated for a moment before peeling off the damp clothing that clung to his frame, revealing the feminine undergarments beneath. Methodically, he fashioned the pair of tights into a doughnut shape, positioning his freshly painted red toenails at its centre. He meticulously inched the tights up his smooth legs, painstakingly ensuring his claw-like nails didn't damage the delicate material. Once secured around his slender waist, he felt the embrace of the fabric; constricting, yes, but also a cocoon of warmth contrasting the chill of his previous attire.

The top, crafted from a lush, thick fabric, draped effortlessly over him. As he adjusted its fit, an attached belt cinched around his torso, accentuating his narrow waist. With some reluctance, Allen's gaze shifted to the black leather mini skirt. Though not his favourite piece, he had no other choice. Sliding his legs through, he inched the material upwards until its hem rested teasingly just above the patterned portion of his tights, high on each thigh. A sharp inhale aided the fastening of the skirt's front zipper, which, once secured, felt like a second skin, stretched taut over his frame.

Settling back onto the bench, the leather squeaked in protest against the wood, drawing a groan from the feminized man. Next, he surveyed the boots - formidable with their towering platforms and blocky heels. He sighed, heavily, the weight of the day's events evident in the subtle smudge of his mascara. One foot, then the other, slipped into the boots. Surprisingly, they provided more support than anticipated. The boots' design - with their pronounced platform and sturdy heel - offered a surprising degree of stability and comfort.

Cloaked once more in the plush embrace of the fur coat, Allen took a moment to collect himself, nerves bubbling just beneath the surface. Taking a steadying breath, he informed Mai, “I think I’m ready.”

"Step out and let's see!" Mai beckoned from just beyond the curtain.

Emerging hesitantly, Allen initially stumbled under the spotlight of the store. However, Mai's excited clapping soon made him feel more at ease. “Wow, Sofia,” she exclaimed excitedly. “You look like a rock star. So cool and edgy. Oh! But wait a moment. Let me try something!”

Allen watched as Mai scampered towards the centre of the store. She returned with a lilac wig. “Those plaits you have are cute. But they don’t match your new edgy look. Here. Try this,” Mai said as she gathered Allen’s plaits atop his head before positioning the wig on top. She then turned him to face the mirror.

“What do you think? Like a real rockstar now, right? Real badass!” Mai said as Allen stared open-mouthed at his reflection in the large store mirror. The transformed vision that stared back was both fierce and magnetic. He grappled with mixed feelings; while he felt a twinge of excitement from his trapped member while examining the confident diva in the mirror, he wasn't sure how he felt being her.

“Hey! Sofia. Turn this way,” Yamato called from a distance. For a split second, Allen had forgotten about his omnipresent cameraman. He spun around, meeting Yamato's intrusive lens and leering gaze. “Show us a sexy pose,” Yamato drawled, his voice laden with sleaze.

(See image 31)

The provocatively framed request was the last straw. The weight of the past few weeks pressed down on him, and he snapped. Turning to Mai, he declared, "Mai, I’ll take the outfit, and I’m going to wear it out.” And then, sparing Yamato a fleeting glance, he added, “Yamato, take care of the bill, will you?”

The incredulity on Yamato's face as Allen turned back towards Mai was immensely satisfying. “Mai, could you remove these tags please and bag up my old clothes? Yamato will carry them out.”

Mai, seizing the moment and eager to cement the sale, immediately sprang into action. “Of course, Miss Sofia, I have a pair of scissors by the counter. This way please,” she replied as the two strutted towards the counter, leaving Yamato open-mouthed and dazed.