Caught between a rock and a high heel 17

With a fiery determination, Kieron burst into Becca's office, his emotions running high. "Enough is enough!" he cried out, his arms tightly folded across his still-tender chest. Startled by his sudden appearance, Becca took in the sight of the pouting man before her and let out a weary sigh. These outbursts had become all too frequent, especially this week, and it was beginning to feel like Groundhog Day. The last thing she needed when working late on a Friday evening was to deal with yet another episode.

As she assessed Kieron's altered appearance, Becca tried to figure out the best way to handle the situation. With a deep breath, she finally spoke up, her voice laced with an attempt at sincerity. "I have to say, it doesn't look that bad," she remarked, eyeing him up and down. "New hairdo? Nails?"

Kieron's frustration boiled over as he kicked off his torturous high heels, wincing in pain. "It's all stuck solid," he cried out, his voice tinged with despair. "The hair, the nails, even these damn eyelashes," he grumbled as he trudged across the room on his pantyhose-clad feet. "It's going to take weeks for my chest and lips to heal, and now I have to deal with all of this crap on top!"

Becca let out an exasperated sigh, muttering under her breath as she rolled her eyes. "At least!" she muttered sarcastically.

"What did you say?" Kieron asked, his voice sharp as he slumped onto the sofa in Becca's home office, his hands fidgeting awkwardly in his lap as he gazed down at his newly extended nails.

"Nothing," Becca replied, closing her laptop and swivelling her chair to face him. "As I said before, it's not the end of the world. The hair and nails can be easily chopped off, and those eyelash extensions will start to fall out soon enough."

Kieron shook his head, looking bewildered. "But it just feels so strange," he protested, fluttering his long, primped lashes and holding up his hands. "I can't even use my hands properly with these things stuck on, and my eyes keep watering."

Becca nodded sympathetically, her expression kind. "I understand it's uncomfortable," she said gently, offering a reassuring smile. "But there's a simple solution. You could just go back tomorrow and get them trimmed down. I'm sure the beauticians would be happy to help if you asked nicely."

Kieron recoiled in horror, the thought of returning to the salon filling him with dread. "Go back? No way," he protested vehemently, the memory of the team of beauty experts swarming around him all too vivid in his mind. The last thing he wanted was to spend his morning off back in that awful place.

(See image 33)

"Listen, Kieron. I know this whole situation has been difficult for you, and I acknowledge that it was a stupid idea. But if you can just hang in there for one more week, I’ll buy you a plane ticket, and we can put an end to this," Becca said, her tone sincere.

"Really?" Kieron exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement as he leaned forward eagerly. "That's fantastic! But why do we have to wait another week?"

Becca sighed, rolling her eyes. "My sister called today, and it turns out she's coming back," she explained. "Couldn't handle a full season at the ski resort, it seems."

Kieron's smile faded slightly as a look of confusion crossed his heavily made-up face. "But we can't just swap places, right?" he asked hesitantly.

"Correct, you two don't look anything alike, but if she wants her room back, she's going to have to find some sort of solution to this mess," Becca said, nodding her head. "One that doesn't reflect badly on me."

"So, one more week, okay," Becca said with a determined tone, locking eyes with Kieron. "Now, why don't you take a bubble bath and unwind? I need to get back to work."

Kieron felt a wave of relief wash over him as he nodded in agreement. With his legs feeling sore and exhausted, he started towards the exit, ready to relax. But as he was about to leave, Becca shouted out to remind him to take his discarded shoes.

Feeling a pang of annoyance, Keiron bent down to retrieve the towering heels in a very ladylike fashion. He had somehow survived a week of wearing them, but he knew the worst was yet to come. Tomorrow, he would be wearing an even higher pair for his outing into the city, a thought that filled him with complete and utter dread!

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Kieron's discomfort was palpable as he sat in the plush backseat of the luxurious car that had been arranged for him. Despite the complimentary champagne, he couldn't bring himself to enjoy the ride. His attention was focused on his appearance, which felt foreign and uncomfortable. Looking down through his feathery lashes, he grimaced at the sea of white fabric that draped over his injected chest, tapered around his waist, and flared around his shaven thighs.

Reaching up, Kieron let out a deep sigh of frustration as he removed a hair stuck to his sticky, pink lips, placing it back with the other flat-ironed tendrils that hung over his shoulders like an alien appendage. He couldn't understand why anyone would voluntarily subject themselves to this level of inconvenience and discomfort. The constant flutter of his lashes and sway of his hair was a distraction, as were his long, extended nails, which forced him to rethink even the most basic actions. Over the last twenty-four hours, he had struggled to relearn how to grasp and manipulate objects with his hands, moving slowly and purposefully to avoid the intense pain he had already experienced after catching one of his nails on a door handle.

Kieron knew that his hands wouldn't be the only hindrance for him that afternoon. Next to his feet lay a pair of pumps with a monstrous heel that had been sent for him to review. The mere sight of them sent shivers down his spine, and the thought of wearing them again made him feel sick to his stomach. Hobbling to the car from Becca's apartment had been an ordeal in itself as he was forced to adopt tiny mincing steps. With his gaze focused downwards, he avoided any uneven ground as his calf muscles stretched to breaking point.

As he approached his destination, Kieron's anxiety began to mount. But just as the butterflies in his stomach had begun to riot, his phone rang, providing a much-needed distraction. Fumbling through his bag with his cumbersome nails, he finally located his work phone and saw that it was Gina calling. He answered, struggling to hold the receiver with his acrylic talons, and said hello.

"Kiera! Are you there yet?" Gina's bubbly voice sang out, breaking through the tension that had been building up inside the cross-dressed Irishman.

"Uh, yeah," Kieron replied, his heart sinking as the car door swung open. "I've just arrived. Why?" he asked, hoping for a reprieve.

"Oh, nuts, that's unfortunate," Gina replied, her annoyance evident in her voice. "Ruth just called and said she would be running a little late."

"How late?" Kieron asked, looking up to see the driver offering his hand to help him out of the car.

"Thirty minutes or so," Gina replied. "She said you could wait at the table or go do a little window shopping or something. The driver will take you anywhere you want to go."

Kieron sighed, feeling trapped. The last thing he wanted to do was sit alone at a table in his flashy outfit, but he also couldn't bear the thought of walking around in the daunting pair of shoes that lay on the floor of the car. Holding the phone with his shoulder, he reached down and slipped his polished toes into the heels. Once they were snug, he placed one foot on the ground for balance before carefully placing the other on the ground outside the car, trying to avoid the emasculating action of taking the driver's hand. "I'll wait for her inside," he said, resigned to his fate. Walking anywhere in his current footwear was not an option.

(See image 34)

"Okay, the booking is under her name," Gina said. "Everything's complimentary, so order a drink or two while you wait."

"Thanks, Ginaaaahh," Kieron replied, her name trailing off as his ankle rolled, sending the feminized man tumbling towards the ground. But as he braced for impact, the driver swooped in and caught him in his strong arms.

Feeling utterly humiliated, Kieron looked up at the driver, who smiled reassuringly. "Thanks," Kieron squeaked, feeling like a shell of a man.

"Don't mention it, miss," the driver replied, steadying Kieron and ensuring that he could stand on his own again. "Here, let me grab your coat and bag from the car," he added, scurrying off to retrieve Kieron's belongings.

"Kiera, are you okay?" Gina's voice rang out through the phone in Kieron's hand, but the dazed Irishman was lost in thought. As he watched the driver dart towards the car, he longed when he too was able to move about so freely without constantly feeling restricted in the name of fashion.