The Mule 11

Ethan's eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the woman who had drastically transformed his appearance, exiting the room. With a sense of urgency, he turned to face her and asked, "Are you leaving?" His eyes were startled, but his facial features were expressionless.

With a warm and genuine smile, the woman turned to him and replied, "Yes, I am done here. But I wish you good luck." Ethan felt a pang of desperation in his chest, suddenly not wanting to be alone. "Wait!" he yelled, stumbling forward a few steps as his calf muscles stretched uncomfortably due to the height of his heels. "What happens now?"

The woman nodded her head in understanding, "Someone will join you shortly. Until then, perhaps you could check the minibar. Seeing how fancy this place is, there's sure to be some good stuff in there."

It didn't take Ethan long to work out who this "someone" might be. The horrible realization felt like taking a baseball bat to his augmented chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and leaving him at a loss for words. He managed to stutter out a few syllables before his voice trailed off, leaving his pouty lips hanging open and his eyelashes fluttering wildly in front of his distress-filled eyes.

With nothing left to say, Ethan watched in silence as the woman collected her equipment and left the suite, leaving him alone and afraid. With a deep sigh, he minced over to the sofa and sat down - his training having become second nature at this point, causing him to do this in a very ladylike manner. Bringing his hands up to his face, Ethan dug his long nails into his scalp, unsure of whether he wanted to scream out in anger or break down and cry.

Catching a glimpse of a strand of blonde hair in his peripheral, Ethan reached over to grasp it between his pink-tipped talons. He gave it a little tug, confirming it was firmly attached before slowly shaking his head in amazement, finding it hard to believe how much his appearance had changed in such a short space of time.

The silence in the room was broken by the sound of muffled voices on the other side of the suite door. Snapping his head around to locate the source of the noise, Ethan's heart raced as he braced himself for what was to come. Then, in what felt like slow motion, the door suddenly swung open.

In strode Hector, dressed in a pair of tailored pants and a shirt with the top few buttons undone. The sharply dressed man took a few steps forward before stopping in his tracks, looking surprised for a moment to see the blonde bombshell on the sofa glaring back at him with hate-filled eyes. However, he quickly regained his composure as a huge smile broke out across his handsome face.

Meanwhile, as the man responsible for all the misery he had endured over the last month strode confidently over to join him on the sofa, Ethan remained motionless despite the feeling of fury building within him as he noticed the satisfied look on Hector's face.

(See image 22)

Hector's sly smile only widened as he greeted Ethan in a patronizing tone. "Hello, Ethan," he said as if nothing were amiss. "You look well."

Ethan was flabbergasted and infuriated by Hector's comment. He stuttered for a few moments before finally managing to let out an angry puff of air through his nostrils. "Fuck you, Hector," he spat out, his voice filled with venom. "You sick bastard."

Hector seemed to take the insult in stride, chuckling to himself. "Now, now, that's no way for a lady to talk," he replied, his tone laced with condescension.

Ethan's arms flew through the air in an animated fashion as he yelled back at Hector. "Don't you fucking laugh at me, you son of a bitch! Why did you do this to me? Why put me in Emiliana's clothes? Why give me her hairstyle? Is this your kink - dressing men up as women?!"

Suddenly, Hector's whole demeanour changed. "Enough!" he roared, pointing his finger menacingly in Ethan's face. "Don't you dare say her name! And after what you did, you have no right to call yourself a man. You're a coward and a rat."

Ethan's plump bottom lip began to tremble, and he lowered his head in defeat. Once, he would have stood up to Hector and argued his case with more authority, but now, sitting there in a tight-fitting gown with his hair and makeup done up like he was on his way to prom, his confidence was at rock bottom. He felt utterly humiliated and powerless, like a passenger in his own body.

"Do you know what your father asked me to do?" Ethan's voice trembled as he spoke.

With lightning-quick reflexes, Hector seized Ethan's chin with his strong grip, turning his face to meet his own. "He asked you to serve the family," Hector replied, his tone unwavering and authoritative. "The same family you sought to join when you proposed to my sister."

Ethan's face was trapped in Hector's hold, and he began to panic. "But you betrayed us, didn't you?" Hector continued, his voice unyielding. "You vanished two days before the wedding, leaving without a word. Emiliana was devastated and convinced that something terrible had happened to you. For weeks, she searched for you, pleading with our father for help and defending your character."

As Hector finally released Ethan's face, the trembling man quickly scooted away across the sofa, trying to put some distance between himself and the imposing figure. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice shaking with fear.

For what Hector had to say next, his tone shifted to become calmer, but his words still carried a weighty impact. "Those were the same words Emiliana spoke to our father when we found out you were safe and back in the United States," he explained. "As punishment, she was disowned and cast out. Instead of living the life you promised her – Treated like a princess in the United States, she lost everything."

Ethan's voice cracked as he begged for forgiveness. "Please, I'm sorry," he pleaded, holding back tears. "Just tell me what I need to do to make this right. But please, let Ava go. She's innocent in all of this."

Hector's lips twisted into a small smile as he crossed his legs casually. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Ethan," he said, his tone deceptively calm. "Very well, in two days' time, you'll return home to America, but not as Ethan Morgan, the liar and cheat. From this moment on, you'll be known as Penelope Reyes - a girly girl who expresses her femininity through her actions and appearance. To atone for your sins, you'll experience the life you once promised my sister - the life of a princess."

Ethan was stunned and horrified as the full weight of Hector's words hit him, causing him to start hyperventilating. "If I do this..." he gasped out, struggling to speak. "You'll... let Ava go?"

Hector rose to his feet, his answer slow and deliberate. "Once your penance is complete, she'll be released," he confirmed. "Until then, she's our insurance - just in case you decide to do something foolish, like go to the police."

Ethan's voice was barely audible as he asked his next question. "And how long will this punishment last?" he stammered, looking up at Hector, feeling fear unlike he’d ever experienced before, even if his Botox-filled face remained frozen in place.

(See image 23)

Hector's smile widened as he spoke. "That will depend entirely on you," he said, eyeing Ethan up and down. "While you're in the States, you won't just be pretending to be Penelope Reyes. You must fully embrace her - every breath you take through those luscious new lips, every thought that crosses your pretty little head must be about fashion and looking your best. No one can suspect, even for a moment, that you're anything other than what you appear to be - a vapid, possession-obsessed bimbo who lives for the approval of others, especially men."

Ethan felt sick to his stomach, every word of Hector's speech like a sharp knife twisting in his gut. Every sly smile, every gesture, felt like torture. The thought of actually doing what Hector was suggesting - going home to America and acting like some brainless bimbo - felt like a fate worse than death.

With Ethan staring blankly into space, Hector took a few steps towards the exit before turning back to face the traumatized man. "Come along, Penelope," he commanded, a devious smile playing across his lips. "I'm starving, and since you've dressed up so nicely, you can accompany me to dinner."

Ethan gulped, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over him. He wanted to refuse, to tell Hector to go to hell. But instead, he just bowed his head and took a deep breath, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.