Lockdown! 26

4 months later, 12.10 PM

After a relaxing bubble bath, Paul stepped out of the tub, smelling like freshly cut wildflowers. Plucking a towel from the rack with the tips of his pink acrylic nails, he wrapped it around his chest before looking down in a trance at the ginormous mounds jutting out.

It had been almost two months since the “minor surgery” had left him with a pair of double D’s, and he was still trying to get his head around the fact they were his. The heavy masses were impossible to ignore. Constantly getting in the way and throwing him off balance, especially while tottering around atop six-inch stilettos, the only shoes he ever seemed to wear these days.

Closing his eyes for a second, Paul felt the towel constrict against his girls as he filled his lungs with air before turning to face the bathroom mirror. He opened them to find a stranger looking back at him. A young, dare he say it, pretty girl with her long platinum blonde hair piled atop her head contrasting her dark fake tanned skin.

(See image 35)

Shaking his head, Paul chuckled at the absurdity of it all. His transformation from beer-drinking alpha male to the alluring temptress he saw before him was still shocking to see.

The memory of waking up in the hospital, sore and groggy, only to be told the facial feminization surgery, he’d been forced into, had been a great success, was possibly one of the worst moments of his life. Perhaps only topped when he first laid eyes on his bruised and puffy face as the doctor removed his bandages with Gwen's deranged smiling face looking on. The bruising had now subsided, and the swelling had settled down, but what replaced it was equally as horrifying in Paul’s mind.

Stood on the cold bathroom floor, Paul turned his head from side to side, examining his skin for any spots as he tried not to dwell on surgical changes made to his jawline and eyes. With no pimples in sight, he opened his makeup kit before collecting together the assortment of brushes and myriad of cosmetics he needed to beautify his face.

As always, he started with moisturiser, spreading the creamy solution around carefully and trying to avoid poking himself with a nail. It was the first step of his forty-five-minute makeup routine. A routine most people would argue wasn’t even necessary given the fact that Paul’s natural look was more attractive than a lot of girls with a full face of makeup. Well, perhaps natural wasn’t really the correct word to use, given all the cosmetic procedures he went through on a weekly basis. But even so, without any effort on his part, he always looked photo-ready.

Eyelash extensions, perming, and tinting had widened his eyes to provide a dark dramatic look. The perfectly shaped brows that sat above were ever-present after the microblading. And his lips always seemed to pop after being tinted a few shades darker than their natural pigment.

Whether the application of makeup was necessary or not though, was insignificant. Paul didn't have a say in how he looked these days. He was expected to present himself in a certain way. And with only one hour until he needed to leave the apartment, he knew he needed to get a move on

1.35 PM

“Here’s your receipt, Kylie,” The cheerful sales clerk said, handing a small cardboard envelope to Tim.

“Thanks, Bonnie, he replied, forcing a smile onto his painted lips before placing the receipt into his small purse.

Passing Tim a sturdy-looking carrier bag, Bonnie stepped to the side. “Enjoy the rest of your day, see you again soon, yeah?

“You sure will,” Tim answered, dropping his smile the moment his back turned. It’s not like he didn’t like Bonnie. She was nice enough and often helped him out. He just wasn’t feeling very cheerful today. Worked to the bone in an industry he hated, the qualified accountant, wearing a pretty little dress, sheer hose, and high-heeled pumps, just wanted a day off from it all.

Willing his exhausted legs to keep moving, Tim strutted loudly across the shop floor and took one final look at the products on offer, the coat in the corner catching his eye. He was still annoyed that they didn’t have it in the size that he was looking for. He would now have to visit their sister store to purchase it, and with the straps of his sparky footwear digging into his ankles, the prospect of the walk over there was perhaps the last thing on Earth he wanted to do in that moment.

“At least, I managed to pick up the bag and the skirt,” he thought to himself as he stepped out into the brightly lit, seemingly deserted shopping centre. The emptiness didn’t surprise him of course, knowing all too well how fleeting customers were these days. Being a rainy Tuesday afternoon probably didn’t help either.

Turning left, Tim marched on as the tightness of his dress forced his pantyhosed thighs to swish and rub together with each and every painful step he took. Until suddenly, he parted his rubbery lips, letting loose a frustrated grunt as he looked up through his heavy lashes towards the gigantic clock hanging in the centre of the large multi-floored room. As always when out shopping on his lunch break, the time just seemed to speed by and disappear. With only twenty-five minutes until he was expected back in work, he knew he’d have to hurry if he didn’t want to be late.

Quickening his pace, Tim strode on as his forceful footsteps echoed loudly throughout the area. He knew that if he hurried, he would just about have enough time to finish buying what he needed. Unfortunately for him, he also knew it was going to come at the cost of not eating as he mentally prepared himself for another, painfully boring afternoon shift with only a growling empty stomach for company.

(See image 36)