The beautiful game - Remastered 06

Chapter 6 - Her true colours

In the weeks that followed, Milos tried to forget about what had happened, deciding to put all his energy towards helping the team succeed, and if that also meant, for the time being, learning how to live life as Milena Ivanovic, star striker and local celebrity, that’s just what he would do. 

He followed all of Sonja’s instructions without complaint, which meant dressing in the clothes she chose, completing his daily squats, and keeping to his low-calorie diet, which was having quite a noticeable effect on his body as he continued to lose weight at an alarming rate.

Sonja on the other hand was far from happy with Milos’ new attitude, she used to enjoy watching him squirm and complain, it had given her great satisfaction. Now, it seemed no matter what she did, he just went along with it, showing little to no emotion in the process.

Determined to get a reaction from him, Sonja decided to see how far she could push him, first by making him change his nail colour daily, a tedious task she was sure he'd hate, but to her surprise, Milos just got on with it without any fuss.

She next emptied his wardrobe of all pants and removed all the shoes with anything less than a stilt-like heel, but again Milos never uttered a word in protest, he just wore the clothes left behind and got on with things.

As Sonja continued trying to embarrass and humiliate Milos, the other girls in the apartment started to distance themselves from her. They didn't like or agree with the way she was treating him, telling her on multiple occasions that she was taking things too far.

Her friends turning against her, just made Sonja angrier, adding to her reasons to hate Milos, now blaming him for taking her friends away from her. But as bitter and angry as she was, looking down at the front cover of the newspaper over breakfast, one morning, really sent her over the edge.

Looking back at her, smiling, and posing was Milos. The picture was accompanied by an article that talked about him being an inspiration and a hero, someone all local young women should look up to and aspire to be like. 

She grabbed the paper, tore it in half and flung it across the room, “it should be me, not him” she screamed, “he's stolen it from me”. 

In that moment, Sonja made a plan to destroy him whatever the cost, starting with his reputation and public image.

A few days later, she put the first stage of her plan into motion, informing Milos that he needed to experience a proper girl's night out, and that meant dressing up and visiting a nightclub.

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Stood in front of his bedroom mirror, Milos had a bad feeling about the night ahead. He knew girls who went out dancing to clubs normally dressed up, but the girl in the mirror looking back at him, wearing a black PVC mini dress that hugged her body like a glove, sky-high heels any normal person would struggle to even stand in, and with his face caked in makeup, he knew he was going to draw a lot of unwanted attention that night.

Entering the living room, concentrating on the placement of his feet, and swinging his little handbag, Milos' thoughts consumed by the tight restrictive tugging feeling of the rubbery material on his bare thighs as his tiny PVC dress clung to him with each mincing step he took.

As he walked, he was forced to roll his hips and ass from side to side seductively, it was the only way he was able to move on his towering heels if he wanted to avoid falling straight on his face, his heavily painted face that was bothering him more than anything else that evening.

After a trip out with Sonja the previous day, it had taken all his willpower to remain calm and not scream after he was left with long thick eyelash extensions, which now fluttered in front of his face and felt extremely heavy drenched in mascara.

The other surprise of the day and perhaps the most shocking was when he was shown his reflection in the mirror, only to be greeted by pair of plump balloon-like lips, twice their original size thanks to being pumped full of collagen. They still felt strange and numb and currently slathered in bright red lipstick gave him a very exotic adult look.

(See image 6.1)

“Oh, look at you", Sonja announced with a smile as Milos trotted up, "we're going to have to watch you, you're going to drive all the boys wild tonight, in that sexy dress you little slut”.

“Thank you, Sonja, I like your outfit too”, Milos replied looking her dead in the eye and smiling, having realised a while back that the best way to get back at her was not to react the way she wanted, and right now he could see she was fuming.

Sonja rolled her eyes, “whatever”, she said flicking her hand towards him, “it’s time to go, don’t forget to put some condoms in your purse, a dirty little whore like you is bound to need them”, she added standing up and clearly annoyed as she stomped towards him.

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The four girls took a taxi to the club and barely spoke on the journey with Milos taking the time to reflect on how he had ended up in his current predicament, wasn’t he just supposed to play football? he kept asking himself.

How had he ended up having to sit through painful weekly waxing sessions, his face never without a coat of makeup, and his daily hygiene and haircare routines getting longer by the day? 

He looked down at his bare legs, his skin had taken on an unnatural orange colour from all the fake tan that had been rubbing into it and his PVC skirt riding high up his thighs. He reached down to adjust it but quickly failed and gave up, his nails, once again getting in the way, making everything so much more difficult.

He had somehow let himself be transformed into Sonja’s human Barbie doll at her beck and call to dress up and humiliate whenever she wanted. 

But as he sat in the back of the taxi, squished in the middle seat between Sara and Katya, worried about the night ahead, Milos vowed not to let it break him, in a few months everything would go back to normal. He just had to hold on until then, besides, he'd made a promise to Coach, he just had to find a way to put up with Sonja until then and focus on helping the team win their remaining games.

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The night in the club didn’t start off too badly. Once inside, Milos and the other girls quickly ditched Sonja and went straight towards the dance floor to let off some steam. 

Watching the girls dance around in their skimpy outfits, Milos tried his best to imitate their body movements, rocking his body from side to side in time with the beat, and swaying from one high heeled pump to the other.

That evening, the girls were in a flirty mood as they danced around Milos, running their hands over the sleek material of his dress and down his smooth legs. The attention was driving him crazy as he felt the girls run their hands down his sensitive body and after a few minutes, he was getting really turned on, which was a comfortable experience with his penis strapped tightly between his legs. Making an excuse, Milos tottered off toward the bathroom to cool down.

When he returned, Sonja had found the group and had even bought them a round of drinks. Not wanting to look ungrateful, Milos accepted the Vodka and orange and sipped away through the straw.

It wasn’t long before the room started to spin, suddenly finding increasingly it difficult to keep his balance in his towering high heel pumps. Panicking Milos stumbled away from the group to try and find somewhere to sit. 

As he pushed his way through the crowd of people dancing, he couldn’t understand what was happening, he knew his tolerance for alcohol was not what it once was, but even so, he had only had two drinks.

The rest of the night was a blur with only partial memories. He could remember being surrounded by men as he desperately pushing away hands as they ran all over his body before falling into the arms of some random man who spun him around for a sexy dance.

He remembered the feeling of the man’s scratchy beard nuzzling into his neck and the stranger’s erection grinding itself against his rubber-clad buttocks.

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He woke up in his bed the next afternoon still dressed in his clubbing outfit, lifting his pounding head to see makeup stains all over his pillow. rolling over he leaned down, to try and unbuckle the straps holding his heels from his screaming feet. His body ached all over and he felt as though he was about to throw up.

It was the worse hangover he had ever experienced and as a result, Milos spent the rest of the day in bed not wanting to admit to himself what he knew to be true. He didn’t want it to be true, but he just couldn’t come up with an alternative explanation as to what happened.  His drink had been spiked and all signs pointed to Sonja as the culprit.

Wondering how to approach the subject, Milos decided just to come right out with it, asking Sonja straight to her face. She responded by calling him crazy and telling him he just had too much to drink before changing the subject. 

Milos left the conversation with a strong suspicion she knew more than she was letting on but with no definite proof, he decided to try and move on, being extra careful with his drinks in future and especially around Sonja. After all, he knew from past hardships, dwelling on the experience as painful as it was, wouldn't help. he just wanted to move on focusing on the good things in his life and the ones he could control.

Over the next few weeks, Milos ignored Sonja as much as he could. Unlike most of the other girls on the team, who needed to supplement their meagre salary from the football club with another job, Milos was unemployed, allowing him to spent most of his time either in the gym or out on the pitch practising.

He enjoyed his time at the gym as could use it as an excuse to get away from Sonja and the out of the girly outfit for a few hours.

After only a week, Milos could already see a difference, his endurance had improved, and he felt fitter and stronger than he had ever been before. The only problem was these weren’t the only changes he had been noticing lately.

His hips and ass were definitely getting bigger, giving him a rather sexy looking booty especially in his tight yoga pants gave him a particularly disturbing womanly figure.

He initially put the change in the shape down to all the squats and sprints he was doing but when he noticed his chest becoming a little puffy and his nipples become enlarged and tender, he knew something was wrong.

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On was a Saturday evening and after another big win, Milos stood in his room about to leave for yet another torturous night out clubbing. The team had won 9-3 that afternoon with Milos having scored an incredible eight of the goals, impressive even by his recent high standards. The win had left the Tigers only two points behind the Wolves with the media tipping them to reclaim top spot before too long.

Sonja as usual had picked out his outfit for the evening and having put on the tight sparkly halter top, skin-tight mini skirt, sheer tights, and tall platform pumps, he gazed at the reflection of the stranger in his bedroom mirror.

He shook his head watching his perfectly curled blonde hair flutter around his heavily made-up face, the latest change to his appearance, making him look even more feminine and giving Sonja even more ammunition in her name-calling. Dumb blonde, plastic Barbie, and bimbo now common names used to refer to him.

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Expecting it to be either Sara or Katya as Sonja wouldn’t bother knocking, Milos made his way across the room on his elevated shoes, noting how comfortable they actually felt due to their taller platform front.

Flinging open the door Milos gasped in surprise, it wasn’t Sara or Katya or even Sonya but Coach, stood outside his bedroom door and looking almost as shocked as him.

For a moment, they both just stared at each other, Milos surprised as Coach had never visited him at the apartment before, feeling extremely embarrassed to be seen all dolled up in his clubbing gear.

Dejan surprised to find Milos in full makeup, dressed up like the girls he saw hanging outside the clubs in the city. He felt very awkward having to remind himself that the leggy blonde in front of him was actually Milos, the orphan boy he had taken in, as his eyes began to wander.

(See image 6.2)

“Milos, sorry, I mean, Milena, can I talk to you for a second”? Dejan said looking him up and down, his eyes lingering just a little too long on Milos’ long nylon encased legs.

“Err… sure”, Milos answered, embarrassed and trying to cover his breasts with his arms, “what’s up Coach”?

“Well, we might have a problem, can I come in”? Dejan asked.

Milos nodded and stepped to the side, allowing Coach into his room. He watched as Coach moved the stool from in front of his vanity and positioned it in the centre of the room, “please, take a seat”, Dejan said taking charge as always and pointing towards Milos’s bed.

Sitting awkwardly on the stool, Dejan watched as Milos himself awkwardly sat down, carefully positioning his plump rear down onto the mattress before tugging on the sides of his tiny skirt, which was short enough to be a belt. Giving up, Milos instead placed his hands between his thighs to stop his panties from showing as Dejan gulped before quickly looking away.

Feeling extremely awkward, Dejan decided to get straight to the point. “So, the thing is, as you already know, lately you have caught the attention of the media”, he said before pausing.

Seeing Milos was listening, he continued, “you see, not only are you probably the best player to have ever played in this league, hell perhaps any woman’s league, with all the nights out, the way you look, and dressing like a… err…”, Dejan paused once more. seeing the look on Milos' face and not sure how to finish his sentence. Instead, he pulled out his phone and showed Milos a picture from a popular news website that specialised in celebrity gossip.

If Milos hadn’t felt humiliated enough before, he now felt now ten times worse as he carefully took the phone from Coach, trying not to poke him with one of his long acrylic nails decorated with shining fake jewels.

He peered down through his thick lashes seeing the headline, “Milena Ivanovic, sexy striker has sexy stroll in the city”, and gasped.

He read on, “Milena Ivanovic star striker of the Tigers, sexes it up in her latest set of raunchy outfits. The 5”4 goal machine is not afraid to show off her alluring figure as she goes about her daily business wearing in outfits most people would consider clubwear at a push".

Milos having read enough, scrolled down to see two pictures that accompanied the article. In the first, he was sitting on a set of steps wearing the obscenely short black dress that barely covered his backside. The top portion showing an ample amount of cleavage and paired with his suede over the knee boots and heavy makeup, he looked completely out of place in the middle of the day.

The picture was quite old, but he remembered it being taken. He and Sonja were about to leave on one of their many shopping trips and having gone on ahead to get a few minutes of peace away from her, he was sitting on the steps outside their apartment. 

The man appeared out of nowhere and just started taking pictures of him while asking him where he was going. Milos remembered telling the man he was going shopping and after a few more question the man left leaving Milos to go about his day in the uncomfortable and impractical outfit.

The second picture was a more recent one. It was from a night out in the city, and he was dressed to impress. He was wearing a stretchy blue mini dress that showed off his blossoming feminine curves. His thighs shined due to the sheer tights encasing his long sexy legs and the look on his face gave away the fact he’d had quite a few drinks that evening.

Day by day, the number of people following him around and taking pictures had steadily increased to the point, where now, no matter where he went, the media always seemed to find him, it was almost as if someone was tipping them off as to his location.

Humiliated and embarrassed Milos passed the phone back to Coach and brought his hand up to cover his face. There was a moment of silence, before he spoke, “Coach, this is not my fault, I told you about Sonja, she's always bossing me about me, I’m not allowed to choose what I wear!”

Dejan sighed, “yes, this is my fault, I should have paid more attention but with the team winning and everyone getting along so well, I took my eye off the ball. I’m sorry Milena, I should have listened to you”, he said scratching the side of his head, “but still I need to ask for your help one more time”.

“What does that mean”? Milos replied annoyed.

“Well, this new image of yours is bringing us a lot of attention that we could do without right now”, Dejan announced, “with us being so close to the end of the season, what if someone starts poking around into your past and finds out who you really are”?

Looking angry, Milos threw his hands into the air, “I never wanted to look like this, it was Sonja, I kept telling you, she’s crazy, look at me! look at this outfit she's making me wear out tonight! look at this hair! this body! these nails! Do you have any idea how hard it is to live with nails this long”? he said before staring at Coach with a sad pouty face.

Dejan again didn’t know where to look as he once again reminded himself who the sexy woman with the killer body in front of him was, “it’s too late to go back and change things now, we’re in too deep, we need to play the hand we’ve been dealt”, Dejan replied in a calm voice but inside feeling guilty over what he had allowed Sonja to do to the boy.

As Milos lowered his head, Dejan continued, “earlier today, I received a phone call from an editor of an online magazine, they want to write an article about you, a sort of rags to riches piece, they also want you to do a photoshoot”.

Milos’ head shot up and his mouth dropped open, “What a photoshoot!”, he exclaimed loudly, “no way, Coach, please, I can’t do that, I agreed to play football, I don’t want to be a model”.

“I had no choice but to agree, I’m sorry”, Dejan said apologetically, “we can’t have them snooping around and asking questions right now, it’s best to work with them so we can control what information goes to print”.

Seeing Milos visibly upset, Dejan moved over to the bed and placed his arm around the feminised boy.

“When will this end, coach”? Milos asked in a sad voice, looking up into Dejan’s dark eyes.

“Soon, I promise”, he answered stroking his fingers through Milos’ soft blonde hair”, “I need you, Milena, just a few more months then things can go back to normal, I promise, that is unless that psychopath Marko has me killed before then", he joked.

"Please, don't say things like that", Milos said pouting.

For a moment, the pair said nothing as they each stared deeply into the other's eyes, Dejan holding him tightly. 

Losing himself in the moment Milos moved his head slowly towards Coach. 

Dejan watched in slow motion as Milos' plump glossy red lips made their way towards his, he closed his eyes, before quickly opening them again and pulling away, “I should go”, Dejan said flustered, jumping to his feet, "I have to be up early in the morning and it's getting late".

“Um…. late, yeah, of course”, Milos replied embarrassed, seeing the clock on the wall that said it was just after 7 pm.

“Right, I guess I’ll see you in training then", Coach said unable to look him in the eye,  "don’t worry about the magazine shoot right now, I’ll take care of everything, everything will be ok, I promise”. 

And with that Coach was gone, leaving Milos sat on the bed feeling incredibly stupid and more confused than ever.

(See image 6.3)