The next few days of week three fell into a normal pattern.

In the morning, Chris would wake up (on time) using his pink phone. He would cough and clear his throat from the vapors of the air freshener coating his mouth before taking a long drink of pink water to combat his morning vertigo. He’d exit his bed and get ready for the day, which included checking his nail polish to ensure it was up to Miss Valentine’s satisfaction and reapplying it as needed.

In the bathroom, he found that he only needed to shave one time during the week. It was strange because he used to do it multiple times per week. He continued to attribute his lack of facial hair to his diet, but even that excuse was starting to seem far-fetched. Once his face was free of hair, Chris would thoroughly clean and apply his daily moisturizer, brush his teeth, and comb his shaggy hair.

After his bathroom activities were done, he’d spend a few minutes picking up his bedroom before getting dressed in general, ill-fitting workout attire. His shirts, pants, and even his shoes were suddenly too big! Chris believed he was very close to the target body weight for his upcoming role and hedged his bets that his diet would level out soon. If it didn't, he'd have to go out and buy new clothes before long!

With his room activities complete, Chris would descend the staircase and meet Miss Valentine, who would provide his light breakfast and morning pills. Every exercise for week three was jogging, jogging, and more jogging. This was generally done outside except for Friday, when the treadmill was used due to a rainstorm. As usual, upper body and strength-building exercises were completely absent.

With his continued light sensitivity, Chris had no choice but to wear Miss Valentine’s girly sunglasses and mask, as he couldn’t seem to locate his own anywhere in the house. He grew accustomed to wearing the girly accessories, and it didn’t bother him nearly as much by the end of the week. He figured it was just a mask and glasses; wearing them wasn't a big deal because nobody could possibly recognize him.

After the workout, Chris would drink his slimy, salty shake. The taste was starting to grow a little on Chris, and by the end of the week, he found himself mildly enjoying the taste. He'd then trudge upstairs for a shower using Miss Valentine’s products. Just like his growing enjoyment of the shakes, Chris was less bothered by the unpleasant odor of the shower products and even found himself looking forward to applying them.

Once clean, he'd make his way downstairs and watch ‘The Bachelorette’ while donning his flowery headphones. He found that his attention was becoming more and more difficult to control whenever the television was on, and an unusual brain fog seeped in whenever there was something playing. Chris tried to combat it, but the fog got thicker and thicker, heavier and heavier as the days slipped by. He attributed his brain issues to fatigue from a tough week. Regardless of the day or how he felt when first sitting down, Chris fell asleep after an episode or two. He knew his body was fatigued and didn't bother fighting a welcome nap.

Each day he'd wake up in a puddle of sweat and a vapor-coated throat. He'd shake away weird, bizarre dreams that flashed through his head. He tried to focus on them, but they were still too disjointed and incoherent for Chris to properly parse. Fortunately, like any dream, memories of them would soon fade. What didn’t fade, however, was his knowledge of the show. He’d become a secret superfan of ‘The Bachelorette’ just like he had with ‘Sex and the City’ and ‘Desperate Housewives.’

In the evening, Chris would then groggily enter the kitchen behind Miss Valentine while sucking down a bottle of sweet water. He would eat his sparse dinner and nighttime pills, then head upstairs to get ready for bed, which included his nightly skin care routine. His face and hands were quickly growing accustomed to the daily and nightly treatments, and he found himself mildly excited to moisturize his skin. Chris then spent time lying in bed and playing games on his cell phone, particularly ‘The Prince Ball.’ There was something about it that felt almost hypnotic, and he found himself losing chunks of time while staring at the masculine bodies of the princes. Chris would then pass out.

Miss Valentine showered with Chris every day they jogged outside. By the end of the week, she didn’t even ask him to join, and it was assumed that he wouldn’t mind. She didn’t show any sexual interest in Chris after the first day, and their naked interaction became mundane by Saturday afternoon. She treated Chris like they were two people that happened to be showering next to one another, almost like two people in a gym locker room. As the week progressed, Chris found himself less and less aroused by Miss Valentine’s naked body and even stopped trying to sneak peeks at her. He still saw her as attractive but figured their frequent nude interactions were dulling the allure. He attributed his low sex drive to the explosive orgasm he'd experienced on Monday. It must have killed his libido for the whole week!

He was excited on Saturday night for his upcoming Sunday with Sylvie. He definitely needed a break from the awkward interactions with Miss Valentine! He was excited to get to the Apple Store and buy himself a new cell phone, so he made sure to set his alarm for 8:30. It gave him plenty of time to get to the store, make his purchase, and get home in time for Sylvie to arrive at 10:00. He also wanted to find himself some new sunglasses and a new mask if possible. He was ready to finally have something more masculine to wear! He also had to remember to ask Sylvie about the apron incident on Monday. Hopefully she could help him avoid any future crap from Miss Valentine. With big plans for the following day, Chris drifted to sleep.

He dreamed that he was a princess surrounded by dresses, makeup, and all manner of accessories. He felt so pretty, young, and happy! The quiet, faraway voice of a woman was encouraging him to be cute, demure, and girly. It advised him that all these things surrounding him were good. He was momentarily tempted, but, thankfully, his own strong voice warned him about the woman, and he pushed away all the feminine things. He wasn't a princess!

He woke to the sound of his alarm.

Chris’ heart was filled with excitement. His morning nausea and dry mouth were quickly vanquished by a long drink of pink water. He didn’t even register the sweetness of the beverage any longer. He hopped out of bed and...right out of his boxer shorts! He pulled the fallen boxers up his slim hips, and they dropped to the floor once again. He shook his head; nothing fit him anymore! He walked to the bathroom butt naked. He coughed along the way as a cloud of air freshener sprayed into his path.

Chris stared at himself in the mirror and, as usual, couldn’t believe his eyes. Sylvie’s creams were a miracle! He looked like he was in his thirties again! The wrinkles and sagging skin he’d noticed the previous week were completely erased. His face looked rounder, softer, and suppler. He could hardly recognize himself!

Chris examined his physique and saw he was now borderline emaciated. But it wasn’t just that; he looked *weak*. His arms appeared like they had barely ever touched a dumbbell while his ribs were visible in his stomach. His upper body was diminished to such a point that it looked like a strong gust of wind could topple him.

His legs had lost a good portion of their muscle. They’d held out well up to this point, but even they had started to thin out. The hair that once coated them was sparse in some places and completely gone in others. That low-calorie diet was really devastating to his leg hair, it seemed!

He shook his shaggy brunette hair around his younger face. It may have been a little wily, but it was strong and thick!

He took a few minutes to fix and reapply his nail polish. Moisturizing his hands religiously was really starting to transform his hands just like his face. The fact that he hadn’t lifted weights or done anything physical with them recently only helped facilitate the change. They were soft, supple, and free of calluses and blemishes. These were definitely not ‘Captain America’ hands!

The only development Chris was actively worried about was his penis, which was...visibly diminished. It was definitely smaller, but it was hard to really gauge because he couldn’t seem to get an erection no matter how hard he tried. Since his encounter with Miss Valentine on Monday, he had remained totally flaccid. Even his balls had seemingly contracted!

Surely he was almost finished with the physical changes for the role. There was nothing left to give! Chris suspected he would simply maintain his current body moving forward. He was ready to have some prosthetics applied and wow the world!

Not wanting to waste any more time, Chris quickly brushed his teeth, combed his hair, applied his daily moisturizer, and took one last look at himself before heading back to his bedroom. He spent some time cleaning up the room and searching for any clothing that would fit him. He tried on the smallest shorts and shirt he owned, but the pants always fell and the shirts looked like a circus tent on his rail-thin frame.

In the bottom of his dresser drawer, Chris located a tiny pair of shorts and a very small black shirt.

He recognized the items as clothing left behind by his ex. He thought he’d gotten rid of them all, but it seemed there was one outfit left. He examined the items closely. Sure, they were women’s clothing, but they weren’t overtly feminine, and, honestly, they’d probably fit. Chris curiously slipped the shorts up his legs and pulled the shirt over his torso to confirm his suspicion. As expected, the small clothing fit his body decently enough. The shorts were a little too tight in the crotch and loose in the hips, while the shirt was a little tight on his shoulders and loose against his pecs. He turned in the mirror and saw the shorts were also loose against his ass. While a few thin layers of fat and muscle had beefed up his butt (from all the lower body exercises), it was still rather bony and thin. He twisted and turned, testing the limits of the clothing on his body in motion.

He stopped moving and looked again. The outfit didn’t look THAT feminine. In fact, Chris fancied himself rather stylish. He imagined his lithe body strutting on the catwalk in Paris, modeling the newest in men’s fashion. As he stared and evaluated, a quiet voice in the back of his head reassured him that he looked great! He figured if they were the only things he could fit in, he would just have to deal with it until he could get to the store for some new outfits. Besides, he couldn’t go out of the house with his pants falling down! It felt weird that the shorts were tight against his bare crotch, but he hadn’t gotten hard in almost a week, so any concern about an unwanted, public erection seemed pointless.

He checked his pink cellphone and saw it was already past 9:00! He had to get moving to get to the store! But now he had to make a decision: Does he go to the Apple Store for a cellphone or a clothing store for a new wardrobe? He couldn’t make it to both! He squirmed in his shorts and felt his sensitive penis rub uncomfortably against them. He reasoned that he could probably get a new mask and sunglasses at the clothing store as well if he chose to go there.

Chris ran down the stairs as his mind contemplated his options. The slightly ill-fitting outfit felt strange on his body, but infinitely better than his old clothing would. He entered the kitchen and pounded down his meager breakfast before swallowing his morning supplements. He collected his key ring from the kitchen cabinet and excitedly headed towards the door. He’d decided to go to the clothing store and buy some new outfits. He didn’t have to buy a whole new wardrobe, just enough to get by until he could bulk back up after production was over and fit into his old clothing.

He pulled open the door and hissed as the blinding light sent him reeling backwards. The pain had gotten worse! His eyes felt like they were burning from just one moment of bright sunlight! He stumbled back to the kitchen and retrieved Miss Valentine’s girly sunglasses and the rhinestone mask. He’d almost forgotten to cover his face!

Once the glasses were in place, Chris cautiously re-approached the front door and breathed a sigh of relief because his sensitivity was completely neutralized. He coughed when the nearby air freshener blasted him with a watery cloud, and he contemplated his situation. He couldn’t go on like this! Miss Valentine had informed him that his sensitivity would go away, but it was worse than ever! He had to talk to her about it; there must be something she could do!

He stretched the mask across his face, and the familiar odor of Miss Valentine and makeup filled his senses. Somehow, the mask still had that same smell even though he’d worn it and worked out in it for almost a full week.

He jogged to the garage and grinned as he eyed his prized possession. All Chris’ worries melted away when he spied his 1963 250 GTO Ferrari.

He hopped inside his baby. He hadn’t driven in almost three weeks! He was so excited! He inserted his key and…

The car didn’t start.

In fact, it didn’t make any noise whatsoever.

Chris’ stomach fluttered, and he turned the ignition again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. He retrieved his key and sat back in the expensive leather seat. He must have left a light on or something for those three weeks. The battery was dead!

He groaned and exited the vehicle. He scratched at his shaggy brown hair. How had he made that mistake!? He tapped his head in frustration. He was such an idiot! He would have to get a jump from Sylvie when she arrived. He popped the hood and examined the motor, just to be sure there was nothing more serious going on. He’d extensively researched the vehicle before buying it. He knew every part of the engine and how it functioned. He could basically take the thing apart and reassemble it!

As he stared down at the engine, however, Chris realized his memory was very rusty. He attempted to access his knowledge of engines and found it was fuzzy and non-distinct. He lifted a hose and poked at a metal tube, trying to remember what each part was with little success. He shook his head and threw up his hands in frustration. He just had too much going on to remember that stuff right now. He’d have to pull out the manual and study back up when he had time. Either way, he knew the problem was somehow related to the battery.

Chris sighed and somberly exited the garage, too sad to even look over his shoulder at his dead vehicle. Birds chirped and the wind rustled in the trees, but Chris was too depressed to pay attention. His poor car! He sulked towards the house and felt tears welling in his eyes. He sniffled and wiped them after entering the door. The familiar scent of women’s perfume hit him like a wall. Were those air fresheners spraying too much? It was crazy to Chris how he didn’t notice the smell after a few minutes of being in it.

He didn’t spend much time thinking about the perfume scent as he began openly weeping in the foyer. He swept his nearly chin-length hair from his face and rubbed his eyes. Why was he so emotional about some car trouble? He couldn’t control the tears no matter how hard he tried! He sniffled and glanced around in confusion while tears streaked his cheeks. What was wrong with him!?

The door to the house opened, and Sylvie’s smiling face poked in.

She exclaimed, “Wow, it smells so good and clean in here! How did you—”

Her cheery mood turned instantly to concern, and she rushed over.

“Are you okay, Chris? What’s wrong?” She asked softly.

Chris shook his head and tried to stop his tears. He was a grown man; he shouldn’t be crying like this, especially in front of a pretty woman! He blubbered, and his voice cracked a few times as if he were going through puberty. “It’s *sniff* it’s nothing, Sylvie. I’m *cough* I’m fine. My car, *sniff* my car just won’t start, *cough* It’s fine.”

Sylvie pulled him into a tight hug and patted the back of his head while shushing and whispering, “It’s okay. Life can get overwhelming sometimes, can’t it?”

Sylvie’s affection only pushed Chris’ emotions further, and he cried even harder. He shook in her arms and coughed at the latest puff of perfumed air. Sylvie grabbed Chris’ moisturized, painted hand and led him towards the living room. She was carrying a pink bag of some kind. She sat him down on the couch and procured a laptop. She clicked on the television, and ‘The Bachelorette’ started up. It instantly pulled Chris’ attention. It was the latest season, which Chris had not yet seen. He felt his tears slowing down as he fixated on the program, and his brain turned fuzzy.

Sylvie dabbed Chris’ eyes and smiled at him while encouraging him warmly, “See? Everything’s going to be okay!”

Chris kept his eyes transfixed on the show but offered some pushback alongside some residual sniffling, “But my *sniff* my car is dead, and I can’t *sniff* go anywhere without a jump. I need to go to the *sniff* store for clothes that fit.”

Sylvie spoke slowly in her melodic voice, “Aww, Chris, I wish I could help you with your car trouble, but I got dropped off here today, and my ride won’t be back till later tonight. You could always get Miss Valentine to help you in the morning; she drives that big Escalade. We also can’t go to the store because we have so much to do here. Normally I would take you, but not today. I’m sorry, Chris.”

Chris sighed and stared at the screen. “O-okay…”

The pair watched a few episodes of ‘The Bachelorette’ and engaged in conversation about it. Chris’ knowledge of the subject matter was vast and highly opinionated. ‘Desperate Housewives’ and ‘Sex and the City’ were also brought up and discussed in detail. Chris’ voice cracked multiple times throughout their conversation, and he felt less and less embarrassed each time.

Once he had fully recovered from his crying fit, Sylvie brought Chris his afternoon shake. As he sucked down the strawberry and salt-flavored beverage and stared absentmindedly at the screen, Sylvie hoisted the pink bag she’d brought onto the couch.

When the latest episode ended, Sylvie shut off the television, and Chris felt his thoughts returning as if out of a fog. He tipped the last few drops of shake into his mouth and chased it with a healthy dose of pink water. He quite enjoyed his shake today!

Sylvie opened her bag and turned it towards Chris. It was filled with makeup!

“Here’s our lesson for the day!” Sylvie chirped.

Chris’ face scrunched with confusion as he asked, “Why would I need to learn about makeup? Doesn’t the production have people for that?”

Sylvie nodded, “Of course we have professional makeup artists. Damn good ones too. But I’ve been told your character applies makeup in three separate scenes, so it’s important that you know what you’re doing with it.”

Chris’ eyebrows shot up with surprise. “’A Woman’s Soul’ has three makeup application scenes?”

Sylvie fiddled with some brushes and answered casually, “Of course, you have no idea how important makeup is for people in the trans community and women in general. I also hear one of those scenes is the quote-unquote ‘Oscar bait’ scene, so I suggest you listen closely.”

Chris apprehensively glanced down at the makeup bag. He’d worn sparse makeup here and there during his career, but nothing ever included all these tubes and brushes and pencils and canisters. It was intimidating!

Sylvie clicked around on her laptop and turned the television back on. Chris’ eyes snapped to the screen, and his brain turned foggy. There was a series of makeup tutorials queued up. Sylvie began pulling items from her bag and explaining everything about them while a voice on the screen did the same thing with different items. Chris’ brain felt hot, and his glazed-over eyes shifted between the television screen and Sylvie. His heart was beating fast, and he began to sweat as his brain absorbed and replaced information simultaneously from multiple sources. For hours, Chris listened and learned everything from application techniques to maintenance, from contouring to highlighting, from mascara to powder. There was an extensive hands-on portion where Chris followed a woman on screen as she applied and removed different cosmetics. He applied and removed the same cosmetics over and over again on himself while Sylvie did it to herself. Sylvie restarted the video each repetition, which meant that not only was Chris applying the item on himself, but he was also simultaneously listening and watching two other people do it while in a hyper-focused trance. He quickly learned to shape and apply his makeup in multiple different styles to suit whatever look he needed. While he learned, the woman’s voice in the back of his head grew steadily more influential and actively encouraged him to listen and obey.

When the final video finished, Sylvie shut off the screen and closed her laptop. Chris fell back into the couch in a pile of sweat and fatigue as his thoughts came out of the fog. Darkness filled the room, and an unknown number of hours had ticked by. Chris’ mouth was impossibly dry, and the room was spinning. He groaned, feeling nauseous and...frankly horrible! Sylvie passed him his water bottle, and Chris took a desperate chug, sucking down the entire bottle and instantly feeling better.

He caught his breath and took in a heavy dose of air freshener as Sylvie asked him sweetly, “Any questions about that, Chris? I know that was a lot of information.”

Chris scratched his head and frowned. “I can’t really remember much about what you said. I must have been out of it; I’m so sorry, Sylvie. We could try again next week. I’ve just been feeling really weird lately.”

Sylvie smirked and pulled out an item from the bag. “That’s okay, Chris. I know you tried your best to listen. Do you remember what this is?”

Chris looked at the bronzer in Sylvie’s hand and rattled off, “Yeah, that’s bronzer. You’ll want to use a synthetic brush *cough* to lightly tap it on over a wide area beneath the cheekbones to give off a tanned glow.” He mimicked the application process on himself with a brush pulled from the bag.

He cleared his throat and looked down at the brush in surprise. Maybe he’d absorbed more of Sylvie’s teachings than he thought!

“And this?” Sylvie asked, holding up concealer.

The information instantly came to Chris, and he answered confidently, “Concealer. It’s used after the foundation to cover blemishes and trouble spots. *cough* It’s applied with a damp makeup sponge and evenly distributed to give a flawless finish.”

Sylvie clapped her hands excitedly and grinned from ear to ear. Her thickly coated lips praised him, “You catch on so fast, Chris; I think you might be a makeup genius!”

Chris noticed she wore several layers of makeup after having applied it to herself multiple times. He suddenly felt the same thick level of cosmetics coating his own face. He whipped out a handful of remover pads and began to wipe the layers away. Sylvie did the same, and they slowly returned to normal.

Sylvie’s makeup-free eyes met Chris’ in the relative darkness of the living room, and the moment instantly became intimate. They sat in silence. Chris noticed that without her makeup, Sylvie looked a lot different. She wasn’t ugly by any means, but her eyes were kind, and she looked more...real.

“E-excuse me.” Sylvie stated, embarrassed.

She began fishing in the bag and pulling out cosmetics, but Chris scooched next to her and placed his hands onto hers until she stopped. She didn't even know how pretty she was!

Chris whispered, “You don’t need to put your *cough* makeup back on. You’re beautiful; just *cough* like this.”

Sylvie looked down at the floor and smirked as she asked sweetly, “You really think that?”

He gently raised her gaze by lifting her chin with his painted fingers. Their eyes were locked, and Chris could feel her warm breath against his lips. He paused for a long beat before pressing towards her until their lips met. Her lips were soft, warm, and yielding. He surged forward and grabbed the back of her head, pulling her towards him and forcing his tongue into her mouth. She accepted his intrusion and lapped her own tongue back against his. They exchanged several long kisses. Chris could feel Sylvie’s arousal building as her tongue and lips became more aggressive. His own arousal was building as well, but Chris’ cock didn’t move. His heart was beating fast, his breathing was increasing, his skin was feeling hot, but his penis didn’t react.

Sylvie pushed herself to her feet and pulled off her flowery dress in one swift motion. She hadn't been wearing a bra or panties all day! She pulled the tie from her hair, and it fell down her shoulders. Chris’ ragged breath was face-to-face with Sylvie’s pierced navel.

She dropped to her knees on the floor in front of Chris and bit her lower lip while tugging at his women’s shorts. Chris wracked his mind for anything sexy! He needed to get hard—and quick! She steadily applied pressure and giggled as the shorts started sliding down his legs.

She cooed, “Hmm, no underwear! Naughty, naughty!”

Chris shut his eyes and imagined Miss Valentine spreading her muscular legs. No movement. He thought about his ex riding him reverse cowgirl. No movement. He thought of his favorite porn actress busting into the room and shaking her naked tits in his face. No movement! The shorts were almost past his thighs; his flaccid cock was about to flop out!

His mind suddenly flashed from fantasies about women to…something different. Memories of his last vacation—the pool—the pool boy—

Chris’ penis stirred and began to surge with blood. The pool boy’s hard body—his squishy ass—his piercing eyes—Chris leaned into it as his shorts went down to his knees. He pictured the young man’s virile cock springing out of his swimsuit. Another spike of arousal surged through him. Sylvie’s warm lips slid down his erection, though Chris’ mind was far away. He imagined kneeling in front of the pool boy and staring down the barrel of his shaved penis. Chris moaned into the ceiling and relaxed his hips as Sylvie started working Chris' shortened shaft. In his imagination, the young man grabbed his erection and pointed it towards a kneeling Chris. His voice ordered, “Suck.” Chris bucked his hips and groaned while his fantasy self wrapped his lips around the pool boy’s dick and proceeded to follow orders. He imagined the hard but still soft skin of the young man’s shaft sliding between his lips. Sylvie’s tongue rubbed against Chris’ diminished cockhead, and he exhaled sharply as a pathetic trickle of semen squirted into her mouth. The pool boy exploded at the same time, but his wad was heavy and impressive. In Chris’ imagination, his mouth filled with cum, and his throat was overflowing with potent seed.

Chris lay on the couch, dazed and confused, catching his breath and breathing in a cloud of vapor. Sylvie stood and dressed herself quickly. She let Chris recover for a few seconds before pulling him to his feet and sliding his shorts back up his hips. He wasn't gay! Why was his mind fantasizing about sucking dick!? There must have been a few wires crossed somewhere in his head!

“Come on, Chris, let’s get your dinner.” Sylvie said with a smile.

She led a stunned Chris to the kitchen, where he proceeded to devour his tiny dinner and swallow his pills. He was too hungry and tired to keep thinking about a random fantasy. It was a fluke, a one-time deal, and he didn't pay it any further mind. When he was finished eating, Sylvie wished him goodnight and prepared to leave.

“I’m sorry, Sylvie.” Chris shamefully stated, “That doesn’t usually *cough* doesn’t usually happen.”

Sylvie chuckled, “Don’t worry, Chris, I enjoyed making you feel good! That makeup bag is yours, by the way. Take good care of it. Also, since we were too...busy to clean any new rooms, we’ll have to clean two of them next week! Good night.”

Sylvie turned and left. Chris had forgotten they agreed to clean a new room every week. He'd also forgotten to ask Sylvie about Miss Valentine’s knowledge of the apron! It was just never on the top of his mind.

He carried his new pink makeup bag up the stairs and deposited it onto the bathroom counter with no intention to ever touch it again. Now it REALLY looked like a woman lived there. He washed his face, moisturized, and applied his weekly sleep mask. He combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and climbed into bed naked. Chris spent well over an hour playing ‘The Prince Ball.’ He had to distract himself from the fantasy that should have never happened! He WASN'T GAY!

Images of a harrier, bulkier pool boy flashed in Chris’ mind while he played, and the idea of masculine men being romantically attractive was reinforced in Chris’ brain again and again alongside the colorful, flashing images of a cartoon prince.

Chris eventually fell asleep with perfumed air in his lungs, a sleep mask on his face, cocks flashing through his brain, and sweet water filling his stomach.

10. Week 3 Part 2

LAristopa

10. Week 3 Part 2

11. Week 4 Part 1

9. Week 3 Part 1

LAristopa