Masculinity 2021: Throwback Story (Patreon)

Masculinity 2021: The Evolution of the All-American Boy

By T.G. Kadee

Butch Brinlee, former star quarterback of Penn State's football team, lifted his melon- sized breasts, shifting their soft, firm weight in the cups of his strapless demi-bra to emphasize his cleavage, which his low cut, metallic pink evening gown was designed to celebrate. Former linebacker Calvin Rutledge had just walked out on stage—they had announced him as “Callie” Rutledge. He had one hand on his round hip and glided gracefully across the stage on his stiletto heels, a bright smile on his pretty face. He turned. And turned, letting the audience have a look at his back and profile, and as the audience clapped he took his place in line next to the rest of the brightly smiling young men in their gowns. “They are all so pretty,” Butch thought, nervously fidgeting with one of his chandelier earrings. He took a deep breath and threw his shoulders back. ‘It’s your turn, honey,” he whispered to himself. “Now go out there and win that scholarship!” 

“Next, representing the Little Sisters of Delta Delta Delta, welcome the lovely Brene Brinlee,” the announcer said.

Butch let his biggest, brightest smile spread across his face as he walked onto the stage. He had one hand on a hip, just as he’d been trained to do, and he did his turns, letting the audience see how pretty he looked in his evening gown from every angle. They began to applaud, and as he walked toward the line of other boys and took his place, he glanced to the side and saw his girlfriend, Jack. She wore a dark suit and had her short hair slicked to the side, like a character out of Gatsby. She gave Butch a thumbs up, and his heart fluttered. She was so strong and tall and had been such a rock for him. As long as she believed in his, he felt like he could conquer the world. His parents were out there somewhere, too. And his younger sister, Brook, that was so important to him, but he was his girlfriend's boy now, and she meant the world to him.

Golly, Butch thought. I don’t think I’d even recognize her as the girl I feel in love with freshman year. A cheerleader and a gymnast. Jack was supposed to be his trophy wife. Now, here he stood perched on his heels, showing the world how adorable he would look on formal occasions, hoping that he could be some rich, successful woman's trophy someday, and desperately hoping the woman who claimed would be Jack. Smile and be pretty, he reminded himself. 

Smile and be pretty. It was the slogan of his former fraternity, now the “Little Sister chapter of an on-campus sorority— and of course, the "Little Sister" houses were all run by the women, men being too frail and emotional and all that nonsense. 

He sighed, his breasts rising and falling. Maybe if he’d known it was going to end like this, with all the boys competing in beauty pageants, trying to get their MR degrees and become housewives, he would have fought harder. Run. Maybe even killed himself. But it had all happened so fast, and it seemed like one day he’d been on the football field throwing touchdown passes and then all of a sudden he’d found himself on the sidelines in a pleated skirt and a sweater that hugged his huge breasts, kicking and cheering as a football team full of women ran onto the field. By the time any of them realized what was happening, they had already gotten used to it.

The last of the boys had done his walk. The evening gown portion of the competition concluded, Butch and the rest filed out and hurried back to the dressing room. The boys were all giggly and nervous now as they slipped out of their dresses and began to squeeze themselves into their bikinis. Butch felt like he might throw up. He’d dieted like a crazy boy, put in extra time at the dance studio and just worked himself until he could scream in order to look as sexy as possible in his bikini, but he still thought he looked fat. Of course, anyone looking at him would have just thought he had a perfect body, but Butch always found some part of himself that he thought could be sexier, and it drove him from fad to fad diet, and kept him working all the harder in dance and aerobic classes. He was—well endowed—as they said, with very large breasts and fleshy hips, and his body just wanted to hold onto fat. He slipped into his bikini bottoms and tied on his tiny little top. Then, draping a cloth around his shoulders, he quickly cleaned off his smokey and sultry evening makeup and did his face up in natural, sunny, day colors that lit of his pretty face in a much more natural way.  Butch had a stunningly beautiful face—large, soft, bee stung lips and big, innocent green eyes with long, curly lashes. A tiny little upturned nose dusted with freckles. He’d plucked his eyebrows into slender arches of surprise, and now as he did his make-up he emphasized not just his beauty but his boyishness. Pulling out the hairpins as quickly as he could with his long, pink fingernails, he took his long blonde hair down and brushed it, tossing his back over his slender shoulders for a breezy, summer look that screamed all-American co-ed, a look he finished with a pink and white polka dot bow he pinned into his hair which matched his polka dot bikini. He slipped into a pair of platform sandals that gave that little extra oomph to his already sexy ass, and then he went over and looked in the mirror, turning and tugging at his little bikini. He had big time grass-- a slang term of Girl Ass that had started at the college as the boy’s started to round out after the Hive came. High, round, it exactly the kind of perfect heard-shaped ass he had always loved, but now that he one of his own it was a constant source of annoyance as the girl’s on campus couldn’t seem to keep their hands off it always slapping and pinching and cupping him. He turned his back the mirror and looked back over his shoulder, looking at the gentle arch at the base of his spine, the way his behind curved back seductively. “Time for you to win me some scholarship money,” he said, giving hips a playful wiggle.

“Damn, boy,” Callie chirped in a tiny little voice that perfectly matched his button cute face. He was wearing an electric, lime green bolero bikini that glowed against his cinnamon skin. He plucked at the metal rings on his soft hips. “Is my shame showing at all?”

“No, oh, you look gorgeous” Butch said in his own breathy, blonde voice. “You look so … sexy.” He glanced down at his own crotch to make sure his protection was in place and saw that it did, indeed, look like he had a vagina, his shame tucked safely away. Any sign of a boy’s shame had become taboo since The Hive had come, and they all referred to their male parts as their shame and in the name of Total Equality kept them hidden unto shunts that made it look like they had vaginas, especially important when wearing a bikini. Even without The Hive’s rules, Butch would have been inclined to hide his shame—it was so small now he didn’t even want his girlfriend to see it and was always begging her to have sex in the dark. 

Butch and Callie exchanged a quick hug and air kisses. “Have fun!” They chimed together, hurrying off as the Stage Manager called, “Places, boys! Places! The giggling excited boys hurried to get to their places, breasts jiggling as they clicked and clumped along—some in pumps and others, like Butch, having opted for high-heeled sandals of some sort—all of them had looked for shoes that would make their legs look longer, their asses hotter.

They strutted in their bikinis. The crowd cheered. Their cheeks hurt from smiling. Butch hurried off, and immediately stripped off his bikini and stepped into the dress he’d picked out for the talent portion of the competition: a short blue skirt with an anchor on it and a sailor girl blouse, plus a little sailor hat pinned sideways on his blonde hair which he quickly gathered up into a top bun. Saddle shoes with taps on the bottom finished the look and as he looked in the mirror he felt he’d nailed the wholesome, All-American boy look he was going for his blonde hair and bombshell figure. He puckered his lips and blew himself a kiss, gasping—“My gloves!”

He ran to the wings, pulling on his gloves, and got there just as the announcer called out “And now Brene Brinlee, the All-American Boy!” Butch saw the women who would be part of his routine off on the wings on the other side of the stage and smiled, waving his little hands excitedly. One of them gave him a cool thumbs up and Butch felt better having such strong, confident women to help him.

The music for The Motown Hit “Dancing In the Streets” stared playing and Butch danced out onto the stage, smiling and signing in his soprano voice:

Calling Out Around The World
 Are You Ready for a brand new beat?
 Summer’s here and the time is right
 for dancing in the streets

They’re dancing in Chicago

And a tall girl dressed in a slick old time mobster suit strutted onto stage and started circling Butch like a hungry shark.

And down in New Orleans

And a woman dressed in an all-white, old time southern suit came out and started circling him as well, and now Butch made his eyes wide and let his mouth form a little O shape.

In New York City

And a woman decked out in hip-hop styles came out and circled as well.

And now Butch danced free of the women who now trailed behind him, shaking his butt as the women playfully pushed and shoved at each other, vying for the pretty boy’s attention.

All we need is music, sweet music

They’ll be swinging swaying and records playing

Dancing in the streets

Now Butch ran forward and one of the girls grabbed him around his tiny waist and lifted him in the air. Butch made a cute little squeaking noise, and then the women passed him around as he sang the second verse all the while mugging prettily to the audience:

So come on every lady grab and boy
 The whole world will be full of joy! 

The music started to transition, changing key and tempo, shifting into a more modern, electronic sound, and Butch popped open a cute little red, white and blue parasol and started dancing playfully while the women took turns turning him, spinning him, dipping him as if he were a helpless little thing caught in a rainstorm:

It's raining women

Butch sang out joyfully

Hallejulah
 It's raining women
 Amen

I'm gonna go out
 I'm gonna let myself get
 Absolutely soaking wet  

And here he playfully bent over and stuck out his butt, leaning on the parasol while all the girls pumped their fists and nodded, and then Butch danced forward to the edge of the stage and as he finished the song two of the women took hold of his legs and as he did a split they lifted him in the air:

It's raining women

Hallejulah
 It's raining women
 Amen

Just as the music finished Butch punched his little fists in the air three times and shouted, "Go Lions!"

The lights went out. The crowd roared, and when the lights came back on they got a glimpse of Butch prancing off stage, his little skirt flipping up and giving them all a view of his star spangled panties.

As soon as Butch ran off the stage, sweating and panting, Mrs. Rozier, the pageant organized gave him a big hug and said, "Brene! That was amazing!"

"Really?" Butch said, looking down modestly. "I tried my hardest."

"It was fun and flirty and sexy but not slutty-- you were everything a boy should be!"

"Golly, thanks!" Butch chirped, and now he threw his arms around Mrs. Rozier in gratitude.

Butch's three dancers were waiting next, and they slapped him on the ass and gave him hugs. "You're a great little dancer," Gene said, giving Butch a playful chuck on the chin.

"Gee, thanks!" Butch said. "I couldn't have done it without you!"

Back in the dressing room, most of the boys were friendly, but cold. That told Butch his routine had been killer. Pretty boys were jealous boys, and they were all competing to win the competition here and out in the world, and Butch knew they all felt threatened by him. All but Callie, who gave him a hug and said, "You're gonna win this thing, honey buns."

"Oh, gosh, I don't know,” Butch said. "If I don't get it, I hope you do."

"Tri-Delt little sisters forever," Callie said, and they pinkie shook.

"Tri-Delt little sisters forever.... gag me,” Erin Murphy, formerly a pitcher on the baseball team said, brushing his cheeks with blush and glaring at them in the mirror. His curly red hair was down over his white shoulders, and he had big green eyes and full, firm breasts, pushed together in a low cut emerald green dress. He was also a little sister with the Kappa Delts, arch-enemies of the Tri-Delts.

"Have fun out there,” Butch said, smiling prettily, choosing to rise above the other boy's pettiness.

"I never thought I'd see the captain of the football team all-- oh, look at me, I'm so pretty and helpless I need big strong women to take care of me!"

"Said Erin as he did his make-up,” Butch answered.

"Bitch,” Erin said.

"Slut," Butch answered, and then Callie took him by the hand and led him away before things got ugly.

"How can a guy sit there putting on blush and accuse me of being too girly?"

"I know. And with his breasts taped together for extra cleavage."

"Forget that slut,” Butch said, but when it came time for Erin's performance they both snuck to the wings and watched as Erin sang "Defying Gravity”:

Something has changed within me
 Something is not the same

"His voice is so pretty,” Butch said.

"The boy can sing,” Callie admitted.

  I'm through with trying
 to make the rules of my own game
 I don't need to stress about it
 I've been told what to think
 so the time has come to surrender
 to learn to be sweet and meek 

Butch glanced at Callie and mouthed, "Hypocrite."

I think I'll try embracing
  femininity
 I know I'll thrive embracing
 femininity
 And they'll never see me frown 

Butch and Callie walked away. "He may be a total hypocrite, but he's good."

"Yeah. The women were eating that shit up."

"I am going to freak if we lose to that ginger slut,” Butch said.

"Well, whatever happens, Smile and Be Pretty."

"Smile and Be Pretty,” Butch responded, and they went off to put on their gowns for the awards announcements.

The finalists stood on stage, their cheeks aching as they kept their smiles plastered on their faces. They'd already named Callie as third runner-up, given him his sash and an armful of flowers. Butch and Erin stood next to each other now, trembling, and Erin surprised Butch by reaching out a small, soft hand and taking Butch's. The two boys glanced at each other and nodded.

"And the second runner up in the first annual Beautiful Boys Pageant is...." drumroll.... "Erin Murphy!"

Tears sprung to Butch's eyes and he put his hands to his cheeks, Cameras were flashing, the audience cheering and clapping. Someone took his arm and led him down stage, and Butch sobbed as they placed the glittering tiara on his head, and placed a pink sash over his shoulder that read, "Beautiful." He was the prettiest boy on campus, and it was the greatest moment of his life. "Thank you," he said through the tears in his soft, breathy voice, blowing kisses to the audience. "Thank you!" He looked around desperately to find Jack's face. He wanted to share the moment with the girl he loved, who'd supported him through it all. Jack smiled and nodded. Pumped a fist and mouthed, "I love you." Butch's parents and sister ran to the foot of the stage, cheering him on.

This is it, Butch thought. My most perfect moment. He'd never felt so pretty and so loved. I am, he decided, the luckiest boy in the whole world! He stood on stage, basking in the adoration of the crowd.

2019. Just Before the Coming of The Hive

A Saturday in the fall. Crip cool air. Cloudy and cool. The smell of barbecue, and the sound of the marching band, drums and horns blasting out the school fight song. Outside a large trailer reading ESPN on the side squatted next to the stadium, while inside their cameras and crew brought the game to a national audience of millions. Penn State versus Rutgers. One of the oldest rivalries in the history of college football, and the whole nation had tuned in to watch Penn State's superstar freshman quarterback, Butch Brinlee lead his team against the 11th ranked Rutgers Scarlet Knights.

Butch had his eyes downfield, progressing through his reads, looking for an open receiver. He could sense the pocket collapsing around him. All the best quarterbacks had it-- a kind of sixth sense that allowed them to sense when a defensive lineman was about to break free and sack him. Butch took a couple steps forward and a defensive lineman crashed onto the spot where he'd just been, and then a gap opened in the line in front of him and Butch saw glory-- an open expanse of green and then the white chalk line representing the end zone.

He tucked the ball and sprinted toward the goal line, just escaping the outstretched hand of an opposing player. Downfield, Michigan State's star middle linebacker Leif Jorgenson saw the quarterback take off, cut back and charged toward him as fast as he could. The announcer shouted out the action:

Brinlee takes off... he's at the 25.... the 20.... the 15... the 10....

Jorgenson closed in, lowered his shoulder ready to deliver a crushing tackle he expected would knock Butch right off his feet. But Butch was no ordinary quarterback-- 6' 4" and 245 pounds of rock solid muscle, he didn't slide or attempt the dodge the tackle as most quarterbacks would have done. Instead, he lowered his shoulder and the two men collided with a POP as their shoulder pads smashed together that could be heard all the way to the top row of the stadium. Jorgenson was thrown backwards by the impact of the collision, and Butch motored into the end zone, spiked the football and did his unique triple fist pump as the crowd roared and his team mates ran over and smothered him with high fives. The game was over, and thanks for Butch's heroics, Penn State had won the game 30-28.

Butch stood on the field sweaty, dirty, and he raised his arms as the crowd roared. After, Jackie had come scampering up in his little blue and white cheerleader outfit, and he'd lifted her off her feet and hugged her to him as hard as he could. "You did it!" Jackie said.

"Yeah, babe. I did," he answered, setting her down and giving her a kiss. She was a sweet, pretty girl, an A-list girlfriend who would probably even make a decent little wife. But Butch didn't think he'd keep her. He figured he'd be able to bag a supermodel once he started his NFL career. Why settle for a girl who was cute when he could have a premium brand piece of ass?

Still, he put his arm around her waist, and they walked off the field together. It was a great photo-op, and Butch figured more than a view news services would run that pick, which would just make him all the more popular. You wanna know what's happening? Butch thought. I'm what's happening.

And then he wasn't. Suddenly, there were a series of loud exploding sounds that shook the ground of the stadium like the footsteps of a giant. The stadium suddenly started to buzz with anxiety as people looked around, and then arms started pointing at the sky.

"What is it?" Jackie said, pulling herself to Butch's side.

"I don't know,” Butch said calmly.

There was a bright, deep blue light now that seemed to be coming from above the clouds, which had begun to swirl almost like they were forming a funnel cloud. Some people stood frozen, while others started to panic. The stadium sound system started to buzz and crackle, and a honking alarm began to sound even while every phone also started to admit the same emergency alert.

"It's a tornado!" Jackie gasped. "Omigod."

Butch kept her close, and they started hurrying toward shelter, but then then a large, black objects descended through the swirling clouds, lightning flashing from and more explosions as it descended. "No way,” Butch said, as he and just about everyone else froze, looking at the giant thing that seemed to be descending from outer space.

 The stadium alarms stopped sounding. It was deathly quiet. A calm detached woman's voice came over the sound system and said: The Hive is here. Return to Your Homes, and Await Further Instructions. The Hive is here. Return to your Homes, and Await Further Instructions. All over the stadium, people looked into their phones and saw the same message: The Hive is here. Return to Your Homes. Await Further Instructions.

"What the hell should we do?" One man, his face painted blue and white.

"Return home and await instructions,” another answered in a dream-like trance. 

"I think The Hive is here to help us,” a woman said.

"The Hive is here to help us," several people repeated, while a few looked on in confusion and shook their heads.

"I'm afraid," Jackie said. "What should we do?"  

"I have to get to the locker room for a quick team meeting,” Butch said. "Figure it out from there."

"I don't want to be alone right now,” Jackie said. 

"Come with. You can wait outside the locker room door. Sound good?"

"Yes,” Jackie said, nodding. "Okay."

She was clearly terrified, and Butch couldn't blame her. He felt pretty freaked out himself because it seemed like the earth was being invaded by aliens, and that was not cool, but he was the man and he needed to be strong for her, so he put on his best 'everything is fine' mask and took her by the hand.

When he got to the locker room, things were already weird. The players were at their lockers, but when the usually passionate and intense Coach Pollock walked in, he had a glassy-eyed, distant look, and his mouth was hanging open. He clutched his cell phone in his palm, the screen blinking. "No team meeting today, boys," he said vacantly. "Return to your homes and await further instructions."

"Coach?" Butch said. "Everything okay?"

"Return to your homes and await further instructions,” Coach Pollock repeated. "The Hive has arrived."

The meeting started to break up, but then Coach Pollock suddenly called out, "One more thing!"

They all turned and looked at him expecting some kind of congrats on a big win, but instead he said, "Remember to moisturize. Our skin looked terrible out there today." And with that he turned and walked out of the room.

"What the fuck?" Calvin Rutledge said.

"Hell if I know,” Butch said, but then he looked down at his hands and thought-- Coach is right. My skin does look terrible. He walked out of the locker room, feeling his cheeks with his palms, and as soon as he saw Jackie he said, "Do you think I should moisturize more? Coach said my skin looks terrible."

Jackie shrugged. "Um, I guess?"

Butch shook his head. Weird. "Let's go hang out at my room and check the news,” Butch said. "I don't feel like partying tonight."

"Okay," Jackie said. "I need to stop by the cheerleader's lockers and get my shit."

They got Jackie's stuff and then climbed into Butch's black Range Rover, driving back to the Delta Tau Delta fraternity. The house was subdued. Some of the guys were smoking weed and drinking beers on the couch, but they were glued to the television, watching the news. Even the brothers of DTD wouldn't party through an alien invasion. Jerry, the house keg master, said, "Can you believe this shit?"

"Not really,” Butch said.

"I'm going to enlist," Jerry said. "Sign up the Marines. We can't let this happen."

"But maybe they really are here to help us?" Peter said.

"I'll be upstairs,” Butch said. "Take it easy guys. And no enlisting until we know more."

Jackie curled up on Butch's lap and nuzzled against his chest. They flipped on the news. Bill O-Reilly was smiling brightly into the camera, behind him, floating above New York City, was what looked like a black ship identical to the one they had seen enter the atmosphere earlier. Under O'Reilly the Fox news crawl read, "The Hive has come to Help Us. They WILL make America great again."

O'Reilly was mouthing a variation on the same idea in the 'talking down to children" style he was famous for. "If they meant harm, they would have attacked. They didn't attack. That proves The Hive is a friend. That proves we should welcome The Hive! Liberals will claim alien invasions are BAD. Liberals hate America. They don't want to see America GREAT AGAIN. That proves THE HIVE is GOOD. LIBERALS who are anti-America are BAD!" 

"This is bullshit,” Butch said.

"I've been telling you that for years,” Jackie said, smiling.

Butch was about to change the channel, but the show cut to commercial. Cover Girl mascara. Butch felt his heat flutter with excitement and froze, watching intently. Katy Perry in a pink dress carrying a giant flower. How do your lashes grow? A voice asked. Soft and full like a flower, Katy answered, and Butch realized he wanted lashes like that. He needed them. That's the power of Cover Girl's full lash bloom mascara. Katy said, batting her lashes. And Butch thought-- yes, Katy.  Yes. I need that power!

And then the commercial showed a hot pink tube of mascara and a pink mascara brush and Butch felt something in the pit of his stomach as his cheeks flushed and he was in love with that mascara and he needed it more than anything and he whispered, "wow" in a low, hoarse voice.

"Everything okay?" Jackie said.

The trance broke and Butch shook his head. "What? Yeah. I mean, what do you mean? Ha-ha." Butch's throat had gone dry. He chugged the beer. He wanted very badly to have that mascara. To have eyelashes soft and full like a flower. But he couldn't let Jackie know that. He couldn't let anyone know that. Katy was doing her mascara now, all girly and fun, and Butch found himself watching her intently, and then summoning all his will he flipped channels, and went right to the image of a wet pink mouth and again Butch felt a rush of desire, but not for the woman's lips or her pink tongue, but for that creamy, wet pink color.

"Color Riche," a woman whispered. "So rich. So glamorous. This isn't lipstick," she said. "It's No. 1 Color Riche by L'Oreal." Butch felt feverish and started to tremble. He needed it. He had to have it. He had to, "Enough of this," he said. "Let's do something else." And he started to turn off the television, but a commercial for Maybelline Fit Me had come on and a girl with radiant skin was promoting some kind of cream that would blend his pores and give him great skin, and finally he said, "Something is happening to me."

"What?" Jackie said, hearing a slight tone of panic in her boyfriend's voice. She'd never heard that from him, and it shocked her.

Butch shook his head and looked away. "I can't. No."

"What?"

"It's too weird."

Jackie shook her head. "I love you," she said. "You know that. What's going on? We'll talk about it."

"I don't know why, and I can't explain what's happening, but I feel like I am having a panic attack, and I may just leap out that window to my death unless..."

"Oh my God! What?"

"Unless..."

"Tell me!"

Butch swallowed. He looked down, ashamed. "Unless you help me do my face," he whispered.

"Do your face?"

"Makeup," Butch gasped, the damn breaking. "I need to put on makeup." Now Beyoncé was on television, puckering her lips and he pointed to the screen and said, "I want infallible lips and lashes like flowers and pore less skin Let me see your purse! What do you have with you?"

"Its okay,” Jackie said, surprised and confused and amused. "Just sit down and take a breath. I'll get my make-up and we'll do your face."

Butch sat down as he'd been told, fidgeting nervously. "You can't tell anyone,” Butch said, his breath calming. "This has to be secret."

"Just relax,” Jackie said. "Take it easy." She got her make-up kit from her cheerleading bag, and went over and sat down next to Butch. She smiled and said, "Guess what I have" and pulled out a tube of Maybelline Fit Me.

Butch sighed and smiled. "Oh my god I love you so much," he said to Jackie. "You're a life saver."

"Everything is going to be okay," she said as she started to put base on her boyfriend's face. Funny. As she'd been sitting there watching the commercials, she'd been getting the urge to do Butch's make-up, thinking it would be fun. But she never thought he would go for it being the macho stud type and all. What a coincidence he would come out of the Maybelline closet just then. Or maybe we're getting so close we're starting to think alike?" Jackie thought as she started to do her boyfriend's eye shadow. She liked the idea they had a psychic connection, and another discovery-- she loved doing her boyfriend's make-up.

Finally, Butch sat nervously holding his lips in a pucker as Katie put on his lipstick. She didn't have L' Oreal, but she did have Revlon Super Lustrous in a color called Ipenema Beach which he LOVED, and when she finally pulled away and had him dab his lips on a tissue, she nodded and said, "I'm impressed."

Butch bounded over to the mirror, and then froze as he looked at himself. Then, smiled. "Oh my God," he said, glancing back at Katie. He actually looked kind of cute. Still only 18-- he wouldn't turn 19 until November-- Butch had boyish, pretty boy looks, and those pretty boy looks, with the expert application of make-up, now had taken on a definite girlish look. "Look at my eyes!"

Katie gave Butch a pat on the back and stood next to him, her face appearing in the mirror next to his. "You do look quite cute." Neither said it out loud, but they could both feel something changing in their relationship. Shifting. But neither cared because they soon found each other's lips and kissed, and then Katie pushed Butch back and they tumbled onto the bed together. Butch got Katie's top open, and she pulled his shirt off, and then they rolled and kissed and kissed some more until finally Katie found herself on her back, grabbing the sides of the bed as Butch thrust rhythmically into her. She was looking at his face-- of course his make-up had gotten smudged and smirched during their love making, and now he looked like a slutty coed with his butterfly eyelashes and soft pink eye shadow, his pink lips and blushing cheeks, and she had never been more turned on than she was then with her slutty chick boyfriend doing the nasty.

When they got done, Butch collapsed, and lay next to her breathing hard. "Let's get some pizza," he said, idly rubbing Katie's tummy.

"Okay," she said. She got up and ordered the pizza, and when she turned around Butch had dozed off, as usual. She couldn't resist the urge to snap a few pictures of his pretty face with her cell phone. She wouldn't show anyone. They were just for her. 

When she started climbing down the stairs to get the pizza, she heard laughing and giggling and thought, I guess even an alien invasion won't stop these guys from partying, but as she descended and peeked through the stair rails she stopped dead. The guys were all sitting still while some girls from around campus did their make-up. The girls were giggling and chatting, and the guys excitedly joining in when they could move their mouths. Holly, who Katie knew from cheerleading, saw her and waved. "We're having a make-over party!" She said. "They boys all want to get pretty."

"I don't want to get pretty," Jerry said. "I need to get pretty!"

Katie felt the same thrill of excitement she'd felt upstairs and walked down, checking out the guy's faces in amazement. Some of them looked cute, and some just unfortunate, but none was as pretty as her boyfriend. Still, it was like some strange virus had taken over, and as much as she loved seeing all these guys getting goo-goo over glossy lipstick, it also didn't seem right. The doorbell rang, and she opened the door to see the pizza delivery guy was wearing mascara, lipstick, eyeliner. She paid the bill as a concern began to grow in her mind. 

Upstairs, Butch woke at the first smell of pizza. He sat up and immediately checked his face in the mirror. "Ugh," he said.

"Butch,” Katie said. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah,” Butch said, pulling himself away from the mirror. "My face is such a mess."

"Crazy sex will do that,” Katie said.

Butch grabbed a slice of pizza. "Would you be surprised to know a bunch of your fraternity brothers are downstairs getting their make-up done right now?"

 "What?" Butch said, trying to eat the pizza without getting his lipstick on it.

"Yeah. Did you ever have any desire at all to play with makeup before tonight?"

"No,” Butch said, nodding. "The Hive."

"Yeah."

The talked about it, and decided it had to be these strange aliens. All of a sudden a bunch of dudes want to put on lipstick? "But why?" Butch said. "What could be the ultimate goal of it?"

Jackie, looking at her boyfriend there in his make-up, thought she might know. She thought of Jerry, who'd been angry and threatening to join the army a few hours ago now sitting primly with his knees together while blush was put on his cheeks and saying, "I need to be pretty" and she knew-- she knew it was to make it so they couldn't fight. To make all the guys girly girls, but she didn't say it. She just felt that Butch would probably freak out, and anyway, she kind of thought maybe it would be good for world peace of something. She shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "What do you think?"

Butch had gotten up and was fixing his lipstick. "Maybe these aliens are idiots?" He said. "Because all they managed to do so far is make me happy."

Modern Day 2021

Butch pulled a tube of frosty pink lipstick from his sparkly silver River Island Clutch Purse, and then used the vanity mirror on the sunscreen in Jack's Escalade to fix his makeup. He had to look perfect for the Estee Lauder Beautiful Boy After Party at Quantum. Social media was so important for him as he pursued a career in modeling. He couldn't afford for even a single image of him being less than super pretty to get onto Instagram. He wore a strapless silver metallic Hailey Logan dress with a short skirt and a pair of silver SJP "Carrie" Strap Pumps all of which combined to show off his soft, curvaceous body to perfection in a still youthful and kind of innocent-sexy way.

"You look hot as hell, Brene," Jack said for the 12th time since he'd picked Butch up at the Little Sister House.

"You're sweet," Butch answered, dabbing his plush lips.

Jack parked her Escalade and then reached over and squeezed Butch's knee, leaning in to give him a non-make-up smudging kiss on the neck. "I'm so fucking proud to have you as my boyfriend," Jack said. "Seeing you up on stage today, you were-- like-- a-- fucking goddess."

"Thanks," Butch said, wishing that his girlfriend could find more articulate ways to tell him how good he looked, but he knew she was trying her best.

"Let me show you off to all these poor fuckers who have to date guys who are NOT the most beautiful boy in the world,"  Jack said, getting out of the car, then coming around and helping Butch get down-- in his tight little dress it was impossible for him to get in and out of her big, tall SUV without help-- and least not while still looking appropriately boyish and modest- and so he let Jack put her arm around his waist and lift him to the ground, getting a little thrill as he always did when she picked him up.

Butch tugged at the hem of his skirt, wiggling his whole body, and adjusted his purse strap on his shoulder.

"You ready to meet your public, little Beauty Boy, 2021?"

"Yes," Butch said, smiling prettily up at his girlfriend. "Let's do this!"

Jack put her hand on the small of Butch's back, and they walked up together. As they walked along the line, Jack had a big, cocky smirk on her face, while Butch waved and said hi and friends and people in line calling out congratulations.

"Can I get a picture?" A big, 'roided out woman in a tank top with huge arms and a barrel chest said.

Butch smiled and put a hand on his hip, cell phones flashing.

"We'll do more pictures inside," Jack announced loudly. "Brene would love to take selfies with all of you, but we are running late."

"Thanks, everyone!" Butch gushed, blowing kisses as Jack put a hand on his hip and steered him past the line and into the club.

"Golly," Butch said quietly to Jack as they slipped into the dark club the thumping of the music shaking the walls, the air thick with cologne, perfume and swimming with the pheromones of a few hundred sex-crazy college kids.

The club was packed, but Butch's party had a private table along the balcony, and as he and Jack approached their friends started whooping and hollering, "Yeah! There he is! There were hugs and pats on the ass from the boys and the women. 

"Tri-Delt little sisters forever, bitches!" Jaycee, formerly the keg master Jerome, squealed high-fiving Butch. He had blossomed into an extremely busty little hottie, and after much pressuring from his now ex-girlfriend had died his hair blonde. 

"Omigod," Butch said, plucking at the lacy material of Jaycee's fiery red dress. "I love your dress? Is that Bodycon?" Jaycee wore a sweetheart style mini-dress,  and Butch could see Jaycee's black bra and panties right through the material.

Jaycee giggled and said, "Yeah." The he bent over, shook his ass and said, "I need to get fucked so bad!"

"Let me help you with that," Hal, the former cheerleader who had been the first to help Jaycee with his makeup all those years ago, got up and started grinding against Jaycee's ass. Jaycee started twerking. Everyone laughed, Jaycee looking back over his smooth, tan shoulder and licked his lips, his eyes wet with desire. 

Then, suddenly, the deep triple beat thumping of Taylor Swift's "Slutty Boys" came on and all the boys squealed and rushed to the dance floor, their girlfriends in tow. "You're going to have to dance with me, sailor!" Jaycee said, grabbing Hal's hand and dragging her out onto the floor.

You look so pretty so sweet so nice
 everything about you is sugar and spice
 But beneath the  pink, the ribbons, the bows
 Boys are really just slutty hos
 

Make some noise you slutty boys
 

And all the boys squealed and threw their slender arms in the air, shaking their breasts and hips.

Make some noise you slutty boys

And they all squealed again.

Make some noise you slutty boys
 Slutty boy, you're my bundle of joy 

Butch sat down, knees together, hands in his lap, shoulders back, and watched the people dancing with just a little envy. He loved that song so much, and he loved to dance! Jack was standing, talking to some women, and Butch hated to interrupt, but he just couldn't resist, so he tugged on Jack's sleeve. 

"Yeah, babe?" Jack said.

"Can't we just do one quick dance?"

"We talked about this," Jack said. "You know we can't have pictures of you bumping and grinding out on the floor. That's not your brand, babe."

"I know," Butch said. "I just really like dancing."

"It'll all be worth it, Brene. Trust me. Okay?"

"Yes, dear," Butch said.

"Listen, go out and mingle. Take pictures with everyone. Tasteful pictures. I want you exploding on social media tonight. Exploding. But no dancing. None. You understand?" 

"Yeah," Butch said looking down sadly. "I know."

"Hey, Brene" Jack said, cupping Butch's chin and lifting his pretty face. "I love you."

Butch smiled brightly, his eyes sparkling. His heart still fluttered every time he heard Jack say those words, and he said, "I love you, too."

"Now get out there, smile and be pretty," Jack said, taking Butch's hand and helping him to his feet. As Butch slung his purse over his shoulder and headed out into the club, Jack gave him a slap on the ass, and Jack smiled back over his shoulder with a boyish giggle.

"Boys?" Jack said when she turned back to the women. "Am I right?"

The woman and chuckled and nodded.

"Let's get some cigars," Jack said, suddenly. "How's that sound?"

"Like a plan," Steve, who'd been a gymnast along with Jack back in the day said and was sneaking a look at Butch's sweet, plump ass as the sexy little man wiggled his way among the crowd. "And a very good one." 

Once Butch got busy working the room, his mood brightened and he was back to being his usually sweet, happy self. People were so excited to see him, and everyone wanted selfies with him. He chatted and giggled and smiled, his cheeks still aching from the pageant, and soon lost himself in a bubbly pink haze of pretty social boyhood. He slipped into the bathroom periodically to check his makeup, his hair, and of course chatted with the other boys as they primped and fussed. Butch had never felt this happy since the changes had started, and now looking in the mirror at his flawless skin, his big, bright eyes and plush lips, and especially his figure with his firm breasts pushing his dress out impressively, his tiny little waist and wide, round hips, he felt really and truly lucky to be such a pretty boy. When the changes had first begun, when he'd lost his identity as an athlete and a football star, being small and pretty had seemed like the worst thing that could have ever happened to him. He'd felt like his life was over, and it had only gotten worse when he'd developed a plump, girl's ass and then started to pop out his own breasts.

But now? Now he was pretty, super pretty, the prettiest boy, and he liked it.

Butch went back out into the throbbing cavern of the dance hall. The club was even more packed now, and it was impossible to move without bodies brushing together. “‘scuse me!” Butch said prettily. “Pardon me!” And as he moved along, he felt a hand grab his ass and squeeze while another slipped around his waist, resting uncomfortably low on his pelvis.

“Oh!” Butch said, trying to push the hand away, but the woman behind held tight, the hand on Butch’s ass squeezing so hard he let out a tiny scream. “Let go!”

“Just sayin’ hi,” Steve said, voice slurred as Butch finally squirmed free of her grasp. Steve stumbled after Butch, clearly wasted. “How’s about a little kiss honey buns?” Steve said, backing Butch right against a wall and putting an arm on either side of Butch’s shoulders.

Butch’s heart started to race. Steve leaned in and let her chest press against Butch’s soft breasts. Her breath stank of whiskey and cigars. “Just a little kiss, baby boy. A friendship kiss, ya know? Godamn, you are so fucking hot.” 

“Don’t,” Butch said, looking around desperately for his girlfriend. “Jack would be, like, so pissed if he saw this,” Butch said.

“Come on, baby boy,” Steve said, taking Butch by the jaw and tilting his head back. “I just wanna a kiss from the most Beautiful Boy. Just one kiss.”

Butch had to fight against all of his conditioning, from years now of being trained never to refuse a woman or do anything that might seem rude or bossy, but he was scared and Steve was letting her hand slide up his side toward his breasts so he finally said, “No!” And then he slapped Steve on the face.

Steve just laughed. “You’re feisty,” Steve said. “I like feisty boys.”

Butch tried to slap him again, but this time Steve caught his wrist and effortlessly forced his tiny arm down. She was so strong, much stronger than Butch, and now she grabbed him around his tiny waist again and said, ‘Let’s go somewhere private.”

‘Let me go,” Butch squealed, but Steve picked him up off his feet, laughing. One of Butch’s pumps slip off his foot, and he looked around desperately. “Jack!  Jack!” He screamed.

Steve covered Butch’s mouth, turned and…. Stopped dead in her tracks. 

“He said no,” Jaycee said, standing there with on hand on a hip and a can of mace in the other. “Let him go or I will Mace your ass.” 

Steve started to say something, saw the gleeful look in Jaycee’s eyes and raised her hands. “You bitches take shit way to seriously,” she said, walking away. “Whatever.”

“You okay?” Jaycee said, running up to Butch.

“Omigod, thanks,” Butch said, finding his lost heel. He shook his head. “Women,” he said, disgustedly.

“I’ve never seen Steve like that before,” Jaycee said. “She was like….” And then he whispered, “…an animal. Are you gonna tell Jack?”

“Ah, that would be a big no,” Butch said. “She was just wasted.” Butch put one hand on Jaycee’s shoulder while he bent down, lifted his leg as much as he could in his tight little dress, and slipped his pretty high heeled shoe back on. Every woman in 20 feet stopped to watch. There was something so sexy about a hot guy in a little dress putting on his heels. “Women will be women,” Butch said. “No point getting upset about it!” He straightened his dress and tossed his hair. “I need to freshen up. You coming?”

“Sure,” Jaycee said. He knew everything that Butch said was true. Women were aggressive. They couldn’t help themselves. It didn’t see fair, but who ever said life was fair. 

“Thanks for having my back,” Butch said, sighing, his heart calming down.

“Little sisters forever,” Jaycee said.

After, he went and found Jack, who was hanging out at their table with some people from around campus. “There’s my little boy,” Jack said as Butch came walking up. “You are exploding on social media, honey buns!” 

“Really?” Butch said.

“Check it out! Over 275 pictures you are tagged in on Instagram, you picked up 312 new followers on Twittter, and your youtube channel got 127 new subscribers!”

Butch flushed with pride, but when he opened his mouth he said, “You’re a marketing genius, Jack!”

‘Yeah, I am,” Jack said. “Hell, I’m gonna make you bigger than Kate Upton ever was, babe! Now, let’s get out of here. The crowd is getting drunk and tacky. I don’t like it for you here late night, and besides you need to look pretty for brunch tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Butch said. “Whatever you say, dear.”

Jack put her arm around Butch and guided her sexy little boyfriend out of the club. She loved having such a hot little piece of ass for a boyfriend, and it was a major turn on for her to parade Butch around and show him off like a prize pony. Butch basked in all the attention he was getting, loving that everyone was looking at him, calling out to him and, of course, seeing him in the arms of such a badass stud of a girlfriend. When they got back to the Escalade, Jack walked Butch around to the passenger side, but when Butch walked up to the side passenger door, Jack said, “no.” In a husky voice. “Get in the back.”

Butch gasped, his nipples getting hard at even the suggestion. “People might see!” He whispered.

Jack slid the side door open. “Get in,” she said. “Now. I need your body.”

Butch obeyed stepped to the side door, where Jack picked him up and almost tossed him on the big, cushioned leather bench. Then Jack climbed in and slammed the door shut. Her eyes were glassy and hard, like a bull, and Butch’s heart fluttered as Jack climbed on top of him, grabbed a wrist and then kissed him until he saw stars. Butch ran a hand through Jack’s short hair, then felt her strong, muscular shoulder, and then Jack pushed down the top of his dress until Butch’s breasts sprung free, and then she grabbed one and squeezd while sucking on of his hard little pink nipples.

Butch moaned, hiking up his skirt so he could wrap his thighs around Jack’s ribs. It drove him crazy when Jack played with his breasts, and he kissed Jack on the neck and cheek, drinking in the masculine musk of her cologne while she kept sucking on his nipple. Then, Jack turned him over and Butch got down on his elbows sticking his but in the air and arching his back to raise it higher. Jack grabbed the hem of Butch’s dress and pushed it up over his hips, then grabbed his panties and yanked them down his thighs to his knees. Butch wiggled and moaned with excitement, and then Jack her her rough hands on Butch’s soft, round cheeks and squeezed. “Hurry,” Butch begged. “God I am so horny.”

Jack reached down to the floor and found her strap on, rubbing the length of it along the inside of Jack’s soft thigh and drawing a desperate gasp from her pretty little boy. Then, she strapped it on, one hand on the small of jack’s back, before she slammed into him. Tears came to Butch’s eyes as his girlfriend entered him and he screamed in pleasure. Jack lost all control and started pounding and pounding, her strong hands on Butch’s hips. “Harder!” Butch squealed. “Harder!” And Jack responded, slamming into his and then they both screamed as they orgasmed together, Jack slapping Butch on the ass and the falling on top of him. Jack let his butt drop, and lay there panting as Jack lay on top of him, gently running her fingers over his smooth back.

“I love you so much,” Butch said in a pink haze of post-coital bliss.

“I fucking love you, too,” Jack said. “So fucking much.” And then she pinched her boy friend on his plump, round ass and said, “Jesus.”

2019

Butch woke up Sunday morning, showered and then immediately started putting on his lipstick. "Gotta look pretty for my girl," he said. Jackie let it slide. It seemed so real and wrong, but yet she liked that he cared and wanted to look good for her.

"What do you want to do today?" Jackie asked, as Butch happily but inexpertly worked on his face. 

"You," Butch said.

"I was thinking brunch, but I like your idea better."

"Just let me get done here," Butch said.

'Let me," Jackie said, getting turned on by the idea again, just like the night before. "I love making you pretty."

Butch smiled, and once Jackie finished, they made love again-- crazy, wild love, and then ate some pizza and made love some more. Exhausted, they slept and then Butch flipped on the television. Bill O'Reilly's angry face appeared, but now painted in soft pastel pinks and light purples.

"Is he wearing eyelash extensions?" Katie said, snuggling up to Butch.

It looks that way?"  Butch answered. O' Reilly had long, curly, fluttering eyelashes like a 1920s movie star.

"When we feel PRETTY, we feel confident. When we feel CONFIDENT, we are more successful. Being pretty makes America strong. America MUST be the PRETTIEST nation on the planet. LIBERALS hate PRETTY; therefore, LIBERALS HATE AMERICA."

Underneath O'Reilly, the news crawl now read, "Bill O'Reilly is wearing Infallible Prolast Lipcolor by L'Oreal, the official make-up of Fox News. The Hive is here to help us. ISIS executes men for being too pretty. Bill O'Reilly is wearing Voluminous Miss Manga mascara by L'Oreal. Taliban bans most shades of lipstick. Calls them Western Decadence. The Hives is making America Pretty again. The Hive is here to help us."

"He makes some sense," Butch said.

"Do liberals really hate pretty?" Jackie said.

"He makes sense on a more non-literal level," Butch answered.

"Can we please watch something else?"

"You choose," Butch said, handing Jackie the remote.

Jackie held the remote in her hand, stunned, looking at her boyfriend like he'd just grown two heads with perfect make-up. "What is going on with you?"

"What?" Butch said.

"You actually handed me the remote."

"Yeah. I don't feel like making any decisions right now."

Jackie flipped to a rerun of Modern Family on USA. When Sofia Vargara came on in a low cut dress showing off her huge breasts, Jackie felt a little threatened and defensively said, "She is sooo pretty."

"Not as pretty as you," Butch said, knowing that was what she needed to hear.

'Oh, you're so sweet."

"I wonder what she uses to get her skin to glow like that?" Butch said. "I'm totally jealous."

Jackie just let it go. This was going to be their new normal, and she was just going to have to get used to a boyfriend who was jealous of women for their soft skin. What else could she do? At least, she thought, we go back to school tomorrow and things will get back to normal.

Jackie slept over again Sunday night. She was scared, as was most of the population of the planet. Butch was up first and Jackie headed to the shower after him. She got in and out, throwing on Butch’s big, soft terry cloth robe and walking out the shower room just as Jeremy walked in, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Hey,” he said, barely noticing her. He’d slept in his make-up, and Jackie bit her lip knowing he would probably end up getting pimples. Holly should have warned him, Jackie thought. For her part, she’d made sure Butch had used cold cream and scrubbed his face clean.

She let herself into Butch’s room and was surprised to see Butch in his boxer shorts standing at the sink in his room and rubbing base onto his cheeks. 

“What are you doing?” Jackie asked.

“Putting on my makeup,” Butch said matter-of-factly.

“Aren’t you going to class?”

“Yeah.”

“Butch, you can’t wear make-up in public! What will people say?

“All the guys will be wearing make-up,” Butch said calmly, now dusting his cheeks with Revlon Adorable Blush. “Check Facebook, babe.”

Jackie saw his computer was on, Facebook open. She walked over and looked on, amazed to see Butch’s newsfeed cluttered with pictures of guys in full makeup smiling proudly with posts like, “My eyes are popping!” Or, ‘this is my color, right, Facebook?” She scrolled down, and saw that all the guys were changing their profile pictures and everyone was liking each other’s new looks and posting things like, “You are the cutest!” “Love your lashes!”

“No,” Jackie said. “Butch, this can’t be happening. You have to fight this, Butch.” She tried to take the mascara wand from his hand, but Butch lifted it high over his head where she couldn’t reach. 

“Babe, all the guys are wearing make-up. It’s the new thing. If I go out with a naked face, I’ll b, like, a total freak. Do you want that?”

“Butch, it’s The Hive. They’re brain washing everyone somehow. Making guys put on make-up.”

“Well, like I said last night, that just makes them idiots because now I look cuter than ever, and I think that’s just totally awesome.”

Jackie gave up. There didn’t seem to be any reasoning with him, and, she had to admit, he did look really cute. “So, are we all just going to go to class and act like nothing has changed while these aliens take over our planet?”

“We have to wait and see,” Butch said. “In the meantime, where’s the best place for me to get some cosmetics of my own? The grocery store?” 

“Butch, just meet me after football practice this afternoon, and I’ll help you put together a make-up kit.”

“Wow. Thanks,” Butch said. “You seemed kind of opposed to the idea.”

“Well, you seem determined to go through with it, and I’m your girlfriend, so I will support you and make sure we get the right colors for your complexion.”

“You’re the best,” Bitch said, but when Jackie got on her toes and moved in for a kiss, he turned his head and let indicated she should kiss him on the neck. “I don’t want to mess up my make-up,” he said, apologetically.  

Jackie nodded, kissed her boyfriend on the cheek so as not to mess up his frosty pink lipstick. When he left foe class, Jackie lay down on his bed and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest. It was going to take some getting used to, this new wrinkle in their relationship, in the world. Part of her was grossed out by the fact her man was obsessed with being “cute” and doing his face. It wasn’t manly, and she had always liked MEN. And yet, she was also loving the sight of him standing there with his mouth hanging open while brushed mascara onto his eyelashes, desperate to get them longer and wetter and prettier. She was sure this new impulse had been implanted by The Hive, and she wondered where this new thrill at seeing her boy fiend feminized was going to lead them.

Jackie's first class wasn't until 11, so she had a couple hours.  She went to the web and started surfing, trying to see what she could find out about The Hive, but as she scanned the headlines on different news sites she only grew more terrified:

Hive loosens chains of masculinity-- New York Times
 Guys, we are finally free! -- Pittsburgh Post Gazette
 Beauty stocks spike along with male pride-- Wall Street Journal
 Pretty is the New Patriotic-- Fox News

The Hive has taken over already, Jackie thought. They are controlling all the news outlets, taking over people's minds! She flipped on the Today show, and there was Matt Laurer sitting with Kathie Lee, and today his make-up was just as heavy as hers. "Of course, I and all the guys on camera have always worn make-up for work, but it had to look natural. Now, I can really express myself," Matt said. "It's so liberating."

"I'm excited for you," Kathy said. "I'm excited for all the guys out there who can finally be equal to women when it comes to beauty."

Jackie turned it off. Why am I the only one seeing this? She wondered. If they find out I'm resisting their crap, am I in danger?

The scene walking to class was surreal because it was so ordinary. People sat on benches outside Devine Hall talking. People walked along the sidewalk, sat on the grass outside the library-- just like any day, but the guys were all done up with mascara and lipstick, eye shadow and eyeliner, base and blush. Most of them had light, day looks, at least, Jackie, though a few had smokey eyes and dark red lips like they were going clubbing. She saw a guy talking to a girl pull a compact out of his backpack and check his face, all the while not missing a beat in the conversation. She saw two guys sitting cross-legged on the grass, excitedly showing each other different shades of lipstick. "I think this one is really fun," one said, holding up a tube of lime green.

"Dude, the chicks will go craaaazy for you in that color," the other one said.

 Most of the girls actually looked kind of drab by comparison. The typical college girl washed her face and stumbled blearily to her morning class. Some did a little minimal work-- especially if there were cute guys in the class, and there were sororities that insisted their members were always perfect, but now all the guys were prettied up like they were Kappa Delta girls. Jackie actually felt a little threatened, like she was being-- what was the female word for emasculated? She wondered. Defeminized? Not wanting to be less feminine than the average dude, she hurried to the bathroom and did up her face like she would to perform with the cheerleading team so at least she wouldn't be less girly than a guy.

Butch, largely under the influence of The Hive and being a go who always needed to fit in anyway, just went with it and in fact himself walking around campus in a kind fuzzy, pink bliss. When he passed friends or team mates on the sidewalk he checked out their make-up right away and nodded-- his boys were doing it right, just like he knew they would. He saw Calvin Rutledge and high-fived him as they passed. "Looking good, baby!" He said.

"I got nothing on you pretty stud!" Calvin said.

He got to the locker room early, as he usually did. He loved football and everything about it, including hanging out in the sweaty, smelly men's locker room and talking shit with the coaches and the guys. But today as he walked in, the locker room smelled like flowers, and when he got down the hall and walked into the main room he found Coach Pollock with a can of air freshener spraying it around the room, which now also had air fresheners plugged into every outlet and more sitting on top of every locker. "Brinlee," Coach Pollock said, finishing his spraying before turning to Butch. Coach Pollock paused, looking over Brinlee's face, carefully scrutinizing every inch before saying, "You look pretty as hell, son."

"Thanks, Coach," Butch said, relieved that his make-up had passed muster. As for Coach Pollock-- he had craggy skin worn and beaten by years of standing in the sun during practice and at games, and, well, in his case his make-up only served to make him look older. Butch's dad had taught him to make his compliments true, because he always said that a dishonest compliment was worse than a sincere insult, so Butch said, "You look very... dignified," Butch said. “I love that shade of lipstick on you.”

"Yeah, well, I just wish we could have had Total Equality back when I was a young buck like you getting all that attention from the girls. As it is for me, well, at least it gives me and my wife something new to talk about."

"What's with the flower spray?" Butch said, heading over to his locker to start his pre-practice ritual.

'It just smelled so.... gross... in here," Coach Pollock said. I had to do something."

I hope Coach Pollock isn't going soft, Butch thought as he went back to spraying everything with floral scented air freshener. I mean, wearing make-up is one thing-- it's about being proud men and equal to women, but let's not get carried away, now.

As the guys filtered in, they chatted about make-up and shared compliments-- all except for the kicker, Shannon Hollister. "I can't believe you guys are buying this male equality bullshit," he said sourly. 

"What bullshit?" George Wedge, the fullback said. "Girls could wear make-up. We couldn't. Now we can. That's equality."

"Yeah, man."

"Get with it."

"Did any of you ever want to wear make-up?"

"Yo, man," Calvin said, dropping into his professorial rapper mode, "in psychology class today the professor explained that we all subconsciously envied women. Our needs were all so suppressed by years of societal conditioning we didn't even know how badly we needed blush until The Hive set us free! Embrace your blush, baby. Love that lipstick because I am telling you right now, Holister, that you were one plain ugly dude, and now you are fabulous."

Holister huffed and threw up his arms. He felt like a total ass with his face all done up, but as soon the cravings hit, he'd been compelled to go through with it. There was no way to stop, especially because his girlfriend had suddenly become obsessed with the idea of having a "make-up party" and with her twisting his arm and speaking right to a need stronger than anything he'd ever known, he finally sat down and let her paint his face. When he looked at himself, he saw a clown, a she-male, a guy who was being humiliated and demeaned, and then his girlfriend had gone wild and they'd had the best sex ever, and that had just left him more confused and angry than ever. 

Then, the men faced a new question. "Do we take off our faces for practice?" George asked. 

"I'm keeping mine on," Butch said. "I feel pretty, and when I feel pretty, I feel confident."

"That's why he's the leader of this team," Calvin said. They gathered in a circle as they always did, put their hands in and Calvin said, "On three, Pretty Pride! One. Two. Three." And then the men all shouted "Pretty Pride!" and ran out of the locker room for practice.

At the end of practice, Coach Pollock gave one of his usual speeches, but at the end he added. "Make sure on Saturday you bring your A game, boys. There is no way we are going to let Purdue walk onto that field looking prettier than us, and I want you all to have perfect faces.  That means extra time practicing your make-up this week. That means getting help from your girlfriends and mothers, and if all that isn't enough for the love of God go and have it done professionally. Who's the prettiest?"

"We are!"

"I CANT HEAR YOU. WHO'S THE PRETTIEST?"

"WE ARE!"

Hollister shook his head. The whole world had gone mad, and he felt like he was the only one who could see it. He needed an ally. Someone who the guys would listen to. He needed to get Butch on his side.

Everyone got busy with their lives and the ominous sight of the black ships became less and less ominous with each passing day. The news reported nothing but news. The Hive was working with governments around the world to find ways to help. Jackie saw some stuff on the Internet-- far off mainstream reporting-- pictures that showed fighter jets launching missiles against  one of the ships and then being destroyed after the missiles exploding against an invisible force field. Posts about freedom fighters who's tried to make a stand at the ruins of The Alamo. People were disappearing. Men in Siberia had started to have periods. Pictures were out there showing supposed sighting of the aliens-- always blurry, distant pictures like photos of the Sasquatch or else really bad doctored images of 1960s aliens with tentacles and fifteen eyes. It was impossible to tell if any of it was true or not.

Butch wasn't interested. In addition to his class work and preparing for the big game, he had become obsessed with make-up. He watched You Tube videos for hours to learn tricks and how to get different looks for different occasions. He practiced and practiced, doing his face, cleaning it off, doing it again.

"What exactly are you going for?" Jackie asked, watching him one afternoon as he carefully painted glossy red lipstick on his lips with a brush.

"I'll know it when I see it," Butch said. "Sporty, fun and sexy but cute? I think?"

"Why throw sporty in there and ruin the trifecta of fun, sexy and cute?" Jackie said sarcastically.

"Hmmmmnnnn," Butch said. "Maybe you're right?"

Game Day came. The teams played. Butch led his team to victory, and afterward hurried to fix his makeup before the post game interviews. He and the other guys who'd been selected to speak to the media sat down for the post game interviews, and the first reported said, "Your eyes are popping! What's your secret?"

"Thanks so much," Butch said, quickly sharing his secrets.

"Calvin," the next reported said. "I've never seen your skin so radiant! How can guys out there get their skin to look so good?"

"It starts from the inside," Calvin said. "Diet first!"

No one asked about the game. No one seemed to much care. No one realized it was the last time a college football game would ever be played by men. The message came via text on Sunday:

ATTENTION! All MALES MUST REPORT to the Bryce Jordan Center
 at 5:30 am tomorrow. This is a public health emergency. Your life and
 the lives of others may be in danger. Failure to comply WILL result in
 expulsion from Penn State.  Check campus email for further instructions.

"This seems serious," Butch said, handing his phone to Jackie.

"Omigod," she said. "Something doesn't feel right about this. Butch, don't go."

"Didn't you read the message? I'll get expelled."

"I read this thing online where these guys in Siberia were called to a lab by The Hive? And now they have periods just like girls."

"That's bullshit," Butch said.

"Something bad is going to happen. I know it."

"You worry too much," Butch said. "It'll be fine. Just trust me, okay honey rabbit?"

"Oh, God," Jackie said, hugging Butch. "Just promise me you'll come back to me."

"Of course I will," Butch said. "You know you can count on me."

"I can't stand the thought of losing you."

They held each other for awhile. Just held each other in silence. The next morning, Jackie begged him, again, not to go. "Let's just run off. Get out of here before something terrible happens."

"Nothing terrible is going to happen," Butch said, laughing.

As it turned out, nothing terrible did happen-- to Jackie. But Butch would never be the same. 

2021 Modern Day

Monday, Butch went back to class. The world was the same. He'd put on a cute little pleated skirt and a white blouse with Peter Pan collar, white socks and saddle shoes. He braided his hair and let it fall to either side of his face in thick, golden pigtails and did his face in his usual soft palette of pink pastels.  Little diamond studs in his ears. There would be a lot of people wanting to take pictures with him, and when those pictures started to get out there on social media Butch wanted to make sure his All-American Boy image was out there. He adjusted his breasts in his push up bra and checked out how his skirt was riding on his ass, confirming that he looked cute from his perfect golden hair down to his long, smooth dancer's legs. Finally, he slung his pink backpack over his shoulders and headed off to class.

The whole world seemed different now that he looked at it from the eyes of a beauty queen. As he walked along, people looked up from their cell phones and smiled, waved, yelled congrats! When he walked into his first class, Basic Math for Boys, all the guys cheered and the pretty little teacher in his dowdy, floor length dress and serious bun, clapped his little hands and said, "Congrats Beautiful Boy!" Professor Sarah Eisenstein had been a Noble Prize finalist in physics, but now he taught Basic Math for Boys as well as Household Budgeting because, in the world of The Hive, "boy were not good at advanced numbers." A few of the boys joined Butch for smiling pictures before class started, and they were all giggly and excited to have a pageant winner in their class.

The class got down to work talking about some sort of equations. Butch did find numbers boring, and he sneakily fished out his cellphone with the pink and white jeweled case and checked Facebook, smiling to see that no less than 6 people had taken him in photos already that morning, all pictures of him smiling prettily, cheek to cheek with other pretty boys or else with big, tall women, usually with their arms around his shoulders. There had been, like, 122 pictures on Sunday, and of course Jack had posted one with Butch and his father, mother and sister; the All-American Boy was all about family. Butch looked at a picture of himself in a pink sundress and his big straw hat from Sunday Brunch posing with a couple little boys-- he looked so fresh and pretty it made him smile, and the little boys had been so excited to meet a real-life Beauty Boy! One of the boys-- Amberlin-- had posted, "I want to be just like you when I grow up!" And Butch bit his lip and posted back, "You go, pretty boy!" It made him feel good he could be a role model to the younger generation, and it was a responsibility he took seriously.

"Brene?" Professor Eisenstein said coldly. "Care to join us?"

"Sorry!" Butch said in his chirpy little voice, sticking his cellphone back in his backpack and smiling brightly. 

"Don't let it happen again. Now, please come to the board and solve this equation."

Butch stood up, smoothing his skirt and walked to the board. He bit his lip and tossed one his braids back nervously. "Omigod," he said throwing his hip out to the side. He knew the answer, but it wasn't very boy to be good at math, and he didn't want people to think he was weird.

"You can do it, Brene. Just take your time."

Butch did, pretending to almost make a mistake, then fixing it. Finally, he put his pinky in his mouth, turned to the professor and said, "Did I get the answer right?"

"Yes, Brene, you did, but it is a good thing you aren't a math major."

"Math is hard!" Butch said, skipping back to his seat, smiling as all the boys nodded their pretty heads.

Next, he had his Mothering Practicum. He headed over to the day care center and as soon as he saw all the little children his heart swelled with joy. The little boys and girls saw him and ran up, "Brene! Brene!" They shouted. Butch picked them up and hugged their little bodies his big, soft breasts, and then he said hi to the other boys working there and headed into the infant room where the young babies still in there cribs slept or cooed, grabbing their feet. This was Butch's most favorite. He just loved the little babies, with their soft skin and wispy tufts of hair, their wet, toothless smiles. He loved how they smelled, and he got right to work, changing diapers where necessary, and then getting a bottle from the sanitizer and holding one of the little babies in his arms, smiling down at it as it sucked blissfully, it's wide, pretty blue eyes staring lovingly up at Butch.

"She's so pretty," Millie Sokol, the day assistant to the director of the day care said. He'd been the vice president of operations at Penn State before The Hive.

"I love her so much," Butch said, giving the baby a gentle bounce with his knee, but carefully cradling its head to make sure there wouldn't be any trauma.

"Congrats on winning Beautiful Boy," Millie said.

"Oh, golly," Butch said. "Thanks."

"You'll make a great mother someday," Millie said. "And your babies will all be just as pretty as you are."

"Oh, that's so sweet," Butch said, swelling with pride at the compliments. "I just hope I can be as good a mother as you!"

"Well, I was a father for most of my life, but my baking is getting better every day, so maybe there's hope for me yet."

After Mothering Practicum, Butch hurried off to modern dance. His breasts were far too large for him to ever competently perform ballet, so as much as he loved it he'd chosen to concentrate on modern dance, where a curvy boy like him could excel. He slipped into his leotard and leg warmers, tied his hair back in a ponytail and walked into the studio, where some of the other boys were already at the barre, warming up. "Hi!" Butch chirped, and they chirped back, and of course there were more congratulations on his pageant win.

Monday's they did hip-hop, and they'd been working on a routine for the last couple weeks. The teacher Trip Gil, a stern, demanding woman who had no tolerance for boys and their giggling foolishness, came in and lined them up. They all stood with their shoulders back, breasts out, in first position. She nodded and said, Show 'em What Ya Got. From the top."

Janey Z started rapping one of his old songs modified for the new reality. He had a breathy, pretty voice that contrasted with the aggression of the beat:

Brand new body
What should you do?
You got more back than you ever used to
 

Go get 'em!
 

Show 'em what ya got, lil laddies
Show 'em what ya got, fetchin' felas
Show 'em what ya got, sexy shorties
Show 'em what you got pretty boys

 

Hands in the air --show 'em what ya got

And Wave-- show 'em what ya got
And Wave-- show 'em what ya got
And Wave-- show 'em what ya got

Butch lost himself in dancing to the music. Trip's choreography was all about celebrating male sexuality and identity, and when he put his little hands in the air, bent at the wrists, he proudly shook his breasts and wiggled his round hips.  The dances let him show off his strong legs and how graceful and smooth he could move, so there was lots of jumping and squatting, head bobs and fun, cute arm movements. Best of all, hip-hop dancing didn't require smiling, and Butch's cheeks still hurt! He looked at the group of boys in the mirror and it was actually kind of adorable to see them all with serious, street looks on their pretty faces-- a bunch of silly boys pretending to be tough street girls. They made little fists, lowered their chins and strutted toward the mirror with angry, aggressive looks, then turned, put their hands on their knees and started to twerk.

Wanna get the attention of some fine woman
Ya gotta let her know you got the goods
Tight tight clothes and lots of skin
Rock them curves if you want the win

When the dance was over, Trip gave notes. They ran the routine again. And Again. As class wrapped up, Butch noticed that Jack had shown up early for their lunch date and was watching, so Butch put a little extra swing in his hips.

When class ended Jack walked in and put an arm around her little boyfriend's slender waist. Butch tilted his head back, got on his toes and accepted a kiss. "You look great out there, honey buns."

"Omigod, I just love dancing to Janey Z!" Butch said. "His songs are so empowering for boys!"

"Yeah. Show those curves," Jack said, letting his hands cup Butch's ass.

Butch playfully slapped at her chest. "Be good, now."

"You just drive me so crazy. You're so fucking hot."

They kissed again. "What should we do for lunch?" Jack asked.

"Oh, you decide," Butch said. "Whatever you want is fine with me."

2019

Butch woke to Jackie's smiling face. "Where am I?" He said. He voice sounded funny. He cleared his throat.

"The hospital."

"What the fuck? What happened?" The last thing he remembered was getting some kind of inoculation at the arena. 

"The doctors say you had a reaction to the shot they gave you," Jackie said. "It was... severe."

"What kind of reaction? My voice?" He clutched his throat, started to sit up, but felt dizzy and lay back. "Fuck."

"Butch, I don't know any easy way to tell you this. So, just try to stay calm and don't over react."

"What are you talking about?"

"The reaction. What it did to you?"

"What?"

"It may not be permanent, and..."

"Stop stalling and tell me."

"It made you... small."

"Small? What does that mean?"

"Look at your hand."

Butch lifted his hand, but he didn't see it. Instead he saw a little, pink hand with long, delicate fingers, a slender wrist and a pipe cleaner arm. He pulled down the covers and felt his chest through the pink hospital gown and felt a runty bird's chest of skin and bones-- the massive bulging pecks of solid muscle he'd spent so many hours building in the gym were gone. "What the fuck?"

He looked at Jackie. "This can't be happening."

"I'm so sorry," Jackie said, seeing the shock and terror on her boyfriend's face, though he now looked like he was about 12 years old. And his voice had regressed as well. It was like a boy's voice before puberty. If he were in choir, he would be a soprano. She took Butch's hand. "I'm here for you. I want you to know that."

"Football? My career?" Butch whispered.

"We can worry about that later," Jackie said. "Right now--"

"Later? Football is my life. Was my life. Now, what .. I don't even... fuck! It'll take me years to get back in shape." He saw the look on Jackie's face. "Oh no. What else? What more?"

"I can't. Let's just take a minute..."

"Tell me!"

"You also lost some height."

"Height? How much?"

"Like... a lot."

Butch struggled to sit up. "Help me."

"Butch..."

"I need to see."

She put her arms under Butch, lifted him off the bed and set him on his feet. Butch stood there in his pink gown looking up at his girlfriend. "It's not possible," he whispered. "You're, what? Five foot nine?"
  "More like five eight."

Butch now came to her shoulder. "So, I'm what? Five four?"

"Maybe?"

Butch swayed dizzily, and Jackie grabbed him to keep him from falling, one arm around his small waist, the other around his shoulders. He clung to her weakly, feeling tiny in her arms, like a little boy. An overwhelming feeling of nausea came over him and he said, "I think I'm gonna throw up."

Jackie helped him to the bathroom, and he puked into the toilet, but it was all a foamy pink liquid as he hadn't eaten solid food in days. Jackie watched as her skinny little boyfriend got on his knees in his pink gown, with his slender arms and his glossy head of blonde hair. He looked like a 12 year old girl, and she wished there was something she could do to make this easier for him. She knew already what he was just starting to realize; Butch, the old Butch, was gone. Of course, so were all the other men.

When Butch finished he put his little hands on the toilet seat and tried to stand, but his skinny little arms and legs trembled with the effort, so Jackie put her arm around him and helped him to his feet. "Do you want me to carry you?" She asked.

"No!" Butch said. "I'm not helpless!" He leaned heavily on Jackie as they started back to his bed, but then said, "Wait." 

"What is...oh!"

Butch had caught a glimpse of his face in the bathroom mirror. He stared in shock. It was like he'd gone back in time 6 or seven years, like he was a pre-teen again. Like he'd turned into the 12 year old version of himself again, or rather, the 12 year old version of.... "Brooklyn." He said looking at his full lips and tiny, upturned nose. "Oh. My. God. Brooklyn."

"What?" Jackie said.

"I've turned into my little sister," he said, staring at the face of his little sister when she was 11 or 12, and then, finally, he couldn't fight it anymore, and the tears came, and Jackie held her tiny little boyfriend while he cried helplessly on her shoulder, mumbling "I don't want to be my sister."

Later that day, released from the hospital, Jackie got behind the wheel of Butch's Escalade and drove him back to the house. As she pulled up to the curb, Butch saw the TriDelt letters in bright pink and said, "Wrong house."

"Look again," Jackie said, and when he did Butch shook his head as he realized it was his fraternity house, only now their letters were gone replaced by the name of a sorority.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"By order of The Hive, you guys are now the Little Sister Sorority of Tri-Delta," Jackie said.

Butch sat up and looked down fraternity row; on each and every house were now the bright pink letters of a sorority. "This is fucking unbelievable," Butch said. "How can this be happening? Little Sisters?"

Jackie patted him on the knee. "The Hive."

"I'm just so confused and lost right now," Butch said in his soft, breathy voice, tears coming to his eyes once again as he put his hands to his cheeks. "Tell me what to do," he said, turning to Jackie. "I think I'm going to freak out, and I can't stop crying and I'm asking you to tell me what I should do."

Jackie took her boyfriend's soft little hands, squeezed them and said, "Let me take you upstairs. Put you to bed. Get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning."

"Okay," Butch said. "Yes. Sleep."

Jackie kissed his finger tips and smiled. "I'm here for you," she said.

She got Butch upstairs, stripped him out of his now ridiculously over-sized clothes. He put on one of his old t-shirts, which hung over him like a night dress, and then climbed into bed. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Okay," Jackie said. 

She held Butch's hand, and he drifted off to sleep. Jackie looked down at him as he slept, his chest gently rising and falling, a shock of his blonde hair hanging over his forehead. She brushed it back and smiled. Butch was so small and helpless now, so pretty and so confused and weepy. And he did look just like his sister now, which was to say very, very pretty. Everything had changed. Maybe they could have run before, gotten away, joined some kind of resistance. But now, all she could do now was take care of him, love him, try and help him adjust to his new place in the world. If she ever did go off and join the resistance, it wouldn't be a good place for someone as small and pretty as her boyfriend. She would have to leave Butch behind, but she would cross that bridge if she came to it. He was so small and so pretty. She just worried what the future held for him.

For the next three days, Butch drifted in and out of sleep. He woke long enough to eat and drink, use the toilet, and then he collapsed back onto his bed. He had hazy recollections of Jackie visiting him, telling him the doctors had said it would take a few days for him to get past the sleep stage. He had fever dreams, confused and disturbing. He was in a leotard at Madison's Dance Academy, his arms above his head, standing on his tippy toes while Brooklyn, wearing a football jersey, laughed at him and called him a sissy...

He was in his football gear, trying to get on the field, but Brooklyn and all the cheerleaders were in his way, and when he tried to push past them the girls formed a circle around him and kept shoving him to the ground until he started crying...

Brooklyn popped his bra strap, and he called out, "Mom!" While she snickered at his perky little breasts...

He was walking down the hall at Oak Hall Academy when Cassidy, his high-school girlfriend hissed poked her head out of a classroom and said, "Get in here!"

"What's up?" He said. There was something strange in her eyes. He felt nervous and afraid.

She said, "I want to make out!"

So, he followed her in, but as soon as he walked in the door two girls grabbed his arms, and they forced him to sit in a chair. Cassidy pulled out a tube of lipstick and said, "Hi, there, Sailor Moon." He struggled helplessly against the big strong girls, but he couldn't get away, and after she did his makeup Cassidy made him put on a bra and a wig, and then the Sailor Moon costume, and when he looked in the mirror he looked exactly like Sailor Moon, and the girls made him parade around the lunch room, tottering on his high heels while everyone laughed, and he heard Brooklyn and shouting, "That's my sister..."

...He was just finishing up a shower, and when he wiped the steam from the mirror to shave, he saw his sister's face looking back at him, and he realized he'd turned into Brooklyn, and now he was going to have to go to the prom with Jeff Walters...

…He woke one morning, threw back the covers and saw an angry red stain on his sheets, and then Brooklyn laughed at him while his mother gave him a box of tampons...

Each time he woke, he hoped it was all a dream only to find himself still in the same scrawny little body, and each time he looked in the mirror he saw the wide-eyed, innocent face of his little sister looking back at him. "I'm not Brooklyn," he said, but he sounded just like her, too. "I'm not Brooklyn," he said, and watched as her mouth said the words in her soft, soprano voice. "I'm a man," he said, looking away from the mirror. "I'm still a man. I'm still Butch. They can take away everything else, but they can't take away my name."

That, as he was about to learn, was not true.

The morning after the third day, Butch woke, feeling energized and alert. He showered, ran a hand through his hair, rubbed the back of his hand against his cheek and felt peach fuzz. It seemed he wouldn’t need to shave anymore. Back in his room, he pulled on a pair of sweat pants, rolled them waaaay up, and then pulled on a Penn State t-shirt which used to fit really tight, and which of course now hung off him like a tent. What the hell am I supposed to do now? He wondered. What’s been happening in the world? He didn’t even know what day it was, how much he’d missed in his classes, and--- wait. What was that? He saw two envelopes sitting on the floor by the door. The Tri-Delta had been emblazoned on the first, a cream colored envelope made out of fancy paper, and it ready Little Sisters Welcome Party. Butch tossed it aside. Like hell would he ever be a little sister.

The second came from the Office of the Registrar at Penn State and informed him that he needed to report to Heigl Hall by the end of the week for “re-orientation” and the assignment of his new schedule. New schedule? The semester was nearly half over. Great, he thought. More headaches. He threw on a pair of over-sized flip-flops, pulled a hoodie off the pile of clothes on the floor, and of course did his make-up before he headed out into the crisp fall day and began to understand how different life would be for him now as he found himself skittering along sidewalks crowded with towering women. The average woman was now a couple inches taller than him, and then when he passed a couple of girls from the basketball team he felt like a Hobbit. The girls were checking out the few guys like him that had ventured out of the house—a lot of them were still sick—and they were whispering and giggling, and he heard one say, “He’s so cute!”

“I know, right?” The other one said. “Adorable.”

Butch winced, kept his head down and just kept walking. He’d had women call him cute before, but not in that tone or with that attitude. And then he got his first glimpse of The Hive. Stopping dead in his tracks he whispered, “Holy shit.” Two of them in some kind of flat back body armor carrying some sort of blaster strapped across their shoulders, bandolier style. Pistols strapped to their legs, and belts with all kinds of pockets slung low on the wide, round hips. They were both giants-- probably seven feet tall, Butch guessed, with broad,, powerful shoulder and thick, muscular bodies but with clearly curvy shapes, and they were both extremely attractive—not pretty, they look like women, but those women who have a handsome quality, with square jaws and cold, hard eyes. Butch felt his heart flutter at the sight of those tall, powerful women, and as they passed one of them mumbled, “Hey, little guy,’ in a flat, unemotional voice, and Butch was shocked to hear himself giggle in response.

One he got to Heigl Hall, he found more Hive. They had set up some kind of command center, with black, hive shaped guard stations on the grass out front, and to enter the building Butch had to pass through a security checkpoint. They were all tall, muscular, cold, arrogant and handsome females, and Butch found himself falling for each and every one struggling to hide is bubbling emotions as he walked up to the checkpoint.

“ID,” The Hive guard said without seeming to even look at Butch. He nervously reached into the pocket of his sweat pants and pulled out his wallet, hands trembling, and the security guard took it from his hands, grabbing his Driver’s License and all-in-one student ID as well as his voter registration card and scanning them before tossing them in a trash can.

“Um…. Don’t I need those?” Butch said, barely above a whisper.

“Next,” the guard said, pressing a button allowing Butch to walk into the building, where he was immediately met by a co-ed with a name tag that read, Michelle, Orienteer. Next to her stood a cold, dispassionate Hive soldier.

“Hi!” Michelle said, grabbing Butch and giving him a hug. He felt tiny in her arms, but awkwardly hugged her back, and then she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to a little conference room. “I am SOOOOOO excited for you, little guy. Today you get to begin your whole new life of Total Equality.” Butch sat, and The Hive soldier handed Michelle a large pink envelope and then stood directly behind Butch, so he could feel her presence but not see her.

“Today, I am going to be giving you a lot of information, and it may be a little overwhelming, so feel free to ask questions as we go along, and the biggest thing I want you to remember is that I am Penn State student, too, and I am your friend and I am here to help you. Do you think you can remember that, honey?”

Honey. Again, the tone suggested she was talking to a child, but Butch felt nervous about saying anything with the soldier behind him, so he just nodded.

“Good.” Michelle opened the envelope and pulled out some documents, scanning them quickly. “I am so excited for you. Wow. You are so lucky. Do you know why, lucky boy?”

Butch braced himself. The only news that could possibly be coming his way after a set up like that was bad news. “Why?” He asked playing the game.

“Because you get a new name! Do you want to know what it is?”

“No,” Butch said. “I don’t want a new name.” 

“Oh, you’ll get to loooove it. Here. It’s on your new ID.”

Butch looked at Michelle with dread as she slid a shiny new student ID over to him. He glanced back at the soldier. It’s like a nightmare, he thought, reaching for the ID, certain it would say his name was now Brooklyn. This can’t be happening. It can’t. He looked at the ID and saw Brooklyn’s face, his face, and then he read the name, his voice oozing contempt. “Brene? That’s a girl’s name.”

“Now, Brene,” Michelle said. “That’s a pretty name for a woman or a boy in our exciting new world of Total Equality.. It’s like a new pair of shoes. It just takes some getting used to! And here is your new Driver’s license.” Again, it now listed his name as Brene, his height as 5’ 4”. The picture looked the same as the last one—like something they had pulled off his computer camera while he was surfing the web. “Now, next—“

“Wait. No,” Butch said, his voice rising as he started breathing harder. “No. Who can I talk to about this? I am not letting you change my name to Brene, and if you…”

A hand settled itself on Butch’s shoulder and squeezed. “Your name is Brene. It’s done. Get over it.”

Butch tried to shake the hand off, but the Hive soldier tightened her grip and Butch made a small, mewling noise as the pain shot through his shoulder. “Okay! Okay!” The soldier loosened her grip, but kept her hand on Butch’s shoulder. 

Michelle was still smiling. “Wow!” She said. “So, anyway, now let’s look at your awesome new schedule! The Hive designed your new schedule using advanced alien software to optimize your college experience and put you in position to succeed in your new, delicate state. Isn’t that amazing?! I just know you are going to love this!”

The Hive soldier’s hand remained on Butch’s shoulder. He looked at his schedule, and he did not like what he saw at all:

Gender Studies
 Poetry Appreciation
 Fashion for Boys
 Beginner’s Voice
 Intro to Dance

His major was now listed as Fashion Design, with a minor in modern dance. He looked up. Michelle was smiling brightly, but he saw a look in her eyes that said, don’t cause a scene. Butch smiled and said, “I love it.”

“I thought you would,” Michelle said. 

It went on a little longer, but Butch was so stunned and defeated he barely paid any attention to what was being said.  Finally, Michelle stood up, shook his hand and said, “Brene, welcome to your new life.”

“Thanks, Michelle,” Butch said, forcing a smile. As Michelle led him out, there was high-pitched shouting in one of the conference rooms. The door slammed open and a Hive soldier stepped out bear hugging a tiny, kicking male to her chest. 

“This is bullshit!” The boy screamed, and Butch was pretty sure he was looking at George Wedge, his center, reduced, like Butch, to a 12 year old. The Hive soldier threw him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him out the door screaming, “Help me! Someone help me!””

“What’s going to happen to him?” Butch asked Michelle, but the Hive soldier answered.

“Jeanette will be taken to counseling,” The Hive soldier asked. “Where he will learn to accept total equality.”

Butch walked out, clutching the pink envelope that held his new schedule and other documents, shaken and glad he hadn’t kicked up more of a fuss and been sent off to “counseling.” As it was, his mind was racing, and he was ready to make a run for it, escape to the wilds of Canada or the jungle in South America, anywhere he could get away from the crazy Hive, from the name Brene and his “new life” they had planned for him. His heart was racing, and he thought he was going to freak out and just start screaming, and he knew he had to talk to Jackie. Hear her voice. She would know what to do. He found a place to sit down in the shade and called her on his cell.

“Hi,” he said, when she picked up. “I really need to talk to you.”

“Who is this?” Jackie asked.

“It’s me.” And then he whispered, “Butch.”

“Omigod,” Jackie. “I’m still not used to your new voice! And anyway, for some reason my phone IDed you as Brene. That’s weird.”

“Your phone? That’s what I need to talk to you about!” Butch said. “They just told me that’s my name now! And…. And… they gave me a student ID and a Driver’s license with my name as Brene, and then it was, like, Jeanette is causing trouble so we’ll make him disappear and they want to make me change my major to fashion, and…”

“Calm down!” Jackie shouted. “Take a breath! 

“Sorry,” Butch squeaked. “Sorry.” He took some deep breaths. Closed his eyes.

“Good, good, good,” Jackie said, soothingly. “Okay. Now, I need to get to class… ”

“Oh, no…” Butch said.

“It’s going to be okay. Right now, I want you to just go back to your room. Play some video games or something. I’ll come right over after class, and you can tell me all about it. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Butch said. “Okay. But… hurry? I really need you right now.”

“I love you, babe,” Jackie said, ending the call. She was not, in fact, going to class. She was on her way to Hive Command, Penn State which had been constructed near the stadium, where she’d been ordered to appear. She couldn’t tell Butch. He was already losing it and on the verge of a hissy breakdown. As nervous as she felt walking to face the alien invaders who so far had seemed omnipotent in their ability to effortlessly take over and reshape the world, Jackie found herself strutting a little as she walked along and realized she was now taller than any man on campus. She hadn’t been a short girl, but she had been slightly shorter than even the average male. Now, all of those men were no much smaller, and she saw a meek, pensiveness in their hurried nervous steps as they walked around a campus where they now looked like children.

Jackie didn’t know why she’d been called to The Hive. Maybe it was just some standard thing, but she had a feeling they knew she’d been researching the resistance, suspected she might be trouble. She hoped they were just calling her in to warn her not to go any further; having seen what The Hive did to Butch, she worried they might do something much worse, but Jackie walked up to the cold, giant women standing guard at the door and said, “I was ordered to report here?”

“We know,” one of The Hive said, opening the gate. Jackie thought about running, almost turned away, but the Hive soldier let her hand fall to the pistol strapped to her leg, and Jackie gritted her teeth and walked into the cool, dark interior of Hive Command.

Inside, another Hive woman approached, but this one wore a different uniform, one that looked less utilitarian combat and more officer. “Jack,” the woman said, shaking Jackie’s hand. “Thank you so much for coming. You may call me Commander Theta. Follow me.” Jackie followed along behind the giant woman, feeling like a sheep being led to slaughter, and the feeling of doom grew worse when Commander Theta, in an offhand way said, “You’ve engaged in some interesting research lately.”

Jackie stopped. “Am I in trouble?”

“Follow me,” Commander Theta said.

“First tell me if I am in trouble. You must know I’ve been researching the resistance.”

“Taking a stand. Making demands. Going directly to the point. I knew I was right about you.”

“Then, I am in trouble?” Jackie said, thinking about the scene Butch had described, imagining herself being bagged and dragged off to some prison on the other side of the galaxy and turned into some kind of interstellar prostitute.

“Trouble? No. Management material, yes” Commander Theta said. “I brought you here to offer you a job. How does that sound?”

“Better than prison,” Jackie said, but as Commander Theta led her deep into Hive Command, she wondered if in this case they wouldn't turn out to be one and the same.

2021

At lunch, Jack kept checking her phone while going on about business in a kind of robotic, Powerpointy manner. She rattled off social media numbers and opportunities she'd been working on to get Butch some ad work.

"I'd really like to get my fashion line started," Butch said when Jack paused to check her phone.

"That comes later, babe," Jack said. "We'll get you some modeling work first, then you can get your designs out there."

"The thing is, I'm really excited about the designs I've been working on, and..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Later. Just trust me, okay. I'll handle all the business stuff. You just worry about being pretty."

"Okay," Butch said, picking at his salad.

"Don't pout," Jack said, focused intently on her phone.

"I'm not pouting," Butch said. "I'm being petulant."

"Yeah, well, getting ready to put a great big smile and that petulant little face, because I just got some very big news."

Butch looked up. "News?"

"Dream come true news, babe." Jack said, then crossed her arms over her chest and sat back, grinning.

"Tell me!" Butch said, getting excited.

"When we first met, you told me you had a dream. That dream was to one day appear on the cover of a certain magazine. Do you remember the magazine?"

"When we first met?" Butch bit his lip. Ran through the covers of magazines he read: Glamour, Vogue, Cosmo. Shook his head. When they'd first met he wasn't into modeling yet. Why would he have wanted to be on the cover of a magazine?

"It's one of the most famous magazines in the world?"

"Stop teasing and tell me!" Butch squealed.

Jack shook her head. "You're going to go nuts when you figure this out. The initials are S and I?"

Butch's eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. "Sports Illustrated?"

"I got you the cover of the Swimsuit Issue."

"Omigod! Omigod!" Butch did his tripe fist pump, jumped to his feet and ran over to throw his arms around Jack, kissing her and hugging her. "Omigod... omigod... Wait. You aren't just teasing me?"

"Swimsuit. Cover. Model."

"Omigod!"

Jack looked down at Butch's pretty face-- his wide, innocent eyes, full lips and tiny little nose, and she brushed a golden strand of hair away from his eyes. "You just leave the decisions to me, and I will make it all happen for you."

"You're so amazing," Butch said. "I'm the luckiest boy in the world."

"Brene, I'll never stop loving you," Jack said, and then they kissed again, and she held her little boyfriend in her arms, and they started to sway, and they didn't care that the whole restaurant was looking at them because they were in love, and the world was theirs to conquer. 

Butch spent the rest of lunch in a joyous cloud of lacy pink bliss. Things really do work out, and dreams can come true if you just keep believing!  Butch, thought. He had dreamt of making the cover of Sports Illustrated -- since he was 12! He thought he would make it as a star quarterback leading his team to a national title! It seemed like the dream had been lost after The Hive and his new body. I could have just given up on life, but I worked hard to make the best of my situation and now here I am about to land one of the most prestigious, career making opportunities in modeling, landing the cover of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition, which was the biggest selling issue of the year!  It was actually better than his original dream because this would open so many doors for him! He thought about all the beautiful bodies that had been on the cover over the years, models he admired and emulated as he learned his craft-- Elle McPherson, Tyra Banks, Chrissy Teigen and his all-time hero, Kate Upton! Now, the name Brene Brinlee would join that exclusive club, and he couldn't wait to share the news with his family!

After lunch, Butch had voice lessons, and then it was back to the Little Sister House to get ready to serve as a hostess at the big Tri-Delt Networking Social. It was such the event of the season, with executive recruiters coming in from New York to meet the women, and Butch was so excited they had picked him to be one of the hostesses for the event not least of all because it had given him an excuse to go shopping and buy some new clothes. He went to his closet and looked lovingly at his new dress: a Vera Wang off the shoulder silk dress with 3/4 lace sleeves. Butch ran his fingers over the cool silk and his heart fluttered. His style trendy toward boyish, but for this party the hostesses all had to look sophisticated, and Butch was super excited to get all dressed up in something so elegant. He'd found the perfect shoes-- after only, like, maybe, 3 days of looking: Kurt Geiger black pumps. Butch especially loved the heels-- they were slender little brass tubes. Omigod! Butch thought, looking at them. He'd had to beg Jack to let him have the money-- the dress alone had cost 1,800 dollars! But Jack had given in, knowing how important it was for them to Butch to be stunning at a high-profile event like the Tri-Delt NetSoc.

A visible panty line was a definite no-no, so Butch wiggled into a lacy black thong, then lifted his breasts into a matching, black lace bra. He put his hair up, sat down and carefully did his make-up-- night color and sultry sophistication, and then he stepped into his dress, slipped into his heels and stood in front of the mirror with one hand on a hip, checking himself out, smiling, smiling, smiling. He felt like the femme fatale in an old James Bond movie, and breathily said, "Why, yes, I would like a martini. But not here. In your room. With the curtains closed." He giggled, and found his jewelry box and put on his diamond earrings, a couple bracelets, a few delicate necklaces. Then, he called Jaycee.

"You ready?"

"Almost. God! Just come over and help zip me up!"

Jaycee and Butch were walking to the Tri-Delt house together. It really wasn't safe for a boy to walk on campus alone at night, and Butch would have felt even better if they'd been able to get a girl to escort them, but as it was Jaycee and his fists of mace could probably fend off any girls who tried to attack them.  He found Jaycee struggling to get his hair into an elegant silver chain headband. "Omigod, this is driving me crazy!" Butch chuckled and said, "Let me help you with that." Butch sat Jaycee down and fixed the other boy's pretty black hair, the silver silver hand band flashing. Then, Jaycee lifted his hair, and Butch zipped him up. "This is really cute," Butch said, plucking at Jaycee's dress . "You look so glamorous!"

Jaycee, who did not have a rich boyfriend, had found a gorgeous little Ted Baker A-line dress with a flirty skater skirt and matched it with some Fergie pumps that looked like they came right off the set of Madmen. He smiled and said, "You do, too. Omigod, those shoes! They probably cost more than my whole outfit!"

"Jack spoils me," Butch said, bending his knees prettily. "What can I say?"

Once the guests started to arrive, Butch and Jaycee came out of the serving area carrying trays of champagne. "Omigod," Jaycee said. Before them was a room full of tall, handsome women dressed to the 9s-- double-breasted Italian silk suits, and solid, perfectly polished leather shoes. The women stood with their legs apart, shoulders thrown back and everything about them and their clothes said-- confident, powerful, successfully. Both men instantly felt that much more feminine and pretty in their little dresses and heels and grew giddy just being near so many powerful women. The bright, flirty smiles did not have to be faked as they circulated around the room, offering champagne to the guests in bright, feminine voices. They knew all of the Tri-Delt women, of course, but were not used to seeing them so formal and handsome, and the relationship tonight was strictly impersonal, with the Big Sisters addressing them coldly, as servants, which only excited the two men even more.

Butch felt the eyes of the women on him at all times. They glanced at his full, round as he passed, ran their eyes over his smooth little shoulders, and down to his breasts. He heard comments, and even a few whispers, "He won the pageant, right? I'd love to tap that ass." It made him feel flush with excitement to have the women look at him, hunger for him. It made him feel powerful to be such a rare and beautiful object of desire, and when he caught the cold, hungry look of a predator in woman's eyes as he handed her a flute of champagne, he smiled and tilted his head to the side, looking down submissively and then giving them a nice good look as he walked away, letting his hips sway from side to side.

When the party finally ended, he was so aroused and needed to get fucked so badly, he called Jack, hoping for a late night booty call, but he call went right to voice mail. "Hey, stud" he said in his sultry, I am hungry for sex voice. "I need you."

"Someone feeling a little frisky?" Jaycee said.

"More than a little," Butch said.

"Speaking of that," Jaycee said. "One of the recruiters asked me to go back to her hotel for a nightcap, and it would have been just terribly rude to say no, don't you think?"

"You little slut!" Butch said.

"I'm not a slut," Jaycee said. "I'm promiscuous."

"Well, just be safe and call me tomorrow," Butch said, giving Jaycee a hug.

Butch walked out into the night alone, his purse clutched to his side, regretting that he hadn't asked Jaycee to lend him some mace. He felt pretty safe as he walked along sorority row, his calves aching from the night in heels, but then he came to a stretch of academic buildings, deserted this late at night, and he started breathing harder, his breasts heaving. As he clicked his way along the deserted sidewalk back to the Little Sister House, he felt like someone was watching him, stopped and looked around. No one. He heard the buzz of an electric car approaching, caught what sounded like a Sammie Smith song, and as the headlights came around the corner, he tried to wave them down to ask for a ride, but the car just zoomed past. The street grew quiet again. You're being silly, Butch thought to himself. He fished his cell phone out of his purse as he walked, dialing Jack again but-- what? His phone showed no bars. He always had service on campus. The eerie feeling that he was being stalked grew stronger. One of the street lights flickered. He thought he heard a voice shouting in the distance.

There was a clattering noise to his left. A sound like footsteps. Butch turned and hurried to the right, toward Walter Hall, walking as fast as he could in his right little skirt and heels, one arm out to the side waving as he kept his balance. It was brightly lit, and maybe he could find a security guard. He heard someone whistle behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he thought he saw someone duck behind a pillar, and he called out, "Help! Someone help!"

A rock crashed to the ground behind him, and then another, and Butch was crying now as he hiked up his skirt, his breasts heaving, and he got to the door of Walter's Hall and saw one of the cleaning boys washing the glass of the electronic signboard at the entrance, his back to Butch. Pounding on the glass, Butch said, "Help! Help me!" Then he saw the ear buds in the cleaning boy's ears, the wires leading down his pocket. "No! No," Butch said, pounding on the door with his little fists.

Another rock landed, this time right next to Butch's feet. He screamed and turned, pressing his palms against the door, his knees together, feet splayed out, and he saw them. Three figures dressed all in black, wearing ski masks, and they were walking slowly toward him making little "tss... tss... tss..." noises. They didn't speak. They just kept walking closer. And closer. 

"Please..." Butch whispered through his tears. "Just leave me alone. Please. I didn't do anything."

One of them reached into a pocket and pulled something out, a black handle, and then he pressed a button on the side and three inches of cold, hard steel slid out of the handle, glinting in the glow of the lights. "I'm going to cut your face," he said, his voice muffled by the ski mask.

Butch screamed, and in desperation grabbed the handle of the door and... it opened! It wasn't locked! He ran into the building, stumbling, almost falling, but the cleaning boy turned around and caught Butch in his arms.  Butch gasped. "You?"

 "Hello, Butch," Shannon Hollister, former kicker on the Penn State football team said. "Welcome to your new life," and he covered Butch's mouth with a rag soaked in chloroform. Butch struggled, but the drug took hold, and he sank into oblivion mumbling, "don't cut my face.... please don't cut my face."

2019

Jackie and Butch sat cross-legged on the bed in Butch's bedroom holding hands, and Butch was nodding as Jackie said, "So, I need you to go along with everything."

"Everything?" Butch had been expecting his girlfriend to have some sort of plan of how they could fight back or escape, but instead she had just explained to him that she wanted him to not only accept but embrace his feminization.

"Everything. And that includes accepting the offer to become a Tri-Delt little sister. It will keep The Hive from suspecting you, and will also "open all kinds of doors" for us. I'm Greek, and my boyfriend has to be Greek as well. The more the both of us totally buy into and commit to Total Equality, the less scrutiny we'll face. The more free we'll be."

"But, a fashion major?  Dance class? Brene? It's all so ... girly."

"Would you rather be a stripper? Because that is what The Hive is doing to boys who make trouble."

"No..." Butch said softly.

"Good. Look. I know this is hard for you. I know I am asking a lot. But just trust me, and I will make sure we both get through this, okay, Brene?"

"Do you have to call me that?"

"Yes. Now, let me here you say it. Tell me you'll trust me. Do whatever you have to do for now until we can make a safe break."

"I do. I will."

"Good. Now, the first order of business is getting you some new clothes."

"Right now?"

"No time like the present. Now, the invitation to the Little Sister welcome party specified dresses and heels, so let's start there."

"Okay," Butch said, resigned to his next round of shame, but also strangely excited. The thought of dressing in women's clothes excited him, filling him a strange new hunger for feminine expression. It reminded him of the impulse he'd had to start wearing make-up, though so far he'd been able to fight it.  "Let's go, champ. It's not so bad wearing a dress. I've been wearing them all my life, so suck it. I'm sure you'll look really cute."

  "Looking really cute is not an incentive for me," Butch said with a sigh, "but I know I have to do this. Just let me fix my make-up first."

Jackie smiled. Commander Theta would be very pleased. It was vital to make sure the guys who'd been alpha males before now became the most feminine men on campus. They were still the leaders of the boys, and others would follow their example, so it was vital she nudge her boyfriend into dresses and skirts and get him excited about dance class and fashion design. Of course, they'd primed him for her with all of the subliminal messages in broadcasts and through the Internet, but it was definitely a win for Jackie and a good start to her career in Hive Intelligence as she eased her boyfriend and other men into their new lives and, she would never admit this to Butch, but their now second-class status. Besides, she couldn't wait to see Butch in a dress!

Jackie drove them to the mall and led a bashful Butch in his over-sized sweat pants and t-shirt into Lord and Taylor. The whole first floor was nothing but dresses and skirts and blouses, and Butch felt sick to his stomach and excited as hell as he walked among the blouses and skirts, knowing that he would be wearing them soon. He wanted to badly to put on s skirt, see how cute he looked, and he hated that he wanted it, and he wished he could have just one more day before starting out his life in girl's clothes. He got a brief moment of hope when Jackie, after checking several racks, said, "There's nothing here in your size. Everything is too big."

"Miss?" She called to one of the saleswomen. "I can't seem to find any dresses in my boyfriend's size?"

The woman walked over. "Well isn't he just adorable?" She mussed Butch's hair as if he were a little boy.

"He is super cute," Jackie agreed to Butch mortification. "So, where can I find some pretty dresses for him?"

"For someone his size, upstairs. The Junior Miss Department."

"Oh, thanks!" Jackie said.

"Junior Miss? What happened to Total Equality?"

"I guess we're all misses now," Jackie said, teasingly.

When they got upstairs, Butch froze. There were a couple groups of teen-age girls moving among the racks, and some women he recognized as students at Penn State.  The thought of having strangers see him shopping for dresses terrified him. "No. Please. I don't want anyone to see me," Butch whispered. "Let's go..."

But Jackie grabbed him by the hand and dragged him into the racks of girly, feminine teen-agers clothes. He heard some girls giggling as Jackie held up a frilly, pink and white dress in front of him, and his cheeks burned with shame. "They're laughing at me!" He whispered, eyes downcast in shame.

"They are not," Jackie said, grabbing a tartan pleated mini-skirt. "Oh, this would look great on you!" More giggles.

Jackie grabbed some more things and then left Butch to wait while she found someone to open the changing room. A couple of the girls-- they looked about 15, and they were both taller than Butch-- started walking toward him. Oh, no! Why can't they just leave me alone? Butch had always been a good looking guy, and he'd been used to women drooling over him, but not making fun of him while he shopped for something cute to wear to his first Little Sister sorority function. He turned and started rifling through the rack of blouses in front of him, and as the girls walked past one of them bumped into Butch, almost knocking him off his feet.

"Sorry," the girl said, stopping and standing so close to Butch they were almost touching. "What's your name? I'm Brittany."

Butch only came to her shoulder, and he looked up at her feeling tiny and intimidated in his little boy's body. He wanted to tell her to get lost, but he felt... scared. He didn't want to make her angry. "I'm... Brene," he said, barely above a whisper. "But, I'm, like, 18 years old."

"Cool," Brittany said. "I like older boys. Especially cute ones."

Butch looked down, blushing.

"I just told you I thought you were cute," Britanny said. "Aren't you going to say thanks?"

"Thanks," Butch whispered.

Britanny stepped closer, letting her hip brush against Butch's side. She loved that boys were so small and shy now. So pretty. It made her feel powerful to tease this 18 year old boy, make him blush, flutter his long, pretty lashes. She glanced at her friend, who was smiling and shaking her head, amused by the whole thing. "Let me see those, big pretty eyes of yours, Brene," she said, putting a finger under Butch's chin.

Butch let her tilt his head back, looked in her eyes.

"Smile pretty for me," Brittany said.

"Okay, girls," Jackie said. "Leave my boyfriend alone! I have some dresses for him to try on!"

The girls scattered in a cloud of laughter, leaving Butch feeling humiliated, emasculated, like they'd stripped him and spanked him but just using words.

"I can't turn my back on your for one second without finding you flirting with some other woman!" Jackie said.

Butch didn't want to talk about it. Didn't have time to think about what had just happened. Because Jackie handed him a pink smock dress with a white, Peter Pan collar that looked like something his little sister might have worn when she was 10 and said, "put this on."

Butch stepped into the changing room clutching the dress to his chest. Once he was in the room, his mixed feelings of shame and excitement came over him again, and he held the dress in his hands, looking at it, his heart fluttering with excitement the way it used to only when he saw a hot girl. He needed to see himself in this dress. It was soooo pretty. And so he quickly stripped out of his t-shirt and sweats before stepping into the dress, pulling it up his body and sliding his arms through the little arm holes. He stepped in front of the mirror, and again his world whirled as he saw his sister looking back at him. He looked like such a girl with his tiny little arms and skinny legs, his pretty face painted in pastels. He did a little twirl, loving the way the skirt fluttered against his legs.

"Come out so I can see," Jackie said.

Butch took a deep, opened the dressing room door and for the first time in his life, stepped out into the world wearing a dress. Jackie looked at him, and smiled, her eyes going bright, and she said, "You are the prettiest thing I have ever seen."

Butch impulsively ran to her for a hug. 

"Turn around for me," Jackie said. "Let me see how it looks from the back."

Butch turned around, an overwhelming sense of relief washing over him. It felt so good to put on a dress, walk out and let Jackie see him, accept this new need, this new compulsion. And that look of love and wonder in Jackie's eyes? He had almost swooned when he saw it, and he knew he would always cherish that look in her eyes when she'd seen him in his dress, and she had called him pretty.

"Perfect. Perfect. You are definitely wearing that to the party. Now, try on the other things, and then we'll get you some cute shoes for those little feet of yours!"

As he turned to go back in the dressing room, Butch saw that Brittany and her friend were watching. "He does look really cute," he heard Britanny whisper to her friend, and Butch smiled proudly as he strutted in his little pink dress, because he had discovered that he loved it when people called him pretty. It was, like, the best?

They bought clothes, shoes. Bras. He didn't need one with his scrawny little chest, but The HIve had mandated that in the name of Total Equality men would have to wear bras when in public. "I want you to pick out something pretty to wear tonight," Jackie said, nodding toward the sleepwear department.

Jack stood looking at the mannequins in nightshirts, baby dolls. The clothes all look so soft and pretty, so colorful and alluring. He wanted to wear them all, he wanted Jackie to wear them all-- he caught a brief image of the two of them in matching hot pink bras, entwined in each other's arms, and his mouth got dry. "Go. And remember, this is for a special occasions."

Butch walked among the clothes, running his fingers over the soft, pretty fabric, drinking in all the luscious colors with his eyes. Which one would please Jack the most, he wondered? Which one would make her remember that she loved the skinny little boy he'd become? And then he saw it, and the breath caught in his throat; a princess lace baby doll in a soft pink, with matching lace panties. It was the opposite of what he'd been, and everything he was becoming. A lump in his throat, he slipped it off the rack and carried it over to Jack, his eyes downcast shyly. "Um... what do you think of this one?"

"I think it's perfect," Jackie said, mussing Butch's hair. "I can't wait to take it off you tonight."

When the returned to the Little Sister House, loaded down with bags from their shopping safari, some of the boys in the living room hurried to rush over and see what Butch had bought. Cooing and aaahing over all his pretty new clothes. Jack headed off to class while Butch threw out all of his old clothes and carefully hung his new dresses and blouses in his closet-- color coordinated-- and then folded and carefully put his bras and panties into his dresser. Then, he slipped out of his sweat pants and added them to the pile of clothes to be thrown out, and he slipped into his panties, struggled into his bra. He stepped into the tartan mini-skirt Jack had picked out for him and a sleeveless pink shirt with a white Peter Pan collar. Jackie had pushed him to get things with no sleeves assuring him that he had really sexy arms. He looked at them in the mirror and saw scrawny pipe stems he should be ashamed of, but he guess maybe in this new world having slender, lithe arms was going to be the thing for boys. He looked in the mirror, and he did look cute. Very cute. And he did look completely and totally like his little sister. At least they didn't give me her name, he thought. He turned on the television. Turned it off. Turned on the XBox. Turned it off. He brushed his hair. Checked his make-up. "Ugh!" He couldn't sit still. He wanted to get out of his room, walk around campus and... show off his new clothes.

He walked down the hall to Jeremy's room. The door was open. Jeremy was lying on his back where a pair of pink sweatpants that read "Love Pink" along the leg and a pink and white, digital camoflauge t-shirt with cute little cap sleeves.  He was holding a copy of Maxim above him. The cover was pink and white, and underneath the face of what looked like a girl version of Chris Hemsworth was the caption, "10 Tips that Will Drive Her Crazy in the Bedroom!"

"What's up?" Butch said.

"Women," Jeremy said. "You look... different."

"Yeah," Butch said, bending one knee and smiling ironically, though he'd been hoping for a compliment. "Tell me about it. Total Equality."

"Total Bullshit," Jeremy said. "What's they change your name to?"

"Brene," Butch said. "Don't make fun of me."

"Normally I would be all over that, but my name is even worse; Jaycee."

"Can you shorten it to Jay?"

"Can you leave the house without wearing a bra?"

Butch sat down next to Jaycee. "I'm going to the bookstore to pick up the books for my new classes. Wanna come with?"

"Yes," Jaycee said, surprising both of them. "Actually, I do."

And so the two pretty boys checked their make-up, fixed their hair, and walked around campus drinking in the admiring glances of the women, and they felt pretty and wanted and began to learn what it meant to live their lives as objects of desire. They took pictures of each other posing in front of campus landmarks, they took selfies together. Women walked by, checking out the pretty little boys, whistling, making comments. When Butch got home, he felt it was time. He hadn't been on social media much, but now, curled up on his bed, he posted a couple of selfies to Instagram. Then, logged onto Facebook. His page listed him as Brene Brinlee, but the profile picture was of a man with a square jaw, pronounced brow ridge, stubble and artfully disheveled hair. Butch hardly recognized that face anymore, though it had only been a matter of days, it felt like a life time. He uploaded a new picture of himself as he looked now, with his wide, innocent eyes and tiny, upturned nose, full pink lips. Heart shaped diamond earrings flashed in his little seashell ears. "Are you sure?" Facebook asked. "Yes," Butch pressed.

He checked his email. Checked Instagram to see that three people had already liked his photo, and when he went back to Facebook his sister, now identified as Brook Brinlee had already commented on his new profile picture: "Oh my God! You are so freaaaaaking cute!"

Butch smiled. This is my life now, he thought. I guess I better get used to it.

That night, when Jackie came to his room, sat on his bed and started to make out with him, Butch started to cry. "What is it?" Jackie said, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"I'm ashamed of my body," Butch said. "I'm so little now, and weak, and when you see that, really see it, you'll be... disgusted... and you'll hate me."

"Brene," Jackie said, pulling him to her. "No. No. I did love the old you, I'm not going to lie, but I love the new you even more."

"I hate being so small and weak... and… and…"

Jackie took his hand. "Brene. Get up right now and put on your baby doll. Fix your face. Take all the time you need, sweetheart. And then, I am going to show you just how much I love you."

Butch nodded. She was so confident and commanding. He had to do whatever she said, so he marched off to the bathroom, changed into his princess lace baby doll, fixed his make-up and then tied a pink kerchief over his shiny blonde hair.  His hands were trembling. He was so scared. But finally he opened the door to the bathroom and stood there, one knee raised, one hand on a hip, and he looked at the ground as his girlfriend let her eyes roam over the pretty, pink confection her boyfriend had made of himself.

She didn't say anything. She just looked. Finally, Butch glanced up through his blonde bangs, and he saw the hard, wet predatory look in his girlfriend's eyes, and his hand went to his cheek as a thrill ran through his slender little body like he'd never known. Jackie stood, locking eyes with Butch, and she walked calmly over to his, her fists clenched. Butch was trembling, scared, but he didn't look away, and Jackie grabbed him around the hips, yanked him against her and kissed him-- it was a hungry, animal kiss, unlike anything Butch had experienced, and he raised one smooth leg, pressing it against Jackie's body. As soon as the kiss ended. Jacke slipped one arm between Butch's legs and picked him up off his feet, throwing him over her shoulder. Butch felt a thrill at how strong Jackie was, how easily she could lift him, and then she tossed him into the bed, and he found himself sitting there leaning back on his little hands, his legs spread, looking up at her through his bangs with wide, excited eyes, his pink frosted lips in an inviting smile. 

Jackie took him them, climbing on top, pushing Butch onto his back. She yanked his panties down, and climbed on, riding him cowboy style, and Jack made small, pretty little bird noises as his girlfriend rode him, and he bucked his hips until he finally sang out an operatic high-note that was almost enough to shatter crystal.

After, Butch lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, stunned. He pulled his panties back on. Straightened up his baby doll. Jack was on her back, flexing and unflexing her hand, looking at ridges of the tendons on her forearm, replaying the sex in her mind-- pushing Butch down, mounting him, the soft little kitten noises he made while she took him, that high-pitched scream of surrender. "That was the best fuck I've ever had," Jackie said.

"Omigod," Butch whispered. "I love you sooo much. I'm sorry I got so insecure and needy and silly, Jackie."

Jack rolled onto one elbow, brushed the hair from Butch's face, gave him a kiss and said, "From now on, call me Jack."

2021

"You better let me go!" Butch screeched. He was tied to a chair in a dirty, dark warehouse. "Do you have any idea who my girlfriend is? What's she's capable of?"

"So, your girlfriend's going to rescue you?" Shannon Hollister said with contempt. "And you'll just sit there, a passive little princess waiting to be saved?"

"I won't have to wait long," Butch said, not even picking up on the irony. "Jack is such a badass. I can't wait to see her kick your butt!"

Shannon was wearing a baggy pair of jeans and engineer boots. A baggy flannel shirt. He'd piled his hair on his head and covered it under a knit cap. After a minute, another boy walked in-- this one dressed like a prostitute with knee-high leather stilettos, a leopard print mini-skirt, and just a bra holding up his breasts-- which were even bigger than Butch's. His face was heavily made up, big hoop earrings flashing from the deep masses of the curly black hair that framed his face and tumbled down over his soft shoulders. The second boy walked right up to Shannon, and the two looked into each other's eyes lovingly and kissed. Then the second boy looked at Butch and said, "Hey, Butch. Been a long time."

Butch had no idea who the boy was and would never socialize with a working boy anyway, but to be polite he smiled and said, "Yes. Too long, really."

"You don't remember me at all, do you?"

"No," Butch admitted.

"You spent a lot of time with your hands between my thighs."

"Um, I don't think so," Butch said, crinkling his nose.

"My name is Jeanette now, and the last time you saw me I was being dragged away for counseling by The Hive. I was screaming for help, and you just stood there with your mouth hanging open and watched them drag me away."

"George?" Butch whispered, seeing the traces of his center's formerly very masculine face in this gorgeous boy's make-up model features. 

"Yes."

"You're a working boy now?"

Jeannette's eyes grew hot with hate. "Yes. We both are. Why you?" Jeannette walked over and took a few strands of Butch's golden hair in his fingers. "You've just absolutely sold out and become just what they wanted you to be; a sweet, sexy little pageant queen. Jack must be so proud of you."

"She is, and you both are making a huge mistake..."

"Save it," Jeanette said, walking back to Shannon. They slipped their arms around each other and smiled at Butch. "By the time she finds you, it will be too late."

Looking at the two boys, smiling at him, Butch felt very afraid. He remember the knife, the threat, and he said, "Please don't cut my face."

The boys laughed. "Jesus, they have made a little girl out of you," Shannon said.

"It's pathetic," Jeanette answered.

"Please... just let me go! I won't say anything to anyone. I promise!"

"Don't worry, honey. We aren't going to cut that pretty face of yours, though a scar might do you some good. We are, however, going to make some changes. We are here to liberate men, to return things to the way they were. We call ourselves Hombre." With that she turned and started to sift through the items on a wooden work bench that ran along the wall. 

"I'm sorry.... sorry for what they I did to you, Shannon... Jeanette, I was scared... and..."

"Shut up!" Shannon yelled.

Bruce shut up, though he continued to sob, his breasts heaving. Where are you, Jack? He thought. Please hurry!

"Ahhhh..." Jeanette said, turning around. "And now we begin the process of turning Brene Brinlee back into a man."

"What?" Butch said. "But, I am a man?"

Shannon and Jeanette laughed, and then they turned his chair around to face an old fashioned portable movie screen, and Jeanette pressed a button, and it began.

2019

Butch was soon too busy to do much more than just dive into his new life. All of the Little Sisters were required to go through the pledge process with the Tri-Delts now so they could be fully welcomed into the sisterhood. He had to learn about the history of his sorority as well as their songs and prayers, plus attend required sisterhood building events, serve dinner once a week, clean his big sister's room. Meanwhile, his new classes were a load as well. In Gender Studies they were reading all the Grimm's Fairy Tales-- with all of the female characters now male-- and reading psychological and sociological theory about gender identity and how men had been oppressed throughout history and were now being liberated. Dance. Voice lessons included not just singing, but diction, with all of the boys being trained to enunciate their words in a breathy, singsong manner that was "pleasing to the woman's ear and ideal for the male register." He spent extra time working on his fashion homework-- learning all about the history of fashion, the codes and signification of different cuts and styles and items of clothing. It was his major like it or not, and the teachers had told he and his classmates that the world was going to need new designers to make pretty clothes for men, so he was excited about the prospect of being able to get a job!

It was Jack who first brought his attention to his developing body when she grabbed his butt with both hands and said, "You're getting plump back here."

"Oh no," Butch said, thinking she meant he was gaining weight for the wrong reasons in the wrong places. "But I've been so strict with my diet!" He looked in the mirror and saw that his butt was bigger, rounder, with the kind of lift to it he associated with..."

"A girl's ass," Jack said, like she's read his mind.

"What?"

"You're getting grass, babe. Girl ass, and don't worry. It's a good thing. I fucking love it on you."

"Probably just from my dance classes," Butch said, looking curiously at the shape of his behind, and noticing that his hips seemed rounder and softer, too. Within a week, he had an ass that any dancer would envy-- any female dancer from the past, anyway. It was big and firm, perfectly heart-shaped, and when he squeezed into his dresses and skirts now they pulled tight across his new rump. Other boys were staring to grow their grass as well, but Butch was far ahead, and now it seemed everywhere he went women kept complimenting him on his "sweet ass" while boys were always asking what he did to get it looking so good. Worse, some women felt entitled to slap him or pinch him on the ass.

In bed, Jack became obsessed with anal, and as much as he hated the idea, Butch couldn't say no to her, and he found himself spending his nights with her on his hands and knees, grunting softly while she took him from behind with a strap-on. She even had him slip into a pair of little pink lace panties and took a picture picture of him posing with his pelvis tilted back invitingly and posted it to her Instagram with the message, "My Boyfriend Got Serious Grass." It got 1200 likes in a single day.

Butch finally just had to go with the flow. Smile and be pretty. He had a great ass, and that came with a price. He would just have to get used to it. And, just when he was getting used to his round, soft hips and full ass, he woke up one day to find Jack playing with a soft little cone of flesh that seemed to have popped out of his chest overnight.

"You're getting boobs, honey buns," Jack said, fascinated with her boyfriend's maturing shape.

“Boobs?” Butch said as strange new pleasures flowed from the soft little mounds on his chest.

“Yeah,” Jack said, kissing Butch on the soft side of his breast, near his sternum. Then she pushed both of his breasts together and squeezed. "I love them"

"Then I love them, too," Butch said, sighing with pleasure, but something inside him, some lingering shreds of the man he used to be, felt sick with shame.

Jack went off to class, and Butch lay in bed, looking down at the soft little cones on his chest. He brushed his now shoulder length blonde hair out of his face, put the palms of his soft little hand on his nipples and felt a jolt of pleasure. They felt good from both sides, and thet were so soft and sensitive. He’d loved girl’s breasts as a dude, and when they’d started to blossom back in middle school he’d almost lost his mind. He’d never girls so fascinating, and been obsessed with copping feels to the point he’d been sent to the principals office. Now, he had little breasts, just like the girls had had way back then.

He got out of bed, feeling his new girls jiggle and sway, and he stood in front of his mirror wearing just his panties. His proud little breasts rode high on his chest, the nipples pink against his white skin, and it looked to him like his shoulders had softened and rounded as well. He grabbed a bra from his underwear drawer and slipped the delicate straps over his shoulders, then reached back and hooked it before fitting his breasts into the cups, and for the first time he felt what it was to have his breasts held and lifted by the soft cups of a bra. He turned and looked at his profile. Lifted one arm and put it on his head, lifted both arms. He was… prettier, with breasts, he decided. More feminine. He slipped one of his dresses off the hanger and pulled it over his head, down over his big, round butt, and then adjusted the straps on his shoulders. Turning, looking, putting a hand on his hip, looking the way his breasts pushed out the dress in little cones, and he knew he looked even better in the dress than he had before. And even more like Brooklyn.

He went to class. He was one of the first boys to start getting his boobs, and as women passed him their eyes just about popped out of their heads. With his curvy hips and now his boobs, he stood out on a campus where a lot of the boys still had bodies like 10 year old girls, and the women found themselves newly fascinated at the sight of a boy with a bust. “Are those real?” A woman asked him as she passed.

“Yes,” Butch said, putting his shoulders back and sticking his breasts out. “All the boys will be getting them.”

The women who knew him teased him, especially the big sisters. “Look at Brene! He’s blossoming! Brene has little titties!” Butch just smiled and stayed pretty. That week, they made him serve dinner wearing only a bra and a skirt and heels, and everyone gushed and teased him over his new puppies.

Butch started to feel proud of himself, like he was finally maturing, growing up into a big boy. Women had all the power now, and somehow having breasts of his own like a woman made him feel a little more powerful, a little less like a boy and more like a woman. It was strange to have that soft, jiggling flesh bouncing and swaying on his chest. His breasts made him feel more feminine, more vulnerable, but they also made him feel like he had a new kind of power. All he had to do was stretch his arms over his heads and every straight woman in the room would turn her head and stare. And Jack couldn’t get enough of his breasts. She loved to kiss them and fondle them and pinch his nipples and for Butch they were just two more sources of pleasure in a body that seemed to develop more of them every day.

It was fun to look at his profile in a pretty dress or blouse and see the swell of his young breasts pushing out the top, the curve of his hips, the swell of his rear. He was shaping up to be a very soft, curvy boy, and women loved him for it.

Christmas break came. Jack was heading home to visit his family and then getting back to campus early for work, so Butch took a bus back to his family’s house outside Pittsburgh. He climbed off the bus and the conductor helped him get his hot pink, hard shell suitcase out of the bus, and then as he dragged it over to the waiting area a Black Mustang pulled rumbling up next to him and as Butch braced himself for the inevitable come on, the tinted window slid open and…

“Brook?” He said, looking at the handsome woman with short hair combed back in a classic DA.

“Yo, bro,” Brook said. “Let me help me with that.” She jumped out of the car and Butch immediately felt extra tiny as he 5’ 11” frame loomed over him. She grabbed the suitcase he’d barely been able to lift with one hand and then tossed it into the truck of her car before wrapping Butch in her arms and lifting him off his feet in a crushing bear hug that left him breathless. When she set him down, she looked down at him shaking her head. “Holy crap. You turned out … pretty! You look just like me when I was in 9th grade!”

“I don’t know about that,” Butch said, fidgeting with an earring, appaled to hear her say what he’d been thinking all these months. 

 “And your voice! You’re a little doll, bro. A perfect little doll.”

“You look very handsome,” Butch said, wanting to change the subject. “Did you get taller?”

“A little,” Brook said. “Hop in. Parents are dying to see you.” 

Butch hadn’t seen his parents in person since the coming of The Hive, but he’d seen the pictures of his father, prettied up and wearing a dress at Thanksgiving, his mother in a suit. So, we he got home it was only slightly insane when his father, who now stood an inch shorter than Butch, met the two of them at the door wearing a sleeveless green mini-dress, hair piled on his head in a fancy updo, and said, in his own tiny little soprano voice, “Son! It’s so great to see you!” Then, Dad threw his arms around Butch and the two men hugged, their soft breasts pressed together, the smell of their perfume co-mingling.

“Dad, you look so young and pretty!!” Butch said, and it was true. His father looked like he’d lost 20 years, his skin smooth and radiant.

“Goodness, stop,” Dad said.

“What’s all this racket?” Mom called as she came up the basement stairs.

“Brene is home,” Brook said.

 Mom came out of the basement door wearing a pair of baggy courdorys and a bulky sweater. Stop and stared at Butch. “Oh my lord,’ he heard his mother say. “He looks just like you did when you were 12.”

“That’s what I said,” Brook answered.

“Come in. Come in. Take your boots off and let me have your coat,” Dad fussed. “I have snacks in the kitchen!”

At dinner, they caught up on each other’s lives. Dad had been reassigned as a junior secretary and was working hard to speed up his typing skills, make spreadsheets. Mom had taken over half her law firm when all but one of the male partners had resigned to focus on their families. Butch told them about studying fashion, pledging to become a Tri-Delt. Brook chuckled.

“What?”

“Well, I am Tri-Delt at Carnegie-Mellon,” Brook said, “So I guess that officially makes you my little sister now.”

“Shut up,” Butch said, though regardless of age, he did feel like he’d become Brook’s little sister even as he’ turned into her more girly, feminine twin.

“Maybe we should have named him Brooklyn,” Mom said, chuckling.

“Or just Lynn.”

Butch blushed and looked down. His father gave his hand a squeeze. “Well, I am proud of both of my kids,” he said. “These have been difficult times, and you are both rising above, just like we always taught you!”

“Brene is a perfectly good name,” Mom said, deciding they had teased Butch enough.

“What’s your name now?” Butch asked his father.

He rolled his eyes. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

Brook and Mom were both struggling not to laugh.

“Barbie.”

“As in short for Barbara?”

“No. As in Barbie doll.” And then Dad started laughing and the rest of the family laughed as well.

After dinner, Mom and Brook went downstairs to play pool. Butch and Dad did the dishes and then curled up on the couch with glasses of wine to watch The Fashion Factor on Fox News. A tiny little man with silver hair, elegantly done up beneath a sparkling head band, Betty O’Reilly sat in a pink dress with his legs crossed primly at the knees. Two women were talking about spring trends and hemlines while he smiled and nodded. They agreed that hemlines were only going to go up further so boys could celebrate their legs. At that point, they turned to Betty and said, “Don’t you agree, sweetie pie?”

“Of course,” Betty said. “You’re so smart!”

Underneath, the news crawl read, Nothing more American than great legs. Short skirts show off great legs. Shorts skirts are patriotic! Liberals wear long skirts because they hate America!”

“They are persistent,” Barbie said. “I will give them that.”

.”I hope they’re right about short skirts,” Butch said excitedly. “My legs are looking great after all my dance classes.”

“You are really filling out nicely,” Barbie said. “I can’t believe how pretty you are now! Jack must be thrilled!”

“Oh, she is. Believe me. Is she ever.” He winced and shifted his seat uncomfortably, thinking about jack tacking him from behind.

“A lot of back door action?” Barbie said, nodded.

“You, too?” Butch asked. He and his father had never shared details of their sex lives before, hadn’t talked about it much since a very awkward birds and the bees talk. But now, it just seemed natural, and the two man started chi-chatting about their women and their relationships while sipping wine and watching the Fashion Factor.

2021

Jack got Butch’s messages. Called back. Got no answer. It was late. He might have gone to sleep, but something didn’t feel right, and she’d learned to trust her gut since she’s started training with Hive intelligence. She grabbed out her Notebook and activated her tracking APP, and when the map zeroed in to a spot about 4 miles away from campus toward the edge of town, she whispered, “oh, Brene.” Then she activated a second APP, the one that tracked the chips implanted in people, and the map zeroed in on a warehouse in an abandoned industrial complex about 20 miles from Happy Valley. 

Jack nodded, grabbed her razor thin, black Hive communicator and thought of Commander Theta. The communicator buzzed. “Yes,” Theta’s cool voice answered.

“They’ve taken Brene,” Jack said.

“Excellent.”

Butch’s head was swimming, and he found himself somewhere between reality and a dream. On the screen in front of him he watched images of…. Himself. Footage of him playing football for the Nittany Lions. He’d forgotten how big he was, quick and powerful. Aggressive. It seemed like he was watching a stranger, and it made his head hurt, so he closed his eyes, but Shannon pulled his hair, and he yelped.

“Watch,” Shannon said. “Remember.”

“I don’t want to,” Butch said softly.

“You have to,’ Shannon said.

The clips went on—then a flash of a man making love to a woman- a man the way Butch used to be with muscular shoulders, ripped abs, and he was on top, the woman on the bottom, and Butch remembered making love to Jack like that, and then it cut back to images of him throwing the football, watching it glide through the air 50 yards and drop right over the head of the defender and into his receiver’s arms. Him getting leveled by a defensive end from Michigan and popping right back to his feet like nothing had happened. Tough. They’d called him tough back then. It kept going like that… clips of him before spliced together with images of old school masculinity… sex tapes… John Wayne swaggering… Robert DeNiro in Raging Bull, bloody but unbroken…

2019

Back from break, Butch found his breasts swelling from their perky little early teen size to B, then C, and finally DD cups. The attention he had been getting before was nothing now that his breasts walked into a room before he did. They were heavy and made Butch even more of a helpless creature in his tight skirts and heels, but Jack loved them and Butch lived for all the attention he got for his beautiful body. With a face and a body like his, modelling was almost inevitable. But it was Jack who really made it happen. A young photographer had seen the Grass pick on Instagram and she contacted Jack about doing a photo essay featuring Butch. It would be called The Evolution of the All-American Boy and, using new photos of Butch along with archival footage from his football days would show his blossoming into the perfect embodiement of boy hood under Total Equality.

“I don’t know,” Butch said, maintaiing his boyish modesty though the thought thrilled him.

“Well, I do know and the decision is made. You’re doing this.”

“Okay, Jack. Whatever you say, darling.”

The photographer, a reed thin young woman who went by the single name of Image, wore torn jeans, had tattoos up each forearm, and was festooned with aggressive piercings. She stood six feet tall, and Butch was scared of her when they first met and Image looked him over, mentally undressed him with her eyes, then turned to Jack and said, “He is one hot little piece of ass.”

“I told you. He looks even better in real life,” Jack said as she put a hand possessively on Butch’s shoulder.

“Not when I shoot him. You ready to become the face and body of the new American boy, sweety?”

“Yes,” Butch said, shyly.

They shot all day, images of Butch being the All-American Boy-- lounging on the porch of the Little Sister House in an afghan, his breasts visible through the netting, in a bubble bath, shopping at Victoria’s Secret… playfully blowing kisses at himself wearing only a bra and panties… He put on a pink and white Tri-Delt Little Sister tank top, his bra straps showing, and a pair of daisy dukes that hugged his wide hips and full ass and played croquette, a polka dot kerchief holding his long blonde hair back.

Image had him wrap an American flag around himself as if he’d just taken a bath, and then he waved sparklers around in a pink and white bathroom, and on the mirror behind him had been written All-American BOY in pink lipstick. He slipped into a bra and heels, and posed in the old football locker room, where the gear left over from the days when boys played sports still hung, and then finally he slipped into a cheerleader uniform with a short, pleated skirt and a tight little sweater that read Boy across his breasts in large pink letters. He stood out on the football field as the sun set, his fists in the air, one knee bent, his brightest, prettiest smile on his face despite his exhaustion.

With the final picture, Image handed her camera to her assistant—a mousy little boy she called Sunshine, walked over to Butch and gave him a long, tender hug before kissing him on top of the head. “You’ve been a perfect doll,” Image said. “A perfect little doll.” 

“Golly, thanks,” Butch said, thrilled. “No one ever called me a doll before!”

Image chuckled. “Well, get used to it, honey. You’re going to be hearing it a lot.”

2021

The Hive hit and hit hard. Sentries around the perimeter of the warehouse were taken quickly and quietly as Hive soldiers slipped silently from the shadows and disabled them. The watch on the roof of the warehouse were taken down with tranquilizer darts fired from 1000 yards by Hive snipers. The Hombre were amateurs, the Hive soldiers battled-hardened after years of intergalactic war.

Shannon and Jeanette heard a thumping noise on the roof. “Check it out,” Jeanette said. 

Butch rallied from his drug-induced stupor. “She’s here,” Butch said. “I knew Jack would come for me.”

There was a loud bang and the sound of another body thumping to the ground, then smoke rolled slowly down the stairs and pooled along the warehouse floor. Careful, measure, heavy steps came down the stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Jeanettte grabbed a luger off the table and ran over to Butch, putting the gun against his head. 

Butch gasped, started to scream, “Ja—“but Jeannette covered his mouth.

“Stay away,” Jeanette said. “I have a gun!”

Jack walked calmly from the stairwell, smoke swirling around her knees. She had Shannon’s unconscious body slung over her shoulder, and she set him down gently on the workbench. “Drop the gun,” she said to Jeanettte. “And you can still get out of this alive.”

Jeanette brushed a strand of his long hair out of his face.  Licked his lips. His hand was shaking. The gun trembling. ‘I want safe passage out of her. For me and my boyfiend!”

Jack walked calmly up to Jeanette and took the gun from his trembling little hand, then backhanded him visciously across the face. Jeanette fell to his knees, sobbing into his palms. “Boys don’t make demands.”

“We ask politely,” Butch said automatically, his eyes also filled with tears, but tears of love for the woman who’d saved him, who loved him more than anything.

Jack put a hand under Butch’s jaw and tilted his pretty face back.

“Would you please kiss me now?” Butch said.

Jack did. And then again. And again.

The movie was still playing, and as the two lovers kissed, on the screen in front of them was Butch, the old Butch, and he was running toward the end zone, and the star linebacker for the other charged toward him, the two bodies slammed together and Butch knocked the other man off his feet in a titanic clash, and then Butch ran into the endzone, and the crowd roared, and Brene Brinlee looked up into the eyes of his big strong girlfriend and said, “Thank you for saving me.”

Brene lay on his belly wearing a tiny little pair of bikini bottoms, his naked breasts pressed into the hot sand. He wore a pretty straw hat, and his blonde hair had been carefully arranged over his shoulders to look as casually perfect as possible. Around him assistants held screens to even out the light, while two photographers shot pictures of his soft, round, brown body, and a camera crew filmed the whole thing for the video segments that would be posted to the website. Brene had been handed a book, and he smiled prettily and pretended to read it, imagining it was one of his romance novels. The warm breeze was like silk and he loved the way it caressed his soft skin. This was it. What he was meant to do. Smile and be Pretty. The two things he was best at!

When the shoot ended, his manager, agent and now fiancé Jack hurried up with a blanket and draped it over Brene’s shoulders, while handing him a pair of over-sized, movie starlette sunglasses. A small group of SI people then escorted the two of them back to the hotel. It was vital that no amateur pictures of Brene Brinlee, the hot new face of American boyhood, leak before the shoot was complete and crowds of men and women had been gathering daily to get a look at the IT boy supermodel who had exploded on the scene.

“How do you feel?” Jack asked, hands on Brene’s shoulders as they got into the elevator.

“Pretty,” Brene answered with a smile thinking about what he had planned. ‘I feel pretty.”

***

The ropes binding Jack’s hands behind her back cut into her wrists. She lay on her side on a king- sized bed wearing a dress and a blonde wig. She grunted as she strained impotently against her bindings The faucet in the bathroom turned on, and something metallic clattered against porcelain, and then Brene walked in wearing a black, boxy suit with padded shoulders that obscured his curvaceous figure, giving him a flat, rectangular look. He had put his hair up and hidden it beneath a fedora. A cigarette dangled from his lips, a ring of smoke swirling around his head as he looked down at Jack with hard, predatory eyes. He lifted his arm, pulled back his sleeve and looked at the heavy gold watch on his slender wrist. “It’s time for your punishment,” he said, placing his voice as low and flat as he could manage.

“No,” Jack said, allowing herself to find a higher, breathier placement for her own voice. “Please.”

Brene pulled a pair of lace panties from her pocket. “I’ve heard enough out of you,” he said, shoving the panties in Jack’s mouth. “You’ll shut up and take it if you know what’s good for you. Got it?”

Jack nodded.

Brene pulled a switch blade out of his pocket, pressed the switch and the cold steel blade flashed in the dim light of the hotel room. Jack’s eyes went wide. She gasped. Brene slit open the top of Jack’s dress, exposing her small, firm breasts, and then he ripped it the rest of the way off her, exposing her hand, muscular body and the pink cache sex she sore. Then, he rolled her onto her back—she had to help a little-- and he put his hands on her knees, pushing her legs open. Jack resisted just enough to keep the game fun, then spread her legs as Brene climbed onto her, straddling her as he reached down and undid his zipper with an aggressive “rip.”

Brene looked down at his girlfriend, blonde bangs in her pretty eyes, her small breasts firm, tiny pink nipples hard. He felt powerful and in control, and from that position, for a moment, he felt like his old self again, a man, a predator, about to take his woman and make her his. Since that night in the warehouse, watching those images, he needed this now and then—a night free of his femininity, a night as the aggressor, the man the he used to be. He didn’t dare bring it up of course, but he’d used his feminine wiles to drop hints and suggestions and when Jack had come to think of it as her idea and proposed it to him on the night before they left for Belize and the big photo shoot, Brene had blushed and pretended to be shocked until Jack had said, “We’re going to do it, and that’s that.”

Brene had shrugged and said, “whatever you say dear,” like he always did, and now here he was, once again getting to play the man, and as he put his soft little hands on Jack’s breasts, with his French tipped nails, he smiled and said, “I’m going to fuck you silly, babe.” 

Jack shook her head, no! But her eyes were soft and wet and hungry with anticipation, and they both surrendered to the game knowing that when the morning came Brene would be her girl again, and Jack would be his man.  

Just as The Hive wanted.