Shorty - Continuation (Patreon)

Start: https://www.patreon.com/posts/90720851

...

Quentin, now "Shorty," faced Craig, feeling an unsettling mix of confusion and an unidentifiable emotion. The delicate fabric of the blouse clung to him uncomfortably, and the sensation of long hair against his shoulders was bizarrely foreign. The pressure from the bra straps further emphasized the situation for Craig, who was already wanting to put on something else while simultaneously looking at his surroundings. He literally felt too humiliated already, especially in this form.

"This is just a sick joke! I'm not your bride, this can't be real!" Quentin's voice was laced with denial and fear, far from the meek and obedient persona Craig expected.

Craig, with his usual arrogance, sneered condescendingly. "A joke? This is our engagement! What's wrong with you?! You're always so docile and submissive, Shorty. It's unlike you to be so defiant. You should know your place."

At this moment Quentin has some new sensations, looking at the dissatisfied Craig. And it was a feeling of guilt, although Quentin was not fully aware of it. "This is insane! I'm not gay... I can't possibly be in love with you!" His voice trembled, betraying his inner turmoil

Craig's voice dripped with cynicism. "Gay? Don't be absurd, Shorty. You're marrying a man, after all. Therefore you should be gentle and obedient, just as you've always been, stop this circus"

"I'm not Shorty, I'm..." Quentin faltered, his own voice seemed alien to him and for the first time in his life he felt insecure, "I'm Shorty." He tried again, his voice filled with panic, "No, I'm... Shorty." He wanted to scream that he was a school athlete, but instead, he whispered, "I'm... the bride." Quentin said with despair then that he was afraid to say this to Craig. This angry Quentin, he felt himself becoming more submissive, a feeling of love for Craig emerging, despite its craziness and wrongness.

Craig's eyes sparkled with cruel amusement. "That's right, Shorty. You're the bride" Once again hearing his new name, Craig shuddered, remembering how he called Mark that name. Before Quentin could think it over, Craig's lips crashed against him in a domineering kiss. Quentin wanted to resist, to push away, but his new form betrayed him, weak and unresponsive to his mental commands.

...

After the kiss ended, Craig's lips curled into a grin as he nonchalantly plopped down on the nearest sofa, his eyes still fixed on Shorty. "There you are, Shorty, just as you always should be," he said with a smug satisfaction. In that moment, Shorty felt an unexpected and disturbing feeling of enjoyment under his gaze, a sensation that left her deeply unsettled.

The kiss had been repulsive to her; she didn't like guys, didn't want to be a girl. The feel of the bra constricting her, the long hair cascading down her shoulders, the short skirt - all of it infuriated her. Crossing her arms at her waist, naively believing that this would give her a menacing look, she looked at her groom, feeling all this chaos in her head, realizing that she wanted to please this man who was happy to see his bride submissive

...

More than a week has already passed. Shorty, trapped in a life she loathed, worked as a secretary. The constant need to wear short skirts and perform the role of a woman was a daily struggle, but at work she at least felt freedom from her fiancé, Craig. But Deep inside, she found herself missing Craig, a realization that tormented her, considering her past as a dork and bully, who had reveled in his masculinity and disparaged others.

Shorty's latest workplace challenge was an unusual one: she had been given a secret corporate task to pretend to be the boss's mistress. An important part of such assignments is secrecy, but that was a tradition in this company. It was a demeaning assignment, but she couldn't afford to lose her job - her only escape from her life with Craig.

The day she was to enact her role, Shorty entered Mr. Black's office, rehearsing her lines, cursing this task and her new life. Finding the office empty, she sat on the desk, playfully opening a folder, a pen pressed to her lips in a mock show of flirtation, rehearsing her scene, feeling her heart beat from the wrongness of it all.

Mr. Black walked in, feigning ignorance of the situation. "Shorty, what's going on here? Why are you sitting on my table?" he asked with a hint of surprise, trying to show indignation.

Shorty looked up, feigning innocence mixed with seduction. "Oh, Mr. Black, I was just looking at some files... But actually, there's something I've been meaning to tell you..." she said, her voice laced with a manufactured allure, as everything boiled inside her out of rage.

She leaned in, her heart pounded. "I have feelings for you, Mr. Black. I think there's something... special between us," Shorty declared, her words heavy with forced sentiment.

Mr. Black responded with an unexpected move; he leaned in and kissed her. The folders fell out of her hands in surprise. Shorty was taken back; she hadn't anticipated the kiss. In her shock, she blurted out, "Mr. Black, this is just part of a secret mission, I—" but then stopped herself, realizing this could jeopardize her role.

Mr. Black pulled back, a questioning look in his eyes. "A secret mission? What do you mean, Shorty?"

Realizing her mistake, Shorty quickly covered it up. "Oh, it's just a joke, Mr. Black. Part of the... charm," she stammered, trying to steer back to her role, afraid for her job and that she might lose it.

The boss, maintaining his act of surprise, allowed a smile to creep onto his face. "Well, Shorty, this is quite the revelation. I must admit, I've had a certain fondness for you too." Oh yes, he was a good actor who arranged this whole secret mission.

...

“I can’t believe that this is my life now and... this is me now,” Shorty said slowly, looking at her reflection and at her body, which she had seen many times before. However, from time to time she felt uneasy about all this. It seemed like an eternity had passed since that first moment when she found herself here kissing her fiancé... Then there was this stupid job and the daily moronic desire to be submissive in order to please everyone and, first of all, her fiancé. It was a complete nightmare. And after that “secret mission,” Shorty didn’t play the “mistress” game and got fired... Now she got a job as a waitress.

In the dimly lit, smoky confines of the run-down café where Shorty, once Quentin, now worked, the days were long and filled with hardship. Shorty's job as a waitress was a far cry from her life as Quentin. Standing in front of the mirror, she recalled one evening after another at her new job.

Shorty's interactions with the café's patrons were often demeaning. One evening, as she navigated through the cramped tables, a boisterous customer grabbed her arm.

"Hey, sweetheart, how about you sit down and join us for a drink?" he leered, his words slurred. Shorty jerked her arm away, her voice firm yet trembling with suppressed anger. "I'm here to work, not to entertain." Her heart raced with indignation, a far cry from the confident swagger Quentin used to carry.

"Come on, don't be like that," another chimed in, "A pretty thing like you shouldn't be working in a dump like this." As Shorty turned away, she felt a slap on her ass. She whipped around, her eyes blazing with fury, but she caught herself. Quentin would have thrown a punch, but Shorty, in her current form, felt powerless, her anger simmering beneath.

The café owner, Mr. Jenkins, was no better. "Shorty, if you can't handle the customers, maybe this job isn't for you," he barked one day when she complained. "I'm doing my job. It's them who can't keep their hands to themselves," she retorted, her voice laced with frustration, this was not the first pestering from visitors, but here it seemed to be the norm.

However, this was not the most important thing for today. Shorty just tried not to think about it. Today everything was as usual, she listlessly wiped down the tables, her gaze caught a familiar figure – Craig, her former is now a fiancé, laughing and cozying up with another woman. Her heart sank, a cocktail of emotions swirling within her. Shorty, Quentin inside, felt a surge of jealousy and betrayal. The sight of Craig, so carefree and happy, was a stark reminder of the life she once had, the man she once was – confident, dominant, the exact opposite of her current existence. However, the feelings that Shorty had for him were betrayed.

As she watched them from afar, her hands trembled with a mixture of rage and sorrow. "How could you?" she whispered under her breath, the words meant for Craig, yet unheard.

Craig's laughter echoed in her ears, Shorty felt the full weight of her new reality – trapped in a body and a life so alien to her true nature.

"I was supposed to be the one laughing, not serving," she muttered to herself, her gaze lingering on Craig one last time before she turned away...