Rent Due (1/7)

Josh knew he was in trouble. Rent was two weeks late, and his bank account was emptier than his job prospects. When Mark, his landlord, cornered him outside his apartment, Josh had already rehearsed his pathetic little speech—promises, pleading, the usual groveling.

“I just need a little more time,” Josh said. “I’ll get a job, I promise.”

Mark shook his head. “You’ve been saying that for two weeks. You’re out of time.”

Josh’s voice cracked slightly. “Please… don’t kick me out. I—I’ll do whatever you want.”

Mark didn’t answer right away. His eyes drifted over Josh’s frame—narrow shoulders, soft jawline, barely a hint of muscle. A faint smirk pulled at his mouth.

“Fine,” he said slowly. “But in return… you’ll be helping me out on the weekends.”

Mark showed up that Saturday morning to pick him up. Josh slid into the passenger seat, still unsure what exactly he was expected to do. He stayed quiet, glancing over every so often, but Mark didn’t say a word. His confusion only grew as they pulled into a salon parking lot.

Mark guided him inside with a firm hand on his back, steering him past pastel walls, soft lighting, and the faint scent of hairspray and perfume. A tall, tan woman smiled politely and gently eased Josh into a padded chair.

“Don’t worry, princess,” she said sweetly, snapping on a pair of gloves. “You’re going to look so cute when we’re done with you.”

Josh blinked. “Wait—what?”

But it was too late. Warm wax slathered onto his thighs, his arms, even his chest. The first strip came off with a rip that left his toes curling and his breath caught in his throat. The girls were relentless—chatting casually while turning him smoother than he’d ever imagined, leaving his skin soft, bare, and strangely delicate.

Next came the brows. Plucked into a soft, rounded arch that made his eyes look wider, softer. A touch of pale shimmer was swept over his lids—barely noticeable, but just enough to give them a girlish sheen. The lashes were lengthened with light mascara, fanned out just enough to catch the eye, every blink suddenly slow and distracting. Then came the gloss—soft pink, a single smooth coat, making his lips look delicate and undeniably feminine.

He didn’t even have time to process it before his clothes were being stripped away. His shirt was lifted off, replaced with a snug white padded crop top that pressed flat against his chest. Sheer dotted tights were rolled up his legs one at a time, clinging tightly to his freshly waxed skin. Then the red plaid skirt was pulled up around his hips—soft, pleated, and cut high, leaving most of his legs on display beneath the sheer nylon.

Josh stared at his reflection in the mirror, eyes wide, breath shallow. The girl looking back at him was flirty, polished, and utterly unfamiliar. There wasn’t a trace of masculinity left—not in the smooth skin, not in the glossed lips, not in the way the skirt flirted with the tops of his thighs.

Josh’s cheeks burned as he followed Mark to the car, feeling strange as his nylon-clad legs slid against the leather seats. He shifted uncomfortably, voice barely above a whisper.

“Umm… why do I look like a girl?”

Mark glanced over, eyes raking over him shamelessly. “I’ve always wanted a cute little sissy,” he said, voice low and satisfied. “And the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you’d be perfect for it.”

Josh turned even redder, lips parting—but no words came. Just a soft, panicked silence as the engine purred to life beside him. He sank lower into the seat, his heart pounding, brain scrambling, already wondering what he’d just agreed to.