Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cute: A story of age-regression, forced feminization, and bad boy who becomes a good girl. by Patron Anonymous & Cooper TG

Author:Patron, Anonymous & Cooper, TG [Patron, Anonymous]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Surrender Media
Published: 2018-05-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 5

Al sat up, stunned, and he could see that it was already getting light outside. Damn. He’d fallen asleep! He had to go. Now! His bangs flopped into his face, and only half aware that they shouldn’t be so long, he pushed them away from his eyes and climbed out of bed, stepping as softly as he could on the floor, and tiptoeing his way to his bedroom door, cracking it open. His heart raced, and a strange thought crossed his mind, You can’t run! You need to make breakfast for mommy and Melody! He pushed it aside, fought off the feeling that what he was about to do would make him a bad girl, and lifting the hem of his nightie, he scurried down the hall and then the stairs, his car keys in hand.

​ “Allison?” He heard his mom say, and he turned to see her in the kitchen, reading her smart pad.

​ “I’m outta here, sucker!” He sang out in his high, pretty voice, and running to the front door he threw it open, took three steps out onto the front porch and then froze. There, right in the spot where his car had been parked the day before, sat a sparkling new bike. Pink, of course, featuring a wicker basket with a big, sparkling unicorn. “No,” he mumbled. “No. What happened to my Camaro? ”

​ “Surprise!” Mom called from the front door. “A brand new bike!”

​ “It’s so cute,” Melody said, walking out and taking Al by the elbow. “Now come back inside and make breakfast. I’m starving.”

​ ‘You… you sold my car?” Al said, pulling his elbow away. “I worked all summer for that. That was mine.”

​ “Silly,” Mom said. “Little girls don’t have their own cars.”

​ ‘I’m not a little girl,” Al said. “Stop saying I’m a little girl!” he stomped his foot in frustration.

​ “Aren’t you, though?” Melody said, brushing the bangs back from his eyes, then putting her hands on his smooth cheeks.

​ Al looked her right in the eyes, meaning to stand up to her, to put a stop to this madness, but then his mouth dropped open and he made a high-pitched little yelp. He was looking into her eyes, not down at her. He and Melody were now the same height. He shook his head. “This isn’t possible. It can’t be happening.”

​ “Well, what is happening is that I am hungry. So, get your cute little butt in the kitchen and make me some pancakes.” Once more, she took his elbow and steered him back toward the house. A; glanced woefully back, back to where his car should have been waiting for him, waiting to take him to freedom, and he stared in horror at that sparling pink bike that had replaced it.

​ As soon as he got done making breakfast and doing the dishes, Al raced back to his room and looked in his full-length mirror, stunned at what he saw. Not only had he somehow gotten shorter, but he’d also turned—skinny.

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