Emily’s footsteps echoed in Liam’s ears as she approached, each step making his humiliation more unbearable. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, knowing that there was no escape from her scrutiny. The pink shower cap over his foil-wrapped hair trapped the heat from the dryer, and his heavily secured cape made him feel restrained, helpless—exactly how Dominique wanted him to feel.
Emily stopped right in front of him, tilting her head as she inspected him like some fascinating exhibit at a carnival. “Wow,” she finally said, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re really a boy?”
Liam swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wanted to disappear, to melt into the chair, but the warm air blowing from the dryer and the cold burn inside him from Dominique’s earlier addition made it impossible to escape his reality.
Brittany, always eager to stoke the fire, let out a playful laugh. “Oh, absolutely! But don’t let appearances fool you—our little princess is getting the makeover of her dreams today.”
Emily’s eyes widened, her amusement deepening. “Oh my god! Is he… like… becoming a girl?”
Dominique, who had been observing the interaction with satisfaction, stepped in smoothly. “Of course, dear. It’s what she wants, after all.”
Emily turned back to Liam, a spark of curiosity mixed with disbelief. “Really?”
Liam opened his mouth to deny it, to beg for someone—anyone—to help him, but before he could even form the words, Dominique’s sharp gaze cut through him like a knife.
His breath hitched. He knew better.
His eyes dropped, and with a stammering voice, he whispered, “Y-Yes…”
Emily let out a delighted giggle. “That’s so crazy! I mean, I guess if you wanna be a girl, then this is, like, the perfect place for it.”
Vanessa chuckled from behind the reception desk. “Oh, don’t be so modest, Emily. This isn’t just a makeover—it’s a complete transformation.”
Emily’s eyes flickered with intrigue. “Like… hair and clothes?”
“Oh, much more than that,” Dominique answered smoothly. “A proper young lady needs everything in place—manners, posture, grace… and, of course, the right discipline to understand her place.”
Liam’s stomach churned as Emily turned back to him, her smirk growing. “That’s so wild. I kinda love it.”
But before Liam could process anything more, Brittany clapped her hands. “Alright, enough gawking at the princess—let’s not forget about the other star of today’s show.”
Riley’s body tensed as the attention shifted to her.
She had been doing everything in her power to shrink into the corner, to avoid the cruel gaze of the women in the room. But now, with every set of eyes on her, she felt exposed in a way she never had before.
Mrs. Carter, who had remained quiet until now, finally turned toward Dominique with a polite but curious smile. “And what about this one?”
Dominique’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Ah, my dear Riley. She’s finally shedding that pitiful excuse for femininity and embracing what she truly should be.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Wait… what do you mean?”
Brittany grinned, walking over to Riley and tapping a manicured finger under her chin, forcing her to look up. “Well, sweetie, your mom decided that your frilly little life wasn’t quite working out—so, guess what?”
Riley’s breathing quickened, her hands clenching at her sides. She already knew what was coming, but hearing it spoken so casually made her skin crawl.
Brittany turned to Emily, grinning. “She’s getting a boy’s haircut today.”
Emily’s mouth fell open in shock before twisting into amusement. “Shut up! Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” Vanessa chimed in, folding her arms. “Sides shaved, top buzzed, nice and crisp. And not just the hair—we’re talking full transformation.”
Emily turned to Dominique, who nodded smugly. “Oh, yes. She’s going to learn what it means to be strong, disciplined, and masculine. No more hiding behind weak, pathetic girlhood. By the time we’re done, she’ll be unrecognizable.”
Emily looked back at Riley, her excitement barely contained. “Oh my god, that’s actually insane.”
Tears pricked at Riley’s eyes, but she bit them back. She couldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Mrs. Carter, sipping her tea, smiled approvingly. “That’s quite… unconventional.”
Dominique chuckled. “Unconventional, perhaps, but necessary. My stepchildren had far too much freedom before, and look what that did to them. But don’t worry—by the end of today, they’ll both be in their proper places.”
Brittany, who had been watching Riley squirm with satisfaction, suddenly perked up. “Speaking of which, I have an idea!”
She turned to Dominique with an almost mischievous glint in her eyes. “Since Eleanor won’t be here for a couple of hours… why don’t we let Emily help with Riley’s transformation?”
Emily’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really? Oh my god, I’d love that!”
Riley’s blood ran cold.
Brittany grinned. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” she cooed mockingly at Riley. “Emily will be very gentle.”
Vanessa and Dominique both let out small chuckles, while Mrs. Carter simply watched in mild amusement.
Emily clapped her hands together. “This is gonna be so fun.”
Riley, on the other hand, knew this was going to be hell.
And there was no escape.
As Emily’s eyes lit up with curiosity, Dominique gave her an approving nod. “Go on, dear. Teach Riley what it means to be a man—strong, obedient, and hardworking. After all, men are meant to serve, aren’t they?”
Vanessa and Brittany chuckled at the remark, their eyes fixed on Riley, whose bare skin flushed even redder. She lowered her head, hoping to shrink away, but Dominique’s voice cut through the air like a whip.
“Stand up straight, boy,” she snapped, emphasizing the last word mockingly.
Riley flinched and straightened, her muscles tense as Emily stepped closer. The younger girl hesitated at first, looking between Dominique and her mother, Mrs. Carter, before finally grinning. “So, I can make her do anything?” she asked, her tone laced with mischief.
Dominique smiled. “Absolutely. A strong, capable girl like you should know how to keep a weak little thing like him in line.”
Emily’s confidence grew. She took a step forward and tapped Riley’s bare shoulder, making the humiliated girl flinch. “Hmm… let’s see,” Emily mused, tapping her finger against her chin. “I think this salon floor looks a little dusty. Get on your hands and knees and start cleaning.”
Riley’s stomach twisted into knots, but she knew resisting would only make things worse. Slowly, she sank to her knees, her nakedness making her feel even smaller.
“Good boy,” Emily mocked, emphasizing the word just as Dominique had.
Brittany, who had been setting up Mrs. Carter’s color treatment, turned to watch. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” she giggled.
As Riley hesitantly began using her hands to wipe imaginary dust from the floor, Emily’s foot nudged her side. “Not like that,” she said. “Use your tongue.”
Riley’s eyes widened in shock, and she turned to Dominique, silently pleading for mercy. But her stepmother only crossed her arms, looking down at her with amusement.
“Don’t keep Emily waiting,” she said coolly.
With trembling hesitation, Riley bent her head lower, her face hovering just above the floor. But before she could bring herself to do it, Emily playfully flicked the back of her head. “Ugh, you’re so slow! No wonder you need to be taught how to be a real man.”
Vanessa, who had been watching with delight, stepped forward. “Maybe he needs some encouragement,” she suggested. Then, without warning, she delivered a sharp slap to Riley’s exposed backside.
Riley gasped, her body jerking from the sting. She clenched her hands into fists, but she knew better than to resist.
Emily laughed. “See? Even she agrees with me. Now hurry up and clean.”
With a burning face and a throbbing backside, Riley obeyed, the salon filled with laughter and cruel amusement as her torment continued.
Meanwhile, Liam sat under the hooded dryer, unable to escape the scene unfolding before him. The heat pressed down on his freshly colored hair, but the fire of humiliation burned even hotter within him.
Brittany turned back to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, princess,” she said sweetly. “Once we’re done with you, you’ll be the prettiest little thing here.”
The words sent a shiver down Liam’s spine. He knew his transformation was far from over.
As Riley continued scrubbing the floor, her knees aching against the hard surface, Emily yanked lightly on her long hair, using it as a makeshift leash to guide her from one spot to another. “Come on, you missed a spot here,” she said mockingly, nudging Riley forward. “And don’t be lazy. Put some effort into it!”
Riley gritted her teeth but knew better than to resist. The last thing she wanted was for Dominique to step in and make things worse.
Vanessa chuckled from the reception desk. “Looks like you’ve got a natural talent for keeping unruly boys in check, Emily.”
“Oh, it’s easy,” Emily smirked, giving Riley’s hair a little tug just to hear the barely suppressed whimper. “They just need to be reminded of their place.”
Dominique, who had been casually watching, nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Males need structure and discipline, or they start thinking they have opinions that matter.”
After another few minutes of forced cleaning, Emily grew bored and glanced toward Liam, still sitting under the hooded dryer with his hair wrapped in foil, the pink shower cap adding to his humiliation. His face burned as he caught Emily’s gaze.
Emily smirked. “I think I want to check on the little princess now.” She let go of Riley’s hair and stood up, brushing off her hands like she had just finished dealing with something filthy.
Riley kept her head down, relieved that the torment had shifted away from her—at least for now.
Emily sauntered over to Liam, standing next to his chair with a curious tilt of her head. “So, tell me, how does it feel, princess?” she teased, lightly flicking the edge of his plastic cape. “Excited about your new look?”
Liam clenched his fists beneath the heavy layers draped around him, but before he could respond, Dominique cut in with a sweet yet condescending tone. “Oh, you should know, Emily, that our dear little princess is also experiencing something very special today.”
Emily raised a brow. “Oh? And what’s that?”
Brittany, finishing up with Mrs. Carter’s hair, smirked and chimed in. “Let’s just say he’s getting the full experience of girlhood—starting with his very first ‘period.’”
Emily’s eyes widened in amusement. “No way! How?”
Brittany patted the seat of Liam’s skirt and leaned in with a mock-whisper. “Let’s just say Dominique is very thorough in making sure he understands what being a proper lady means.”
Liam squirmed in his chair, feeling his humiliation deepen as Emily laughed.
Dominique placed a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take a seat, dear? It’s your turn now.”
Emily’s face lit up with excitement. “Oh, perfect! But… hmm,” she glanced back at Riley, who was still kneeling by the floor, her face burning with shame. A wicked idea struck her. “Can I use Riley as my footrest while I get my haircut? It’ll help her understand how to be useful.”
Vanessa smirked. “That’s an excellent idea.”
Dominique chuckled. “Oh, absolutely. And if she moves, just give her a little nudge. She needs to learn discipline, after all.”
As the adults resumed their conversation, Riley hesitated for only a second before forcing herself to crawl forward, positioning herself at Emily’s feet. She swallowed her pride, her cheeks burning, as Emily casually rested her feet on her back like she was just another piece of furniture.
Brittany, meanwhile, tightened the hooded dryer over Liam’s head, sealing in the heat. “You’re gonna be cooking for a while, little princess,” she teased, patting his shoulder before turning her attention to Emily’s haircut.
The room filled with light chatter and laughter, but for the twins, the weight of their humiliations only deepened.
As the salon buzzed with casual conversation, Emily relaxed in the chair, stretching her legs and pressing her heels just slightly into Riley’s back, testing her patience. Riley winced but remained still, knowing that any reaction would only make things worse.
Vanessa, observing the scene from her desk, smirked. “She’s holding up well. Maybe there’s some hope for her to learn her new role after all.”
Dominique chuckled, sipping her tea. “Oh, she’ll learn. They both will.” Her gaze flickered toward Liam, still trapped under the hooded dryer, pink shower cap in place, his reflection in the glass window showcasing his humiliating position to any passersby.
Brittany gathered her tools, running a comb through Emily’s shoulder-length hair. “So, what are we doing today?”
Emily tilted her head slightly, still grinning from the fun she was having. “Something shorter, I think. Maybe a bob?”
Mrs. Carter nodded in approval. “Something fresh and stylish.”
Brittany began sectioning her hair, humming softly. “Perfect. A chic bob will suit you well. And you know, it’s quite the contrast to what your little footstool will be getting.” She glanced down at Riley, who was trembling slightly under Emily’s feet.
Emily giggled. “Oh, yeah! She’s getting shaved down, right?”
Dominique nodded. “Once Eleanor arrives, Riley’s going to get the proper cut for the new role she’ll be playing. Short, sharp, and no nonsense—just like a good little man should have.”
The thought made Riley’s stomach turn. Her long hair, the one thing she felt gave her identity, was going to be stripped away.
Meanwhile, Liam sat helplessly under the heat of the dryer, the warm air amplifying his discomfort. The humiliating layers around his neck, the thick rubber cape, and the constant knowledge that he was completely powerless only made his situation worse.
Emily suddenly perked up, turning toward Brittany with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Hey, since Liam’s going to be a full-on little princess, shouldn’t she get a little… extra?”
Brittany smirked. “Oh? What are you thinking?”
Emily tapped her chin playfully, then snapped her fingers. “Makeup! I mean, what kind of princess doesn’t have a cute little makeover?”
Vanessa let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, I love that idea!”
Dominique, always eager to push things further, nodded approvingly. “Absolutely. In fact, we should go all out—lashes, contouring, lipstick. A proper lady never leaves the house without being perfectly presentable.”
Liam’s stomach twisted. The idea of having his face painted up, further cementing his forced transformation, was too much to bear.
Brittany grinned. “Lucky for you, Emily, I’m a stylist, not a makeup artist. But…” She glanced toward Vanessa. “Our dear receptionist does have a bit of a talent with cosmetics.”
Vanessa clapped her hands together excitedly. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”
Liam whimpered under the dryer, his reflection in the window now a cruel reminder of just how much further his transformation was about to go.
And across the room, Riley, still serving as Emily’s footrest, could do nothing but wait in dread for her own turn in the chair.
The salon continued to buzz with conversation, most of it centering around the twins’ humiliating transformations. Dominique and Mrs. Carter casually sipped their tea, exchanging stories about the importance of discipline, while Vanessa eagerly discussed makeup ideas for Liam. All the while, Emily stretched and wiggled her feet, pressing her heels into Riley’s back as if testing her resilience.
Then, with a sharp ding, the timer of Liam’s dryer went off.
Brittany perked up, placing the scissors down on her workstation and turning toward Emily. “Mind pausing for a bit, sweetheart? I need to get our little princess out of the oven and see how she’s coming along.”
Emily grinned, her eyes flickering toward Liam’s reflection in the glass window. “Oh, I don’t mind at all! I need to see what color she got!” She leaned back in the chair, stretching her arms dramatically while pressing her heels just a bit harder into Riley’s spine. The poor girl whimpered but remained still, knowing any resistance would only make things worse.
Brittany walked over to Liam, her heels clicking against the floor as she approached his chair. The helpless boy flinched as she stood behind him, reaching for the plastic hood that had trapped him under its warmth for the past half hour.
“Alright, princess,” she cooed mockingly, “let’s see how that hair of yours turned out.”
With a dramatic flourish, she lifted the hood of the dryer and flipped it back, allowing the warm air to escape. The sudden rush of cool air against his scalp made Liam shiver. Brittany chuckled, placing a firm hand under his chin and tilting his face upward.
“Up we go,” she instructed, sliding her hands beneath the thick pink cape and undoing the layers of security around his neck. First, the heavy rubber stylist collar came off, then the large vinyl cape, and finally the towel that had been wrapped around his shoulders. The moment his vulnerable neck was exposed, Liam gulped, dreading what came next.
“Stand up,” Brittany ordered, patting his shoulder.
Liam hesitated, but a sharp look from Dominique made him scramble out of the chair. The layers of salon coverings pooled at his feet as Brittany took his wrist and led him to the shampoo station. As he walked, the ice-cold sensation of the melting cubes inside him made every step a miserable experience.
Vanessa smirked as she watched him struggle. “Aw, poor thing, still feeling her ‘special time’?”
Liam whimpered but said nothing.
Brittany guided him to the sink, pressing down on his shoulders to make him bend forward. The angle made his humiliating panties and pad press further against him, reminding him of the cruel joke played on his body.
“Head down, princess,” Brittany instructed as she turned on the water. A warm stream flowed from the faucet, and she carefully adjusted the temperature before directing it onto Liam’s foiled-up hair. The moment the water hit, the strong scent of chemicals intensified, filling the air with the unmistakable aroma of bleach and toner.
Brittany worked efficiently, peeling back the aluminum foil and massaging his scalp to rinse out the excess dye. As she scrubbed, she spoke in a syrupy-sweet tone.
“You know, little princess, you’re so lucky,” she teased. “Not every girl gets the chance to be pampered like this. Most have to wait years to achieve the perfect blonde color, but you? You got it in one sitting!”
Liam clenched his fists, but he dared not argue.
After a thorough rinse, Brittany squeezed out the excess water and wrapped his head in a plush white towel, tucking the ends securely at the nape of his neck. Then, with a firm grip, she pulled him back up and guided him toward the styling chair where Riley had previously been sitting.
“Alright, back you go,” she said, pushing him down into the chair.
Liam sat stiffly as Brittany unwrapped the towel, revealing his freshly colored hair. A soft gasp escaped from Emily, who had turned her head eagerly to watch.
“Oh my god, it’s perfect!” Emily giggled, clapping her hands together. “He looks just like a doll!”
Brittany ran a brush through Liam’s damp locks, smoothing them out before positioning the mirror in front of him. His reflection stared back in horror—his natural light brown hair was now a striking rose-gold blonde, shimmering under the salon lights. It was soft, feminine, and undeniably beautiful.
Dominique grinned, clearly pleased. “Oh, that’s exactly what I wanted. Doesn’t she look precious?”
Liam swallowed hard, unable to respond.
But Brittany wasn’t done. Setting the brush down, she reached for a tray of hair rollers, her expression full of mischief.
“Now, now,” she cooed, picking up a section of his hair, “a true princess doesn’t just have blonde hair. She needs the perfect curls to match!”
Liam’s stomach dropped.
One by one, Brittany began rolling his damp locks onto large, soft pink curlers, securing each with precision. She worked methodically, making sure each section was neatly wrapped, ensuring that when the rollers came out, his hair would fall in soft, bouncy curls.
Emily watched with excitement, kicking her feet slightly—much to Riley’s discomfort. “I love this! He’s going to look so adorable when it’s done!”
Once every strand of Liam’s hair had been tucked into curlers, Brittany gave his head a light pat.
“All set!” she chirped, grabbing a sheer, plastic processing cap. With a little shake, she snapped it open and pulled it over Liam’s rolled-up hair, tucking it securely around his head. “Now, let’s get you back under the dryer. You still need to cook a little longer.”
Liam’s face burned red as Brittany guided him back to the same chair by the window. She pressed down on his shoulders, forcing him to sit before lowering the hood of the dryer over his head once more.
“There you go, little princess,” Brittany teased, adjusting the settings. “Now you can watch the world, and the world can watch you.”
Liam gulped, feeling utterly helpless.
Brittany turned back to Emily. “Alright, sweetheart, now that he’s settled, let’s finish up your cut!”
Emily beamed, running her fingers through her partially cut hair. “Yay! And don’t worry, I love my little footstool, so I’m not in a rush.”
Riley, still kneeling, trembled as Emily once again pressed her heels into her back, reminding her that the humiliation was far from over.
Dominique and Mrs. Carter, meanwhile, continued chatting as if nothing unusual was happening at all.
And with that, the salon carried on, the cruel laughter of its occupants filling the air while the twins endured their ongoing transformations—one into a humiliated sissy princess, the other into a broken, subjugated servant.
The salon door swung open once more, and the sharp click of heels echoed across the floor. Eleanor had arrived. Vanessa’s face lit up as she welcomed her with enthusiasm, but Eleanor, ever the professional, simply adjusted the cuffs of her pristine black stylist’s jacket and surveyed the scene with a raised brow.
Her sharp eyes swept across the room, taking in Mrs. Carter lounging comfortably, Emily grinning in the styling chair, and Riley—who was still kneeling, head lowered, serving as Emily’s makeshift footstool. Eleanor frowned.
“And where, exactly, is my client?” Her tone was cool, clipped, and full of expectation.
Vanessa smirked, gesturing toward Riley. “Right under your nose—well, under Emily’s heels, to be exact.”
Eleanor sighed and crossed her arms. “I cannot stand clients who don’t take their appointments seriously.” She turned to Dominique. “You have my respect for correcting their behavior, but you should expect some additional discipline for her delay. Time is valuable, and I do not waste mine.”
Riley’s stomach tightened. Even after everything, she was still expected to endure more. But she knew better than to protest. She swallowed hard and remained still beneath Emily’s feet.
Eleanor walked further into the salon, finally stopping beside the hooded dryer where Liam sat. She studied him for a moment—his delicate features framed by pink plastic rollers, his freshly colored hair tucked neatly beneath the cap, the modest way he kept his hands folded in his lap despite his humiliating predicament.
She sniffed. “Pathetic.”
Liam’s cheeks burned. He wanted to disappear, but the salon’s bright lighting made sure there was nowhere to hide.
Eleanor turned her gaze to Dominique and nodded approvingly. “You made the right choice. Boys like him don’t deserve to carry themselves as men. There’s no strength in them. But as a refined little sissy? Now, that’s a role he might just fit into.”
Dominique chuckled. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”
Brittany, who had just finished the last snip of Emily’s haircut, clapped her hands together. “Now that Eleanor’s here, I suppose we should get things moving.” She untied the cape from Emily and gestured toward Riley. “Your footstool is finally free.”
Emily sighed dramatically as she moved her feet off Riley’s back. “That was fun while it lasted.” She stood up and turned toward Liam, who was still trapped under the dryer. “But I think I’ll have even more fun with our little princess here.”
Liam flinched at the phrase.
Eleanor, meanwhile, stepped behind Riley’s chair and draped a crisp, dark salon cape over her. “We have a lot of work to do with this one,” she mused, running a comb through Riley’s hair. “Let’s see if we can turn her into something respectable.”
The salon was buzzing with activity now. Brittany prepared to take Liam back to the sink, Eleanor was already mapping out Riley’s transformation, and Dominique sat back, perfectly at ease, watching as her stepchildren were reshaped right before her eyes.
Eleanor stepped up behind Riley’s chair, her presence alone casting a shadow over the humiliated girl. She placed her hands on the chair’s armrests, caging Riley in as she looked down at her with an unimpressed expression.
“And what exactly are we doing with this one?” Eleanor asked, her voice sharp and unwavering.
Before anyone else could answer, Eleanor grabbed a section of Riley’s hair between her fingers and gave it a sharp tug—not enough to harm, but enough to remind Riley who was in control.
“I asked you,” Eleanor said coolly.
Riley flinched, her scalp tingling from the unexpected pull. She knew there was no way out of this. With a trembling voice, she answered, “A… a short boy’s cut… sides and back shaved… the top buzzed down…” Her voice trailed off as her own words sank in.
Eleanor finally released her grip, brushing her hands off as if disgusted. “Well, at least you know your place,” she remarked, shaking her head. “You’re the one who asked for it, so I don’t want to hear any whining when you see the results.”
Riley’s stomach sank. Every word felt like a nail sealing her fate.
Meanwhile, across the salon, Brittany was working with equal enthusiasm. She had just turned off the hooded dryer, and steam escaped as she lifted the dome from Liam’s head. His rose-gold curls shimmered under the lights, the soft rollers still tightly wound in place.
Brittany clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, just look at you! I think you’ve outdone your sister in the beauty department already, little princess.”
Liam’s hands curled into small fists on his lap, but he didn’t dare speak. He just kept his head lowered as Brittany unwrapped each roller with practiced precision, letting the glossy curls bounce freely.
Vanessa leaned in, smirking. “I’d say he was made for this, don’t you think?”
Brittany nodded in agreement. “Oh, absolutely! Some boys just aren’t meant to be boys at all.” She picked up a wide-toothed comb and gently fluffed Liam’s curls, making sure they framed his face just right.
Dominique sipped her coffee leisurely, watching the transformation unfold with satisfaction. “It’s funny,” she mused, “Liam was always so… insignificant before. But now? He’s finally becoming something worth looking at.”
Across the room, Eleanor was in full control, tilting Riley’s head this way and that, inspecting her face as though she were an artist examining a blank canvas. “Let’s get this over with,” she said, snapping her fingers.
She reached for her clippers, flicking them on with a sharp buzz. The sound alone sent a fresh wave of humiliation through Riley’s body. Eleanor placed a firm hand on the top of Riley’s head, keeping her still.
“Chin up. If you’re going to look like a boy, at least have the decency to sit like one.”
Riley’s face burned as she obeyed. She sat stiffly as Eleanor pressed the clippers against her temple and dragged them backward, sending long, dark strands tumbling down the cape. The contrast between her shorn scalp and the remaining hair was stark.
Vanessa whistled. “Wow, look at that. It’s amazing how a few passes of the clippers can strip away all that delicate femininity.”
Riley bit the inside of her cheek. She knew she had to endure this, but every degrading remark chipped away at what little confidence she had left.
Eleanor continued with precision, guiding the clippers along the sides and back, each stroke reducing her once-long hair to nothing but harsh stubble.
At the same time, Brittany was finishing Liam’s styling, using a fine brush to shape his soft curls perfectly. She then picked up a compact and a delicate pink powder puff.
“Let’s give those cheeks a bit of life, shall we?” she cooed, dusting a soft blush onto Liam’s face.
He winced but didn’t move. He could already hear Emily giggling behind him.
“Oh, he looks adorable,” Emily teased. “Like a perfect little doll.”
Brittany grinned. “Well, we’re not done just yet.” She reached for a tube of gloss, twisting it open with a playful pop. “Pucker up, princess.”
Liam swallowed hard. He hesitated for only a second before obeying, his lips parting slightly. Brittany leaned in and carefully smoothed the shimmery gloss over his lips.
Meanwhile, Eleanor finished Riley’s cut with a flourish, running her palm over the freshly buzzed top. “Number two, just as requested,” she said. “It’s so short and bristly, just the way boys like it.” She smirked. “Do you feel tough yet?”
Riley stared at her reflection, swallowing back the lump in her throat. She barely recognized herself.
Eleanor turned to Dominique. “I’d say this one finally looks the part. All that softness is gone.”
Dominique chuckled. “Excellent. I do like my children to match.”
Riley and Liam exchanged a brief glance through the mirror. They both knew—they weren’t just twins anymore. They were living dolls, molded into whatever their stepmother saw fit.
And the salon staff? They were only getting started.
With Riley still seated in the chair, Eleanor let out a sharp tsk before reaching for her clippers again. “I don’t know what I was thinking, leaving this much hair on you,” she said with clear disdain. “You don’t deserve a simple boy’s cut—you need to be shaved.”
Before Riley could react, Eleanor snapped her fingers. “Head down. Now.”
Riley obeyed instantly, lowering her head until her chin nearly touched her chest. The cold air against her already exposed nape sent a shiver down her spine.
Click.
The clippers roared to life once more.
Without hesitation, Eleanor pressed the bare metal blades against Riley’s scalp and drove them up the back of her head, sending more of her dark locks cascading to the floor. Unlike before, there was no guard—this time, the clippers were stripping her down completely, leaving nothing but raw, bare skin in their wake.
The vibration against her scalp was relentless, the sound of buzzing filling her ears as Eleanor continued stripping away every last remnant of femininity. Riley’s breath hitched as she felt the cool air against her newly shaved skin—it was smooth, stark, and unmistakably brutal.
Vanessa smirked, sipping her tea. “Now that’s how a real man should look.”
Dominique, who had been casually sipping her coffee, nodded approvingly. “She’s finally being molded into what she was meant to be.”
Riley sat frozen in place, feeling the sharp contrast between the freshly shaved sides of her head and the slightly longer hair still left on top.
“Hmm,” Eleanor mused, stepping back to examine her work. “It’s still too soft.”
Without a word, she reached for a jar of shaving cream, dipped two fingers in, and began smearing the thick foam over the raw skin of Riley’s back and sides. The cold sensation made Riley flinch, but she didn’t dare protest.
Eleanor then grabbed a straight razor and tilted Riley’s head even further forward. “I want this flawless.”
With slow, deliberate strokes, she scraped away the final layer of stubble, leaving Riley’s sides and nape perfectly smooth, free of any trace of hair. The razor was unforgiving, its sharp edge dragging across her delicate skin, reinforcing the complete and utter erasure of her former self.
Once satisfied, Eleanor wiped away the excess foam and gave Riley’s head a firm pat. “Now that is how a proper boy should look,” she declared. “No nonsense, no softness—just stark, practicality.”
Vanessa leaned against the counter, watching with a smirk. “Such a drastic improvement. Though, I wonder… does she feel the part yet?”
Dominique, who had been leisurely sipping her coffee, set her cup down with a soft clink. “Not quite,” she mused. “Appearance is only half the battle. It’s about attitude.”
As if on cue, Emily piped up. “Oh! I have an idea!” She turned in her chair, beaming as she looked at Riley, still seated in front of the mirror. “Before we go, I definitely need a little service from my new footstool.”
Riley’s breath hitched. Her stomach clenched at the thought of being reduced to nothing more than furniture again.
Eleanor raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. Instead, she grabbed Riley’s cape and unfastened it with a dramatic flourish, letting the last strands of dark hair tumble to the floor.
“On your knees,” she ordered.
Riley hesitated for a split second. That was a mistake.
Without warning, Eleanor reached out and grabbed Riley’s newly shaved head, gripping it firmly and forcing her down to the floor. The pressure was just enough to make her whimper, but not enough to leave a mark.
“I said—on your knees,” Eleanor repeated, her voice as sharp as ever.
Tears burned behind Riley’s eyes as she obeyed, sinking onto the freshly swept floor. The stark contrast between the roughness of the floor and the smoothness of her shaven scalp only heightened her humiliation.
Emily swung her legs around and planted both feet in front of Riley. “There we go,” she cooed, wiggling her toes playfully. “Much better.” She crossed her legs, resting one foot firmly on Riley’s back, using her as a proper stool.
The weight pressed down, a physical reminder of how far she had fallen.
Vanessa let out a low chuckle. “It’s like she’s finally found her true purpose.”
Meanwhile, Brittany was finishing Liam’s styling with deliberate care, running her fingers through his soft rose-gold curls, ensuring they were set in perfectly round, bouncy ringlets. She stepped back, tilting her head in admiration.
“Oh, aren’t you just precious?” she gushed, clapping her hands together.
Liam swallowed hard, his heavily feminized reflection staring back at him with wide, teary eyes. His soft, dewy makeup enhanced his delicate features, making his appearance completely unrecognizable from the boy he once was.
Brittany picked up a thin white headband adorned with a small bow and placed it carefully over his curls. “There. Every princess needs her crown,” she teased.
Emily squealed in delight, standing from her seat to admire the final results. “Oh my god, he looks like a living doll!” she said, poking at his blushed cheeks.
Liam flinched but didn’t dare protest.
Vanessa smirked. “And let’s not forget—he’s also experiencing his first period.”
Emily let out a loud laugh, clapping her hands. “Right! That means he’s a real girl now.”
Dominique’s smile widened. “Now, one last thing before we go.”
She turned to Liam, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Since your dear brother was so lucky to receive your haircut, I think it’s only fair that you wear his clothes.”
Liam’s breath hitched. His already fragile composure shattered.
“No…” The word escaped his lips before he could stop it.
Dominique arched an eyebrow. “No?”
Liam froze. He never defied her. Ever. But the thought of trading his sister’s dainty outfit for Riley’s boyish clothes—clothes that no longer suited her newly shaved head—was unbearable.
Dominique’s smile didn’t falter, but her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
“Would you like to reconsider that answer, princess?”
Liam swallowed hard. His hands clenched into fists in his lap as he forced himself to shake his head.
“I-I mean… yes… I’ll… I’ll let her wear them…” His voice was barely above a whisper.
Vanessa smirked. “Smart boy.”
Liam remained seated, his rose-gold curls bouncing slightly with every nervous movement. Meanwhile, all eyes turned to Riley, who was still kneeling on the floor, completely bare under the harsh salon lights.
Eleanor smirked and gestured toward the corner of the room, where Liam’s former clothes—his real clothes—were neatly folded. The shirt, trousers, boxers, and slippers looked so plain, so normal… yet they now felt entirely out of place in this setting.
“Well?” Eleanor drawled. “Get dressed.”
Riley’s stomach clenched. Slowly, shakily, she crawled toward the discarded clothes, her movements stiff with humiliation. She reached out with trembling hands, picking up the simple button-up shirt, the trousers, the boxers that once belonged to Liam.
As she stood, she could feel the eyes on her—watching, judging.
Vanessa let out a low chuckle. “It’s funny, isn’t it? The way the roles have shifted.”
Brittany crossed her arms, smirking. “Oh, I’d say they’ve found their true selves.”
With a deep sense of dread, Riley slid the button-up shirt over her bare shoulders, the fabric rough against her skin. It felt wrong—not just because of the humiliation, but because the short buzzed stubble on her head made her feel completely exposed.
Next came the boxers—loose and foreign against her thighs—followed by the trousers, which felt stiff and unfamiliar. Finally, she slipped her feet into the simple slippers, the contrast between her newly smooth legs and the masculine footwear making her stomach turn.
When she was finally dressed, the contrast was even starker.
Riley, standing stiffly in Liam’s former clothes, looked utterly misplaced. The simple outfit did nothing to disguise the humiliation on her face, nor did it soften the sharp exposure of her freshly shaved head. She looked awkward, uncomfortable—like a girl who had been stripped of everything that once made her feminine.
Liam, meanwhile, remained perched on his heels, his tiny pink skirt barely covering his thighs, his rose-gold curls bouncing with every uncertain movement. The delicate shoes forced him to stand carefully, while the soft fabric of the shirt clung to him in a way that left no doubt—he was never meant to be wearing anything but this.
Dominique clapped her hands together. “Now, let’s not be rude,” she cooed. “What do we say before we leave?”
The salon went silent.
Both twins knew exactly what she wanted.
Riley, her face burning, bowed her head slightly. “Th-thank you…”
Liam’s voice trembled even more. “Th-thank you… for… making me a proper princess…”
Dominique beamed. “Louder.”
Both swallowed their remaining pride.
“Thank you for making me a proper princess!” Liam forced out, his voice cracking.
“Thank you for making me a proper boy,” Riley muttered.
Emily giggled. “Aww, they’re so polite now!”
With their final humiliation complete, Dominique turned to the stylists. “You ladies have outdone yourselves.”
Vanessa grinned. “Oh, it was our pleasure.”
Brittany gave Liam’s curls one final fluff. “I do hope you come back for touch-ups.”
Eleanor smirked. “And I expect good behavior, little boy.”
Dominique ushered her transformed stepchildren toward the door, their steps slow, hesitant. As they stepped outside, the salon door closing behind them, they could already feel the stares of the outside world.
The transformation was complete.
+11
