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Pucker Up By Jena Corso Edited by Angela Meyers Chapter 5 Never did he change so fast, as Bridget stuffed their clothes into the duffel bag and brought it with them back to the room. As expected, their mother was still passed out as Bridget quietly helped her brother scrub off his makeup in the bathroom, undo his pony and slide silently into bed. What he didn't expect in the morning was that at five thirty the alarm would be sounding and his mother would be waking him up while his sister got to sleep in. "Wake up sweetie." "Come on, jump in the shower and wash really good." "What time is it?" Paul asked, wiping the hair from his face "Early," said Kristen, pulling off the covers and handing him a series of bottles and a plastic hair cap. "Body wash, moisturize and don't wet your hair. It's a busy day." "Uuuuggg." Paul wandered into the shower with way more things than he was used to. The warm water felt good as he found himself oddly applying a fragrant body wash and then using his sister's facial products. This really wasn't that unexpected, knowing it would be another long pageant day, but the day started out with him applying the girly scents to himself. When he came out of the shower, his mother called him over and then proceeded to brush out his sticky hair. Even after a damn spritzing there were a few knots that she brushed through as he hated her raking through his hair. "Your hair is so cute and wavy, sleepy head," teased his mother, brushing as he could barely stop yawning. "Your hair holds a nice curl even after they flatten out. Did you sleep well?" "What do you think?" Paul replied, as since his hair had gotten long and longer she constantly nagged him about taking care of it. "I'm tired and do we have to start on the this girly stuff already." "Curb the attitude, please. I'm up early too," said his mother as she treated him more like she would have his sister a few years back, and before he could muster much of a fuss she had wound in a scrunchie near the back of his head. "But I'll cut you some slack because I know this is a lot for you." "Sorry," said Paul, knowing he had just been stupid, and felt bad as a little more brushing was followed by some quick twists and quickly she was finished. "Your outfit is on the bed," his mother told him as he reached back, grabbing hold of his wet pony as for some reason it just felt different. "Change and I'll bring you down." As his mother went into the bathroom to finish getting herself ready, he flipped his pony to his shoulder, noticing his wet pony had been French braided like she often did to his sister, and swung from a higher position than normal at the back of his head. It didn't matter anyway as he spotted the mint colored cotton panties and a matching training bra, which were the first items he put on as he got himself ready. There were no items to pull back his junk, so he next stepped into his white capri pants and then an emerald tunic. He soon realized the long top easily covered his private area and half his butt, so there'd be nothing on display and then he buckled the straps of his little white sandals. He turned, looking into the mirror, seeing the white bow tie that sat daintily above his French braid, and then his mother came in, handing him a small white purse as out the door they went. She took his hand with a proud smile as they walked together and then down the elevator they went. There was barely a soul in sight as they wandered through the lobby, seeing only some adults getting coffee and then stopped by the small lobby caf?. He sat with his mother having a fat free muffin as mother and 'daughter', sharing a quiet moment and then it was quickly back to work. When they arrived at Lilian's private room, the group was already awaiting him as they entered and he was instantly greeted with hugs. "Good morning, sunshine," said Lillian, happy to see them on time. "Hi," mumbled Paul. "She looks cute with a braid," said Danielle, hugging him and flipping it. "Doesn't she?" said his mother with some pride. "It took me a minute as it's been a while since I did one on Bridget. She's at that pain in the ass age now, but after a minute or two it comes back to you." "Like riding a bike Kristen, and the bow is so darling," said Danielle. "I love her looking so adorable." "I've got to enjoy it while it lasts," giggled Kristen, rubbing Paul's back. "She's a mama's girl. Right, honey?" "Of course I am," said Paul, rolling his eyes as they all cracked up. "Yes, of course you are! Now sit sweetie, as we have a lot to talk about," Lillian flipped through some pages on her clipboard. "You sleep well?" "I guess?" Paul wondered what she was getting at. "Oh we were all out right after the pajama party," said Kristen as Roberto handed her a coffee. "He's used to getting up early anyway, as they practice hockey at all these weird times when they can get ice time." "Good, because I know we got you up early, but we have to learn your routine," said Lillian. "But I know the routine," said Paul, giving her a look and twisting his neck. "I nailed that easy thing yesterday, and a moron could do it. There are X's on the floor?" "Yes you did well, but you have watched your sister's past contests, right?" said Lillian a little miffed. "There's no big dresses today, princess. You're up early so we can coach you for your stage interview, rehearse tonight's speech and learn the routine we've worked half the night on for the talent contest." "Talent contest?" gulped Paul. "I can't dance like my sister. I can't dance at all!" "Lillian, I know my mother sewed a gorgeous dance costume, but he's never danced a day in his life," said his mother. "Yes she really did, but who said anything about Miss Paula dancing?" Lillian told them. "Ginger, show her how beautiful the dance costume looks after you altered it." "Wow, I love the little skirt you added, and all the bling but he still can't dance," said Kristen as Ginger held up the costume. "Oh Miss Paula won't be exactly dancing in that, and right now we'll get her in her practice leotard. Hands up, doll," said Roberto, coming over and pulling off his top. "Oh thank goodness!" said Paul as Roberto quickly helped him out of his shoes and pants. "Wait, but what am I doing here then?" "Getting ready!" said Roberto as down went his panties. "And its no time to be shy?" "Practicing the routine, honey," said Lillian, as quickly he was being tucked in a thing gaff. "But you said no dancing? Paul whined as Roberto rolled some tights up his legs and then snapped the waistband. "Yes, but we all watched some tapes of him zig zagging everywhere playing hockey last night," said Ginger as Roberto had him step into a fuchsia leotard and slid it up his body. "What he can do and do really well, is skate." "But there's no ice?" said Kristen as Paul soon found his arms inside the tight stretchy sleeves. "Don't worry, none necessary." Lillian smiled, opening a box of roller skates. "I'm sure it'll be even easier in these than on ice." "Huumm?" Questioned Kristen, nodding. "I've never even seen anyone do a routine on skates in these contests, and that actually could be really different?" "Exactly!" said Lillian, unrolling some socks and sliding them over his feet. "And very interesting to the judges. Judges like things that are different. You know that." "But I don't know this type of skating?" said Paul as suddenly he was being laced up in girly white roller skates. "I mean I have played roller hockey, but not in a while?" "And you won't be playing hockey in them, anyway," said Lillian, showing him a script and a chart. "This isn't a silly girl's hockey game or any game Paula. We scripted some spins, moves and twists, that based on your obvious skating talents I witnessed on tape that you'll easily handle." "You mean like a figure skater?" asked Paul, baffled and looking down at himself realizing what was happening. "Except on roller skates, since we have no ice," said Ginger. "And I'll be dressed in this little body suit!" Paul touched his crotch, amazed at how flat it seemed. "No, this is just for practice and for us to critique and correct every little movement honey," said Danielle. "In the meantime, Ginger's still jazzing up your pageant costume, but I think we all are pretty sure you'll be adorable in it." He had barely lasted twenty minutes in the morning's outfit as he found himself in a form fitting, long sleeved bright pink leotard that clung to his body like a second skin. Beneath it his legs were covered in white tights and on his feet were girl's white roller skates. "I can see her having grace, style, charisma," said Lillian. "Danielle was a skater when she was young, and she thinks it'll translate beautifully." "But I don't spin?" Paul stuttered. "I just....." "Don't worry! You'll do wonderful, and that's why you're up so early as we'll have the stage to ourselves in a private setting," said Danielle, strapping on his roller skates. "You'll be doing Axles, coctaws and twizzles in no time. I'll be teaching you." "Great?" said Paul sarcastically as suddenly he found himself hand in hand with Danielle as they skated down the hall to the stage. Before he could give it too much thought, there he was now practicing rotating on one foot and then getting the hang of balancing with one leg extended both forward and back as he skated and spun. He had done plenty of roller skating and played plenty of roller hockey, but never had he worked on arm positioning, spins or landing a jump that wasn't just hopping over a defensemen. Now though, this was exactly what he was not learning to do and in no time it began coming easy to him. He understood the elements of hydroblading and lunging as an advanced skater, but certainly not in the context of being graceful or acting ultra-feminine. Even being an elite skater on ice, It took a good two hours to nail all the moves and then an hour or so to make them work inside a routine. By the seventh try, he had mastered the two and a half minute routine and they had gotten it in tune with the music. It would still be hours away from performing for the judges, yet he'd soon be performing a routine quite different than the other girls in the pageant. Either way, they drilled him that he'd need to be on point against girls with all kinds of dance or gymnastics experience. He was almost happy to sit down in the makeup chair back in his robe as they put on his face for the next round, except now his focus would be turning away from that of a physical performer, as they prepped him to be interviewed. "So while we do your makeup, it's a good time to get ready for your little interview, honey," said Lillian as they quickly helped him undress and get in his robe. "I hope they don't ask me too much," said Paul as they began applying his foundation. "What could they ask me, really?" "Well, quite a bit actually but you'll do just fine," said Lillian as Marcy was smoothing out his complexion. "There's like only a hundred questions they can ask you, and fifty of them have the same answer." "What about the other fifty?" gulped Paul as Marcy sponged his face. "We'll narrow down everything for you, honey," said Lillian as they worked under his eyes. "Trust me, when we're done grilling you, you'll be as charming as any of the stuck up debutants that are here, and half of them aren't as pretty as you are even without a stich of makeup!" Just her saying that was enough to get his ire up, as Marcy closed his eyes and began working on his lids. "Please make it very narrow," whined Paul as they began double teaming him now as Danielle brushed through his hair. "I don't know how girls answer stuff." "Honey, many of them are just common sense?" replied Lillian, looking at her note pad as they brushed at his cheeks. "Like who is the biggest influence in your life... so of course your mother, and like why should you be the next title holder.. use the because you feel you are a wonderful role model answer that we can use many times! We'll rehearse that one a lot." "OK but what about the not so common sense ones?" Paul asked, being powdered and blended. "Well, I'd expect things like... What would your response be to a person who believes that pageants aren't a good influence for young women?" said Lillian as they worked, flat ironing his hair from behind. "Or what makes you unique compared to all of the other contestants in this competition?" "Yeah well obviously that one we can't answer honestly," Paul joked, breaking the tension as everyone cracked up. "See, you're a natural, sweetie!" smiled Lillian as they worked on his lips now. "But they'll be plenty of easy ones that you can answer, about social media, the environment, education, etc. You just follow my lead as I teach you, be politically correct and you'll be fine. You're a smart girl." "Thanks, I think," said Paul trying to focus on her every word now. For the next forty five minutes, he listened intently as she grilled and tested him on question after question. He was getting a crash course on being a confident yet not cocky young lady, as he learned to weave in things from his real life while putting them in a feminine context. As each question became engrained in his mind, he was being dressed, primped and polished for his interview. When he finally got up from his seat, he felt confident he knew most of the answers, yet was still extremely worried about being questioned. It was quite a change seeing himself dressed so scholarly instead of glam- like, looking almost ready for his first day in prep school, in the tapered suit designed for his sister. On top the light grey short blazer was tightly buttoned, only serving to accentuate a pinched thin waistline. A tiny pink trim framed the edges of the lapels, and beneath the blazer the blush pink silk blouse shined. Atop the blouse at his neck was an attached silk large bow that had been looped in a glorious fashion and sat daintily atop his chest. Beneath the waistline, his thighs were beneath a black thinly pleated skirt that hemmed just at the knee, and then the rest of his legs were exposed in nude hose. For the first time he was in more conservative, grey 3 inch closed toe pumps that perfectly matched his blazer, and his shoulder strap Coach pocketbook. His face almost appeared more natural than ever before, with just fluttery long lashes and no apparent liner. On his lids, a hint of charcoal grey on the edges was easily distinguished from the soft pinks that delicately coated his lids and his apple rouge drew attention to his defined cheek bones. A matte salmon pink finish to his lips gave them a full yet natural appearance, and for the first time they had flat ironed his hair pin straight. He stood taking in his image as the preppy young lady while Danielle constantly brushed his hair back off his face and then in went a thin grey headband. "Chin up and face straight ahead, Paula." Marcy brushed and flat ironed a few more times across his back. "Please, Lillian. She looks flawless, but the shape I can't hide when it's straightened. Either I have to fix it or it has to go up in a pony and I could braid it like this morning." "Although that was adorable on her, we need her to look more mature and sophisticated," said Lillian, not liking the idea and sliding some faux glasses on him. "Maybe this will help?" "Maybe, but with all eyes on her and without stage lights or other candidates, the judges will pick up even the slightest imperfection," said Marcy, holding out some of the uneven ends between her fingers. "We might lose some points here for no reason over a silly superstition." "Fine! Just the dead ends and hush, please," said Lillian, rolling her eyes and stepping in front of Paul to distract him. "So you're going to do well sweetie. Just smile and answer with confidence." "I'll try but... what was that?" asked Paul, stopping mid-sentence. "You didn't?" "We did nothing, love," said Lillian, stopping him from spinning around as the glasses flew off his face. "I will freak out if you just did what I thought I heard!" cried Paul, hearing more snipping. "Of course you won't, or you'll find yourself with a bangs and a cute short layered hairdo that the judges would love," said Lillian, right in his face, sliding the glasses back on. "Trust me, I could make you more of a princess than you could even imagine." "Please no!" Paul protested. "But you promised no cutting!" "And I'm keeping my word for as long as you keep yours, competing hard! Now we're cutting nothing, but without a head full of curls I can't hide those disastrous split ends anymore," Lectured Lillian. "There's no cutting really, but instead just the minutest little trim, understood? Show her please, Marcy." "Yup just a sec! Stand tall, princess," said Marcy, furiously brushing through his hair behind his back and then he heard a series of trimming, once again feeling the sheers slide across his back from side to side. "See it's nothing!" "I guess, but none of the other kids on my team are even doing that?" Paul stated, seeing the tiniest trimmings in her hand as she showed it to him. "Of course they are," said Lillian as Danielle changed his earrings to pearls. "Their mothers are just not telling them just like yours never told you." "She's trimmed my hair without me knowing?" sighed Paul, spinning back his neck and looking at his back's reflection. "It's never been this straight across like this." "Oh you just never had any reason to notice before, because of course you've never been dressed up so pretty or had your hair straightened," said Lillian as Paul reached his arm back behind his back, amazed at how precisely straight across his hair looked as he pulled at it. "Or have you?" "You know I haven't," Paul replied, stunned yet intrigued that she could be right as with his hair flat ironed, it had never looked so naturally long. "Of course we all do, sweetie," said Lillian sarcastically, taking his hand. "It's just surprising that a girl of your natural beauty has been discovered so late, even if you were stuck as some dreadful little puck head. Now come. We mustn't be late for the panel and you're ready." Just her comments were infuriating as Marcy dowsed the back of his head in a high shine hairspray, and off they went down the hall. He was dressed as a young lady looking ready to interview for a high school committee or her first job, yet instead he was about to be grilled as a debutant, not a scholar. When he went inside, it was like he was sitting in the electric chair as he sat at an open desk with his fingers folded into each other and his legs crossed, staring up at the judges as they opened their note books. "Please stand, state your name and pageant credentials for the camera and then we'll proceed, Miss Carbonelli," said the man, switching on the camera. "Yes sir," said Paul nervously, taking a deep breath but having rehearsed it many times. "Paula Anne Carbonelli, contestant 388. I'm competing in the Junior Teen category." "Thank you Miss Carbonelli, please walk across the room and then towards us so we may evaluate your style and posture, please," said another Judge. "Please treat the room as you would the stage for a moment, and then walk to the podium when finished." Paul already knew the stage drill, walking to each station as gracefully as he could before posing and moving on. He made soft eye contact, smiling as he could see the judges making notes of his outfit, makeup and hair. In the glass windows, it was impossible not to notice how perfect his hair sat across his back as he turned, putting his hand on his hip. He doubted his mother could have ever trimmed it so precisely while he slept, but either way it still seemed as long as ever as his muscle memory had taken over, strutting to the next postion. With the interview setting being so focused on just him alone without the distraction of others, he quickly understood why Lillian wouldn't allow him to be presented without his face looking flawless, being perfectly coiffed or his outfit being pristine, There would be no kisses or waves, just poses and soft smiles as this little stroll actually helped him feel more comfortable as he stopped, tapping his nails against the wood on the podium, ready to be questioned. "Thank you Miss Carbonelli," said a judge. "I assume that noise means you are ready and slightly anxious to proceed?" "Yes sir," replied Paul, standing tall and suddenly realizing the nervous nail tapping resounded over the mic. "Wonderful, but just relax, Miss Carbonelli," grinned the first judge. "So Paula, please start with what is your biggest fear?" "Oh, well my biggest fear is not reaching my goals when I know I can," said Paul, almost stunned at how easily it rolled off his tongue. "As a young developing woman, I've set many goals that I intend to achieve." "Wonderful answer, Miss Carbonelli," said the judge. "So why do you think beauty pageants are important in today's world?" "Well, beauty pageants have given young women like me a platform to acknowledge not just our beauty but our knowledge, talent and skills in front of the world," said Paul with confidence. "It is an opportunity to seek the best in yourself." "I see that you're well-grounded, Miss Carbonelli," said the judge. "In my opinion that's a wonderful quality for a young lady with your physical attributes. So three down and only forty seven to go, Miss Carbonelli. Let's hope you do as well with the rest because knowing your coach, I'm sure she expects you in the finals." "I'll do my best not to disappoint." Paul smiled confidently. "I bet you will, Miss Carbonelli," said one of the other judges. "But even if you don't end up with a crown, the consolation prize is that I've got a cute fourteen year old boy at home, and we can start planning the wedding for both of you" As the judges chuckled, creating a light moment, Paul was much less amazed at the thought of being hitched to any zit faced wise ass boy, as he forced a fake smile to his face and sat ready for the next question. "Oh how wonderful, but I hope to attend college and start helping to change the world first before I start planning my wedding," said Paul, playing along, covering his heart. "There are just so many people in need, and I of course hope to make even the tiniest little difference." "What a good head on your shoulders you have Paula Anne, and of course well coached I see," the judge stated. "I'll hold off on you dating him until next weekend, and now let's get back to business please, young lady." "Of course," said Paul, taking a deep breath. Question after question peppered him now and he did his best, answering with passion yet humility. With each answer he grew more comfortable, realizing it was mostly common sense, and by the end he was completely confident he did well. It was as big a relief as any when finally they finished and he gracefully thanked them and exited the room. When he got outside the room, Marcy was waiting and quickly they whisked him back to change for his routine. "Incredible?" said a voice as she spun around the second he got back in the dressing area. "Hi grandma," gulped Paul, instantly recognizing the tone as he felt emotional as she quickly embraced him. "Unbelievable how beautiful he looks, Kristen?" said his grandmother, staring him up and down and checking the garment. "From the pictures I saw of him in my gown and how perfectly this fits, I obviously did mix up everything. I'm so so sorry sweetie. I hope you'll forgive me." "Of course "SHE" will mom! Mind your words, as we need to be careful in public," said his mother, scolding her mother slightly. "She's doing this for her sister, and it's crazy how well your granddaughter is doing already." "Sorry, I'll be mindful moving forward dear, and it's not crazy she's an amazing young person," said his grandmother, squeezing Paul's hand. "Well things happen for a reason honey. You know I always tell you that." "Not for this reason!" whined Paul. "Well someone had to wear my creations, so better it was family even if it was you, sweetie," said his grandmother, touching his face. "I'd be sick after all the work I put into them if they went to waste, so just keep doing your best and I'll be watching from the audience. I have to get back and finish more outfits for your sister now, but I'll be back out there to cheer you on in your routine. Ok, my precious? We're so proud of you." "Sure, whatever you want, grandma," said Paul as his grandmother hugged him and then his mother noticed his hair on his back. "Lill--" his mother started to say, catching herself as she paused, giving her a look as she covered her mouth. "Yes, we're all so proud of her and she is so precious, isn't she?" said Lillian, changing the subject, glaring back at Kristen. "And she's been wonderfully cooperative in case you were worried. We've asked a little more of her recently, and she's been on board to do whatever we've asked in order to compete." "Has she?" said Kristen, looking at Lillian sternly, half pointing her finger at her. "Yes mom," said Paul, thinking she was directing it at him. "I' really have! I'm trying the best I can?" "I know. We're so proud of you, honey," replied his mother, looking at him with glassy eyes again and then hugging him herself. "Now I have to go help your grandmother, and if you want I'll send down your grandfather to stay with you backstage." "Please no," said Paul, waving his hands. "Last thing I need is him telling me to be tough in a dress." "Yes, definitely not," Laughed his mother as they all had a nice quick giggle. "Better to leave the old grouch upstairs." "Then we'll work in your room Kristen, or he'll drive us crazy too," said his grandmother. "So good luck sweetie, and I'm dying to see how they redid your sister's dance outfit i sewed her. Plus, I heard you killed the performance during practice." "They said that?" asked Paul, surprised. "Yes, now break a leg and we'll see you in two hours," said his grandmother. "Yes grandma," Nodded Paul, completely taken back at how supportive his grandmother was the entire time. As his family left, he had a little time to chill now as they helped him back into his bathrobe and then spent time walking through his routine. He practiced over and over without skates in his bare feet as they simulated each step and each move. A few breaks for a light lunch and some water actually felt wonderful, and then they were back to work pumping up the volume on his makeup. Heavy blush, more vibrant eye shadows and long glittery lashes were a slow but meticulous process, as they readied his face to pop from under the effects of the illustrious light show he would be performing under. After lining his waterlines and defining he face, he looked more like a cosmetics counter had exploded on him and they then they turned to his hair, the long straight style was being transformed again as within seconds Marcy had brushed his hair forward into his face. "Ok this will be a little weird for a minute, and just keep your hands out so we can paint those nails," said Marcy, pushing his head forward. "Head all the way forward towards your lap, and stay that way until I tell you otherwise." "I'm already used to weird," said Paul, rolling his eyes as he pulled his head towards his lap. She started now brushing everything from the nape forwards as he sat awkwardly with his chin pushed into his chest. It was no stranger though than anything else, as he felt her divide his hair at the nape into three small sections and then felt the side strands being pulled under the middle, knowing she was beginning to braid. Strand after strand crossed under each other over and over, as he felt his hair tightening as it weaved its way up the back of his neck while she oddly braided him while upside down. When finally he had felt every strand behind his head tightly bound, she stopped just at the top of ear level and allowed him to sit back up and slipped in some pins. He was almost dizzy from the blood rushing top his head as she steadied him, looking forward as all his long hair sat forward into his eyes. She didn't hesitate for a moment, pulling the top and sides into a high ponytail just like his sister had done yesterday as she brushed endlessly while gathering it into her palm. It was no different having her slip a simple brunette colored hair band from her wrist and then wind it over and over until it was tight. With her comb now, he felt the pinch and tension as she pulled out a long half inch wide thick strand near his right ear and let the isolated section flop down oddly against his cheek. One more time she tugged at the scrunchie, now twisting it over before sliding through the main pony as it quickly became extremely tight. From her table, he watched her take a large round foam looking item and then suddenly he realized it stretched open as she pushed her fingers through the middle of it and slid his pony inside it. He had seen his mother use these bun makers on his sister, never thinking he'd ever be in one himself, yet now she was like a magician, making it quickly disappear as it fanned out his pony all the way around. She took a minute combing it out evenly, and then stretched the section she had intentionally left out. Like a seamstress, she again began braiding as she weaved a 3 strand dutch braid with the fallen out hair from the bun and the long strand she left out to the side. Quickly, she braided all the way around the bun and then in went a few pins in the back, securing it. It was amazing how rapidly she could spin his hair as she took a tiny clear elastic band from her wrist, pulling it down over the top of the bun as it pulled in everything tightly creating the huge puffy mushroom atop his head. With the braids and bun in place, she now gelled the sides and saturated his head in cement like hairspray. A second glitter spray followed while his head was still tacky, and then he was almost blinded by the bright palette of lip colors she opened. A darker mauve pencil now ever so carefully over lined his smile, and then she dipped her lip brush in a hot pink color. His legs were tingling now as she finished the gloss as he saw Roberto approach him with a roll of silver duct tape. "Here, you wrap it yourself and then I'll just do the securing. Ok?" Roberto handed him a few sheets of toilet paper. All Paul could do was nod as they slid off his robe and he wrapped his member himself. "Whewwww," sighed Paul, skipping a breath as Roberto quickly wrapped him and then pulled it back tightly. A few gulps and then a thin piece of tape secured him tightly as it stopped inside his butt cheeks just for insurance, as Roberto made sure he was completely smooth. "Sorry, didn't mean to take your breath away honey, but in this with all the moves we needed a little extra support," said Roberto, rolling up his tights and holding them for him to step into. "I know, but that you did," smirked Paul, amazed at how flat he looked down there as Roberto tugged up the thin control top. "Well that is the idea, Miss Paula," said Lillian as Danielle came over with his outfit. "In this and with your skating ability, you'll be taking everyone's breath away." "No doubt, and I'm so excited to see her in this!" said Ginger as she took the shimmery outfit from its hanger. It only was but a second until Roberto looped Paul's arms through a stretchy nude bra which had small inserts already sewn in. Once they snapped it securely, Ginger lifted his left leg and he stepped into his costume. Hours and hours of preparation and practice were now completely behind them as she slid his arms inside the stretchy outfit and straightened the fit. They kept him standing as he stepped into each skate while holding Roberto's shoulder, and then laced him up until each foot was securely fitted. "I feel like I'm at one of my sister's dance recitals," Moaned Paul, looking down as they brushed a little body glitter to his neck and added just a touch more powder to his face. "That's a good way to think about it Paula, except this is yours and you're about to have to solo," said Lillian, softly padding his back. "You would make one beautiful ballerina if ever you hang up your skates." "Fantastic?" Paul replied sarcastically. "Let's just get this over with, and I think I'll stick with skating." "Four minutes until next backstage," said Lillian, hearing the que in her headset. "Yup just about there. Eyes closed, pretty girl," said Marcy, adding more glitter to his lids before hitting his head with hairspray one last time and pushing at his bun. He bowed his head, closing his eyes as the dryer's warm air softly set any tacky spray and help bond the glitter. When finally he opened his eyes, the entire group stared at him smiling as he gingerly rocked back and forth on his wheels. "Ok spin and skate across the room one last time, but I think you're good to go," said Marcy nodding. Like it or not, he knew she was right as he skated and spun with ease, seeing nothing but a few tiny glittery fakes flutter through the air. When he skated across the room stopping to see his reflection, it was a far cry from any other he had ever seen of himself on skates or even in a dress. "Honey, don't panic. What you see in day light won't be exactly what the audience sees," said Lillian, flicking off the lights for a moment. "You'll be under strobes and black lights and lasers. It'll be spectacular, and your features will pop." Suddenly with the main light off, he couldn't believe the difference, as it was like his features and costume came to life. Instead of looking like the department store counter cosmetics girl overly done to push products, he saw the ultra-feminine performer, ready to dazzle her audience. It took a moment just to try to look past his hot pink lips and finger nails that seemed almost neon pink in the darkness, as even his teeth seemed to glow between them. It was absolutely amazing how the glittery lashes illuminated above his lids, which now sparkled in every direction from the glittery eye shadow that was scattered across them. That bit of sparkle was nothing though, compared to the glitter that had been added to his hair, as his slicked back style and bun twinkled in every direction, like it was almost electrified. From ear to ear his hair had ben slicked back tightly before mushrooming out into a large delicate bun. Beneath it an amazing lace braid dressed it up, so daintily encircling the bun entirety all the way around. From behind, it conveyed the illusion of weaving from the bun into a tight dutch braid like a zipper down the back of his head. He understood now why he sat forward having this Upside down braid being weaved towards his eventual bun, yet watching himself sparkle endlessly with such an impeccable style was still a lot to take in. On the right of his bun pinned to the lace braid, a simple silver glittery bow only added another level of glitz as it sat preciously decorated in silver sequins. That little touch though was just the appetizer for his entire costume, as his sisters silver long sleeve glittery bodysuit had been transformed from a simple dance outfit to something much more exotic. Metallic and hot pink tiny feathers now trimmed the cuffs of his sleeves, edges of the high hip line and faux bust line as he could see them slightly waver with every little move. Silver sequins and metallic embellishments in a high shine glitter across the waist and neckline only aided to his whimsical look, and it was hard not to notice how they seemed to be only aid in giving him a shapelier look. On his legs were silver glittery tights and they had now sprayed his skates to be a shiny metallic and added hot pink laces. In his ears, hot pink feather earrings fluttered from his second hole, and when Lillian switched the light back on he knew it was time. "You are the awkward little duckling that has blossomed into a graceful and beautiful swan, Paula," said Lillian, looking into his eyes as she grabbed him by both shoulder. "Now go do what you do best and dazzle us with your skating. We both know that should be the easiest part of all of this for you, right?" "I would think so," said Paul, embarrassed he'd be drawing attention like this. "Remember, grandma is watching and she expects the best from you," said Lillian... smacking his ass softly as she opened the door. She was right that skating even on wheels instead of blades would be the easiest part of his weekend, even if performing solo to a crowd would be a harder than just walking and waving in a dress. He was only nervous that he'd forget a step rather than miss a jump or spin, as he stepped onto the stage and up went the curtain. Across stretching his arm and lifting one leg he glanced down, frequently amazed at how flat his crotch had become. With no bump or bulge, he elegantly moved his arms with femininity and elegance, not worried about hiding a thing as he glided on one foot and then quickly turned into his first spin. It took only ten seconds for him to forget any trepidation he may have had, as his routine was already engrained in his mind. For the first time this weekend, he was doing what actually came naturally to him as he turned and executed his first jump flawlessly. Immediately the crowd stood, applauding the acrobatic move and it only motivated him more as he was lost in his own performance. He lifted his foot during his next camel spin, creating a doughnut effect as he showed off his incredible flexibility. Back to back jumps and then a broken leg spin did nothing to quiet the crowd as they relished every moment, and so did he. When he leaned back, skating backwards with his leg extended into a layover layback move, he was exuding a style and refinement even he wasn't sure he could pull off, yet in some strange way it seemed second nature. The final death spin with his leg straight out ever so precisely morphed into an elegant sit spin as he got as low as he could, and then brought it back up before exhaling with his arms flying up in the most ladylike fashion he could muster. When he stopped he was completely gassed, panting just a bit as he looked out seeing his grandmother and mother in tears. He took a moment to catch his breath and then began to skate, picking up the stems of each flower that were hurled towards him while he waved. He took a moment, waving and blowing some thank you kisses and then felt ready to shit his pants, noticing his grandfather look towards him, seemingly horrified and stunned. Emotion overcame Paul now as he couldn't fight back the tears, embarrassed at what he had just done. His grandfather was his biggest rooter in hockey, and where he had inherited all his game and skating abilities. Yet the look on his grandfather's face sent a message to his mind that he had just misused everything he had taught him. All he could think was that his grandfather's lectures about driving to the net as a tenacious scorer were forgotten, as instead he used his speed and balance to spin like a delicate ballerina. Even the elements of toughness that were engrained had in some strange way caused him to become a weepy mess, as his crying provoked deafening screams and louder applause from the audience of mostly women that couldn't have loved his performance more. "Unbelievable, Paula," screamed Marcy, jumping up and down as she and Danielle practically mugged him as he got off stage. "Thanks," gulped Paul as Danielle tried drying his eyes, but tears just kept flowing. "Please, can I go change and wash my face?" "Of course," said Marcy, hugging him one last time. "We need to wash your hair and get all this glitter out and redo your face for later anyway." He wanted to crawl under a rock when he turned into their dressing room, seeing his mother, sister, and grandparents awaiting him. Somehow he was now that stupid girl balling endlessly while the three women couldn't control their enthusiasm, hugging and kissing him. He was emotionally wiped as he sat down as they undid his skates and then his grandfather turned his back as they stripped him from his outfit. Back in his bathrobe a moment later and stepping into some basic white cotton panties, he knew he was still taped back, yet it would have been even more embarrassing having his little manhood fly free in front of all the women. He had no idea what to say as the girls babbled endlessly about every step and every gesture as Lillian embarrassed him, explaining how seamlessly Paul had adapted to every step while Marcy reclined his chair. "I can't stop telling Paula that's she's so natural," said Lillian, actually complimenting him as she let her difficult guard down for a moment. "And beyond that, I've never had a first time contestant actually have a chance to the get to the finals. With that performance, unless she falls on her face later, she's got a great chance." "I know! I'm so proud of my sister!" Bridget said emotionally as Marcy scrubbed at his face. "We all are," said his grandmother, as Danielle undid his bun and they dropped his hair into the sink. "Now let's finish getting you ready to go on, and I can't wait to see you this evening my love." In a way it was nice to be so adored as they squeezed and hugged him before leaving as he just lay back, having his hair washed and his face cleansed. All that was left for the night was reciting his pre-written speech about why he should win, and then he could pass out for the evening after having gotten up early and working so hard. In a way he was proud he could pull off the routine, yet he couldn't even look at his grandfather, as he barely said two words to him. The rest would almost feel normal now, as after they conditioned his hair, Marcy elevated his chair and he sat quietly while she brushed through it. For the first time though, he'd be getting it set in these big rollers as she started at the back, pinning most of his hair up in clips. Section by section, large open plastic green curlers were rolled under and pinned in place until his entire head was encircled before a hairnet was pinned in place. He was sitting now as he had seen his grandmother sit so many times on a Sunday morning, turning the pasta in her rollered head as Marcy started his on his face. There'd be nothing out of the ordinary about being airbrushed or having thick lashes glued on, as he sat opening and closing his eyes on command. When finally his makeup was done, he's sit under the dryer having his set baked in, which actually felt nice at first until he realized being seated under the bonnet that he was pointed the opposite direction of the makeup chair and now looking across the room. Just a flinch from his nerves banged his curlers against the hood of the bonnet dryer as he panicked, realizing his grandfather had been there the whole time. If this weekend wasn't belittling enough, he looked over seeing him quietly reading his newspaper the entire time, realizing he had sat with his back to him, quietly being set and made up. He wished he could pull the dyer hood over his head entirely as he was stuck staring at the tough bicep tattoo of a hockey puck and stick peek out from the short sleeve of his grandfather's t-shirt while his supposed tough little grandson was stuck under the warm circulating air. Still in great shape for his age, his grandfather flexed his arm, turning the page, curling his bicep while in contrast his grandson was experiencing a curl of a different nature, instead having them baked onto his head. There was nothing he could do, wanting to get up and run, but at this point it didn't matter anyway as Danielle sat down in front of him, taking his left hand placing it on the table before shaking a bottle of nail polish. Painting over every finger for the second time today and then even his toes, he sat having his nails redone, trying not to think about his grandfather's apparent disgust. Another few hours and one last day and this would all be over he thought as he endless glanced over while his grandfather barely peeked his way. As the dryer rotated from hot to cool air, his fingers had rotated from their more natural French look to hot pink earlier to a soft opal blue. When finally the dyer clicked off, he could see his granfather glance over expressionlessly, disturbed from his reading by the little ding and then turning back down to his article as the bonnet was lifted. Paul sat ever so quietly while his curlers cooled down, self-consciously looking over until he was placed back in the salon chair and turned away, unable to see his reaction. Being powdered and having his lips done, couldn't happen fast enough now as he was happy not to be looking at him while being further dolled up. When the hairnet came off, the sound of each roller crackled, being tossed in the bin almost sounded like firecrackers. He could never live this down he thought as he tried to think about anything but being pretty, and then the silence was interrupted as Lillian stepped in. "So let's practice your speech, Paula," said Lillian, stepping in now as Marcy started picking through his hair. "It'll be right in front of you on the teleprompter, but better you know as much of it as you can." "No, it's fine," Paul replied as Marcy began brushing out small sections of his hair. "Please let me rest my eyes. I'm tired and I'll just read it no problem." "But what if somethings doesn't feel natural honey," said Lillian as Marcy was teasing a little. "This is our last chance to make a few adjustments." "You're not going to be the difficult type of little girl, are you granddaughter?" said his grandfather, walking over and interrupting. "Do what your coach says." "Please don't call me that," said Paul, dying inside as Marcy was pulling through his hair with her thin iron and twisting it from behind. "Answer my question then, please," said his grandfather sternly. "No, of course not grandpa," gulped Paul as Lillian softly grabbed his grandfather's forearm, comforting him. "Good, because you were never a disrespectful brat before, even when you could have been so now that you're ..." Paused his grandfather, finding his words. "Well let's just say this new side of you that's just come out, so I don't expect some stuck up little diva. Do I make myself clear on that?" "Yes grandpa," answered Paul, ever so softly unable to look at him. "They get sensitive being called little girls sometimes at this age, especially with all that Paula Anne has gone through. Trying to be Miss Junior Teen is a big step for them, and don't worry she's a doll to work with, sir," said Lillian, diffusing the situation. "Why don't you go take your seat in the audience Mr. Prieto, and then you'll get to enjoy both your beautiful granddaughters on stage very shortly." His grandfather grumbled a little now and left as Paul breathed a sigh of relief as Marcy finished up his hair. He was almost numb to everything at this point as Roberto returned, helping him change to a baby blue panty and then a matching bra. After silky sheer hose and some basic inserts gave him some cute little A-cups, he stepped into his dress and was quickly zipped up. "Just read this one last time while you get your heels on," lectured Lillian, holding her ipad in his face as he held her shoulder, as he stepped into his first shoe. "Ok, its fine," grumbled Paul, skimming and rolling his eyes. "Please just make sure he's not in my line of sight, or I'll freak out. I can't take how he looked at me." "If you're talking about your grandfather, he looked at you with pride, honey," said his mother, walking in. "He told me you looked stressed, so I came back here to check on you. Are you good or what, because all the hard parts are over now?" "He said that?" mumbled Paul, feeling guilty as they were putting on his earrings. "Yup and more, but we'll save that for later," said his mother as he held out his wrist for his bracelet. "He didn't want to leave you, but knew you felt uncomfortable." "Oh, I feel bad now," sighed Paul as a watch went on the other side. "But wow! That's awesome." "And so is the lovely Miss Paula Anne Prieto Carbonelli. He and grandma are so proud that you're using their name," said Kristen, hugging him. "Now go finish off the night with a bang before you make me get emotional again, because I'm just about out of waterproof makeup, and I can't even believe I have any tears left in my tear ducts." "Of course mom," said Paul, relaxing for a moment with a chuckle. "Good girl, and you look beautiful, honey," said his mother, air kissing cheeks so she woudn't get lipstick on him. "Now let me run out and get my seat." As his mother left, he knew it was time as he oddly felt pressure not to let down his grandparents now. He looked down, lifting his wrist, staring as his opal nails, amazed at how well they matched with his soft blue dress and noticed tiny rhinestones that had been added. When he extended his wrist further, he could see that his toes reflected the same color as he wiggled them, as they stood out in his completely open toed shoes. For whatever reason, he felt flirty and glamorous in the soft, light weight dress, as with every step he loved the feel of it. It was not overly extravagant or constraining. Two steps and then a quick turn towards the mirror and suddenly he was admiring himself as a young teen, looking so innocent yet so refined. He was in a opal blue halter high low dress, made of the softest chiffon. The flirty dress was simple without any embroidery, tying behind his neck in halter style on top, completely exposing his arms and upper back. It was so light it almost felt like he was wearing nothing, as it delicately clung to his frame, pinching in at the waistline before flowing down into a tight skirt. In front, the skirt completely exposed his bare legs, hemming two inches above the knees before angling down behind each thigh in a more sheer chiffon sheath overskirt, almost reaching his ankles. On his feet, his 4 ? inch spikey shoes were a matching opal, yet completely open with only a single toe band across the bottom and an adjustable ankle strap holding in his feet. Above his left ankle, a sparkling silver ankle bracelet added some delicacy and matched wonderfully to the thin silver faceless watch on his left wrist. On the right side, a silver charm bracelet decorated his wrist and around his neck sat a small silver locket on an almost invisible chain. With the theme of his evening look being such a soft blue, hints of opal decorated the outside of his lids before blending into a blushing pink. Some touches of an aqua pencil drew attention to his eyes, as they were lined on half of the upper and lower eye's edges before blending into a thin black liner at the outer creases. The subtle touch of royal blue liner thinly on his upper lids behind his thick fanned out fauz lashes only electrified his eyes and a high gloss cotton candy pink drew attention to his lips. The big curlers had been used to add a wondrous body to his hair, as it had been teased back off his face and ears, like a model having a fan blowing in her face. Behind the poufy front, his hair flowed into a series of thick brushed out illustrious waves that ruffled down his shoulders, and across the open back of the dress. Thin silver double pendants swung from his ears, and a silver bicep bracelet encircled his left upper arm as he took it all in, feeling ready to command the stage. One more time stepping out and Saturday night as Paula would be over, and he was more than ready to get on with it so he could get some rest. "Ok Lillian, let me study it or whatever time is left," said Paul, turning away from the mirror and trying to get fully prepared. "I think I'm good now." "Now you ask me!?" said Lillian looking at her watch. "It's time to go honey. Just read the teleprompter and be emotionally engaged. Show enthusiasm. The judges have already interviewed you, so there will be no quizzing. Tonight, they are just seeing if you can handle the pressure of speaking on stage in front of an audience, and are anxious to see how you portray yourself." "Ok, you know I have no stage fright," said Paul with confidence. "Yes! You've certainly proven that, and that you make a remarkable young lady," said Lillian. "In fact, that like it or not, you really are a remarkable young lady. Smart, talented, pretty! But now they want to hear that in your own words in front of everyone. They don't want cocky or over confident though. They want humble. Maybe a little vulnerable and caring. They want a young girl blossoming, that even younger girls will look up to. Someone that will make them look good as Miss Junior Teen. Understand?" "Wow," said Paul, feeling some butterflies now. "I don't know. That's a lot of pressure for girls I never realized they had. I'll try my best." "Just be you, honey," said Lillian, getting very positive, looking him in the eyes and then spinning him towards the mirror. "I know I'm tough on you, but I'm already proud of everything you've done. How far you've come. You're special, Miss Paula Anne. A special girl. Look at her." "Yes," smiled Paul, almost hypnotized as he became absorbed as his lips sparkled back at him.