Rent or Forfeit 03

Chapter 3: A Tight Call

Staring down at the scraps of paper unfolded on the living room coffee table, Tommy wrestled with the consequences of each decision. He considered the pros and cons of having painted nails. It wouldn't be the end of the world, he thought, recalling some goth guys he'd seen with black polish. However, the paper specified bright colours, and the idea of sparkly pink polish on his fingers and toes repulsed him. Then there was the maintenance part - the embarrassment of repainting his nails each evening, no doubt under his sisters' watchful eyes. No, that option was out of the question. It had to be the tights.

Having decided on the lesser of two evils, Tommy tried to convince himself that wearing pantyhose wouldn't be so bad. After all, they were essentially just long socks, right? With the recent cold weather and him having nothing to wear but shorts, he'd at least be a little warmer. "I'll wear the tights," he declared confidently, looking up at Sarah and nodding.

"Great choice, Tom. Your legs are going to look so pretty in a pair of sheer nylons," Sarah teased, eliciting a burst of laughter from Monica.

Sarah then exited the room, returning a few minutes later with a plastic bag. She approached Tommy and handed it over. "Here, these are for you," she said with a grin.

"What's this?" Tommy nervously asked as he took the bag.

"Just a little donation from me and Mon," Sarah replied, sharing a smirk with her sister. "It'll give you something to wear, and an opportunity for us to go shopping. Feel free to buy your own too if you want?”

Tommy’s top lip curled as he peered into the bag, discovering what appeared to be rolling hills of soft, colourful material. He tentatively reached in and felt the soft fabric, then quickly pulled back his hand as a shiver ran up his hairless body. “These will do just fine, thanks,” he choked out, not thrilled about wearing his sisters' hand-me-down pantyhose, but without the means or the desire to buy his own - especially since he viewed the situation as temporary.

"So, go on. Choose a pair and we can show you how to put them on properly," Monica quipped. "They’re easy to snag if you’re not careful."

"What?! Like right now?" Tommy exclaimed, suddenly regretting his decision as he noticed the excitement on Monica’s face.

"Of course," Sarah confirmed. "The forfeit begins as soon as you make a decision. From now on, unless you're sleeping or showering, we expect to see you with colourful, nylon-covered legs. And as per the rules, the timer has been reset. You have seven days to find next week’s rent money, or you choose again. Of course, you always have the option of moving out!"

Feeling defeated, Tommy sighed. “Okay, show me,” he grumbled, much to Monica’s delight.

Ten minutes later, Tommy stood in front of the full-length mirror in his room, gazing at his legs in disgust. He had chosen a black pair for his first experience with tights. Seated on the sofa, he had cringed as Monica demonstrated how to roll the thin, stretchy fabric into a doughnut shape. Talking him through the process, she first, rolled and then tugged the tights up his smooth legs, adjusting them around his waist. After a few final tweaks and helping him back into his girly-looking denim shorts with frayed edges and his Converse, Monica stepped back. Tommy seated on the sofa, slowly looked down at his legs encased in the strange, alien material, as a wave of nausea washed over him. Excusing himself, he bolted from the room.

As they heard their little brother's footsteps fade up the stairs, Sarah turned to Monica and gave her sister a congratulatory high-five. They could imagine the peculiar new sensations Tommy was experiencing at that moment, the figure-hugging garment compressing his legs, stretching and swishing as he retreated to the safety of his room. It had been a challenging week, as they inspected their brother daily to ensure he continued to shave his legs and use the shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom. Although not part of a forfeit, they insisted he continue to use these products as they gave his hair a pleasant smell and added feminine volume and shine.

"It won't be long now," Sarah said, smiling at Monica. "I give him two more weeks, max."

"Maybe," Monica replied, shrugging her shoulders. "You know how stubborn he can be when he sets his mind to something."

"Well, he can be as stubborn as he wants," Sarah chuckled. "But he's going to break at some point. There are some real stinkers in there," she added, referring to some of the more extreme challenges that awaited her brother in the hat of forfeits.

Up in his room, Tommy grimaced as he twisted his body left and then right, viewing his legs from different angles. The stretchy, dark material clung tightly to his skin, highlighting every curve and contour under the artificial bedroom light. The sensation of having his hairless legs held in a soft embrace of tights was as disturbing as it was fascinating, with the delicate material having transformed his legs into those of a woman.

(See Image 03)

Balling up his fists, Tommy swore to himself that he would find a way to make some money the following week. He had thought he could beat his sisters at this game by staying strong, but if the next couple of forfeits were as transformative as the first two, he dreaded how feminine he’d look in a few weeks’ time. The thought of what could come next sent chills down his spine - high heels, a mini skirt to match the tights! No, there was no way he would let them humiliate him any further. He would find a job, earn enough to silence them, and then quit to resume his leisurely existence.

Frustrated and annoyed with his predicament, Tommy flopped onto his bed and pulled out his phone. He desperately needed a distraction, and his favourite mobile game was just the ticket. He spent the rest of the evening lost in the virtual world, trying to forget the sensation of the nylon fabric caressing his smooth skin, refusing to go back downstairs where he would face the mocking laughter of his sisters.

Starting the next morning, Tommy frantically searched job listings, but the sensation of silky nylon slipping over his legs whenever he moved proved a constant distraction. The annoying swishing sound of his steps and the unsettling way his thighs slid across chairs constantly reminded him of the further changes to come if he didn't find a way to make money quickly. He applied for several positions he thought matched his intellect, but as the week progressed and he received no responses, a sense of desperation set in. He even reached out to some old school friends for a loan, but they refused, knowing they would likely never see their money again. Tommy's conversations with old friends had an unexpected effect: he felt more isolated and lonelier than he had in a long time. Previously, he'd regularly engaged in conversations while playing his online games. However, the macho bravado he adopted during gaming now seemed silly with his delicate girly legs constantly on his mind. Trapped in his sisters' home, frustration mounted as he realized he had let the situation get out of hand. The thought of being labelled the freaky man in tights left him too paralyzed with fear to go for a short walk outside. As the week wore on, his sense of entrapment only deepened.

On Friday evening when the dreaded purple hat was placed atop his nylon-clad thighs, Tommy hardly uttered a complaint. With a heavy sigh, he drew out two slips of paper, clutching them tightly as a wave of apprehension washed over him. He knew something about his appearance was about to change, and the worst part was that he had genuinely tried that week to get the rent money.

“Sarah, please can we not do this?” Tommy pleaded, looking up from the sofa at his sister with hopeful eyes. “I tried so hard this week.”

“That’s great, Tom,” Sarah replied, “but you obviously didn’t try hard enough, or you’d have some money for us.”

Glancing over at Monica and seeing her nod in agreement with Sarah, Tommy inhaled deeply. His heart pounded with anticipation as he reluctantly unfolded the papers and laid them on the coffee table to consider his options. As giggles erupted from his sisters, he leaned forward to uncover his fate, then quickly leaned back, scratching his head in indecision. He struggled to determine which option was worse: shaping his eyebrows into high, delicate arches and maintaining them, or piercing his ears to wear long, dangly earrings.