You sit in your room, contemplating your next move.
You are 18 year old, average guy living with your loving mother and a bitch of an elder sister.
Your mother is works has a menial job as a secertary, she has to follow her boss accross the country wherever his business takes him that means she is out of town a lot on these business trips, and at the moment she is on a month long business trip. Which means you are in hands of your sister, who herself is working at a pharmaceutical company & her job pays incredibely well. She is beautiful & successful, in stark contrast to you who is an average joe at max. Despite having seemingly everything you think she is always out to get you, humiliate you, mock you, & have fun at your expense.
So you lay there in your bed wondering about future, especially as you are about to go for your college oreintation tomorrow morning. You start out at a local community college studying art, while college starts next week, you have a brief orientation program scheduled for tomorrow to show you the ropes at the college. Your sister will be taking you there since its a Sunday and her day off. So you have to wake up earlier than your regular lazy 12pm routine. So you think you should.
[[Stay up and Play Game]]
[[Masterbate & go to Sleep]]
<<set $pantsing is false>><img src="images/day1/pubg.gif"/>
You decide to play a few matches in Pubg mobile. You are killing it, blowing squads after squads. You are on a roll, only needing a couple more chicken dinners to reach Ace tier of the game, but a fast look at the clock and you see it's already 2.30 am, so you decide to
[[On a roll, play one more match]]
[[Masterbate & go to Sleep]] <img src="images/day1/Jenna-Sativa.gif"/>
You decide its best to go to bed a little earlier. You start up your browser looking for some porn. After carefully browsing and finding some good old lesbian action you blow a load in your tighty whities. A sweet release. Finally you,
[[bask in afterglow and sleep in dirty underwear]]
[[Sleep naked]]You start out looking to play one more game, but after a couple of hot drops and early deaths, you end up playing for 2 more hours. Hey atleast you got to reach the Ace tier that you have been playing to reach whole season.
<img src="images/day1/ace.jpg"/>
Satisfied with your digitl glory you have a look at the clock
Shit,[[Its 4 a.m., let's hit the bed]]You waking up dazed and alarmed, your sister is shouting at you
you hear something about you being 'a parasite', 'waste of space', you sit on your bed taking it all in.
WHAM! you are hit in the face by a couple of clothes that look,by the looks of which seems like your normal clothes, your tighty whities, black sweatpants & white t-shirt. Your sister is shouting now at you to put on the clothes and hurry up.
[[quitely, wear the clothes thrown at you]]
[[Risk being late and go to the bathroom]]You wake up on time with the sound of your alarm buzzing, ready to face the day. You think you have about 15 minutes to get ready, you think you could have woken up a littleearlier but hey gotta get that sleep as much as possible.
You turn off the alarm and [[Head to the bathroom]]Spank! Spank! Spank! you feel three stinging smacks on your naked butt, next thing you hear is your sister screaming, "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE TOLD YOU TO NOT SLEEP NAKED! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR NAKED ASS & SCRAWNY PENIS (it's average)"
You sit there with your one hand rubbing your ass & other one holding a pillow to hide your buddy.
She continues, "you now I don't evem want to see your face, but since mom had asked me to take you to your little college I had to come into your filthy room. What do I find? Your fucking filthy underwear is sitting next to you on your bed, your ass is in hanging out. Tell me, are you a fucking pig?"
You wonder if she expected and answer before you can open your eyes she hands you a couple of clothes, and says "since you have decided to disobey me and made me see your disgusting self more than anybody would like to, I have decided you will be hiding your little buddy a little bit better in the clothes I have brought"
You look at the clothes and see a white t-shirt, jeans and white panties, wait that can't be right you look at panties a little closely,
<img src="images/day1/panties_cotton.jpg" alt="White Panties" />
"yes pervert those are panties, since I assumed you wouldn't have done laundry & have clean undewear, I thought you can use mine, now hurry up and get ready!"
[[Reluctantly, wear the panties]]
[[Take the panties but ask to the bathroom to change]]
In order to save your modersty & partially to not upset your sister any more you wear what has been handed to you, your sister laughs at you and tells you, "Now come on little sissy $name and [[Get into the car]]", you feel your cheeks turning red in embaressment as you follow her command.You quitely wear the clothes thrown at you, after putting on the t-shirt, sweatpants, & underwear, you head towards the door and wear your sneakers. While heading out you feel a little off in the clothes that you have just put on. You ignore the feeling, fearing another lecture or worse from your sister & [[get in the car]]You apologize for being late, and request your sister to give you two minutes to freshen up. She let's you go, but warns you to be out in hurry otherwise there will be consequences that you might not enjoy.
You take the clothes in your hand and head to the bathroom. You check the clothes she handed to you and see your T-shirt, Jeans, and a weirdly a white pair of panties. Wow that would have been weird to wear. You look around for options on what to wear. Being a lazy piece of ass that you are, your mother takes care of your laundry and you haven't done a load since she went away. That means no clean underwear for you. Now you look at your options
yesterday's [[soiled boxers]] filled with your cum
maybe they are in your hand fora reason, [[wear sisters panties]]
be bold and [[go commando]], a little adventure never killed anyone, or has it? You apologize for being late, and request your sister to give you two minutes to freshen up. She let's you go, but warns you to be out in hurry otherwise there will be consequences that you might not enjoy.
You take the clothes in your hand and head to the bathroom. You again check the clothes she handed to you and see your T-shirt, Jeans, and a white pair of panties. Wow that would be weird to wear. You look around for options on what to wear. Being a lazy piece of ass that you are, your sister correctly assumed that you haven't done a load of laundry since your mother went away since she takes care of your laundry generally. That means no clean underwear for you. Now you look at your options
you could wear
yesterday's [[soiled boxers]] filled with your cum
maybe they are in your hand for a reason, [[wear sisters panties]]
be bold and [[go commando]], a little adventure never killed anyone, or has it?
You decide to this is your safest bet, and you will come back and do the laundry as soon as you get home. You hope they don't smell too bad, to cover it up you use some extra deodrant. You hear your sister shouting for you to hurry up and get to the car.
You oblidge and [[hurry upto the car]]You decide you are feeling a bit adventurous and co commando, and anyway you will come back and do the laundry as soon as you get home. You hear your sister shouting for you to hurry up and get to the car.
You oblidge and [[hit the road]] wiith your sisterYou head to the bathroom & take a shower. After a nice refershing shower. You look around for options on what to wear. Being a lazy piece of ass that you are, your sister correctly assumed that you haven't done a load of laundry since your mother went away since she takes care of your laundry generally. That means no clean underwear for you. You find your white T-shirt & Jeans hanging behind the bathroom door. Now to take care of your underwearproblem you could
wear yesterday's [[soiled boxers]]
be bold and [[go commando]]
[[check hamper]], maybe somethings in there.You find a white pair of panties in the hamper.
<img src="images/day1/panties_cotton.jpg" alt="White Panties" />
You have a close look at them & wonder if they can pass as your tighty wighties, they look clean and fresh out of your sister's laundry. You feel all kinds of wrong holding them in your hands for a second too long that makes it wierd. Snapping out of it you decide to
be a little kinky & [[wear sisters panties]], who is gonna look at them anyway?
wear yesterday's [[soiled boxers]]
be bold [[go commando]], a little adventure never killed anyone, or has it? You give in to your kinky self and wear your sister's panties. Before you can make sense of all your feelings, you hear your sister shoulting & asking you to get in the car.
<img src="images/day1/panties_cotton.jpg" alt="White Panties" />
You wear you T-shirt & jeands over the oanties and head outside to [[Get into the car]] Finally seated, and on the way you notice constant chuckling from your sister. You ignore it for a couple of seconds before asking ,"WHAT!".
She just looks downwards at you, prompting you to check what you are wearing, while commenting slyly, "don't get your panties in a bunch, missy"
[[Check what you are wearing]]You look down and notice nothing unusual at first your T-shirt is fine, you see lower, and find your sneakers, & jeans are also fine. Then the discofort you felt on your way to the car dawns at you and you look underneath your jeans...
The Horror! you see instead of your normal underwear you are wearing White panties, which could be mistaken for your tighty whities if not for it lacy edges.
<img src="images/day1/panties_cotton.jpg" alt="White Panties" />
You shout "WHAT THE FUCK!, why would you do this you perverted bitch!", as soon as the words come out of your mouth, you realize your mistake, nevermind you are in the right, you just cannot use such a tone with the bitch that is your sister, atleast not when your mother is not around to control her.
To your surprize your sister is calm and still in a bit of a chuckle that you think you got away with it.
Car stops, you look and you are at the front of your college, just when you think you have escaped the wrath of your sister and step out of the car she shouts at you to wait and give her a hug before you go. You decide to
[[Give her a hug]]
[[wave goodbye and jolt inside]]Finally seated in the car & on your way to the college, you feel a bit relaxed & not to get carried away a little hopeful of what college has to offer. Your sister brings you back to reality by asking, "Why the fuck have you put on so much deodrant, do little $name thinks like the commercials women are going to flock behind you?, let me break it to you they won't, atleast not because of some disgusting deodrant they won't"
That comment brings you back to the reality and you remeber the reason you over used the deodrant, and the thought of your soiled underwear makes get's you [[feeling disgusted]]In the midst of your self disgust your sister had continued birating you by mentioningyou lack of good looks, any form of success, and your scrawny penis(it's alomst average), all this has caused you to feel a little angry, In a moment of lapsed judgement you lost it.
You shout "WHAT THE FUCK!, why would you do say all this bitch!, its my first day of college", as soon as the words come out of your mouth, you realize your mistake, nevermind you are in the right, you just cannot use such a tone with the bitch that is your sister, atleast not when your mother is not around to control her.
To your surprize your sister is calm and still, you think you got away with it.
Car stops, you look and you are at the front of your college, just when you think you have escaped the wrath of your sister and step out of the car she shouts at you to wait and give her a hug before you go. You decide to
[[Give her a hug |hug soiled]]
[[wave goodbye and jolt inside |jolt soiled]]Finally seated in the car & on your way to the college, you feel a bit relaxed & not to get carried away a little hopeful of what college has to offer. Soon your thoughts get back to the predicment of you sitting there without any underwear. It feels a little uncomfortable freeballing. Your mind wanders around thinking if you might get hernia if you do this regularliy (you dumbass0
So you continue your journey to your college feeling [[uncomfortable]]As you continue to head towards your college, your sisters asks you, "What do you hope to accomplish from your 'little' community college?"
before you could answer, she continues, "why do you continue to waste everybody's time and money, instead of wasting more time by going to a phony college and becoming an 'artist', you should just get a deadend job somewhere, wait on tables, clean some toilets or something. That way you can at least stop being a complete waste of space", all this has caused you to feel a little angry, In a moment of lapsed judgement you lost it.
You shout "WHAT THE FUCK!, why would you do say all this bitch!, its my first day of college", as soon as the words come out of your mouth, you realize your mistake, nevermind you are in the right, you just cannot use such a tone with the bitch that is your sister, atleast not when your mother is not around to control her.
To your surprize your sister is calm and still, you think you got away with it.
Car stops, you look and you are at the front of your college, just when you think you have escaped the wrath of your sister and step out of the car she shouts at you to wait and give her a hug before you go. You decide to
[[Give her a hug |hug commando]]
[[wave goodbye and jolt inside|jolt coomando]] Finally seated in the car & on your way to the college, you feel a bit relaxed & not to get carried away a little hopeful of what college has to offer. Soon your thoughts get back to the predicment of you sitting there in a pair of panties. They feel a little uncomfortable, not quite able to manage your cock in them. But a part of you is feeling a little aroused too.
So you continue your journey to your college [[uncomfortable but aroused]]As you continue to head towards your college, your sisters asks you, "What do you hope to accomplish from your 'little' community college?"
before you could answer, she continues, "why do you continue to waste everybody's time and money, instead of wasting more time by going to a phony college and becoming an 'artist', you should just get a deadend job somewhere, wait on tables, clean some toilets or something. That way you can at least stop being a complete waste of space", all this has caused you to feel a little angry, In a moment of lapsed judgement you lost it.
You shout "WHAT THE FUCK!, why would you do say all this bitch!, its my first day of college", as soon as the words come out of your mouth, you realize your mistake, nevermind you are in the right, you just cannot use such a tone with the bitch that is your sister, atleast not when your mother is not around to control her.
To your surprize your sister is calm and still, you think you got away with it.
Car stops, you look and you are at the front of your college, just when you think you have escaped the wrath of your sister and step out of the car she shouts at you to wait and give her a hug before you go. You decide to
[[Give her a hug]]
[[wave goodbye and jolt inside]] You think its best to not poke the dragon again, and wait for her to give you a hug.
<img src="images/day1/heel.webp" alt="walk" />
She slowly steps out of the car in her hot business suit and high heels & steps towards you. She draws the eyes of people around the car and gives you a surprizingly warm hug. Just as you finish with the hug and turn around she slowly whsipers, "let's see who these losers thinks is a little bitch" & pulls down your jeans, pantsing you in front of dozens of people. Exposing your panties to your freshly minted peers.
<img src="images/day1/pantsing.gif"/>
Everyone around you is having a riot, laughing at you.
[[you pull up your jeans in shame]]
<<set $pantsing is true>>Aware of her sinister nature you decide to quickly wave her goodbye and jolt iniside the college.
while hurrying towards the college you bumb into a a huge guy, who instinctively pushes you away you are destined to either fall on your ass, mid flight you instinctively
[[use your hands to break the fall]]
[[flail around trying to grab whatever you can]].You pull up your jeans filled with shame and head into the campus, after finding a quiet corner to gather your thoughts, you calm yourself down, and decide to look around for the welcome desks being put around for various courses' registration. You locate the desk for your courcse and approach it.
There is no one at the desk currently so you take a seat and wait.
[[You feel a warm hand over your shoulders]]You hurl towards the ground in slow motion, you think its best to just put your haands in front of your face to minimize any potential damage, but in the motion of your fall you end up streching your legs awkardly and at that moment you hear what you think is the
[[sound of your pants ripping right at your groin]]
[[your ankle pop or something]]
You hurl towards the ground in slow motion, unable to think you just flail your hands around trying to grab anything you can, and in that instance you manage to get hold of a fabric. That unfortunately just rips up with your motion and you still hit the ground in full force. You are too busy feeling up your pain that you don't realized what you had just riped apart, you look look at your hands and see a freakin torn dress.
you see a visbily embarresed and distressed girl in front. While dozens of students laugh at her.
<img src="images/day1/disrobe.jpg"/>
[[sit on the ground stunned]]
[[hurry up and try to help her]]Hi,
This is Krl1, This is my first time trying out making a game in twine, I have been playing a lot of games like PE, Seceratary, SQ Cruise Ship, etc. and after taking an inspirtion from them made this story that will primarily focus on sissification, feminization, & humiliation.
This game is for 18+ audience. I hope you enjoy it. All suggestions & criticisim are welcome.
First off,
What is your First Name? <<textbox "$name" "Matt">>
What is your Last name? <<textbox "$lastname" "Dickens">>
What is your Mother's name? <<textbox "$momname" "Beth">>
What is your Sister's name? <<textbox "$sisname" "Jenna">>
[[Introduction]] You think its best to not poke the dragon again, and wait for her to give you a hug.
She slowly steps out of the car in her hot business suit and high heels & steps towards you. She draws the eyes of people around the car and gives you a surprizingly warm hug. Just as you finish with the hug and turn around she slowly whsipers, "you think you can get away with that tone with me little bitch" & pulls down your jeans, pantsing you in front of dozens of people. Exposing your soiled briefs to your freshly minted peers.
<img src="images/day1/pantsing.gif"/>
Everyone around you is having a riot, laughing at you.
[[you pull up your jeans in shame]]
<<set $pantsing is true>>You think its best to not poke the dragon again, and wait for her to give you a hug.
She slowly steps out of the car in her hot business suit and high heels & steps towards you. She draws the eyes of people around the car and gives you a surprizingly warm hug. Just as you finish with the hug and turn around she slowly whsipers, "you think you can get away with that tone with me little bitch" & pulls down your jeans, pantsing you in front of dozens of people. Exposing your naked ass & junk to your freshly minted peers.
<img src="images/day1/pantsing.gif"/>
Everyone around you is having a riot, laughing at you.
[[you pull up your jeans in shame]]
<<set $pantsing is true>>Aware of her sinister nature you decide to quickly wave her goodbye and jolt iniside the college.
while hurrying towards the college you bumb into a a huge guy, who instinctively pushes you away you are destined to either fall on your ass, mid flight you instinctively
[[use your hands to break the fall]]
[[flail around trying to grab whatever you can]].Aware of her sinister nature you decide to quickly wave her goodbye and jolt iniside the college.
while hurrying towards the college you bumb into a a huge guy, who instinctively pushes you away you are destined to either fall on your ass, mid flight you instinctively
[[use your hands to break the fall]]
[[flail around trying to grab whatever you can]].You instantly close your legs together, wondering your next move when suddenly an angel appears in front of your eyes. You see a hot blonde bombshell in front of you, all your pain is gone at that instant and you are planning names of your children in your mind.
<img src="images/day1/wakeup.jpg"/>
"OWWW", you shout suddenly as she tries to help you up and you snap back to reality. She asks, "are you alright?"
You turn red in embaressment that your pants are torn and even more embarresed about what is under the pants.
"Did you hit your head?", she probes,
"No well it's kinda embarassing"
"what is, falling on the ground?"
"Well kinda"
"Shh, don't worry about it, people fall all the time"
"It's not just that"
"What is it then?", she doesn't let up
[[I think I ripped my pants]]
you lie on the ground, anguishing in pain when suddenly an angel appears in front of your eyes. You see a hot blonde bombshell in front of you, all your pain is gone at that instant and you are planning names of your children in your mind.
<img src="images/day1/wakeup.jpg"/>
"OWWW", you shout suddenly as she tries to help you up and you snap back to reality. She asks, "are you alright?"
[[Not really]], I think I heard my ankle pop"Wow, Ok", she musters, "let me take you to the nurse's room"
"that would be great", you answer
After a few minutes of wobbling towards the nurse's office you muster the courage to say
"Thanks for helping me out, My name is $name by the way"
She replies,"oh, I am Charlotte, I am a senior here helping out the new students get registered for classes and show them around"
As you reach the nurses office and take a seat, she opens up here backpack and takes out a list, "$name $lastname", "how do you know my name?" you ask. "Oh I, thought I have read your name somewhere, you are one of my juniors who I am supposed to give a tour of the college dacilities"
"What a coincidence, that we run into each other like this before that" you reply suprisingly insightful you think to yourself.
"Well you get yourself checked and head to the assembly hall for a welcoming speach by the HOD, then meet me back in front where we just met for the group tour"
"Alright I will see you there"
"Alright, take care $name"
Nurse aplies sum balm on your ankle and tells you its nothing to worry about. She tells you to not put much pressure on it.
[[Feeling Better you head towards the assembly hall]]You enter the assembly hall walking gingerly, it looks like around 50 odd students and some parents are in attendance. You quitely take a seat at the back. Flabergasted by the days events, you swear you can feel people looking at you from time to time a little funnily.
Within minutes, the focus turns to the stage and a older man appears on stage and introduces himself as the Head of the Arts Department in your college. He goes on to give a speech that tries to inspire the students, it looks like a standard affair, or might be completely differnt since you are not on this planet let alone this hall, mentally. You keep on thinking about the beautiful angel you just met, of sweet charlotte. You feel a bit of a pain in your ankle.
While you sit quitely dreaming. The assembely is disperessed and a girl annonces, "All the students that have not registered quickly head to the desks set up at near the college entrance, and from there you all should join your allocated senior guides for tour of the college facilities, have a great semester everyone"
On that not you head out back [[for the campus tour |injured tour]]"Geez that would be embarrassing, tell me what's your name?", she asks
"$name" you reply,
"Hi, my name is Charlotte"
"Hi"
"Let me take you to lost and found I am sure we can find something that would fit you"
She grabs your hand and takes you inside the building, you are well on your way before you reply "Ok, I think that would be great"
"Are you a fresher?"
"Yeah, I am joining from today"
"I am a senior here helping out the new students get registered for classes and show them around"
As you reach the lost and found, she opens up here backpack and takes out a list, "$name $lastname", "how do you know my last name?" you ask. "Oh I, thought I have read your name somewhere, you are one of my juniors who I am supposed to give a tour of the college dacilities"
"What a coincidence, that we run into each other like this before that" you reply suprisingly insightful you think to yourself.
"Well let's find you something to wear"
She rummages around and finally comes up with a pair of sweatpants, that looks about would fit you fine but they have a pink line running one the side and definately for women
<img src="images/day1/sweatpants.jpg"/>
You think about protestesting but even though they are embarssing to wear, you think it will be more embarassing if someone looks underneath your torn up jeans.
She "you wear these and head to the assembly hall for a welcoming speach by the HOD, then meet me back in front where we just met for the group tour"
"Alright I will see you there"
"Alright, take care $name"
[[You put on the sweatpants while Charlotte heads out and head towards the assembly hall]]You enter the assembly hall, it looks like around 50 odd students and some parents are in attendance. You quitely take a seat at the back. Flabergasted by the days events, you swear you can feel people looking at you from time to time a little funnily.
Within minutes, the focus turns to the stage and a older man appears on stage and introduces himself as the Head of the Arts Department in your college. He goes on to give a speech that tries to inspire the students, it looks like a standard affair, or might be completely differnt since you are not on this planet let alone this hall, mentally. You keep on thinking about the your fall, your ripped pants and your feminine sweatpants. You feel a bit humilated.
While you sit quitely moping and pitying yourself. The assembely is disperessed and a girl annonces, "All the students that have not registered quickly head to the desks set up at near the college entrance, and from there you all should join your allocated senior guides for tour of the college facilities, have a great semester everyone"
On that not you head out back [[for the campus tour |Tour sweatpants]]<img src="images/day1/desk.jpg"/>
You look back and find a hot blonde bomshell smiling at you, before you can muster a word she takes the seat in front of you and says, "Hi, my name is Charlotte, I am looking over and helping the current batch of freshers in their registration & showing them around the campus facilities, & your name is?" witdh="50%" height=50%>
"Hi, I am $name." you say nervously, you think your nervousness is partially due to the beauty in front of you and partially due to the pantsing you just received in front of dozens of strangers.
"$name $lastname, right?"
...
"Hellooooo, $name $lastname?"
You snap back to life, "Yeah, yeah that's right $name $lastname, thats me"
"Are you alright?, you look a little out of sorts"
"Yeah I am fine, just had a bit of a rough start to the day"
"Awww, that's too bad, anyway I see you will be taking Sketching, Painting, Spanish, Literature, aannnd Physical Education, is that correct?"
"Yeah, sounds about right."
She hands you over a form, that has some basic stuff that you fill out & hand back promptly.
"Alright everything looks good here now you should head to the assembly hall for a welcoming speach by the HOD, then meet me back in front where we just met for the group tour"
"Alright I will see you there"
"Alright, take care $name"
[[Head towards the assembly hall]]You enter the assembly hall, it looks like around 50 odd students and some parents are in attendance. You quitely take a seat at the back. Flabergasted by the days events, you swear you can feel people looking at you from time to time a little funnily.
Within minutes, the focus turns to the stage and a older man appears on stage and introduces himself as the Head of the Arts Department in your college. He goes on to give a speech that tries to inspire the students, it looks like a standard affair, or might be completely differnt since you are not on this planet let alone this hall, mentally. You keep on thinking about the pantsing you recived in front of the college. You feel humilated.
While you sit quitely moping and pitying yourself. The assembely is disperessed and a girl annonces, "All the students that have not registered quickly head to the desks set up at near the college entrance, and from there you all should join your allocated senior guides for tour of the college facilities, have a great semester everyone"
On that not you head out back [[for the campus tour]]In shock and awe of the sight in front of you, you fail to make a move and sit on the ground like a moron. Only a few moments of disbelief have passed before you are confronted by the same behmoth that had pushed youto the ground, he says, "dude, give her fucking dress back" in a low done in manner of bro-talk rather than any to cause further alarm. you get to your senses apologizing to the blonde in front of you who seems to be in a more shocked position than you.
She snaches her dress from your hands and run away saving her modesty.
The guy you ran into approches you again and says, "awesome job dude, you just exposed the hottest chick on campus to half the school, my name's Wade by the way"
only hearing the half of it you reply "$name, $name $lastname"
"Well $name, are you a fresher here?"
"Yeah I came for the orientation program"
"Ok, dude I am sorry for pushing you down, it was a reflex"
"Yeah I get it, I am sorry too. I was totally not looking where I was headed, can you tell me where to register for classe?"
"Alright man, I gotta run, & seeing you are running a bit late for registration I suggest you head to the assembly hall first, then take care of registration, just take a right from down the hall"
"Thanks Wade"
"No Problem buddy"
<<set $metwade is true>>
[[Head towards the assembly hall |ANC]] You get up from the ground approaching the shocked girl in front and offer to help her out.
She snaches her dress from your hands and run away saving her modesty.
The guy you ran into approches you and says, "awesome job dude, you just exposed the hottest chick on campus to half the school, my name's Wade by the way"
only hearing the half of it you reply "$name, $name $lastname"
"Well $name, are you a fresher here?"
"Yeah I came for the orientation program"
"Ok, dude I am sorry for pushing you down, it was a reflex"
"Yeah I get it, I am sorry too. I was totally not looking where I was headed, can you tell me where to register for classe?"
"Alright man, I gotta run, & seeing you are running a bit late for registration I suggest you head to the assembly hall first, then take care of registration, just take a right from down the hall"
"Thanks Wade"
"No Problem buddy"
<<set $metwade is true>>
[[Head towards the assembly hall |ANC]] You enter the assembly hall, it looks like around 50 odd students and some parents are in attendance. You quitely take a seat at the back. Flabergasted by the days events, you swear you can feel people looking at you from time to time a little funnily.
Within minutes, the focus turns to the stage and a older man appears on stage and introduces himself as the Head of the Arts Department in your college. He goes on to give a speech that tries to inspire the students, it looks like a standard affair, or might be completely differnt since you are not on this planet let alone this hall, mentally. You keep on thinking about the naked beauty you just withnessed. You also wonder that Wade looks like a good guy.
While you sit quitely lost in your thoughts. The assembely is disperessed and a girl annonces, "All the students that have not registered quickly head to the desks set up at near the college entrance, and from there you all should join your allocated senior guides for tour of the college facilities, have a great semester everyone"
On that not you head out back [[for registration]]You join the tour that is a group of 10 odd students, you end up visiting the Libarary, Art studio, A gallary of your not so distinguished alumini's work, etc. You listen keenly to everything coming out of Charlotte's mouth, what a beauty you think to yourself.You find out that they will be with you in most of your classes.
You are not much intent on talking with others, as your pantsing is still on your mind, though your focus shifts your beautiful guide from time to time. Mostly you remain kind of glum. As the tour comes to an end and everybodys on their own way, Charlotte approaches you and enquires,"Hi, so you still feeling a little down?", You try to hide your excitment of talking to her and maintain your gllomyness that seems to be working and reply,"Nah, I am feeling better now"
"Really?, I guess my tour was not boring enough for you."
"What!, No you were amazing, I think your tour has been the highlight of my day so far"
"Get outta here you little charmer, well I can see you are feeling a bit better now, but you should not be so gloomy all the time. I saw you turn away from conversing with rest of the group. That will not do you any good here. We all need people around to feel good and do good. So when you join from next weel, I hope you bring a winning smile to the class."
"I am not always so glum you know, it's just that this morning was a little too crazy for me. I will be better next week for sure."
"All right then, I guess I will leave you to it now"
"Hey Charlotte, it was really nice meeting you"
She smiles back at you and walks away.
[[you head back to the bus stand to go home]]
You join the tour that is a group of 10 odd students, you end up visiting the Libarary, Art studio, A gallary of your not so distinguished alumini's work, etc. You listen keenly to everything coming out of Charlotte's mouth, what a beauty you think to yourself.You find out that they will be with you in most of your classes.
You are not much intent on talking with others, as you are feeling a bit embaressed by the feminine sweatpants that you are sporting, though your focus shifts your beautiful guide from time to time. Mostly you remain kind of on the edge. As the tour comes to an end and everybodys on their own way, Charlotte approaches you and enquires,"Hi, so you still feeling a odd due to your sweatpants?", You try to hide your excitment of talking to her and keep your head a bit down with you cheeks red with embaressment and reply,"Nah, I am feeling okay"
"Really?, I guess my tour was not boring enough for you."
"What!, No you were amazing, I think your tour has been the highlight of my day so far"
"Get outta here you little charmer, well I can see you are feeling a bit better now, but you should not be worry about the morning. I saw you turn away from conversing with rest of the group. That will not do you any good here. We all need people around to feel good and do good. So when you join from next week, I hope you bring a winning smile to the class. I am sure no body will remember your sweatpants or fall by next week "
"I sure hope so, it's just that this morning was a little too crazy for me. I am sure next week will be better for sure."
"All right then, I guess I will leave you to it now"
"Hey Charlotte, it was really nice meeting you"
She smiles back at you and walks away.
[[you head back to the bus stand to go home |head back sweatpants]]
You join the tour that is a group of 10 odd students, you end up visiting the Libarary, Art studio, A gallary of your not so distinguished alumini's work, etc. You listen keenly to everything coming out of Charlotte's mouth, what a beauty you think to yourself.You find out that students on tour with you will be with you in most of your classes.
You are not much intent on talking with others, as you are feeling a bit of pain and walking gingerly, though your focus shifts your beautiful guide from time to time. Mostly you remain kind of concerned about your ankle. As the tour comes to an end and everybodys on their own way, Charlotte approaches you and enquires,"Hi, is your ankle still hurting?", You try to hide your excitment of talking to her and keep your head a bit down with you cheeks red with embaressment and reply,"Nah, I am feeling okay"
"Really?, I noticed you walking a bit gingerly, I thought my tour was would put you to sleep for sure."
"What!, No you were amazing, I think your tour has been the highlight of my day so far", a smile comes across your face.
"Get outta here you little charmer, well I can see you are feeling a bit better now, but you should not be worry about the morning. I saw you turn away from conversing with rest of the group. That will not do you any good here. We all need people around to feel good and do good. So when you join from next week, I hope you bring a winning smile to the class. I am sure your ankle will be fine by next week "
"I sure hope so, it's just that my ankle is feeling a little sore. I am sure next week will be better for sure."
"All right then, I guess I will leave you to it now"
"Hey Charlotte, it was really nice meeting you"
She smiles back at you and walks away.
[[you head back to the bus stand to go home |injured home]]
You head back towards the entrance & look around for the welcome desks being put around for various courses registration. You locate the desk for your courcse and approach it.
There is no one at the desk currently so you take a seat and wait.
[[You feel a warm hand over your shoulders |Meet Charlotte]]<img src="images/day1/desk.jpg"/>
You look back in horror and find the hot blonde bomshell that you disrobed in front of half the campus smiling at you, before you can muster a word she takes the seat in front of you and says, "Hi, my name is Charlotte, So what do you have to say after this morning guy?"
"I am sooo sorry, I didn't know where I was going... I was really overwhelmed in the morning.. I..I..got pushed by this Wade guy...sorry I did't realize where my hands were.. sorry...I just hoped to grab anything to break my fall"
She hears you out quitely then shushs you, "It's ok, I was shocked at what happened thats why I ran away. I am a big girl, I don't dwell on much. Don't think you are of the hook yet though I will find a way to settle this one way or the other."
"Okay" you murmer in a glum manner
"You don't get to act glum after exposing me in front of half the campus"
"I am really sorry and whtever punishment or 'way to get even' you think is appropriate is absolutely fine" you reply
"Ok great, so I am looking over and helping the current batch of freshers in their registration & showing them around the campus facilities, & your name is?"
"My name is $name." you say nervously, you think your nervousness is partially due to the beauty in front of you and partially due to the fact that you disrobed her in front of dozens of strangers.
"$name $lastname, right?"
...
"Hellooooo, $name $lastname?"
You snap back to life, "Yeah, yeah that's right $name $lastname, thats me"
"So, I see you will be taking Sketching, Painting, Spanish, Literature, aannnd Physical Education, is that correct?"
"Yeah, sounds about right."
She hands you over a form, that has some basic stuff that you fill out & hand back promptly.
"Alright everything looks good here now I think you were the last one remaining. I have done all the registrations allocated to me. Come with me for the group tour"
[[You both head for the campus tour]]You join the tour that is a group of 10 odd students, you end up visiting the Libarary, Art studio, A gallary of your not so distinguished alumini's work, etc. You listen keenly to everything coming out of Charlotte's mouth, what a beauty you think to yourself. You still can't believe how she is carrying herself so confidently even after you caused her embaressment in front of a whole lot of people. You find out that students on tour with you will be with you in most of your classes.
You are not much intent on talking with others, as you can feel them talking among themselves pointing at you & charlotte and chuckling from time to time, though your focus shifts your beautiful guide time and again to see if she is feeling anything due to this. Mostly you notice she remains in control and command. As the tour comes to an end and everybodys on their own way, Charlotte approaches you and enquires,"Hi, I noticed you checking on me from time to time, not like checking me out but checking on me", You try to hide your excitment of talking to her and keep your head a bit down with you cheeks red with embaressment and reply,"Yeah, I could feel people talking and judging"
"Really?, you are looking out for me then, that's cute"
A smile comes across your face(you moron).
"Well I can see you are feeling all bit better now, but you should not be worry about the morning. What happened happened. Put it behind, I ceratinly have, I am sure people will find something else to talk about by next week besides my underwear"
"I sure hope so, I am really embaressed and sorry about the morning. It was a huge mistake. I am sure you are right & next week will be normal."
"All right then, I guess I will leave you to it now"
"Hey Charlotte, it was really nice meeting you & I am REALLY SORRY"
She smiles back at you while walking away.
[[you head back to the bus stand to go home |head back wade]]
You sit quitely on the bus, you take out your headphones and listen to some music.
Nothing of note happens on the bus as you reach your bus stand, and continue walking towards your home that is just 5 minutes away.
Music has made you forget about all your problems, as it always does.
[[you enter your house with a smile on your face]]You sit quitely on the bus, you take out your headphones and listen to some music.
Nothing of note happens on the bus as you reach your bus stand, and continue walking towards your home that is just 5 minutes away.
Music has made you forget about all your problems, as it always does.
[[you enter your house with a smile on your face |house sweatpants]]You sit quitely on the bus, you take out your headphones and listen to some music.
Nothing of note happens on the bus as you reach your bus stand, and continue walking a bit slowly towards your home that is just 5 minutes away but you are walking a bit cautiously and get there in a couple of minutes more than usual.
Music has made you forget about all your problems, as it always does.
[[you enter your house with a smile on your face |injured home enter]]You sit quitely on the bus, you take out your headphones and listen to some music.
Nothing of note happens on the bus as you reach your bus stand, and continue walking towards your home that is just 5 minutes away.
Music has made you forget about all your problems, as it always does.
[[you enter your house with a smile on your face |disrobe enter home]]As soon as you enter the house, your good mood and smile goes down the toilet as you find your sister sitting in the living room watching TV. You wish you could just telport into your room.
"Well come home little brother" she says mockingly, "I hope your first day of school went according to plan." she says knowing perfectly well what she had done must have traumatized you beyond anything you can handle. But in the end you do think you handled it well.
She looks at you menacingly.
[[you decide its best to just go to your room and not engage her]]
[[you decide you cannot let her get away with her embarssing you in front of dozens of strangers]]As soon as you enter the house, your good mood and smile goes down the toilet as you find your sister sitting in the living room watching TV. You wish you could just telport into your room.
"Welcome home little brother" she says mockingly, suddenly she burst out laughing and asks, "did you lose your sports bra that goes with those sweatpants, I knew you were a sissy", you feel waave of emotions overtaking you as you feel ashamed,embaressed, enraged, & upset at the same time.
She looks at you menacingly, baiting you further to give a response, she says ,"cat got your tongue sissy boy?"
[[you decide its best to just go to your room and not engage her]]
[[you feel a wave of anger overtake you |you decide you cannot let her get away with her embarssing you in front of dozens of strangers]]As soon as you enter the house, your good mood and smile goes down the toilet as you find your sister sitting in the living room watching TV. You wish you could just telport into your room. You continue walking gingerly towards your room.
"Well come home little brother" she says mockingly, "What happened? why are you walking like that? were you trying to learn walking in heels sissy boy?"
You continuee walking towards your room you let out an "ouch", you know she would again say something and you look at her.
She looks at you menacingly further baiting you to draw another response from you, "does it hurt sissy boy?"
[[you decide its best to just go to your room and not engage her]]
[[you decide you cannot let her get away with her embarssing you in front of dozens of strangers]]As soon as you enter the house, your good mood and smile goes down the toilet as you find your sister sitting in the living room watching TV. You wish you could just telport into your room.
"Welcome home little brother" she says mockingly, "How was your first day at MIT", she says sarcastically. She continues taking shots,"Oh I must have mistaken you for someone successful who can get into MIT, you are just a freeloading, lazy, sissy boy that got into community college to make art and express his sissy self", you are confused and enraged with all the non-sense sissy name calling. You look at her & smile.
She looks irritated at your calm demenoer.
[[you decide its best to just go to your room and not engage her]]Feeling calm and composed you decide its best not to engage her any further and head to your room.
You somewhat peacfully lie down on your bed thainking about the your day.
You have a content smile on your face because you know your sister would have been waiting for you to give her a reason to make your life more miserable, instead now she will just be pissed off that she could not lure you into making a mistake again.
<<set $walkaway = true>>
[[You sleep peacefully |Day1 Monday]]In a fit of rage you throw a nearby pot on the wall shattering it to pieces, you continue shouting a hurl of abuse at her.
She stands there taken aback by your rage, visibly stunned.
In the end you just flip her off and take of to your room.
A little later you lie there in bed with a sly smile on your face, not because you think you have won one over your sister, because you know you are in for a world of hurt tomorrow after your sister comes out of the little shock that you gave here. You know it will spur her to fuck you up even more now.
[[You sleep a bit restlessly throughout the night|Day1 Monday]]
<<set $hissyfit = true>>You wake up in the morning a little early as due to your hectic & a bit overwhelming day, yesterday, you actually slept a little earlier than usual. You take a look at your phone.
It's Monday morning 10 a.m.
This brings you a bit of a joy as unlike Garfield you don't hate mondays, in fact you look forward to them since thats the day you get your weekly allowannce.
You are even more happy by the fact that since it is a weekday your sister would have been gone by now, leaving you 'The master of the house' alone to enjoy.
[[You go and take a shower]]
[[You head to the Kitchen to collect your allowance]], that must be sitting on the kitchen counter as always.I enjoy a nice cold shower
<<set $cleanbody = true>>
[[You head to the Kitchen to collect your allowance]], that must be sitting on the kitchen counter as always.You make your way to the kitchen counter to find a big pile of Nothing on the counter, you must have realized after yesterday this was bound to happen. "FUCK!" you say out loud in frustration. Head head over to the fridge and find a note attached, It reads
<<if $hissyfit == true>> Since you decided to 'Man up' yesterday, I decided you shouldn't be getting any allowance this week or ever you ungratefull little cunt. Now you can be a little bitch and call mom like a spineless prick that I know you are. But remember one thing I am the one making all the money in this household beleive it or not. You think mom can afford all this with her secretarial job. It is just something to keep her occupied. I am the one paying all the bills. I have already gone ahead and called told her about your little hissyfit and that there will be changes around here. You know what, she couldn't be bothered what I do to you because she too enjoys to live in a house with a pool, watch the big ass TV that I bought, drive around to work as a freakin seceratary in a frickin lexus that I got her. You can make up your mind either fall in line or get the fuck out of the house.Now go ahead check your mail bitch<</if>>
<<if $walkaway == true>> Since you really showed me that you are truely a mature human being by quitely walking away last night. I have come to realize that you are your own mature man now and a grown ASS ADULT. I have decided since you don't think you have a need to respond to the True Authority in the house, you will not be recieving any allowance anymore. You get this in your little head sissy boy. I am the one making all the money in this household beleive it or not. You think mom can afford all this with her secretarial job. It is just something to keep her occupied. I am the one paying all the bills. I have already gone ahead and called told her that there will be changes around here. You know what, she couldn't be bothered what I do to you because she too enjoys to live in a house with a pool, watch the big ass TV that I bought, drive around to work as a freakin seceratary in a frickin lexus that I got her. So sadly for you luxury time is over its time to either get in line or get the fuck on the streets. Now go ahead and check you mail bitch<</if>>
[[You dreadfully take your phone out of your pocket]]You open your your mail and see a mail from your sister which has an attachment with the mail. You open her mail feeling a bit sorry for yourself and wondering what you did to deserve a sister like her.
The mail read:
<i>To Mister Grown Ass Bitch Boy,
Below is a list of chores that you need to do in order to earn some of your allowance back, I will personally assess your perfromance everyday when I get back from work. For this week, I will give your allowance for the week tonight if you manage to do what I have listed out well enough to my satisfaction.
Chore List:
1. Do Laundry - twice per week
2. Mow the lawn - Once a week
3. Clean the pool - Once a week
4. Clean living room - Twice a week
5. Make Dinner - Weekdays
6. Make Breakfast - Weekdays
7. Clean Toilets - Daily
I know you might not be able to do everything today. Moving on you will be paid at the end of week based on the chores you do. If you don't do any chores throughout the week I would need you to pay rent for living here that will be very reasonable $50 per week, yeah be a 'Man' get a job, pay your dues.
See you tonight Mr. 'Big Man'</i>
<<set $interview = false>>
<<set $money = 60>>
<<set $bestfriendcall = false>>
<<set $momcall = false>>
<<set $time = 10>>
<<set $jobapplication = false>>
<<set $gotjob = false>>
<<set $chores = false>>
<<set $dinner = false>>
<<set $chores = false>>
[[open attachment]]
[[You put your phone back into your packet and head to your room|Your Room]]<img src="images/day2/attachment.jpeg"/>
[[Back |You dreadfully take your phone out of your pocket]] <img src="images/day2/bedroom.jpg"/>
You can't quite believe what is happening here. Even though this is completely in line with the sinister nature of your sister.
<<if $pantsing == true>> She is the same bitch who pantsed you in front of dozens of people just yesterday. <</if>>
You check you pockets to see the money you have with you. You have <<print $money>> dollars with you. You think even if you don't do anything you still have money to pay the rent this week, but what about lunch, games, clothes, supplies for college and stuff you wonder.
You lie on your bed thinking about what to do next
you decide best thing to do right now is to
It's <<print $time>>:00 hrs
[[Releive some stress and masterbate]]
[[Play a Game]]
<<if $bestfriendcall == false>>[[call your best friend for advice]]<</if>>
<<if $momcall == false>>[[call your mother for help]]<</if>>
<<if $interview == true>>[[Head for the interview]]<</if>>
<<if $gotjob == false>>[[start doing those chores]]<</if>>
<<if $interview == false>>[[look online for job postings]]<</if>>
<<if $time gte 18>> [[Your hear your sister come home|sister dinner]]<</if>><img src="images/day1/Jenna-Sativa.gif"/>
You decide its best to relieve some stress. You start up your browser looking for some porn. After carefully browsing and finding some good old lesbian action you blow a load in your tighty whities. A sweet release.
<<set $time = $time+1>>
[[close browser|Your Room]]<img src="images/day2/calling.jpg"/>
You decide to call your best friend <<textbox "$bestname" "Jason">>
<<set $bestfriendcall = true>>
<<set $time = $time+1>>
The bell rings and after a couple of rings he picks up
"Hi bro, a call? who died"
"Yeah, I would have texted but I guess the situtation demanded a call"
"Whats up man, everything alright"
"Yeah you know how it is with my sister she has come up with a new plan to make my life miserable"
You explain the situtation in further detail
After listening carefully your best friends tells you, "listen man, this is a messed up situation. If I were there I would have you over for a week, but I just got settled in my college dorm over the weekend"
You remember that he got a scholarship from Caltech and went to California last friday. Damn.
He continues, "..you have to be a little realistic here bro, you have been getting away easy slacking off this whole time, we all have been doing chores all our life so it really isn't that big of a deal"
"hmmm" you say in agreement and disappointment
"But hey if you don't want to, like I didn't want to when I was 14. Get a job man. I started delivering newspaper, then pizzas to support myself, welcome to being responsible and get a job. I hate your sister like everybody hates Hitler, but she does have you by your balls"
"Thanks for being so helpfull dick"
"Fuck you too bro" he replies joyfully
"Seriously it's a relief talking to you brother"
"Alright buddy,[[Take care |Your Room]], call if you need anything"<img src="images/day2/calling.jpg"/>
You call your mother looking for a way to get things back to normal
She picks up the phone and answers, "Hello"
"Hi mom"
"Listen honey, I am little busy at the moment, so I would sugesst you get on board with your sister for a week of chores, I will get back next week and sort things out between you two."
"but mom..."
"No buts honey its just some chores and she told me type type of attitude you have been showing lately, I think a little reponsibility won't hurt you."
"but.."
"I gotta go son, love you"
<<set $momcall = true>>
[[phone hangs up|Your Room]]
<<set $time = $time+1>><<if $bestfriendcall == true>> You think $bestname was right in pointing out that everybody does chores at their houses, so you might as well do them<</if>>
Given your lack of skill, laughable resume, no experience, and what not you decide to suck it up and do some of the chores on the list
You start by cleaning the toilet & the living room. It takes you around to hours to slack through the cleaning.
<img src ="images/day2/cleaning.jpg"/>
<<set $chores = true>>
[[Meanwhile you recieve a message on your phone]]You decide to look for a job online
Let's see what is available for a mediocre art student
you see a whole lot of menial listings most of which you are uneligible for. You decide to use some filters, you check
Field: Art
Education: High School
Additional known language: none
Previous experience: None
Previous Internship experience: None
After using a couple more filters detailing your ture incompetence you press [[search]]You get three job postings:
1. Sales Assistant : A clothing store at the local mall is looking for a sales assisstant. Pays 10$ per hour for 4 hour shift.
2. Janitor : Your old high school is looking for a Janitor. You would die of embarassment there with all your old teachers & juniors still there.
3. Helper: An old couple need a helper to do there daily chores. Pays 40$ for a day. needs you only two days of the week.
You do the math and think sales assistant job looks most promising as they give the most money and would not have you cleaning strangers shit.
<<if $jobapplication == false>>[[You press Apply on the Sales Assistant job]]<</if>>
<<set $time = $time+1>>
[[close the search |Your Room]]You prepare a small resume and apply for the job, after an hour or so you get a reply asking you to come in for an interview as soon as possible as they need help immediately
<<set $time = $time+1>>
<<set $interview = true>>
You feel a bit nervous to go for your first job interview but you have to make [[a decision |Your Room]] <<set $time = $time+4>>
<<set $salesjob = true>>
You change your clothes & wear a shirt, trouser and sneakers for your interview at the clothing store. You know the store yourself as you have been there a couple of times to buy some stuff for yourself and along with your mother when she has needed something. It serves men, women, and children just like H&M, Or Marks and Spencer.
Within a few minutes of walking you reach the mall, walk past the security & head towards the store. Standing in front of the store you notice a radical shift in the branding of the store. You see a lot of colors poping at you through the store interiors, where once were basic white walls and simple interiors you know see black, pink, & silver interiors. You guess they decided on a change of image. You see host of young girls walking around in similar uniforms.
<img src="images/day2/uniforms.jpg"/>
You have a bit wierdfeeling about this but you ignore your gut and enter. You check show the reply you received for the interview to one of the girls who takes you to the store manager.
The girl gets the attention of the store manager and leave you with her. She is a complete hottie you think. Gorgeuos brunette, tall, nice figure, nice asstes, woah she got you sweatin already.
[[Interview begins]]You waste some time on your phone playing PUBG Mobile
<img src="images/day1/pubg.gif"/>
<<set $time= $time+2>>
[[close the game|Your Room]]You check your phone to see message from the devil herself. It reads
<i>Hi bitch I think you must have realized what a piece of shit you are by now, so be a good little maid, leave whatever is left for tomorrow and prepare dinner for me. Love you. </i>
'Love me', what a bitch.
[[Guess its time to make some dinner]]
[[Fuck her, I am going to play some games with my squad|Play a Game]]<img src="images/day2/mac.jpg"/>
You watch some youtube videos and teach yourself to make some mac & cheese for dinner. You are somewhat satisfied with the job you have done. and think this might just get your sister to back down from making your life hell.
<<set $time=20>>
After preparing dinner you check the time, its almost time for your sister to reach home
You set the table for you both.
<<set $dinner = true>>
[[You hear her car enter the garage|sister dinner]]Your sister enters the living room after parking her car in the garage.
<<if $chores == true>> She looks at you and says,"I see you have managed to clean the living room, what else have you done?"
"I also cleaned the toilet." you reply with some false pride.
"alright good job, though I think my little maid can certainly do better, but still I am satisfied with the cleaning."
You almost feel good with her being satisfied.
<</if>>
<<if $chores == true>>Here is your allowance for the week, continue with the chores and no rent for you pansy<<set $money = $money+70>><</if>>
<<if $chores== false>> "I see you decided not to clean" she says without giving it much weight or emphasis<</if>>
She asks "What about dinner?"
<<if $dinner == true>>"Yes, I made some mac and chesse, I think they turned out good" ,you reply
"I knew you would make something shitty and simple, thats why I brought a large pepporoni pizza"
Pizza! you think to yourself in joy, before feeling a bit angry about all the effort shemade you put into making dinner, crafty bitch.
Still you are feeling a bit happy to be getting some pizza.
<</if>>
<<if $dinner == false>> "I don't know how to cook" you reply
"I knew you are useles, thats why I brought a large pepporoni pizza"
Pizza! you think to yourself in joy!
<</if>>
She asks you to get it out of her car, not wanting to mess up the opportunity to miss out on pizza you jump out to the garage and pring awesome smelling box of joy into the living room.
<img src="images/day2/pizza.jpg"/>
Your wait there for a few minutes as your sister enters the room after chenging out of her work clothes.
You are about to take a slice out of the box when you hear an arrogant,"Ahmm" from her
You put the slice in a plate and offer it to her she.
She pushes the plate along with the pizza slice to the floor.
Plate crashes and break.
You stand there dumbfounded.
She brings back her smug smile and says,"Who said its for you?"
<<if $chores == false>>"Since you decided to Man up, however much you can and not do any chores I don't think you need anything from me, like this pizza, or living here rent free. <</if>>
<<if $dinner == true>>"I suggest you eat the crap and cheese you have made" she tells you<</if>>
<<if $dinner == false>> "Make something for yourself, eat out, or die, No fucks given"<</if>> She points her middle finger at you and takes the rest of the pizza away with her.
[[You head back to your room in disbelief]]You lie on your bed thinking about the days events.
<<if $momcall == true>> You can't help but think your mom just let you out to dry and expected you to follow your sister's order<</if>>
<<if $dinner == true>> You think what a bitch your sister is, first she asked you to make dinner, which you made after a lot of hard work, and she didn't even try it. Though after you ate it, it really was crap and cheese.<</if>>
<<if $dinner == false>> That bitch didn't even let you have a single slice of pizza, even through one on the floor. You would hate her for for a long time<</if>>
<<if $salesjob == true>> You are happy though on getting a job on first day of trying. Even though it is a sales job, that doesn't intrest you. Atleast you don't have to depend on the Alpha Bitch of your house<</if>>
<<if $chores == true>> You can't belive you have to do chores every week from now on.<</if>>
You check your wallet, you have <<print $money>>dollars with you.
You sign in relief that another day has passed you by, you hope things will fall back to their usual pace after a while. Maybe once your mother comes back, she might help smooth things out for you.
You keep on thinking about your future, as slowly sleep arrives and takes you to [[another day |day3 start]]You and $managername both take seat in store Manager's office
<img src="images/day2/manager.jpg"/>
"Ah so you must be $name $lastname"
"Yes, mam, good afternoon" you reply a bit nervously,
"Ah Good Afternoon to you to $name, you don't have to call me mam. I prefer you call me <<textbox "$managername" "Jessica">> did you bring a copy of your resume?"
You handover your resume.
See smiles as she has a look over probably at the fact that there is nothing of note on that, she cuts to the chase "I see your have no prior experience, special certifications, or anything extracurricular on your resume, tell me what have you been doing to get something more from your life"
You struggle to find words to explain your complete lack of intrest in doing anything that is considered productive. Just as you are about to string togather some load of crap
She interupts you,"I don't expect you to answer that, tell me a why are you looking for work now?"
You start lying through your teeth,"I recently started going to college at the Greendale community college nearby, so I thought that getting a job would help me gather some vital experience going forward, and yes I don't have any prior experience but that also means that I am a clean slate ans just ready to absorb all the knowledge avaialable."
She just nods.
"Well we are looking for someone like you, since you can see we are undergoing a massive image change form a everybody's clothing store towards a more trendier outfit. We no longer serve children. We primarily focus on women and unisex clothing line. I say we are looking for someone like you because don't have a particularly manly exterior and I think you can be an ambassador of our unisex clothing, so if you are interested you can join in from tomorrow itself since we are short on male assistants"
You say, "yeah absolutely I am ready to work", with a wide smile on your face.
She replies, "perfect then you can join from tomorrow as already disclosed we will pay you $10 per hour, a shift is of 4 hours at least. We may ask you to come in hour a longer 8 hour shift after you are permanent. You have a two week probation period, where if you don't perform to my satisfaction you can be let go of any minute."
You nod sheepishly, you never expected getting a job will be this easy.
She brings out a contract that you sign blindly like a moron that you are.
She calls in one of her assistants to bring in a box with store branding and hands you to the box.
"This contains your uniform, keep it clean, we provide you with two sets of uniforms, you must wear them completely, it will be checked at the begining of your shift everyday"
You continue to nod.
"Alright then, I expect to see you tomorrow, properly dressed and clean shaved" she points at your weird stuble.
"Alright, thanks a lot for the job, I will not disappoint you"
"We will see" she replies and a little rudely points you to the exit
You head straight back home with a smile on your face.
[[Just as you settle in you here you sisters car enter the garage|sister dinner]]You are peacfully asleep, when suddenly a horn is sounded next to your ear. You jump out of your bed alarmed, & confused. You are not even surprised that its your sister standing beside your bed with a horn in her hand. She laughs out load at your misery.<<set $drawingskill = 5>><<set $wfh = 0>>
<<if $chores == true>> She staarts "Well since you have decided to be my little maid, I think as per your chores list you are supposed to make me breakfast."
"I am not anybody's goddamn maid", you reply in frustration
"Ofcourse sweety, not yet anyway."
"Not ever"
"We will see about that now why don't you get it through your bimbo head that you cannot sleep like a lazy bum anymore you have to prepare breakfast for me every weekday from now on, at least if you want to live here, get your allowance and stuff, you know."
"Yeah, I know", you look at the ground as a sudden wave of disappointment and reality hits you.
<<set $day = 3>> <<set time = 8>>
"Aww, don't look so defeated sweety, I haven't even started messing with you yet, besides if you do not protest and sit there taking it, it all isn't that fun for me, but its still pretty fun"
"...", you stay quiet
"Enough moping, Now get you ass out of the bed and make me some breakfast bitch & don't forget to mzke some coffee" she says in her true bitch form, probably losing patience with your lack of fight [[You go head to the kitchen to make breakfast]]<</if>><<set $spitbreakfast = 1>> <<if $salesjob == true>> "Wake up you shit, since you wont be doing any chores, I suggest you pay this weeks rent now" she shouts at you<<set $money = $money-50>>
"Would you stop shouting, geez." you are really not in the mood to fight her over this and you did decide to not take up her offer so you take out your wallet and hand her the 50 dollars.
"Well thanks big guys, I don't know how my family would have survided withour your hefty contribution you are making to this household" she said mockingly, to drive her point home the bitch proceeds to tear up the money in front of you.
You look at her in disgust and horror, frankly you are finding all this shit with throwing away pizza, and now tearing up money insane.
"What the fuck is the matter with you, first you throw away the pizza, & broke a plate in the process, now you are tearing up money. Why are you such a saddistic bitch?"
With a wiff of crazy she replies ,"You don't worry about what is wrong with me little cunt, you worry about next weeks rent, and what are you going to eat, and how will you buy shit that you need in life."
"I got a job", you reply with a sense of pride.
"I can't believe you actually manned up and got a job. Maybe I didn't give you enough credit. Anyway tell me who the fuck wanted to hire a good for nothing, piece of shit, low life like you?"
You are about to tell her before you remember you don't really want her to know because knowing her she would definately drop by the store and embarass you some more. You hold yourself back and reply,"You worry about collecting your rent, I will take care of my self." you reply with a bit of self confidence.
"Woah, did your balls just dropped yesterday or what, fair enough bitch don't tell me, be ready to face this cold world junior." with that she exits your room.
You look at the clock it's 8am, crazy bitch woke me up for nothing.
[[You go back to sleep]]<</if>>While you head to the kitchen to make something for breakfast, you see your sister head towards the bathroom to take a shower.
At this moment your 'genius' brain gets to work and you think it might me a great idead to maybe get back at her for making your life miserable by taking some pictures of her in the shower, maybe you could use them against her to double your allowance, or free you up from these chores, or maybe it could, nah probably it would backfire and you will come of worse than you currently are. Well, its certainly something to think about.<<set $spitbreakfast = 0>>
You think its best to get back to this later, and get to work.
[[You make eggs, toast, & coffee|breakfast]]
On the other hand,
[[You make eggs, toast, & maybe SPIT in her coffee|breakfast][$spit to true,$spitbreakfast += 1]] You sleep for another couple of hours before waking up again.
You remember your sister tore up your money, that evil maniac. Still not to get yourself down you get out of the bed.
[[Your Room Job Day 3]]<<set $time = 10>>You make some eggs and toast and serve them with coffee to your sister.
Who is fresh out of her shower and ready for work. She sits at the dining table with you for breakfast. She dosn't acknowledge your presence for a while and eats her breakfast while looking at her phone.
You continue eating breakfast yourself. After having a bit she grabs her coffee mug and takes a few sips before looking at you. You ask,"How's everything milady?" jokingly.
"I see you still haven't quite lost your spirt chump, well thats what keeps me going to know there is still something to break." She finishes her breakfast." She gets up ready to leave.
<<if $spit is true>>'Man, I am glad I spit in that bitch's coffee' you think to yourself and smile with a lot of satisfaction<</if>>
"Take care of the chores as agreed upon, and make something good for dinner <<if $spit is true>> and stop smiling bitch doesn't suit you<</if>>" she says as she heads out to the garage.
[[You head back to your room|Your Room Day3]]
<<print $spitbreakfast>>
<<set $time = 10>> <<set $chores = false>><img src="images/day2/bedroom.jpg"/>
You sit in your fortress of solitude.
The clock in you room shows <<print $time>> hrs.
<<if $time lte 19>>
[[Practice drawing]]
[[Play some video games]]
[[Find work from home|Workhome]]
<<if $chores == false>>[[Do your chores as agreed]]<</if>>
[[Masterbate]]
<</if>>
<<if $time gt 19 and $time lt 22>>
[[Time to make dinner]]<</if>>
<<if $time == 22>>
<<if $stab == true>>[[THIS IS INSANE, She stabbed me I won't stand for it I am gonna call the cops]]<</if>>
Fuckin bitch, I can't stand her. You remember in the morning you saw her head to the shower and thought of getting some leverage over her.
[[Plan out a way to get her naked pictures in shower]]
On the other hand, given your lack of luck in life, that might backfire at you hard. [[So you think its best to just continue on the same way it has been going|Day4]]<</if>><img src ="images/day3/draw.jpg"/>
You bring out your drawing book and practice drawing. You think it will be helpful in college with you having sketching in your curriculum.
<<set $drawingskill = $drawingskill+2>>
<<set $time= $time+2>>
<img src ="images/day3/draw.jpg"/>
[[Enough practice|Your Room Day3]]You waste some time on your phone playing PUBG Mobile
<img src="images/day1/pubg.gif"/>
<<set $time= $time+3>>
[[close the game|Your Room Day3]]<<set $wfh = $wfh+1>><<set $time = $time + 2>>
<<if $wfh lte 3>>You think it might be in your best interest to look for some work from home opportuinties. You look at some popular job search engines. Applying for a few jobs. You think you might find something if you keep trying.<</if>>
<<if $wfh == 4>> You get a response for a job you applied for in regards to content creation. The job desription says you would have to write product descriiption & review some of the company's products. They would pay you 5$ per post. Without a thought you give your consent & enquire when can you begin? <</if>>
<<if $wfh gt 4>> You await response from the job provider <</if>>
[[Back|Your Room Day3]]You get down to doing your chores as per your sisters list. \
<<set $chorecount = $chorecount+1>><<set $time = $time+3>><<set $chores = true>> \
<img src ="images/day2/cleaning.jpg"/> \
[[back|Your Room Day3]]<img src="images/day1/Jenna-Sativa.gif"/>
You decide its best to relieve some stress. You start up your browser looking for some porn. After carefully browsing and finding some good old lesbian action you blow a load in your tighty whities. A sweet release.
<<set $time = $time+2>>
[[back|Your Room Day3]]It's 8pm you decide it's best to make dinner not in the least because it's in your chores list but because you yourself might die of hunger if your sister doesn't give you whatever she has brought.
You again look at youtube and find a video to help you prepare some Spaghetti. You think it turned out to be a bit better than your mac and cheese. By nine your sister's car enters the garage again.
You have already set the dinner table with plates for her and yourself.
She enters through the living room and heads straight into the room without acknowleging your presence.
ten minutes later she comes out of her room wearing her casual clothes. It all seems a bit mundane till she opens her mouth.
<<if $chores == true>> "You are really breaking my balls by doing all the chores like a perfect maid. If you keep doing your chores I don't get to make your life miserable and I don't know which I prefer. A well maintened house or making your life hell."
You look at her in disdain and with a little worry.
"Lol, you know I am kidding it doesn't even come close you know nothing comes close to the joy of making you suffer. Anyway, keep up and you might have a career working as a french maid in someones house"
"Get off my case, I did what you want. Why can't we just be normal brother and sister?"<</if>>
<<if $chores == false>> "Well I see dinner is ready but why haven't you done any of the other chores around the house, I thought you have understood your place in this house you little bitch. Nevermind though I will make you remember it soon enough. First thing first what has my sissy brother made today, oh Spaghetti, looks good"
She starts to eat her dinner, a little curious and scared of her actions you to start after her. In the middle of her meal she stops, you can see the menace in her eyes. She stands up and picks half her eaten plate from the table, just as she is about to pass you by she empties the plate right on your head.
You can feel the rage inside you as you sit there covered in Spaghetti. Your fork drops on the floor. She picks it up,"Oops I think you dropped your fork, you are a clumsy little bitch aren't you".
WHAM!, she staps the fork in your hand and says,"Here, I picked it up for you.
<img src ="images/day3/stab.jpg"/>
"AAAAAARRRRGGGHHHHHHHHH", you shout in uncontrolable pain. You muster all your strength to take out the fork from your hand. Your hand is bleeding from that. You start to panic as you see the blood.
You see your sister come out from the bathroom with a First-Aid Kit, she puts you back in your seat,"Don't be a baby", you can feel tears falling down your cheeks. She patchs you up.
"Now don't say I never did anything for you."
"Are you INSANE. YOU DID THIS!"
"What are you gonna do about it?, I told you to do simple work, get money for it live here rent free, and what do you do? piss on our agreement. I know you knew there will be consequences, I think you want to be hurt, don't you?"
"You are insane you crazy bitch, you have made my life hell!"
"Well I try!", She says with a smile.
"Why do you keep on doing things like this?" <<set $stab = true>><</if>>
"You seriously expect an answer for that?"
"I do."
"Well let me put it this way ever since the ruined the last season of Game of Thrones, I havn't really found anything entertaining besides fucking with my little sissy brother."
"Whatever, I know you really don't have any reason for doing all this. You are just a saddistic person(bitch), driving joy out of others misery."
"You know what, those are some big words coming out of a little man. But you are right I am a saddistic bitch and I will continue to fuck you up, the more you resist the more joy I get."
<<if $spitbreakfast == true>>I am glad I spit in her coffee.<</if>>
You both head to your rooms.
<<set $time = 22>>
[[Your Room|Your Room Day3]]You make your way to the bathroom and start to look around hopingto find something you could use you see there is a vent right above the shower, you figure you can pry it lose and access it from the out side to get a steamy video. You try and it comes loose easily. You head to the other side quitely, but it is like 8 feets off the ground.
"hmmm" you look around and find a couple of garbage cans that you are sure will do the trick. You move them below the vent and perfect. You are set for tomorrow.
An evil grin comes across your face. <<set $showerrevenge = true>>
[[You head to your bed looking forward to tomorrow.|Day4]]You won't stand for bullying by your sister, not be bossed around by the crazy bitch, and certainly not violence.
Good for you buddy.
<img src ="images/day3/arrest.webp"/>
Your sister is taken into custody by the police and sent to prision for assaulting you. Your mother comes back from her business trip early. You both have to move out of your house as your mother cannot pay the mortgage payments. Her car is reposessed. You both move into a one bedroom appartment where you live a life of poverty. While your mother resents you every second. She throws you out after a couple of months. You drop out of college as you don't have any money to continue.
Game over for now. Try not being a snitch and embrace the chaos if you want. Thanks for playing, other paths will be developed.
P.S. I even plan on progressing this path some day. Not for a while though.:: try getting a job, that path has content, sorry<img src="images/day2/bedroom.jpg"/>
You sit in your fortress of solitude.
The clock in you room shows <<print $time>> hrs.
<<if $time lte 14>>
[[Practice drawing1]]
[[Play some video games1]]
[[Masterbate1]]
<</if>><<set $unipanties = false>>
<<if $time gt 14>> [[You see its time to head to wotk]]<</if>>
You head to the bathroom to shave as you were told by your manager.
You hate to shave out your patchy beard as you feel it chips away at your limited masculinity. Still you gotta do what you gotta do and shave it off.
You wash your freshly shaven face and look at the mirror
<img src="images/day3/cleanshave.webp"/>
You pick out your uniform bag to find two navy blue uniforms. You look at them closely. What, they look like same uniform most of the girls were wearing at the store. You look at both of them dumbfounded. You ask yourself do you really want to do it. You don't think you have any options here. You swollow your pride and think whats the harm in trying?
Nobodys watching lets just try it out.
<img src="images/day3/uniforms.jpg"/>
The thought of wearing such feminine clothes sends a bit of blood rushing in your pants. Nothing to get out of control though.
You decide to wear the one without the scarf. As you take it out in your hands a pair of black panties falls out of the box.
You hold the panties in your hand. They seem quite like your briefs but they seem to be made of satin, with front having lace detail and to end it all that this is infact feminine underwear there is a pink bow in the front.
<img src="images/day3/pantiesblack.jpg"/>
You don't think they expect you to wear these as well now, do they? Therefore you decide
[[You wear the uniform without the panties|Try Uniform]]
[[You think the manager told you to wear the complete outfit so...|Try Uniform][$unipanties to true]]<<if $unipanties == true>> You put on the pair of panties on, you love the sensation of lace sliding up your legs and onto your hard on. You can't seem to control your little buddy who is streching out the panties, without wasting further time you remove your panties, & franikly jack off.
Woah you can't believe the satisfaction you got from that intense session of masterbation. It was way more intense than your regular fapping you thought to yourself.<</if>>
You realize you are getting late for work. You put on the unifrorm in a hurry. Before leaving you look yourself in the mirror. You think you look like a total basket case. So you pick up your jacket in a hurry and wear it over your uniform before heading [[to work]]You arrive at work, right on time. You enter the store with a mix of fear and excitment. Both been driven partially from your 'unisex' outfit and partially from starting out your first job.
<img src="images/day3/samantha2.jpg"/>
You see the same girl that introduced you to your manager yesterday. You wave at her sheepishly.
She comes near you,"Hi, I heard you got the job, congratulations. I think you will find that this is a great place to work, and I am sure we will have a lot of fun." She says with far too much entusiasm you believe.
"Sorry I didn't catch your name", You ask the redhead.
"Oh yeah it's Samantha, you are $name, I was told"
"Yeah thats right", you reply
"So $name, I have been working here for almost a year, come with me to the back", she leads you to the back and continues,"I have been told to be your mentor during your probabtion period, so think of me like your caring elder sister." This line makes you laugh out loud a bit.
"What's funny?" she asks.
"Oh, its just that I have an ealder sister and caring has never been used to describe her. But I am sorry continue."
"Ohhk, so I will be your mentor. That means you will shadow me, that is follow me around for a couple of days look at how I deal with the customers, where is the stock, how to hold, set up clothes on display, etc. etc., I will answer all your queries and help you settle in."
"Sounds perfect." you reply.
"Alright so I am also responsible to check your uniform."
You stand in front her looking at yourself up and down,"Why isn't everything fine?"
"I mean completely check"
It dawns on you she wants to check your underwear.
"ohh", you reply.
<<if $unipanties == true>> You lower your pants a bit and show her your panties. "Aren't you a cutie, they are Perfect! Full marks for complete outfit, come quick now we got a lot to do" <</if>>
<<if $unipanties == false>> You lower your pants and show your normal underwear, you say,"was I really expected to wear those ridiculous panties?"
"They are our range of mens unisex undergarments, you have to wear them, I thought $manager must have already told you."
"I think she did." you reply reluctantly. You ask "Now?"
"Wait", she heads put and comes right back in a a few seconds "Here, wear theses or you will get me in trouble too."
Your cheeks are red in further embaressment just look at what she just handed you. They are pink panties.
<img src="images/day3/pantiespink.jpg"/>
"What, I can't wear these."
"Don't be a baby they are a part of your uniform, wear it like a professional, you are legally required to wear your uniform you know."
"Really?"
"100%, come on now hurry up. We got a big day ahead"
You ask yourself is it worth not doing your chores, to walk around in pink panties? You look into your pockets that only have 10 bucks in it. Well Fuck it.
You succumb to the circumstances and psych yourself up to get it over with. You wear the pink panties after asking Samantha to leave, and head out to work.<<set $unipinkpanties = true>><</if>>
[[Work]]
You head out to work, there is a ton going on to be honest. You follow Samantha around the floor sometimes helping out by holding some stuff, our carrying stuff around. You are amazed how she is able to handle the customers.
<img src="images/day3/samwork.gif"/>
You think she is quite capable. You think you might find it all a bit too much if she wasn't around to explain everything to you.
As they day goes on. You find yourself getting turned on more and more by your panties. You love the way they feel on your crotch as you move around.
Soon you realize your enjoyment is becoming apparent to everyone, you notice Samantha not making eye contact with you and giggling a couple of times & that finally breaks it to you.
You head to the back of the store in embaressment, you cheeks turn red.
You take a few deep breaths and head to the bathroom to take care of your problem.
When you return, Samantha acts normally and you continue on working.
At the end of the day you feel you have learned a bit too much.
You head back to get your jacket and say goodbye to Samantha and other girls at the store. You swear you can again hear them giggle, you think probably at you.
[[You shake it off and head home.]]
You bring out your drawing book and practice drawing. You think it will be helpful in college with you having sketching in your curriculum.
<img src="images/day3/draw.jpg"/>
<<set $drawingskill = $drawingskill+2>>
<<set $time= $time+2>>
[[back|Your Room Job Day 3]]You waste some time on your phone playing PUBG Mobile
<img src="images/day1/pubg.gif"/>
<<set $time= $time+2>>
[[back|Your Room Job Day 3]]<img src="images/day1/Jenna-Sativa.gif"/>
You decide its best to relieve some stress. You start up your browser looking for some porn. After carefully browsing and finding some good old lesbian action you blow a load in your tighty whities. A sweet release.
<<set $time = $time+1>>
[[back|Your Room Job Day 3]]As you enter your home in your uniform, you thank heavens that you decided to cover it up with your jacket. As you are about to enter the house you see your sisters car is already parked in the garage.
'Fuck, how did she get back so early' you think to yourself as you would have liked to change out of your work clothes before meeting her.
No matter, you enter the house with your head held high. You are not doing her chores and instead earning money for yourself.
You see her sitting in the living room, while you try to ignore her and head straight to your room.
"Woah there pretty boy thoe are some shapely pants you got there" she lets out a laugh. which you ignore and enter your room.
You change out of your clothes and head out to kitchen. Unsurprisingly you find some takeway containers that are empty. Your sister had her dinner but didn't get anything for you. <<set $time = 6>>
You sigh with a bit of frustration, in the end you make yourself a sandwhich and [[head to sleep.|Day4 job]]::Your Room Day 4
<<if $time is undefined>>
<<set $time = 6>> <!-- Initialize $time -->
<</if>>
<<if $workAction is undefined>>
<<set $workAction = "none">> <!-- Initialize $workAction -->
<</if>>
<img src="images/day2/bedroom.jpg"/>
You are in your room. The time is <<print $time>>:00.
<<if $time gte 6 and $time lt 12>> <!-- Morning -->
- [[Have Breakfast]]
- [[Relax in Bed]]
<<elseif $time gte 12 and $time lt 17>> <!-- Afternoon -->
- [[Go to Work]]
<<elseif $time gte 17 and $time lt 22>> <!-- Evening -->
- [[Prepare Dinner]]
- [[Relax]]
- [[Play Games]]
<<elseif $time gte 22 or $time lt 6>> <!-- Night -->
- [[Sleep]]
<</if>>
::Have Breakfast
You head to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The smell of toast and coffee fills the air as you sit down for a quiet meal. It’s a small moment of peace before the rest of the day unfolds.
<<set $time = 12>>
[[Return to your room|Day4 job]]::Relax in Bed
You flop back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft comfort of your mattress feels like a safe space to escape from the chaos of your life.
Your thoughts wander to the day ahead, and you can't help but think about your manager, <<print $managername>>. Their stern but fair attitude makes you wonder if they see any potential in you—or if they just tolerate you.
Then there's your sister, <<print $sisname>>. The memory of her sharp remarks lingers, and you feel the familiar frustration bubble up. Why does she always seem to get under your skin?
You sigh, letting the weight of your thoughts pull you deeper into the bed's embrace.
<<set $time = 12>>
[[Return to your room|Day4 job]]
::Go to Work
<img src="images/store.webp"/>
You arrive at your job. It’s your second day, and your manager, <<print $managername>>, greets you with a list of tasks.
"Today, you'll be on the register. Let me know if you need help," your manager says.
As the day progresses, you encounter:
- A difficult customer.
[[Difficult Customer]]
You waste some time playing games, like I wasted time creating this passage.
<img src="images/day1/pubg.gif"/>
::Prepare Dinner
You step into the kitchen, determined to make something simple for dinner after a long day at work. As you open the fridge and pull out a few ingredients, you hear footsteps behind you.
"Look who’s back," your sister, <<print $sisname>>, says with her usual smirk. "Did the world survive another day of your... *contribution*?"
You don’t turn around, focusing instead on slicing a tomato. "Nice to see you too, <<print $sisname>>."
She leans against the counter, watching you with an eyebrow raised. "Still rocking that ridiculous uniform, huh? I swear, you look like you’re auditioning for a low-budget airline."
"It’s called a job," you snap, slamming the knife down for emphasis. "Not that you’d understand."
Her smirk fades, replaced by a cold glare. "Careful, smart mouth. You might want to remember who does the heavy lifting around here while you’re out playing dress-up."
You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I’m not playing dress-up. I’m working. Earning money. You know, being independent."
She crosses her arms, shaking her head. "Independent? Please. That’s not a man’s job. Wearing scarves and helping people pick out dresses? You’ll be lucky if they don’t fire you by the end of the week."
Her words hit harder than you’d like to admit, but you force yourself to stand tall. "At least I’m trying. What are you doing besides sitting here and criticizing me?"
---
For a moment, there’s silence. Then, her voice drops, cold and sharp. "You really want to play this game? Fine. Let me give you some advice, little brother. The world doesn’t care about you or your excuses. The moment you step out of line, you’re done. You’ve always had a smart mouth, and one day, it’s going to get you in trouble—real trouble. And when that happens, don’t expect me to bail you out."
You meet her gaze, trying not to flinch. "I can handle myself."
She snorts, turning away. "Sure you can. Just don’t come crying to me when reality knocks you flat."
The rest of the meal passes in tense silence. You focus on your plate, refusing to let her words get to you, even though they echo in your mind. For all her harshness, you know there’s a kernel of truth in what she said—but you’re not about to let her see that.
As you clean up the dishes, she throws one last remark over her shoulder. "By the way, that soup was over-salted. But hey, at least you’re consistent."
You bite back a retort, deciding it’s not worth the fight. Tonight, at least, you’ll let her win.
<<set $siblingBond -= 1>>
<<set $time = 23>>
[[Return to your room|Day4 job]]
::Difficult Customer
A woman storms over to your register, a purple off-the-shoulder short dress in hand. Her expression is frustrated, and she slams the dress onto the counter.
"I bought this dress, but it doesn’t fit," she says sharply. "I can’t find anyone on the floor to help me. You’re going to have to help me find a better size."
You glance around—no one else is in sight to assist.
"Fine, I’ll help you," you say, trying to keep your cool. You take the dress from her and lead her to the fitting rooms.
Once there, she sighs, clearly exhausted. "I’m too tired to try it on again. You just need to show me how it fits."
You freeze. **"Wait, what?"** She wants **you** to show her how it fits? The dress is barely large enough for her, and you’re not sure how to handle this. Plus, you’re already wearing panties as part of your uniform—a fact that you really wish you could forget.
<<set $embarrassed = true>> <!-- Variable to track the embarrassment level -->
"Uh, I really don’t think that’s necessary," you stammer. But she smiles at you with a knowing look, clearly amused by your discomfort. "It’s just a simple dress fitting," she laughs.
You glance down at the dress in her hand, then back at her. You’re unsure whether to protest further or just go along with her request, your heart racing with nervousness. It’s only a dress fitting, but why does she want you to wear it? This is so uncomfortable.
"Come on," she coaxes. "You’ll look great in it. I won’t be able to make a decision without seeing it."
Your face burns red. You can feel your pulse quicken at the thought of trying on the dress.
<<set $workAction = "customer">>
[[Refuse to do it]]
[[Go Along with It]]
::Refuse to Do It
"I’m really sorry, but I can’t do that," you say firmly, trying to keep your composure. "I can find you a different size, or we can get a fitting room assistant to help, but I can’t try it on for you."
The customer doesn’t seem pleased by your response. She rolls her eyes, muttering something about unhelpful staff, but ultimately she steps back, defeated.
You attempt to sneak away from the situation, hoping your manager won’t notice, but she catches you just as you’re about to leave the fitting room. "What’s going on here?" she asks, her tone calm but pointed.
You try to explain, but she just raises a hand, dismissing your discomfort. "It’s not a big deal," she says. "Just help her, like we always do. The customer is always right, and they always reward those who assist them well."
Your manager’s calm tone and straightforward demeanor make you feel a bit of relief, though the embarrassment still lingers. "Now, go ahead and show her how it fits," she insists.
With a sigh, you step forward, reluctantly complying with the customer’s request, your cheeks burning with humiliation.
<<set $customerReview = true>> <!-- Positive review for complying -->
<<set $embarrassed = true>> <!-- Increased embarrassment level -->
[[Off we go|go along]]
::Go Along with It
You reluctantly agree, too embarrassed to back out. You try to calm yourself as you slip into the purple off-the-shoulder dress. It’s snug, and you can feel every inch of it as you pull it on.
The customer watches you closely, her smile growing as she sees your discomfort. "See? It fits perfectly," she says. "You look good in it."
Just then, your manager walks in and freezes. "What’s going on here?" she asks, looking from you to the customer.
The customer laughs again, clearly enjoying the awkwardness. "Oh, he’s just showing me how it fits. I couldn’t try it on, but he’s been a great help."
<img src="images/day4/customer.jpg"/>
Your manager gives you a pointed look, but there’s something in her expression—perhaps approval or just a hint of amusement. "Well, the customer is always right," she says. "Good job handling that."
You’re not sure if she means it or if she’s just going along with the situation. Regardless, you feel utterly embarrassed, but you somehow made it through.
<<set $customerReview = true>>
<<set $embarrassed = true>>
<<set $time = 19>>
[[Return to Your Room Day 4|Day4 job]]
You reluctantly agree, too embarrassed to back out. You try to calm yourself as you slip into the purple off-the-shoulder dress. It’s snug, and you can feel every inch of it as you pull it on.
The customer watches you closely, her smile growing as she sees your discomfort. "See? It fits perfectly," she says. "You look good in it."
<img src="images/day4/customer.jpg"/>
Your manager gives you a pointed look, but there’s something in her expression—perhaps approval or just a hint of amusement. "Well, the customer is always right," she says. "Good job handling that."
You’re not sure if she means it or if she’s just going along with the situation. Regardless, you feel utterly embarrassed, but you somehow made it through.
<<set $customerReview = true>>
<<set $embarrassed = true>>
<<set $time = 19>>
[[Return to Your Room Day 4|Day4 job]]
::Sleep
You collapse onto your bed, the weight of the day pressing down on you. Staring at the ceiling, you can’t help but replay your sister’s words in your mind.
*"Not a man’s job."*
*"You won’t last a week."*
Her cutting remarks sting, but they ignite something in you—a spark of defiance. "I’ll show her," you mutter under your breath. "I’ll prove her wrong. I’m not some joke."
Your thoughts drift, exhaustion pulling you toward sleep.
---
<<if $workAction is "coworker">>
You think back to your conversation with Samantha. Her teasing felt different—lighthearted, even encouraging. Unlike your sister, she didn’t tear you down; she saw something in you, even if it was buried under awkwardness.
A small smile creeps onto your face. "Maybe I’m not as hopeless as I thought," you murmur before sleep finally takes you.
<<elseif $workAction is "customer">>
Sleep doesn’t come easily. The events of the day swirl in your mind—the customer’s laughter, the feel of the dress, and your manager’s calm insistence that "the customer is always right."
When you finally drift off, the dream takes shape.
---
You’re back at work, standing in the middle of the sales floor. The bright store lights feel harsher than usual, and everything is too quiet. You glance down and freeze.
You’re wearing *it*.
The purple off-the-shoulder dress clings awkwardly to your frame, the hem just barely covering your knees. You feel the eyes of an invisible crowd boring into you, though no one’s around—at first.
Suddenly, customers begin to appear, materializing from behind racks and shelves. They’re all looking at you, whispering and pointing. One of them claps, and soon the entire store erupts in applause.
"Look at him!" one customer shouts, laughing.
"Such confidence!" another one adds, snapping pictures with their phone.
Your cheeks burn as you try to move, but your feet feel glued to the floor.
---
Then you hear her voice.
The customer from earlier steps forward, grinning as she holds up another dress—this one even frillier, with bright pink ruffles. "Well? Aren’t you going to try this one on too?"
The crowd cheers, chanting, "Do it! Do it!"
Before you can protest, your manager appears beside you, her calm expression as unreadable as ever. "Well, you heard them," she says, handing you the dress. "The customer is always right."
You stumble backward, clutching the dress, but there’s nowhere to go. The crowd closes in, their laughter growing louder and louder until it’s deafening.
---
You wake with a start, heart pounding and drenched in sweat. It takes a moment to remember where you are.
"Just a dream," you mutter to yourself, wiping your brow. But as you lie back down, you can still hear the faint echo of laughter in your mind. Sleep finally takes you again, though it’s restless and filled with fragmented images of purple fabric and camera flashes.
<<else>>
Your mind drifts aimlessly, caught between the frustration of the day and the uncertainty of tomorrow. You try to focus on proving your sister wrong, holding onto that thought as your eyelids grow heavy.
<</if>>
---
When morning comes, sunlight streams through your window, and a new day awaits. It’s time to show the world what you’re capable of.
<<set $time = 6>>
<<set $day = 5>>
[[Wake up|Your Room Day 5]]
<img src="images/day2/bedroom.jpg"/>
<<if $day is undefined>> <!-- Ensure $day is initialized -->
<<set $day = 5>> <!-- Set to Day 5 -->
<</if>>
<<if $time is undefined>> <!-- Ensure $time is initialized -->
<<set $time = 6>> <!-- Start the day at 6:00 AM -->
<</if>>
<<if $workAction is undefined>> <!-- Ensure $workAction is initialized -->
<<set $workAction = "none">> <!-- Reset $workAction -->
<</if>>
You wake up feeling refreshed, though your thoughts drift back to yesterday.
<<if $workAction is "coworker">>
You remember your chat with Samantha. Her teasing and encouragement stuck with you, but today’s another chance to focus on something else.
<</if>>
<<if $workAction is "customer">>
The memory of the customer and that purple dress flashes in your mind. You shake your head, determined to avoid more awkward situations today.
<</if>>
The time is <<print $time>>:00. What would you like to do?
<<if $time gte 6 and $time lt 12>> <!-- Morning -->
- [[Have Breakfast day 5]]
- [[Relax in Bed day 5]]
<<elseif $time gte 12 and $time lt 17>> <!-- Afternoon -->
[[Go to Work Day 5]]
<<elseif $time gte 17 and $time lt 22>> <!-- Evening -->
- [[Prepare Dinner day 5]]
- [[Play Games]]
<<elseif $time gte 22 or $time lt 6>> <!-- Night -->
- [[Sleep Day 5]]
<</if>>
You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling as the quiet hum of the night fills the room. The events of the day swirl in your mind like the soft echoes of a distant melody.
Your conversation with Samantha earlier comes to the forefront. There was something about the way she spoke—her voice light, her laughter warm. She made the usual monotony of work feel... different. She had a way of making you forget the awkwardness of your uniform, her teasing always kind and never cruel.
You can’t help but replay one moment in particular: when she leaned in slightly, her red hair catching the light, and said, “You know, you’re more capable than you give yourself credit for.” It wasn’t much, but coming from her, it felt like a small victory—a moment you secretly cherish, even if you’d never admit it out loud.
Dinner was pleasant, too. Calling your best friend had been a great decision. They always knew how to make you laugh, even when recounting their own embarrassing stories. The memory of their exaggerated tale about sneaking into a frat party in drag makes you smile all over again.
The plans to meet them on Sunday bring a small sense of anticipation. It’ll be good to catch up properly, to spend a day free from work, your sister’s antics, and the pressure of constantly trying to prove yourself.
For a moment, you think about how rare it is to have a day where everything feels calm—pleasant, even. No pranks, no awkward encounters, just good company and simple joys. As your eyelids grow heavy, you let yourself hold onto that thought, a faint smile playing at your lips.
“Maybe things are looking up,” you murmur to yourself, the words drifting off as you slip into sleep.
[[Your Room Day 6]]
<img src="images/store.webp"/>
You arrive at your job. It’s your second day, and your manager, <<print $managername>>, greets you with a list of tasks.
<<if $salesjob>>
"Today, you'll be on the register. Let me know if you need help," your manager says.
<</if>>
As the day progresses, you head for lunch:
[[Lunch]]
It’s a quiet Friday night. Your sister is out with friends, leaving you home alone for the evening. After a long week at work, you’re ready for some peace and quiet. You throw together a quick dinner and settle down at the kitchen table, but as you sit there, your mind drifts to the events of the past few days.
The awkward customer interaction, the unexpected bob cut, and, of course, Samantha. You sigh, realizing that despite the weirdness of it all, things are starting to feel... different. Maybe you could get used to this job, after all.
You grab your phone and call your best friend, hoping for some much-needed distraction.
"Yo, what’s up?" your friend picks up on the second ring.
"Hey, man," you reply, leaning back in your chair. "Not much, just a quiet night. Wanted to catch up."
"Sounds like you need a little excitement, huh?" your friend teases.
"Yeah, I guess," you say, chuckling. "Work’s been... interesting. Still getting used to everything."
Your friend laughs. "Yeah, I bet. So, how’s the new job going? Are you surviving the uniform, or what?"
You roll your eyes. "Surviving, barely. I swear, every time I look in the mirror, I feel like I’m about to give a flight attendant announcement. But hey, I’m getting used to it."
Your friend laughs out loud. "Dude, that’s hilarious. You’re probably the most stylish air steward in the whole place. But seriously, how’s it going with the coworkers? You mentioned a girl, Samantha, right?"
A smirk crosses your face as you recall your conversation with Samantha. "Yeah, Samantha. She’s... well, she’s a hottie, honestly. Always teasing me, though. Thinks it’s funny to watch me squirm in this ridiculous dress."
Your friend chuckles. "Ah, I see how it is. You got a crush, huh?"
You scoff, though there’s a hint of truth to the tease. "No, no, nothing like that. She’s just—"
Before you can finish your sentence, your friend cuts in. "Dude, come on. You’re telling me you don’t have a crush on her? She sounds like a total catch. Plus, she’s obviously got a thing for you if she’s all over your ass."
"Alright, alright," you admit with a laugh. "She’s cool, okay? She’s funny, but I’m still figuring this job out."
Your friend sighs dramatically. "Well, I guess I’ll just have to live with the fact that you’re too shy to make a move on the ‘hottie.’ But hey, while we’re on the topic of embarrassing work stories, let me tell you something. You think your job is weird? Wait till you hear this."
You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "What’s up?"
Your friend laughs nervously. "Okay, okay, don’t judge me. You know how I’m always up for a challenge, right? Well, one time I did *drag* for a frat initiation. Yeah, you heard me. Full-on dress, makeup, heels, the works. I thought I was going to die. I ended up tripping over the heels and falling straight into a table of punch. Let me tell you, that was not how I envisioned getting into a frat."
You burst out laughing, nearly spilling your drink. "No way, man. You, in a dress? That’s gold. I bet you looked... stunning."
"Shut up," your friend groans. "It was a disaster. I’m never doing that again. But hey, I made it into the frat, so it worked. At least I can say I’ve got the courage to pull off anything now."
You both laugh for a few moments, and the conversation shifts to more casual topics. But as you wind down, you feel a little lighter, the stress of the week slowly fading.
"Alright," you say after a while, "enough about me and my embarrassing job. What are you up to this weekend?"
Your friend sounds a little more serious. "I was thinking, how about we hang out on Sunday? Meet me at the mall, we can grab lunch, maybe go shopping, and just chill."
You smile, happy for the plan. "Sounds good to me. I could use some time to unwind."
"Great," your friend says. "It’s a date then. Sunday, the mall. Don’t be late."
You hang up the phone, feeling much better about the week. Tomorrow’s another workday, but now you have plans to look forward to. A new job, a new style, and some time with your best friend—things are looking up.
<<set $time = 22>>
[[Return to your room|Your Room Day 5]]
You head to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The smell of toast and coffee fills the air as you sit down for a quiet meal. It’s a small moment of peace before the rest of the day unfolds.
Your thoughts wander to the day ahead, and you can't help but think about your manager, <<print $managername>>. Their stern but fair attitude makes you wonder if they see any potential in you—or if they just tolerate you.
You remember the visual of you red faced in the store wearing the purple dress, you feel a tinge of excitement remebering how the dress felt and sight of you in the mirror.
You finish up and clean your dishes.
<<set $time = 12>>
[[Return to your room|Your Room Day 5]]You flop back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft comfort of your mattress feels like a safe space to escape from the chaos of your life.
Your thoughts wander to the day ahead, and you can't help but think about your manager, <<print $managername>>. Their stern but fair attitude makes you wonder if they see any potential in you—or if they just tolerate you.
You remember the visual of you red faced in the store wearing the purple dress, you feel a tinge of excitement remebering how the dress felt and sight of you in the mirror.
Then there's your sister, <<print $sisname>>. The memory of her sharp remarks lingers, and you feel the familiar frustration bubble up. Why does she always seem to get under your skin?
You sigh, letting the weight of your thoughts pull you deeper into the bed's embrace.
<<set $time = 12>>
[[Return to your room||Your Room Day 5]]You head to the break room for your shift break, letting out a long sigh of relief. Sitting at the table, scrolling through her phone, is Samantha—your coworker who’s been here a lot longer than you. She glances up and gives you a playful smirk.
"Rough day already?" she asks, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. Her tone is casual, but her eyes show the sharp focus of someone who takes her job seriously.
You nod. "You could say that. Between a demanding customer and my own clumsiness, I’m doing great," you add, sarcasm dripping from your voice.
<img src="images/day5/chat.webp"/>
Samantha chuckles and leans forward, resting her chin on her palm. "Yeah, it can be a lot at first. But hey, at least you’ve got the uniform nailed. I mean, those pants are practically iconic."
You glance down at your uniform—a pair of snug, bootcut pants, a fitted top, and a scarf that you’re pretty sure was designed as part of a flight attendant costume. "Iconic? I feel like I’m one bad step away from being a meme."
She laughs harder this time, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Oh, come on. You pull it off! It’s got a certain... charm. Very avant-garde," she says, making a dramatic gesture as though appraising a work of art.
You groan, shaking your head. "Glad my humiliation is so entertaining."
"Relax, I’m just messing with you," Samantha says, smiling warmly. "But seriously, you’re doing fine. Everyone has a tough time with the uniform at first. I mean, I’ve seen people trip over their own scarves—true story."
"Good to know I’m part of a proud tradition," you reply, finally cracking a smile.
Samantha leans back in her chair, her expression softening. "You know, you’ve got a good heart. Even when you’re flailing around out there, it’s obvious you’re trying. That counts for something in this place."
You blink, caught off guard by the compliment. "Thanks. I think."
She grins. "Don’t let it go to your head. Now, if you want to survive here, you just need two things: a sense of humor and a lot of caffeine."
"I’ll work on the caffeine part," you say. "The sense of humor seems to be your department."
Samantha laughs again, standing up as her break timer beeps. "We make a good team, then. Hang in there, newbie. I’ve got your back."
She gives you a playful wave as she heads out, leaving you with a smile on your face. Maybe this job isn’t so bad after all.
<<set $workAction = "coworker">>
<<set $bondWithSamantha += 1>> <!-- Increases relationship points -->
<<set $time = 19>> <!-- Progress time -->
[[Return to your room|Your Room Day 5]]
::Your Room Day 6 - Morning
<img src="images/day2/bedroom.jpg"/>
You’re rudely awakened by the sound of your sister, <<print $sisname>>, bursting into your room with no warning. You groggily lift your head from the pillow, barely registering what’s happening as she stands at the door holding a pink apron.
"Wake up, sleepyhead!" she says cheerfully, clearly enjoying the moment. "It’s time to *help* around the house."
You rub your eyes and groan. "What time is it? It’s too early for this."
"It’s already 9 AM," she replies, her tone unwavering. "And you’ve got a job to do. I’m not doing all the work here, you know. Now, put this on."
She tosses the pink apron onto your bed, and you look at it, half-amused and half-annoyed. "Really? You want me to wear *that*?"
"Yes," she says, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. "You’re going to clean the house today, and you’re going to do it in style. Now, get up bitch"
You sit up in bed, still half-asleep, staring at the apron. You feel a wave of annoyance rise in your chest, but there’s also a part of you that wonders if it’s worth arguing over something so trivial.
[[Comply and wear the apron|Cleaning with Sister]]
[[Deny and stand your ground|Refusing the Request]]
::Cleaning with Sister
You begrudgingly get up from your bed and grab the pink apron. It’s as embarrassing as you thought, but you know better than to argue with your sister. You put it on and head downstairs to start the cleaning.
She watches you from the doorway, her smirk widening. "Good choice," she says sarcastically. "I knew you’d see sense."
You roll your eyes but don’t respond. Instead, you get to work, moving through the house and tidying up. The chores aren’t difficult, but they feel like an endless task. You wash the dishes, sweep the floors, dust the surfaces—each job more tedious than the last.
Your sister occasionally pops into the room, offering half-hearted praise or sarcastic comments, always watching from a distance as you do the heavy lifting.
"Looking good in that apron," she teases once, snapping a picture with her phone when she thinks you’re not paying attention. You ignore her, focusing on scrubbing the kitchen counter.
After a couple of hours of cleaning, you decide to take a break. Your legs ache, and the afternoon sun streaming through the window beckons you to relax.
You sit down on the couch with a sigh, wiping your brow. Just as you start to unwind, your sister walks into the living room, half-smiling.
"Well, well, look who’s still alive after all that work," she says, her tone a little more genuine now. "I guess you’re not *completely useless* after all."
You smirk, but say nothing. You feel like you deserve a break after the endless tasks.
She sits down next to you, crossing her arms. "Now that you’re done being my personal maid, I’ve got an offer for you."
You raise an eyebrow. "What’s that?"
She glances at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, since you’ve been such a good little helper today, I was thinking—how about you come with me to the stylist? You know, to get some clothes. It’s time for you to upgrade that wardrobe. Trust me, you’ll need a little help if you want to keep working with that ridiculous job of yours."
You’re caught off guard by her suggestion. "Wait, what? You want me to go with you to a stylist?"
She nods, a knowing look on her face. "Exactly. Or, you can help me sort through my wardrobe. I need to make room for new clothes anyway, and I’m not in the mood to do it alone. Either way, I’ll get you a better look. No more of that *uniform* nonsense."
You pause, considering the options. On one hand, going to the stylist with her seems like a way to at least get some fashion advice. On the other, sorting through her wardrobe is more of the same—more work for you.
---
[[Go with her to the stylist|Stylist Adventure]]
[[Sort her wardrobe instead|Sorting Wardrobe]]You sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes, still not fully awake. Your sister stands in the doorway holding the pink apron, grinning at you like she’s already won.
"Get up, lazy," she says. "Time to clean the house."
You squint at her and shake your head. "No way. I’m not cleaning today. I’ve done enough for you already."
Her smile falters for a second, but she quickly recovers, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at you. "Oh? You’re refusing, huh?"
"That’s right," you reply, feeling a bit more confident now. "I’m not wearing that apron, and I’m not cleaning. Not today."
She stands there silently for a moment, as if calculating her next move. Then, her lips curl into a mischievous grin. "Well, if you’re going to refuse, I guess I’ll just have to find another way to make you follow my demands."
You raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Simple," she says, stepping closer. "I propose a bet. *Tekken 8*."
You blink, a little surprised at her sudden suggestion. "A bet? Seriously?"
She smirks. "Yep. You’ve lost to me before, and now you get to prove yourself. If you win, I’ll let you off the hook for today’s chores. No cleaning, no annoying requests, not even rent for the week. But if you lose... you’ll do whatever I say today"
You pause for a moment. You’ve played *Tekken 8* countless times before, and you’re confident you can beat her. Plus, if you win, you’ll avoid the dreaded chores and no rent. It’s a no-brainer.
"I’ll take the bet," you say with a smirk. "I’ll beat you, and I’ll keep my money."
Your sister laughs, clearly entertained by your bravado. "Alright, alright. Let’s see if you’re any good baby boy. But don’t get too cocky, or you might end up doing more than just chores."
She grabs the game controller, and you follow her to the living room, already mentally preparing for the match. You’re determined to win, but deep down, you know your sister’s tricks, and you’re ready for whatever comes next.
[[Game On]]ou settle into the couch, gripping the controller with confidence. Your sister sits beside you, her grin a mixture of mischief and determination. The Tekken 8 menu glows on the screen, the character roster spinning with possibilities. You pick your main fighter, someone you’ve perfected moves with over countless matches. She, however, casually selects hers, as if she doesn’t need to try.
The match begins.
In the first round, you dominate. Your combos land perfectly, and your character moves like a well-oiled machine. The words “Round One: You Win!” flash across the screen, and you can’t resist throwing a smug glance her way.
"That’s one for me," you say, leaning back slightly.
She shrugs, still grinning. "Don’t get too comfortable."
The second round starts, and something feels... different. She’s playing more aggressively, predicting your moves before you even execute them. Her character weaves around your attacks, punishing every missed hit with devastating counters. You fumble, and soon, “Round Two: You Lose!” flashes on the screen.
"Alright," you say, shaking your head. "Lucky round."
She chuckles. "Sure, sure."
The final round begins, and your nerves kick in. You go for a risky opener, but she blocks it effortlessly and retaliates with a crushing combo. You try to regain your footing, but her onslaught is relentless. The crowd in the game chants as her character lands a special move, draining your health bar to nearly nothing. You manage to recover slightly, landing a few hits, but it’s too late.
Her character delivers the final blow, and the screen erupts with “K.O.! Player Two Wins!”
She throws her arms up in victory, laughing triumphantly. "And that’s how it’s done!"
You stare at the screen, mouth slightly open, your confidence shattered. "No way. I should’ve had that."
[[She looks at you with a wicked smile]]
Your sister leans back on the couch, crossing her arms triumphantly. "Face it," she says, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. "You never stood a chance. I’ve been training for this day."
You roll your eyes, still staring at the screen. "Training? You just button-mash half the time."
She gasps theatrically. "Button-mash? How dare you insult my skills! That wasn’t luck—that was pure talent."
You shake your head, still trying to process how you lost. "Whatever. What now? Gloating for the rest of the week?"
Her wicked smile grows, and you suddenly regret your question. "Oh, I’ve got something better than gloating," she says, standing up. "Remember the deal? Loser does what the winner says for the week. And I already have the perfect task in mind."
You groan, sinking further into the couch. "I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?"
She disappears into her room, returning moments later with a hanger draped with clothes. A light, breezy summer dress in a soft floral print is paired with a cropped denim jacket.
"You’re wearing this," she announces with a grin.
You stare at the clothes in disbelief. "No way. Absolutely not."
"Oh, but it gets better," she says, her grin widening. "You’re going to wear this on a date."
Your heart skips a beat. "A date? What are you talking about?"
She tosses the clothes onto your lap with a dramatic flair. "Remember my Tinder profile? I set up a date for myself tonight. But I’ve been so busy, and I think the guy is a fucking loser, anyway since you’re such a good little boy and you lost the bet you’re going to go in my place."
You can only gape at her. "You’re insane."
She shrugs. "Maybe. But hey, a bet’s a bet. maybe you will get lucky and loose your virginity, and unless you want to live in the streets, I suggest we get ready."
[[Reluctantly agree and get dressed|Tinder Date Prank Begins]]
[[Try to refuse and stand your ground|Refusal Consequences]]Your sister stands in front of you, hands on her hips, surveying her “work.” She grins, clearly pleased with herself as she circles around you, examining the look she's created.
"Perfect!" she announces with an exaggerated tone. "You look fabulous. Not quite the usual you, but still, I think you can pull it off."
You stand there, trying to keep your composure, your face flushed with embarrassment. The summer dress clings a little too perfectly, and the cropped denim jacket only adds to the feeling of discomfort. She’s styled your hair a bit more neatly than you’d normally do, and the light makeup—blush, eyeliner, a bit of lipstick—feels unnatural on your face, but it’s not overdone. Just enough to make you feel like a completely different person.
"You look great," she teases, snapping a picture on her phone. "Better than I expected. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get some attention tonight."
You can’t help but roll your eyes, but her grin only widens. "Oh, don’t be so modest. You’ve got this."
She pulls out her phone again and begins snapping more pictures, clicking away with no mercy. “Smile for the camera, you look adorable."
You groan, trying to resist the urge to swipe the phone from her hands. "Can we please just get this over with?"
"Of course!" she says sweetly, still clicking away. "Just a few more... maybe one with you holding the purse." She hands you a small pink purse, which you reluctantly take, holding it awkwardly in front of you.
You glance at yourself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the person staring back. It feels so strange, and the weight of the situation sinks in even more. How did you let yourself get into this? The photos feel like evidence of some grand scheme she’s planned just to humiliate you.
“Alright, now you’re really ready,” she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she looks at the photos. “Now let’s get you to your date.”
[[Let's go]]You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the prank settle around you. As your sister grins, clearly savoring her victory, you decide you’re not going to take this lying down.
"Wait a minute," you say, taking a step forward. "This has gone far enough. I’m not doing it. I don’t care about the bet or whatever. You’ve gone too far this time."
Your sister stops grinning, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden attempt to stand your ground. "Oh, really?" she says, the playful edge still in her voice. "You’re not going to wear the dress, huh?"
Desperate, you walk away, trying to escape the whole situation. But your sister is quick to chase after you.
"You think you can just leave?" she says, grabbing your arm and pulling you back toward the changing room. "Where do you think you’re going? You don’t get to back out. You have to finish what you started."
She doesn’t let go of you, dragging you back, her grip firm and her voice full of command. "You’ll wear the dress, and you’ll finish the bet. And if you don’t, I’ll make sure you regret it."
She’s relentless, and no matter how much you try to resist, you find yourself being forced into the dress anyway, her control over the situation becoming irrefutable.
[[She quickly begins to work on you|Tinder Date Prank Begins]]Dropping You Off at the Date
Your sister pulls up to the café, a place that looks cozy and calm, with soft lights shining through the windows. She glances over at you with a wicked smile as you fidget nervously in your seat.
"Alright, here we are," she says, her voice almost sing-song as she turns off the engine. "You’re gonna do great, just act like you’re having a blast, okay?"
You give her a nervous look, still holding the pink purse awkwardly. "I don’t even know what I’m doing here."
She raises an eyebrow. "Well, figure it out, hot stuff. Now go. Don’t keep your date waiting."
You step out of the car, heart pounding. The guy she mentioned is supposed to be here, right? You glance around the outside of the café, looking for him, when your sister waves toward a guy sitting alone at one of the tables by the window. He’s wearing a hoodie and has a somewhat casual look, but there’s something about him that makes you feel even more self-conscious.
"That’s him," she says through the rolled-down window, giving you a thumbs-up. "Good luck, cutie!"
You hesitate for a moment, staring at the guy. It feels surreal, but you muster all your strength and walk into the café, trying your best to keep your posture confident despite the absurdity of the situation.
[[WTH am I doing]]As you step inside, the warm scent of coffee and pastries fills the air. You take a deep breath and approach the guy sitting by the window, your heels clicking softly on the floor. You try to act casual, but every step feels like a thousand-pound weight on your shoulders.
When you reach the table, you clear your throat, trying to muster up some confidence. "Hi, I’m... uh... here for the date?"
The guy looks up from his phone, his expression confused for a moment. His gaze flickers between you and his screen, then he furrows his brow. "Uh, sorry... do I know you?"
You blink, unsure if you’ve misheard him. "Wait, what? You were—weren’t you—"
He shakes his head. "No, I’m not meeting anyone. I’m just here by myself."
The confusion floods through you, and for a moment, you stand there frozen, not sure whether to laugh or cry. You glance around the café, realizing there’s no sign of the date, and you begin to panic.
You sit down on a chair at a nearby emprty table, pull out your phone, dialing your sister’s number with shaky hands. The phone rings once... twice... and then she picks up.
<img src="images/day6/restaurent.webp"/>
"Hey, dumbass," she says, her voice dripping with amusement. "What’s up?"
"You—what’s going on? The guy isn’t here. He’s not even waiting for anyone!" You nearly shout, but your voice cracks from the shock.
She bursts into laughter on the other end. "Oh, you poor thing. There was no date. That was all a prank. You’re the one who lost, remember? It’s time to strut back home—en femme."
You sit there, absolutely dumbfounded, staring at the guy who’s still looking at you with confusion from the other table. You try to make sense of the situation, but your sister’s words sink in, and you realize you’ve been set up from the start.
"So," she adds, still laughing. "Now walk back across town, in that dress—and take your sweet time, sissy boy. Show off to the town, what a sexy babe you are. It’s a long walk home bitch and you're gonna enjoy every second of it."
You’re left siting stunned there in the middle of the café, with the pink purse, completely unsure how to respond to the mocking tone in her voice. The guy, still confused, awkwardly looks away and goes back to his phone.
[[Walk of shame]]
You stand there, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your shoulders. Your sister’s laughter echoes in your mind, her words burning with humiliation. She set you up, tricked you into thinking there was a date, all so she could enjoy this moment of control. And now, here you are—dressed up in a summer dress, holding a pink purse, and facing the harsh reality of walking across town en femme.
The guy at the table doesn’t even seem to care. He’s back to his phone, completely unaware of the ridiculousness of the situation. For a second, you think about storming out, about running away from it all. But the phone call is a reminder that you can’t escape. Not this time.
You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. You glance at the door, then back at the guy, whose confusion is the least of your worries now. You can’t take it back—there’s no backing out.
Your feet move reluctantly toward the door, the heels clicking louder with each step as you walk out of the café and onto the sidewalk. The world feels like it’s watching you, even though you know it’s probably just your mind playing tricks. But every step feels like a loud proclamation of your defeat.
You walk past the café, trying to keep your head held high, but it’s hard. You can’t help but notice people staring. Whispers, sideways glances, and the occasional snicker make you feel like you’re under a spotlight. Every part of you screams to run, but you know that’s not an option. Your sister’s words are still fresh in your mind: "Show off to the town, what a sexy babe you are."
The walk feels endless, and each step grows heavier than the last. You pass by stores, cafes, and people you vaguely recognize, each one of them stealing a glance as you move along the street. You feel like a fish in a tank, swimming in circles, and there’s no escape from the prying eyes.
You can feel the weight of the pink purse on your arm, its strap digging into your skin, as if mocking your defeat. You adjust your stance, trying to look more confident, but it’s difficult to do so when you’re trying not to draw attention to the fact that you're wearing a summer dress and holding a purse.
With every step, the humiliation digs deeper. But there’s no turning back now. You just have to get home. The thought of returning to the sanctuary of your room gives you a sliver of hope—just make it through this walk and you can close the door behind you.
The worst part is, your sister’s voice is still in your head, taunting you with each step. "It’s a long walk home, bitch, and you're gonna enjoy every second of it."
But you’re not sure how much more of it you can take.
[[Finally you home]]As you stand there, trembling with rage and humiliation, your sister watches you with an almost predatory grin. You pull out your phone, desperately trying to call your mom, hoping she’ll back you up, but your sister is already one step ahead.
She strides over to you, blocking your view of the screen, her cold eyes narrowing. "You think calling Mom will solve this?" she says, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You think I’m going to let you get away with trying to escape?"
You try to push past her, but she’s too fast, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back.
"I’ve got all the leverage I need," she continues, her smile growing darker. "Remember all those pictures I took of you today? The ones where you looked so cute in that apron? The ones where you were so helpless in that dress? I’ve got all of them."
Your heart sinks, and you try to pull your phone away, but she’s already holding it in her hand, swiping through the photos with a smug expression. "You see," she says, flipping through the pictures, each one more humiliating than the last, "these are my cards to play. And if you think Mom is going to help you, you’re wrong."
The cold reality hits you. She has proof—all the moments of humiliation, all the things that make you feel like a complete fool. And she’s not afraid to use them.
She steps closer, her voice low and taunting. "What do you think is going to happen when I send these to everyone? Your friends, your coworkers? Maybe even Mom, if I’m feeling generous. Do you think she’ll take your side when she sees these?"
You stand there, completely powerless, as the gravity of your sister’s control sinks in. You were never in charge, never in control of your own fate. The photos, the videos, the endless mocking—she’s been collecting it all, ready to use whenever she wants to remind you who’s really in charge.
"Go ahead, try to call her," she says, holding the phone up in front of your face. "But just know, if you keep fighting me, it’s these that I’ll show everyone. You’ll be the joke, the one they all laugh at. Every single person you know will see just how pathetic you really are."
"You’ve always been weak," she sneers. "I did this because I wanted to see how far I could push you. And you know what? You just proved how pathetic you really are. You let me control you, every step of the way."
You’re stunned, unable to move as she steps closer. "You think this is over? It’s just beginning. I’m not done with you yet. You’ll never be more than my little puppet."
[[In shock and hopless you rush to your room]] You and your sister arrive at the stylist's shop, the air inside is fresh and filled with the scent of freshly ironed clothes and fashion magazines. The stylist greets you both warmly as you step inside, and it’s immediately clear this place is all about making people look stylish.
Your sister eagerly browses through the clothes, while you try to hide in the corner, avoiding the spotlight as much as possible. It’s hard not to feel self-conscious surrounded by all these fancy outfits—none of which seem to fit your usual style.
After some time, your sister approaches with an outfit in her hands, clearly excited. The summer dress, in a soft floral print, paired with a cropped denim jacket, is definitely a bold choice for you. You can already feel the awkwardness building up as she steps toward you with the outfit, a wicked grin on her face.
"This would look gorgeous on you," she says to you, almost with a sense of pride in her voice. She’s holding the dress up, and the stylist nods along in agreement.
You’re at a loss for words. The stylist is already nodding approvingly. "This look would be great for you. You could really pull it off."
Your face reddens, and you try to shake your head, barely able to speak. "Wait, but I’m... I’m a man!"
Your sister chuckles, enjoying every second of your discomfort. "Oh, don’t be shy! You’ve got the perfect figure for it, and this would be a huge upgrade from your usual uniform."
The stylist chimes in. "Absolutely, he could wear this so well."
You feel the ground shift beneath your feet, the embarrassment mounting as you try to think of something to say, anything to get out of this. But before you can protest further, your sister’s mischievous grin grows even wider. "Alright, how about this: if you lose a little competition today, I’ll have you wear this outfit—and I’ll send you on that Tinder date you were so worried about."
You blink, realizing what she’s suggesting. "Wait, you can’t be serious."
"Oh, but I am!" she says, practically jumping up and down with excitement. "We’ll head to the arcade in the mall. A few rounds of games, and if you lose, you’ll wear this outfit and go on that date. It’ll be a great way for you to prove your manliness."
You swallow, the challenge hanging in the air. On one hand, you don’t want to wear the outfit at all, and you definitely don’t want to go on the Tinder date. But there’s a part of you that refuses to back down, especially when it’s a challenge to prove your manliness.
"Fine!" you say, standing a little straighter, trying to keep your voice steady. "I’ll do it. I won’t lose."
[[To the arcade]]You and your sister have spent the better part of the morning going through her overflowing wardrobe. Clothes are scattered all over the floor, and you're slowly losing your patience. You’ve been folding her ridiculous pile of clothes for what feels like hours, and it doesn’t seem to be getting any smaller.
"This is the worst," you mutter under your breath, folding yet another pair of jeans. "Why don’t you ever do this yourself?"
She grins, clearly enjoying watching you work. "Because I have you to do it for me, obviously," she replies, her voice full of mock sweetness. "And besides, you need to *earn* your keep around here."
You roll your eyes. "You’re lucky I’m not charging you for this, you know."
She pauses, glancing over at you with that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. "Actually, that gives me an idea," she says, leaning back against the bed with a playful smile. "Let’s make this more interesting."
You look up at her cautiously. "What are you thinking now?"
She grins wider. "Let’s make a bet. If you can beat me in *Tekken 8*, I’ll waive your rent for this week. No chores, no annoying requests... nothing."
You pause, considering the idea. "And if I lose?"
Her grin only widens. "If you lose, you’ll do whatever I ask for the day. I’ll come up with something extra fun for you."
You frown, clearly weighing the risks. "That sounds like a terrible deal. What if I lose?"
She shrugs, clearly confident. "You scared of losing to a girl. A little competition never hurt anyone."
You glance over at the video game console, your sister’s smug expression growing as she picks up the controller. "You really think you can beat me?"
"I *know* I can beat you," she replies, throwing down the challenge with a laugh. "But, hey, if you win, I’ll let you off the hook for the week. But if I win, well... let's just say you won’t get to escape your duties *that* easily."
[[Game On]]Your sister leads the way as you both head to the mall arcade, her grin practically glowing with excitement. The lights from the machines flash brightly, and the buzz of competition fills the air as you walk past rows of arcade cabinets, from racing games to air hockey. Your sister wastes no time, dragging you over to the first challenge: the punching machine.
"This is where we’ll start," she says, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Let’s see how strong you are, big guy."
You roll up your sleeves, trying to muster every ounce of confidence you have. You walk up to the machine, positioning yourself in front of it, cracking your knuckles, and preparing for your best shot. When the light turns green, you swing your fist at the pad, delivering your hardest punch.
The score pops up, and your heart sinks. It’s not nearly as high as you expected.
Your sister laughs, stepping up next. She takes the same swing and—BAM—hits the target harder than you ever thought possible, her score exceeding yours by a long shot.
"Looks like you’ve lost the first round," she teases, her voice dripping with playful cruelty. "Ready for the next?"
The Next Challenges: Bowling and Air Hockey
You shake off the punching machine defeat and move on to the next game: bowling. Your sister knocks down almost all the pins with her first try, while you barely manage to hit half. You can feel the embarrassment creeping up your spine, but you force yourself to keep going.
Then it’s onto air hockey, and while you try your hardest to focus, your sister’s quick reflexes and aggressive gameplay leave you with no chance. Before you know it, the puck flies past you one last time, and you hear the triumphant sound of your sister’s victory.
Outcome:
You’ve lost the challenge—all three rounds. Your sister stands there, hands on her hips, grinning like a victorious queen.
"Well," she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction, "looks like you’re all mine now."
You can feel your face burning with humiliation as you realize that she’s going to dress you up in the summer dress and send you to the Tinder date. The prank is finally coming to fruition, and there’s no turning back now.
She takes you to the stylist
[[They quickly begins to work on you|Tinder Date Prank Begins]]
[[Try to refuse and stand your ground|Refusal Consequences]]In a haze of anger and humiliation, you rush to your room, heart pounding in your chest. The words your sister just said echo in your head, each one more cutting than the last. You slam the door behind you, trying to escape the suffocating reality of her control over your life.
You throw yourself onto your bed, face buried in your hands, the tears threatening to spill, but you don’t let them. Not yet. You clench your fists, the anger boiling inside you. How did it get to this point?
The pictures. The videos. All of it. She has everything.
Your mind races as you replay every moment: how you let her push you into this humiliating situation, how you were helpless at every turn, how she made you feel small. She’s had control over you this entire time, and now, it feels like there’s no escape.
You can still hear her voice in your head, that cruel, mocking tone. "You’ll never be more than my little puppet."
You feel the weight of the shame, the anger, and the betrayal crushing you. You never had control—not when she forced you into that ridiculous dress, not when she humiliated you in front of everyone, not even now, as you sit in your room feeling utterly defeated.
Your thoughts swirl. You could try to fight back, but how? She’s already outsmarted you at every turn. How could you ever stand up to someone who knows your weaknesses so well?
The longer you sit in your room, the heavier the realization becomes. Your sister doesn’t care. She enjoys watching you squirm. To her, this was never a prank—it was a game. And you were the pawn.
You glance at your phone, still clutched in your hand, but it feels like a lifeline that’s been cut. You want to call someone, but you know it won’t help. What can you say? Who would believe you? Your sister has manipulated everyone around you into thinking she’s the innocent one. Even Mom wouldn’t understand the full extent of it.
The weight of your isolation sinks in. You can’t even find solace in your own family anymore. You’re stuck, alone with your shame and frustration.
[[You drift to sleep]]You groggily wake up, the soft sunlight filtering through your window. The moment you open your eyes, you feel the weight of the night before still lingering. The soft fabric of the summer dress clings to your skin, and for a moment, you wonder if it was all a nightmare.
<img src="images/day7/moring.jpeg"/>
But the reality hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re still wearing it. You’re still trapped in the humiliation. Your sister’s cruel prank lingers in every fiber of your being, and the realization crashes over you again. You want to rip the dress off, but something holds you back. Fear? Shame? The need to avoid another confrontation with your sister?
You sit up, rubbing your eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion and anger. The night was a blur of humiliation, and the morning is no better. You try to push the thoughts of your sister’s mockery out of your mind, but they linger like a shadow in the corner of the room.
Your phone suddenly buzzes on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. It's your best friend. You haven’t seen them in a while, and you remember that two days ago you made plans to meet them at the mall today.
[[Pick up the phone]]
[[turn the phone off]]You pick up the phone.
Despite all the lingering embaressment from last night, you tell your best friend that you are still on for the mall.
You get in the shower and ready for the mall
[[head to the mall]]
The $playername stares at his phone for a long moment, the screen still glowing with the missed call from his best friend. His thumb hovers over the screen, but instead of calling back, he presses the power button, shutting it off completely. He can't face anyone right now. Not after everything that happened yesterday. Not after... that.
The weight of the humiliation bears down on him, heavier than anything he's felt before. His legs feel like they could give out any second, but instead, he drags himself to the bathroom. He locks the door behind him, leans against it, and slides down to the cold tile floor. His mind replays the scenes at the café, the laughter in his sister’s voice, the stares of strangers. It's as if the shame is stitched into his very skin, and no amount of scrubbing will ever make it go away.
He forces himself to get up and turn on the shower. The water scalds his skin, but he welcomes the pain, hoping it can wash away the memories of the dress, the makeup, and the cruel joke that unraveled his last shred of dignity. He scrubs harder than necessary, as if erasing the events of the day before requires physical effort.
When he steps out, the steam clinging to the mirrors, he feels a flicker of relief—clean, fresh, back to himself. Or so he thought. He opens his closet and grabs his normal clothes, the ones that always made him feel like himself. But as he puts on his jeans and hoodie, something feels... off. They don't fit the same way they used to—not physically, but emotionally. He frowns at his reflection in the mirror, tugging at the hem of his hoodie, trying to force himself to feel normal.
But nothing about this feels normal anymore.
The surreal events of the day before haunt him. The feminine work uniform he wore so begrudgingly, the dress his sister made him try on for the customer, and—worst of all—how it felt to look in the mirror and see someone unrecognizable staring back at him. For a fleeting second yesterday, when the stylist adjusted his hair, when his sister mocked him with false compliments, he wondered... did I actually look good?
The thought horrifies him now, but it won’t leave. He stares at himself, clutching the edges of the bathroom counter, searching his face for any hint of who he is supposed to be. Is this still him? Or has the humiliation changed him somehow, peeled back a layer of himself he didn’t even know existed?
"Stop it," he mutters to his reflection, his voice trembling. "It’s just her. It’s just... everything she does to mess with you."
But his reflection doesn’t offer any reassurance. He turns away, gripping his sides, trying to steady his breathing. Yesterday, he’d been forced to confront things he never wanted to think about. Questions about himself, his identity, and why his sister could pull his strings so easily.
It feels like he's been cracked open, and now he’s scrambling to piece himself back together. But the pieces don’t fit like they used to.
He slumps down on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. His normal clothes feel more like a costume than his second skin. And the thought terrifies him.
[[Door bell rings]]<<print $playername>> is sitting in his room in a daze, half-hoping to escape the world for just a bit longer, doesn’t answer. The door bell comes again—persistent this time.
“I know you’re in there,” his friend’s voice calls from the other side. “You haven’t been answering your phone all day, man. Open up!”
Reluctantly, he drags himself to the door and opens it. Standing in the doorway is his best friend, looking both worried and irritated. His usual carefree attitude replaced with concern.
“Dude, your phone’s been off all day. You didn’t show up when we were supposed to meet up. What’s going on?”
<<print $playername>> looks down at his feet, unsure how to explain. He doesn't want to get his friend caught up in this mess, not yet at least. His plan to play the submissive role, to lull his sister into a false sense of security, is still in its early stages.
“I’m fine. Just needed some space, that’s all,” he mutters, trying to downplay the situation, but his friend isn’t buying it.
“Bullshit,” they respond flatly, walking into the room and shutting the door behind them. “Something’s off. I’ve known you for years, and I can tell when something’s wrong. You’ve been acting strange lately. What’s going on with you. Is it your sister?”
<<print $playername>> feels a pang of frustration. He wants to tell them everything—about the pranks, the humiliations, the plan for revenge—but he knows he can’t. Not yet.
“I just... I’m not myself right now,” he says softly, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been a lot. A lot to process, you know?”
His friend’s eyes soften, but there’s still worry there. “I get it. But you don’t have to go through this alone. Whatever’s going on with your sister, we’ll figure it out. You’ve been acting like you’ve given up on yourself, man. Is that what you want?”
<<print $playername>> hesitates for a moment. His thoughts swirl around in a chaotic mix But his friend’s unwavering concern breaks through the noise, and for the first time, he lets down his guard.
<img src="images/day7/friend.jpeg"/>
“I’ve been a fucking pussy,” he admits quietly. “But I’m not. I’m going to take her down, but I can’t rush it. She thinks she’s in control, but I have to plan something.”
His friend stares at him for a long moment, processing the words. Finally, they nod slowly, understanding dawning in their eyes. “I knew you weren’t just giving up. But, man, you’ve got to be careful. You can’t let her break you, and you can’t let her see that you’re planing about getting revenge; it’s about making sure you don’t lose yourself in the process.”
“I won’t,” the protagonist says with quiet resolve. “I just need her to think I’ve given up, that she’s won. And when the time comes, I’ll make sure she knows what it feels like to lose. For real.”
His friend’s expression softens, and they give a small, reassuring smile. “I’ve got your back, man. Just let me know when you need help, alright?”
The weight of his plan settling in, but the relief of having someone to confide in lifts a bit of the burden.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
His friend gives him one last look before standing up. “Alright, well, don’t stay cooped up here all day. You’ve got people who care about you, and we’re not going anywhere.”
As his friend heads for the door, <<print $playername>> watches them go, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. He feels better.
[[Phone has a notification]]
His phone buzzes.
A text message notification from the community college pops up. He squints at it, blinking in confusion. The message reads:
“Reminder: Your class enrollment starts tomorrow. Please be sure to complete your registration before 11:00 AM.”
For a moment, the words don’t register. His mind races back through the chaos of the past few days—his new job, the pranks, the humiliation, and everything his sister had been doing to him. He had completely forgotten about his community college classes, which were supposed to start tomorrow.
His heart sinks. The mix of emotions from the previous days swells up in his chest, now joined by a new wave of panic. He’s been so caught up in the chaos of his sister’s cruel games and his own emotional turmoil that he’s neglected something important: his future. His chance to get some control back. The classes at the community college were supposed to be his way out of this cycle—a way to move forward, gain some independence, and build a future that didn’t involve being under his sister’s thumb.
[[Go to Your Room]]
The mall is bustling with activity, a mix of families, teenagers, and shoppers going about their day. You walk through the crowded halls, keeping your head down, trying not to draw any attention to yourself. The events of the past few days still weigh heavily on you, making every step feel like a chore.
As you pass by the food court, a familiar voice cuts through the noise. “Hey! <<print $playername>>!”
You freeze, instantly recognizing your best friend’s voice. Turning toward the sound, you see them waving at you from a table near a coffee stand, their expression a mix of relief and concern.
Reluctantly, you walk over, trying to keep your composure. Your friend’s gaze is unwavering, clearly picking up on the tension you’re trying to hide.
“Man, where have you been? I tried calling you all day yesterday, and nothing. You didn’t show up when we were supposed to meet. What’s going on?”
You glance around, avoiding their eyes. “I’ve been... busy,” you mumble, sinking into the chair across from them.
“Busy?” they reply, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck. What’s really going on?”
You hesitate, the words caught in your throat. You don’t want to drag them into the mess with your sister, but their genuine concern makes it hard to brush them off.
“I just... needed some space,” you finally say, keeping your gaze fixed on the table.
Your friend leans forward, their tone shifting from casual to serious. “Don’t give me that. I’ve known you long enough to see through your bullshit. Something’s wrong. Is it your sister?”
The mention of her name sends a wave of frustration through you. You feel the urge to spill everything—the pranks, the humiliation, the way she’s taken control of your life—but you hold back.
“I’m not myself right now,” you admit quietly. “It’s been a lot. A lot to process.”
Your friend’s expression softens, but the concern in their eyes doesn’t fade. “Look, I get it. But you don’t have to go through this alone. Whatever she’s doing to mess with you, we’ll figure it out. You’ve been acting like you’ve given up, man. Is that what you want?”
You take a deep breath, your thoughts swirling. Their words break through the haze of doubt clouding your mind. For the first time in a while, you feel like you can let down your guard.
“I’ve been a fucking coward,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not giving up. I’ve got a plan. I just need time to pull it off. She thinks she’s in control, but I’m going to take her down.”
Your friend stares at you for a long moment, their expression unreadable. Finally, they nod, a small smile tugging at their lips. “I knew you weren’t just rolling over. But you’ve got to be careful. You can’t let her see what you’re planning. And you can’t let her win.”
“I won’t,” you reply with quiet resolve. “She thinks I’ve given up, but when the time comes, I’ll make sure she knows what it feels like to lose.”
Your friend leans back in their chair, their smile growing more confident. “That’s what I want to hear. And hey, you’ve got me in your corner. Just say the word, and I’ll help however I can.”
A small sense of relief washes over you. Having someone on your side, someone who believes in you, makes the weight of your plan feel just a little lighter.
“Thanks,” you say, managing a faint smile. “I appreciate it.”
Your friend stands, stretching as they grab their drink. “Alright, I’ve got to head out, but don’t disappear on me again, alright? You’ve got people who care about you. Don’t forget that.”
As they walk away, you sit for a moment, watching the crowd bustle around you. For the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope.
[[Phone has a notification]]You lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the day replaying in your mind. The sting of humiliation from yesterday still lingers, but beneath it, a new sense of resolve begins to take hold.
Your sister’s prank was cruel, a calculated effort to strip away every ounce of your dignity. For a moment, it felt like she’d succeeded. But as the day went on, you found something stronger—a determination to fight back. You’re done being her puppet, done letting her control every aspect of your life. It’s time to take back your power, piece by piece, no matter how long it takes.
The thought of revenge fills you with a quiet confidence. You know it won’t be easy, and you’ll have to bide your time, but for the first time in a while, you feel like you have a purpose.
Your best friend’s voice echoes in your mind. They saw through your mask, the one you’ve been wearing since this whole ordeal began. And instead of pity, they offered support. They reminded you that you’re not alone in this, even when it feels like the whole world is against you.
And then there was the reminder about college enrollment. You almost forgot, buried under the weight of everything else. But that simple text brought a flicker of hope. College isn’t just about classes; it’s a chance to start over, to find something new. Maybe even to escape your sister’s grasp once and for all.
You glance at your phone on the nightstand, the enrollment reminder still sitting in your notifications. You’ll take care of it tomorrow. One step forward, one small piece of control reclaimed.
With a long sigh, you close your eyes, the tension in your body slowly melting away. Sleep doesn’t come easily, not after everything, but eventually, the exhaustion catches up to you. As your mind drifts, one thought lingers, steady and sure:
This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
[[Next Morning]]Day 8 Monday
The sunlight is harsh as you walk into the kitchen, barely feeling rested. The weight of everything—your sister’s cruel games, the humiliation of yesterday, and the looming sense of no escape—hangs heavy on his mind. You had almost forgotten about college enrollment, and now, the reality that you are stuck with a job, & school, and no way out of your sister’s control. Everything seems even more suffocating.
[[Let's eat something]]
As he enters the kitchen, his sister is already sitting at the table, her smug grin wide across her face. She looks up at him, clearly enjoying the control she’s exerting over him. With a flourish, she slides a piece of paper across the table.
“Here’s your list of chores for the week,” she says with a mock sweetness that makes his stomach turn. “Don’t worry, I’ve kept it simple for you. You know, just the usual: cleaning, laundry, the house in general. Same old, same old. But this time, you’ll have to do them.”
The protagonist looks down at the list, his heart sinking. It’s endless. There’s no escape.
“You may a job, but you are still my little bitch” she continues, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “And I’m sure you are excited about your little school plans, but I don’t care. You’ve got to do everything on this list. You don’t have any excuses left. And if you think about skipping anything… just remember, I still have those beautiful pictures of you.”
The words cut through him like a blade. He doesn’t even need to ask what pictures she means—the ones she’s taken of him in embarrassing moments, capturing his weakness for when she needs them.
"Those pictures," she continues, her tone casual, almost like she's discussing something mundane, "they’re always there, waiting. You know, I could easily send them to Mom or even post them somewhere. Wouldn’t that be fun? You really want me to do that? Because you know I’ll enjoy it."
The silence in the room is deafening as you struggle with the growing sense of helplessness. He wanted to keep up the charade of not caring, but hearing her voice, so full of control and malice, makes the truth sink in. She’s won—again.
You stares at the list, trying to ignore the fire in his chest, the anger at how easily she manipulates you. But right now, there’s no choice. He’s backed into a corner, and all he can do is comply.
"Fine," you mutter, almost defeated, though you feel the rage burning inside "I’ll do it."
Your sister’s smile widens in satisfaction. "Good. I knew you’d see sense eventually."
She stands up from the table, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "And just to remind you, there’s a surprise coming next Saturday. I think you’ll find it… especially fun. Keep up the good work, and maybe you’ll earn a reward for all this."
As she walks out, leaving you alone with the list of chores, All you have left is a sinking feeling in your chest. There is no choice but to comply with her demands for now, do everything she wants, the chorus to escape them you got a job here they are again. The shadow of her cruelty looms over you.
[[You head back to your room]]After a moment of staring at the list, you take a deep breath, trying to push aside the overwhelming sense of humiliation. You know that you have no choice but to comply—for now. You feel the burning need to take back some control.
With a quiet resolve, you turn your attention to the reminder on your phone about college enrollment. The reality of the opportunity hits you again. you can’t let your sister control every aspect of your life. You might be stuck in this situation for now, but you are not about to throw away the future.
[[Get ready, and head to college]]Heading to the community college feels like a long shot, a small escape from the suffocating grip of home, but there’s a spark of determination inside you. You have to do this.
The college hall is buzzing with activity when you arrive. Students shuffle through lines, filling out paperwork and chatting about class options. The energy is lively, and for a moment, it’s almost overwhelming. But you push forward, focusing on the goal ahead: taking control of your future.
As you scan the room, a familiar face catches your eye—Charlotte. She’s standing by a table stacked with brochures, talking to a small group of students. When her eyes meet yours, she waves, her smile warm and inviting.
"Hey!" she calls out, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "You made it! I was wondering if you’d show up."
You nod, managing a small smile despite the tension tightening in your chest. “Yeah,” you say, your voice quieter than you intend. “I almost forgot about it, honestly. But here I am.”
Charlotte chuckles, the sound light and reassuring. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. This is a pretty big step, right?”
You nod again, trying to let her encouragement sink in. You’re not sure where this decision will lead, but standing here feels like the first real choice you’ve had in weeks.
Charlotte picks up a brochure from the table and hands it to you. “So, what do you want to take?” she asks. “You’ve got some interesting options.”
You glance down at the list of courses, your mind racing as you consider the possibilities.
[[Photography]]: Learn the art of capturing moments and telling stories through images.
[[Fashion Design]]: Dive into the world of creating unique clothing and exploring creativity in design.
[[Football?]]: For those looking to get involved in the competitive and physical world of sports.
Each option feels like a crossroads—a step in a different direction. You take a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling on your shoulders. This is your chance to choose, to shape something for yourself.
The room for photography is cozy, with large windows letting in natural light and shelves lined with cameras and photo samples. The smell of fresh coffee lingers in the air. You step inside, taking in the mix of students already seated. The class is almost evenly split between boys and girls, all chatting casually as they settle in.
At the front of the room stands the teacher, a man in his thirties with a warm, easygoing smile. His presence is immediately reassuring.
“Welcome, everyone!” he says, clapping his hands together as the class quiets down. “I’m Mr. Finch, and I’ll be guiding you through the art of photography this semester. Whether you’re here to tell stories, capture moments, or just take better selfies, we’re going to have fun while we learn.”
The students laugh at his lighthearted tone, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease. You find a seat near the middle of the room, the buzz of excitement around you beginning to feel infectious.
“Photography is about seeing the world differently,” Mr. Finch continues, his voice filled with enthusiasm. “It’s about perspective, emotion, and storytelling. By the end of this course, I hope you’ll all be able to see the magic in the everyday.”
You feel a flicker of hope. Maybe this is exactly what you need—something creative, something meaningful. You glance at the person sitting next to you, who smiles and introduces themselves. The class already feels welcoming, and for the first time in days, you feel like you might actually belong.<img src="images/day8/fashion.jpeg"/>
The classroom for fashion design is bright and vibrant, filled with mannequins draped in fabric, sketches pinned to boards, and racks of colorful textiles. The energy in the room feels artistic and alive. You step inside, feeling a little out of place as you notice the predominantly female student body. A few boys are scattered among the groups, but the majority of the students are already deep in conversation about their favorite designers or upcoming trends.
At the front of the room stands Madame Leclair, the teacher. She’s poised and elegant, with a French accent that makes every word she speaks sound like a melody.
“Bonjour, mes élèves!” she says, her smile warm but commanding. “Welcome to the world of fashion design. Here, we do not simply sew. We create, we innovate, and we find our voices through design.”
Her gaze sweeps the room, landing on you briefly. Her smile widens slightly as she takes in your appearance, though you’re not sure if she’s impressed or silently judging.
“In this class,” she continues, “you will learn to turn ideas into reality. You will explore shape, color, and fabric. You will learn to express yourselves. By the end, you will not only understand fashion—you will understand yourselves.”
The other students seem at ease, already flipping through sketchpads or feeling the fabrics on the racks. You sit down at a desk, glancing nervously at the sketches of a nearby student. They look like they’ve been designing clothes for years. You feel out of your depth, but something about Madame Leclair’s confidence makes you think you might learn to find your footing here.
[[Select Fashion and head off to work]] (P.S. if you don't want this course then go back now)The gym echoes with the sound of voices and laughter as you step inside. The floor shines under the fluorescent lights, and the scent of sweat and floor polish hits you immediately. You spot the jocks immediately—big, muscular guys passing footballs around and cracking jokes as they get ready for practice.
You already feel out of place, but you take a deep breath and step further inside.
The coach, with a booming voice and a whistle around his neck, steps forward, his eyes scanning the group of students. When his gaze lands on you, you feel a wave of dread.
“Well, look what we’ve got here,” he says loudly, his grin spreading wide. “You sure you’re in the right class, kid? This isn’t home economics—you look like you might get snapped in half in just one sliding tackle.”
The room erupts into laughter, and you can feel your face heating up. You look down, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, but the coach isn’t done.
“Alright, alright,” he says, waving a hand to quiet the group. “You’re here now, we will see what you’ve got. Don’t worry—we’ll make a real athlete out of you.”
The other students glance your way, some smirking, others just curious. You clutch your bag tightly, already feeling like you’ve made a huge mistake. The coach claps you on the back, his booming laugh echoing in your ears.
You try to shake off the humiliation and tell yourself it’ll get better. But deep down, you can’t help but wonder if this was the wrong choice.
"Be ready for first training session tomorrow"
[[You head to work]]The store feels familiar as you step inside, the soft hum of music playing over the speakers. Samantha is leaning against the counter, scrolling through her phone, but she looks up as soon as she sees you.
“Hey, look who’s here,” she says, flashing a playful grin. “So, how was whole college enrollment thing, or are you here to beg for advice?”
You didn't expect her to remember but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Well, actually, I picked my course today.”
“Oh?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. “Let me guess—home economics? You know, something to keep those delicate hands safe.”
“Ha ha,” you reply dryly. “No, I enrolled in fashion design.”
For a moment, Samantha seems surprised, her teasing expression softening. “Fashion design, huh? Didn’t peg you for the creative type.”
“Yeah, well, guess I’m full of surprises, and I love sketching” you say, grabbing a stack of folded shirts to put on the shelves.
She watches you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before her usual smirk returns. “You know, that actually kind of suits you,” she says. “I mean, you’ve got that… soft look about you.”
“Gee, thanks,” you mutter, feeling your face heat up slightly as you turn away.
The rest of the shift passes uneventfully—restocking shelves, tidying up, and helping a few customers who wander in. Samantha teases you now and then, but there’s an edge of genuine interest in her voice when she asks about your first class tomorrow.
[[Manager wants you]]
Near the end of your shift, the manager calls you over.
“Hey,” she says, holding out a small envelope. “Here’s your pay for last week. Ten bucks an hour, four hours a day, three days—$120. Not bad for your first check.”
You take the envelope, feeling a small sense of pride. It’s not much, but it’s yours.
“Thanks,” you say, tucking it into your pocket.
“See you tomorrow” she adds, already turning back to her paperwork.
[[Head home with hope and happiness]]You step into the house, expecting the usual emptiness, but the smell of home-cooked food catches you off guard. It’s warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the chaotic morning you had. “Mom?” you call out, your voice uncertain.
“In the kitchen!” her familiar voice answers.
You walk in to see her bustling around the stove, wearing her favorite apron and a bright smile. “I told you I’d be back today,” she says cheerfully. “How was your first day back at work?”
Before you can answer, your sister enters, her grin wide and self-satisfied. “Oh, he’s doing just fine,” she says, sliding into a chair at the table like she owns the place. “He’s been super helpful, haven’t you, little bro?”
Her tone is laced with mockery, and you feel your stomach tighten.
“Speaking of which,” she adds casually, pointing to the counter, “why don’t you set the table? You’re good at that.”
You glance at your mom, hoping she might intervene, but she just looks up from stirring the pot with a curious expression. “Since when do you listen to her?” she asks, her tone light but probing.
“It’s… complicated,” you mutter, avoiding her gaze as you pick up the plates and silverware.
You move between the table and the kitchen, setting everything just so under your sister’s watchful eye.
“Don’t forget the napkins,” she chimes in.
You suppress a sigh, grabbing them from the drawer and placing one at each setting.
“Water, too,” she adds with a smug smile.
Your mom raises an eyebrow at that, watching as you fill the glasses and set them down. “Well, aren’t you organized,” she says with a small laugh, though you can sense the undercurrent of confusion in her voice.
Once the table is set, dinner is served. For a brief moment, there’s a sense of normalcy as your mom tells stories about her trip, filling the silence with warmth. But your sister’s smug glances keep you on edge.
Midway through the meal, your mom turns to you with a curious smile. “So,” she says, her tone light but genuine, “what did you end up picking for college? You mentioned you were choosing today.”
You swallow your food, suddenly feeling all eyes on you. “Fashion design,” you say, trying to sound casual.
The room goes quiet for a moment, your mom’s fork pausing halfway to her mouth.
Your sister’s reaction is immediate. She bursts into laughter, almost choking on her drink. “Fashion design? Are you serious? Oh, this is too good!”
“Enough,” your mom says, her tone sharp as she glances at your sister. She turns back to you, her expression softening. “That’s a great choice,” she says, her voice full of support. “Fashion is a creative and challenging field. It takes real talent to succeed there.”
Your sister, still laughing, wipes a fake tear from her eye. “Oh yeah, real talent. Like learning how to walk in heels or sew prom dresses. Maybe you can start by fixing that awful sense of style.”
“Seriously, stop,” your mom says firmly, her patience wearing thin.
“I’m just saying,” your sister replies, grinning at you. “He’s going to be the star of the next runway show. Don’t trip on your way down the catwalk, little sissy boy.”
You grit your teeth but focus on your food, unwilling to let her bait you.
Your mom sighs, clearly exasperated. “Don’t listen to her. Fashion design is a smart choice, and I’m proud of you for following your instincts.”
[[Now chop chop little miss fashionista clean up do the dishes]], your sister says with a grin. You without any fight start clearing the table. Your mom gives you a curious look as you grab the plates.
“You’re doing the dishes tonight?” she asks.
“Of course he is,” your sister chimes in with a grin. “He’s so good at following orders.”
You carry the plates to the sink, silently scrubbing them as your sister leans back in her chair, clearly enjoying the dynamic.
“Don’t forget to wipe the counters,” she says mockingly, earning a sharp look from your mom.
“Enough,” your mom says again, though her voice is softer this time. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you two, but you’d better start getting along.”
You finish the dishes, your hands pruned from the soapy water, and turn to your mom as she stands to leave the room.
“I’ll be heading back to work tomorrow morning,” she says with a sigh. “But it’s good to see you both handling things here. At least the house isn’t falling apart.”
You smile faintly, appreciating her support, though your sister’s smug grin in the corner reminds you that “handling things” isn’t as simple as it seems.
[[Off to your room]]
Later, alone in your room, you sit on the edge of your bed, the day playing over in your mind. The warmth of your mom’s encouragement lingers, but so does the sting of your sister’s ridicule.
As much as you’d like to brush it off, her words cut deeper than you’d admit. Still, you’re determined to prove them wrong—not just her, but everyone who doubts you.
You glance at your phone, the class schedule for tomorrow pulled up on the screen. A new chapter is about to start, and you’re not sure what to expect. But for the first time in a while, you feel like you’re taking a step forward, even if it’s a small one.
[[Go to Sleep|Day 9 Tuesday]]The alarm buzzes, jolting you awake. You groan, dragging yourself out of bed. First day of class, you remind yourself, nerves twisting in your stomach.
After a quick shower and brushing your teeth, you stare at your reflection. “You’ve got this,” you mutter, trying to ignore the doubt in your eyes.
Throwing on a plain shirt and jeans, you grab your bag and scarf down some toast in the quiet kitchen. Just as you’re about to leave, your sister appears, smirking.
“Off to design some dresses, sissy boy?” she teases, leaning against the counter.
You roll your eyes, choosing not to respond, and head out the door.
The cool morning air calms you slightly as you walk to the community college. The sight of the busy campus fills you with nervous anticipation, but you push forward.
Time to start something new.
[[On to Fashion Design Class|FashionClassIntroduction]]<img src="images/day8/fashion.jpeg"/>
You step into the brightly lit classroom, feeling both anxious and curious. Rows of long wooden tables are neatly arranged, each set with fabric rolls, sewing kits, and blank sketchpads. The faint hum of students chatting blends with the subtle scent of thread, paper, and chalk dust.
At the front of the room, a tall, imposing woman stands. She’s dressed immaculately, her sharp eyes scanning the room like a hawk. Madame Leclair. Even if you didn’t know her name, you’d recognize her presence—the kind of presence that silences a room without needing to say a word.
“Settle down,” Madame Leclair says, her French-accented voice commanding immediate quiet. “Welcome to your first day of fashion design. This class will test your creativity, precision, and discipline. If you expect anything less than perfection, you are in the wrong room.”
As she speaks, you notice a familiar figure standing off to the side—Charlotte. Her blonde hair catches the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows, and her signature glasses add to her cool, composed look. She’s wearing a fitted navy-blue blouse and a confident expression that screams competence.
Madame Leclair gestures to her. “As you know, each of you will be paired with a senior mentor for the semester. They will guide you, challenge you, and ensure you keep up. Charlotte will be overseeing this group,” she says, locking eyes briefly with you before continuing, “and you will learn from her.”
<img src="images/day9/Charlotte.jpeg"/>
Charlotte steps forward, her gaze sweeping the room before landing on you. For a brief moment, her lips curve into a slight smirk—just enough to send a chill of anticipation down your spine.
“Alright,” Charlotte begins, her tone sharper than you expected, “I don’t have time for slackers. If you want to survive here, you’ll need to show me what you’ve got. Now…”
She walks directly to your table, her presence intimidating up close. With a confident tap on the edge of your sketchpad, she asks, “So, what can you do? Skills. Now. Don’t waste my time.”
The room feels quiet again, and you sense other students sneaking glances in your direction.
[[I’m pretty good with sketching.”]]
[[“I know some basic sewing skills.”]]
[[“Honestly… I’m good for nothing.”]]Charlotte tilts her head slightly, assessing you as if deciding whether you’re worth her time. “Basic sewing? Well, you’re not completely hopeless then. Let’s see if you can stitch something decent by next week.”
Her tone feels dismissive, but there’s a flicker of acknowledgment hidden in her words.
<<set $sewing = 10>>
[[Class continues]]Charlotte’s expression freezes, her smirk vanishing as her gaze hardens. “Good for nothing? Don’t waste my time with that attitude.”
Her disappointment is palpable, but the way she stares at you—expecting you to do better—feels oddly like a challenge. She doesn’t pity you. If anything, it feels like she’s daring you to improve.
<<set $loser = 10>>
[[Class continues]]Charlotte arches a brow, her smirk softening into something resembling approval. “Sketching, huh? At least it’s a start. Show me a design later, and we’ll see how ‘good’ you really are.”
Her words carry a challenge, but you detect just a hint of encouragement beneath her cool demeanor.
<<set $sketching = 10>>
[[Class continues]]Charlotte doesn’t wait for your reply to sink in. Instead, she moves her chair a little closer, her sharp gaze flicking to your work as if she’s already claimed you as her project for the semester.
“You’ll be sitting next to me for now,” she states matter-of-factly, pulling out her sketchbook. “No complaints, right? It’ll be easier for me to fix your mistakes.”
There’s no venom in her words—just Charlotte’s usual mix of confidence and authority. Before you can react, Madame Leclair claps her hands to gather everyone’s attention.
“All right, class! I trust you’re all acquainted with your mentors and juniors by now. This will be a challenging semester, but you’ll only succeed if you listen and learn. Your seniors will guide you, but your own hard work will determine your success. Don’t disappoint me.”
Her tone brooks no argument, and you can feel the weight of her words settling over the class. Around you, pairs of seniors and juniors exchange murmurs or eye each other warily. Charlotte, however, is unfazed.
“Your seniors have designed some outfits, work with them on fitting, accessorising, and presenting their work. Finish the design by next week, you present them on coming Monday” Madame Leclair adds, gesturing toward the unfinished sketches on everyone’s desks. “Dismissed.”
[[After Class]]You glance at Charlotte, who doesn’t seem the least bit rattled. She closes her sketchbook with a crisp snap and tucks it neatly under her arm, standing up with a grace that only adds to her intimidating aura.
“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” she says, her tone even but decisive. “Next week isn’t far away, so don’t slack off.”
You nod, though it feels like a lot to process. Design. Fit. Accessorize. Present. It’s a tall order for your first week, especially when paired with your steep learning curve.
Charlotte pauses as she notices your expression, her lips quirking into a small smirk. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you don’t embarrass yourself.”
Before you can respond, she leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “A few of us are heading to the cafeteria. You’re coming, right?”
Her tone makes it sound less like a question and more like an expectation.
[[You timidly decline and tell her you have to go to work]]You shift awkwardly in your seat, trying to avoid Charlotte’s sharp gaze. “I can’t,” you mumble, your voice low. “I’ve got work right after class.”
Charlotte’s brow arches, her expression flickering briefly between surprise and curiosity. “Work, huh?” She leans back slightly, tapping the edge of her sketchbook against the table. “Well, I suppose someone’s got to pay the bills.”
She doesn’t sound judgmental, but there’s a teasing edge to her words. As she turns to leave, however, she pauses by your desk, her lips curling into that trademark smirk.
“Actually, it’s probably for the best.” Her tone takes on an unmistakably cheeky note, and she glances at you over her shoulder. “I’ll need you to keep your figure intact—you’re going to be the model for presenting my design.”
Your stomach sinks at her words. “Wait—what?”
But Charlotte’s already walking away, waving a hand dismissively as if the matter’s settled. “See you next class! Don’t forget to practice that runway walk.”
You sit frozen, the words you’re going to be the model echoing in your head like a bad joke. Around you, other students are packing up their things and heading for the door, but you’re still stuck replaying Charlotte’s nonchalant declaration.
Me? A model?
It feels absurd—laughable, even—but somehow, with Charlotte, you know she wasn’t joking.
[[to the salt mines]]You arrive at the clothing store, your thoughts still preoccupied with Charlotte's comment. The idea of being a model—you—feels like a joke, but the more you think about it, the more you realize Charlotte isn’t someone who throws out random challenges. She meant it.
Samantha spots you as soon as you walk in, her usual mischievous grin spreading across her face. “What’s got you so deep in thought?” she asks, leaning against the counter.
You shake your head, brushing it off. "Nothing important. Just... school stuff."
Samantha raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but she lets it slide. "Alright, well, let's get to work then."
The rest of the shift is a blur of customers and the usual routine—ringing up purchases, restocking, folding clothes—until it’s finally time to clock out.
"Good bye Sam", you head out the store
[[Head home]]As you walk through the door, the house feels eerily quiet. The smell of dinner still lingers in the air, but there’s no sign of your mom. A small note on the kitchen counter catches your attention.
"Gone for the week, back on Thursday. Don’t forget to take care of things at home."
You let out a sigh of relief, knowing your mom won’t be here to witness the chaos your sister will undoubtedly create. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook—your sister’s voice echoes through the house from the living room.
"Hey, get over here my dear old maid. I’ve got a list of things for you to do."
You head into the living room, reluctantly, to find her lounging on the couch with a smug expression.
"First off, the dishes. Then vacuum, and don’t forget to dust the shelves. It’s not going to do itself, you know, here take your apron"
You nod, not bothering to argue—what’s the point?
<img src="images/day9/cleaning.webp"/>
You start with the dishes, scrubbing and rinsing without much thought, your sister occasionally popping her head into the kitchen to inspect your progress. Once they’re done, you move on to the vacuuming, then dusting the shelves, as if you’re somehow invisible.
[[Exausted]]Exausted after such a long day, you collapse into the bed. Before you can ponder much about anything you are asleep.
[[Next Morning Wednesday Week 2]]The alarm buzzes, jolting you awake. You groan, dragging yourself out of bed. Another day of class, you remind yourself, nerves twisting in your stomach.
After a quick shower and brushing your teeth, you stare at your reflection. “You’ve got this,” you mutter, trying to ignore the doubt in your eyes.
Throwing on a plain shirt and jeans, you grab your bag and scarf down some toast in the quiet kitchen. Just as you’re about to leave, your sister appears, smirking.
“Off to design some dresses, sissy boy?” she teases, leaning against the counter.
You roll your eyes, choosing not to respond, and head out the door.
The cool morning air calms you slightly as you walk to the community college. The sight of the busy campus fills you with nervous anticipation, but you push forward.
[[Fashion Design Class 2]]<img src="images/day8/fashion.jpeg"/>
The following day, you enter the classroom, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Today’s class is a bit different—Madame Leclair is the one at the helm, not your senior, Charlotte. The French instructor stands tall at the front of the room, a calm authority about her as she begins to speak.
“Good morning, everyone,” Madame Leclair greets, her voice cool but welcoming. “Today, we begin with the basics. As you all know, fashion design is not only about creativity but precision. You must learn the fundamentals before you can venture into the more complex aspects of design.”
She gestures to the tables around the room, each covered with fabric swatches, sketchpads, and measuring tapes. “We will begin by understanding fabric types, basic measurements, and creating simple design concepts. This is about mastering the essentials—learn these well, and the rest will follow.”
You take a seat, eyes flicking to the materials on your table, feeling slightly overwhelmed but also strangely excited. The thought of working with fabrics and bringing designs to life seems so distant from where you’ve been. But Madame Leclair’s calm yet demanding presence gives you the sense that you can rise to the challenge.
After explaining the materials and how to take accurate measurements, Madame Leclair walks around the room, checking in with each student. As she stops by your desk, she looks at you, assessing your work.
“You’ll need to focus on accuracy. A good designer knows the importance of precise measurements.” Her words are stern but not unkind.
Once she’s finished, Madame Leclair addresses the class again. “Your sessions with your senior mentors will be on Tuesdays and Fridays. Those are the days you will get hands-on guidance, critique, and learning from someone who’s further along in their journey.”
She pauses, letting her words sink in before continuing. “The other three days of the week, including today, will be with me. Here, we’ll build the foundational skills you need to succeed. Do not take this lightly. Everything you learn now will carry you forward.”
[[You head out the class immediately going to work]]After class, you head straight to work, the weight of the morning’s lessons lingering in your mind. The rhythmic routine of the store feels like a grounding force after the intensity of Madame Leclair’s class.
Samantha is already at the counter when you arrive, leaning casually against it as she scrolls through her phone. She looks up, raising an eyebrow when she sees you walking in.
"Looks like someone’s got a lot on their plate," she says with a teasing smile. "How was your first class? Did Fashion Designing scare you into submission yet?"
You chuckle, shaking your head. "No, but it’s definitely something serious. Gotta get the basics down first—measurements, fabrics, all that stuff."
Samantha nods thoughtfully. "Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you. But hey, it’s cool that you’re getting into something creative." She smirks. "Just don’t start wearing dresses around here, okay?"
You roll your eyes, but there’s a warmth to her teasing. It’s clear she’s joking, though her comment makes you feel oddly self-conscious.
The rest of the shift goes by without much event. A few customers come and go, and you handle the register with ease, scanning items and folding clothes while keeping up with the usual routine. By the time the end of your shift approaches, your mind is preoccupied with thoughts of class, Charlotte’s challenge, and what the rest of the week might bring.
“Good work today,” he says with a smile. “See you tomorrow.”
You nod and gather your things, the hum of the store fading as you head out into the cool evening air.
[[Back to your 'happy' place]]After a long day, you finally make it back home, hoping for a quiet evening. As you step into the living room, your sister is already waiting for you, leaning casually against the couch with a self-satisfied grin.
“There you are,” she says, her tone far too cheerful to be innocent. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
You eye her warily, already suspecting trouble. “What now?”
She gestures dramatically toward the corner, where several overstuffed laundry baskets sit stacked, overflowing with clothes. “It’s laundry night! And lucky for you, I’ve saved it all up just for you.”
Your stomach sinks as you stare at the mountain of clothing. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath.
She shrugs, her grin widening. “Not at all. Mom’s not here, and someone’s gotta do it. And since you’re so good at following orders…”
You know there’s no point in arguing, not with her holding all the leverage she has. With a sigh, you roll up your sleeves and grab the first basket, lugging it toward the laundry room.
[[Laundry room]]The rhythmic hum of the washing machine fills the small laundry room as you sort through the seemingly endless piles of clothes. Shirts, socks, and jeans all blur together until something catches your eye.
Nestled among the laundry is one of your sister’s outfits—a piece so distinct that it stands out against the sea of ordinary garments. Without thinking, you pause for just a moment too long, holding it in your hands.
Her voice cuts through the quiet like a knife. “What are you doing?”
You glance up sharply to find her leaning against the doorframe, her expression equal parts amused and smug. “Didn’t think you were the type to get distracted by my wardrobe,” she says, her tone dripping with mockery.
You quickly put the outfit aside, but it’s too late. She’s noticed, and she’s clearly enjoying the moment.
Choice: Which outfit were you holding?
[[A silky black evening dress]]
[[A pair of lacy lingerie]]
[[A short plaid skirt with a matching blouse]] <<set $outfitHeld = "plaid skirt and blouse">>
You freeze as you realize you’re holding a plaid skirt and matching blouse—a schoolgirl-esque ensemble that feels both innocent and strangely out of place.
She notices immediately, her eyes lighting up with wicked amusement. “Oh, that one’s a classic,” she says, stepping into the room. “You know, I always thought this looked cute on me. But maybe…”
She trails off, smirking as she takes the skirt from you. “You’re holding it like you want to try it on. Maybe you should.”
Your face burns, and you quickly shake your head, but her laughter fills the room. “Relax. I’m kidding—mostly.”
[[Finish quickly & off to sleep]] <<set $outfitHeld = "silky dress">>
Her grin widens as she saunters over, plucking the dress out of your hands. “Oh, this?” she says, holding it up with a flourish. “You like it? I wore this to the office party last month. Got so many compliments.”
You feel your cheeks flush as she drapes the dress over your shoulder for a moment, letting the smooth fabric slide across your skin. “You’d look good in this,” she teases, laughing as she takes it back. “Maybe I’ll save it for your next special occasion.”
[[Finish quickly & off to sleep]] <<set $outfitHeld = "lacy lingerie">>
Your heart skips a beat as you realize you’re holding one of her lacy bras, the intricate pattern both delicate and embarrassing.
She bursts out laughing, crossing her arms as she watches you fumble to set it aside. “Wow, you really went for the good stuff, huh?” she says, her tone mocking but sharp. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re curious.”
Before you can respond, she leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Careful, little bro. Don’t get too attached—you might start thinking about what it’s like to wear it.”
[[Finish quickly & off to sleep]]
<<if $outfitHeld == "silky dress">>
You drift into an uneasy sleep, but your mind refuses to give you peace. In the dream, you’re standing in front of a mirror, wearing the silky black evening dress. The fabric clings to you in ways that feel both alien and unsettling.
Your sister appears behind you, her grin wide and malicious. “Perfect,” she says, adjusting the straps on your shoulders. Before you can protest, she drags you by the arm to a candlelit table where a stranger waits.
“This is your date,” she announces, loud enough to draw stares from everyone around. “Smile, and don’t forget your manners.”
The humiliation is unbearable as you stumble through the dream, her laughter echoing in your ears.
<</if>>
<<if $outfitHeld == "lacy lingerie">>
Sleep comes, but it doesn’t bring rest. In your dream, you’re standing in a brightly lit room, dressed in the delicate, lacy lingerie you found earlier. Your sister stands nearby, holding a camera with a smug grin.
“Strike a pose,” she commands, snapping photos as you try to cover yourself, the embarrassment burning hotter than the camera’s flash.
“Don’t be shy,” she teases. “You’re a natural!”
No matter how much you protest, the clicks of the camera don’t stop. The dream drags on, each snapshot etching itself deeper into your mind.
<</if>>
<<if $outfitHeld == "plaid skirt and blouse">>
Your sleep is restless, haunted by a dream where you’re standing outside your old school, wearing the plaid skirt and blouse you held earlier. The fabric feels constricting, the skirt swishing with every step you take.
Your sister’s voice rings out, loud and mocking. “Don’t forget your backpack! Wouldn’t want to be late!”
You’re ushered into the building, where everyone stares, pointing and laughing. The teachers don’t even bat an eye, as if your outfit is the most normal thing in the world. You’re called to the front of the class, the humiliation only deepening.
<</if>>
[[Wake up next morning]]You wake up with a jolt, your heart racing and your cheeks burning. The images from the nightmare linger vividly in your mind—your sister’s mocking laughter, the stares, the overwhelming humiliation.
You rub your face, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream, but the feeling of embarrassment clings to you like a second skin. “It was just a dream,” you mutter to yourself, though your flushed cheeks and pounding heart say otherwise.
Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you take a deep breath and force yourself to focus. The last thing you need is to let your sister—or anyone else—see you rattled.
Quickly, you pull on your clothes and grab your bag, determined to get a fresh start. The nightmare might still be lurking in the back of your mind, but you refuse to let it dictate your day.
The morning light streams through the window as you step outside, the cool air helping to clear your head. College awaits, you remind yourself, squaring your shoulders as you set off toward your next class.
[[Fashion Design Class 3]]<img src="images/day8/fashion.jpeg"/>
You arrive at the classroom, the familiar scent of fabric and fresh sketches filling the air. The desks are neatly arranged, each one ready for the day’s lesson. Madame Leclair stands at the front of the room, already organizing the materials for class. She doesn’t look up as the students file in, her presence commanding enough to keep the chatter quiet.
“Welcome back,” she says sharply, her French accent giving her voice an added level of authority. “Today, we will begin working with fabric samples. You will learn how to assess quality and texture, and how each fabric can shape your designs.”
She moves toward the front of the room, grabbing a bundle of fabrics. “Take one of each of these and study them. I’ll be walking around, making sure you all understand how the fabric choices will affect the final product.”
You take your seat, trying to push yesterday’s uncomfortable thoughts to the back of your mind. You pick up the fabric samples she laid out—soft silks, sturdy cottons, delicate lace. Each one feels different in your hands, and you can’t help but think of how these materials might be used in future designs.
Madame Leclair walks by, eyeing your choices. “Remember, a designer doesn’t just pick fabric because it’s pretty. It must serve a purpose in the design.”
Her words hit home. She’s right. Design isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s about the utility of the material, the way it fits the body, and the way it will hold up over time.
After giving everyone time to inspect the fabric, Madame Leclair claps her hands, signaling the end of the task.
“Now, sketch your ideas. You have thirty minutes. Make sure to think about how the fabrics complement one another and how you will create your look. I expect something innovative.”
You set to work, sketching your ideas and focusing on the materials in front of you. For the first time, you feel somewhat in control, even as the weight of the semester ahead begins to settle in.
[[Tired and exausted you head to work]]After a long and draining morning, you arrive at work feeling physically and mentally exhausted. The usual buzz of the store, the clicking of the register, and the rustling of hangers seem distant as you slip into the routine.
Samantha is already behind the counter, her sharp eyes catching your weary expression. She raises an eyebrow, clearly noticing your lack of energy. "Long day?" she asks, a smirk tugging at her lips.
You nod, barely able to muster the energy to speak. "You have no idea..."
Just then, your manager walks over with a knowing smile. “You look like you could use a break. Come on, we’re going out for coffee and lunch. You’ve earned it.”
<img src="images/day11/coffee.jpg"/>
Surprised but grateful, you follow them to the small café down the street. The warmth of the shop and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee soothe your senses. You slump into a chair, trying to shake off the fatigue.
Samantha and your manager both look at you, sensing your exhaustion but also curious. “So, tell us,” your manager begins, his tone casual but genuine, “how’s the fashion design thing going? You seem pretty invested in it, even if it’s clearly a lot of work.”
Samantha adds, her voice teasing but kind, “Yeah, you’ve been handling the chaos pretty well. So, what’s got you hooked on it? The creativity? Or... something else?”
You pause for a moment, considering how you want to respond. Both are partly true, but how you answer could shape the way they view you.
[[“Fashion design fascinates me as a field of work.”]]
[[“Lately I think I just enjoy the female clothing, being near it, even wearing it lately”]]Your manager nods thoughtfully, clearly impressed by your focus. “That’s a good answer. There’s a lot to learn in that field, and it’s rewarding when you see your designs come to life.”
Samantha grins, her tone light but with a touch of sincerity. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s good to have someone passionate about their work. It’ll be interesting to see where it takes you.”
<<set $fashionReason = "buddingcrossdresser">>
[[head back to work]]Samantha chuckles, clearly amused by your honesty. “Oh, I get that,” she says, teasing but with a hint of respect. “There’s definitely a certain appeal to it. Clothes can be powerful, and feeling good in what you wear can change your entire day.”
Your manager smiles, clearly not judging. “Well, fashion is a lot about personal expression, too. Whatever gets you excited about it is a good start. But don’t let the clothes distract you from the craft itself.”
<<set $fashionReason = "buddingdesigner">>
[[head back to work]]After a brief, refreshing break, you gather yourself and head back to work. The café’s warmth fades as you step into the cool air, and you make your way back to the store. The familiar sound of the register and the constant hum of the store floor greet you as you walk in. Samantha’s already behind the counter, her casual demeanor as usual, but she gives you a knowing glance when you step back inside.
"That was quick," she remarks, her tone playful. "Did you get some inspiration for your designs during lunch? Or just fueling up for more laundry?"
You chuckle, shaking your head. "Just trying to get through the day."
As the shift goes on, you handle the usual flow of customers—ringing up purchases, assisting with sizing, and making sure everything stays in order. The work is repetitive, but the steady rhythm helps you forget the chaos of the day for a while. By the end of the shift, you're tired but ready to head home.
“See you tomorrow,” you say with a smile, before heading out the door.
[[home sweet home]]You get home, already dreading the load of chores your sister has left for you. There’s no point in arguing, no point in asking her to do anything. The list is there, and it’s up to you to get through it.
You shuffle into the kitchen, making a quick dinner to fuel you for the rest of the day. Your sister is nowhere to be found, likely staying out late with her friends. At least that means you can work in peace..
First, it’s the dishes. The sink is overflowing with plates, glasses, and utensils. You scrub away, trying to ignore the ache in your back, the burn in your arms as you clean every last dish. Once that’s done, you wipe down the counters, clean out the fridge, and move on to the laundry. The pile of clothes seems to have grown overnight, but it’s still manageable—just one more thing to check off the list.
You move through the tasks, one after another. Vacuuming, dusting, folding clothes—nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that surprises you anymore. By the time the last chore is finished, the sun is starting to set, casting a warm glow across the room. You can’t wait to collapse into bed.
[[Oh my sweet bed]]Finally, with the day’s chores behind you, you retreat to your room. Your body feels like it’s been through a war—exhausted and sore from all the work. You take a quick shower to wash off the sweat and grime, then change into your pajamas.
Lying down on the bed, you let your body sink into the mattress, the soft comfort of it barely enough to ease your tired muscles. Your mind races with thoughts of everything that’s been going on lately—school, work, and the never-ending list of things your sister demands.
As you close your eyes, you can’t help but wish for just a little peace. But for now, sleep is all you can manage.
[[Friday week 2]]The alarm blares, dragging you from a restless sleep. You groggily roll out of bed, rubbing your eyes and trying to shake off the exhaustion from the week. It’s Friday, and the thought of getting through today feels like a small victory. College is waiting, and you’re ready to get to class and move on from the daily grind.
You quickly dress, grabbing your clothes for the day, the usual rush of getting ready to leave feeling familiar. The minutes slip by too fast, and just as you’re about to head out the door, you hear your sister’s voice from the hallway.
“You’re leaving already?” she calls out, her voice sweet but laced with a mocking undertone.
You pause, already knowing where this is going. You turn to face her, your patience running thin.
“Yeah,” you answer, trying to avoid eye contact. “I’ve got class.”
She steps into view, leaning casually against the doorframe with an exaggerated sigh. “You sure you want to go out dressed like that?”
You glance down at your outfit—nothing special, just the usual clothes for college, but her words carry a sting.
With a sly grin, she crosses her arms. “I mean, you look like you’re trying so hard to be something you're not. Maybe you should just wear that sundress to school today. It would suit you much better, wouldn't it?”
Her words hang in the air, biting and humiliating, as she takes pleasure in your discomfort. It’s a reminder of just how far she’s willing to push you, no matter how hard you try to ignore her.
[[Fashion Design Mentor meeting]]
The walk to college feels different today—there’s a certain anticipation in the air, especially with your meeting with Charlotte. You remember her mention of the dress for Monday’s class assignment, the one she designed. The thought of wearing it in front of the class makes you nervous, but there's no avoiding it. Charlotte’s already made it clear: she has a plan, and you’re part of it.
When you finally arrive at the college, you head straight to the fashion design studio. It’s busy as usual, filled with students working on various designs and fabrics. But your eyes immediately land on Charlotte. She’s standing by a mannequin, carefully adjusting the hem of what looks like a beautiful yellow dress—bright and elegant, with a smooth flow to the fabric.
"Ah, you’re here," Charlotte says, looking up as you enter. There’s no teasing in her voice today, just pure focus. “Come here. We’ve got work to do.”
<img src="images/day12/fitting.jpg"/>
You walk over, your nerves spiking as she starts to measure you. “I need you to model this for Monday’s class presentation. But first, we need to make sure the fit is perfect. You’re going to wear it and present it, which means you need to look graceful, confident. No excuses.”
You want to protest, to say that you’re not sure if you can pull this off, but before you get a chance, Charlotte has already snapped at you.
“No complaints, just follow my lead,” she commands, her voice firm but not unkind. “You’re going to look amazing in this, I promise. But it’s not just about wearing the dress—it’s about how you present it. The way you carry yourself matters just as much as the design itself.”
You stand there, feeling awkward, as Charlotte adjusts the dress on you, pinning the fabric in place, measuring and trimming where necessary. The chaos around you seems to fade as Charlotte takes full control, her hands moving quickly and decisively. It’s clear that she’s a professional, confident in her work, and you can’t help but feel slightly awed by her determination.
"Relax," she says, pushing you gently to stand straighter, as if she’s reading the tension in your body. “You’re doing great. You’re going to wear this with grace. Take a breath. The way you stand, the way you walk in this—it’ll be your best presentation yet.”
<img src="images/day12/Yellowdress.jpeg"/>
You submit to her expertise, standing still as she works her magic. You feel both vulnerable and strangely empowered as she pulls, tucks, and adjusts the fabric. You try to focus on what she’s saying rather than your growing discomfort.
“I know this is all new for you,” Charlotte adds softly, her gaze catching yours for a moment. “But trust me, by Monday, this dress will look incredible on you. And so will you.”
The moment feels intense, her words carrying a weight that pushes you forward despite the nerves.
[[Fitting ends]]
The fitting finally comes to an end as Charlotte steps back, taking a moment to admire her work. She adjusts the final hem and smooths out the fabric with a satisfied nod. You feel the dress fitting much better now, the tightness around your body softened by her meticulous adjustments. It feels like a transformation—something simple, yet you can't ignore the power of how Charlotte’s vision has shaped you.
“That’s it for today,” she says, stepping around you to inspect every angle, making sure nothing is out of place. “You’ll be ready for Monday’s class presentation. But,” she adds with a thoughtful pause, “there’s still work to be done before then.”
Your heart races slightly. Work? You thought this was the end of it.
Charlotte grins at your expression, clearly reading the uncertainty in your eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing you can’t handle. We need to go over how you’ll present the dress—how you’ll carry yourself while wearing it. It’s just as much about how you walk and stand in front of the class as it is about the dress itself.”
You nod, understanding. You can’t just wear the dress; you have to wear it with grace. It makes sense, but it’s still intimidating.
“I’ll need to see you again on Sunday evening,” Charlotte says, pulling out her phone to mark the time. “We’ll meet here, and I’ll guide you through the presentation. Trust me, you’ll be confident, just like how you’re going to wear this dress. Monday will be a breeze.”
You take a deep breath. There’s a lot to prepare, but you trust Charlotte’s expertise. Plus, she seems determined to make you shine.
[[You head to work once again]]After the fitting with Charlotte, your mind is buzzing with thoughts of the upcoming presentation. You barely notice the time passing as you arrive at work, your focus lingering on Monday. Samantha, noticing the distraction, looks up from behind the counter with a raised eyebrow.
"Hey, you've got that look on your face," she says, her voice light but curious. "What's going on? You seem lost in thought."
You pause, still a little shaken from the fitting earlier, but decide to tell her about the class presentation. "I’ve got this thing on Monday, a class presentation where I have to model a dress. Charlotte’s been helping me get ready, but it’s a bit more complicated than I thought."
Samantha’s expression softens a little, sensing your nervousness. "A dress, huh? Well, I can see why that’d get to you. What’s your main concern about it?"
You think for a moment, the weight of the task ahead settling in. It’s not just about wearing the dress, it’s about the entire experience—the confidence, the way you present yourself. There are two things that really worry you.
[[Wear the dress]]
[[Carrying the dress and presenting it to the class]]
You feel your cheeks flush at the thought. “I’m just worried about wearing the dress in front of everyone, you know? It’s… different. I don’t know if I’ll look or feel right in it.”
Samantha nods understandingly, before pulling you toward the back of the store. “Come on, let’s get you comfortable in a dress. We’ve got plenty here you can try on, and we’ll take it slow.”
<img src="images/day12/workpractice.jpg"/>
She picks out a few dresses, each one a different style, and encourages you to try them on. “Don’t think too much about it. Just get used to how the fabric feels, how it fits. Walk around in them and get a sense of what feels right.”
After some time, you begin to relax as you adjust to the feel of the dresses, moving in them with more ease. It’s a slow process, but by the time you’re done, you feel a little more confident in the fabric, the fit, and your ability to pull it off.
<<set $workedOnDressingComfortably = true>>
[[Get home]]Samantha gives you a playful grin. “Ah, I see what’s bothering you. It’s not just wearing it; it’s about how to walk and present it, right?”
You nod, feeling the weight of the class presentation ahead. “Exactly. I don’t want to look like I’m struggling or nervous up there. I need to move with confidence.”
Samantha walks over to a section of heels on the store’s display rack and grabs a pair of elegant, heels. “These will help. You need to learn how to walk in them, and once you’ve mastered that, you’ll feel like a million bucks.”
She helps you slip them on and guides you to the back of the store, where there’s space for you to practice. She puts on a display and does a little rampwalk for you, to show you how its done.
<img src="images/day12/workpractice.jpg"/>
“Okay, just take it slow. Keep your posture straight, heels clicking, and imagine you’re presenting something amazing to the class. Feel it, own it.”
You take a few shaky steps at first, but with her guidance, you start to gain your balance and confidence, walking with more purpose with each step. By the time you’re done, the heels feel almost like second nature, and your worries about the presentation fade.
<<set $workedOnWalkingInHeels = true>>
[[Get home]]The house feels unusually quiet without your sister’s presence, and for once, you can actually relax. The weight of the week is beginning to lift as you settle in for the evening. Your sister’s out partying, leaving you with some much-needed alone time. You can finally catch a breath.
You grab your phone and, with a sigh of relief, shoot a quick text to your best friend. It’s been a while since you’ve had a proper chat, and you know talking to him will be a good distraction from everything else going on.
Text to Best Friend:
"Hey, man. Free to meet up this Sunday? We can catch up at the mall. I could really use a break from everything."
Your phone buzzes almost instantly with a response.
Best Friend’s Reply:
"Sounds good! Sunday morning, same spot?"
You grin, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Having a plan to look forward to feels comforting. You quickly confirm the time.
Your Reply:
"Perfect. Let’s do it."
[[off to your room]]You make your way to your room, the familiar quiet of the house surrounding you. After the chaotic week, it feels almost surreal to finally have some space to yourself. No chores to do, no sibling pranks, just the sound of your own thoughts.
You sit on the edge of your bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The weight of the week settles in your chest, but knowing you’ll have the chance to relax tomorrow morning with your best friend lifts your spirits.
You change into your pajamas, tossing the clothes from the day aside. The comfort of your bed calls to you as you lie down, the sheets cool against your skin. The events of the week replay in your mind, but you push them aside, focusing on the stillness around you.
With a deep breath, you close your eyes. It’s been a long day, and despite everything, you’re finally able to unwind.
[[Saturday morning Week 2]]You wake up to the sound of your sister's voice calling from downstairs, breaking the silence of the morning. Your heart sinks as you roll over in bed, knowing exactly what today is. Saturday, the day she promised a humiliating surprise would await. You hesitate, staying in bed a little longer, hoping for some kind of escape, but the reality of your situation is hard to ignore.
Finally, you force yourself out of bed. You’re exhausted, both physically and mentally, but you know there’s no avoiding what’s coming. You make your way downstairs, the familiar sense of dread weighing on you.
As you reach the bottom of the stairs, your sister’s voice rings out, sweet as honey but dripping with sarcasm, “Well, well, well, look who finally decided to join me. My little maid, always so helpful.”
You step into the living room, only to find her sitting on the couch, grinning from ear to ear. She’s acting overly gracious, almost as if she’s proud of you. The moment you see the glint of mischief in her eyes, you know it’s coming.
“You’ve been doing such a good job with all those chores this week,” she says with mock sincerity. “Maybe you should do it professionally, hmm? I think you’d look great in something a little more… appropriate for your new role.”
She pulls out a neatly folded outfit from behind the couch, and your stomach twists in knots. It’s a French maid outfit—frilly, short, and undeniably feminine. Your heart sinks. The fabric in her hands feels like a weight pressing down on you. The embarrassment is instant, and you can already hear her mocking voice echoing in your head.
“You’re so good at taking care of things around here,” she continues, her smile widening. “This will be the perfect outfit for you. Don’t you think? Let’s get you dressed up and show everyone how perfect you are at your new job.”
Your pulse quickens as she hands you the outfit, her eyes glimmering with excitement at the thought of watching you squirm. It feels like a cruel joke, but you know it’s anything but that. This is her way of reminding you just how powerless you are, forcing you into something humiliating as she takes pictures or videos to use as leverage later.
[[comply]]
[[refuse]]You stand there, the outfit in your hands, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel the weight of your sister’s gaze on you as she watches, eagerly waiting for you to comply. Reluctantly, you hold up the French maid outfit, knowing there’s no escaping this humiliation. Every part of it feels like a step deeper into your own personal hell.
First, the lacy lingerie;
You wear the satin white panties, they are somewhat familiar to you as you have been wearing 'unisex' underwear at work already, but the satin matching bra is where you struggle, wearing it is a fight. you have no time to let any feelings linger
Up next, the Dress:
You slide into the dress, the fabric cool against your skin. The frills around the neckline tickle your throat, and you instinctively want to pull the dress down, to hide yourself in the folds of the fabric. It’s short, the hem just barely covering your thighs, and as you look in the mirror, you can see how ridiculous you look. Your reflection stares back at you—a skinny, petite figure in a dress that’s clearly meant for someone else.
The Apron:
Next, you tie the apron around your waist, the white lace contrasting sharply with the black of the dress. It feels absurd—like you're stepping into a role that isn’t yours, one that doesn’t fit, no matter how much you try to pretend. The apron’s frills add to the overall childish, overly feminine look, and you can’t help but feel small, insignificant. It’s like your sister’s mocking you in every stitch, every piece of lace.
The Stockings:
Your sister hands you the sheer black stockings, and you reluctantly pull them up your legs, your face flushing as you do so. The stockings cling tightly to your skin, accentuating your legs in a way you never thought possible. It’s a small thing, but it makes the outfit feel even more humiliating—every movement reminding you of what you’re wearing.
The Heels:
Finally, you step into the high heels, the final piece of the outfit. They’re black, glossy, and tall—way taller than any shoes you’ve ever worn. As you stand up, you feel the immediate discomfort of the heels pushing your posture forward, forcing you to balance awkwardly. You try to stand tall, but the heels make every step feel like a struggle.
Looking at Yourself in the Mirror:
You stand there for a moment, staring at your reflection in disbelief. This isn’t you. You’ve never worn anything like this before, and the embarrassment is overwhelming. The frilly dress, the tight stockings, the apron, and the heels—all of it feels wrong. You feel exposed, humiliated, and small. Every part of the outfit screams that you are not in control, that you’ve been forced into something humiliating by someone who enjoys every second of your discomfort.
She circles you like a predator, inspecting every detail, before finally stopping in front of you. “Don’t you look cute. Just like I knew you would.” but don't forget the blonde wig my maid needs to be a blonde bimbo maid
[[Complete look]]
You stare at the French maid outfit in your hands, your mind racing with the decision. Every instinct tells you to refuse, to stand up for yourself, to not let her push you any further. But you know your sister well enough to understand that refusing is not just a simple act of defiance—it will come with consequences, harsh ones.
“No,” you say quietly, your voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. “I’m not wearing this. I won’t.”
Her smile falters for a brief moment, and you think, maybe, just maybe, she’ll back off. But then she lets out a soft laugh, her tone dripping with malice.
“Really?” she asks, her voice laced with mock disbelief. “You think you can just refuse me after everything I’ve done for you? You’ve been my little maid for weeks now, and this is how you repay me?”
She stands up, walking toward you with slow, deliberate steps. Her face is calm, but there’s a coldness in her eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. “You don’t get to just decide when you’re done playing by my rules, do you?” she continues, her voice low and venomous. “If you think for a second that you can walk away from this, you’ve got another thing coming.”
You can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. She’s not backing down. If anything, her resolve is only hardening.
[[She brings out her phone]]She quickly grabs her phone, her fingers moving with practiced ease as she starts recording. "Fine. You don’t want to wear the outfit? How about I post the pictures of you in it instead? Or even better, how about I send it to your friends, your classmates, maybe even Mom? Let’s see how well you handle that.”
[[You grab her phone]]
[[You tell her to stop and say you will do it]]This not written, you will probably get a spanking and a lesson on cloud storage. YOU WILL BE A MAID TODAY!Your throat tightens as you weigh your options. You know deep down that you can’t keep fighting her like this, not when she has all the cards. Reluctantly, you let out a heavy sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, defeated. “I’ll wear the outfit. Just stop.”
Her grin widens, clearly pleased with herself. “Good. I knew you’d come to your senses. Now, let’s make this fun.”
As she continues to record, your face burns with humiliation. You can feel the weight of her control on you—how effortlessly she bends you to her will. But there’s no turning back now. The shame hits you like a flood as you comply with her request, knowing that she’s won once again.
[[comply]]Your sister steps in front of you, her grin widening as she takes in the sight of you in the outfit. “Well, well, well,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “Look at you. Perfect little maid.”
She circles you slowly, her eyes scanning every inch of the outfit, from the frilly black dress to the tight stockings, the apron, and the heels. Then, she moves to adjust the blonde wig she’s forced you to wear, giving it a playful tug to sit it just right on your head. The golden locks fall in soft waves around your face, framing it in a way that only seems to enhance your humiliation. The wig feels so out of place, like it’s meant to transform you into someone you’re not—and someone you would never choose to be.
<img src="images/day13/standing.jpg"/>
“Don’t you look cute?” she continues, her voice full of mock sweetness. “Just like I knew you would. A perfect little blonde bimbo maid.”
She stops in front of you, her eyes gleaming with pleasure as she admires her handiwork. “I bet you never imagined you’d be standing here like this, huh? But you know what? You look adorable,” she adds with a twisted smile, as if this is all just a fun game for her.
[[work work work work work]]Your sister’s cruel smile lingers as she admires her work, clearly enjoying every moment of your discomfort. The sight of you in the blonde wig, the frilly maid outfit, and the high heels seems to satisfy her in ways that leave you feeling small and powerless.
With a smug expression, she walks over to the corner of the room and grabs a feather duster from the shelf. “Here you go,” she says sweetly, her voice dripping with mock kindness. “You’ve got some cleaning to do. After all, what good is a maid if she’s not doing her job?”
She hands you the feather duster, and you reluctantly take it in your hand, feeling the weight of it as if it’s another reminder of how powerless you are. The softness of the feathers in your grip does nothing to soothe the burning embarrassment you feel.
<img src="images/day13/cleaning.jpeg"/>
“Start with the living room,” she commands, already making herself comfortable on the couch as if watching you do this is the most entertaining thing she’s ever seen. “Dust the shelves, the furniture. Make sure everything is spotless, maiden.”
You hesitate for a moment, standing there, the reality of your situation sinking in. The outfit, the heels, the wig—it all feels like a cruel joke, one that you can’t escape. But you know that if you refuse, it’ll only make things worse. The consequences of defiance are far too great.
With a resigned sigh, you begin to dust the furniture, the feather duster moving in slow, awkward motions as you try your best to avoid looking at your sister. The air in the room feels thick with her amusement, as though she’s watching every movement, just waiting for you to slip up.
[[the doorbell]]As you move from one task to the next, the embarrassment grows more suffocating with every passing moment. The soft click of the feather duster against the furniture is the only sound in the room, a quiet rhythm that does nothing to calm the storm brewing inside you.
Then, suddenly, you hear it—a sharp ring of the doorbell.
Before you can even react, your sister’s voice calls out from the living room, “I’ll get it!”
The door creaks open, and the sound of laughter and voices filters in from the hallway. You freeze, your heart hammering in your chest as the reality of what’s about to happen hits you.
You’re standing there, in the middle of the living room, dressed in the most humiliating outfit imaginable. The frilly French maid dress, the absurd blonde wig, the high heels—all of it making you feel more like a joke than a person. You thought you might get a brief moment of solitude, but now it’s all about to come crashing down.
And then, the laughter intensifies.
Your sister’s female friends pour into the room, four beautiful, confident women, each one laughing and chatting as they walk in. They look effortlessly stunning, and it only adds to your sense of inadequacy. You stand there, frozen, as they spot you immediately.
One of them, a tall woman with striking red hair, raises an eyebrow at the sight of you. “Well, well, well,” she says, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “What do we have here?”
Another friend, with long black hair and a mischievous grin, steps forward, her gaze lingering on you with obvious amusement. “Oh my God, is that really you? I didn’t know he was your personal maid,” she says to your sister, clearly enjoying the situation.
Your sister’s laugh rings out, loud and unapologetic. She steps forward to join her friends, her eyes lighting up at your obvious discomfort. “Yep, that’s my little helper for the day. He’s been doing such a great job, right?” She eyes you like a prized possession, clearly proud of how much control she has over you.
The other two women join in the teasing, exchanging glances as they take in the sight of you. One of them, a blonde with a sharp smile, steps closer, a little too close for comfort, her voice dripping with mockery. “Aren’t you just adorable?” she says, her tone far too sweet for the situation. “I’d let you clean my house any day.”
Your face flushes a deep red as you stand there, unable to move. You’ve never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, as the four women stare at you, laughing and making comments. Your sister, enjoying every second, doesn't even try to stop them. In fact, she encourages it.
“Well, what do you think, girls?” your sister asks, looking at her friends for their approval. “Doesn’t he look perfect in his little outfit? He’s been doing chores all day.”
The room is thick with their laughter and your humiliation, and you feel like you’re shrinking in on yourself. You can’t escape. You can’t hide.
[[Run and hide in your room]]
[[Stand stunned]]You feel your breath quicken, the anxiety swelling inside you. There’s no way you can stay here, in front of all of them. The walls feel like they’re closing in, and the only thing you can think of is escaping this scene. Without a word, you turn quickly and dart toward the hallway, hoping to reach the safety of your room.
The door slams shut behind you as you lock it, leaning against it for a moment to catch your breath. Your heart is racing, your body trembling. You’ve never felt more humiliated in your life, but at least you’ve escaped, even if just for now.
But you can still hear the muffled sounds of laughter through the door, and your sister’s voice calling out, “Aw, come on, don’t be shy now. We’re just getting started!”
The shame settles into your bones as you sit on your bed, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You can hide for now, but you know the torment isn’t over.
[[you sit waiting]]<<set $outfit = "maid">>
You stand there, The weight of your sister’s control hangs over you like a suffocating cloud, and it’s clear that she’s enjoying watching you squirm.
"Well," your sister says, her eyes glinting mischievously, "since you’re such a good maid, why don’t you get us something to drink."
You want to say something, to stand up for yourself, but the words catch in your throat. You know what happens when you defy her, and right now, the thought of the consequences keeps you paralyzed. So, you swallow your pride head to the kitchen.
The laughter continues in the background, but you don’t hear it anymore. You pour some orange juice in glasses your hands moving without much thought. You’ve learned to shut off your feelings when they start to overwhelm you, focusing solely on the task at hand.
<img src="images/day13/drinks.jpg"/>
You head back and start serving the juice. "Refreshing" one of her friends calls, her voice dripping with mock encouragement. Another chimes in, "Look at him, so obedient."
You force a smile, your face flushed with embarrassment. Your sister watches it all unfold, a smug grin on her face, clearly enjoying every second of it. Her friends exchange glances and chuckles, each one taking a sip from the glass you’ve just handed them, as though they’re savoring the moment. You feel more like an object than a person—nothing but a servant, a toy for their amusement.
[[they begin talking]] You sit there in your room, still trembling with a mix of fear and frustration. The weight of the outfit, the blonde wig, and the heels is suffocating. The sounds from downstairs—laughter, chatter, the occasional snicker—are reminders of just how deep you’ve sunk in your sister’s game. You’ve had enough. This isn’t just a prank anymore. It’s torment, and you can’t keep letting it happen.
Your heart pounds as you stand up, pacing back and forth in your room. You know you can’t hide forever. You can’t keep playing this game. You’ve reached your breaking point.
Finally, you take a deep breath and open your bedroom door, stepping out into the hallway. Your sister is waiting at the top of the stairs, her expression still filled with that sickening grin.
“I’ve had enough,” you say, your voice shaking but filled with conviction. “You can send whatever you want to whoever. I can’t do THIS anymore.”
Your sister’s smirk falters for a brief moment, but it’s only temporary. Her eyes narrow, calculating. Then, just as quickly, she steps forward, unfazed by your outburst.
“You think you can just quit and get away with it?” she asks, her tone casual, as if the whole situation were just a minor inconvenience. “No, no, no. You’ve got too good of a thing going on, little maid. You can’t just walk away from it now.”
She takes a step closer, looking you up and down, her gaze lingering on the outfit she’s forced you into. “Why don’t you get out of that ridiculous outfit and come downstairs to join us? You’re being such a good little maid, after all.”
Her words drip with mockery, and the taunting lingers in the air between you. Every inch of your body screams to defy her, to refuse, but you know the consequences of doing so. You can’t just walk away, but the thought of staying in this situation feels worse
[[you decide to get back to your regular clothes]]You stand there, facing the door, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The air feels thick with your sister’s expectations, her taunting words still echoing in your head. For a brief second, you think about standing your ground, about refusing to be part of this cruel game anymore. But the thought of her posting those photos, sending them to your friends, or even your mom... it’s enough to push you forward.
You slowly walk back into your room, your heart pounding with reluctance. The blonde wig feels too heavy now, the maid outfit suffocating, but you take it off, piece by piece. The tight corset and the frilly dress, the lace stockings, the high heels—all of it comes off and lands in a pile on the floor, leaving you in just your regular clothes. You hesitate for a moment, then gather the courage to face what’s waiting for you downstairs.
Your sister stands at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, a smug grin on her face as she watches you descend. “Good choice,” she says, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
You look away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing you break. You make your way to the living room, where her friends are still chatting and laughing. They all look up as you enter, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. It’s hard to ignore their gazes, but you try to keep your head held high.
Your sister gestures toward the couch. “Why don’t you sit with us? You can make yourself useful now that you're properly dressed,” she says, the words laced with mock sweetness.
<<set $outfit = "regular">>
You hesitate, but then you sit down, your heart still racing from the humiliation of the last few hours. You’re surrounded by them now—your sister, her friends—and the weight of their judgment is suffocating. But for now, you’ve made it through the worst of it, or so you tell yourself.
[[they begin talking]]The evening drags on as your sister and her friends chat, their voices laced with laughter and teasing. It’s clear they’re all enjoying this, and you’re left there, feeling more like a prop than a person. Finally, your sister claps her hands together, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
“I have an idea,” she says, her voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Let’s have a hyper-girly pajama party tonight!”
The other girls cheer in response, and the excitement fills the air, but it only deepens the sense of dread you feel. You already know what’s coming next.
She turns to you, a wicked smile on her face. “And you’re definitely joining us. No excuses. I think you’ll look perfect in something really cute.”
She throws a silky set of pajamas at you—shorts and a shirt from Victoria’s Secret. The fabric shimmers under the light, its pastel colors feeling almost too feminine, too delicate, and it makes your stomach churn. You glance at the pajamas in your hands and then back up at your sister, who’s clearly waiting for you to comply.
<if $outfit == "regular"> You feel a brief moment of relief that you’re not in the maid outfit anymore, but the relief quickly fades as you realize what your sister is asking. The silky pajamas feel just as humiliating in their own way, and you know there’s no escape from this humiliating charade. Her eyes glimmer with expectation. “Come on, little maid,” she teases. “You’ve got no choice but to wear this. Change into them, and come join the party!”
<elseif $outfit == "maid"> You’re still stuck in the maid outfit, the absurdity of it all making your heart sink. As she hands you the silky pajamas, your cheeks burn even hotter, knowing what’s coming. The idea of wearing something even more feminine than the maid outfit is unbearable. But you know your sister won’t let you refuse. Her smirk says it all. “Go ahead, take them off and get dressed,” she orders. “We’re not done yet.”
[[You head to change]]You take the silky pajamas from your sister’s hand, your stomach twisting as you head toward your room to change. Each step feels like an eternity as you reluctantly slip into the soft, feminine outfit. The pastel colors feel wrong against your skin, and the silky fabric glides uncomfortably as you move. The shorts are tight, the shirt fits snugly, and you can’t help but feel every inch of your discomfort.
When you return, your sister is grinning from ear to ear, her friends already looking at you with amusement. They giggle when they see you walk back into the room, and it only adds to the burning embarrassment spreading through your body.
“Look at you, all cute and ready for the night!” your sister chirps, her voice practically dripping with mock sweetness. “Now, let’s make you look even more adorable.”
She doesn’t give you a chance to protest. The rest of the night unfolds in a blur of humiliating girly activities that you have no choice but to endure.
[[Mani-Pedi Time]]<img src="images/day13/sleepover.jpg"/>
First, they sit you down for a mani-pedi. Your sister insists on picking out the nail polish color—something bright and bold, definitely not something you would ever choose for yourself. As the technician works, your sister and her friends chatter away, making fun of your nervousness and offering suggestions about how to make you “look even more fabulous.” The soft brush of the nail polish on your fingers only intensifies your feeling of helplessness. You try to remain still, but it’s impossible to ignore the way their eyes flicker to you, scrutinizing every movement.
[[Hair Styling]]
Then, the hair comes next. Your sister instructs one of her friends to do your hair, and before you can even voice your discomfort, they start working on your hair, teasing and curling it, styling it in a way that only enhances your already too-feminine appearance. The soft curls frame your face, and you can’t help but feel like a different person—someone you don’t recognize, someone who belongs to this world of endless femininity.
[[Quiz Time]]::Cosmo Quiz - Question 1
You sit there, feeling the weight of your sister's gaze as she hands you the magazine. It's time to begin the quiz. She grins, knowing you're about to be humiliated.
**1. What’s your ideal date night?**
A) Dinner and a movie, cozy and relaxed.
B) A romantic picnic under the stars.
C) A wild night out on the town, hitting the clubs.
D) A cozy night in, snuggling and watching Netflix.
<<set $question1 to "none">>
<<link "A) Dinner and a movie, cozy and relaxed.">>
<<set $question1 to "A">>
<<goto "Question 2">>
<</link>>
<<link "B) A romantic picnic under the stars.">>
<<set $question1 to "B">>
<<goto "Question 2">>
<</link>>
<<link "C) A wild night out on the town, hitting the clubs.">>
<<set $question1 to "C">>
<<goto "Question 2">>
<</link>>
<<link "D) A cozy night in, snuggling and watching Netflix.">>
<<set $question1 to "D">>
<<goto "Question 2">>
<</link>>
::Question 2
<<if $question1 == "A">>
Samantha chuckles. "Awww, you’re such a cozy little homebody! How cute. You really are a 'boyfriend material' kind of guy."
<</if>>
<<if $question1 == "B">>
Charlotte snorts. "A picnic? Really? I guess you’d be perfect for a first date, but I bet you’d be awkward as hell."
<</if>>
<<if $question1 == "C">>
One of your sister’s friends raises an eyebrow. "Wild night out, huh? Let me guess, you couldn’t handle it, right? You’d be the one in the corner, drinking water."
<</if>>
<<if $question1 == "D">>
Your sister grins. "Awww, such a *romantic* choice. I bet you'd love to just snuggle all night, huh? Maybe with a cozy blanket, a bowl of popcorn, and your favorite rom-com."
<</if>>
**2. What’s your go-to beauty product?**
A) Lip gloss – because who doesn't love shiny lips?
B) Mascara – gotta make those lashes pop.
C) Foundation – for that flawless, smooth look.
D) Blush – a little color never hurt anyone.
<<link "A) Lip gloss – because who doesn't love shiny lips?">>
<<set $question2 to "A">>
<<goto "Question 3">>
<</link>>
<<link "B) Mascara – gotta make those lashes pop.">>
<<set $question2 to "B">>
<<goto "Question 3">>
<</link>>
<<link "C) Foundation – for that flawless, smooth look.">>
<<set $question2 to "C">>
<<goto "Question 3">>
<</link>>
<<link "D) Blush – a little color never hurt anyone.">>
<<set $question2 to "D">>
<<goto "Question 3">>
<</link>>
::Question 3
<<if $question2 == "A">>
Your sister bursts into laughter. "Lip gloss? Seriously? What’s next? A lip gloss collection?"
<</if>>
<<if $question2 == "B">>
Charlotte raises an eyebrow, amused. "Mascara, huh? You sure you can handle that? I guess you’ve got the *long lashes* to make it work."
<</if>>
<<if $question2 == "C">>
Samantha chuckles. "Foundation? Wow, are you trying to cover up that boyish charm of yours? Don’t worry, we’ll make it work."
<</if>>
<<if $question2 == "D">>
One of her friends laughs. "Blush, really? A little too eager to get that 'cute girl' vibe going. I bet you’re wearing it right now!"
<</if>>
**3. How do you feel about heels?**
A) Love them! They make me feel powerful and sexy.
B) They’re cute, but I can’t wear them for too long—comfort first!
C) I hate them. I prefer flats any day.
D) They’re fun to wear for a night out, but they make me walk like a baby giraffe!
<<link "A) Love them! They make me feel powerful and sexy.">>
<<set $question3 to "A">>
<<goto "Question 4">>
<</link>>
<<link "B) They’re cute, but I can’t wear them for too long—comfort first!">>
<<set $question3 to "B">>
<<goto "Question 4">>
<</link>>
<<link "C) I hate them. I prefer flats any day.">>
<<set $question3 to "C">>
<<goto "Question 4">>
<</link>>
<<link "D) They’re fun to wear for a night out, but they make me walk like a baby giraffe!">>
<<set $question3 to "D">>
<<goto "Question 4">>
<</link>>
::::Question 4
**4. How do you feel about heels?**
A) Love them! They make me feel powerful and sexy.
B) They’re cute, but I can’t wear them for too long—comfort first!
C) I hate them. I prefer flats any day.
D) They’re fun to wear for a night out, but they make me walk like a baby giraffe!
<<link "A) Love them! They make me feel powerful and sexy.">>
<<set $question4 to "A">>
<<goto "Question 5">>
<</link>>
<<link "B) They’re cute, but I can’t wear them for too long—comfort first!">>
<<set $question4 to "B">>
<<goto "Question 5">>
<</link>>
<<link "C) I hate them. I prefer flats any day.">>
<<set $question4 to "C">>
<<goto "Question 5">>
<</link>>
<<link "D) They’re fun to wear for a night out, but they make me walk like a baby giraffe!">>
<<set $question4 to "D">>
<<goto "Question 5">>
<</link>>
::Question 5
<<if $question4 == "A">>
Samantha raises an eyebrow. "Powerful and sexy, huh? Are you sure you don’t want to walk on your tiptoes the whole night? You’re barely tall enough for those heels."
<</if>>
<<if $question4 == "B">>
Charlotte snorts. "Comfortable? I thought we were going for elegance, not ‘I’m just here for the snacks’ vibes."
<</if>>
<<if $question4 == "C">>
Your sister laughs loudly. "Flats? Wow. Really going for that *practical* look. Why don’t you just bring a pair of sneakers, too?"
<</if>>
<<if $question4 == "D">>
One of her friends snickers. "Baby giraffe? Yeah, that’s accurate. You’ll be tripping over yourself in those heels."
<</if>>
**5. What’s your biggest fashion faux pas?**
A) Wearing socks with sandals—oops!
B) Mixing patterns that should never be mixed.
C) Wearing something too tight and uncomfortable just to look good.
D) Forgetting to accessorize and looking too plain.
<<link "A) Wearing socks with sandals—oops!">>
<<set $question5 to "A">>
<<goto "Question 6">>
<</link>>
<<link "B) Mixing patterns that should never be mixed.">>
<<set $question5 to "B">>
<<goto "Question 6">>
<</link>>
<<link "C) Wearing something too tight and uncomfortable just to look good.">>
<<set $question5 to "C">>
<<goto "Question 6">>
<</link>>
<<link "D) Forgetting to accessorize and looking too plain.">>
<<set $question5 to "D">>
<<goto "Question 6">>
<</link>>
::Question 6
<<if $question5 == "A">>
Your sister grins. "Socks with sandals? Seriously? I think you’ve just defined ‘fashion disaster.’"
<</if>>
<<if $question5 == "B">>
Samantha laughs. "Mixing patterns? How bold. Or should I say, *blind*?"
<</if>>
<<if $question5 == "C">>
Charlotte smirks. "Tight clothes just for looks? Sure, because comfort is overrated, right?"
<</if>>
<<if $question5 == "D">>
One of the girls giggles. "Too plain? You sure? I thought you were going for the ‘minimalist’ chic—unintentionally, of course."
<</if>>
**6. If a guy were to flirt with you, what’s the first thing you’d notice?**
A) His eyes – they should be warm and inviting.
B) His smile – a real smile is the best way to win me over.
C) His sense of humor – gotta love someone who can make me laugh.
D) His muscles – yeah, I’m shallow. I like a guy who can throw me around a little.
<<link "A) His eyes – they should be warm and inviting.">>
<<set $question6 to "A">>
<<goto "Question 7">>
<</link>>
<<link "B) His smile – a real smile is the best way to win me over.">>
<<set $question6 to "B">>
<<goto "Question 7">>
<</link>>
<<link "C) His sense of humor – gotta love someone who can make me laugh.">>
<<set $question6 to "C">>
<<goto "Question 7">>
<</link>>
<<link "D) His muscles – yeah, I’m shallow. I like a guy who can throw me around a little.">>
<<set $question6 to "D">>
<<goto "Question 7">>
<</link>>
::Question 7
<<if $question6 == "A">>
Samantha laughs. "His eyes? You’re not exactly giving me ‘mysterious’ vibes, you know. Maybe you’re just hoping for a love story?"
<</if>>
<<if $question6 == "B">>
Charlotte giggles. "A smile, huh? You really are just like those *sappy* rom-coms, aren’t you?"
<</if>>
<<if $question6 == "C">>
One of the friends raises an eyebrow. "His sense of humor? How cliché. Maybe just wait for him to crack a joke and you can laugh your way into his heart."
<</if>>
<<if $question6 == "D">>
Your sister bursts into laughter. "Muscles, huh? Let’s be honest, you’d just be crushed in his arms."
<</if>>
**7. How would you describe your personal style?**
A) Trendy – I love to keep up with the latest fashion!
B) Classic – Simple, timeless pieces that never go out of style.
C) Bohemian – Loose, carefree, and fun.
D) Sporty – Comfortable, practical, and functional.
<<link "A) Trendy – I love to keep up with the latest fashion!">>
<<set $question7 to "A">>
<<goto "Question 8">>
<</link>>
<<link "B) Classic – Simple, timeless pieces that never go out of style.">>
<<set $question7 to "B">>
<<goto "Question 8">>
<</link>>
<<link "C) Bohemian – Loose, carefree, and fun.">>
<<set $question7 to "C">>
<<goto "Question 8">>
<</link>>
<<link "D) Sporty – Comfortable, practical, and functional.">>
<<set $question7 to "D">>
<<goto "Question 8">>
<</link>>
::Question 8
<<if $question7 == "A">>
Your sister smirks. "Trendy? You’re just another sheep in the fashion flock. But don’t worry, you can keep up, little buddy."
<</if>>
<<if $question7 == "B">>
Samantha raises an eyebrow. "Classic, huh? That’s one way to say ‘I have no personality.’”
<</if>>
<<if $question7 == "C">>
Charlotte laughs. "Bohemian? Yeah, sure. I bet you’d be the one sitting cross-legged in the corner, doing nothing but sipping herbal tea."
<</if>>
<<if $question7 == "D">>
One of the girls laughs. "Sporty? What a surprise! Next, you’ll tell us your favorite running shoes are the most stylish part of your outfit."
<</if>>
**8. What’s your biggest turn-off?**
A) Arrogance – someone who thinks they’re better than everyone.
B) Bad hygiene – no one wants to be near someone who smells.
C) Being too clingy – I like my space, thank you.
D) Not being able to hold a conversation – if we can’t talk, what’s the point?
<<link "A) Arrogance – someone who thinks they’re better than everyone.">>
<<set $question8 to "A">>
<<goto "Quiz End">>
<</link>>
<<link "B) Bad hygiene – no one wants to be near someone who smells.">>
<<set $question8 to "B">>
<<goto "Quiz End">>
<</link>>
<<link "C) Being too clingy – I like my space, thank you.">>
<<set $question8 to "C">>
<<goto "Quiz End">>
<</link>>
<<link "D) Not being able to hold a conversation – if we can’t talk, what’s the point?">>
<<set $question8 to "D">>
<<goto "Quiz End">>
<</link>>
The quiz finally comes to an abrubt end, just as you think the night can’t get any worse, the doorbell rings, cutting through the tension in the room.
“Ah, perfect timing,” your sister says with a devilish grin. “The pizza’s here. And you know what that means, right?”
Before you can even ask, she’s already pushing you toward the door. “Go ahead, little maid. Answer the door and flirt with the delivery guy. You look the part, don’t you?”
You freeze, unable to hide the deep flush that spreads across your face. The idea of flirting with anyone while wearing what you're wearing is unbearable. But you know better than to refuse. Your sister’s cruel eyes are fixed on you, and her friends are watching closely, eager to see if you’ll comply.
Reluctantly, you open the door, and the delivery guy stands there, his face neutral as he hands you the pizza. For a brief moment, he seems unaware of the situation, but as soon as he sees you—standing there in the silky pajamas, the girlish outfit, your face red with embarrassment—his expression changes, and you see the brief flicker of surprise in his eyes.
"Uh, here’s your pizza," he says awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable.
Your sister’s voice rings out behind you, sharp and commanding. “Come on, don’t just stand there, flirt with him!”
You know she’s not letting you off the hook. The pressure mounts as you try to summon some form of courage to at least make the best of the situation.
You give a half-hearted smile, your voice unsteady. “Uh… Thanks for the delivery.”
The awkward silence stretches out, your heart racing. The delivery guy looks at you for a moment longer, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation. Your sister’s friends giggle in the background, making you feel even smaller.
Finally, the guy shifts uncomfortably and clears his throat. “No problem… have a nice night,” he says, his voice stiff, and quickly retreats back toward his truck.
You close the door behind him, the weight of your sister’s amusement still hanging heavy in the air. She’s grinning, pleased with how easily you folded under the pressure.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she teases, her voice sweet with mockery. “You make such a cute little maid... even when you’re flirting.”
[[pizza time]]The night continues to drag on with your sister and her friends enjoying their drinks, laughter filling the air as they continue to make jokes at your expense. The sounds of their voices, the clinking of glasses, and their occasional bursts of laughter make it feel like there’s no escape, no moment of peace.
Your sister, clearly pleased with herself, is in the midst of entertaining her friends. The focus shifts away from you, but the damage has already been done. Each time you think you can relax, another round of teasing or an awkward comment brings you back into the center of attention.
The pizza is quickly devoured, and the conversation grows louder as your sister and her friends indulge in drinks. You’re growing tired—physically and emotionally drained by the night's events. The humiliation of the quiz, the forced flirting, and the endless mocking have left you feeling smaller than ever.
You take a deep breath, glancing around at the group. No one’s paying attention to you anymore, and for a brief moment, you see an opportunity. The air is thick with their drunken chatter, and it’s now or never.
You quietly slip away from the living room, trying to avoid any more attention. As you pass the kitchen, you hear the faint sound of your sister’s voice calling out, but you ignore it. You make your way upstairs, the staircase creaking underfoot. The night air feels like a breath of fresh air compared to the suffocating atmosphere downstairs.
You reach your room and close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. The quiet of your room is a stark contrast to the chaos downstairs, and you welcome the silence, the solitude.
[[A look in the mirror]]You stand in front of the mirror, the soft lighting casting an almost flattering glow. Your sister’s handiwork is evident—your hair is done up in soft waves, your face polished with makeup, and you’re still dressed in the silky pajamas she insisted you wear for the night. The reflection staring back at you is someone you hardly recognize, a stranger with delicate features framed by soft curls, an outfit that highlights your vulnerability.
<img src="images/day13/silk.jpeg"/>
For a moment, you can’t tear your eyes away from the mirror. The contrast between how you feel inside and what you see in front of you is jarring. The changes are drastic, yet something about it catches you off guard. Could it be that, deep down, you’re starting to notice the... beauty in it? What do you see?
[[Beauty]]
[[Humiliation]]A part of you—somewhere deep down—can’t deny that the image in the mirror doesn’t look bad. In fact, it’s oddly... captivating. The makeup, the styling—everything about the way you look seems polished, elegant even. It’s as if someone else, a more confident and graceful version of yourself, is looking back at you. It’s terrifying to admit, but a small part of you finds it strangely satisfying. You touch your face lightly, marveling at the delicate beauty your sister has coaxed out of you.
<<set $selfreflection = "Beautiful">>
[[Sleep but can you sleep this off]]The reflection staring back at you is a cruel reminder of how far you’ve fallen under your sister's control. You can barely recognize the person in the mirror— soft curls, the delicate makeup, the shiny silky pajamas. It’s all too much. You want to scream, rip the clothes off, and hide away from this person who seems so foreign to you. The humiliation bubbles up in your chest, making you feel smaller than ever, like nothing more than a puppet in your sister’s twisted game. You wish you could disappear, undo everything that’s happened tonight.
<<set $selfreflection = "humiliated">>
[[Sleep but can you sleep this off]]You lie down on the bed, the events of the night replaying in your mind. The weight of everything presses down on you, but as you drift off to sleep, a strange sense of calm begins to wash over you.
<<if $selfreflection is "beautiful">>
In your dreams, the image of your reflection returns, but this time, it feels... different. The person in the mirror doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore. You see someone poised, elegant, and unafraid—a version of yourself that radiates confidence and power.
The makeup, the soft curls, the clothes—they no longer feel like tools of humiliation but symbols of transformation. Deep down, a part of you wonders if you’ve been hiding your true potential all along.
As the dream shifts, you find yourself standing on a brightly lit stage, the spotlight on you. The crowd cheers, not for someone controlled or humiliated, but for someone strong and self-assured.
You wake up with a faint smile, a flicker of determination sparking in your chest.
<<else>>
Your dreams are a chaotic jumble of emotions, replaying every humiliating moment from the night. The laughter, the mocking, the helplessness—it all merges into a whirlwind that leaves you feeling even smaller than before.
You wake up with your cheeks burning, the shame of it all still clinging to you like a shadow.
<</if>>
[[Get Ready for the Day|MorningRoutine]]
The sunlight streaming through your window pulls you from a restless sleep. You sit up slowly, the weight of last night pressing down on your chest. The events replay in your mind: the maid outfit, the teasing laughter, the endless girly activities. It’s all a blur, but the humiliation feels as sharp as ever.
You glance at yourself in the mirror, catching sight of the disheveled silky pajamas you’re still wearing. It’s not the outfit itself—it’s what it represents. A reminder of how little control you’ve had lately. A reminder of how much your sister enjoys pulling the strings.
As you make your way downstairs, the house is eerily quiet. Your sister’s party mess is still scattered around the living room, empty glasses and plates piled on the coffee table. You pause at the sight of her sprawled on the couch, snoring softly. For once, she looks completely harmless—vulnerable, even.
You shake the thought away, heading to the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat. Your stomach churns, but you know you need the energy. Today isn’t about plotting revenge or making a move. It’s about surviving, about trying to find a sense of normalcy in the chaos.
As you sit down with your breakfast, your phone buzzes. It’s your best friend, checking in.
[[You head out to meet with your best friend]]You don’t waste any time. After grabbing a quick bite, you throw on some clothes and head out, eager to escape the house that’s become your personal hell. The fresh air feels like a lifeline, and you breathe deeply, trying to shake off the weight of everything that’s happened.
The mall isn’t too crowded, the hum of chatter and the occasional clatter of footsteps creating a soothing background noise. You spot your best friend near the usual spot by the food court, waving enthusiastically.
“Hey! There he is,” he says with a grin, though his expression falters as he takes a good look at you. “Man, you look... rough. What’s been going on?”
You sit down, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. You tell him everything—the maid outfit, the sleepover, the teasing, the absolute humiliation. By the time you finish, his eyes are wide with shock.
“Dude, what the hell?” he finally says, shaking his head. “Your sister is... something else.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair.
He leans back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face. Then, without warning, he pulls out his phone. “Okay, you need a laugh, and I’ve got just the thing. Check this out.”
<img src="images/day14/friendstory.jpg"/>
He flips the screen around to show you a picture of himself—dressed in full drag. Glittery makeup, a bright blond wig, and a sequined dress that’s way over the top.
You blink, caught completely off guard. “What... am I looking at?”
He grins, clearly enjoying your reaction. “That’s me during rush week. Had to dress up for the fraternity’s drag night to get in. Guess who won ‘Best New Queen’?”
You can’t help it—a laugh bursts out of you, the first real one in what feels like forever. “You? Seriously?”
“Hey, don’t knock it,” he says, feigning offense. “At least we both know how to slay now, bitch”
The absurdity of it all is exactly what you needed, and for a moment, the tension in your chest loosens. Time flies by and you realize you have to meet Charlotte at school.
[[You say goodbye & head to meet Charlotte at school]]The fashion department is quiet, the faint hum of sewing machines and rustle of fabric the only sounds as you enter. Charlotte is waiting for you near one of the large fitting rooms, the yellow dress already hanging on a mannequin nearby.
She doesn’t waste a second as you approach. “You’re late,” she says with a pointed look, though her smirk suggests she’s not entirely serious.
You glance at the dress, its delicate folds and intricate details making your stomach churn with nervous energy. “Barely,” you mutter, though your heart is pounding.
Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Save the excuses. We’ve got a lot to do, and I don’t have time for hand-holding. The presentation is tomorrow, and you need to be ready. Got it?”
You nod, swallowing your nerves. “Got it.”
Charlotte moves with purpose, taking the dress off the mannequin and handing it to you. “First things first,” she says, gesturing toward the fitting room. “Get changed. And don’t take forever.”
You step inside, the weight of the dress feeling heavier than it should. The fabric is soft, the design elegant, but it’s a stark reminder of how much is riding on tomorrow. When you step out, Charlotte is already inspecting you with her sharp gaze.
“Not bad,” she says, circling you like a hawk. “But you look like you’re about to bolt. Relax. Confidence is half the battle.”
[[Practice Begins]]<<if $workedon is "dressing comfortably">>
As you adjust the fabric, you realize you’re more at ease than you expected. The practice with Samantha has paid off, and you’re able to carry the dress without fidgeting or awkwardness.
Charlotte raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Hmm. You’re not as hopeless as I thought. But let’s see how you handle the heels.”
<<elseif $workedon is "walking in heels">>
Charlotte gestures to a pair of heels sitting nearby. You slip them on, and while they still feel awkward, the practice at work with Samantha has made a noticeable difference. You take a few steps, your balance steady and movements smoother than expected.
Charlotte nods, her approval grudging but clear. “Well, you’re not tripping over yourself. That’s a start. Now let’s work on holding the dress while walking.”
<<else>>
The dress feels cumbersome, the heels unsteady, and you can’t help but fidget as Charlotte watches with a mix of frustration and determination.
She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. You better pick this up quickly, or tomorrow’s going to be a disaster.”
<</if>>
She spends the next hour putting you through your paces—teaching you how to hold the dress without wrinkling it, how to turn gracefully, and how to keep your posture poised and confident. Her sharp instructions and occasional barbs keep you on edge, but there’s no denying her skill as a mentor.
By the time the session ends, your legs ache and your nerves are frayed, but Charlotte seems... satisfied.
“You’re better than I expected,” she says with a grudging nod. “But don’t let that go to your head. Tomorrow, you need to be perfect. No excuses.”
[[After Practice]]After the practice, Charlotte stretches her arms with an air of accomplishment. “Not bad for today,” she says, her smirk softening into something almost kind. “You’ve earned yourself a break. How about dinner? There’s a restaurant on campus. My treat.”
The suggestion catches you off guard. “Dinner? With you?”
She rolls her eyes playfully. “No, with Madame Leclair. Yes, with me. Come on, I’m starving, and you look like you could use some real food. Let’s go.”
Before you can process it, she’s already walking ahead, leaving you to catch up.
[[The Restaurant]]
::Reach
<<set $handheld = "yes">>
You muster your courage and lightly brush your fingers against hers. Charlotte glances at you, a knowing smirk on her lips, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she takes your hand firmly, her warmth seeping into your skin.
[[Continue Walking|NextScene]]::Shy
<<set $handheld = "no">>
You can’t bring yourself to do it, your nerves getting the better of you. Charlotte doesn’t seem to notice, her focus on the path ahead, but you can’t help wondering what might have happened if you’d been braver.
[[Continue Walking|NextScene]]
::NextScene
As you near the crossroads of the campus, where you and Charlotte need to part ways, the atmosphere feels charged. The quiet night air wraps around you both, and for a moment, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you.
<<if $handheld is "yes">>
Charlotte pauses, her fingers still loosely intertwined with yours. She gives your hand a small, deliberate squeeze before letting go, her smirk softening into something more genuine.
“Well,” she says, her voice carrying a teasing warmth, “looks like you’ve got some courage in you after all. Don’t let it go to waste tomorrow.”
You manage a sheepish smile, your cheeks warming. “I won’t.”
She tilts her head slightly, studying you with a look that sends a flutter through your chest. “Good. Now go get some sleep. You’ll need it.”
Her hand lingers near yours for just a second longer before she turns and walks away, her confident stride as magnetic as ever.
<<else>>
Charlotte stops at the crossroads, turning to face you with her usual air of confidence. “Well, this is where we part ways,” she says, her tone casual but her gaze sharp, as though she’s reading your every thought.
“Yeah,” you reply, your voice a little quieter than you’d like.
She crosses her arms, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Tomorrow’s a big day, you know. Try not to trip over yourself. It’d be embarrassing for both of us.”
You can’t help but chuckle, despite your nerves. “I’ll do my best.”
Charlotte smirks, giving you a small nod. “Good. Now get some rest. You’re going to need it.”
She lingers for just a moment longer, her presence both reassuring and intimidating, before turning and walking away, her figure fading into the shadows of the campus path.
<</if>>
You stand there for a moment, watching her disappear into the distance, your heart beating a little faster than usual. With a deep breath, you turn and head toward your home, the weight of tomorrow’s presentation pressing on your mind.
[[You reach home|Home 14]]
You sat at your desk, staring at the yellow dress hanging on the closet door. It seemed to glow softly under the dim light, a reminder of what was to come.
Your thoughts churned with anticipation and doubt, replaying every critique and comment from the past week. Charlotte’s voice echoed in your mind: “Presentation is everything.” You could practically feel her sharp eyes appraising every detail.
“What if it’s not enough?” you muttered to yourself, the words barely audible in the stillness of the room. The dress was beautiful—there was no denying that—but would it be enough to impress Madame Leclair? To meet Charlotte’s expectations?
You exhaled deeply, running a hand through your hair. Failure wasn’t an option, but the weight of the pressure felt like it might crush you. Still, somewhere deep down, a flicker of determination stirred.
“This is what you’ve worked for,” you whispered, gripping the desk’s edge. “You’ve got this.”
With one last glance at the dress, you turned off the light and climbed into bed, forcing your racing mind to settle. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
[[Morning Day 15]]
The campus restaurant is cozy, with warm lighting and the faint aroma of spices lingering in the air. Charlotte confidently picks a table near the window, pulling out a chair for herself and gesturing for you to sit opposite her.
<img src="images/day14/dinner.jpg"/>
As the two of you settle in, Charlotte orders with ease, her tone assertive but polite as she addresses the server. You find yourself both intimidated and comforted by her self-assured demeanor.
“So,” she begins, leaning back slightly as she looks you over, “what did you think of today’s practice? Be honest.”
You hesitate, trying to find the right words. “It was… intense,” you admit, feeling a slight blush creep into your cheeks. “But I think I learned a lot.”
Charlotte chuckles, her gaze sharp yet amused. “Intense is how you get results. You’ll thank me for it tomorrow—if you don’t trip over yourself, that is.”
Her teasing tone makes you smile despite yourself. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”
“Nope,” she says with a grin. “Why should I? You’ve got potential, but potential doesn’t mean much without discipline. And lucky for you, discipline is my specialty.”
Her confidence is magnetic, and before you know it, you’re blushing under her gaze. The way she speaks, the way she carries herself—it’s all so different from what you’re used to.
“You’re blushing,” she notes with a smirk, resting her chin on her hand. “What’s on your mind? Don’t tell me I’ve already got you wrapped around my finger.”
You stammer, caught off guard. “N-no! I just—uh, it’s not that.”
“Relax,” she says, her teasing voice softening just a bit. “I’m just messing with you. But seriously, you’ve got to work on that confidence of yours. You’ll never impress anyone if you can’t keep up with me.”
[[The Walk Back]]
After dinner, the two of you step out into the cool night air. The campus is quiet, the streetlamps casting soft pools of light along the path. Charlotte walks beside you, her hands casually tucked into her coat pockets, while you clutch your own arms for warmth.
As you walk, you can’t help but glance at her. The confidence she radiates is almost overwhelming, but there’s something comforting about it too. You feel safe, like you can let your guard down around her.
Without thinking, your hand twitches, an impulse to reach out to hers. But your nerves hold you back, your heart pounding at the thought.
After dinner, the two of you step out into the cool night air. The campus is quiet, the streetlamps casting soft pools of light along the path. Charlotte walks beside you, her hands casually tucked into her coat pockets, while you clutch your own arms for warmth.
As you walk, you can’t help but glance at her. The confidence she radiates is almost overwhelming, but there’s something comforting about it too. You feel safe, like you can let your guard down around her.
Without thinking, your hand twitches, an impulse to reach out to hers. But your nerves hold you back, your heart pounding at the thought.
**What do you do?**
[[Reach for her hand]](display: "Reach")
[[Stay shy and keep walking]](display: "Shy")
You arrive at the store a little earlier than usual, clock in, and start your shift. It’s a quiet morning, but it gives you time to talk to Samantha. She’s folding clothes near the counter, looking as stylish as always with her red hair tied back neatly and her uniform immaculate. She glances up at you when you approach.
“Hey,” you begin, your voice tentative, “I’ve decided on my course for college.”
“Oh?” She tilts her head, a slight smile on her lips. “What’s it gonna be?”
“Football,” you say, a little more confidently this time. “I played when I was younger, until I was about 10. But... well, the bullying from older kids made me stop. I’m going to give it another go.”
Samantha raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Football, huh? That’s a big move. I like it. I’m sure you’ll do great.”
You feel a rush of relief at her reaction. “Thanks, Samantha. It’s been hard, you know? Deciding what to do and all. But football feels right.”
She pats you on the shoulder with a soft chuckle. “You’ve got this. Just make sure you take care of yourself too, alright?”
[[Head for home]]The workday eventually winds down, and you head back home. You push open the front door, and the familiar scent of your mom’s cooking greets you. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, taking a moment to relax with a cup of tea. As you step in, she looks up with a surprised smile.
“Look who’s here early! I thought you wouldn’t be home until later,” she says, clearly pleased. “I promised I’d be back by Monday. It’s good to see you.”
You smile weakly, but before you can speak, the familiar sound of footsteps echoes from upstairs. Your sister is home. Her presence immediately fills the house, and you can already feel that familiar tension building in the air.
“Dinner’s almost ready, Mom,” your sister says, striding into the kitchen, wearing that smug expression you know so well. “Let’s eat soon, yeah?”
You nod, already mentally preparing for what’s about to happen. Your sister doesn't let you off easy, especially when she has something over you.
As you begin setting the table, your mom asks, “So, how’s everything going with your college plans? Have you made a decision yet?”
You hesitate for a moment, then say, “Yeah, I’ve decided on football. I played when I was younger, and I’m going to try again. I think it’s the right choice.”
Your mom’s eyes widen in surprise. “Football? That’s great! I didn’t think you were still interested in that. I’m proud of you.”
But just then, your sister pipes up, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Football? Really? You? I can’t picture you as an athlete, maybe a backup cheerleader at best,” she laughs, clearly enjoying the jab.
You feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks, but you force yourself to stay calm. Your sister’s words sting, but you’re determined to push through. “I’m serious,” you reply, trying to keep your tone steady. “I think I can do it.”
She smirks, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, you’ll be the water boy, or better yet, just carry the team’s bags. Don’t think anyone’s going to want you in the game, little brother,” she taunts.
You turn away quickly, feeling your stomach churn. But your mom intervenes before the teasing can go too far.
“That’s enough, sweetie,” she says, her voice a little firmer. “Let your brother do what he wants. If football’s what he’s passionate about, then I support it.”
The rest of dinner is quieter, with your sister throwing occasional barbs your way, but your mom doesn’t let it escalate. You continue setting the table, bringing the water, fetching her jacket, and following your sister’s commands without protest. It’s a strange, uncomfortable routine that feels like you’re stuck in a loop, but what choice do you have? The photos and videos from last Saturday’s prank are still fresh in your mind, and you know she’s got the power to ruin you with them.
After dinner, your sister tells you to clean up. “Get the dishes done, now,” she demands.
You silently obey, clearing the table and washing the dishes, feeling the weight of your sister’s control pressing down on you. Your mom watches, quiet, but doesn’t interfere. Maybe she doesn’t know how to handle this, or maybe she’s too tired to fight it. Either way, you feel trapped in a cycle that keeps repeating itself.
[[Night]]When the last of the dishes are cleaned and put away, you head upstairs to your room, your body aching from the day’s work and chores. You lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling, your mind spinning with everything that’s happened.
You think about football, about your decision to go for it, and about Samantha. But your sister’s mocking words ring in your ears, her insults cutting deeper than you’d like to admit. Still, there’s a fire inside you now—a determination to prove her wrong, to break free from her control, and to take charge of your own life.
Tomorrow is a new day, and you’re going to take one more step toward the future you want.
With that thought, you close your eyes and let sleep take you, knowing that things are going to change, no matter what.
[[Wake up, Day 9]][[First Day of practice]]The afternoon sun hangs high, its rays casting long shadows across the pristine grass of the football field. A faint breeze rustles the leaves of the nearby trees, offering a hint of relief from the heat as you step onto the field. It’s been years since you last played football—or as Coach Jonathan would insist, the original football.
You spot Coach Jonathan near the center of the pitch, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the group of students gathering around him. His presence is magnetic, his demeanor equal parts commanding and casual.
“Ah, look who’s back!” he calls out when he spots you, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Thought you might’ve changed your mind after our chat on class selection day. Glad to see you didn’t chicken out.”
“I’m ready to give it my best, Coach,” you reply, standing a little straighter despite the nervous flutter in your chest.
“Good attitude,” he says, his grin widening. Then, with a mock-serious squint, he adds, “But don’t think I didn’t notice those noodle arms of yours. Do they even sell shirts in your size, or do you shop in the kids’ section?”
The group chuckles, and you feel your face flush, but you catch the lighthearted tone behind his words.
“Relax, kid,” Coach Jonathan continues, patting you on the shoulder. “I don’t care if you’re built like a scarecrow or a tank. Size doesn’t mean squat here. What matters is strength, skill, and determination—and that’s what we’re gonna build.”
He steps back, addressing the whole group now. “First things first: this isn’t ‘soccer.’” He emphasizes the last word with exaggerated disdain, earning a few laughs. “This is football. The beautiful game. The original. The kind where your feet actually do the work, not your hands. Got it?”
“Yes, Coach!” the group answers in unison.
“Good! Now, pair up and let’s get warmed up. Passing drills! Let’s see who here actually knows how to kick a ball without sending it into orbit.”
You find yourself paired with a tall, muscular player who introduces himself as Ryan. He’s got an easygoing smile and a firm handshake, and within minutes, he’s offering tips on your passing technique.
“Don’t overthink it,” Ryan says as you practice. “Relax your body, keep your eye on the ball, and follow through. You’ve got this.”
The drills continue, and despite your initial nervousness, you start to find your rhythm. Coach Jonathan moves through the group, cracking jokes and offering pointers in equal measure.
“Nice pass, scarecrow!” he calls to you after a particularly solid kick. “Guess those noodle arms don’t affect your legs after all!”
The group laughs again, but this time, you find yourself laughing along. The teasing feels less like ridicule and more like camaraderie, and by the end of the session, you’re feeling a little more confident.
As practice wraps up, Coach Jonathan gathers everyone together. “Good work today, folks. Remember: this isn’t just about what you can do now—it’s about what you’re willing to work for. We’re here to get better, not to be perfect on day one. See you all tomorrow.”
As you leave the field, Ryan claps you on the back. “Not bad for your first day. You stick with it, and you’ll be surprising a lot of people.”
You smile, feeling a spark of determination igniting within you. This is only the beginning.
[[Work, Day 9]]After practice, you make your way to work, still feeling the soreness in your legs and back. The drills were tougher than you expected, and every step reminds you of the intense effort you put in. By the time you arrive at the store, the stiffness in your movements must be pretty obvious because Samantha notices immediately.
“Well, look at you,” she says with a teasing grin as you shuffle toward the break room. “First day of football practice, huh? Didn’t take long to turn you into a walking disaster.”
You chuckle, easing into a chair to change your shoes. “Yeah, it was intense. Coach isn’t shy about pushing people.”
“Figures,” she replies, leaning against the counter with an amused expression. “You tell me yesterday you’re jumping back into football, and now you’re hobbling around like you fought a bear. Guess it’s tougher than you remembered?”
“A lot tougher,” you admit, wincing as you stretch your legs. “But it felt good, you know? Like I’m actually working toward something.”
Samantha nods, her teasing grin giving way to something more supportive. “Well, good for you. Just don’t overdo it. We can’t have you collapsing in the middle of the store—you’ve got shirts to fold and customers to charm.”
You laugh, her playful tone helping to lift the weight of the day. “I’ll manage. But don’t blame me if I’m a little slower than usual.”
“Deal,” she says, turning toward the shop floor.
Day goes on like normal
[[Home, day 9]]The house is unusually quiet when you wake up. After a quick shower, you head downstairs and notice something out of place on the kitchen counter: a handwritten note.
“Had to leave early for a work trip. I’ll be back Thursday next week. Be good. Love, Mom.”
You let out a sigh, folding the note and setting it aside. You glance around the kitchen, expecting a moment of peace, but your eyes land on another piece of paper—this one bearing your sister’s unmistakable handwriting.
“To-Do List:”
Vacuum the living room.
Do the laundry.
Clean the bathroom.
Prepare dinner (recipe attached).
Wash the dishes after.
The final note is scrawled in bold letters:
“DON’T MESS THIS UP.”
You clench your jaw but know better than to ignore her commands. The memory of last Saturday’s humiliation flashes through your mind, reminding you exactly why you’re stuck following her orders.
[[Do the work]]The rest of the day passes in a blur of chores. You vacuum the living room, making sure every corner is spotless. Laundry takes longer than expected, and you find yourself frustrated as you fold each item with precision, just in case she checks later.
The bathroom is next, scrubbing tiles and polishing mirrors until everything gleams. By the time you start preparing dinner, you’re already exhausted. The recipe your sister provided is unnecessarily complicated, but you follow it step by step, knowing she’ll have something to say if it’s not perfect.
As the smell of cooking fills the kitchen, you can’t help but wonder if she’s just doing this to remind you of her control.
Finally, with dinner prepared and the dishes washed, you collapse onto your bed. The day’s efforts leave your body aching, but at least the list is complete.
[[Sleep time]]Lying in the darkness, you stare at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Football practice was supposed to be the start of something new, a chance to reclaim some control over your life. But here you are, still tethered to your sister’s demands, trapped by the photos and videos she holds over you.
Still, a spark of determination flickers. This won’t last forever. It can’t.
Eventually, the exhaustion pulls you under, and you drift into sleep.
[[Morning Day 10]]The soft glow of the morning sun streamed through the curtains, its warmth gently nudging you awake. Today wasn’t just another Monday. It was presentation day.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, the events of the previous week swirled in your mind. Charlotte’s expectations, Madame Leclair’s sharp gaze, and the relentless pressure to prove yourself loomed like a weight on your chest. Taking a deep breath, you glanced at the carefully hung yellow dress on the closet door—a dress that carried Charlotte's approval and the burden of first impressions.
Getting ready felt like a delicate performance. You carefully styled your hair, subtly yet neatly, and ensured your shoes were polished and your appearance flawless. Standing in front of the mirror, you practiced walking a few steps in the dress, the fabric swishing lightly with each movement. It wasn’t just about wearing the dress; it was about wearing the confidence Charlotte demanded.
By the time you were ready, nerves were balanced by a flicker of determination. With a final look in the mirror, you whispered to yourself, “You’ve got this.”
The bus ride to college felt longer than usual, each bump a reminder of the challenge ahead. Your mind raced with questions: What will they say? Will I mess up? Will Charlotte be disappointed? But as the campus came into view, you straightened your back, holding on to the one thought that mattered: I’ve worked for this, and I’ll show them I belong here.
The day had begun, and it was time to face it head-on.
[[Presentation Day]]The classroom buzzed with low chatter as students prepared for the day's presentations. The faint hum of sewing machines in the adjacent room was a constant reminder of the fashion world’s meticulous demands.
Charlotte stood near her usual spot, clipboard in hand, her sharp eyes scanning the room. As the protagonist entered, she beckoned them over with a subtle tilt of her head.
<img src="images/day15/fitting.jpg"/>
“Well, you look... prepared,” Charlotte said, her tone walking the fine line between a compliment and an expectation. “But we can do more.”
She tapped her pen thoughtfully against the clipboard and eyed the yellow dress. “Presentation isn’t just about the outfit; it’s about the full package. I have the tools—makeup, hair extensions, the works. It will make the dress stand out, and it will certainly leave an impression. Of course...” she paused, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips, “if you’re not ready for that level of commitment, you can present as you are. The choice is yours.”
Charlotte’s gaze didn’t waver, making it clear this wasn’t just a casual offer. It was a test. A chance to prove how far the protagonist was willing to go to embrace the world of fashion.
You hesitated. The thought of sitting through hair and makeup felt daunting, like stepping into an unfamiliar world. But the alternative—presenting without it—seemed safer, less intimidating, yet risked leaving less impact.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, glancing at her watch. “Well? What’s it going to be?”
Choice:
[[Go all-in]]: Accept Charlotte’s offer for makeup and hair extensions, embracing the full experience.
[[Stay as is]]: Present the dress without additional changes, relying on confidence and the outfit’s design to speak for itself.<<set $presentationStyle = "allin">>
You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”
Charlotte’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Good. Follow me.”
She led you to a corner of the classroom where a vanity station was set up, complete with makeup kits, brushes, and an array of hair tools. Without hesitation, she began.
“You’re braver than most,” Charlotte commented as she expertly applied foundation and blush. “Many shy away from the spotlight, but that’s not how you make an impression in this field.”
The process was a blur of brushes, clips, and sprays. Within minutes, hair extensions were clipped in, giving your hairstyle a sleek, polished look. The makeup enhanced your features, soft yet striking, creating a version of yourself you barely recognized but couldn’t help admiring.
<img src="images/day15/allin.jpg"/>
As you stepped back into the classroom, you felt every head turn in your direction. Whispers floated through the air, and awe spread among your peers.
<img src="images/day15/show.jpg"/>
When it was your turn to present, Madame Leclair’s discerning eye studied you closely. Her lips curled into a rare smile. “Well done. You’ve shown not just an understanding of fashion but of presentation. This is what it means to sell your vision.”
Charlotte gave you an approving nod as you finished. “You took a risk, and it paid off. That’s the spirit of fashion.”
Walking back to your seat, you felt a sense of pride. You’d stepped out of your comfort zone, and for the first time, it felt like you belonged in this world.
[[Presentation Ends]] <<$presentationStyle = "minimal">>
You hesitated, then shook your head. “I think I’ll present as I am.”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow but said nothing, her expression unreadable. “Your choice. Let’s see how you handle it.”
The class settled as you stepped forward in the yellow dress. Without the enhancements, your appearance felt understated. Every step to the front of the room was a battle to keep your confidence intact.
<img src="images/day15/asis.jpg"/>
Madame Leclair’s gaze was sharp, her critique measured as she finally spoke. “The design is good, but the delivery is lacking. In fashion, every detail matters—how you present yourself is as important as the garment.”
The mixed feedback from classmates didn’t help. Some offered polite nods, while others exchanged glances that made your stomach twist.
Afterward, Charlotte approached, arms crossed. Her voice was calm, but her tone carried a hint of disappointment. “You played it safe. Fashion isn’t about blending in; it’s about standing out. Think about that for next time.”
You walked away with a heavy heart, the weight of her words lingering. While the day hadn’t been a failure, it left you with a determination to do better—to embrace the lessons and prove yourself in a way no one could ignore.
[[Presentation Ends]]
<<if $presentationStyle == "allin">>
Charlotte’s lips curved into a faint smile as she looked you over. “You know,” she began, her tone measured but laced with approval, “I didn’t expect you to go all-in, but you did. And it paid off.”
She gestured toward the now-empty front of the room where you had stood moments ago. “Your presentation wasn’t just about the dress. You brought it to life. The hair, the makeup, the way you carried yourself—it all told a story.”
Her expression grew thoughtful as she tapped her clipboard. “There’s a fine line between wearing a dress and letting it wear you. Today, you wore it, and that’s a skill worth holding onto.”
She paused, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You surprised me. Keep doing that.”
Before turning away, she gave your shoulder a light pat—an uncharacteristically warm gesture that left you both stunned and oddly comforted.
<<else>>
Charlotte tilted her head, studying you with an appraising look. “You played it safe,” she said after a moment, her tone neutral but not unkind.
She gestured slightly toward the dress. “The design was solid, and your confidence carried you further than I expected. But there’s more to fashion than just the garment. Presentation matters—it’s the difference between being noticed and being remembered.”
Her eyes softened briefly, and her voice lowered. “That said, I can see you’re finding your footing. Every step counts, even the cautious ones. Learn from today and let it push you forward.”
Charlotte’s hand lingered briefly on the back of your chair before she turned to leave—a rare, quiet gesture that spoke more than her words.
<</if>>
Charlotte’s feedback carried a mix of critique and encouragement, her usual sharpness tempered by a flicker of something warmer. For the first time, it felt like you weren’t just a student to her—you were someone worth mentoring.
[[You are left with a smile to change and get yourself to work]]The store was quieter than usual, the soft hum of air conditioning filling the space as Samantha leaned on the counter. “So, how’d it go today?” she asked, tilting her head.
You hesitated for a moment before pulling out their phone, flipping through photos of your presentation in the yellow dress.
Samantha leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued.
<<if $presentationStyle == "allin">>
Her eyes lit up as she saw the polished look. “Holy—wow!” she exclaimed, grinning. “You went all out, didn’t you? Makeup, hair, the works. That’s the kind of stuff that gets noticed! Bet you turned a few heads in class, huh?”
She playfully nudged the protagonist’s arm. “You’re a natural at this. Seriously, keep that energy going, and you’re going to crush it in this program.”
<<else>>
Samantha studied the photos, her expression thoughtful. “Not bad, not bad,” she said, nodding slowly. “You’ve got the dress down, but it feels like you held back a little. I mean, it’s good, but imagine the impact if you’d jazzed it up with some flair, you know? A little makeup, maybe some accessories?”
She gave a reassuring smile. “Still, it’s a solid start. You’ll get there. Just don’t be afraid to push the envelope next time!” <</if>>
Rest of the day is uneventful, As you manager appears and hands you your weekly wages with a smile and a "Thanks"
[[You head home with more hope than you have had in a whille]]
You trudged home, the weight of the day’s events still lingering in your mind. The warm glow of satisfaction from the presentation began to fade as you approached the front door. You knew what awaited them inside—a list of chores dictated by your sister, as relentless as ever.
As expected, the list was pinned to the fridge, written in her sharp, authoritative handwriting:
Clean the living room.
Scrub the bathroom floors.
Wash and fold the laundry.
Prepare dinner by 7 PM.
Underneath the list was a note scrawled in red ink:
"And no slacking! I’ll be checking when I get home."
You sighed and set their bag down. The transition from school to household servitude was always jarring, but there was no time to dwell on it.
[[You finish everything like a well oiled machine before quickly escaping to your room before your sister came home]]You slip into your room, shutting the door softly to avoid alerting your sister. The house is quiet now, but tension lingers in the air. You collapse onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the day replay in your mind.
<<if $presentationStyle == "allin">>
A small smile creeps across your face as you think back to the classroom. The compliments from Madame Leclair and Charlotte’s look of approval play on a loop in your mind.
Going all in had been nerve-wracking, but it was worth it. The makeup, the hair—it felt transformative, even if just for a moment. It wasn’t just about impressing the class; it felt like you’d uncovered a side of yourself you hadn’t expected to see.
“Maybe I’m not as far from this world as I thought,” you muse. There’s a mix of pride and confusion swirling inside you. Sure, it was uncomfortable at first, but the exhilaration of the moment still lingers.
As you close your eyes, one thought sticks with you: What if this is just the beginning?
<<else>>
You can’t stop replaying the mixed feedback from the day in your head. Madame Leclair’s critique echoes loudest: “The design is good, but the delivery is lacking.”
Did you hold back? Maybe. Charlotte’s comment about standing out still stings, but it’s not wrong. You played it safe, and it showed.
“I need to do better,” you think, rolling onto your side. Frustration builds, but so does determination. You’re not going to let this moment define your journey. Next time, you’ll push harder, take the risks that matter.
As sleep pulls you under, you resolve to make the next opportunity count, no matter the cost.<</if>>
[[Tuesday, Day 16]]You wake up with the faint morning light spilling into your room. The yellow gown hangs in its spot, a vivid reminder of yesterday’s presentation. The memory brings a mix of emotions—pride, nervousness, and lingering uncertainty about the impression you left.
As you get ready, Charlotte’s words from yesterday echo in your mind: “Fashion isn’t about blending in. It’s about making a statement.” Today’s session with her feels both exciting and daunting.
[[You get ready and reach college after a normal morning]]The fashion classroom is buzzing as students file in. Sketchpads and pencils are scattered across desks, and the faint scent of fabric and paper fills the air. Charlotte stands at the front, flipping through a portfolio, her glasses perched on her nose.
When she spots you, she gestures for you to join her.
“You’re here,” she says without looking up. “Good. Let’s get to work.”
As you settle in, Charlotte slides a blank sheet of paper toward you and points to a pencil. “Sketch me something that reflects your style—something uniquely you.”
You hesitate, gripping the pencil. “What exactly do you mean by ‘my style’?”
She finally looks up, fixing you with her sharp gaze. “I mean, what do you want to say with your designs? Who are you trying to be?”
Her words feel heavier than they should. You glance at the blank page, then back at her. “I don’t know yet.”
Charlotte sighs, her tone softening just a fraction. “Then figure it out. Start by taking risks, even if they don’t work. Yesterday, you showed potential, but you also hesitated. Fashion doesn’t wait for hesitation.”
You nod and begin sketching, letting your mind wander. Shapes and lines flow onto the paper—tentative at first but gaining confidence with each stroke.
As Charlotte leans over to examine your work, she raises an eyebrow. “Interesting. Not quite there yet, but there’s something here.” She taps the page with her finger. “See this? You’re playing it safe again. Push further. Break the rules.”
You blink, unsure how to respond. “Break the rules? Like how?”
Charlotte smirks. “If you’re asking me that, you’re still too cautious. Take this sketch home and think about it. Come back with something that scares you—something bold.”
[[You head to work lost in your muse]]The hum of the store’s air conditioning is oddly soothing after the intensity of class. Samantha greets you with her usual grin as you clock in.
“Hey, superstar. How’s the fashion world treating you today?” she teases, leaning casually on the counter.
You chuckle, pulling out your sketchbook. “Charlotte told me to ‘break the rules.’ Not exactly sure what she means yet.”
Samantha tilts her head, examining your sketch. “Hmm. Not bad, but yeah, this feels… safe. You’re thinking too much. Let loose a little.”
The female manager joins the conversation, glancing at the sketch. “Charlotte’s right, you know. Safe is forgettable. Try something no one expects—something that makes people stop and look.”
You sigh, nodding slowly. “Easier said than done.”
Samantha pats your shoulder. “Hey, you’ve got this. Just don’t overthink it. And if you need inspiration, I’m always here to model myself or style you”
[[You return to your thoughts and work, then you return home]]
Back home, your sister’s chore list is pinned to the fridge again. The tasks are the usual—cleaning, vacuuming, and preparing dinner. As you scrub the kitchen counter, you replay the conversations from earlier in your mind.
“Come back with something that scares you,” Charlotte had said. What would that even look like? How could you design something bold when you barely know what your own style is?
You glance at your sketchbook lying on the table, determination slowly building.
[[Work on Inspiration]]You sit at your desk, sketchbook open and pencil in hand. The events of the day replay in your mind—Charlotte’s sharp critiques, Samantha’s playful encouragement, and the lingering pressure to prove yourself.
Her words echo clearly: “Take risks. Break the rules.”
You stare at the blank page, considering your next move. Two ideas begin to form in your mind, each pulling you in a different direction.
[[A Modern Yet Classy Design]]
You decide to sketch something modern, with clean lines and a sophisticated edge. It’s a safe but elegant approach, blending current trends with timeless style.
[[A Bold Take on a Classic Design]]
You decide to sketch something bold—an unexpected twist on a traditional concept. It feels daring, risky even, but it might just be the kind of boldness Charlotte is looking for.
<<set $designChoice = "boldClassic">>
Your pencil flies across the page, sketching out exaggerated curves and daring contrasts. You take a classic design—perhaps a Victorian-inspired gown—and twist it, adding bold colors and unexpected textures.
The result is striking, almost audacious. You’re not sure how it will be received, but it feels exhilarating to create something so daring.
“This could either be a disaster or something amazing,” you muse as you close the sketchbook with a small smile.
[[You sleep with a smile]]<<set $designChoice = "modernClassy">>
Your pencil moves across the page with deliberate strokes, forming a sleek, modern silhouette. The design exudes elegance, with sharp angles and minimalist details that give it a refined, contemporary feel.
You sit back and examine your work, nodding with satisfaction. It’s not groundbreaking, but it’s polished and confident—something you can be proud of.
“Maybe this is my style,” you think, closing the sketchbook.
[[You sleep with a smile]]You wake up with the faint morning light spilling into your room. The yellow gown hangs in its spot, a vivid reminder of yesterday’s presentation. The memory brings a mix of emotions—pride, nervousness, and lingering uncertainty about the impression you left.
As you get ready, you are ready to find your inspiration
[[You head to college inspired]]The classroom is quieter today, the usual chatter replaced by focused concentration. Madame Leclair stands at the front, gesturing toward a board covered in fabric samples and color charts.
“Today, we focus on the fundamentals,” she announces, her voice firm. “Fabric compatibility, color matching, and the subtleties of texture. These are the building blocks of good design.”
You spend the session taking notes and analyzing the samples she passes around. While less intense than working directly with Charlotte, the lesson reminds you of the importance of mastering the basics.
Toward the end of the class, Madame Leclair glances your way and offers a nod of acknowledgment, as if silently approving your focus.
[[Off to work]]The store is buzzing as usual, but something feels different today. Samantha waves you over, a curious look on her face. Before she can speak, the manager rushes in, clipboard in hand and a look of mild panic on her face.
“We’ve got a problem,” she starts, her words spilling out in a rush. “The kiosk setup in the middle of the mall—no one’s available to handle it. I need someone to set it up, interact with customers, and... model the collection. Like, now.”
Samantha smirks, glancing at you. “Sounds like a big deal. You up for it?”
The manager looks between the two of you, her expression pleading. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t urgent. It’s a huge opportunity for exposure, but it’s also a lot of responsibility. Can one of you handle this?”
[[ummm....]]
[[I can help you out]]When the manager explains the situation, you step back, shaking your head. “I don’t think I’m the right person for this.”
The manager frowns slightly but nods. Before the silence becomes awkward, Samantha steps forward with a playful grin. “I’ll do it! I’ve always wanted to be a model for a day.”
The manager brightens instantly. “Thank you, Samantha. You’re a lifesaver.”
While Samantha changes into a display outfit, you focus on restocking shelves and helping customers. The store hums with activity, but your thoughts drift to the kiosk. You wonder how Samantha is handling the attention, imagining her laughing and engaging effortlessly with shoppers.
She returns later, glowing with excitement. “That was so fun!” she exclaims, her cheeks flushed. “Honestly, you should’ve done it. It wasn’t that bad!”
Her teasing is lighthearted, but the manager’s passing comment earlier sticks with you: “It could’ve been a good opportunity for you.”
The day ends uneventfully, but your choice leaves you with a mix of relief and lingering doubt.
<<set $kioskhelp = "Sam">>
[[Home Day17]]
The manager’s relief is palpable as she pulls out two outfits. “Perfect! Here’s what we’ve got,” she says, holding them up for you to see.
<<set $kioskhelp = "You">>
[[Outfit 1: Sleek and Professional (Unisex)]]
[[Outfit 2: Feminine and Elegant]]
<<set $kioskOutfit to "professional">>
The manager hands you the light-gray blazer and lavender turtleneck, a look you’re far more comfortable with. You quickly slip into the outfit, smoothing the soft fabric and adjusting the blazer’s sharp lines in the mirror.
Stepping out of the changing area, you feel the outfit's neatness boost your confidence. The black slim-fit trousers add a polished touch, and the polished loafers complete the look.
As you stand by the kiosk, surrounded by mannequins and shoppers bustling through the mall, you draw upon your recent experience at the fashion presentation. You straighten your back, adopt a confident posture, and force a small smile despite the nerves churning in your stomach
.
<img src="images/day17/uni.jpg"/>
Shoppers stop to admire the display, some nodding approvingly at the outfit. The manager sidles up beside you, a beaming smile on her face. “Look at you—perfect! And look at the attention you’re pulling in. I knew you’d do great.”
Samantha gives you a thumbs-up from her spot near the counter. “Looking good!” she calls out with a grin.
The event passes smoothly, your presentation drawing more people toward the kiosk. By the end, the manager is glowing with gratitude. “You were fantastic today,” she says. “Thank you for stepping up—it means a lot.”
Samantha leans in as you’re packing up. “See? You’ve got the skills. You handled that like a pro.” Her words, lighthearted but genuine, leave you feeling a little closer to both her and the manager.
[[A little refelection before heading home]]<<set $kioskOutfit to "feminine">>
Your stomach twists as you glance at the teal A-line dress, its flowing pleats and delicate belt exuding charm. Before you can hesitate, you hear your own voice: “I’ll take this one.”
Samantha raises an eyebrow but grins. “Bold choice. I like it.”
You step into the changing area and slip on the dress, the soft fabric swishing lightly against your legs. The matching teal heels add a touch of height, and the black cardigan lends a sense of balance. Taking a deep breath, you step out and catch your reflection. It’s a strange mix of unease and confidence—you’ve never worn something quite like this before.
<img src="images/day17/fem.jpg"/>
As you stand at the kiosk, you draw on the resolve you found during the recent fashion presentation. Shoulders back, chin up. You walk with deliberate poise, showcasing the outfit like it’s part of a runway.
Shoppers pause, some murmuring compliments. Others aren’t as kind—a couple of catcalls break through the hum of the crowd, and your cheeks burn.
But you power through, forcing a smile and focusing on the people genuinely interested. The manager stands nearby, radiating pride. “You’re doing fantastic,” she says softly. “Keep it up.”
Samantha strolls over during a quiet moment, her expression warm. “You’re handling this better than I could’ve imagined. Honestly, I’m impressed.”
By the end of the event, you’re exhausted but proud. The manager pats your shoulder. “You nailed it today. I’m so grateful for your help.”
Samantha nudges you playfully. “Not bad, huh? You might’ve just earned the title of ‘star model.’” Her teasing tone doesn’t mask the genuine admiration in her eyes, leaving you with a newfound sense of camaraderie.
[[A little refelection before heading home]]the day ends with a deeper bond between you, Samantha, and the manager. The experience, while challenging, pushes you out of your comfort zone and leaves you with a flicker of pride.
[[Home Day17]]The moment you step through the front door, you spot it—a neatly written list taped to the fridge, your sister’s handwriting unmistakable.
You sigh, the weight of the day already heavy on your shoulders as you approach the list.
*"Chores for Today:
Clean the kitchen thoroughly.
Fold the laundry in the living room.
Vacuum the carpets upstairs.
Take out the trash before dinner.
Prepare dessert—I’m in the mood for something sweet."*
Your hands tighten into fists. You glance around, hoping to catch her smirking somewhere in the shadows, but the house is silent. Of course, she’s not here to help—she never is.
With no choice but to get started, you throw your bag onto the couch and begin working through the tasks. The repetition of cleaning and tidying feels endless, but it keeps your mind occupied. By the time you finish, the house looks spotless, and the faint aroma of chocolate wafts through the air from the dessert you managed to whip up.
[[You sleep like a baby]]The next morning, you wake up feeling groggy, the weight of yesterday’s tasks still lingering. You get dressed quickly, throwing on your usual clothes, and head out for another day of classes.
The campus is quiet as you arrive, the crisp morning air sharpening your focus. As you step into the classroom, Madame Leclair is already waiting, her sharp gaze scanning the room.
[[Fashion Design Class 5]] The lesson is straightforward—a review of foundational design principles. Madame Leclair lectures about the importance of proportions, the impact of color palettes, and the subtle art of creating cohesion in a collection.
“Remember,” she says, her tone firm but inspiring, “fashion is not about chaos. It is about controlled creativity. A single discordant element can ruin the harmony of your work.”
The class proceeds uneventfully, but you take diligent notes, knowing that every detail might prove valuable later.
[[Work Again]]As you arrive at work, Samantha is already waiting at the counter, her grin widening as you walk in.
<<if $kioskhelp == "You">>
Samantha leans against the counter, her arms crossed. “So, how does it feel being the center of attention?” she teases. “I saw few shoppers snapping pictures. You looked like a natural.”
You roll your eyes but can’t help a small smile. “It was nerve-wracking, but... kind of fun. I guess.”
The manager passes by, overhearing the exchange. “Fun? You were fantastic,” she says warmly. “You’ve got a real knack for presentation. Keep it up—you’ll go far.”
Her words make your cheeks warm, but you nod. “Thanks.”
<<else>>
Samantha raises an eyebrow as you approach. “So, are you ready to jump in next time? Because I totally nailed it,” she says with a laugh.
You chuckle, shaking your head. “I’m glad you had fun.”
The manager stops by, nodding at both of you. “Samantha was great, but I hope you’ll step up next time. Opportunities like that don’t come around often.”
You nod, her words sinking in.
<</if>>
[[Well that was another fine day of work]]You reach home and you can tell from the smell in the house mom's back.
The dining room feels warmer with your mother’s presence, the usual tension that accompanies your sister’s games subdued—though not entirely absent. The table is laid out meticulously, your sister’s handiwork evident in every detail.
Your mother smiles as she serves herself. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a proper meal at home. This looks wonderful.”
Your sister, always quick to claim credit, leans back smugly. “Well, I do try to keep things in order around here.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, focusing on your plate. The dinner conversation flows from your mother’s work stories to light discussions about family, but every so often, her gaze flickers toward you, her brow slightly furrowed.
“So,” your mother says after a moment, turning to you, “you’ve been... helping out a lot, I hear.”
You nod, keeping your response neutral. “Yeah. Just doing what needs to be done.”
Your sister chimes in before you can elaborate, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “He's been such a treasure lately. Always so eager to lend a hand. Right, darling?”
The emphasis on “darling” makes your stomach churn, but you manage a polite smile. “Sure.”
Your mother tilts her head slightly, her concern evident, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she shifts the conversation to you. “And how’s school going? The fashion design program sounds fascinating.”
“It’s... challenging,” you admit. “But I’m learning a lot.”
Your sister cuts in with a sly grin. “He's even taken up a job recently. Isn’t that right?”
The heat rises to your cheeks as your mother’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Job? That’s new.”
“It’s nothing, it's normal sales job at a store. I mostly work the register” you mumble, but your sister’s chuckle says otherwise.
As the meal wraps up, your mother pats your hand gently. “I’m proud of you,” she says softly, her eyes kind. “Keep working hard.”
The words are a small comfort as you help clear the table, your sister’s satisfied smirk lingering in your peripheral vision.
[[Sleep comes easy]]After cleaning up and finishing the remaining chores, you retreat to your room, the day’s events replaying in your mind. The quiet hum of the house feels heavier with your mother’s presence, her concern lingering in the back of your thoughts.
As you settle into bed, the familiar sense of exhaustion washes over you. Your sister’s control, your mother’s subtle questions, and the pressures of college weigh heavily, but sleep comes quickly, offering a brief reprieve from it all.
[[Frifay Morning Day 19]]You wake to the smell of coffee and toast drifting through the house. Heading to the kitchen, you find your mother already dressed, her suitcase by the door.
“Good morning!” she greets you with a warm smile. “Sit down—I made breakfast.”
Your sister is already at the table, scrolling through her phone, her face unreadable. You join them, grateful for the rare chance to enjoy a meal that doesn’t feel like part of your sister’s games.
As the meal winds down, your mother stands and grabs her suitcase. “I hate to eat and run, but duty calls,” she says with a sigh. Turning to you, she adds, “Take care of yourself. And if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call, alright?”
You nod, her words a small reassurance as she hugs you goodbye. She exchanges a few words with your sister before heading out, leaving the house quieter than it’s been all week.
[[College]]As you step into the classroom, Charlotte is already at her usual spot, clipboard in hand and sharp eyes scanning the room. When she spots you, she beckons you over with a subtle nod.
“Ah, there you are,” she says, her tone brisk but not unkind. “Today, we’re focusing on concepts. I want to see what you’ve been working on and how you’re developing your style.”
She gestures to a workspace nearby, where fabric swatches, magazines, and sketching tools are neatly arranged. “Take a seat. Let’s get started.”
<<if $designChoice == "modernClassy">>
Charlotte taps her pen against her clipboard, her gaze thoughtful. “Your work so far leans toward the modern and refined. Minimalism, clean lines, a sense of understated elegance. It’s a strong direction, but…” She pauses, tilting her head. “Are you pushing it far enough? I want to see how you take these concepts and make them undeniably yours.”
She hands you a swatch of metallic silver fabric. “Incorporate this. Show me something that turns heads without losing that sense of class.”
<<else>>
Charlotte’s lips quirk into a faint smile as she glances at your previous work. “You’re clearly drawn to boldness, yet you anchor it in tradition. Dramatic silhouettes, vibrant colors, a touch of the avant-garde—interesting. But tell me…” She leans in slightly, her voice dropping. “How do you make it more relevant? How do you bring the past into the future?”
She hands you a swatch of deep crimson velvet. “Incorporate this. Show me something that respects tradition but defies expectations.”
<</if>>
[[I want to challenge you]]Charlotte gives you 20 minutes to sketch a concept inspired by the fabric she provided, building on your established style. As you work, she observes silently, occasionally jotting down notes.
You remeber and try to refine what you have been working on
Dynamic Sketch Review:
<<If $designChoice == "modernClassy">>
Charlotte critiques your sketch for its clean execution, noting how well you incorporated the metallic fabric into the design. “It’s sleek, sophisticated—exactly what I expected. But I’d like to see a touch more daring next time. Surprise me.”
<<else>>
Charlotte studies your sketch, her lips curving into a rare smile. “You’ve captured the drama perfectly. The velvet adds richness without overwhelming the design. Keep building on this—it’s memorable.”
<</if>>
She nods, handing you the sketch back. “Good work. Let’s keep refining your vision. The next time we meet, I want to see a complete design concept—top to bottom, no shortcuts.”
[[A moment of silence]]As the mentor session winds down, a moment of silence hangs in the air. Charlotte leans against the table, jotting something on her clipboard, her usual sharp focus momentarily softened. You hesitate, the rare stillness giving you the courage to ask something personal.
Charlotte looks up, raising an eyebrow at your pause. “Something on your mind?” she asks, her voice less brusque than usual.
[[Ask About Her Journey in Fashion]]
[[Ask About What Drives Her]]You clear your throat, mustering the courage to speak. “I was wondering... how did you get into fashion design? I mean, you’re so confident and talented. Was it always like that?”
Charlotte blinks, her pen stopping mid-note. For a moment, you think she won’t answer, but then she sets the clipboard down.
“It wasn’t always this way,” she admits, her voice quieter. “When I started, I was... let’s just say, not much different from where you are now. Unsure, scared of failing, constantly doubting myself.”
Her eyes flicker with a far-off memory. “I had a mentor who was relentless. They pushed me harder than anyone else ever did. At the time, I thought they hated me. But looking back, I realize they saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself yet.”
Her lips curl into a faint smile. “I suppose that’s why I’m hard on you. I don’t waste my time on people who don’t have potential.”
Her words linger, and before you can process them, she tilts her head, a curious glint in her eyes.
[[Her Turn]]You hesitate but decide to ask what’s been on your mind. “You’re... always so composed and driven. What keeps you going? What inspires you to keep pushing forward?”
Charlotte leans back, crossing her arms as she considers the question. “That’s a bold one,” she remarks, though her tone is more contemplative than dismissive.
After a moment, she answers. “I suppose... it’s the fear of mediocrity. I’ve seen too many people settle for ‘good enough.’ They let their spark fade, and they never realize what they could’ve been.”
Her gaze sharpens slightly, but her voice stays calm. “I won’t be one of those people. Every collection, every piece—it’s a chance to say something, to leave a mark. That’s what drives me.”
Her expression softens unexpectedly. “And if I can help someone else find their voice along the way... well, that’s worth it, too.”
She leans forward slightly, her eyes locking on yours.
[[Her Turn]]Charlotte’s piercing gaze softens slightly, and a faint smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “Alright, let’s lighten this up,” she says, setting her clipboard aside. “If you could design an outfit for me, what would it be? And don’t hold back—I want to hear the real answer.”
You blink, caught off guard. “For you?”
She leans forward, her smile widening. “Yes. Don’t just stand there. You’ve spent enough time around me to have some ideas. What’s your vision? And don’t try to flatter me—I’ll know.”
[[Suggest Something Bold and Dramatic]]
[[Suggest Something Playful and Unexpected]]
[[Suggest Something Suggestive]]You hesitate, but her expectant look pushes you to speak. “Well… I’d go for something bold. Maybe a fitted crimson jumpsuit with sharp shoulder pads, a deep V-neck, and gold accents. It’d match your... commanding presence.”
Charlotte raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Commanding presence? Is that what you think of me?”
You fumble for words. “I mean, you have this... confidence. You’d pull it off perfectly.”
She laughs softly, a rare sound that catches you off guard. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Though, if I ever end up wearing something like that, you’ll be the one to explain it to everyone.”
[[Session comes to an end]]After a moment’s thought, you decide to push the boundaries. “Okay, hear me out. A pastel pink sundress with frills, paired with lace gloves and a sunhat. It’d be… an unexpected side of you.”
Charlotte freezes, her expression unreadable for a second before she bursts into laughter. “A pink sundress? On me? Are you trying to ruin my reputation?”
You shrug, trying to keep a straight face. “You said to be honest.”
Her laughter lingers as she shakes her head. “Well, I’ll give you points for bravery. But if you ever try to put me in frills, we’re going to have a problem.”
[[Session comes to an end]]You smirk, the rare lightness in Charlotte’s tone giving you just enough courage to test the waters. “Honestly? I’d design something that would leave everyone speechless. Maybe a sleek black evening gown—form-fitting, with a slit high enough to turn heads. Something... unforgettable.”
<<set $dresssuggest = "Suggestive">>
Charlotte raises an eyebrow, her clipboard lowering slightly. “Unforgettable, huh?”
You shrug, trying to play it off, though your heart pounds in your chest. “Well, you did say to be honest.”
Her lips curve into a faint smile, her sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. “Bold answer. But don’t forget, I’d have to approve the design before I’d wear it. You think you could meet my standards?”
The teasing edge in her voice throws you off balance, but you manage a quick retort. “I’d take it as a personal challenge.”
She chuckles softly, shaking her head. “Careful, or I might just hold you to that.”
[[Session comes to an end]]
<<If $dresssuggest == "Suggestive">>
After the playful banter, Charlotte straightens, the usual confident demeanor settling back into place. “You’ve got an interesting way of thinking,” she says, though her smile lingers. “I’ll admit—I wasn’t expecting that kind of answer. Maybe there’s more to you than I thought.”
She taps her clipboard lightly against the desk. “Alright, back to work. But remember, if you ever design that gown, it better live up to the hype. I don’t settle for anything less than perfection.”
The exchange leaves a faint blush on your cheeks, but it also brings a spark of confidence. For once, Charlotte’s walls seemed to lower, even if just a little.
<<else>
After a few moments of teasing, Charlotte leans back, her usual confidence returning. “You’re full of surprises,” she says, smirking. “I wasn’t expecting an answer like that. Maybe you do have an eye for style after all.”
She picks up her clipboard, her tone turning playful. “Now, don’t think this means you’re off the hook. If you ever actually design one of those for me, you’d better be ready to defend your choices.”
The playful exchange leaves you with a lighter heart, the rare glimpse of Charlotte’s humor making her feel more approachable.
<</if>>
Well let's call it a day, keep up the good work boy
[[Oh boy]]The house is silent when you get home, a rarity on a Friday night. A note left on the kitchen counter, scrawled in your sister’s familiar handwriting, confirms why:
"Out for the night. Don’t wait up."
You let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the unexpected solitude. It’s been a long week, and the quiet feels like a luxury. You toss your bag onto the couch and glance around at the stillness. Of course, the list of chores pinned to the fridge isn’t as comforting.
You move through the house methodically, ticking off each task. Dishes are washed, laundry folded, and the living room vacuumed. By the time you finish, the sense of accomplishment mingles with exhaustion.
[[Calling Your Best Friend]]
Collapsing onto the couch, you pull out your phone and dial your best friend. It only takes a couple of rings before they pick up.
“Hey!” their familiar voice greets you. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” you reply, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Just had to get through a mountain of chores. What about you?”
“Same old, same old. So, how’s the whole fashion design thing going? Still surviving?”
You laugh, leaning back against the cushions. “Barely. Actually, I had this big presentation this week, and… well, I had to model the dress.”
There’s a pause before your best friend bursts out laughing. “Wait, you—hold on—you had to model a dress? Again?”
You groan, but you can’t help laughing along. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. It’s becoming a theme, apparently.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a theme,” they say between chuckles. “Man, I wish I could’ve been there to see that. How’d it go?”
“Better than I expected, honestly. Charlotte even said I did well.”
Your best friend whistles. “High praise from the mentor herself. I’m impressed.”
You hesitate for a moment before deciding to come clean. “Actually… about Charlotte. I think I might have a crush on her.”
There’s a beat of silence, then a playful tone. “Oh, really? The intimidating, no-nonsense Charlotte? Didn’t see that coming. What brought this on?”
“I don’t know,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. “She’s just… I mean, she’s hard on me, but she’s also inspiring. And when she lets her guard down, she’s actually… kind of amazing.”
Your friend hums thoughtfully. “Well, sounds like you’ve got it bad. Just be careful, alright? I mean, she’s your mentor.”
“I know,” you reply quickly. “It’s not like I’m planning to do anything about it. I just… needed to say it out loud, I guess.”
“Well, anytime you need someone to laugh at your love life, I’m here for you,” they tease gently.
“Thanks, I think,” you reply, rolling your eyes but smiling.
[[You head to your room]]After ending the call with your best friend, you put your phone down and let the stillness of the house envelop you. For a moment, you close your eyes, replaying their laughter and teasing words. It was comforting, in a way—someone to share the absurdity of your week with, even if it meant being the punchline.
But as the silence deepens, your thoughts inevitably turn back to class.
Charlotte’s voice echoes in your mind, crisp and commanding as always: “I don’t waste my time on people who don’t have potential.” Her words had struck a chord. You didn’t know if she meant them as encouragement or just a statement of fact, but either way, they stuck with you.
You remember her approving nod after your presentation, the rare softness in her sharp eyes. It was a small moment, but it felt monumental—proof that you were starting to carve out a place in this world, even if it still felt foreign.
Your thoughts shift to the day’s mentor session. The questions she posed, her subtle smirk as you stumbled through your responses—it all added to the growing complexity of how you saw her. She wasn’t just a mentor anymore. She was someone you admired, maybe even...
You shake your head, the weight of that realization pressing down on your chest. A crush? Really? Wasn’t life complicated enough?
Still, as you settle into bed and close your eyes, it’s her voice you hear, her presence you feel lingering. The drive she inspired in you, the impossible standards she held you to—it all pushed you forward, even when you doubted yourself.
And in the quiet of your room, you whisper the thought you can’t quite shake: I’ll show her. I’ll prove I belong.
[[Saturday morning week 3]]You’re jolted awake by the sound of your sister banging on your door. “Get up! We’re going to the pool.” Her voice is sharp, commanding, leaving no room for protest.
You groggily sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The sun barely peeks over the horizon, and the house is still. The thought of going to the community pool with her sends a chill down your spine.
“Why?” you ask hesitantly, your voice cracking from sleep.
“Because I said so,” she snaps, pushing the door open to glare at you. She’s already dressed in her swimsuit, an expensive designer piece that only emphasizes her polished appearance. “Hurry up. We leave in fifteen minutes.”
You hesitate, dread settling in your chest. Her sudden kindness and enthusiasm feel all too familiar—a precursor to another one of her twisted games.
[[You get ready for the pool]]You arrive at the community pool, anxiety twisting in your stomach. The thought of being out in public, especially with your sister, has you on edge. You expect the worst—mockery, manipulation, or some cruel prank she’s cooked up.
But as you step into the pool area, you’re met with an unsettling calm.
Your sister, dressed impeccably in her designer swimsuit, tosses her towel onto a lounge chair and dives gracefully into the water. For a moment, it’s as if she’s forgotten you’re even there.
“Well? Are you going to swim or just stand there looking dumb?” she calls over her shoulder, splashing water lightly in your direction.
Hesitantly, you slide into the pool, expecting a trap. But the next hour passes without incident. She swims laps, lounges by the edge, and occasionally chats with other swimmers. You mimic her casual attitude, but the lack of torment only heightens your dread.
As you climb out of the pool, she hands you a towel, her expression unreadable. “Not bad,” she says casually. “You’re not as hopeless in the water as I thought.”
The compliment catches you off guard, leaving you more unnerved than if she’d insulted you.
“What’s going on?” you blurt out, unable to keep the suspicion from your voice.
She smirks, patting your shoulder. “Relax. Not everything is a big setup. Sometimes a swim is just a swim.”
But the glint in her eye says otherwise.
[[You take your change of clothes and head to the locker roomm]]You step into the locker room after your swim, dripping water and clutching your towel. The sound of running showers and muffled chatter echoes off the tiled walls. Tossing your swim trunks into the plastic bag you brought, you grab for your change of clothes—only to find… nothing.
Your shirt, shorts, and shoes are gone.
A sinking feeling settles in your stomach as you stare at the empty space where your clothes should be. You search frantically through your bag and the nearby bench, hoping they somehow slipped out. But the truth hits you hard and fast: your sister.
“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath.
Just as you’re considering your options, you spot something on the bench. A neatly folded pile of clothing and a note written in your sister’s elegant but mocking handwriting.
"Dear sibling,
You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you? I thought this outfit might suit you better. Enjoy strutting your stuff!
P.S. You can thank me later. Or not—it doesn’t matter. You’re welcome either way.
Love, your favorite sister 💋"
[[The outfit]]You unfold the clothing with trembling hands, dread pooling in your chest. It’s worse than you imagined:
A short, frilly, pastel-pink romper, complete with lace trim and bows.
A matching pair of flip-flops decorated with rhinestones.
A floppy sunhat and oversized sunglasses.
The outfit is loud, over-the-top, and designed to draw attention to you in the worst way possible.
What can you do?
[[Wear the Outfit Left by Your Sister]]
[[You are about to burst into tears, as you wait in your towel]]You stare at the outfit your sister left, feeling the weight of her cruel intentions settle in your chest. The pastel-pink romper sits mockingly on the bench, its frills and bows practically screaming humiliation. Next to it are the oversized sunglasses and the floppy sunhat, as if they could somehow mask the indignity of it all.
You glance toward the exit, heart pounding. What other choice do I have?
With a deep, reluctant sigh, you pick up the romper, its soft fabric feeling far too cheerful for your mood. “Let’s get this over with,” you mutter under your breath.
The locker room is eerily quiet as you pull on the romper. The frills tickle your skin, and the bows seem to tighten around your self-esteem with every movement. It fits snugly, hugging you in all the wrong ways and leaving you feeling exposed.
You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and wince. The outfit is every bit as ridiculous as you imagined, the pastel-pink fabric clashing harshly with your flushed cheeks. Grabbing the floppy sunhat and sunglasses, you put them on, hoping they’ll provide at least some anonymity. You have a final look in the mirror and you see even though the outfit is ridiculous you definately look a passable woman.
The sunhat’s brim flops over your eyes, and the rhinestone-covered sunglasses make you feel like a walking parody. This isn’t a disguise—it’s a spotlight, you think grimly.
[[Here goes nothing]]
Stepping out of the locker room feels like walking into an execution. You keep your head down, gripping the edges of the sunhat to shield your face as much as possible. The cool breeze brushes against your bare legs, a constant reminder of your predicament.
<img src="images/day19/sis.jpeg"/>
The pool area is mercifully quiet, but you still catch a few curious glances from the lifeguard and a group of kids playing by the water. One of the kids points, whispering something to their friend, and they both burst into giggles.
Just keep moving, you tell yourself, forcing your legs to carry you toward the exit.
[[The walk home]]The walk home is excruciating. Every step feels like a parade, the sunhat and sunglasses doing little to disguise the bright pink romper that bounces with each movement.
A jogger passes by, glancing at you briefly before doing a double-take. Their expression shifts from admiration to confusion to barely concealed amusement.
You pull the sunhat lower and adjust the sunglasses, trying to shrink into yourself.
<img src="images/day19/street.jpeg"/>
As you cantinue walking, an older woman walking her dog gives you a once-over, her eyebrows raising in silent judgment.
As you approach your house, a car slows down beside you, and the driver rolls down their window. You brace yourself for the inevitable comment.
“Hey!” a familiar voice calls out. You freeze.
It’s Samantha. She’s in the driver’s seat, her expression hovering between shock and stifled laughter. “Uh... nice outfit?”
Your face burns hotter than the afternoon sun. “Not a word,” you mutter, clutching the hat tighter.
Samantha raises her hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. But seriously, get in. I’m not letting you walk home like this.”
[[Ride with Samantha]]The ride home was awkwardly quiet, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat of Samantha’s car, the pink romper clinging uncomfortably to your skin. The fabric was soft but infuriatingly snug, with short, flouncy legs that made you hyperaware of every movement.
To make matters worse, the oversized sunglasses and wide-brimmed sunhat your sister had so thoughtfully included only added to the absurdity. You tried to slouch in your seat, hoping to disappear into the upholstery, but Samantha’s occasional sideways glances made it clear that wasn’t happening.
Finally, she broke the silence, her tone laced with curiosity and just a hint of amusement. “So… are we just not going to talk about the fact that you’re dressed like you’re ready for a beach photoshoot?”
You groaned, tugging at the hem of the romper. “Please don’t. It’s bad enough that I have to wear this. My sister thought it would be hilarious to leave this at the pool and disappear.”
Samantha raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a grin. “I’m guessing your clothes mysteriously vanished too?”
<<set $pooloutfit = "Sister">>
“Of course,” you muttered. “This was her idea of a joke. Leave me stranded with this... thing and no way out.”
Samantha shook her head, chuckling softly. “Your sister really takes sibling pranks to a whole new level. I mean, I have a brother, and the worst he’s done is hide my car keys. This? This is... next level.”
You turned to look at her, trying to gauge if she was laughing at you or with you. To your surprise, her expression softened.
“Hey,” she said, glancing at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “For what it’s worth, you’re handling this way better than most people would. I mean, if it were me, I’d probably be crying in the pool bathroom.”
You laughed despite yourself. “Don’t tempt me. That was plan B.”
Samantha grinned, her voice turning playful. “You know, the hat’s kind of working for you. Very chic. Though maybe next time, you should pair it with something less... pink.”
You rolled your eyes, tugging the sunglasses off your face. “I don’t think there’s going to be a next time. At least, I hope not.”
Samantha’s grin softened into something more genuine. “In all seriousness, though, you’re stronger than you think. Most people would’ve melted down by now, but you’re hanging in there. That’s impressive.”
Her words caught you off guard, the sincerity in her tone making your chest tighten slightly. “Thanks, I guess.”
“No ‘guess’ about it,” she replied, her grin returning. “And hey, if your sister keeps pulling stunts like this, you know where to find me. I’ll be your getaway driver anytime.”
As she pulled up in front of your house, she glanced at you one last time. “Seriously, though—ditch the hat before you go inside. It’s doing you no favors.”
You laughed, stepping out of the car. “Thanks for the ride. And for not laughing... too much.”
“Anytime,” she said, waving as you shut the door. “Good luck with your sister. You’re going to need it.”
You watched her drive away, the ridiculous outfit still weighing on you, but the warmth of Samantha’s support made it a little easier to bear.
[[You enter your house ashamed and angered]]As you stand in the locker room, staring at the ridiculous outfit your sister left behind, the sound of approaching footsteps breaks your frantic thoughts.
“Hey! What are you doing here?”
You spin around to see Samantha walking in, already in her swimsuit and carrying a duffel bag. She looks genuinely surprised to see you.
“Samantha?” you blurt out, your towel clutched tightly around you.
“Yeah, me,” she replies, giving you a curious look. “Wait... why are you still in your towel? Didn’t you bring clothes?”
You hesitate, unsure how to explain the situation. Finally, you sigh and mutter, “My sister happened. She took my clothes and left me... this.”
You motion toward the frilly pastel-pink outfit lying on the bench, complete with bows and rhinestone flip-flops.
Samantha stares at the outfit for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh, wow. She really has it out for you, huh?”
“Yeah, hilarious,” you mutter, your cheeks burning. “I’m not wearing that.”
Her laughter softens, and she shakes her head. “Okay, okay. Look, you’re lucky I came prepared. I always keep a spare set of clothes in my bag, just in case.”
She unzips her duffel bag and pulls out a simple but perfectly acceptable outfit: a plain black t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. “Not exactly high fashion, but it’s way better than... that.”
You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Samantha. You’re a lifesaver.”
<img src="images/day19/Sam.jpeg"/>
After changing into Samantha’s spare clothes, you step out of the locker room feeling far less humiliated than you expected. The t-shirt is a bit snug, but it’s leagues better than the alternative.
Samantha is waiting by the entrance, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “See? Crisis averted. Now, how about I drop you home? I’m assuming you don’t want to walk around town in borrowed clothes.”
You nod gratefully. “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”
[[Ride home]]The drive home is surprisingly calm, though Samantha can’t resist teasing you a little.
“So... you and your sister. Do you two always have this kind of... dynamic?” she asks, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.
“Let’s just say Saturdays are becoming my least favorite day of the week,” you reply with a weak laugh.
“Well, maybe next time, don’t let her drag you into her schemes. Or, you know, call me. I could’ve saved you a lot of trouble.”
Her lighthearted tone helps ease some of the tension.
<<set $pooloutfit = "Sam">>
[[You enter your house ashamed and angered]]When Samantha drops you off, she waves casually. “Try not to let her get to you, okay?”
You manage a small smile as you watch her drive away, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude.
<<if $pooloutfit == "Sam">>
You push open the front door, Samantha’s borrowed clothes sticking to your skin from the long walk in the sun. Relief washes over you at the thought of being back in the privacy of your home, but that relief is short-lived when you hear the sound of your sister’s humming drifting from the kitchen.
Before you can make it to your room, she steps out into the hallway, holding a mug of coffee. Her eyes sweep over you, taking in the plain black t-shirt and athletic shorts. Her smirk falters for a moment, her surprise clear.
“Well, well,” she says slowly, leaning against the doorway. “That’s not what I left for you.” Her tone sharpens as she adds, “Did someone help you?”
You meet her gaze, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “Yeah. Samantha did. She’s not a psycho like you.”
Her smirk returns, sharper and colder. “Oh, so your little friend swooped in to save you? How sweet. I guess I’ll have to thank her for ruining my fun.” She takes a long sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving yours. “But don’t think this means you’re off the hook. You think you’ve won just because you avoided a little embarrassment?”
She steps closer, her voice lowering to a near-whisper. “You should know by now—you don’t get to escape me that easily. Enjoy your little moment of victory. It won’t last.”
You clench your fists at your sides, but there’s nothing you can say. Her confidence is unnerving, her words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.
<<else>>
You slam the front door shut behind you, ripping off the floppy sunhat and tossing it onto the nearest chair. The romper clings awkwardly, the bows and frills brushing against your skin like a physical reminder of your humiliation. The rhinestone flip-flops click against the hardwood floor as you hurry toward your room, hoping to avoid her.
“Ah, there you are!”
Her voice stops you dead in your tracks. You turn slowly to see her lounging on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, her phone in hand. The satisfied smirk on her face is all you need to know—she’s already taken pictures of you in this outfit.
“Well, don’t you look adorable,” she coos, holding up her phone to snap another picture. The click of the camera feels like a slap in the face. “Come here. Let’s get a proper look at my little fashionista.”
You don’t move, your jaw tightening as you glare at her. “What do you want?”
She laughs, the sound cold and cutting. “What do I want? Oh, sweetheart, I already got what I wanted. You did exactly what I planned—paraded yourself through town in that cute little outfit. I’m sure it was so much fun for you.”
She leans forward, her smirk widening. “But just in case you were thinking of fighting back next time...” She flips her phone around, showing you the pictures she’s taken.
Your stomach churns as you see the images—full-body shots of you in the frilly romper, the sunhat tilted over your face, the rhinestone flip-flops shining under the sun. She’s captured every humiliating detail.
“See? Perfect leverage,” she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now, be a good little sibling and run along. I’ve got plenty more in store for you today.”
<</if>>
[[You head to your room appalled]]You push open the door to your room, desperate for a moment of solitude after the humiliating events of the morning. But any sense of relief vanishes as your eyes land on the outfit hanging prominently on your closet door.
It’s impossible to ignore: a 1950s-style housewife dress, complete with puffed sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a flared skirt adorned with polka dots. A lacy white apron hangs alongside it, neatly pressed and tied with an oversized bow. On the floor beneath it sits a pair of shiny, black low-heeled shoes and a string of faux pearls draped over the hanger.
<img src="images/day19/hw.jpg"/>
Your heart sinks. The pastel colors and retro style scream mockery, and you can already imagine your sister’s cruel intentions.
Moments Later
Before you can fully process the sight, the door swings open, and your sister steps in, her phone in one hand and an infuriatingly smug grin on her face.
“Ah, you’ve seen it,” she says, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I was worried you might get back too soon, but I’m glad everything’s ready.”
You glare at her, gesturing toward the outfit. “What is this? Another one of your jokes?”
She raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh, no joke. It’s your new uniform. You see, my friends and I work so hard all week, and we realized we’re missing something in our lives: a proper housewife to take care of us.”
Your stomach churns at her words. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am,” she says, stepping closer to inspect the dress. “This is just perfect for you. It’s practical, stylish, and so… you.” She smirks, holding up the pearls. “And the accessories really complete the look. You’ll be the perfect little homemaker.”
[[Homemaker?]]The thought alone makes your cheeks burn. The image of yourself wearing the dress, serving your sister and her friends, makes you feel utterly ridiculous.
“Look,” she continues, leaning casually against your desk, “my friends will be here in about an hour. I expect the place to be spotless, dinner to be ready, and you—” She gestures toward the dress. “—to be dressed appropriately. After all, a housewife should look the part, shouldn’t she?”
You open your mouth to protest, but she cuts you off. “Oh, and just so you don’t get any ideas about skipping out…” She waves her phone in front of you, showing a folder labeled Saturday Memories. You don’t need to look closer to know what’s inside—photos and videos of every humiliating moment she’s captured so far.
“You wouldn’t want these to accidentally end up online, would you?” she adds, her smirk widening.
The Dilemma
She leaves the room, closing the door behind her with a satisfied click. You turn back to the dress, the polka dots seeming to mock you under the dim light.
The apron’s bow is perfectly tied, the shoes gleam as if freshly polished, and the pearls gleam with a fake elegance that only adds to your humiliation.
Do I really have to do this? you think, your hands trembling as you reach out to touch the fabric. The smooth material feels foreign, almost like it belongs to someone else’s life—someone far removed from your own.
Your reflection in the mirror looms behind the dress, a stark reminder of the choice you face.
[[Do what she wants]]
[[Own it]]
You sigh, accepting the inevitable. Pulling the dress from the hanger, you slip it on with trembling hands. The fabric feels alien against your skin, its snug fit and flared skirt exaggerating every movement.
Tying the apron around your waist, you glance in the mirror and wince. The outfit looks as ridiculous as you expected, the polka dots and frills emphasizing the absurdity of the situation. You leave your hair as it is and forgo the pearls, keeping the look as plain as possible.
<img src="images/day19/housewifesimple.webp"/>
“This is what she wanted,” you think bitterly, staring at your reflection. “Let’s just get through this.”
When your sister sees you, she smirks, clearly pleased. “Well, at least you followed directions. You look... exactly as pathetic as I imagined.”
Her laughter stings, but you bite your tongue, knowing you have no leverage to fight back.
[[Her friends arrive moments later ]]A spark of defiance ignites within you. If she wants me to look like a housewife, I’ll make sure I look like the best damn housewife she’s ever seen.
You pull the dress on, but this time, you don’t stop there. You tie the apron in a perfect bow, slip on the polished shoes, and clasp the string of pearls around your neck.
Digging through your drawers, you find a brush and a few hairpins. You pull your hair into a sleek retro updo, complete with a few curled strands framing your face. With quick, steady hands, you apply light makeup: soft blush, winged eyeliner, and a bold red lip that matches the polka dots on the dress.
<img src="images/day19/housewifestyle.webp"/>
When you’re done, you step back and look in the mirror. The transformation is stunning—you look like you stepped straight out of a 1950s magazine ad. The ridiculousness of the situation doesn’t fade, but for the first time, you feel a strange sense of control.
When your sister sees you, her smirk falters. “Well, well,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm, but her eyes betray a flicker of surprise. “You actually tried. I wasn’t expecting... this.”
You meet her gaze with quiet confidence. “You wanted a housewife. Here I am.”
[[Her friends arrive moments later]]Dressed in the housewife outfit you stand awkwardly in the living room as the sound of laughter and heels clicking against the hardwood floor grows louder. The front door swings open, and your sister sweeps in, followed by her three friends.
“Ladies,” she announces with a dramatic flourish, “meet our hostess for the evening.”
Penny, the tallest of the group, smirks as she eyes you up and down. “Well, isn’t this adorable?” she drawls, her tone dripping with mockery.
Bernadette, petite with glasses, covers her mouth as she giggles. “It’s like something out of an old sitcom. I can’t decide if it’s cute or tragic.”
Amy, with her sharp eyes and quick tongue, leans against the doorway, chuckling. “Oh, it’s definitely tragic. But in the most entertaining way.”
Your sister claps her hands together. “Now, now, ladies. Let’s not overwhelm her—or him—just yet. There’s plenty of time for fun.”
[[The evening begins]]You stand in the kitchen, hands trembling slightly as you prepare the snacks for the evening. Penny lounges at the counter, sipping wine, her eyes never leaving you. Suddenly, a small splatter of red wine hits the counter, and she raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to notice.
<img src="images/day19/hwkitchen.webp"/>
“Ooops,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Be a dear and clean that up, would you?”
The others snicker, watching you carefully as you grab a towel, bending down to wipe up the mess. Each movement feels slow and deliberate, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Penny smirks at you, the glass of wine still held in her hand as she waits for you to finish. "Nice to see you working hard. Just don’t spill the wine next time," she adds, barely masking her amusement.
[[Refilling Drinks]]The sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floors fills the air as your sister’s friends file into the house, their laughter echoing loudly. You stand stiffly in the living room, the simple housewife outfit clinging awkwardly to you—a plain apron over a modestly cut dress.
Your sister strides in, her face lighting up with a theatrical grin. “Ladies, meet our hostess for the evening!”
The trio pauses to take you in.
Penny, the tallest of the group, tilts her head, her lips curling into a smirk. “Well, this won’t do at all. So plain. So… uninspired.”
Bernadette adjusts her glasses, giggling as she steps closer. “Oh, definitely. We need to fix this.”
Amy claps her hands together, her sharp eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let’s style her—sorry, him—properly. What kind of housewife doesn’t know how to accessorize?”
Your sister’s grin widens. “I think that’s an excellent idea. After all, presentation is everything.”
[[Makeover]]Before you can protest, they surround you, pulling you toward the nearest chair like a pack of lions descending on prey.
Amy takes charge of your hair, producing a brush and bobby pins from her bag. “Hold still,” she orders as she twists your hair into a neat, feminine updo. Bernadette dabs blush onto your cheeks, then adds lipstick with exaggerated strokes. “A little color never hurt anyone,” she says, grinning.
Penny rummages through her purse, pulling out a pearl necklace and fastening it around your neck. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” she says, stepping back to admire her work. They add earrings, a delicate scarf tied at your neck, and a frilly headband to complete the look.
Amy rolls up the sleeves of your dress, tsking at its simplicity. “This is so boring. Let’s add a belt to give it some shape.”
Bernadette pins a fake flower to the apron’s pocket, giggling at the transformation.
The Grand Reveal
When they’re done, you barely recognize yourself in the mirror they hold up. The styled housewife look is over-the-top, a parody of domestic elegance. Your cheeks flush as the trio steps back, laughing and snapping pictures with their phones.
“Now that’s a proper housewife,” Amy says, her tone dripping with mockery.
Penny grins wickedly. “And the best part? You’re ready to host. Let’s get this night started.”
[[The evening begins]]Bernadette’s glass is nearly empty, and she lazily holds it out toward you, a sly grin spreading across her face.
“Top me off, darling. And don’t skimp on the pour,” she commands, her voice teasing but with a bite.
You hesitate for a moment, trying to stay steady, but the thought of how low you’ve sunk makes it harder to breathe. You carefully fill her glass, trying not to make a mess, but she watches you intently, her eyes flicking to the bottle then back to you.
“A little more, please,” she says, a glint of amusement in her voice as you try to give her exactly what she wants. “Don’t be shy, I know you’re used to serving,” she adds, leaning back and enjoying every second of your discomfort.
[[Modeling Their Accessories]]Amy stands nearby, holding an oversized shawl in her hands, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. Without waiting for your response, she drapes the bulky fabric over your shoulders, pulling it tighter than necessary.
“Let’s see how you work with layers,” she says, her tone mocking but with a playful edge. She steps back and looks you over, snapping a few photos with her phone, catching you in unflattering positions.
“You look fantastic, really. Like a fashion disaster,” she laughs, gesturing for you to turn around. “Don’t forget to pose, darling. These photos are for my collection.”
[[Dinner Prep]]The kitchen is abuzz with activity, but it’s all eyes on you. Your sister stands by the counter, hands on her hips, a look of disdain on her face as you try to focus on the meal prep.
“Make sure you get everything right,” she demands. “We don’t want another disaster like last time.”
As you begin chopping vegetables, Penny and Bernadette sit at the table, their voices dripping with critique.
"Did you season the chicken?" Bernadette asks, her tone heavy with judgment.
“Don’t forget the garnish,” Penny adds. “Presentation is everything, darling."
You glance nervously at your sister, who is supervising the process with a bored expression, arms crossed. Each dish is met with critique, no matter how carefully you try to prepare it. You can’t win—they’re watching every move, and it feels like the weight of their eyes is pressing down on you. The cooking doesn’t feel like cooking—it feels like an ordeal you have to get through.
[[Post Dinner]]After dinner, you’re left with no respite. Penny stands up from the table with an exaggerated stretch and a grin that sends a shiver down your spine.
“Alright, time to show us what you’ve got,” she says, her tone playful but with an edge. “Walk across the room for us, like you’re on the runway. You know, show us that grace and poise.”
You swallow hard, trying to force your legs to move. Each step feels heavier than the last, as you know they’re all watching, judging, laughing at your every motion. Penny’s gaze sharpens as you try to keep your balance, your posture rigid. She claps her hands slowly, mocking your efforts.
“Not bad… but you could use a little more… confidence,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain as you try to steady your nerves.
[[Photoshoot]]Amy’s camera flashes repeatedly as she directs you from one ridiculous pose to the next. “Tilt your head like this,” she says, snapping another picture. “No, no, that’s not it, do it like this!”
You find yourself standing in awkward poses, holding positions that make you feel more and more exposed with every snap of the camera. Amy’s laughing now, enjoying every moment.
"These are going to be hilarious. You’re so much fun to photograph," she teases, moving closer to adjust your stance, making sure she catches every uncomfortable angle. The others join in with their own remarks, adding to the constant pressure to perform in the way they want.
[[Speech]]After an endless night of mockery and humiliation, Bernadette hands you a wooden spoon, her lips curling into a smug smile.
"Alright, darling," she says, “It’s time for your moment. You’ve worked so hard tonight, so I think you deserve an award. Go ahead and give your ‘Housewife of the Year’ acceptance speech.”
<img src="images/day19/housewife3.webp"/>
The spoon feels heavy in your hand, as though it’s mocking you even further. You glance at your sister, who’s smirking and enjoying every second of your torment. With all eyes on you, you mumble a response, trying to suppress the anger bubbling inside.
“Uh, thank you for this… opportunity,” you stutter. “I couldn’t have done it without the support… of my family,” you add, your words thick with sarcasm.
The women burst into laughter, and Bernadette leans in close, whispering, “That’s a good one. Keep practicing, and you might be ready for the next big role.” The air feels thick with humiliation, but you know you have no choice but to play along.
[[End??]]By the time the night ends, you’re exhausted and mortified. The women gather their things, their laughter still ringing in your ears.
Your sister pats your shoulder mockingly. “You’ve outdone yourself tonight. I think my friends are going to be talking about this for weeks.”
Penny smirks as she walks to the door. “Oh, definitely. You’ve set the bar impossibly high.”
Bernadette waves cheerfully. “Thanks for the laughs, darling. Same time next week?”
Amy grins. “Don’t forget—practice makes perfect!”
As the door closes behind them, you’re left standing in the silent living room, your ridiculous outfit a painful reminder of the night’s events.
[[Back to the room]]The house was finally silent. The laughter and mocking voices of your sister and her friends had faded into the night, leaving only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant ticking of a clock. You stood in the living room for a moment, still dressed in the ridiculous 1950s housewife outfit, the frills and pearls now feeling heavier than ever.
Your reflection caught your eye in the hallway mirror. For a moment, you just stared. Did you enjoy it? Being dressed up, styled, and paraded in front of your sister and her friends? The answer felt complicated. There was a strange thrill buried beneath the humiliation—a sense of standing out, of being noticed. But the mockery, the taunts, the endless tasks—they crushed whatever flicker of confidence you might have had.
You shook your head, trying to push the thought aside. What would Samantha think of me if she saw this? The image of her teasing smile flashed in your mind, but so did her warmth—the way she had driven you home from the pool without judgment, offering support even in the most absurd situations.
You let out a long sigh. How long can this go on? The weight of your sister’s control pressed on your chest. Every week, it seemed to escalate—more tasks, more outfits, more humiliation. You felt like a character in a play you couldn’t escape, your role written by someone else.
As you peeled off the apron and untied the headband, you wondered if there was a way out. Could you stand up to her? Could you find a way to take back control? Or was this your life now—serving as the subject of her twisted sense of humor, week after week?
You turned off the lights and trudged up to your room, the questions swirling in your mind as you climbed into bed. Sleep came slowly, but when it did, your dreams were filled with the laughter of her friends and the ghost of Samantha’s reassuring smile.
[[Sunday Morning]]
You’re halfway out the door, shoes laced and ready for the brief escape you’ve been looking forward to all week. The promise of some fresh air, maybe even meeting a friend, was enough to get you moving despite the exhaustion of Saturday’s humiliation.
But then her voice stops you cold.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
You turn to see your sister standing in the hallway, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. She’s dressed casually, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. Her expression is calm—too calm, and that’s what unnerves you the most.
“I was just heading out,” you mumble, avoiding her gaze.
“No, you’re not,” she says firmly, stepping into your path. “We need to talk.”
You hesitate, gripping the door handle tighter. “Can it wait? I—”
“Now,” she interrupts, her voice carrying an edge that leaves no room for argument. She gestures toward the living room. “Sit. This isn’t optional.”
With a heavy sigh, you let go of the door and follow her. The living room feels suffocating as she settles into the armchair, motioning for you to take a seat on the couch.
“Alright,” you say, crossing your arms. “What’s this about?”
She takes a slow sip of her coffee, studying you like a chess piece she’s about to move. The silence stretches long enough to make your skin crawl. Finally, she sets the mug down on the side table and leans forward.
“This isn’t just a chat,” she says, her voice low but firm. “It’s about you, and where we go from here.”
Her words send a chill down your spine. Whatever this is, it’s not going to be a casual conversation.
[[Where we go from here?]]You sit stiffly on the couch, watching your sister sip her coffee with an unsettling calmness. Her eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place—a mix of amusement and calculation.
She sets the mug down on the table and leans forward, clasping her hands together. “I’ve been thinking,” she begins, her tone casual, like this is any other conversation.
You narrow your eyes. “That’s never good.”
She smirks but doesn’t acknowledge your comment. “You’ve been doing... surprisingly well.”
“Excuse me?”
“With everything,” she continues, waving her hand dismissively. “The chores, the little tasks I give you. Even my attempts to, let’s say, challenge you—somehow, you’re managing to handle it all. Sometimes you do it bravely, sometimes after a bit of resistance, but you always pull through.”
Her smirk widens as she sees the confusion written all over your face.
“Here’s the thing,” she says, her voice dropping into something more serious. “It’s all becoming a bit... stale.”
Your stomach twists. “What do you mean, stale?”
<img src="images/day20/worriedd.jpg"/>
“I mean, this little game we’ve been playing is getting boring. Predictable.” She leans back in her chair, crossing her legs. “And I hate boring.”
You stare at her, disbelief bubbling into anger. “So what? You’re asking me to be worse at dealing with your crap?”
“No,” she says smoothly. “I’m asking you to help me come up with ways to up my game.”
You blink, convinced you’ve misheard her. “You’re asking me to come up with ideas to make my life hell?”
She grins, her eyes sparkling with twisted delight. “Exactly. Who knows you better than you? I’m sure you can think of something truly horrifying.”
Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you. She’s serious.
She leans forward again, her tone light but her gaze sharp. “Tell you what. Go meet your little friend at the mall. Have your fun. Think it over. And when you get back, let me know what you’ve come up with.”
You shake your head, trying to comprehend the insanity of the situation. “And what if I don’t?”
She shrugs, but her smile turns cold. “Then I’ll have to come up with something myself. And trust me, I’m not sure you’ll be able to handle it.”
The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air as she stands and picks up her mug, heading back toward the kitchen. “You’ve got until tonight,” she calls over her shoulder. “Make it good.”
You sit frozen on the couch, your mind racing. The idea of actively participating in her torment feels like crossing a line you didn’t even know existed. But the alternative—leaving her to come up with something truly diabolical—might be even worse.
[[To the mall, yay?]]The bus ride to the mall feels surreal. Your sister’s twisted request echoes in your mind, leaving you nauseous. The idea of actively contributing to her torment feels impossible to comprehend, yet the weight of her threat hangs over you like a storm cloud.
When you arrive at the food court, your friend is already there, sipping a soda and scrolling on their phone. They look up and wave when they see you, but their smile quickly fades as they notice your expression.
“Hey,” they say, setting their drink down. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You sit down heavily, running a hand through your hair. “It’s my sister. She... she’s lost it.”
Your friend frowns, leaning forward. “What now?”
“She—” You pause, struggling to find the words. “She wants me to come up with ways to make my own life miserable. Like, she actually asked me for ideas to help her torment me.”
Your friend stares at you, slack-jawed. “Wait, she asked you to—”
“Yes!” you interrupt, your voice rising. “And if I don’t, she’ll come up with something herself, and I’m afraid of what that’ll be.”
They lean back in their chair, letting out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s... next-level messed up.”
For a moment, they’re quiet, tapping their fingers on the table as they think. Finally, they lean forward again, their tone careful.
“Okay, first off, this is insane. But if she’s serious—and it sounds like she is—you’ve got to play this smart. Give her something that seems bad, but isn’t as bad as what she might come up with.”
You stare at them, your mouth dry. “Like what?”
A Fashion Bootcamp
“What if you suggest a ‘fashion bootcamp’ thing? She gets to dress you up and critique your ‘style’ for a week. It’ll be humiliating, sure, but it’s just clothes. You’ve been through worse, right?”
They pause, adding, “And who knows? Maybe you can make it work and turn it into something less awful.”
Or a Personal Butler
“How about this: you agree to be her personal butler for a day. She gets to boss you around, make you serve drinks or whatever. It’s degrading, but it’s not permanent, and it’ll make her feel like she’s in control.”
They shrug. “It might keep her from coming up with something way worse.”
Your Reaction
You shake your head, your stomach churning. “I don’t know. Even those sound awful.”
“They are,” your friend says, their tone firm. “But they’re less awful than whatever she’s got cooking in that messed-up brain of hers. You’ve got to give her something, or she’s just going to keep pushing.”
They lean forward, their gaze steady. “Look, I know it sucks. But you’ve been handling her crap for years. You can handle this too. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find a way to turn it back on her somehow.”
Their confidence is reassuring, but [[the knot in your stomach doesn’t loosen.]] As you sit there, staring at the food court crowd, you can’t help but wonder how much further this twisted game can go.
Your friend’s words barely register as they try to come up with ideas, their voice a distant hum amidst the storm raging in your head. You stare down at your hands, the table blurring in front of you. Every suggestion feels like another nail in the coffin your sister is so gleefully building.
“I can’t do this,” you mutter, cutting them off mid-sentence.
They blink, concern etched across their face. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure something out—”
“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “I just... I can’t. I can’t think, I can’t... I just—”
You stand abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Your friend reaches out as if to stop you, but you step back. “I have to go.”
“Wait, hang on—”
“I’ll... I’ll call you later,” you mumble, already turning away.
The walk back is a blur. The crowded streets and the noise of the city fade into the background as your thoughts spiral. Your sister’s words replay in your mind like a broken record: “Give me ideas, or I’ll come up with something you can’t handle.”
The weight of the situation presses down on you, making it hard to breathe. The thought of sitting across from her, presenting ideas to make your life worse, feels like an impossible task. Yet the alternative—leaving her unchecked—feels even more terrifying.
[[Hell fuckin Hell]]
You reach the front door, your hand trembling as you push it open. The house is quiet, too quiet.
Your sister’s voice rings out from the living room, startling you. “Back already?”
You step into the doorway to find her lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She doesn’t look up, but the smirk tugging at her lips tells you she’s been waiting for this moment.
“Let me guess,” she says, her tone dripping with mockery. “You couldn’t handle the pressure and ran home with your tail between your legs.”
You clench your fists at your sides, trying to steady your breathing.
She finally looks up, her eyes gleaming with that familiar, twisted amusement. “So? Did you come up with anything? Or do I get to have all the fun?”
Her words hang in the air, suffocating and inescapable.
[[Breaking Point]]Her smirk is the last straw. The weight of the morning, the impossible request, the walk home—it all comes crashing down.
Your chest tightens as the floodgates open.
“You’re insane!” you shout, your voice cracking. “Do you even hear yourself? You want me to help you make my life miserable? What kind of sick, twisted person even thinks like that?”
Your words come tumbling out, faster and louder with every second. “You’ve been doing this for years! Humiliating me, controlling me, treating me like some... some plaything! And now you expect me to just—what? Hand you the tools to do it even better?”
Your fists clench as you take a step closer, your whole body trembling with rage. “I’m done! I’m not playing your stupid games anymore! Do whatever you want—I don’t care! I’m not giving you anything!”
The room falls silent, save for the sound of your ragged breathing. Your sister sits there, completely still, her eyes locked on you. For a moment, you think you might have gotten through to her.
And then she laughs.
It starts as a small chuckle, but quickly grows into a full-blown laugh, rich and mocking. She sets her phone down, clapping her hands slowly as if applauding a performance.
“Wow,” she says, shaking her head. “That was... something. Really, I have to hand it to you. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Her words sting, each one a fresh jab to your already raw emotions. She stands, walking toward you with an almost casual air, her smirk never wavering.
“Are you done?” she asks, tilting her head. “Because that little tantrum of yours didn’t change anything.”
Your jaw tightens, but you don’t trust yourself to speak.
She leans in, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “You can scream and shout all you want, but at the end of the day, we both know how this works. You can’t win. And the more you fight me, the worse it’ll be.”
She straightens, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeve. “So, I’ll ask you one last time: Do you have any ideas, or do I get to surprise you?”
Her words hit like a hammer, the last vestiges of your anger crumbling into despair. You can feel the tears threatening to spill, but you blink them back, refusing to give her the satisfaction.
Part of you wants to walk away, to ignore her completely and hope she loses interest. But another part knows better. She won’t stop. She never stops.
[[You’re trapped, and the walls are closing in.]]
You can’t take it anymore. Her laughter, her mocking words, the way she looks at you like you’re nothing more than a toy for her amusement—it’s suffocating. Without thinking, you turn on your heel and head for the door.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she says sharply. Before you can react, her hand clamps onto your arm with a grip like iron. She spins you back around and pushes you into the couch.
“Sit down,” she snaps, her voice colder now, the mocking tone replaced by a harsh edge.
Your mind races, panic bubbling under your skin as you watch her reach into your pocket and pull out your wallet.
“What are you doing?” you manage, your voice shaky.
“Something you clearly don’t know how to do,” she says flatly, opening the wallet and flipping through it. “Taking responsibility.”
Her fingers close around the cash inside, and she pulls it all out—bills and coins alike. You lurch forward, but she raises a hand, her icy glare freezing you in place.
“Let’s see,” she says, holding up the money and pretending to count it. “Twenty, thirty, forty... Wow, you’ve been saving up. That’s cute.”
“Give it back,” you hiss, your fists clenching.
She raises an eyebrow, her smirk returning. “Oh, no. You’ve been slacking lately. All those chores? Unpaid. And don’t even get me started on that little hissy fit earlier.”
Your stomach churns as she slips the money into her pocket. “Consider this back pay for the last two weeks,” she says, her tone dripping with mock seriousness. “You’ve been behind on your rent.”
“Rent?” you repeat, your voice rising. “What rent? This isn’t your house!”
She leans down, her face inches from yours, and grins. “It’s my rules. And my rules say you owe me.”
You watch her straighten and walk back to her seat, your wallet still clutched in her hand. She tosses it onto the coffee table like it’s trash, empty and useless now.
“Look at that,” she says, settling back into the armchair. “Now we’re even. Unless you want to keep talking, in which case I’m sure I can think of a few more fines to add to your tab.”
Your hands shake as you stare at the table, rage and despair boiling together in your chest. You want to yell, to fight, to do something—but you’re trapped, just like always.
[[Absolute Defeat]]You slump back into the couch, your head pounding. The weight of her words, the sting of losing your money, and the utter hopelessness of the situation press down on you like a crushing wave.
<img src="images/day20/worried.jpg"/>
She sits across from you, leaning forward with that same twisted smile, her fingers drumming lightly on the arm of the chair. “So,” she says, her voice almost sing-song, “what ideas do you have now?”
You stare at the empty wallet on the table, your hands shaking in your lap.
“I... I don’t have anything,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyebrows rise, and she tilts her head mockingly. “What was that?”
“I have nothing,” you say louder, the words cutting like glass as they leave your mouth. “No ideas, no money, no... no hope.”
The admission tastes bitter, but it’s the truth.
For a moment, she seems taken aback, the smirk faltering slightly as she studies you. Then, slowly, the smile returns, sharper and colder than before.
“Well,” she says, sitting back in her chair, “that’s dramatic, even for you.” She crosses her legs and taps her chin thoughtfully. “No ideas, no money, no hope. Sounds like a personal problem.”
You glare at her, but the fire behind your eyes is dulled by exhaustion.
She sighs theatrically. “Alright, fine. Since you’re clearly incapable of being creative, I’ll just have to step in.” Her voice hardens, losing its mocking tone. “But don’t think for a second this means you’re off the hook. You’re still going to play along, whether you like it or not.”
Her words sink into you like daggers. You feel hollow, like a puppet whose strings are being pulled tighter with every passing moment.
“I hate you,” you mutter, barely audible.
Her laughter is cold, cutting through the silence. “Oh, sweetheart, hate me all you want. It’s not going to change anything.” She stands, brushing off imaginary dust from her clothes. “Now, be a good little sibling and stay put. I’ve got some planning to do.”
She heads for the door, her voice echoing back to you. “You’ll know soon enough what I come up with. And trust me—you’re going to love it.”
[[Silent Evening]]You retreat to your room, you can't believe what is happening. She is bored? All this was not enough? what more is there? The date, the maid, the sleepover, the pool incident, the daily chores, the house wife set-up, the money, what else is there with you.
For the first time you find yourself in so much despair you think this might be the end of the road for you. You got a job, you did everything she asked for despite that, you are even doing good at your classes.
You find it hard to bring yourself back from darkness, you think about your friend, Samantha, Charlotte, & most importantly your mother. You have to keep going for them.
[[Sleep doesn't come easily]]Monday, Week 4, Day 22
You wake up with a start, the faint echoes of your sister’s mocking laughter still lingering in the back of your mind. For a moment, you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your chest tight with dread. After yesterday’s ultimatum, you expected to wake up to another round of humiliation, another task designed to chip away at your dignity.
But the house is quiet. Too quiet.
Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you glance at the clock. It’s already later than usual, and there’s no sign of her. No pounding on your door, no sarcastic commands floating through the air. Slowly, you get up and make your way to the kitchen, bracing for whatever trap she might have left behind.
Instead, you find a note on the counter:
"Left early. Busy day at work. Don’t mess up the house."
The relief that washes over you is almost dizzying. For the first time in what feels like weeks, you’re not starting the day with her shadow looming over you.
You take your time getting ready, letting the stillness of the house calm your nerves. Your reflection in the mirror looks worn, but there’s a flicker of determination in your eyes. Work and college may come with their own challenges, but at least they’re distractions from the constant games at home.
As you step out the door and into the crisp morning air, you feel a tentative sense of hope. Today, at least for now, is yours.
[[College looks like an escape]]The classroom buzzes with low chatter as you step inside, expecting another ordinary session. But your steps falter when you see Charlotte standing near the front, clipboard in hand. She glances up briefly, her sharp eyes meeting yours for just a moment before returning to her notes.
You slide into your seat, glancing around the room. Your classmates seem equally surprised by her presence, their whispers filled with speculation.
Madame Leclair enters with her usual air of authority, silencing the room with a single glance. She steps to the center of the room, her sharp gaze sweeping across the students.
The classroom buzzes as Madame Leclair announces the winner of the best design from last week’s presentation.
“And the winning design belongs to… Nikki & Yenni,” she declares, her voice as crisp as ever.
Applause fills the room, louder and more enthusiastic than expected. Nikki and Summer clap the loudest, their expressions gleaming with triumph. Yenni steps forward, his outfit impeccably styled, confidence radiating with every movement.
“Thank you, Madame Leclair,” Yenni says smoothly, his tone practiced yet undeniably genuine. “I couldn’t have done it without my fabulous team for inspiration.” He gestures toward Nikki and Summer, who beam with pride.
Charlotte’s face remains composed, but you notice a flicker of something in her eyes—disappointment, frustration, maybe even anger. You swallow hard, feeling a pang of guilt as you wonder if your own shortcomings in the presentation contributed to this loss.
[[They head towards Charlotte]]As you gather your things, the trio approaches Charlotte, their laughter cutting through the room.
“Well, well, well,” Nikki says, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “It’s a shame, isn’t it? Losing to Me must sting.”
Summer adds, “Maybe you’re slipping, Charlotte. Or maybe you’ve been too distracted lately.” Her eyes dart toward you, the implication clear.
Yenni steps forward, his grin wide. “Let’s be honest—it’s all about the team. And our team? Flawless. You can’t compete when you’re dragging dead weight.” His gaze flicks to you, and his smile grows sharper. "Your 'Boy in a Dress' can't comepte against me, I embrace my feminine side everyday, look at him looks like a junkie"
Your stomach twists as the insult lands. Charlotte’s jaw tightens, but her voice remains steady. “Enjoy your win while it lasts,” she says coldly. “It’s the work that speaks, not the noise.”
“Oh, we plan to,” Nikki says with a smirk. “And when we win again next time, maybe you’ll finally leave the course.”
The trio laughs, their mocking tones ringing in your ears as [[they saunter out of the classroom.]]
After the room empties, Charlotte turns to you. Her expression is calm, but there’s a hardness in her gaze that wasn’t there before.
“This isn’t about them,” she says firmly, as if reading your thoughts. “Their win doesn’t mean your loss. And if they want to flaunt it, let them. We’ll focus on the work.”
You nod, but the weight of their words lingers. For the first time, you wonder if you’re holding Charlotte back—and if you’ll ever be able to stand on your own in a room like this.
[[I will be better for you]]
[[I will be show him, 'boy in a dress']]You take a deep breath, your voice steady despite the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. “I’ll be better for you,” you say, the words carrying a quiet intensity.
Charlotte raises an eyebrow, her expression softening slightly. “This isn’t about me,” she says firmly. “It’s about you. Do this for yourself—not to prove anything to me or anyone else.”
But even as she says it, there’s a flicker of approval in her eyes, a hint that your determination hasn’t gone unnoticed.
[[You leave charlotte for work]]You clench your fists, the sting of Nikki’s taunt fresh in your mind. “I’ll show her,” you say fiercely, your voice gaining strength. “Boy in a dress? I’ll show them what that really means.”
Charlotte blinks, surprised by the fire in your words. Then, a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Good,” she says simply. “Use that energy. Channel it into the work. Let them eat their words.”
Her confidence in you lights a spark, and for the first time in a while, you feel like you have the strength to push forward.
[[You leave charlotte for work]]The store is quiet when you arrive, the usual hum of activity muted in the early hours. Samantha is already at the counter, leaning against it casually as she flips through a catalog. She looks up as you walk in, a grin immediately spreading across her face.
<< If $poolOutfit == "Sister">>
Her grin widens, and she can’t hold back a chuckle. “Well, look who survived their little fashion misadventure. I was starting to think you’d show up in another romper.”
You groan, shaking your head. “Please don’t remind me.”
“Oh, but I can’t forget it. That hat? Those sunglasses? You were practically a fashion icon,” she teases, laughter dancing in her voice.
“Yeah, an icon for humiliation,” you mutter, trying to hide the heat creeping into your cheeks.
Samantha waves a hand, still smiling. “Hey, you owned it—kind of. Honestly, I’ve seen worse looks. You just need a little confidence to pull it off.”
You roll your eyes, but her teasing is lighthearted enough to make the embarrassment a little easier to bear.
<<else>>
Samantha spots the small bag in your hands as you approach the counter, her grin turning softer.
“Ah, my favorite t-shirt and shorts return,” she says, taking the bag from you. “Did they treat you well?”
“Better than that romper ever could,” you reply, managing a small smile. “Thanks again for saving me back there. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
She shrugs, her tone casual but warm. “What are friends for? Besides, it’s not every day I get to play the hero.”
You laugh softly, but she leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “You know, you looked pretty good in them. Maybe I’ll loan you my clothes more often.”
You groan, shaking your head. “Let’s not make that a habit.”
<<if>>
Samantha chuckles, patting your shoulder as she moves back behind the counter. “Fair enough. But seriously, anytime you’re stranded in some nightmare outfit, you know where to find me.”
[[Arrive at Hell?]]
The house is unusually quiet when you step through the door, the kind of silence that feels almost suspicious. As you drop your bag by the couch and head toward the kitchen, you notice a small note stuck to the fridge.
The handwriting is unmistakable—your sister’s.
"You’re free from chores now. But if you feel like doing them, be my guest."
You stare at the note, the words sinking in. Was this another game? A test? Or was she genuinely letting you off the hook? Either way, it didn’t sit right.
Part of you considers ignoring the note altogether, but old habits are hard to break. After a brief moment of hesitation, you check around the house, tidying up small messes here and there. Not because she asked, but because you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving things undone.
[[Room]]Once the minor tidying is out of the way, you retreat to your room, closing the door behind you. The world outside feels far away as you sit at your desk, pulling out your sketchpad and notes.
The events of the past week still linger in your mind—the presentation, the mean girls, Charlotte’s words. You can hear her voice as clearly as if she were standing next to you: “Focus on the work.”
You flip through your course materials, reviewing basic design principles. Your pencil moves across the paper as you sketch out simple concepts, refining your understanding of proportions and balance.
For the first time in days, your thoughts feel clear. No distractions, no taunts, just you and your work. A faint spark of determination flickers within you, reminding you of why you chose this path in the first place.
As the evening wears on, you lose yourself in the quiet rhythm of creating, the sketches piling up on your desk a testament to your resolve.
[[Sleep Day 22]]