It took longer than Jon had hoped to apply his makeup, but he really had no other choice. No matter how many times he tried the door, it remained locked. He had even attempted banging on it, yelling for help, but it seemed that nobody could hear him.
And then there was the glow.
The glow that had first started on the underwear he now wore, then moved to the clothes that adorned his body. Now it had moved to the makeup. It was disconcerting. It seemed that whatever was happening to him was giving him very little choice, that he was being guided, directed, toward living a certain way.
And so he sat at the makeup table. When he picked up the lipstick, the glow intensified. In the mirror he could see that his lips, too, were glowing. Experimentally he put the lipstick down, and the glowing on his lips faded. He picked up some eye-liner. A faint glow around his eyes began, then faded again when he dropped the item.
Not only was he being forced to put on makeup, but he was being directed at how to do it! Knowing any delay would only make him later, trapping him in the room, he began to inexpertly apply the makeup, something he'd seen girls do but had never attempted before. It took time, as he wasn't sure if he would be forced to do it over if it looked terrible. In the end it wasn't perfect, but the glow faded from the makeup and his face. His reflection looked strange to him, a boy, in drag, wearing makeup. Was he going to be ready for what the day held for him?
The glow had moved to a white and pink backpack beside the bed. He picked it up and headed for the door which, to his delight, was unlocked. Into the hallway he walked, dreading what was waiting for him.
