Chapter Text
「K.O.『 俺達は無敵だ。 無敵のコンビだぜ。』」
“Fuck!” I tighten my grip on my controller, only barely resisting the urge to chuck it across the room. “God damn it, that bullshit slow bullet move is so fuckin’- augh!!!” I do eventually let go, allowing the gray hunk of plastic to fall unceremoniously to the carpeted floor. “When the hell did you get so good at HFTF, anyway?”
Kris tilts his head, his face contorted into his signature look of superiority that always manages to piss me off. “Have you considered that maybe…” He reaches forward, pressing his finger to my chest. “you're just really bad? Hmm?”
“You’re so annoying,” I retort, swatting away his pesky hand as I attempt to sulk in my defeat. “It’s like you get off on being a pest or something.”
“You wish.” Kris leans to the side, resting his head on my slumped shoulder. I can feel his light stubble scrape against my skin through my shirt, and I almost push him off just to avoid the sensation. “Still not into guys, though. Sorry, bro.”
I snort, feeling slightly better about my embarrassing defeat now that I've been reminded how stupid my opponent is. “Pfft. So if I was a chick, you'd be interested?”
“Dude, if you were a chick we would be doing more than playing games right now, I can tell you that.” Kris winks, and I can only wince in response. “You’d be face-down in my bed and I'd be-”
“Jesus Christ, shut up! You're such a fuckin’ creep. I don't wanna hear about your- eugh, what the hell man? That's so weird…” I push him off my shoulder, anxiously looking down at his hands, absentmindedly twiddling my fingers as I temporarily—but only temporarily—consider the prospect. I mean, his hands do look kinda… nice, I guess. “That’s, uh, weird.”
“Really? ‘Cause you totally started blushing, even though I was just fucking with you. Really makes me wonder if-”
“Well- well stop wondering!” I pick up the controller, lightly tossing it as my adversary in a bashful fit of ‘I want this guy to shut the fuck up’. “So weird!”
Kris easily manages to deflect the projectile, sending it harmlessly to the floor with a muffled thud. He’s pretty muscular, so it makes sense that he’s unaffected by my attack—it’s still a little frustrating to see, though. “Okay, okay, calm the hell down! Jeez, if you think that's weird, you're gonna hate what I have in store for you.” Kris’ face is plastered with a lecherous grin, and I can't help but shiver slightly at the sight because what the hell is he planning?
“Oh my god, you were serious about that fucking dare thing?” Kris nods. “Uuuuuugh. I seriously thought you were just messing around! I wouldn't have agreed to a match if I knew this kinda thing was actually on the line.” I run my hands through my admittedly rather overgrown head of hair, before letting out an exasperated sigh. “But sure, whatever. Just- just tell me what it is you want me to do. B-but if you're gonna try and get me to wingman for you again, I have to warn you that it's not gonna work. Like how it hasn't worked the last four times.”
“Ye of little faith,” Kris chides as he bends forward and begins to rummage through whatever ungodly contents lay beneath his bed. “No, it's nothing like that. I've got a more… personal request.” I'm barely listening, my mind preoccupied by the weird feelings proliferating my body. When Kris jokes about that kinda thing, why do I feel all weird? It's not a bad weird, but I don't know if I'd call it a good weird either. Just… weird. Also, why am I thinking about all of that just from seeing him bent over in front of me- okay that’s enough of that train of thought!
Eventually, he returns from the dark, uncharted abyss with a black trashbag, a white printed label reading ‘PRIVATE’. “Have you ever cosplayed before?”
“What? Uh…” I take a moment to consider whether to mention my brief escapades into the world of crossdressing, but decide to omit it. Kris doesn't need to know about that side of me, after all—he’d probably think I'm weird. That, or he'd get the wrong idea and… “No, not really. Why, what's up? Do you need help making something? I'm total dogshit at tailoring or sewing, so-”
“Nah, nah, it's not that, man.” Kris unceremoniously dumps the contents of the trashbag onto my lap. “You’re gonna be wearing this.”
“No the fuck I am not,” I state plainly, my face rapidly flushing at even the prospect.
“What? Why not?” Kris gives me an innocent look of disappointment, and it takes everything in my power not to push him down and grab his short black head of hair and- and-
“Dude, seriously this is- this is fucked up! I mean these are…” I pick up a white sleeveless top from the pile of clothing now littering my lap with a grimace. “These are girls' clothes, dude.”
“Yeah!” Kris nods emphatically,
“So do you not see the issue here or are you just being an ignorant dick on purpose?”
“Oh, I dunno! Could be either, really!” Kris fishes through the pile, retrieving a black choker with a small metallic pin embedded in its surface. “But don't you think you'd look cute in this?”
“No!!” I attempt to rip it from his grasp, but Kris hastily pulls his hand away with a chiding ‘tut-tut’. “Is this like a fetish thing or something? Humiliating me by making me wear this… stuff?”
“Do you really wanna know the answer to that, Morgan?” Kris’ smile is more than enough evidence to me that I do not, in fact, want to know; I shake my head. “That’s what I thought. Now put it on, pretty boy. Unless you wanna take the penalty for chickening out? I'd be more than happy to see that, y'know~.”
“Just shut the fuck up,” I grumble as I scoop all of the clothing into my arms and storm out of the room. “But you tell nobody about this, got it?!” I yell from the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind me. “Not a single fucking soul!”
“I wouldn't share this kinda sight with another person on Earth,” Kris whispers to himself as he anxiously awaits the sight of his friend dressed up as she is meant to be.
I quickly and routinely strip myself of all of my clothing, trying my best to avoid my reflection in Kris’ mirror as I do so. I don’t know why, but I’ve never liked looking at myself in the mirror—it just feels… wrong, somehow. It’s gonna feel even more wrong once I finish putting this all on, that’s for sure.
“Oh fuck off.” From within the pile, I hesitantly fish out a pair of black lace… underwear. Yeah, they’re just underwear, that’s fine. “I’m allowed to touch underwear, right? Even if it’s a-a- pair of…” I can’t even finish the sentence, biting the bullet as well as my tongue as I slowly—far, far too slowly—work them up my legs to their final resting spot. “They barely cover anything.” Even in my past miserable attempts at crossdressing, I had never actually gone so far as to wear… Well, something like this. I catch a peek of myself in the mirror, and I can’t help but notice that I’m smiling for some ungodly reason. “Oh god, am I a pervert?” The realization hits me like a sack of bricks, but I just decide to ignore it. Nothing to worry about! “I’m not hard, so it’s fine. I’m not hard, so it’s… it’s fine. I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m just following through on a bet. Yeah”
Next are the black shorts, which I easily manage to equip—they are perhaps the most familiar part of the outfit even if they do hug my thighs in a way that is… decidedly unfamiliar. Still, this entire thing isn’t too bad so far. “I look alright, I guess,” I mutter as I spin around in front of the mirror. I’ve never been particularly masculine, so the aesthetic isn’t terrible by any means, even if it does make my chest feel all weird.
“Alright, now the shirt.” It’s an honestly rather cute white button-up blouse, and I almost feel bad for forcing it to conform to the shape of my decidedly uncute shoulders and chest. Still, I manage to get it on, watching my hands in the mirror as I steadily button it up to my neck. I don’t even realize until my hands get near my face that I’m breathing rather heavily, my inhalations unsteady and erratic. “S-shit… What is wrong with me?” I shouldn’t be enjoying this—I mean, I’m obviously not enjoying this—so why is my body so excited?
I take a final look in the mirror, holding up the last two items which I know I won’t be able to put on myself: the black choker with a pin in it and a black ribbon which would go… somewhere, presumably. I look the same, mostly—still got my tired eyes and my long messy brown hair—but also a little different in a way that’s far more intangible than the fact that I’m wearing girls' clothing.
“I’ll just get Kris to put these on for me.” The idea is honestly a little enthralling and I ought to kick my own ass for even thinking something like that. “Alright, just- just go out and act normal. This is normal, I’m still just… a guy. In… girl clothes. Yeah.”
“Alright, I think I've managed to get most of it on. You're gonna have to help me with the choker though; I couldn't get it to latch or whatever it's supposed to do. That and the, uh, ribbon… tie… thing…” I pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to psyche myself up. “Okay, I'm coming in now. You better not fucking laugh or I'm gonna beat the shit outta you, alright?” Kris is silent, but I trust him enough to know that I’m not joking about kicking his ass. I feel strangely vulnerable as I open the door to his bedroom, and I can’t help but try to cover myself with my arms as I do so. “It, um… I put it on.”
Kris just looks at me. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t emote, nothing. He just stares—he stares with the intensity of a predator looking upon its injured prey. “Are you going to say something, or did you just want to gawk at m-”
“You look good,” Kris finally says, and I almost feel my heart explode out of my chest at that because what? “Seriously, did you look at yourself in the mirror? Because ho-ly shit.”
“S-shut the hell up, dude!” I storm forward, almost ready to lay my hands on him before I remember the state of dressedness I’m in, and I can’t help but stumble back a bit. For some reason, wearing this kind of thing just makes me feel different. “Don’t say stupid stuff like that just to embarrass me. I already feel humiliated, so you got what you wanted, right? Are you happy now, or-”
I’m interrupted by Kris’ hand intertwining with mine as he drags me down to the floor, bringing me to his level as I let out a mortifyingly shrill shriek. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask, my hand- my hand still in his… Why is he still holding my hand? “W-what are you…”
“I wasn’t joking,” he states plainly, his face slightly red as he looks away from me and to the floor. “I do think you look… really good. Really good. Um… shit, I thought I would know what to say right now.” He runs his free hand over his forehead, as if trying to extract the thoughts from his racing mind to put them into words. “You look… pretty.”
“Pretty?!” I instinctively attempt to pull my hand back, but his grip strength far exceeds my own strength and I remain completely stationary in his grasp. “S-shut up, asshole! I’m not… I mean I couldn’t be pretty, so you have to be lying. D-don’t lie to me right now, I’m…” I finally manage to look into his eyes, which seem to hold such compassion and empathy and desire. “I feel so weird. This- this isn’t right, this is wrong! I shouldn’t be wearing this, it’s- it’s- like…”
“It’s what?” Kris squeezes my hand, and it makes all of these weird complicated feelings even worse and better and I can’t help but want to scream. “You can talk to me, I… I didn’t want to like, upset you or-”
“I’m not upset!” I pause for a moment, before eventually continuing. “Well, maybe I am a little bit, but that’s the issue! I should be really upset! I should be, but… I don’t think that’s what I’m f-feeling. Mmn…” My entire body feels like it’s burning up, and I wish I could just die of embarrassment right now and never have to deal with the implications of this again. “D-do you really think I look… pretty?”
“Yeah. You’re um…” His gaze seems fixated on my chest, and it feels as though it’s scalding my skin with how warm everything feels. “I really think it suits you.”
“Who, um… who am I dressed up as, anyway? I’m assuming it’s one of your waifus or something weird like that.” Kris doesn’t respond, his face squishing together as if attempting to hold back from reacting. “A-actually?! No way, wait- wait- you actually had me dress up as a girl you’re into?! For real?”
“Y-yeah, I mean, I didn’t think you would ask, heh. Is that, um… is that bad?”
I fold my arms and look away from him, unable to face him as I admit “No, I guess it’s not bad… I guess it's kinda flattering, or whatever. That you… c-chose me…” I trail off, trying my damnedest to not express how it truly makes me feel.
“Well, I’m glad you’re not mad. I was fully expecting to be taking a flurry of fists to the sternum right about now,” Kris jokes, and I can’t help but laugh along even though it’s really not funny and perhaps reflective of a very possible reality. “But, uh, you’re Reze from Chainsaw Man.”
“Oh, yeah! I think I remember you talking about her some. About how she’s cute and- and, um… how enthusiastic and s-spirited she… is…” Oh. “Kris, do you…?”
“What? Do I what?” He asks, somewhat frantically as though attempting to distract me from actually finishing my thought. “I really didn’t mean anything by this, I just thought it would be funny so I impulse bought all this stuff, that’s all.”
“Uh huh,” I deadpan. “And it just so happens that it all happened to be specifically fitted to my measurements? That was just part of the joke?”
“What has gotten into you?” He asks, seemingly amused by something or other. “You’re acting all smug, like you’ve figured something out. And just for the record, it was… well, maybe it wasn’t an impulse buy, but I wasn’t planning on-”
“Bullshit,” I whisper, slowly crawling towards him. “You had this all planned out didn’t you? You were probably practicing that fuckin’ game for ages, all to make sure that you had me just where you wanted me. All to get me dressed up as an anime girl you’re crushing on… What are you implying, Kris? Just fuckin’ tell me.” Our faces are closer than they’ve ever been, and I can feel his warm breath on my cheek as I stare intently into his eyes. “Tell me.”
“I wanted to see you as a woman, alright?” He covers his face for a moment, but quickly gains the courage to make eye contact with me again. “I thought—no, I knew—that you’d like it, but I didn’t know how to tell you. It felt… presumptuous, I guess. That’s why. And I guess I was right, eh?” I blink at him a couple times, attempting to actually parse his words and what they could possibly mean.
“WHAT!?” I scream far louder than I had intended as I scuttle backward into the wall. “N-no, that’s not at all what’s happening here! I’m not- this isn’t- it’s not like that! I’m a guy, you know that! It’s obvious! I have a man’s face! I have a man’s shoulders and a man’s chest and- and- and… I’m not enjoying this, you’re just getting confused!”
“Is that why you’re smiling so hard, Morgan? Because of how bad you hate this?” Kris’ voice switches to that condescending tone he does and I want more than anything to reach out and smack that stupid smile off his face, but he closes the distance and approaches me instead. “‘Cause of what a manly man you are? Hmm? Is that why you were so shy to be seen like this? Why you were embarrassed?”
“I-I-I!!! Oh god, don’t… Kris, please, I- I can’t be… I can’t…” I’m denying my own feelings more than anything else, but he can’t know that. There’s no way he can actually know how I’m feeling. “This is just- okay, maybe I’m just enjoying it because it’s like… a fetish, right? It could be a fetish! Yeah, this is just some fucked up kink I have that you didn’t know about. Wow, everyone point and laugh at Morgan! He’s into crossdressing, what a f-freak!”
Kris seems thoroughly unconvinced, holding up the choker with a mischievous grin. “It is a fetish, Morgan, but you’re wrong about one thing. It’s not your fetish.” He slips the choker around my neck, tightly securing it with a satisfying tug. “It’s mine. So just be a good girl, okay?”
I can’t even muster real words as I melt under his touch. This is not how I was expecting this evening to go…