Rhea's POV
Okay, so the paste on my face had finally dried, and I was left with what can only be described as a solid mask that fit my face perfectly. No exaggeration, if I wanted to, I could've entered a Halloween contest and won first place. The thing looked terrifyingly real. If I didn't know any better, I would've sworn Lucy had gone full-on artist mode and sculpted my face out of clay. The rest of the transformation, though, was all on Lucy. She carefully painted the mask with the expertise of a seasoned makeup artist, shading it so it actually looked like a human face. Curves, angles, everything. It was disturbingly accurate.
Then, she adjusted the mask. A few more tweaks here, a dab of foundation there. This was no longer a simple "cross-dressing" thing—it was a full-on metamorphosis. I was about to walk into an interview looking like someone entirely different. No longer Rhea, librarian extraordinaire, but a completely new person. A man, no less.
After she was satisfied with the result, she placed the mask on a mannequin head to let it dry. The sight was so bizarre, it almost felt like the mannequin was alive, staring at me. I couldn't help but shiver. If a police officer walked into our apartment right then, they would've probably called for backup, thinking we were some kind of serial killers trying to skin people alive. I couldn't deny it, though; it was a masterpiece.
I stared at the mask in disbelief, wondering how Lucy had managed to make it look so… human. It was uncanny. With a few more expert strokes of her brush, she cleverly painted it to mimic the curves of a real male face, right down to the sharp jawline and high cheekbones.
When she was done, and had left the face on the dummy awaiting the interview day and I almost jumped out of my skin. It looked like someone had just shed their face—and not in a good way. The dummy's head looked like a mannequin from a horror movie, and if it wasn't for the fact that I knew what it was, I'd have sworn it was an actual corpse. The whole thing had a… creepy vibe to it. I almost expected to hear a voice coming from it like, "Help me, I am trapped in this dummy's body!"
I shivered and backed away.
"Okay, enough of that," I muttered. "This is supposed to be my face in a few days. Not my nightmare."
Then came the most exhausting part of the process: the prep. Over the next two days, I had to watch video tutorials on how to sit like a man. You know, all those little details no one ever tells you. "Sit like a rude frat boy," one tutorial said. "Spread your legs wide, let your shoulders relax, and puff out your chest!" Yeah, because nothing says "man" like pretending to be a human bulldozer.
Let me tell you, it was exhausting. By the end of it, my shoulders hurt, my back ached, and I was so sore that I felt like I had just spent an entire day carrying bricks. Did anyone ever warn me about this stuff? I think not.
Then came the night before the interview. Oh, God. It was already 6:00 AM, and Lucy was banging on my door. "Get up, get up! We need to start the transformation!"
My brain had barely processed that information before I was shoved out of bed and led into the living room. First order of business: the boob bandage. Oh, joy. The joys of having a female body. Thankfully, my chest wasn't massive, but even then, wrapping myself up like a mummy felt like a cruel joke.
Seriously, was this what it took to be a man? Why didn't anyone tell me being male involved so much discomfort? The bandages dug into my skin and felt like I was being suffocated from the chest down. It was way worse than wearing a bra, which, let's be real, isn't exactly comfortable either. I groaned as I adjusted the bandages once again, hoping I wouldn't pass out before we even got to the good part.
Once I was strapped in like an Egyptian mummy, we moved on to the suit. A navy blue one, crisp white shirt, and a blue-striped tie that Lucy had chosen because apparently, she thought it would give me "that suave CEO vibe." Did I feel suave? Hell no. I felt like I was in a bad disguise from a B-movie, but I was going along with it. For the oven. The dream oven that we were so close to buying once I pulled off this ridiculous act. It was worth it… I hoped.
"Okay, this is it," Lucy said, her voice going all dramatic as if she were preparing to perform some life-altering magic. She held up the male face mask with a look of complete concentration, like she was about to launch me into another universe.
My eyes were wide as she positioned it against my face. She carefully glued it into place with wig adhesive, and just like that—bam. I looked at myself in the mirror.
Holy. Shit.
A cute, petite guy was staring back at me. Same eyes, same lips, same everything... just in male form. I blinked a few times. No, I wasn't hallucinating. It was real. There, staring at me, was an actual guy. A guy who just so happened to have my eyes, but still. He looked good. Really good. Like, I could totally see him pulling off the whole "CEO" thing without even trying.
"OMG, Rhea," Lucy gasped, eyeing me up and down, clearly impressed. "If I didn't know you were a girl behind that mask, I'd be dripping wet for you." She licked her lips seductively, clearly having too much fun with this whole situation.
I couldn't help but snort. "Well, let's hope I don't mess this up and get myself a six-figure salary. Otherwise, I'll be applying for a male modeling gig instead." I gave her a playful shove, knocking her back on the couch.
"Seriously though, this is amazing. You could totally be a model. If you don't land this job, you could always start a career in that," she teased, winking at me.
I rolled my eyes. "If I get this job, we can finally buy that oven we've been eyeing for months, and you'll get to see me suffer through another year of the fake man routine."
Lucy grinned. "Deal."
But the time... the time was ticking away, and we were running out of it. I glanced at the clock—7:30 AM. Thirty minutes left until the interview, and I was still half-dressed and in full-blown panic mode. My heart began racing. "Shit! I'm going to be late!"
I rushed around the apartment like a madwoman, throwing on the navy blue suit jacket, adjusting the tie, and grabbing my briefcase. Lucy was on her feet, pulling together the last-minute details like some kind of crazy stylist on a tight deadline.
"Don't freak out," she said, throwing me a reassuring smile. "You've got this. You look the part, now just act the part. You've been practicing all week for this moment. Go in there, and channel that cool CEO vibe!"
"I can't believe I'm doing this…" I muttered under my breath. I was both terrified and oddly exhilarated at the same time. I was about to walk into that building, and if I was lucky, I'd leave with a job worth more than I'd ever imagined. No more struggling. No more worrying about how I was going to survive. Just me, my disguise, and the future.
"Alright, here goes nothing." I gave myself one last glance in the mirror. The guy staring back at me looked confident, well-put-together, and, dare I say, hot. If I were a guy, I'd definitely want to hire myself.
I couldn't help but grin at my reflection. "Let's do this."