Bradley's Story - Chapter 3 - Trevor (Patreon)

Bradley turned off the TV with a loud thud, tossing the remote onto the couch. Everything around him reminded him of how different this world was from the one he was used to. Here, everything was upside down, to the point of absurdity. His frustration had reached its limit. He was boiling inside, and one thought flashed through his mind: "I need to figure this out." The first thing he decided to do was call his friend—the only person who might understand what he was going through.

He dialed the number of his old friend, Trevor, who was practically like his reflection. They had done plenty of business deals together and knew everything about each other, especially when it came to how to "score" with women. 'Why the fuck is he taking so long?! Was he drinking all night?' Bradley thought as he listened to the long, drawn-out ringing before a familiar voice finally answered on the other end.

— Hey, Bradley! — came a cheerful, soft voice that barely resembled the tough, commanding man Bradley knew.

— Trevor? Is that you? — Bradley frowned, his heart starting to race. — This is fucking insane, something really messed up is going on! — Bradley spat out, unable to contain his anger.

But what he heard in response was nothing like what he expected:

— Bradley, sweetie, why are you so worked up? — Trevor giggled. His voice was so soft and carefree that Bradley immediately tensed.

— What the fuck?! What the hell is with the ‘sweetie’? Did you turn gay or something?! — Bradley couldn’t hold back his rage, his voice rising into a yell. He was so stunned by what he was hearing from Trevor that he felt like his friend had lost his mind.

— Bradley, honey, you know I love girls, and besides, what does that have to do with anything? — Trevor’s voice had a hint of hurt in it. — Don’t talk like that! Remember, you’re a man, and men shouldn’t be so aggressive and rude. We need to support each other, not act like this. So, what’s going on with you? — Trevor’s voice was unusually gentle, as if he genuinely cared. In the background, there was a soft sizzling sound—he might have been frying or boiling something.

Bradley, feeling his patience running thin, tried to calm down.

— What’s going on? Everything’s going on! — Bradley exploded again. — I woke up with long hair, painted nails, and in a stupid nightgown, and Sarah’s acting like a fucking dude! She’s telling me to make her breakfast and coffee! And you, with your ‘sweetie’ crap! What the hell is happening, Trevor?!

Trevor sighed softly, as if listening to the tantrum of a small child.

— Bradley, sweetie, you’re just stressed, — he said, staying unbelievably calm. — You know it’s important to maintain balance in a relationship. Sometimes a man needs to be gentle and attentive. Women… well… you know women need to feel cared for and noticed, — Trevor continued in his new, sweet tone. — We men need to be soft, understanding.

Bradley froze, barely holding the phone to his ear.

— Trevor, — his voice trembled with tension. — Stop this shit! Is this some kind of joke?! Are you pranking me, huh?! Is there a hidden camera in my house somewhere?! — Bradley yelled, his voice shaking with tension and desperation. He glanced around, trying to find any sign that this was some kind of prank.

Trevor, on the other end of the line, remained just as calm and soft-spoken.

— Oh, Bradley, you just need to relax, — Trevor’s voice became even softer, syrupy sweet. — Go get a manicure or have a spa day. You know how calming that is when everything feels like it's falling apart.

Bradley fell silent abruptly, unable to believe what he had just heard. He sat there, mouth open, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine. A spa day? A manicure? Is this a fucking joke?

— Trevor, are you out of your fucking mind? — he finally blurted out. — What the hell do you mean ‘manicure’? Do you even understand what I’m saying? I’ve become... — he hesitated, unable to find the words. — I look like... like some kind of... chick! My nails are painted, my hair’s long! And you’re talking to me about spa days?

Trevor’s voice changed slightly, a hint of worry creeping in.

— Like a chick? What do you mean? — Trevor paused for a moment, and there was a trace of concern in his voice, as if he didn’t fully understand what Bradley was implying. — You… like, messy? Oh God, Bradley, you’ve got to take care of yourself, or Sarah’s going to stop loving you. You know how important it is to look neat. Especially if you have a family and you need to keep things in order. If you start looking like… like a chick, she might leave.

— Messy? — Bradley choked out, feeling his anger and despair growing inside. — I look like a doll from a fucking glamour magazine, and you’re talking about being messy?! Sarah’s acting like a guy! She’s bossing me around, telling me what to do, like I’m… like I’m her fucking housekeeper! — his voice was filled with frustration, and he couldn’t stop. — And you think this is normal?

— Well, of course it’s normal, Bradley, — Trevor answered with a light sigh, as if his friend wasn’t grasping something obvious. — It’s natural. We men are supposed to stay home, keep things in order, look neat and attractive for our wives. That’s part of our duties too—to take care of the house, ourselves, and our women. I just don’t get why you’re so worked up. I was so happy for you and Sarah, thought you were calling to chat, to chirp about little things, but instead you... — Trevor’s voice faded slightly, as if he was just realizing the full extent of Bradley’s outrage. But then his cheerful laugh filled the line again.

— Oh, Bradley, don’t be so dramatic. Let’s just go get manicures together. You’ll relax, we’ll talk, and everything will be fine. I’ve got a free morning anyway. Just imagine how amazing our nails will look! I’m so in love with the new salon that opened downtown. You’ve got to try it, their artists are absolute magicians!

— A manicure?! — Bradley nearly dropped the phone, his brain refusing to take this seriously. — Do you even hear what you’re saying, Trevor? A manicure? Have you lost your fucking mind?

Trevor giggled again, clearly distracted by something in the background. Bradley fell silent, feeling the rage inside him reaching its peak. It felt like his brain was about to explode. Everything around him felt alien, this world was all wrong, turned completely upside down, and his friend Trevor… He had changed beyond recognition, too.

— Me... — Bradley hissed, trying to hold back his growing anger. — Go with you for a manicure? Not in a million years! I’m gonna figure out what the hell is going on, and then I’ll knock the shit out of you for all this!

Trevor sighed, pausing for a moment, and then added:

— You know, I didn’t like it when my best friend talks to me like that, — Trevor’s voice trembled, as if he was on the verge of tears. — I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I don’t want to be treated like this, — Trevor’s voice quivered with hurt. — I’ve had enough of Jessica always talking to me like that, — Trevor finished, his voice shaking, like he was ready to burst into tears.

Bradley barely contained his laughter at the absurdity of it all. Jessica? That meek girl who always waited for Trevor after the gym, obediently agreeing with his every word? Bradley remembered how they used to talk about her submissiveness. And now this same Jessica apparently "ran" Trevor.

— Come on, Trevor, — Bradley couldn’t help himself, a sarcastic smile flickering across his face. — Don’t tell me you let Jessica boss you around like that?

On the other end of the line, there was a sniffle, followed by a soft sobbing that turned into a quiet cry.

— I… I can’t help it, Bradley, — Trevor’s voice trembled with emotion. — You don’t understand how hard it is… She’s always stronger than me. When she’s angry, I just can’t fight back. I’m only... a man, — those last words came out as a shameful, helpless confession.

— You’re kidding me, right? — Bradley barely managed to choke out, his voice now free of sarcasm, replaced by something close to desperation. — What the hell is happening?

Trevor continued to sob, his voice pitiful:

— Maybe you should talk to Sarah, Bradley. Maybe you’re not getting something… — his voice wavered. — I just want… for things to be okay for you.

Bradley felt something inside him break. He dropped the phone. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would leap out of his chest. He stared at the screen, where Trevor’s name was still glowing softly, the call still active. The sobs on the other end were now clear, sharp. His friend—confident, dominant Trevor, who once had no hesitation putting women in their place—was now crying like a child, unable to stand up to his girlfriend.

"What the fuck is going on?" ran through his mind. He shook his head, feeling the long, blonde strands softly brush against his neck and shoulders.

He glanced at his hands again—long, slender fingers with perfectly painted pink nails. They were his hands, but they felt too small, almost foreign. His body no longer felt like his own. Bradley stepped toward the mirror, where another shock awaited him.

He froze, noticing what he had been ignoring before—his waist was much slimmer, as if his body had shrunk, losing its former power. His shoulders now appeared delicate, and his figure, as much as he hated to admit it, had taken on graceful, almost feminine curves. Bradley leaned in closer to the mirror to examine his face.

He squinted, noticing details that had once seemed impossible. Tiny earrings sparkled in his earlobes—shiny, barely noticeable, but so unnatural for him. He had never worn jewelry, yet now they looked as if they had always been part of him. Bradley instinctively touched them with his fingers, and his heart stopped.

— What the hell is this joke? — he whispered, staring into his own reflection.

His face was… his, but also not his. His features were finer, the skin smooth and well-maintained. There were no traces of his former ruggedness—everything was softer, gentler. His lips were slightly fuller, with a natural pink tint, as if they had been subtly enhanced. His eyebrows, once thick and rough, were now thin and neatly shaped, highlighting a new, refined look. Even his stubble seemed perfectly groomed, giving his face an even more polished appearance.

"What the fuck…" He raised his hands, then clenched his fingers into a fist, feeling the unpleasant sensation of his long nails digging into his skin. Everything was so absurd that he wanted to laugh. But no laughter came. This was too real.

— Fuck! — Bradley shouted, knocking several bottles of cosmetics off the shelf in his fury. He hoped that by destroying this hated world around him, he could bring back the reality he knew. But the items hit the floor with dull thuds, changing nothing around him.