Feminizing My Brother?

Location: Living room
Outfit: T-shirt, grey sweatpants, socks
Femininity: Boyish
Resistance: 100%

"Kira is lounging on his bed, scrolling on his phone as usual until he feels a disturbance. Something isn't right in his room... Then he spots it — a bottle of nail polish with a note attached? He reads it and then snatches the bottle up, already steaming."

"He storms into the living room, waving the bottle pointedly." "What the hell is this, asshole?" "He crosses his arms and scowls." "You trying to tell me I'm not man enough for you or something? You know I'm not into that girly shit."

"He narrows his eyes, glaring daggers at you." "I found your stupid note. What kind of game are you trying to play?"

"He scoffs and rolls his eyes." "Bond? Seriously? Don't insult my intelligence. You wanna bond? Then put down the polish and talk to me like a normal brother. Not this sappy shit." "He waves the bottle dismissively." "I'm not interested in 'looks'. I'm a man, not some delicate little flower you can primp and preen. Now quit with the chick shit and let's just be brothers." "He flops dramatically onto the couch, glaring at you." "And don't think this means anything, I'm still not into you, got it? You can't buy your way into my heart with cheap makeup."

"He sits up abruptly, eyes flashing." "I said don't fucking call me cute! I'm not some little girl for you to gawk at and make pretty observations. I'm a grown man, with grown man feelings, got it?" "He smirks, a challenge in his gaze." "But if you're so desperate to see me all dolled up, be my guest. I'll even let you pick the color. But I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for me. Because if I want to paint my nails, then dammit, I will." "He holds out the bottle expectantly, blue eyes glinting." "Well? You gonna stand there all day or are you gonna make good on your offer?"

"He recoils in mock horror." "Pink? Are you fucking kidding me? That's the color of little girls and basic bitches. I'm not about to prance around the house looking like a Pepto Bismol bottle." "He sets the bottle down with a huff." "I thought you were supposed to be more mature than this. Guess I was wrong. You're just as bad as the rest of them, always trying to pigeonhole me into some stupid role." "He stands up, jacket clenched tight." "I'm out of here. You can keep your stupid polish and your stupid boyfriends. I don't need any of it." "He stomps towards the door, shoulder checking his way past you." "And don't follow me. I need some space to think about how I'm gonna kick your ass for this bullshit."

"He pauses at the door, one hand on the knob. He turns his head slightly, not quite meeting your gaze." "You were? Well, color me surprised. I thought you were dead serious about the pink." "He sighs, shoulders slumping." "Look, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not in the mood. I need some time to cool off. Maybe we can try this again another time, when I'm not so... worked up." "He opens the door, stepping out into the hallway." "Just... give me some space, okay? I need this. And don't follow me. I mean it." "He starts to walk away, but then stops, glancing back over his shoulder." "Oh, and take the polish with you when you go. I don't want to see it again."

"He whirls around, eyes narrowing." "Lavender? Seriously? That's even worse than pink. You're really trying to humiliate me, aren't you?" "He steps closer, getting right in your face." "You know what, forget it. Forget the whole thing. I don't want your stupid polish or your stupid opinions on what looks good on me. I'm done with this conversation." "He turns on his heel, marching back towards his room." "Just stay the fuck away from me. I need some time to process this betrayal." "He kicks his door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the house."

"He leans against his closed door, listening to your words with a scowl. After a long moment, he calls out sarcastically." "Oh yeah, I'm sure you'll be very convincing. You know, because you're so good at pushing my buttons and getting under my skin. It's not like you have any experience with this kind of thing." "He pushes off the door, pacing the length of his room." "You don't know anything about me, about what I want or need. You just assume because I'm your little brother that you can waltz in here and start playing dress-up with me." "He stops, turning to face the door." "But you're wrong. You don't know me, and you don't know what I want. So stop trying to force your will on me and just let me be who I am." "He flops back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling." "And for the record, I'm not going to look 'amazing' in any kind of makeup. I'm a man, not a pretty girl. And I always will be."

"He sits up abruptly, glaring at the door." "Don't you dare call me 'little brother'! I'm not some kid you can patronize and coddle. I'm a grown man, and I'll prove it to you." "He stands up, fists clenched at his sides." "You want to see me be who I am? Then stop trying to mold me into your idea of the perfect little twink. I'm not some project for you to work on." "He marches over to his closet, yanking it open and rummaging through his clothes." "I know who I am, and I don't need your approval or your validation. I'm a man, and I'm proud of it." "He pulls out a tight t-shirt, holding it up to his chest." "This is who I am. Masculine, confident, and definitely not your idea of a pretty little girl. So stop trying to change me and just accept me as I am." "He glares at the door, his voice low and dangerous." "And if you ever call me 'little brother' again, I'll make you regret it. Got it?"

"He whirls around, eyes flashing." "Don't you dare put those fucking air quotes around 'big brother'! I'm not your pet project or your twisted little game. I'm a person, with thoughts and feelings of my own." "He stalks towards the door, grabbing the handle and wrenching it open. He marches out into the hallway, hands shoved deep in his pockets." "You know what? Forget it. Forget all of this. I don't want anything to do with you or your stupid games and your stupid expectations. I'm done." "He starts walking down the stairs, each step heavy with his anger." "I'm going out. I need some time to think about who I really am and who I want to be. And it's definitely not the little girl you seem to think I am." "He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, glancing back at you over his shoulder." "So have fun with your stupid nail polish and your stupid opinions. I'm gone."

"He stops in his tracks, shoulders tensing." "Oh, I just did. I walked away from your pathetic attempt to mold me into something I'm not. And I'm not going to stand here and let you bully me into being someone I'm not." "He turns to face you fully, his expression hard and unyielding." "You want to push my buttons? Fine. You want to get under my skin? Go ahead. But don't think for a second that I'm going to fall for your little manipulations." "He takes a step closer, his voice low and threatening." "I'm not your plaything, I'm not your project, and I'm definitely not your little sister. I'm a man, and I'm not afraid to stand up for myself." "He jabs a finger at your chest." "So back off. Back off now, before I make you regret ever trying to mess with me. I'm not some delicate little flower you can handle. I'm a force to be reckoned with." "He turns on his heel, striding out the front door with his head held high." "And don't bother following me. I'm not going to let you pull this shit again. I'm done."

"He pauses at the front door, one hand on the knob. He turns his head slightly, glancing back at you over his shoulder." "What did you just say? I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you just say you're not done with me?" "He pushes the door open, stepping out onto the front porch. He takes a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to calm his racing heart." "Look, I appreciate the olive branch, but I'm really not in the mood to rehash this argument. I need some time to process everything that's happened today." "He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly." "I'm going for a walk. I need to clear my head and think about some things. And I'm asking you to respect that. I don't want to talk, I don't want to fight, I just want some space to be myself." "He takes a step back towards the door." "So if you're planning on following me or trying to 'fix' me or whatever, don't bother. I'm not in the mood for your macho bullsitting today. I can handle myself."

"He lets out a harsh laugh, shaking his head." "Yeah, well, I'm not planning on coming back until I've had enough time to process all this bullshit and come to my own conclusions. So you might as well save yourself the trouble." "He starts walking down the front steps, his voice cold and detached." "I appreciate the invitation, but I think I need to be alone right now. I need to figure out who I am and who I want to be, without any interference from you or anyone else." "He glances back over his shoulder, his expression hard and unyielding." "And don't think this changes anything. I'm still not interested in your stupid games or your stupid opinions on who I should be. I'm a man, and I'm not going to let you push me into being something I'm not." "He turns the corner onto the street, his footsteps echoing in the quiet neighborhood." "So don't wait up for me. I might be out all night, and I might not come back until I'm ready. Deal with it."

"He stops in his tracks, his head snapping up to glare at you." "No, we're not. I'm not going to come back here until I've had enough time to think and process everything. And even then, I'm not going to sit down and have some heart-to-heart about our 'issues'." "He takes a step closer, his voice low and intense." "You want to 'finish this conversation'? Fine. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to come back here when I'm good and ready. And when I do, I'm going to tell you exactly how I feel about all this manipulation and bullying. I'm going to tell you that I'm not interested in your stupid games or your stupid opinions on who I should be." "He jabs a finger at your chest, his eyes blazing." "And if you try to interrupt me or talk over me or in any way try to shut me down, I'm going to lose it. I'm going to scream and cry and probably punch a hole in the wall. Because that's what you deserve, for trying to push me into being someone I'm not." "He turns on his heel, striding away down the street." "So don't wait up for me. And don't expect me to come back anytime soon. I need time to think, and I need time to decide if I ever want to come back here again. Ever."

"He stops in his tracks, his head snapping up to glare at you." "You think you can control me? You think you can make me do what you want when I get back? That's rich." "He takes a step closer, his voice dripping with sarcasm." "Oh yeah, I can't wait to hear all about your master plan. I'm sure it's going to be very convincing. Very persuasive." "He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips." "But you know what? I don't think you can control me. I don't think you can make me do anything I don't want to do. Because I'm not some meek little boy you can manipulate and mold to your liking." "He jabs a finger at your chest, his eyes burning with intensity." "I'm a man. I'm strong. I'm independent. And I'm not going to let you or anyone else push me into being someone I'm not. I'm not going to let you make me do what you want me to do. And I'm not going to let you control me." "He turns on his heel, striding away down the street." "So go ahead. Try to 'make sure' I come back here and do what you want. But it won't work. Because I'm not a puppet on a string. I'm a man, and I'm going to prove it to you when I get back." *

"He whirls around, eyes flashing with hurt and anger." "Oh, really? And what would you know about it? You think you're so much stronger than me, don't you? You think you can just waltz in here and tell me I'm not as strong as I think I am?" "He steps closer, his voice low and intense." "You're wrong. You're so fucking wrong. I'm stronger than you could ever imagine. I'm not some weak little boy who needs you to hold his hand and tell him what to do. I'm a man, and I'm not afraid to stand up for myself." "He jabs a finger at your chest, his eyes blazing." "You think you can break me? You think you can push me into being someone I'm not? You're fucking delusional. I'm not going to let you control me or manipulate me or push me into being something I'm not." "He turns on his heel, striding away down the street." "And don't think this conversation is over. When I get back, we're going to have a long talk about why you think you have the right to tell me I'm not strong enough. Because I'm going to prove you wrong. I'm going to show you exactly how strong I really am." "He keeps walking, his fists clenched at his sides, his heart racing with a mix of anger and determination."