"So, remind me again why I have to wear this ridiculously short skirt?" Ryan scowled and tried to pull his skirt down again. No matter how many times he tried, it always bounced back up. Was this what Riley had to deal with?

Wes smacked his hands away and waved a finger at him. "Touching the skirt again is a no-no. It's the uniform. Deal with it." He studied the uniform with a critical eye. The breasts and the hair could come later, but as his gaze wandered down his boyfriend's body, he grimaced.

Like most boys, his legs were covered in fine hairs, but as a girl, that would simply not do. Wes picked up the razor. "You know what comes next, honey."

Ryan backed away. "Oh, no. Get that thing away from me!"

Wes' lips twitched as he turned to slowly turn the lock on the door.

The maids down the hall startled at the unmanly yelps and thumps that came from the twins' bathroom, but decided it was none of their business.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Wes smiled at Ryan as he finished applying the bandages. Ryan glowered as he patted gingerly at his legs.

"Speak for yourself. I feel like someone stripped something important from me."

"It's just hair."

Ryan glared at him. "How can you say that?"

Wes rolled his eyes and twirled his car keys on his finger. "Whatever. We need to get the rest of the things done, not of least, your hair."

After packing up Riley's clothes and a few of his own, Ryan informed the butler that his sister had left earlier to go to a friend's house and that he would be leaving as well. That completed, he finally shoved Riley's luggage (fortunately, it looked identical to his own) into the back of Wes' Jaguar and slid into the passenger seat.

The drive to a hair salon was quick, and before he knew it, he was sitting in front of a puzzled teenage girl as she sized his hair up.

"How do you want your hair cut?"

"He needs some extensions. And trim the bangs a little. Make him look like this." Wes pulled out a recent picture of Riley. The girl's eyes widened.

"You want me to cut his hair like a girl's and add tons of extensions?"

"Yes. You're getting paid either way." Wes stopped playing with Ryan's hair for a moment and slanted his eyes sideways to meet the girl's. "Or would you like me to speak to your manager…?"

She paled and stepped forward with her scissors. Twenty minutes later, she swept the last of the cut hair from Ryan's shoulders and turned the chair around so Wes could appraise him.

"You know…this is probably the best work I've ever done."

Ryan gaped, amazed and not a little horrified. Looking back at him was a mirror image of Riley (minus breasts and make-up, of course). His mother herself would not be able to tell them apart.

Wes winked and paid her.

"Hair, check, legs, check, uniform check. Hm…what about voice?"

"You mean like this?"

Wes nearly slammed on his brakes as his head whirled to the side. "Oh, fuck, you sound just like her."

Ryan let an uncharacteristic smirk cross his face. "Of course. How do you think Riley got away with half the things she did? Besides…" He pointed to the choker around his neck. "Voice modifier."

Wes nodded and turned the corner. "Fortunately, Riley likes scarves. Would hate to explain why 'Riley' grew an Adam's apple."

"Yeah, no kidding. So where to next?"

"Weekend clothes and lingerie. I don't think your sister would appreciate you using her bras."

"I don't think I want to touch hers either."

"Hm…what about this one?"

Wes' head went up before immediately going down. "Uh, no. Just no. My grandmother wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole."

Ryan studied the skirt in his hand. Well, orange wasn't exactly a good color with his complexion and the floral designs were a little off. His face fell. "Yeah, you're right." He reached for a blue blouse. "What about this?"

"Oh, much better."

They left Barneys New York half an hour later with large bags. As they passed by the entrance, Ryan eyed the crowd of boys uncomfortably.

"Wes…why are they staring at me like that?"

"Because you're—" A few catcalls reached their ears and Ryan blushed. "Yeah, that."

"Let's just get out of here."

At the crosswalk, a car pulled up and the window rolled down. A straggly-haired man leered at Ryan and he shuddered. "Hey, baby, want a ride?"

"With you? Uh, no!"

The man scowled. "Bitch." He revved up his engine and drove away with a screech.

Wes stared at Ryan strangely. "I don't know whether to be proud or jealous…"

"What can I help you with today, miss?"

Ryan looked at Wes questioningly. Wes shrugged. "I think she'll need some bras and underwear. Possibly padding too."

The woman stared at them and blinked. "I see. What is your size?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm a 34B." Both the woman and Wes stared at him in disbelief.

"It doesn't seem like your size though… How about I measure you in the dressing room?"

Both paled, and Wes stammered a retort. "Just tell me how, and I'll do it."

The woman protested. "Men aren't allowed in the dressing rooms."

"He's gay."

The woman and Wes stared at him again. Wait, how did that make a difference?

"Wait, that still doesn't—"

"Please?" Ryan turned doe eyes on her. The woman wavered, clearly conflicted, and sighed.

"I swear…if I get fired…"

As they boarded the plane, Wes glanced over "Riley" one last time and sighed. "It saddens me that I won't be able to see you as a guy for a very long time."

Ryan grimaced. "It saddens you? It freaks me out."

Max grinned. "Would it help if I add that you make a ridiculously good-looking girl?"

"No. You're gay, remember?"