I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 43: Chapter 43

Lysander’s pov

I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror, my stomach twisting into a tight, agonizing knot of pure, unadulterated nausea.

Gideon stood leaning lazily against the doorframe of my bedroom, twirling his smartphone between his fingers with a sickening, triumphant smirk.

"You look absolutely stunning, little brother," he drawled, his tone dripping with condescending mockery. "The viewers are going to adore this."

I had been forced into a flowing, artfully tailored crimson silk gown with a plunging V-neckline, paired with a full face of soft makeup and a styled wig.

Gideon had hired a professional stylist under the pretenses of a high-fashion art project, ensuring every detail enhanced my naturally soft, androgynous features.

I looked like a gorgeous, striking woman in the glass and I hated every single second of the forced transformation.

I didn’t want to be a woman.

"Why are you doing this to me, Gideon?" I asked, my voice trembling violently as I reached up to adjust the heavy diamond earrings pulling at my lobes.

"You already destroyed my reputation on campus with that video," I whispered, turning around in the vanity chair to face him. "Is this really necessary?"

"Necessary? Absolutely not," he chuckled dark, pushing off the doorframe and walking slowly toward me across the hardwood floor.

"Cruel, degrading, and intensely entertaining? Beyond measure."

He leaned down, his long fingers wrapping around my jaw in a firm, unyielding grip to force me to look directly into his dark eyes.

"You’ve been relying on your sweet, innocent little cam-boy aesthetic for far too long," he sneered into my face.

"Tonight, we’re giving your little online followers a full gender-swap grand reveal. Let me see how much they love you when you aren’t playing the timid boy."

"They’ll hate it," I choked out, tears of frustration stinging the corners of my eyes as I tried to pull my chin out of his grasp.

"My audience follows me because of who I actually am, Gideon! They aren’t going to buy this!"

"Then they’ll leave you broke, disgraced, and completely reliant on my goodwill," Gideon replied smoothly, releasing my jaw with a harsh flick of his wrist.

He walked over to the desk setup, tapping the screen of his phone to sync up the external high-definition camera and ring light he had assembled earlier.

He positioned the camera directly in front of the vanity, capturing my entire crimson-clad frame in clear, high-definition resolution.

"Smile for the camera, Lysander," he instructed coldly, stepping out of the lens’s field of view while keeping his phone ready to monitor the live feed.

"If you break character, attempt to shut off the stream, or try to run out of this room, I’ll send the raw video files directly to Darius and Elena before you reach the stairs."

My blood ran completely cold at the threat, my hands trembling violently as I smoothed down the slippery silk fabric over my lap.

The digital timer on his broadcast app ticked down to zero, and the live status indicator on the monitor flipped from grey offline to bright red: LIVE.

Within seconds, the viewer counter began ticking up rapidly one hundred, five hundred, two thousand, five thousand viewers flooding into the room.

"Is that Lysander? What is he wearing?" the very first comment flashed across the live feed chat box.

"Wait, why is he dressed like a girl?" another comment popped up, immediately followed by a barrage of confused and mockingly shocked emojis.

"H-Hello, everyone," I stammered out, forcing a stiff, unnatural smile onto my face as my heart hammered violently against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"Tonight... I wanted to try something a little different for the channel. A... a full glamour transformational look."

Behind the bright halo of the ring light, Gideon gestured sharply with his hand, his mouth forming the silent words: Keep talking.

I cleared my hoarse throat, trying desperately to talk through the thick makeup, the tight dress, and the suffocating feeling of total public embarrassment.

I forced myself to talk through the gown’s design, demonstrating the delicate lace details and the styling just as Gideon had carefully scripted for me to recite.

But as the seconds dragged into minutes, the live chat didn’t react with the awe, lust, or admiration Gideon had arrogant expected.

The toxic, ruthless side of the internet instantly took over the room, and the chat turned into a vicious flood of mockery, hate, and total disgust.

"This is weird as hell. Bring back the real Lysander!"

"Is this a joke? He looks ridiculous trying to play a woman."

"Unfollowing right now. This is pure cringe."

"Why would he ruin his brand like this? He looks terrible, wtf."

The viewer count began dropping drastically, hundreds of people exiting the stream every single second as negative comments flooded the display.

My cheeks burned with intense, unadulterated shame, my hands tightening on the polished wood of the vanity desk until my knuckles turned completely white.

"P-Please," I whispered under my breath, my desperate, tear-filled eyes darting toward Gideon standing in the dark shadows behind the camera light.

Gideon’s triumphant smile had completely vanished, replaced by a dark, furious scowl as he watched his grand scheme backfire into pure internet rejection.

He hadn’t intended for the audience to reject the spectacle, he wanted them to obsess over it so he could use their desire to hold it over my head forever.

Instead, the internet was thoroughly rejecting the forced persona, turning his carefully planned humiliation into a painful, embarrassing disaster for both of us.

"Total flop. He’s clearly being forced or trying way too hard for clout."

"Ratio’d. Turn the stream off, this is painful to watch."

"Looks like your little fans don’t appreciate the effort," he growled low, stepping forward aggressively and hitting the red button to cut the feed.

The camera light shut off instantly, plunging the room back into the warm, dim glow of my bedroom lamps as the live counter plummeted to zero.

I collapsed forward against the vanity desk, burying my makeup-streaked face in my hands as heavy, uncontrollable sobs racked my fragile frame.

The public rejection and humiliation were overwhelming, every single harsh comment echoing inside my head over and over again in a toxic loop.

Gideon stood over me, watching me cry with a bitter, dangerous expression creeping across his sharp features as he took in my trembling form.

"They didn’t like seeing you as a woman online," Gideon whispered darkly, reaching out to grip a soft lock of my styled blonde wig.

"Which is a damn shame... because I actually find it quite fascinating on you."

He leaned down close to my ear, his hot breath fanning across my cold skin, sending a violent shiver down my spine.

"Since the internet didn’t appreciate the view, I think I’ll keep this look reserved exclusively for my own private viewing."

"N-No... please," I sobbed out, pulling my face away from his touch in absolute terror as fresh tears ruined the mascara around my eyes.

"Oh yes, Lysander," he smirked, his dark eyes glittering with an entirely new, terrifying idea as he looked down at the crimson satin dress.

"I have a socialite party to attend tonight, and you’re coming with me just like this. We’re going to take this little dress-up game much further."

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