Raifu Suitchi 04

Chapter 4: Radio Ga Ga

As the clock struck a quarter to two on that fateful Saturday afternoon, Allen shook his head in disbelief at the unfamiliar reflection gazing back at him from the mirror. "Five minutes, Allen," announced Aiko from behind him, a gentle reminder that his performance was imminent. On the monitor overhead, a montage of his week's trials and tribulations unfolded, drawing reactions from the audience as they witnessed his reluctant journey through forced feminisation and gruelling dance training.

Upon catching a glimpse of himself clad in Sofia's clothes on the screen, Allen felt a blush creep up his cheeks, his flush barely concealed beneath the layers of stage makeup. He remembered that first morning vividly. Awakening in Sofia's apartment, bereft of his own clothes and belongings, disoriented and wary of violating the personal space surrounding him.

He had allocated two hours to ready himself before the scheduled pickup, yet he was woefully unprepared for the unfamiliar territory of a woman's morning routine. His morning began with a shower, the comforting warmth providing a slight reprieve for his sore muscles, though the floral scent of Sofia's body wash and shampoo left him smelling like a walking botanical greenhouse.

Toothbrushing posed another issue. Despite his initial hesitation at using Sofia's toothbrush, he reasoned it was akin to their shared kisses and managed to maintain his dental hygiene, a necessity given his history of cavities.

The most daunting task was choosing an outfit from Sofia's vast collection, mainly consisting of dresses, skirts, and heels. His size was relatively similar to hers, making the garments fit, yet the absence of familiar clothing posed a significant challenge. After what felt like an eternity rifling through Sofia's wardrobe, looking for anything even remotely masculine, he settled on an ensemble. The snug-fitting, shiny black pants were the closest to jeans he could find, and a lengthy black and white top - possibly a dress - concealed any unsightly bulges. Flat snow boots, a pair of socks, and a fluffy jacket with pockets sufficient for Sofia's keys and pink phone completed his outfit, rendering a handbag unnecessary.

Allen found himself transfixed by the monitor, his painted lips parting in a grimace. He wondered where he had mustered the courage to leave his apartment that day. The footage played on, a haunting echo of himself meandering through the labyrinthine backstreets of Tokyo with Aiko, bound for his costume fitting. The memory of his tight pants squeezing his legs, his coat closely embracing his form, and the surreal sensation of walking on what felt like cushions, still lingered.

(See image 10)

His mind echoed with the memories of the subtle humiliation that morning - Aiko coaching him to take minuscule, mincing steps and to sway his arms like a sissy. The ensuing spectacle drew curious stares from passers-by, adding to his unease. To the bystanders, the red-haired foreigner, prancing with calculated feminine poise, followed by a cameraman, seemed like an intriguing mystery, possibly a famous celebrity filming on location. The screen served as a window to his week-long journey, the discomfort and embarrassment of the recent past reflected back at him, magnifying his anxieties as he awaited his moment in the spotlight.

"Two minutes, Allen," Aiko chimed, extending her hand to assist him in rising.

Grasping her hand, Allen allowed himself to be hoisted onto his unnaturally angled feet. The discomfort that once felt alien was now all too familiar after an entire week of strutting around in towering heels. He cast a glance at the other contestants, each in varying stages of costume alteration. He'd seen most of their performances on the monitor overhead, stealing glances between his makeup and dress fittings. He was forced to concede that many were alarmingly good, resulting in an intimidatingly high score tally.

The scoring system was relatively straightforward. Post-performance, each member of the studio audience was given the responsibility of pressing a green button for a performance they appreciated and a red one for those they didn't, resulting in a potential two hundred points per couple at stake that night.

As he stood there, consumed by an almost paralysing bout of nerves and an intense fluttering in his stomach, Sofia was ushered back into the room by her aide. Her rendition of "I Want to Break Free" hadn't been well-received, the audience roaring with laughter as she stumbled through the performance.

“Tough crowd, huh?” Allen said, attempting to raise her spirits, simultaneously distracting himself from his looming stage debut.

“I’m sorry, Allen, I got so really nervous and forgot everything," Sofia vented, shifting uncomfortably and fiddling with the faux moustache adhered to her upper lip. " This whole outfit just feels wrong."

“Tell me about it,” Allen retorted, gesturing towards his flamboyant costume. “At least women sometimes dress like that. Men don't wear stuff like this. Look at this dress - it's so short and tight. And these heels? They’re ridiculous! I’ll be lucky if I don’t fall down the steps and break my neck.”

“If it's any consolation, I think you look surprisingly good. Definitely one of the most convincing men here,” Sofia offered, her face breaking into a smile for the first time in what felt like ages. "Just remember to take small steps, and you'll be fine."

Just then, Aiko emerged to their left. "Allen, it's time. Follow me."

"Good luck," Sofia called after him as he tottered off towards the door leading to the main stage.

Trembling, Allen stood tall in his towering platform boots, carefully brushing the long, golden strands of his wig from his face. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, broken only by Enzo's introductory speech. Suddenly, the sharp hiss of smoke machines on either side of him punctuated the silence, startling him as the double doors began to part. Through the opening, a boisterous audience awaited, and the first, tantalizing notes of the song filled the air.

Under the harsh glare of the spotlight, Allen emerged through the smoke. With hesitant strides, he navigated the first step and descended towards the crowd. As the song's lyrics swelled, he froze in stunned silence. A sea of Japanese faces smiling at him, their laughter echoing throughout the room.

Ra-ra-ah-ah-ah

Ro-ma-ro-ma-ma

Ga-ga, ooh-la-la

Want your bad romance

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Allen's heart pounded against his ribcage like a war drum as he painstakingly navigated the final steps. Struggling to lip-sync along with the lyrics, his mind was a whirlwind, frantically searching for the intricate choreography buried within. His movements lacked grace, an awkward dance of swaying and stomping, each footfall on the stage echoing the disjointed rhythm of his anxious heart.

The black and white leather mini dress clung tightly to his frame, its restrictive design making his movements appear even more clumsy. As he danced, black nylons slipped over his smooth legs, creating a tantalizing contrast. Despite the unsteady rhythm of his performance, Allen somehow managed to remain upright. His heavy ankle boots, with their chunky heels, added to the challenge, yet they didn't succeed in toppling him.

After enduring the longest, most mortifying three minutes of his life, Allen found himself centre stage, the audience howling with laughter as Enzo walked over to him, wrapping an arm around him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let's hear it for Lady Gaga," Enzo announced, prompting another wave of uproarious laughter. "Now, it's voting time, so please press your green or red button."

An hour later, all the contestants were summoned back to the stage. They lined up, anxious to hear their scores which had been withheld thus far. Tightly clasping Sofia's sweaty palm, Allen braced for the worst, fearing that after all the trials and tribulations of the week, they'd land in last place and face elimination.

"Welcome back to RAI-FU SU-IT-CHI, where our ten fabulous couples have performed as their favourite artists. What a show, right?" Enzo began, earning laughter from the audience. "And now, it's time for the results."

There was a drawn-out pause, underscored by suspenseful music, before the scores were gradually revealed on the large screen, from highest to lowest. Allen and Sofia watched nervously, anticipating their names to appear. Their score was near the bottom of the list. They had placed 9th, only two points above the bottom team. Relief washed over Sofia as she turned to Allen, pulling him into a tight hug. They had survived, or so they thought.

"Wow, tonight brought some excellent scores and performances, and congratulations to our leading teams," Enzo continued, "but not everyone can finish on top. Unfortunately, some teams didn't fare as well. However, all hope is not lost. The bottom three teams will have a chance at redemption as they battle it out during one last performance. Two teams will survive, and one will be eliminated! I hope our couples practised a second song."

The crowd erupted into cheers at this announcement, but Allen and Sofia could only stare at each other in disbelief. The jubilation they had just experienced was replaced with a deep sense of dread as they realized they would have to endure the same horrifying experience of performing once again.

Given two hours to consult with their mentors and change into a new costume, Allen was initially frozen in shock. Yet the sight of the top-performing team, Rin and Sakura, celebrating their resounding victory with 174 points - a considerable lead over the other teams - nudged him out of his stupor. Congratulating the couple, Allen sought their advice for his upcoming performance.

"Hi, I'm Allen," he started, extending a hand. "Congratulations on your first place. You guys were great out there."

"Thank you, Allen," a lean man named Rin responded, clothed in an outfit imitating Hyuna from the K-pop group Wonder Girls. Beside him, Sakura, adorned as a male K-pop star unknown to Allen, waved a greeting.

"Well, it Looks like I’m going to have to perform again. Any tips?" Allen asked, a hint of nervousness seeping into his voice.

Rin gave him a once-over before responding with a small smile, "Truthfully, it's about finding inner peace. To succeed, you need to remain calm, smile persistently, and execute your moves with flawless timing. But, looking at you, I doubt you have what it takes. You might want to consider bowing out now to spare yourself further embarrassment."

"Screw you," was Allen's curt reply as he spun on his heels, leaving the smug couple behind. The audacity of those two, he thought, fuming. Yet, their arrogance instilled a newfound determination in him. He was not just going to make it through the next performance; he was going to beat Rin and Sakura and put them in their place.

Now dressed in a black leather dress with huge, puffed shoulders, Allen stood backstage for the second time that night. The dress, while less constricting than his previous attire, gave him an oddly distorted silhouette. The high-shine black tights wrapped around his legs paired with sky-high platform pumps that contorted his feet into an agonizing position. Dancing in them would certainly pose a challenge.

The producers of the show aimed to make him look like a fool, yearning for the audience to ridicule him. But Allen was determined not to give them that satisfaction. He was not nervous anymore; he was completely focused, visualizing the sequence of his dance steps and reminding himself to maintain his smile throughout the performance.

As the smoke machine whirred to life again, surrounding him in a misty haze, he heard Enzo's voice introducing him. "Ladies and Gentlemen, possibly for the last time, please welcome on stage Allen Dolberg, performing Poker Face by Lady Gaga."

The door swung open to the sound of uproarious applause and the start of his music. There was a momentary pause as the crossdressed man scanned the studio audience before a broad smile spread across his painted face. With the grace of a seasoned runway model, Allen strutted down the staircase, swaying his hips with each step. He was joined on stage by his backup dancers, and together, they dove into the routine.

(See image 12)

As the clock neared 9 pm, the three contesting couples, embroiled in a fierce battle to remain in the competition, stood anxiously on stage. Sofia, dressed in a classic Freddie Mercury white vest, with a short black wig and a moustache, appeared visibly drained. Allen too was feeling the strain. His face felt uncomfortable under layers of makeup, subjected to the unrelenting heat of the studio lights and the incessant tickling of the feathery fake lashes glued to his eyelids. his padded bra was chafing against his chest, and the tight thong was proving to be more of a nuisance than he had anticipated. Suppressing a yawn, Allen felt his smooth, black-nylon-clad legs tremble under the unaccustomed strain of wearing sky-high heels for almost nine hours straight.

However, his confidence was notably higher this time around. The audience's response to his performance had been decidedly different. Teetering atop towering six-inch, patent black platform heels, every step was a delicate dance in itself, a precarious negotiation between him and the glossy heels. Each calculated stride challenged his stability and pushed his limits as he manoeuvred through the choreography, the heels threatening to slip off his feet at the slightest misstep.

His dress, as fierce as his determination, was a foe of its own. The rigid leather hindered his movements, moulding his body into a statue of faux femininity and rebellion against his normal physique. But Allen, persistent, learned to adapt his dance to the dress's constraints, incorporating the stiffness into his performance, bending the constraints to his advantage.

His blonde wig, a sea of flowing golden strands, danced a wild rhythm of its own. Each swirl and twirl sent it into a frenzy, strands cascading around his face, obstructing his view and challenging his concentration. But Allen was unyielding. He whipped the golden mane back with defiant head tosses, transforming what could have been a hindrance into an integral part of his riveting performance.

After he finished his song, a stunned silence descended upon the room, quickly replaced by a roaring cheer from the audience, devoid of any mockery. He had nailed every dance step, infusing each move with an appropriate dash of sass. His lip-syncing was spot-on, and he had managed to maintain his smile throughout the act. As he stood there, almost unrecognizable in his feminine guise, with legs tightly clasped together to keep them from shaking uncontrollably, he knew he couldn't have done anything more.

A wave of tension hung palpably in the air as the three couples stood separated, each illuminated by a single spotlight. The hushed silence only intensified as Enzo's voice carried through, elongating every word to build suspense. "Miki and Hiro," he began, his words dripping with anticipation, "Congratulations. With a combined total of 162 points, you move forward."

Allen and Sofia stared straight ahead, their faces a mask of uncertainty. A sinking feeling gnawed at their stomachs, the looming dread of elimination consuming them. The possibility of having humiliated themselves on national television for nothing was a weight they could hardly bear.

Enzo's voice sliced through the tension, "The remaining two couples, please move closer in." Without hesitation, Sofia grasped Allen's hand firmly, leading the way. Allen trailed behind, each stride hampered by his towering platform heels. Despite the elaborate cat-eye makeup, the humiliation was evident in his downcast gaze as he shuffled into position.

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Blinded by the glare of the spotlights, the silence that followed was almost unbearable. Then, with a dramatic pause that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Enzo finally declared, "Allen and Sofia, with a combined total of 159 points, you are through to the next round." Relief washed over Allen, transforming his dread into elation as Sofia threw her arms around him. They had made it.

"Regrettably, that means we say goodbye to Yuta and Misai tonight. With the lowest score, you've been eliminated," Enzo announced. The studio audience clapped and cheered, offering their support to the disheartened couple, costumed as Adele and John Lennon. "And a special round of applause for Allen Dolberg, ladies and gentlemen. His score of 98 was the highest of the evening. It felt as if Lady Gaga herself was here with us tonight." The crowd erupted into cheers, their enthusiastic whooping and hollering filling the studio.

Forcing a smile onto his glossy lips, Allen waved to the crowd. As the applause began to die down, Enzo resumed speaking, "The crowd seems to have found a new favourite. Now, let’s reveal next week's challenge."

Filming momentarily paused as the stage gradually filled with the other contestants. Once everyone was in place, the cameras sprung back to life, immediately followed by a video that started playing on the large screen. It featured clips of the contestants from their daily lives, with their friends and family talking about their roles and responsibilities. The footage jumped from one contestant to another, leaving Allen clueless about the nature of the upcoming challenge. As the video ended, the audience began speculating about what was in store for the contestants.

The excitement was palpable as Enzo revealed the theme for the next challenge. "That's right, ladies and gentlemen, we're entering the world of 'job SU-IT-CHI,'" he announced, the audience chiming in unison for the 'SU-IT-CHI' part. "Starting Monday, our couples will walk a week in each other's shoes, assuming the same responsibilities and tasks their partners handle in a typical week."

As the audience chuckled at Enzo's brain surgeon quip, he continued explaining the details of the challenge. "You might be wondering how we will judge this task. There are three parts. The first part, worth 100 points, will be judged based on how well contestants dress, behave, and perform in their new roles. This will be evaluated by their respective bosses for the week. The second part, also worth 100 points, will be a quiz testing the contestant's knowledge about their partner's life. So, pay attention, contestants, to everything. And finally, the last 100 points will be decided by you, the audience."

The crowd applauded the announcement, buzzing with anticipation for the upcoming week. Allen, however, found his mind racing, trying to recall Sofia's profession. Had he ever asked?

"That's all we have time for today," Enzo concluded. "We started the evening with ten couples, and now we're down to nine. Join us next week for another SU-IT-CHI, where one more underperforming couple will be sent home.