Crestwood Academy for Young Ladies - Forced Fem Fantasy

Chapter Thirty: Routines and Routines

Dylan kept his arms tight to his sides, trying to stay warm against the cool evening breeze as he walked back toward the dorms from the dining hall. Dinner had been uneventful, but as usual, Aaron, Kyle, and Marcus had provided enough banter to keep things interesting. Sophie and Hannah had joined them, and it almost felt like things were normal—until Hannah unintentionally reminded him what awaited him.

"So, what do you guys wanna do when we get back?" Hannah asked as they approached the dorm building. "We could play cards in the common area."

Dylan glanced at her and shook his head. "I'd love to, but I have to start memorizing the routine and lyrics for that talent show b.s."

Aaron snickered, raising an eyebrow. "Wait, does that mean you're the lead?"

Dylan rolled his eyes, half-expecting this reaction. "Yeah... apparently. It's because I'm the tallest so I have to be in the middle."

Kyle and Marcus both started laughing, clearly amused by the situation. "That's hilarious," Marcus said. "You're really going to be Beyoncé?"

Dylan let out an exasperated sigh, though he couldn't help but smile at how ridiculous it all sounded. "The other girls are so excited about it that it's not even really a dare to them. They're like, 'This is gonna be amazing!' and I'm just sitting there, pretending to be excited too."

Sophie raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. "Pretending, huh? Maybe you're not really pretending, Dylan."

"Very funny," Dylan said, giving her a playful nudge as they approached the front doors of the dorm building.

Aaron wasn't done yet, though. "You've gotta let us watch at least one rehearsal. Come on, man, it'd be the highlight of the week."

Dylan quickly shook his head, grinning at the thought of Aaron and the others watching him try to pull off Beyoncé's moves. "No way. You don't want to spoil the show before the big night, right?"

"Come on," Aaron pressed. "Just one sneak peek."

Dylan turned the tables, pushing Aaron's hair over his shoulder. "Why don't you go braid your hair with Sophie and Hannah instead?"

The group laughed as Aaron swatted Dylan's hands away. "Alright, alright! But don't think this conversation is over."

"See you guys later," Dylan said, shaking his head as he slipped into his room. Finally, he was alone, and the weight of what he had to do settled in. He pulled out his phone and hesitated for a moment before pulling up the "Single Ladies" music video on YouTube. The last time he'd seen this video, he'd probably been eight years old.

As the opening beats of the song started, he watched Beyoncé strut and spin effortlessly in those iconic heels, her movements sharp and flawless. Dylan blinked, already feeling a sense of doom creeping in. How am I supposed to pull that off? Even if he somehow managed to memorize all the lyrics and learn the choreography, there was no way he could do it in those massive heels.

He sighed, pausing the video after watching it through once. This was going to be a disaster. He could feel it.

Switching to a tutorial video that Kayla had sent in the group chat, Dylan propped his phone up against the wall and watched the instructor break down the steps. It looked easy when they did it. He tried to follow along, mimicking the moves in his small dorm room. The first few attempts were clumsy at best—he could barely keep up with the pace, let alone nail the sharpness of each move.

An hour and a half later, drenched in sweat and feeling utterly exhausted, Dylan collapsed onto his bed. He'd made some progress, sure, but it was still a long way from where he needed to be. The routine was complicated, and the thought of performing it in front of the whole school still made him cringe. But for now, he'd reached his limit.

Switching gears, he pulled up the lyrics to the song on his phone. He'd be hearing them over and over while practicing the dance anyway, but he figured he might as well get a head start on memorizing them. He grabbed a spare notebook from his desk drawer and started writing the lyrics down by hand: All the single ladies, all the single ladies...

He wrote them out repeatedly, copying them from his phone until he could do it from memory. His first attempt without looking wasn't terrible—he got about 65% of the lyrics right. After a few more tries, he managed to get up to about 82% correct. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress. As he flipped through the pages of his notebook, a thought crossed his mind: If only I put this much effort into that geography test.

After what felt like a solid attempt at both the choreography and lyrics, Dylan decided to call it a night. He put away his notebook and headed down the hall to the bathroom for his shower and nightly routine. When he entered, he found Kyle already there, going through the same routine.

"How'd practice go?" Kyle asked, glancing at Dylan as he brushed his teeth.

Dylan groaned. "I'll show you," he said, before awkwardly attempting the first few moves from the dance. His coordination was all over the place, and he nearly tripped over his own feet, sending both of them into fits of laughter.

Kyle chuckled as he rinsed his mouth. "You're killing it, man. Totally got it down."

"Right," Dylan said, grinning as he shook his head. "It's a total mess. Oh, by the way, has Beaumont told you about the modeling thing yet?"

Kyle frowned slightly, confused. "Yeah... how'd you know about that?"

"I'm stuck doing it too," Dylan explained with a sigh. "Guess it's just my luck this week."

Kyle shook his head sympathetically. "Man, that sucks. I feel for you. When are you supposed to meet with your student for the show?"

Dylan blinked, realizing he'd completely forgotten to ask Beaumont for details. "I forgot to ask," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Do you know when your meeting is?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, I'm supposed to meet with her Friday morning before class. It's in the Garment and Apparel classroom."

"Thanks," Dylan said, making a mental note to check in with Beaumont tomorrow. "I'll probably ask Beaumont tomorrow, just to be sure."

With that, Dylan grabbed his things and hopped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the stress of the day. As he began his nighttime routine, shaving, moisturizing, conditioning his hair—things he never thought he'd get so used to—he couldn't help but reflect on how insane this week had already been... and it was only Tuesday.

Dylan sighed, drying his hair with the blow dryer before heading back to his room. Tomorrow was another day, and with everything on his plate, he was going to need all the rest he could get.