"This is just a sick joke! I'm not your bride, this can't be real!" Quentin's voice was laced with denial and fear, far from the meek and obedient persona Craig expected.
Craig, with his usual arrogance, sneered condescendingly. "A joke? This is our engagement! What's wrong with you?! You're always so docile and submissive, Shorty. It's unlike you to be so defiant. You should know your place."
At this moment Quentin has some new sensations, looking at the dissatisfied Craig. And it was a feeling of guilt, although Quentin was not fully aware of it. "This is insane! I'm not gay... I can't possibly be in love with you!" His voice trembled, betraying his inner turmoil
Craig's voice dripped with cynicism. "Gay? Don't be absurd, Shorty. You're marrying a man, after all. Therefore you should be gentle and obedient, just as you've always been, stop this circus"
"I'm not Shorty, I'm..." Quentin faltered, his own voice seemed alien to him and for the first time in his life he felt insecure, "I'm Shorty." He tried again, his voice filled with panic, "No, I'm... Shorty." He wanted to scream that he was a school athlete, but instead, he whispered, "I'm... the bride." Quentin said with despair then that he was afraid to say this to Craig. This angry Quentin, he felt himself becoming more submissive, a feeling of love for Craig emerging, despite its craziness and wrongness.
Craig's eyes sparkled with cruel amusement. "That's right, Shorty. You're the bride" Once again hearing his new name, Craig shuddered, remembering how he called Mark that name. Before Quentin could think it over, Craig's lips crashed against him in a domineering kiss. Quentin wanted to resist, to push away, but his new form betrayed him, weak and unresponsive to his mental commands.
...
After the kiss ended, Craig's lips curled into a grin as he nonchalantly plopped down on the nearest sofa, his eyes still fixed on Shorty. "There you are, Shorty, just as you always should be," he said with a smug satisfaction. In that moment, Shorty felt an unexpected and disturbing feeling of enjoyment under his gaze, a sensation that left her deeply unsettled.
The kiss had been repulsive to her; she didn't like guys, didn't want to be a girl. The feel of the bra constricting her, the long hair cascading down her shoulders, the short skirt - all of it infuriated her. Crossing her arms at her waist, naively believing that this would give her a menacing look, she looked at her groom, feeling all this chaos in her head, realizing that she wanted to please this man who was happy to see his bride submissive