With the usual tacky decorations hung and the artificial tree dragged out from under the stairs, Christmas was fast approaching. But this year was going to be radically different from anything Liam had ever experienced.

Instead of hiding out in his room playing online games, he would be working around the clock in a pub that barely closed. Instead of lounging in sweatpants and a hoodie, he would be pulling pints and clearing glasses in skimpy holiday-themed outfits and crippling shoes.

No one would see Liam this Christmas, but he would be there as Tiff, his uncle’s ditzy blonde fiancée. It was a role he was getting better at playing day by day, week by week. Fear was a hell of a motivator.

Fear of Ronnie "The Razor" Davies and his pigs. Fear of Ronnie’s wife, Sharon, and her frustrating habit of turning up at the worst possible moments. Fear of Uncle Gaz discovering who he really was. And now, the newest fear: his mum coming over for Christmas drinks to meet her brother’s new fiancée, only to discover it was actually her son.

They had stalled the introduction for as long as possible, buying Liam just enough time to physically heal from Hannah’s insane plan—a plan that involved letting Mei reorganise his features in ways that still haunted him. He had no name for the techniques she used, only a lingering, sickening worry that none of it could be reversed.

Mei began by altering his overall facial profile. She injected dermal fillers into his cheeks and chin to create bulk and used a harsh deoxycholic acid compound along his jawline to slim it by dissolving the natural fatty tissue. She also hit his lips with another syringe of filler to ensure an impossibly swollen pout.

But Mei wasn’t finished there. To make the disguise good enough to fool his own mother, she brought out the big guns.

After numbing his entire face, she drove hollow needles under his skin—from the hairline down to his jaw, beneath his eyebrows, and straight down the bridge of his nose. She threaded barbed, black-market polydioxanone (PDO) through the tissue, and with a few brutal tugs, winched the facial tissue upward. The result mimicked a surgical facelift, permanently altering the resting position of his eyebrows while pulling his eyes into an extreme "fox eye" slant and his nasal bridge into a more pronounced slope.

To further disguise his T-zone, Mei jammed internal nasal splints—small, curved pieces of rigid plastic—deep inside his nostrils. Costing only pennies, they physically propped up the nasal cartilage. Combined with the PDO threads, the adjustment slightly narrowed the nostrils and forced a minor upturn, fundamentally changing the shadow his nose cast.

Finally, Mei applied "boil-and-bite" veneers. The cheap acrylic resin caps were moulded directly over his natural teeth, changing their size and shape while introducing an unnatural, extreme whiteness. The bulk of the resin forced a slight overbite, permanently altering the physical mechanics of his smile and dictating exactly how his heavily overfilled lips rested against his new teeth.

The physical toll of the transformation had left Liam lying in bed for the better part of the last week. The bruising was heavy, and even with painkillers, his face throbbed and burned relentlessly as it settled into its new architecture. But after a few days of rest, his skin fused to the barbs and the worst of the swelling subsided.

When Uncle Gaz first saw the results of Mei’s handiwork, his stunned reaction told Liam everything he needed to know. As terrifying as it was to have willingly reconstructed his own face beyond recognition, he was at least mildly confident the plan was going to work.

That confidence evaporated the moment he teetered in six-inch heeled boots outside the house he had lived in his entire life, waiting at the front door like a stranger. The biting chill cut straight through his sheer black tights, forcing every muscle in his body to tense. As he reached out to press the buzzer with a freshly manicured, bright red acrylic nail, his hand trembled so violently he had to grip his own wrist to steady it.

Almost immediately, the door swung open. Hannah stood on the threshold, looked him up and down, and smiled.

"Tiff! Babe! Come on in, get yourself out of that cold," she gushed, her voice intentionally loud.

Her brother stepped inside, his heels striking the old floorboards with a sharp, echoing clack. Hannah closed the door behind him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "They’re in the living room. You've got this."

Liam nodded slowly and slipped his coat off his shoulders, revealing a sleeveless, forest green velvet minidress with a plunging neckline that left his inflated chest on full display.

"Oh, I absolutely love that dress on you! So festive. Where did you get it?" Hannah said, seizing his warm winter coat to hang on the rack.

“Temu. They have some great deals right now,” Liam answered in the most confident and feminine voice he could muster. He started to suggest she look for herself, but the words died in his throat the moment he caught his reflection in the hallway mirror.

Framed by loose platinum curls and massive silver hoops, the face in the glass wasn't his. He was staring at a stranger with a slim, heart-shaped face tapering to a pointed chin. The cheeks were unnaturally plump, the lips even plumper and glossy red. High, arching eyebrows sat pulled tight above cat-like eyes, buried under layers of meticulous makeup and huge, extended lashes.

His blue eyes—the only part of him he still recognised—widened, and a cold shiver shook his curvy frame as the sheer, terrifying reality of what he was about to do settled in.

Before panic could fully set in, Hannah stepped between him and the mirror. Her long, manicured fingers curled around his. "You can do this," she whispered, tugging him lightly to get him moving.

His heeled feet carried him down the hall, each step an agonizing countdown, until the living room opened up around him. Almost instantly, Hannah mumbled an excuse about checking on something upstairs, leaving Liam to play his part.

Through his fan-like lashes, Liam’s eyes darted briefly to Uncle Gaz, who was grinning from a worn armchair by the tree, before settling on the blonde in the matching chair beside him.

Sitting in her old spot, wearing a leopard-print top, a denim skirt, and patterned black tights, was his mum. A lit cigarette balanced casually between her fingers against the armrest, just like she had never left. She took a slow drag, her heavily made-up eyes scanning her son’s feminized body from head to toe. There was zero recognition in her stare—only a piercing mix of wariness and intrigue.

Liam held his breath, struggling to fully close his balloon-like lips over the bulky resin of his blindingly white veneers, locked in a staring contest with his mother until Gary leapt to his feet. "Baby!" he called out, closing the distance between them in a few quick strides. He wrapped a strong arm around Liam’s waist, pulled him in tight, and planted a firm, wet kiss directly onto his over-injected lips.

"Mandy, this is my gorgeous fiancée, Tiff," Gary announced proudly, turning Liam slightly so they were facing her. "Tiff, babe, this is my sister, Mandy."

Mandy let out a slow ribbon of smoke, her eyes performing a lazy, calculating sweep. "Alright, Tiff. Nice to finally meet you."

"You too," Liam managed, pitching his voice into a breathless, practiced lilt as the sheer surrealism of the exchange threatened to snap his fragile composure.

He was a teenage boy standing in his own living room, making polite small talk with his estranged mother, yet she was treating him like an absolute stranger. They were both tarted up to the nines, with nylon-clad legs and heavy makeup, but somehow Liam was the tartier of the two. His hair was longer and blonder, his boots were significantly higher, and his hemline was much shorter. To be standing there scrutinized by his own mother not as her forgotten son, but as her brother's flashy, hyper-feminine new toy, was a sickening, out-of-body experience.

"Come on, take a load off. Relax," Gary insisted, his hand sliding possessively down Liam's hip.

He steered Liam backward toward the beige floral sofa. Liam let himself be guided, sinking into the worn cushions as his uncle dropped clumsily beside him. Ready to put on a show for his sister, Gary pulled Liam close, wrapping his right arm securely around Liam's shoulders and placing the other squarely on the sheer black nylon of Liam's knee.

Driven purely by a terrifying survival instinct, Liam leaned into the embrace, lifting one leg over Gary’s while placing his manicured hand delicately against his uncle’s chest. All he could think was, 'I can’t let her know it’s me.' To sell the lie, he was determined to follow Hannah’s advice and act as ditzy as possible.

Mandy watched the cozy display from her chair, taking another slow drag of her cigarette. “So,” she said, her gaze drifting from his heavily contoured face down to the perfect, perky breasts framed by the plunging V of his velvet dress. “Where exactly did you two meet, Tiff?”

Liam forced a bubbly, vacuous giggle, tapping his long acrylics against his uncle’s chest. “Oh, at the pub! Where I work.”

Mandy’s eyebrows arched, and her face wrinkled. She tapped her ash into the tray without breaking eye contact. “The pub! And you’re engaged already?” She shifted her sharp gaze to Gary. “Didn’t you just get out of prison, like, ten minutes ago?”

Liam’s stomach dropped. He hadn't been in the room two minutes and he'd already messed up.

“Oh my god, no! I mean, yes, we met in person for the first time at the pub,” Liam babbled, cranking his pitch to a breathy squeak and twirling a strand of platinum hair around a long red nail. “But we totally found each other online, like, ages ago. We were messaging for years while he was... inside. We just, like, fell in love through the screen, you know?”

Mandy’s head twisted to the side, her cigarette hovering inches from her lips. “Is that right? How old are you, Tiff?”

“Nineteen,” Liam said, batting his massive, heavy lashes innocently.

Mandy slowly turned her piercing stare to her brother. “Years, Gaz?” she repeated, her voice dropping to an icy tone.

Gary swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well... she's nineteen now, ain't she?”

Mandy snorted, finally taking another drag. “Right. So what app did you use to find my brother? Tinder for convicts?”

“No, just Facebook!” Liam giggled, leaning further into Gary while batting his long lashes. “I wasn’t sure at first, but he had proper good energy. We just clicked.”

“Good energy,” Mandy deadpanned. “What exactly did you two talk about for 'years'?”

“Mostly astrology!” Liam gushed, widening his blue eyes and bouncing his knee slightly. “He’s such a typical Scorpio, dead mysterious and guarded, but I’m a Gemini, so I proper brought him out of his shell.”

Gary looked completely bewildered but gave a stiff, agreeable nod.

“Is that right?” Mandy said flatly, stubbing out her cigarette. “And what does a nineteen-year-old Gemini want from life, besides pulling pints and marrying an ex-con?”

“I'm gonna be an influencer,” Liam said, throwing a hand up with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “You know? Beauty tutorials, lip-syncs, the lot. The pub is just for now, until I get sponsored. Makeup is dead expensive, you know?”

Mandy stared at her disguised son, her expression a mix of utter disbelief and deep judgment. “Right. So, you know what he was inside for, then? Did your 'Scorpio' mention that?”

“Of course,” Liam waved his hand dismissively. “He had a bit of a scrap in a pub or summat. You’re a changed man now. Aren't ya, babe?” Liam babbled, resting his head on Gary's shoulder.

“A bit of a scrap!” Mandy replied flatly. “He nearly took a man's eye out with a pool cue.”

“Oh my god,” Liam gasped, covering his glossy lips with his manicured hand. “I know, right? Pool can be proper lethal! I literally snapped a nail off once just leaning over a table.”

Mandy stared in stunned silence, completely disarmed by the sheer stupidity of the answer, before softly chuckling. “Well,” she muttered, brushing a speck of ash off her denim skirt. “You're both adults, I guess. If this is what you want, then who am I to judge? You’ve got my blessing as long as I'm invited to the hen do. I love a good piss-up, especially if there’s a costume involved.”

The words hit Liam like a brick. Him as the bride at a bachelorette party with his mother!

“Oh,” Liam stammered, the bubbly mask slipping for a fraction of a second. "Yeah, of course. I’ll... I’ll let you know when we sort a date.”

Mandy stood up, smoothing down her leopard-print top. “Speaking of drinks, why don’t we head down the pub? First round’s on me to celebrate your engagement. Just let me nip to the loo first.”

“Sounds good, Mand,” Gary said as he gave her an exaggerated nod.

The moment her footsteps disappeared from the hall and the bathroom door clicked shut, the doting fiancée act instantly died. Liam shoved his uncle’s hand off his nylon-clad knee and slid across the sofa.

“You could have been a bit more helpful there!” Liam hissed. “Rather than just sitting there groping my leg, you hardly said a bloody word! And why did you agree to the pub?”

Gary threw his hands up in defence. “What was I supposed to say? Could've told her no yourself, couldn't ya?”

Liam folded his arms tight against his chest, narrowing his heavily lashed eyes into a furious glare. “Well, I’m not going. Make summat up.”

Gary chuckled. “What, me? Refuse a pint? We’re supposed to be keeping our heads down, not raisin’ suspicion.” He paused, a glint appearing in his eye. “Tell you what, though... if you really want rid of her, I know a guaranteed way.”

Liam’s head whipped around. “Oh yeah? What’s that then?”

===================

“So, are you two ready to—” The words died in Mandy's throat as she stepped into the living room.

Her face twisted in sheer disgust. Gary’s young bride-to-be was straddling his lap with her skirt riding indecently high over her pantyhosed backside. Gary’s hands were busy wandering up and down the girl's slender back as the pair shamelessly made out on the sofa.

She waited a solid five seconds for them to break apart. They didn't.

Mandy cleared her throat, loud and echoing. “Hello?” she barked.

Nothing!

She threw her hands up in an exasperated sigh. “Well, when you’re finished, you know where to find me.” She grabbed her coat and swiftly marched towards the front door, eager to escape the sudden awkwardness.