Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
55: The Makeover Travesty
Coming of Age Sex Story: 55: The Makeover Travesty - Bharath always thought going to America would mean fast love, wild parties, and maybe a stewardess or two. What he got instead? A busted duffel bag, a crying baby on the plane, and dormmates he never thought could exist in real life. Thrown into the chaos of Georgia Tech’s freshman year, Bharath begins an unforgettable journey of awkward first crushes and culture shocks. A slow-burn, emotionally rich harem romance set in the nostalgic 90s - full of laughter, lust, and longing.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Fiction Humor School Sharing Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory White Female Hispanic Female Indian Female
The guys were huddled on a bench just outside the campus store, sulking like exiled princes. Ravi had both hands on his head, horrified. Jorge was shaking his head slowly, eyes wide with the disbelief of a man who had seen too much. Tyrel leaned back against the wall, chewing on a toothpick like the only sane one left.
“Fifteen dollars?” Ravi repeated for the third time. “Fifteen! Bhai what the hell? And then you tipped him another five?!”
Bharath pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t tip him, he ... he added it. He literally just wrote it on the bill himself.”
“Brother,” Jorge said solemnly, “for twenty dollars in La Paz, my entire family: father, brothers, cousins: everyone could get haircuts, hot towel, massage, shave, beard oil. And they sing to you while they do it.”
Tyrel chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, y’all act like it’s robbery. It’s Atlanta. Fifteen bucks for lookin’ fly? That’s normal dawg.”
Ravi nearly exploded. “Normal?! In Delhi, fifteen dollars gets you a haircut, shave, a full body massage, chai, and lunch for your barber’s entire family. Here you got a shoulder squeeze and heartbreak!”
That set Jorge off laughing so hard he nearly slid off the bench. “Shoulder squeeze and heartbreak! Sí, hermano, that’s exactly it!”
Bharath groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Why am I telling you idiots this story?”
“Because,” Jorge smirked, “we asked and we’re here and you can’t deny it. And because it is hilarious.”
Tyrel grinned. “Yeah, man. You gotta run it back from the top. Raul’s shoulder rub. That’s the good part.”
Ravi nodded eagerly. “Yes. Start with Raul. Tell us how he seduced you.”
Bharath shot them all a dark look. “Fine. But I hope you choke on your laughter.”
He leaned back, recounting it like a war veteran reliving the battle.
“I took that flyer in guys. You know the one for five dollars. The one in big letters they gave us last week. It clearly said student cut for $5. I thought, okay, this is safe. I just need a trim, right?”
The boys leaned in.
“Then this barber walks up. This Raul. I thought it was a weird name for a barber. I mean who has a name like Raul in Atlanta?”
Jorge made the sign of the cross. “Already suspicious.”
“That’s what I thought!” Bharath jabbed a finger in the air. “He didn’t even look like a Raul! He had perfect skin, perfect hair, moving his wrists like he was conducting an orchestra. First thing he does-”
Bharath mimed a squeeze at his own shoulders shuddering. “He starts kneading me. Like dough! He says, ‘Oh, such nice muscles.’”
Jorge slapped his knee, cackling. Ravi doubled over. Tyrel whistled low.
“Oh nooo, bhai,” Ravi gasped. “Not dough!”
Tyrel and Jorge were slapping each others’ back like a drum. Bharath glared at them with his nastiest look but that only made them laugh louder.
“I was frozen!” Bharath snapped. “Like a deer in headlights! He keeps rubbing and says, ‘Mmm, you got a swimmer’s body papi ... are you maybe a model.’ Model! He asked if I was a model guys!”
Jorge fell backwards against the bench, howling. “Brother, Raul was in love with you.”
“I didn’t even know where to look!” Bharath cried. “Then he leans down, right at my ear, and whispers... ‘Have you ever tried ... a facial?’”
The boys lost it. Tyrel actually fell sideways, clutching his stomach. Ravi wheezed, “This ... this is better than Bollywood!”
“Did you run?” Jorge demanded through tears.
“I tried!” Bharath threw his hands up. “I said no! Normal cut! Just hair! I just want the $5 student special. And then he starts talking about eyebrow tidy and highlights-”
“Eyebrow tidy?!” Ravi shrieked. “What even is that?!”
“I don’t know!” Bharath hissed. “I thought he wanted to pluck me like a chicken!”
By now, all three were clutching each other, barely breathing. People passing by gave them strange looks.
“And just when I thought I was going to die,” Bharath said darkly, “Camila walked in.”
The boys froze, sobered instantly.
“Oh no,” Jorge whispered.
“Yea. Oh no.” Bharath’s voice dropped, haunted. “Raul abandons me, runs to her, kisses her cheeks, starts rapid-fire Spanish. I’m sitting there in the cape, feeling like a hostage. I catch a few words-guapo, novio, estilo. And I’m proud for a second, because I understood. Guapo means handsome. Estilo means style. I think-okay, I’m learning Spanish.”
The boys stared, grins creeping back.
“And then,” Bharath groaned, “they both turn and look at me with the same smile. You know the smile. The one that means doom.”
Ravi covered his mouth. “She sold you out.”
“Completely! Camila tells me maybe I want a tiny adjustment, a style change. I look to Jorge for help-”
Jorge spread his hands innocently. “And I said, ‘Brother, you are in God’s hands now.’”
Bharath pointed at him like he’d been stabbed. “Traitor! You abandoned me!”
Jorge grinned. “I regret nothing.”
Bharath rubbed his face. “Anyway. Raul clapped like a seal, Camila snapped her fingers, and next thing I know he’s snipping and fluffing like I’m auditioning for a boy band. And when it’s done...”
He gestured to his hair, which did in fact look sharp and stylish. “ ... I admit. It was good. But then-”
Ravi jumped in. “The bill.”
“The bill,” Bharath groaned. “Fifteen freaking dollars. And then the tip. Twenty total. I wanted to protest but Camila gave me the look. You know that weird one.”
Jorge shuddered a little but joined in the laughter as the other boys broke into raucous laughter.
“You know what that is?” Ravi said between gasps. “That is two weeks of samosas!”
“Brother,” Jorge wheezed, “for twenty dollars in La Paz they shave your dog too!”
“Even Tyrel was shocked!” Bharath yelled, pointing.
Tyrel raised his hands defensively, still laughing. “Look, man, I said it was normal at first. But adding his own tip? Nah, that’s foul. Even I wouldn’t stand for that.”
“Raul winked at me!” Bharath groaned. “He actually winked. Like we had a moment! Jorge said he was swooning!”
Jorge nodded solemnly. “He was. I have never seen a barber swoon before. It was beautiful.”
Ravi threw his head back, howling. “Our Bharath! Ricky Martin’s twin!”
Bharath slumped on the bench, defeated, while the boys kept laughing at his expense.
Inside the store, they could hear the girls squealing over T-shirts.
“What about this one!” LaTasha’s voice rang.
“No, Sarah and Mari wanted it to be tighter!” Camila insisted.
“Red looks better!” Nandita countered.
Bharath groaned again. “They’re not going to let me walk out alive.”
Ravi leaned back, wiping tears. “At least your hair looks good for your funeral.”
Jorge clapped him on the shoulder. “Brother, this was fate. Tonight, you will shine. All thanks to Raul.”
“Don’t ever say his name again,” Bharath muttered.
The boys collapsed in fresh laughter as the fitting room door creaked open and Camila’s voice sang out, “Bharath, show us your new look!”
And Bharath knew he was doomed.
The three boys were still snickering when the fitting room curtain snapped open. Camila’s head popped out, her eyes glinting like a general about to send troops into battle.
“Bharath,” she crooned. “Your turn.”
Bharath stiffened on the bench. “No.”
“Yes,” Nandita said firmly, already holding a hanger with a black fitted tee that looked two sizes too small. “Up. Now.”
“No way,” Bharath said, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. I don’t need anyone to choose my clothes. I’ve been dressing myself for eighteen years.”
“That’s the problem,” LaTasha muttered under her breath, tugging another pair of jeans off the rack.
The boys perked up, emboldened by Bharath’s rare stand.
“Yeah!” Ravi declared, thrusting a finger toward the girls. “He is a man! He has agency! He does not need-”
Nandita’s eyes flicked over at him. Just once.
Ravi coughed, swallowed his revolution whole, and shrank back on the bench. “-to wear, uh, whatever you say, baby.”
Jorge smirked. “You lasted six seconds, hermano. Impressive.”
“Shut up,” Ravi muttered.
Bharath tried to rally. “Look, I appreciate the help, but really-”
Camila snapped her fingers. “Inside. Now.”
The sound was like a gunshot. Bharath flinched. Against his will, his legs carried him toward the fitting room like a condemned man walking to the gallows.
Tyrel chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, you already lost. Might as well lean in.”
“Traitors, all of you, ” Bharath muttered as Camila shoved the first outfit into his arms.
The curtain swished. Bharath emerged in the black fitted T-shirt and slim jeans. The cotton clung to him like it had been painted on. His shoulders and chest stretched the fabric until it looked ready to burst.
The reaction was immediate.
LaTasha wolf-whistled. Camila clapped. Nandita actually fanned herself with a price tag.
The boys, of course, pounced.
“Look at this guy!” Ravi crowed. “Bollywood Ken doll! Where’s the box?”
“Flex those muscles, hermano!” Jorge added, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Show us your swimmer shoulders!”
Tyrel grinned, deep-voiced: “Okay, okay, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the runway-model number one, straight outta Chennai, makin’ all y’all weak.”
Bharath’s ears burned crimson. “Shut up!”
“Oh, don’t shut up,” Camila purred, circling him like a hawk. She tugged at the hem of the shirt, smoothing it over his torso, then tapped his bicep. “See? Perfect. He looks fine as hell.”
Bharath squeaked. Did she just say fine as hell?
“Spin,” LaTasha ordered.
“No.”
“Spin,” she repeated.
And somehow, chagrined, Bharath spun.
The girls applauded. The boys howled.
A passing group of students slowed to look.
Nandita tapped her feet while handing him over pants that looked like a tent. Camila shoved him while he was protesting back into the fitting room. A few minutes later he emerged in khaki cargo pants so baggy they could have fit a family of four.
The store erupted in laughter.
“Yo, what is this?” Tyrel snorted. “Hammer Time?”
“Bro, my grandfather wears those when he gardens,” Ravi wheezed.
“Sí, sí, you look like you’re about to sell encyclopedias door-to-door,” Jorge added.
Camila shook her head in disgust. “No. Burn it.”
“I told you!” Bharath shouted, throwing up his hands. “This is why I should pick my own clothes!”
“Quiet sweetie,” Camila said sweetly. “Try the next one.”
Next came slim khakis and a pastel polo. Bharath stepped out, scowling.
“Oh hell no,” LaTasha groaned.
He looked like he’d wandered straight out of an 80s fraternity brochure.
Ravi collapsed against Jorge’s shoulder, crying with laughter. “Oh my god! He looks like he’s pledging Sigma Nu in Back to the Future!”
“Welcome to Tech, sir, can I interest you in a boat loan?” Tyrel intoned solemnly.
Girls browsing nearby burst into giggles. One of them actually clapped.
Bharath’s eyes darted in panic. “Why is there an audience?!”
Word was spreading. Students in the store realized something was happening near the fitting rooms. A small cluster gathered-girls, guys, curious gawkers. Some perched on racks. Some openly filmed with camcorders.
And then, disaster:
“Is that him?” whispered a lanky white boy with a notebook tucked under his arm. His eyes went wide with recognition. “That’s the guy from The Show!”
“Why does he look like Ricky Martin with that haircut? Doesn’t the Prince of Pleasure always dress up in a hoodie and jeans?”
It was Haiku Boy. And behind him, his merry band of fantasy-obsessed friends.
“Oh my god,” one of them whispered. “It is him. The Prince of Pleasure. The lord has transformethed into a god! Look at thine haircut!”
“Those aren’t real words!” grumbled Bharath.
Meanwhile LaTasha, Camila and Nandita dismissed a shirt that Bharath tried to pick up for herself.
The crowd tittered when Bharath nearly slipped as LaTasha and Nandita stuffed him back into the fitting room with more clothes.
Bharath wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
Camila shoved another outfit at him. Dark denim. White T-shirt.
He stepped out. The crowd actually gasped.
The shirt hugged his chest, the jeans sat low on his hips. His hair-Raul’s masterpiece-framed his face perfectly. For once, he didn’t look like a CS freshman. He looked ... hot.
“Hey Ram! You look like Shah Rukh Bharath!” Nandita said, fanning herself with her notebook.
Camila beamed. “Perfecto.”
“Boy, you dress yourself like a busted remote. Tonight you finally on the right channel,” nodded LaTasha approvingly.
The boys made a show of shielding their eyes.
“Cover up, brother, you’ll cause accidents!” Jorge cried.
“Illegal!” Ravi yelled. “My eyes! My eyes! I can’t see Bharath this way. Banish him from campus!”
Tyrel guffawed with a ditty, “He’s too sexy for his pants. He’s too sexy for his shirt...”
Girls in the crowd squealed, joining in with Tyrel while Ravi and Jorge along with the girls exploded with laughter. Someone actually shouted, “Work it, baby!”
Haiku Boy scribbled furiously in his notebook and proudly announced his latest Haiku to the world.
/A god among men/ Heroic deeds are his trade/ A mortal no more/
“Stop writing about me!” Bharath yelled at him.
“I cannot my lord. Thou arst my muse,” replied Haiku boy sweetly.
“Arst isn’t even a word!” grumbled Bharath causing Jorge, Tyrel and Ravi to clutch each other gasping with laughter. Tyrel actually fell on the floor and started rolling, unable to stop laughing. Even the girls were doing a terrible job of not trying to laugh. Bharath decided the only thing he could do is remove himself from the public view and disappeared into the changing booth.
He spent more time than necessary hoping that the others would get bored and walk away. But when the curtain creaked open again and Bharath shuffled out like a man heading to the gallows, he realized to his dismay that the crowd had grown. This time he was wearing oversized carpenter jeans-so wide at the cuffs it looked like they could double as tents. A hammer loop dangled uselessly from the side, swaying with every reluctant step.
The store erupted instantly.
“Oh my god!” Ravi doubled over. “My electrician in Delhi wears those when he fixes the ceiling fan!”
“Hermano!” Jorge clutched his chest in mock agony. “You look like you’re about to build me a chicken coop!”
“Work it, papi!” someone from the growing crowd catcalled. The girls behind the denim rack actually started clapping in rhythm, chanting, “Build me a house! Build me a house!”
Bharath’s ears went scarlet. “They’re carpenter pants, not-”
“They’re ugly pants, ” Camila cut in flatly. “Back inside. Ya!”
The curtain swallowed him again. Although he hated the attention, he realized that the crowd was not trying to humiliate him. They were egging him on. He smiled that people actually cared to waste their time on him. That moment didn’t last for a moment when some girls outside were protesting that he was gone too long. He frowned now, hating all the attention on him. He wished Sarah and Marisol had been there to take attention off him. When he was with them, no one noticed him. He preferred that.
Sighing heavily, a moment later he reemerged in crisp white chinos. The material practically glowed under the store lights, making him look like he’d wandered off a cruise ship brochure.
Tyrel whistled low. “Captain Bharath at your service. All aboard the SS Sexy.”
LaTasha punched Tyrel laughing, “You bad, sugar. Don’t make fun of your friend.”
The crowd roared with laughter.
Ravi slapped the bench, wheezing. “Do you take reservations for deck chairs, Captain?!”
Jorge added choking with laughter, “Where’s the shuffleboard deck sir? Do we need to report in for duty?”
Girls near the jewelry stand clapped again, squealing. “He’s so cute!”
Bharath groaned, dragging himself back into the fitting room. “I hate all of you.”
Camila while struggling to not roll on the floor with Jorge sensed that Bharath may not head back in. So she steeled herself, gave him a stern look and pointed back at the fitting room. Bharath sighed and headed back in.
When the curtain opened the next time, he was wearing striped track pants so shiny they squeaked with every step. He tried to walk casually, but each movement made a sound like a balloon being rubbed.
The store exploded.
Jorge was on the floor, pounding it with his fist. Ravi was crying actual tears. Even Tyrel had lost his cool, clutching his stomach as he doubled over.
And the crowd? They took it to another level. A cluster of girls started clapping in rhythm to his squeaky strides: squeak-clap, squeak-clap, squeak-clap.
Bharath froze in horror.
“Dance, my Ricky!” someone yelled. “I want to live my vida loca with you!”
“Go Bharath, go Bharath!” another chanted.
“Show your tits! Show your tits!” demanded a few sorority girls gathered near the fitting room.
“I’m going back in!” he yelped, fleeing into the fitting room like a hunted animal.
By now, the entire front of the store was packed. Students perched on racks, filming with camcorders. There was so much excitement inside the store that the poor store manager behind the counter just gave up trying to intervene. This impromptu catwalk had taken on a life of its own.
Camila’s voice slipped through the curtain, low and commanding. “Papi. Last one. Then you’re free.”
He sighed in defeat. “I don’t trust you.”
“Trust me,” she purred. “This is the one.”
Bharath grumbled but changed anyway, tugging on the final outfit: dark black jeans, snug enough to hug his thighs without suffocating him, and a charcoal-gray T-shirt that molded to his chest and shoulders like it had been tailored. He caught his reflection and blinked.
For once, it wasn’t awful. Actually ... it was good. Too good.
He braced himself and pushed the curtain aside.
The noise outside dropped like a curtain falling. Thirty pairs of eyes locked on him. Even the crowd stopped whispering. For a long heartbeat, the entire store was silent.
Then the eruption hit as there were whistles and cheers and applause.
“Oh my god, ” one girl gasped. “He’s gorgeous.”
“Illegal!” Ravi shouted, but his grin gave him away. “Too sexy! Ban him from campus!”
Jorge fanned himself with both hands. “Ay, hermano! You are going to cause riots.”
Tyrel leaned back, cool but impressed. “Yeah, man. That’s the one. You walk into Euphoria tonight with Mari and Sarah, it’s over. Done.”
The girls were already glowing with triumph. Camila smirked like a queen who had conquered a nation. LaTasha snapped her fingers. Nandita actually purred.
And the crowd? They clapped like he’d just finished a Broadway finale. A chant even started at the back: “Work it! Work it! Work it!”
Bharath’s entire face burned. “Why are they clapping?! I’m not-this isn’t a show!”
“Bro,” Jorge said, solemn again, “you are the show. Own it.”
And that’s when Bharath spotted him. His biggest fan (self proclaimed) - Haiku Boy. Haiku boy was a lanky lad, notebook clutched to his chest, eyes wide with rapture. First he bowed with respect to a confounded Bharath while the others nudged each other in glee.
To Bharath’s alarm he seemed to be scribbling furiously in his notebook as his coterie of friends seemed to hum and haw about them. After a small amount of time, Haiku boy cleared his throat and then announced with a regal bearing, “I have a new haiku for the Prince of Pleasure. Would you like to hear it oh companions of the lord?”
“No!” stated Bharath empathically.
“Yes!” squealed everyone else. Someone clapped.
Haiku boy cleared his throat once again, “This haiku hast been writteneth for lord Bharath, who is as you know, the Prince of Pleasure. I would categorize this in the general category.”
“You got categories for our boy?” asked LaTasha quizzically.
“Of course, milady. I doth hath categories for our lord Bharath. Shalt I continue?”
“No! Get out of here!” yelled Bharath.
“Hush ... we want to listen. Don’t be rude Bharath,” said Nandita with a dangerous wobble in her voice.
Bharath facepalmed but no one was paying him any attention.
/ Of polished steel gleams/ Plume dances in the morning light/ A knight stands glorious/
Bharath nearly lunged across the store trying to grab Haiku boy’s notebook. “Please stop writing about me! Pretty please!”
“But my lord, your subjects doth demandeth more tales of thine deeds. I have started a website with your haikus. I’ve booked the domain theprinceofpleasure dot com. I already have 20 views on the website. Just imagine if this could be merchandised! Imagine T-shirts with your face on it with speech bubbles and your haikus on them!” said Haiku boy dodging Bharath’s frantic lunge.
“No!” shrieked Bharath while the rest of the crowd shrieked with laughter. Bharath noted with great discomfort that quite a few people came up to Haiku boy and wrote down the name of the site.
“Score! I mean scoreth! Ten more visitors to the website my lord. This is going to be a superhit!” cooed Haiku boy. “I think we should get matching T-shirts with one for me proclaiming me as your herald.”
“Shoo!” said Nandita, batting Haiku boy away with her notebook. “Go away weirdo! We need to get him ready for tonight.”
“Farewell and adieu my lord. I shalt appraiseth thee of thine website at the earliest,” said Haiku boy bowing deeply as he passed Jorge, Tyrel and Ravi who were literally on the floor rolling and gasping.
Camila giggled looking at Bharath’s horrorstruck face, “Ok guapo ... that’s enough for today. Here’s the clothes we want you to buy. I must say that you look really good though. You should dress better more often.”
Nandita fanned herself with said notebook, “Dude ... you look like prime Sunny Deol in that tight t-shirt. Sarah and Mari are not going to be able to keep their hands to themselves tonight. They better thank us.”
LaTasha was giggling with Tyrel whispering something only they could hear. They giggled louder when Bharath gave them a death stare.
“Can I please go now? Please?” begged Bharath. He glared at the boys who started a new round of laughing seeing his face. Traitors
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