WORD COUNT: 655
STYLE/WARNINGS: Crack!Slash, Gene/Sam (some implications of Ray as well). Crossdressing. Brown Cortina.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Follow-on from lozenger8's Pretty Princess. Beta'd by the fantastic m31andy. I don't just blame Andy for this, for once. This is clearly Loz's fault as well, which may be a change of pace for me. >3
PORNY PORNY PRINCESS
What Sam hadn't said that night was that this wasn't the first time he'd worn a ridiculously frilly dress.
Actually, that was one of the things Maya had quite liked about him, back in 2006...he was small and birdlike and frail and could fit quite nicely into some of the lovely outfits she purchased for him. And since they were of similar size, she could quite easily try things on in shops, purchase them, bring them home, and let the fun begin at her leisure.
There was a particularly lurid purple leopard-spotted velvet corset with ruched black satin bits + beaded trim that she was rather fond of. She loved how it hugged his frame, nipped in his already slightly girlish waist just-so... making a truly lovely picture.
At first, Sam had objected. But soon the objections became part of the game, as he realised more and more he really enjoyed playing dress-up. Or feeling particularly naughty whilst wearing a completely ridiculous and inappropriate thong under his trousers.
Of course, matters became slightly complicated in that regard when he was sent back to 1973. With trousers being so tight, well, a certain amount of discomfort was almost a given.
Even this, though, he began to enjoy. And it began to come in handy, since there was so much restriction placed on his ever-sensitive and ever-inquisitive cock.
The undergarments some might view as "questionable" weren't the only things wound up tight in Sam's world. It didn't take an ace copper to tell, either.
Oddly, he hadn't been wearing any such undergarments on the night he'd been utterly pissed out of his mind and ended up in that purple number Gene and Ray had thought so becoming on young Gladys. Sam couldn't decide if that was to his relief or his detriment, really. On the one hand, what had happened when he'd yelped "Fuck me" had been nothing short of fantastic (even if it had at one point involved the rather discomfiting image of Gene smacking Ray's arse and yelling "Giddyap, Raimondo!" whilst smacking solidly balls-deep into said arse), but on the other hand... he wasn't sure if this was merely dalliance or meant to be a standing appointment. Sort of like cards, or something similar. You bring the snacks, I'll bring the lube.
He hoped it was the latter. He dreamed it was the latter--- so much he nearly made quite a mess all over his specially-chosen lacy knickers, and that would never do. After all, it might attract attention.
He might get caught.
He wanted to get caught, really. Dreamed of it. Prayed for it.
"Oi, Sammy-boy, you been down the pub without me?" Gene clapped Sam hard on the shoulder as he exited the loo.
Sam swallowed, hard, trying to get round the lump of tension wedged solidly in his throat. "No, Guv. Why would I do that?"
"You've been in there at least 5 times today, and if you haven't been drinking, and you haven't got my new issue of Jugs in your hands, I can only suggest you see a doctor. Or get WDC Cartwright to take a look...?" Gene gave a smolderingly wicked grin.
Sam sighed. Today was looking to be the worst possible day he'd had since he'd been here. Before, he hadn't had expectations to be disappointed about.
That was, until Gene very firmly, very surreptitiously cupped Sam's cock and balls through his trousers as he turned to walk back toward his office. No-one was around, and even if they had been, they'd never have seen it. He'd done it with such a fluid motion, it had just seemed like his arm had brushed against Sam in a momentary bit of clumsiness as it swang in time with Gene's normal gait.
Sam flushed, then ran back into the loo again, muttering to no-one in particular that he'd forgotten his mobile.