You Better Work.
Now that Prior had established that the woman temporarily inhabiting his body wasn't going to do anything foolish (and he'd assured her that his body wasn't likely to give out with her in it... which was a bit of a sobering thought, really, since he was sure it would give out eventually, once it was safely back in his possession), he decided to make the most of the situation. Not only was it nice to be able to see and to walk properly (and well, to generally just feel healthy for the first time in years), but he had a dress to finish fitting.
Oh, and she--he--was perfect. Taller than Maureen, too, and slightly smaller tits. The perfect model. She really should have gone into that instead of... what was it that guy said? A lawyer? What a complete waste!
He couldn't help but do his makeup and hair, too--which he was capable of doing without making himself look like a drag queen, which for once he was not--and grab some fabulous heels from the clothes box before slipping into the dress and heading up to the rec room where he'd left his sewing kit.
The dress was fierce, he decided, glancing in the mirror in the hallway on the way there. Only needed some work on the hem. (Which pursuant to his personal style, wasn't exactly straight anyway--amazing how his personal style coincided with the fact that his slightly shaking hands made it hard for him to work with straight lines.)
As soon as he walked into the rec room, a song started to play on the juke box. He immediately approved, and couldn't help but do a proper catwalk down the rec room. And then, unsatisfied with the length, headed back into the compound, and did a full-on catwalk, pausing to twirl and pause for the camera, and then heading back. He had a fierce walk for a guy, and having hips just made it all that much better. He posed in the doorway of the rec room.
Even if he was disturbed by the fact that this was far closer than he'd ever wanted to be to a vagina in his life, this part was kind of a drag queen's fantasy.
Oh, and she--he--was perfect. Taller than Maureen, too, and slightly smaller tits. The perfect model. She really should have gone into that instead of... what was it that guy said? A lawyer? What a complete waste!
He couldn't help but do his makeup and hair, too--which he was capable of doing without making himself look like a drag queen, which for once he was not--and grab some fabulous heels from the clothes box before slipping into the dress and heading up to the rec room where he'd left his sewing kit.
The dress was fierce, he decided, glancing in the mirror in the hallway on the way there. Only needed some work on the hem. (Which pursuant to his personal style, wasn't exactly straight anyway--amazing how his personal style coincided with the fact that his slightly shaking hands made it hard for him to work with straight lines.)
As soon as he walked into the rec room, a song started to play on the juke box. He immediately approved, and couldn't help but do a proper catwalk down the rec room. And then, unsatisfied with the length, headed back into the compound, and did a full-on catwalk, pausing to twirl and pause for the camera, and then heading back. He had a fierce walk for a guy, and having hips just made it all that much better. He posed in the doorway of the rec room.
Even if he was disturbed by the fact that this was far closer than he'd ever wanted to be to a vagina in his life, this part was kind of a drag queen's fantasy.