Work Text:
Blonde Bombshell (or "How I Became A Queen")
By Iocane
Max locked the door to his quarters. He'd made absolutely sure no one would call him for at least ten hours. His link was turned off, just in case, as was everything else in his quarters that could be used to contact him. He was completely isolated, cut off from the rest of the Excalibur.
Glancing around, he wished desperately that such measures weren't necessary. There was no one on the ship who would understand. He didn't dare let anyone close for fear they would learn what he was. Walking over to his desk, he found the data crystal he was looking for. He smiled to himself, remembering how he had "accidentally" given Gideon the pornographic data crystal. The videos contained on it almost ensured that no one would visit him unannounced.
Slipping the crystal into the slot, he closed his eyes as the opening notes of Frank Sinatra's "My Way" filled the cabin. Sinatra always put him in the right mood for what he was about to do.
Crossing the room, he stood before a large, alien looking box. Opening it, he reverently pulled out what he needed, and closed the box. Moving into his bedroom, he lay the items on the bed and began to undress. Tossing his clothes carelessly into the hamper, he sang along to Sinatra.
Taking a deep breath, leaned under the bed and pulled out another alien box, this one small and flat. Setting it on the bed beside the other items, he decided it was time to begin.
Picking up the hose, he gathered up one leg slowly. He felt a twinge of guilt whenever he wore them - he'd hidden them from Cynthia after she thought she'd lost them. He'd withdrawn from her after it became clear that he could never tell her about himself. Pushing the thoughts aside, Max slipped the hose over his foot and tugged them up to his knee. After pulling both legs on, he stood and pulled the hose up the rest of the way. He pulled and tugged to get them on just right, then turned his back on the full length mirror, checking the seams. He'd added the seams a few years ago specifically for the costume he was putting on. They just seemed to 'go' with it.
Reaching into the small pile on the bed, he picked up the bra. To be more accurate, it was strap-on-breasts. They'd been sized perfectly to look real. Through most fabrics, they even felt real. There was even a way to get real looking cleavage, though Max didn't often bother with that. He grunted as he hooked it up in the back, wondering for the thousandth time how women had put up with these things for so long.
Again checking the mirror, Max stood sideways, running his hands over his front. He sucked in his stomach, wishing he hadn't had that second ice cream sundae the day before.
"My Way" became "New York" as Max pulled the corset on. It was colored to match his skin exactly, so as not to show through sheer fabrics. While he found corsets rather comfortable, he disliked the necessity of wearing them. Always a self-honest person, Max knew that he was no longer the young man he once was, and that his girlish figure was long gone.
As with the bra, he struggled with the lacing on the corset. Having done it so many times, he was surprised to find how difficult it could still be from time to time. Especially this one. Glancing at the one of the final items on the bed, he reminded himself firmly that it was more than worth it in the end.
Giving himself a once-over in the mirror, he smiled. Just a few more touches and he'd be done. Slipping the dress over his body, he wiggled and let is slither down, settling over his hips. Briefly, he longed for a grate on which to stand.
Picking up the shoes, Max sat on the bed and pulled them on, fastening the buckle over his ankles. He held up the wig and smoothed it down. It didn't really need it, as it was designed to stay the same shape no matter what. Max liked the comforting feel of the platinum blonde silk under his fingers, however. Bending, he slipped it on his head, tucking his natural hair underneath.
Reaching for the box, he opened it, smiling at the contents. First, he applied a foundation, evening and lightening is skin tone. His hands moved through the motions with practiced ease. Due to his fear of being caught, Max wore makeup far more often than he got dressed up - it was far easier to undo. He penciled in a small birthmark near his upper lip and snapped the box shut.
Standing, he twirled a few times, letting the skirt fly out. Stopping and facing the mirror, he bent slightly and held his hands as though to hold the dress down. Smiling into the mirror, he asked sweetly. "Isn't it delicious?"
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