Page 94 of I'm Not Your Pet

My new clothes were tighter than anything I’d worn on Earth. They were classy though. Tasteful. Maybe a hair slutty, but nothing like I’d had when I worked the sex-pods. Exhaling raggedly, I tugged my garter belt into place beneath the silky fabric of the dress, then hiked the slit on my skirt up so the lace at the top of the thigh-high socks I was wearing was visible.

Ushuu had assured me that it wouldn’t be odd for me to wear a dress. After seeing the eclectic mix of androgyny in the lobby, I knew he’d been correct.

I wouldn’t stick out.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous.

I’d never worn anything likethisbefore.

Ever.

Not that I hadn’t wanted to—I’d just…yeah.

I’d been raised to be a “good” boy. To never toe the line. And I’d been careful to only stick out in the ways my parents wanted me to. Even though that meant ignoring the ache I felt every time I passed a pretty display in a window—or filling my cart with lace in an incognito tab, and never checking out.

If I was being totally honest, I’d always been more attracted to dresses than suits. I liked the way they swooshed through the air. Loved how soft the fabric looked. Loved the different cuts to the necklines, the sleeves, the skirts.

One time, right after I’d turned eighteen, I’d rode the bus to the mall and spent a whole day inside a lingerie store just staring. When an associate finally noticed me and asked me what I wanted, I hadn’t been able to get a single word out. I’d just pointed at a pair of panties, and like the complete angel she was, she’d grabbed them for me and plopped them in a shopping basket.

I’d stood in line, shaking all the way to my toes, positive everyone was judging me—even though they weren’t.

By the time it was my turn to pay, I chickened out.

I didn’t buy the panties, but I sure thought about them. Thought about them every time I jerked off. Imagined what they would’ve felt like clinging to my dick. If they would’ve been as soft on my cock as they’d felt between my fingers.

I’d never gone back to that store again, afraid the employee would remember me.

It was a stupid fear, but my life was full of those.

I couldn’t believe I was wearing a dress. An actual, real-life dress. And not a cheap one either—this was one thing I hadn’t been frugal about. It was the dress I’d admired from the window. The one I’d wanted desperately. The price had made me gag, but I’d bought it anyway, because the moment I’d seen the mannequin—just my size—dressed in the silky white fabric, I’d fallen in love.

Fanning my hand along the glittery cloth, smooth to the touch despite its sparkle, I released the breath I’d been holding. It wasbeautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I hadn’t dared look in the mirror as I’d been pulling it on—I’d felt foolish enough when it got stuck halfway over my shoulders and I’d had to contort to get out—I didn’t need toseeit too.

I bet it looks awful.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, afraid to look. I knew I was plain. I’d never been the kind of boy that got second glances. I’d filled out some since training with Roark, but there was no denying how scrawny I was.

I wasn’t a stunner like my mother, or classically handsome like my dad. Never had shoulders to write home about. Never had abs, or sculpted biceps, or a big bouncy chest like Roark did. I didn’t have the curves to fill out the dress either, no ass, hips, or breasts.

By all rights, I never should’ve bought the damn thing in the first place.

But…

But I’dwantedto. And Roark had said to have fun. And I’d promised—but even more than that I’d wanted…

I’dwanted…

I’d wanted Roark to think I was…to think I waspretty.

I wanted tofeelpretty.

I’d wanted it so badly I ached.

You can do this, Hugo.

Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

If it looks bad you can take the damn thing off before anyone else sees.

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