Erin's New Living Arrangements Pt. 02

Author's Note: Hiya! I just wanted to say that I'll try to make the story sound a little less...sitcom-y. In the future...I'll try to do better! You know, less...jumpy. More streamlined. If you'd like to offer some tips or pointers, feel free to do so in the comments; I appreciate it! Constructive criticism as well, of course. Thank you! (:

I

Aron sat on his bed, watching his feet dangling past the edge, hovering above the wooden floor. 'I have to admit, getting to dress up all day every day without having to work--apart from chores--sounds like a dream come true.' His elegant finger traced the ridges of his skirt, and he thought: getting to be Erin all day. 'Getting to be the Lady of the House. No, still the Man of the House...second in command. With a little crossdressing is all.'

His other option trudged up and down in the back of his mind: Calling up Roy and asking if there was work to be had at his bar. Aron had been there several times, mostly when his father wanted to stop by and talk with his old friend. It wasn't the worst of all places, though rather shabby looking. But, at least a few shifts, enough to get by for the time being, were all but guaranteed.

'While it may be somewhat of a dream of mine, simultaneously being at someone else's mercy doesn't hold the same kind of appeal. I'd be more independent while working at Roy's. Here, I'd be a housemaid, working for room and board.' He grimaced, 'And David's sudden fixation was a tad bit weird, wasn't it?' No one answered his whispered question.

'No,' he said. 'He was joking, and Sarah just broke up with him.' Finishing the sentence, he hopped off the ledge, unzipped the skirt, and hauled the peach tee above his head. Just as before, both garments vanished inside the suitcase, which, in turn, disappeared beneath his bed. David would probably find it within five seconds of searching, but that mattered little by now. 'It must've been some weird expression of his downtrodden heart. He was venting his frustration by...redirecting it towards innuendo-filled comments about his best friend. Simple as.'

The musings stopped when his eyes happened to glance at the clock on his nightstand: 1 a.m. 'Can't say I'm drained right now, with that not-quite-voluntary nap earlier, but still: time to follow David's lead and hit the sack.' He lay down, covering all but his right foot with the blanket and closed his eyes. 'Still,' he murmured, 'a tad weird. I'll call Roy first thing tomorrow.'

II

As early birds usually do, Aron caught the shower first and managed to pass through his entire morning regiment before David had even drawn the blinds in his room. He stood before the stovetop, pouring a generous scoop of batter into a hot pan. Wedged between his shoulder and ear, his phone demanded as much attention as the soon-to-be breakfast. 'Tomorrow? Already?' The spatula slid under the pancake, and Aron flipped it around with a skillful flick. 'Sure, yes, totally. I'll be there; count on me.' Another flick, a judging eye, and yet another one before he tossed it onto its predestined spot atop the plate to his left. 'Brilliant. Thanks, Roy! See you then.'

'Roy?' David asked, appearing behind Aron silently as a cat. 'That the guy you once told me about, the one with the bar?'

'Yepp, I called him up, inquired about any staffing needs he should have, and voilà: I'm starting tomorrow.' Aron smiled at his friend, partly due to the good news of having had success in his half-a-day job hunt, partly because David had yet to shower, and an enormous cowlick adorned the right side of his short-cut, chestnut hair. 'Sleep well, did you?'

'Better, even. And in no small part thanks to your intervention.' With half-lidded eyes, he gestured for Aron to fix him a glass of water and emptied it ere his mouth opened again: 'Though, I have to say, I'm kind of disappointed to see my girl of the hour gone and probably packed up again.'

And now it's getting a wee bit suspicious, Aron thought. 'Anyway,' he steered the conversation, 'you have the rest of the week off from work, right?'

'I do; why, do you need me for something?'

'Well, Roy'd like me to wear, you know, what all the other waitresses and waiters wear: tight, black jeans and a matching tee. Also, white sneakers, but I do already have those, so...check.' He half-smiled. 'Could you drive me to the shopping centre? Pretty please?'

David's eyes settled on the counter's flecked pattern, zooming in on a particular blot as his mind looked into the matter, analysing his schedule for any conflicting entries. Finally, after what appeared to Aron as a comically large pause, he said, 'Totally. I want to browse for some new pants, anyway.'

'Brilliant, you're a lifesaver.' As they conversed, the pancake batch grew formidable as the batter bowl emptied gradually. Patting against his thighs, against the white of his waist-high apron, he commended an admirable morning's cooking. He motioned for David to sit, saying, 'How about we leave after breakfast...and after you've had a chance to wake up properly?'

'All right.' David rested his chin on his palm; he watched Aron arrange two plates, placed vis-à-vis with maple syrup in the middle.

'Breakfast's served; enjoy.'

Aron thought he did a swell job, but David's heady smile promised even more. Not one to find distaste in honest compliments, Aron asked, 'What's up with that grin?'

'Oh,' David explained, 'nothing; I just noticed you're a whiz behind the oven.'

'Just one of my many talents, as you'll come to learn,' Aron replied smugly.

David's expression turned from heady to wry. 'I'm sure of it.' His fork buried itself deeply in the hot, steaming pile of golden-coloured and syrup-dripping pancakes.

III

David killed the ignition. 'Here we are,' he said, turning towards Aron. 'Where'd you like to go first?'

'Out of the car--' Aron opened the door, tumbling out on wacky legs.

'Oh, right, you have motion sickness...sorry, I should've driven more carefully.'

'No,' Aron barged in, feeling his sense of balance straightening out and his stomach settling, feeling relief even from the misty grey parking garage air, 'it's fine. I should've said something--' He choked up. 'Uh--'

'Huh?' David uttered, his right arm coiled around Aron's waist. 'Is it getting better?' He must've noticed Aron's body language; his friend stood slightly hunched, oozing awkwardness. David's arm slid up, giving his friend three hearty claps on the back before removing itself entirely. 'Ready to go?' he asked brusquely, stepping towards the centre's entrance.

Aron thrust his hands into his pockets, adopting a brisk gait to keep up with his friend. The parking structure's naturally cooler air helped him in this pinch. His lips mouthed a soft, silent 'Phew,' and he asked, 'So, what exactly are you looking for?'

'Looking for? What do you mean?'

Aron refreshed his memory, 'Pants? What kind of pants, special occasion or regular fit?'

'Oh, yeah. Right...uhm, just normal ones. You know, more of those I always wear.'

'Okidoki, Mr Plain Pants.'

'Isn't it "Fancy Pants"?'

'It would be....' Aron's eyes trailed off, gazing at other shoppers as they passed the automatic sliding doors. Numerous shops to all sides, with food vendors filling out the broader, open centre-placed spaces, greeted them, and, in no way threatened by the sheer amount of choice, Aron knew precisely where he'd be headed. But first, he said, 'First thing's first, where do you want to go? Or do we split up?' His blue eyes stared up at David.

He returned it in kind and said, 'I want to visit Saila; how about you?' Before Aron could answer, he added, 'I'd like to stay together.'

'Ah, that's where I want to go to, too. Perfect, let's head out.'

David followed suit, watching as Aron made his way through the crowds. It must've been a busy day; dozens of patrons lined every nook and cranny, and he struggled to keep from grinning, watching as Aron wadded on his toes now and again, stretching his delicate frame to gain an overview, and how he'd duck and slide past dense blocks of people, paving a way forward. Not one time did David assume the forerunner's position. He remained short paces behind, not keen on missing out on Aron's riveting performance.

Unfortunately, the play ended when Aron stopped in front of a store, turning on his heel with a smile on his lips, saying, 'Here we are.' His pupils rummaged through the generously laid-out articles of clothing he could preview from the entrance. Having spotted the pants, he gestured for David to come along as he marched in, needing only one inattentive second of his friend to be found juggling different colours and sizes. 'How about these? I think they'd fit you fine!' He stretched out his arm, showing off the light-blue pair flung over his wrist.

David grabbed them, inspecting the fabric by touch and the colour with his scrutinising forest green eyes. 'They're nice, but I'd say you should go and search for your uniform first. It's more important; I'll stay here and browse a bit, right?' His words carried themselves carefree, and the deep, rich tone alone prompted Aron always to hear his friend's statements with more seriousness. He buried David beneath the entire amalgamation of pieces he'd already picked, shuffled a little to the side and answered, 'I wouldn't really call it a uniform...just a particular dress code. But sure, I'll be right over there, then.'

Applying the same regal eye, Aron found what he was looking for without much hassle--clothes that would accentuate his already feminine-looking build even more. Well, it wasn't what he was looking for but what Roy had asked for, really. 'All the other servers are women, and I get why he wants them to wear this--knowing your clientele and all--but I don't get why he can't cut me some slack.' The complaints, whispered at a pair of tight, black trousers, expressed more profound concerns. 'There's a reason I always wear baggy stuff--why Aron always wears baggy stuff; Erin, though....' The back of his hand glided across the gentle, stretchy textile. 'I just don't want the whole wide world to know that I like dressing up as a woman--especially not dad.'

With the words, 'Not to mention how hot this outfit will be,' he strutted off towards the changing cabins. The third from the right was empty, and he brushed its curtain aside, got in, closed it back up again, and found three more Arons staring at himself. 'God, I love these mirrors. Must be some trickery, but they never fail to charm you.' He quickly unbuttoned his blue-lined shirt and unbuckled his belt, folding it all provisionally before returning to his beloved reflection.

Left only in underwear and a pair of white socks, he stood plainly. No fancy poses or funny faces; Aron liked these magical mirrors to reassure him about his body. He'd always been the scrawny kid, and when puberty hit, neither height nor facial hair graced him. The only gift his genetics bestowed upon him were buttocks that could draw the envy of every female classmate and some. It became the butt of many jokes, and he'd complain to them. Nevertheless, when he was alone, or in his mind, the combination of his bodily strong suits and an attraction to those who gained more masculine attributes during puberty felt more like a blessing. 'If only I weren't so shy, boy, could I have swooned some boys.'

As his hand was absentmindedly reaching for the top on the coat hanger to his left, still fixated on the slim contours of his stomach in the mirror, someone drew the curtain and ended his session of self-obsession. 'Wha--!'

'Buddy, check out this--oh,' David muttered, holding up a pair of grey pants for inspection. He stood before his half-naked friend, staring with unblinking eyes, lingering. 'I'm so sorry.' The words came out with little haste; Aron felt as though David was dragging it out but stood, dazed, too perplexed to reach for the curtain himself. After what felt like a terribly long stare-down, David withdrew, and Aron relaxed. Somewhat.

'That was...odd.' His fair-skinned entourage had turned vermilion-headed in the meantime. It took him a second to gather his thoughts. He realised he'd been using his hands to block his chest from view. 'Welp, that's not necessary,' he mumbled.

Before he could regain his momentum on his own, his friend's words penetrated the curtain: 'Hurry up, now. All other stalls are occupied, and I need to try these on.' Aron grabbed his work clothes and slipped them on; he fought with the pants' legs, feeling restricted as though he was putting on another layer of skin. Whilst his palm scanned his crotch, he thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't endowed with anything to brag about because more wouldn't have fit--the slight bulge he'd begun massaging, engrossed in indecent thoughts he wouldn't admit to, proved it.

Only when the already tight space started running out, providing a whole other feeling of restrictiveness, did his mind jump into gear. His hand retired, and he gave this particularly slim looking mirror-image another glance-over, herding his eyes from head to toe--and coming away satisfied. Though he cursed how the outfit and the changing drove up his body temperature. Nonetheless, there was no going around it: he changed back to his clothes, drove both his hands through the tangled mess of blond hair atop his head, gave his cheeks two mild claps, and surrendered the cabin to David.

As Aron sat on the bench opposite his--right now, most likely undressed--mate, the accumulated heat of his face dissipating and the strain on his pants' threads fading, he wondered where his life was heading.

IV

David upped his pace, going for the door as he held it open, extending his arm. 'In you go.'

'Thanks,' Aron said. 'I'd offer my culinary skills to reciprocate, but I'm still stuffed from the sushi; how about you?'

'Same, same. Honestly, I'll probably lie down for a bit.'

'Lazybones.'

David gave a stern look. 'Watch your mouth, young boy.'

Both of them chuckled until David continued, 'But seriously, I'm knackered.' He turned on the lights in the hallway, heading straight for the staircase. With one foot on the first step, he leant back and said, 'What will you be up to? You strange mixture of an early bird and a night owl.' He wore another playfully nauseated expression.

'Me? Well, I'm not lazy--compared to a specific someone I may or may not be looking at right now--so I won't go to sleep; that's for sure.'

'...now that wasn't necessary.' David bolted up the steps, disappearing instantly and leaving only a resounding 'Good night!' for Aron to remember him by.

'Yepp, I definitely won't go to sleep.'

He stood idly for a couple of seconds, pricking his ears for the familiar clack of the upstairs door. Then he hopped into action. Light feet ascended the stairwell in a jiffy, reaching Aron's own bedroom door. Brushing past it--and locking it in one swift motion--he let his body fall backwards onto the bed. The feathery mattress cushioned his bottom's descent, though the unexpectedly spirited way he moved caused him to let out a high-pitched yip.

Self-embarrassed, he collected his composure, patting the flats of his hands up and down his thighs. The jeans' fabric mimicked the wavelike means of calming down, building up and stretching out rhythmically. And then, the rhythm stopped--his hand continued upwards, halting only at the waistline, pushing aside his t-shirt, undoing the belt.

Aron had to raise his behind, bolstering himself on his legs, still planted on the floor and his elbows, digging into his bed. His ass, right past the edge, comfortably settled on the mattress, rose to give his jeans safe passage, and settled down in a new colour: the white of his boxers.

'I wonder how he saw me,' Aron whispered. 'How he perceived me.' He'd always noticed David's rather athletic physique. His tall statue coupled with a naturally well-proportioned body. His deliberate way of handling himself, the ease with which he carried absurdly heavy objects that forced Aron to his knees. 'With those same lewd thoughts in the back of his head....'

He hadn't even begun; the thoughts alone had given his underwear reason to rise. His fingers still waited unmoving, resting, waiting immobile on his thighs. Then they acted, clutching his tee by the hem, towing it up his body and over his shoulders. He rubbed his eyes, gazed down his figure--past his timid chest, his delicate stomach--and disrobed down to his socks, lifting his rear again to get rid of the remaining piece of limiting cloth.

It slipped off, offered up to gravity around his knees and slid down the rest of his legs. Aron's half-erect cock wobbled left and right whilst he moved his feet, flinging the boxers to the other side of the room. Then it stopped, firmly secured by the shaft's base, clasped between his forefinger and thumb. He squeezed a bit and tensed his cock as he watched it stiffen. The tip, light pink and taut, hid partially behind his foreskin. His hand wandered up, grasped tight, and went back down--stringing it along, pulling it down, revealing its entirety.

Aron moaned. It was soft and passion-filled; his thoughts continued coursing around David, replaying when he drew the curtain. His stout form just stood there, lingering. For a reason: he enjoyed what he saw. While David's gaze panned across his friend's body, Aron focused solely on his eyes--and they glimmered excitedly at Aron's petite features. Aron knew it. He'd done it; his eyes told the same story as they observed his class's jocks crowding the locker room after a game. Lust.

The moans kept on coming with every motion of his hand. Calm and restful when it glid up, dipping in ecstasy when it glid down. His legs straightened, venting the immense emotions, resting rigidly on their heels.

His tempo increased steadily. After several thrusts, his thumb extended upwards, gracing his frenulum, adding another element to the chorus. His lips quivered beneath the struggle to keep them in check; he was worried about being overly loud. Yet his throat kept producing sounds that preached of his desire: light whimpers on the brim of his vocal cords, groans, drawn-out moans and loud, hasty breaths.

When his toes curled, Aron knew he was close. His hand turned even more ruthless; he held his cock tightly, thumb out, riding up and down. The bottom of his fist bumped against his naked skin and rose to engulf the tip. Back down, and then back up. Over and over, above angled legs and below a stiff stomach. Again and again, to the sweetest moans and muffled yelps. And then he came.

He leant back onto the mattress, feeling his lower body tensing in numerous waves, a jolt of pleasure accumulating between his thighs and releasing itself through his hard cock, spurting out in white, hot cum, landing all over his stomach. Even after he'd stopped, the tide didn't settle and kept him on cloud nine for a few more moments. Only when it faded did he feel his energy utterly drained, and all lust swept out of his system with the receding current. And the cum on his body turned cold as he drove a finger through it, around his naval and up to his chest. Then down again while he thought of brushing his teeth, David, and David's nap, and whether or not he'd heard any of this. And he felt exhausted.