How I Became Emperor Ch. 05: Sunday

"So you hang to the right." Erica noted carefully on the sheet she was using to keep track of the measurements. "Well I think I have everything, let's get on with the actual fun part, shall we?"

"And what part would that be?" I asked, completely innocent.

"Trying on some clothes, of course!" Erica answered bewildered that I wouldn't share that opinion. "Just give me a moment, I'll be right back."

She vanished through the door opposite the one we had come in, but it had barely closed before she was stepping through it again, a large pile of shirts in her arms.

"I thought we would begin with the shirts." She explained. "It really is the centre of any outfit."

"If you say so..." I replied as she handed me the first one. "Uh, where is the changing room?"

Erica and Keisha both stared at me blankly. Erica answered, "you're standing in it."

"Oh." I replied realising that I wouldn't be getting any privacy for the changing. Figuring that Keisha had already seen me naked from the waist-up, and that Erica was a professional, I took off my shirt.... And put on the one Erica offered as quickly as possible.

At this point Keisha got interested and stood, coming over to pull at the fabric, rub it between two fingers, and stand back to see the visual effect.

I can remember the two of them discussing many things that day. Many of the discussions are ones that continued until Keisha sadly passed just two years ago. Erica tells me that she still sometimes keeps the discussions going with herself, a way to remember Keisha I suppose. Many of them of course revolved about what kind of cut suited my figure better, whether small splashes of colour added or detracted from my mystique. My favourite to this day is still the ongoing discussion about whether the fabrics would allow me enough air to prevent me from sweating, and god forbid: show sweat marks, particularly in long meetings or in speeches.

There was something quite it's own in the dance that the two ladies would take around me, passing me what would appear and feel like identical shirts, standing back to admire the picture, coming in close and circling around me to take a closer look, then retreating again and inspecting their handiwork in the mirrors and on my body.

At least it was that way for the shirts. The ties came next, a skinny purple one to exude regal-ness according to Keisha, and a striped dark grey, burgundy. Those were alright as well. The terror only really set in after that.

Erica vanished behind her mysterious door from whence she produced all these clothes, then stuck her head back out. "Do you want to start with the suit, or with the underwear?"

I was unready for the question, but Keisha put on a pensive face just long enough for me to gather my thoughts again, then answered before I could: "the underwear."

Erica nodded and vanished into the back room.

"Uh.... Are you expecting me to change in front of you and Erica again?" I asked, slightly afraid of the answer.

"Whether you change in front of Erica is up to her, I guess." She replied naughtily and leaving absolutely no guesses as to whether she'd be staying to watch.

I gulped.

Erica of course returned with a large stack of underwear in various forms. "I don't know whether you prefer wearing briefs, boxer-shorts or something else, so I brought a sampling of everything. I'm also guessing that there's going to be some discussion about the cut to come as well." She said with a sly grin pointed in Keisha's direction.

I growled a little in my throat, but quietly so that neither of the other two heard.

"Shall I give you some privacy?" Erica asked, indicating the door back to the shop. Keisha pointedly raised an eyebrow in my direction, throwing the question to me.

I sighed. "If I am going to be embarrassed and uncomfortable then it might as well be in front of two people instead of one." I mused darkly. To myself I also thought, 'and anyway, maybe this way I can convince Erica that Keisha wasn't my girlfriend.'

However I did direct them to the back of the room to sit on the bench, before I turned back to the mirrors to strip and pull on the first pair of underwear, boxers like I was used to. From behind me I thought I heard some whispered conversation, but I was concentrating heavily on trying to change quickly. That kept my mind from wandering to more dangerous subjects, such as the fact two nubile young women were in the room with me.

The boxers I pulled on were heavenly as I remember. Some sort of artificial silk or satin blend that I almost couldn't feel on my skin, so light was the material. Keisha however took one look at them from her seat back against the wall and immediately shook her head. "Nope, next." She called to me. I considered protesting, but she gave me a stern frown in the mirror, and I rushed to pull on the next pair. Also boxer shorts, though a little long in my opinion.

Keisha shook her head to two more boxer shorts before she declared that boxer shorts just wouldn't do. I protested, "what does it matter what kind of underwear I wear? No one is going to see them under my pants, shirt and jacket. I feel comfortable wearing boxer shorts. Surely you want me to feel at least a little comfortable when I'm talking to 100 people!"

That earned me a quizzical look from Erica. Keisha instead stood up and came across to pull dismissively at the fabric, dangerously close to punching something sensitive. "I don't really care whether you will be comfortable while up on stage." She explained in slightly clipped tones. "But people don't just vote with their brains. Their heart, their gut and all the other organs play along as well. Our demographic for this election is going to be young men and women, given their first full taste of freedom, and out in the world looking to test the limits, and ready and willing for anything. I want the women to look at you and subconsciously wonder what you would be like in bed. If you can inflame a base lust deep in their gut, you've as good as won their vote. Their brains will follow their subconscious impulse. For the men, so long as you don't present a direct challenge to their own manhood, you will be a subconscious role-model. Someone to aspire to. We need to make sure your package stands out, not noticeably, but so that everyone's gaze will be drawn down to your groin at least once and leave a lasting impression. These boxer shorts will not provide you with any definition, or allow you to ensure the placing of your... Sex." Keisha declared. "Try a slip, or a brief. They will give you much greater definition."

I believe I must have gaped at the explanation. I know that I barely caught Erica looking intrigued before she composed herself with a diplomatic and enigmatic smile appropriate for a shopkeeper who was certain of an imminent sale. By this time I knew better than to argue. Instead I sent Keisha back to the bench, and pulled over one of the briefs.

It was uncomfortably tight at first, but made of the same light material of the boxer shorts. I tried to play around with my penis trying to find a comfortable position. I settled on a sort of half-upwards lean to the right, with my ball-sack tucked lightly to the same side. Keisha nodded with greater approval. Seeing my 'arrangement' Erica suggested another brief that I dutifully tried on. The cut seemed to be custom made for that half-upward-right lean and much more comfortable.

I would have been more than happy to leave it at that, but Keisha insisted on having me try three slips. Just to make sure that they were not as good as the briefs. These were completely uncomfortable for me, too tight especially also in the back, leaving too much skin bare that I was unused to. Keisha really liked them though, since they carried both penis and ball-sack upwards and made a good mound. Keisha hemmed and hawed for a while, looking at me in her favourite slip, then touching the brief thoughtfully. In the end she turned to Erica. "Can I ask you to step outside for just a moment anyway? I have a rather... sensitive subject I'd like to discuss in order to make my final decision." I noted dryly that there was no question that it would be her decision.

Erica promptly complied, though I could see she was very curious as to what this could be. She later also confided to me that she suspected that perhaps Keisha had been overcome by a wish to undertake some hanky-panky, which would certainly have fit with Keisha's character.

As soon as the door closed it seemed apparent that this was indeed Keisha's intent. She hopped up onto the little dais with me and whispered into my ear in a sexy, breathless voice: "That slip makes your cock look the size of a horse's. I'm completely wet just thinking about the size. I don't even have to imagine you sliding that pole in and out of my sopping pussy. Just imagine you standing before me in nothing but that underwear. It's as though I am tied, one limb to a post, unable to bring a hand down to at least try to dry myself off a little bit, completely at your mercy."

Her hand snaked onto my cock over the slip and rubbed it through the silken fabric slightly. That was the last straw, and I had a raging boner ready for a good fucking. My conversation with Cindy that morning flashed through my head, and not for the last time I wondered whether she had had a premonition of something to come. But I was not yet ready to be so unfaithful to Cindy, even though she had given me express permission, and even named Keisha by name, I somehow felt that at least for my own piece of mind, I could not do this now.

I firmly took a hold of Keisha's hand and moved it away from my pecker. "Keisha. No. Someday soon perhaps, with Cindy's permission, but not now."

Keisha gave me a very interested look, perhaps surprised by the possibility of future allowed coupling between her and me, but did not take the action any further. "My aim is achieved anyhow." She said almost blandly in comparison to her sexy breathless whisper. I needed you to get a hard-on to see how it looked in the underwear."

I looked into the mirror and could see just the barest peak of my head forcing its way up past the elastic band of the slip. It did look massive, even to me. Keisha urged me to put the briefs on before I lost the hard-on again, but she did not retreat back to the bench again, instead waiting expectantly standing before me. For the hundredth time I considered arguing, and for the hundredth time I decided not to. Keisha had the kind of silent expectant will that overpowered any independent will to action. I pulled on the briefs, and again my full-on boner created a sizable, if smaller, mound. Keisha nodded as though she had been expecting this. "Yes," she mused, "I think the briefs it is. We'll have to make sure you go out with a hard-on, just to make sure that everyone will notice through the pants, but at least it won't be a constant reminder to make it a conscious aspect in people's minds that would cause them to dislike you. Very well."

Not caring that I was only losing my stiffness slowly Keisha stalked to the door and invited Erica back in. She definitely saw my engorged state through the underwear, but gave no visible sign that it perturbed her at all. She must have known that the time was far too quick for any real sexual action to take place. At least that thought is how I comforted myself.

We continued with the pants and jacket, Keisha again throwing a critical eye towards my groin, and only once leaning in to whisper, "tied up and at the mercy of your rod" when she thought she had to egg me on to greater stiffness again so that she could check the appearance through the pants. Erica was in the room, but gave no sign that she heard or saw anything untoward. Both pants and jacket would need some minor alterations to be made so that they were absolutely perfect, but Erica promised that Keisha would be able to pick them up early the next morning, well before my speech would be planned.

We moved on to the shoes, where one of the - even to this day - endless discussions between Erica and Keisha began concerning the form of the shoes, whether a small heel should be included to give me just a little more of a sway/self-confident swagger to my walk, as well as to elevate me in the eyes of onlookers, whether the tips should be sharp or rounded, how far up the ankle the shoe should come, and so forth. With the shoes came an easy selection of socks. I had hardly pulled on the first pair of knee-high socks when Keisha simply stated: "yes. Next." Ignoring the large pile that Erica had brought along.

The very final and most debated part was the hat. I favoured a wide-brimmed western hat, with a low crown, and a sharp peak above the forehead. Erica thought that in combination with the jacket it made me look like a gunslinger out of a western, while Keisha sought to guide me towards a higher peaked hat of stiffer material. It would be important, she suggested, to further cultivate a static image. In the end we settled for a beautiful black felt western style hat, with a sharp peak at the front, and a dulled silver band. The brim was a little less wide than what I would have liked, to make sure that people would still be able to see my face, both of the ladies argued.

I was shocked to find after the hat selection had been completed that it was already just past 13:00. "Damn!" I exclaimed. "I've got to go! I need to meet Cindy soon."

Keisha frowned. "We still need to get your accessories sorted."

"Accessories? What accessories?"

"Belt, watch, necklace, wrist-band and possibly rings." She replied coolly.

It was my turn to frown. "I've got strict orders from Cindy to appear on campus. Something to do with getting the teachers onto my side I think. Do you really need me for the accessories? Erica has my hip-width for the belt, I have a pocket watch I prefer, I generally don't like things on my wrist anyway, and I think a necklace and rings would just be ostentatious don't you?"

"Perhaps," Keisha assented. "But I'd still like to try them out to see. I guess I'll do my best without you."

I moved to remove the clothes I wore, but Keisha motioned me to keep on everything but the jacket. "You want to look your best for the teachers. Leave your old clothes with me. You'll have to wear your current belt, but I'll bring you all the rest tonight. The pants will also need to be fixed, but I'll bring them by tomorrow morning?" She directed the question to Erica who nodded in agreement. "But leave me your pocket watch. I'll have it polished and get a better chain for it. The one you have is slightly rusted."

Not wanting to be late for Cindy I agreed. We left the dressing room to pay. Erica took my credit card, and returned a couple of moments later with the paid bill. I took a quick glance at it, and almost dropped the little piece of paper. Compared to the money I would unthinkingly hand out later it was nothing, but simply the fact that it was a four-figure number let my jaw drop. I doubt all of the clothes I had worn since coming out of diapers would have cost that much. But it was paid. Erica tried to hand me the credit card as well, but Keisha snapped it up first. I was ready to protest immediately, but Keisha interrupted me before I said a word. "If I'm doing your accessories I'll have to pay for them somehow."

I made it to the campus square just before the clock tower chimed two, and quickly located Cindy, waiting patiently for me under the tree she had picked me up from the last time. We enjoyed a long kiss before she held me out at arms length to admire Keisha's work. She was generally admiring, though she also voiced the concern that it might appear too rich for an average student to connect with. "Something for Abby and Keisha to discuss." She muttered to herself.

Without much further ado she led me away and into the building housing the faculty of politics. As we walked briskly through the hallways she told me, "We're going to talk to your professor, the one whose class I came along to last time. I figured she'd be the best start for you, even if she's probably not the most powerful professor here." I gave a little snort of laughter. Professor Lex may not have appeared to lead our department, but if you knew to look for the signs it was apparent that only rarely did something happen against her will. She did not actually have an administrative title, or any formal powers invested in her - she had far too little seniority for that - but whenever she spoke the others listened, and whether through a gift of the gab, enough blackmail material, or simply her winning personality (no straight man would have been willing to deny that), Professor Lex was always able to get her way. I suppose it was only natural for a politics department to be run from behind the scenes, with willing patsies out front.

"When we're there, our aim is to get at least her and her friends to support your candidacy, not openly of course, since teachers traditionally don't interfere in student elections, but she can help us subtly behind the scenes." Cindy continued. "It may be best for you to speak to her, but I'll start off at least. It was after all me who arranged to meet with her this morning."

"She's in the office on a Sunday?" I asked skeptical.

"Only because it's you - and possibly because I arranged it. I told her who I was on the phone. She became quickly interested then."

"Oh." was the only reply I had time to give before she hustled me along the corridor and into professor Lex's office. My teacher looked up from a stack of papers, a thin-mouthed expression on her face. She was wearing less formal wear than usual, possibly because it was the weekend. A light blue top smushed her breasts together and a low neckline gave a tantalising view of her cleavage. When she stood and rounded her table to shake our hands I saw that she had on some casual jeans as well, and a pair of trainers for shoes.

"So why are we here?" She asked peremptorily, arching an eyebrow at Cindy after she had invited us to sit and leaned back against her table, folding her arms under her breasts, thereby further increasing their lift just slightly.

Cindy explained in broad strokes the plan that had been worked out by my councillors the previous day. She highlighted the importance of support from the teachers, subtly only of course, to both help whip up votes in the student body, and permit those with more active engagements, particularly me, much increased leniency concerning our education.

Professor Lex pursed her lips at this, and shifted her gaze to me. "Active politics?" She asked quietly, perhaps the slightest hint of disapproval in her voice. "I thought you understood the separation between active and intellectual politics."

"Let the doers do, while the puppets sing." I quoted her from one of the first lectures I had had with her. "I remember. And..." I hesitated shooting a wary look at Cindy, "in all honesty none of this was my idea in the first place making me - I suppose - a puppet." Cindy gave a choking noise of protest, but I went on hastily, "but consider, professor: a puppet that can dance a dance unknown to him who holds the strings, perhaps even to a tune the puppeteer has never heard. Such a puppet could take what ideas he already has and what ideas are given him and put them into practice, the culmination of our scientific method: the testing of a hypothesis in practice."

I fell silent again, letting professor Lex think about it. She did so, considering both Cindy and me by turns. Finally she gave a curt shake of her head. "You make good arguments, and I am almost convinced. But you," she pointed an accusatory finger at me, "are my best student. I will not allow you to go off gallivanting as a petty political figure in student politics when I need you in my classes to challenge me and inspire the other students."