Chapter Text
It really is a shame, Shran thinks, that no one is here to commend him for the bravery it takes for him to push the shop door open and step inside. Yeah, he glances around a bunch before he does to make sure nobody sees, and he may have been loitering a little too long to make sure nobody else is in there, but still. He did it.
Alright, it’s fucking stupid that it took him this long to do it in the first place. He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, and already he can feel that the skin is hot with a flustered blush beneath his hand.
“Hi, can I help you?”
He turns, meeting the eyes of the shopkeeper - ugh, he can’t remember her name, it’s something with a P maybe? - who looks politely interested. “I guess so. I mean, uh, yeah,” he adds, when she blinks with a look of polite confusion. Maybe he thinks her name starts with a P because she looks so damn polite.
“Wonderful,” she says anyway, because, polite. “Something for you, or perhaps a gift?”
Shran half-smiles, half-grimaces. “Uh… kinda both?”
Now she really looks confused. Shran sighs. “So, the thing is… I’ve heard you’ve got stuff you can wear… in the bedroom?”
Realization dawns in her eyes, and Shran kind of wants to die right there. “Of course, right this way. We’ll find something your…?” she trails off, expectant.
“Boyfriend,” Shran blurts, and fuck’s sake, he’s blushing already.
She smiles anyway, as if she finds his inability to act like a normal person vaguely charming instead of the absolute mortification it is. “Something your boyfriend will love.” She leads him past the racks of scarves and the shelves with neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants, through a curtained doorway and into a back room. She turns once they’re inside, hands folded in front of her. “Now then, was there something in particular you were looking for?”
Shran runs his hand through his hair. “Thing is, I was sort of hoping… well, I don’t really know about any of this stuff.” He waves a hand to the displays around this smaller room, eyes skipping over satin nightgowns, lacy bras and panties, things with so many straps and ties he doesn’t even know what body part they’re supposed to go on.
“That’s quite all right, I’m happy to lead you through,” she says. She takes his arm and leads him over to a little nook in the corner he hadn’t noticed; there’s a full-length mirror, a curtain that he guesses leads to another room, and a cushy armchair that she nudges him to sit in. “Now, when you thought about coming here, what were you envisioning? Something a little more practical, that you could wear day-to-day just to feel a bit more special? Or is this for a special event?”
“Well… I just thought, my - my boyfriend,” Shran stutters a bit, still in mild disbelief that he has one, “he likes to… compliment me, I guess? Try to make me feel, uh…”
“Like you’re handsome?” she suggests, and Shran nods.
“Yeah. So… I thought maybe I could surprise him with something, show him that y’know, I hear him. And I appreciate it.” Shran looks determinedly away, absolutely sure he’s flushed up to his ears by now.
“I think that sounds very nice, Shran,” she says kindly.
He blinks. “You know who I am?” And she was still this nice? Is the unspoken question behind it.
“Mmhmm,” she says, smiling and tucking a lock of gold hair into her scarf. “Small town.”
“Right,” he says awkwardly. “I, um…”
“It’s Prisu,” she says, and he laughs gratefully.
“Prisu. Nice to uh… actually meet you.”
“And you,” she says. “Now, for the lingerie - do you happen to know if there’s anything in particular your boyfriend likes?”
Shran shrugs. “We’ve never really talked about… well. He likes me in my workout clothes, I guess.”
Prisu raises an eyebrow, though Shran feels like it’s more in judgement of Tasnah rather than him - an odd feeling for sure. “Hmm. I’d say he either has a thing for your muscles, or you’re comfortable in your workout clothes and he likes that confidence. Maybe both.” She taps her finger against her lip. “I can work with that. Let me get a few things.”
She bustles around the room getting things off of shelves and racks, and Shran feels a little awkward just sitting there watching, but he also knows he’d be way more of a hindrance than a help if he got up.
Prisu returns with her arms full of things on dainty hangers or neatly folded in stacks, and slips by him to go through the curtain - looking past her, he can see a small changing room with a simple bench and another long mirror.
“Alright,” she says, ducking out again. “I’ve put a few things in there for you. I think they should be fairly self-explanatory as to how they go on, but do let me know if there’s anything I can help with, or if I should get you a different size..” She motions him in, and he gets up, unaccountably nervous. He draws the curtain aside and steps in, tugging it closed behind him.
She’s left him three things to start with, and he goes for the one on the hanger first, since it seems the most straightforward. It’s a short dress, or maybe a long shirt, made of a silvery satin material that his rough, scarred hands catch on.
He picks it up, and then realizes he can’t very well put it on over what he’s wearing. He sets it back on the rack, clattering a bit in his nervousness, and quickly kicks off his shoes, stripping out of his shirt and pants. He leaves his underwear on for now, one final barrier between him and this incredible awkwardness.
Taking the little slip of fabric back in hand, he bunches it up to pull it over his head, sticking his arms through the holes with some difficulty. Once he makes it that far it falls down in a whisper of silky fabric, and he smooths it down without thinking. It falls just to the point where it covers his ass, but he’s pretty sure if he moves at all he’d be flashing anyone nearby.
Shran takes a deep breath, then turns to the mirror. He’s surprised by how much he looks like him - it really is just him in a little dress thing. He twists to see the back, and even that much movement sets the tiny skirt fluttering, showing his black briefs. The back is… nonexistent, really. It scoops down from the shoulders, leaving his back bare until just over his hips.
It’s… fine. He looks surprisingly decent in it, even though he’d honestly thought his broad shoulders would look ridiculous in something like this. But he can’t imagine how he’d wear it for Tasnah. Get home early and put it on, then just… wait? Slip into the bathroom when they’re getting ready for bed? It just seems weird.
“Shran, are you doing okay?”
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Got, um, one of ‘em on.”
“What are your thoughts?” Prisu asks. “Good or bad, it’ll help us figure out what works for you.” It’s oddly calming, the straightforward way she asks.
“It fits pretty good,” Shran says, bending a little to see how it shifts. “It’s just… well, not exactly…”
“Not exactly what you were looking for?” she finishes. Shran nods, and then realizes she can’t see.
“Yeah. It’s the uh… silver one?”
“Mm, makes sense. I wasn’t sure satin would be for you, but it was worth a try,” she says. “I’d try another. If you don’t feel comfortable in it, it’ll be obvious when you wear it. You won’t be sexy if you don’t feel sexy.”
“Right,” Shran says, smiling to himself a little. It sounds like something Tasnah would say. He shimmies out of the dress - which is harder than getting it on, somehow - and hangs it back up. It doesn’t look as neat as when Prisu had done it, but at least he isn’t leaving it in a pile on the floor.
The next outfit is folded on the bench, and Shran picks it up, curious. It’s all a sheer pale blue fabric, and he sighs as he realizes it really does mean he has to lose his current underwear. He tugs them off, and then quickly tugs the new pair of panties on.
He was wearing boxer briefs, and these are close to the same fit, but with way less on the ass. And also they’re basically transparent. Yup, he can very clearly see his dick through them. Shran has to sit to put on the rest - long stockings of the same sheer fabric that go halfway up his thighs. They make his legs look very long and very smooth, except for places where his scars and leg hair make the fabric bunch awkwardly. It takes about two seconds for him to acknowledge that no, he is not committed enough to this concept to shave.
Shran shucks them and folds them as closely to how they had been as he can manage, setting them back on the bench. “Trying the last one,” he says, in case Prisu’s wondering. The remaining outfit is another set of panties and stockings, though instead of just the sheer fabric, these have black lace. Also, there’s some kind of belt thing.
He puts on the panties first, since those are straightforward enough. Then the stockings - these too go about halfway up his thighs, with a pretty lace pattern matching the panties. Then the belt - it takes some fumbling and muttered curses, but eventually he figures out how the strappy bits connect to the stockings, and straightens up to look in the mirror.
Wow, is his first thought, and then he flushes, embarrassed by himself. The stockings have the same effect on his legs as the previous ones did, but something about the texture of the lace makes it look less weird where it lies over the jagged edges of scars. And the panties… still semi transparent, obviously, but a little less… blatant, somehow? Thinking about Tasnah, and most particularly how he loves to tease, Shran thinks he’d like it. Maybe even love it. The belt, too - it makes his waist look especially trim, even with the pounds he’d put on since he started living with Tasnah.
“Shran? Doing okay in there?”
He jumps a bit, so lost in thoughts that Prisu’s soft voice startles him. “Yeah, yeah, fine. The lace ones? I - I like ‘em.”
“That’s wonderful, I’m glad you’ve found something,” she says, and Shran can hear the smile in her voice. “The size is okay? Nothing too tight, or straps hanging loose…?”
“I think it’s fine?” Shran says, though honestly he’s not sure how exactly it’s all supposed to fit.
“Do you want me to take a look, or are you all set?”
The thought of her taking a look makes Shran go red again. Not that he thinks she’d be weird about it - she’s been perfectly professional this whole time. No, he’d be the one to be weird about it. “No, I think it’s good,” he says with more confidence. He moves around a bit to check - stretching to touch his toes, leaning from side to side. Everything stays in place, nothing pulling or tugging too much, so he calls it good.
“Alright then, glad to hear it,” she says. “Is there anything else you want to try, or is that all?”
“I think that’s all,” Shran says, a little disbelieving. He’d actually done it.
“Perfect, why don’t you get dressed and I’ll wait for you at the register? Just leave the other things in there, I’ll put them back where they belong.”
“Sure, thanks,” Shran says, and hears her light footsteps crossing the room, the soft hush of the curtain between the back room and the front sliding open and then shut behind her.
He undresses in a daze, pulling off the lingerie with care and already kind of wishing he had it on again. Maybe he could have, he should have asked Prisu before she’d gone - but no, Tasnah would definitely notice if he was wearing it when he got home tonight, and it’s already kind of late. Shran wants it to be special, already guessing that Tasnah will need plenty of time to explore the outfit, more time than they’ll have tonight.
So he pulls his boring black boxer briefs back on, and his clothes. Scooping up his bundle of black lace, he makes his way back to the front, and the deities grant his fervent prayers by ensuring it’s just him and Prisu, still no other customers to see him and his purchase. Not that he’s ashamed or anything, but it seems like every damn person in this town is friendly with Tasnah, and the chances of someone spilling the beans early is way too high with any witnesses.
“Just so you’re aware, you can always bring it back here for sizing adjustments or repairs if you have any trouble later on,” Prisu says, scribbling down the details on a receipt after they’ve exchanged coin for neatly wrapped purchase. Shran’s relieved to see she’s put it in a nondescript bag, something Shran can easily tuck away without Tasnah noticing.
“Thanks,” he says, hesitating before he adds, “Really. I would’ve been totally lost.”
Prisu smiles, tucking the coins away into her register. “It was my pleasure. Let me know how it goes, hm? Or if your boyfriend ever wants to dress up for you, I hope you’ll tell him where to come.”
Shran grins, a lopsided effort that’s pretty out of practice, but it’s there. “Well, he might need some custom stuff. He’s, uh… big.”
“I can do custom orders,” Prisu says promptly, and it surprises a laugh out of Shran.
“I’ll tell him,” he promises. “Thanks again.”
“Thank you, and have a lovely evening,” Prisu says.
“You too,” Shran says, and surprises himself by actually meaning it.