Cross-dressing Difficulties
How is it? was written all over the girl’s face, and Erich and Mika struggled to react.
“It’s—well...”
“Yeah, I think so too...”
“Think what?!” Cecilia asked excitedly.
Alas, the pair’s response was one and the same: “You look too cute.”
The context as to why was a bit too convoluted to explore in detail, but in summary, Cecilia was in the middle of attempting to dress up as a man. While dressing in unremarkable clothing was a given for anyone on the lam, disguising one’s most defining features was even more effective when avoiding close scrutiny.
Dyed hair, different makeup, and unfamiliar clothing were staples of this sort of thing, but the best veil of all was that of gender. Admittedly, changing one’s race in the multicultural Empire would probably be the most foolproof trick, but unfortunately those spells were too difficult for a magus-in-training and a pseudo-mage addicted to practicality.
Altering the flesh was one of the most difficult pursuits in magecraft. Irreversible changes were quite easy—though generally, people called these “accidents” or “attacks”—but making sure to preserve the target’s original form for later reversion was laborious. Obviously, they would have liked to turn this black-haired beauty into a hulking orc man over two meters tall; then they’d be able to triumphantly walk any street in the capital. Alas, that was too unrealistic, and they had to settle for the next best thing.
As a result, Cecilia had tried on a set of Erich’s clothes to pass off as a boy, only for the outcome to be less than ideal. The shirt was too baggy, as were the pants, and worst of all, his belt had been too big to buckle, forcing them to tighten her hips with a piece of string. Erich was significantly smaller than an average mensch man, and yet it was still immediately apparent that she was a girl in men’s clothing.
“No good?” the vampire asked.
“Unfortunately not,” the mensch answered.
Oddly enough, Cecilia had been confident her first attempt at cross-dressing would go well, and she hung her head sadly. While the other two felt bad, it was better to tell her the truth and hurt her feelings than have her go outside looking like this.
“Dang,” Erich said, “what now?”
“Hmm,” Mika groaned. “I think it might be easier to obscure her body with a robe, and we’ll need to stuff it a bit so she doesn’t look so slender.”
“Then I guess the only way to fix her face will be to stuff cotton in her cheeks. I don’t think makeup will cut it here.”
The pair tossed ideas back and forth, experimenting on Cecilia like a dress up doll. Magus-like robes were perfect for not sticking out in the underground, but they still had tons of other issues to solve.
First and foremost, her chest was too blatantly feminine; Erich stepped out for a moment while Mika and Elisa squished it flat with some cloth. Cecilia found the wrapping quite painful—despite being a noble lady, her monastic life had given her no experience wearing corsets—but it bound her bust enough to introduce uncertainty to her silhouette.
There was still much work to be done, but they were running out of time. Mika tearfully bid them farewell; the rest was up to Erich in the short while they had left. He fashioned shoulder pads out of some rags, gave her cotton to alter her jawline, and, in spite of his unfamiliarity with makeup, touched up her face to draw out more masculine traits. Combined, his efforts made it difficult to tell if she was a boyish girl or a girly boy.
Alas, her hair was an unsolvable problem. Erich had long hair too, but his features were still masculine enough—though more effeminate than most—that someone looking closely would be able to mark him as a boy. Cecilia’s imperfect cross-dressing paired with her long hair was sure to leave a markedly feminine impression.
“...I know just what to do!”
The closer her reflection became to that of a boy’s, the more fun Cecilia had. Realizing that there was only one element left holding her back from perfection, the young lady acted with great alacrity.
Erich instantly got a bad feeling from what she’d said, but it was too late. She snatched up the dagger he’d been using to cut the rags...
“I ought to have my hair cut if I’m to pass off as a boy!”
...and lopped off her hair with zero hesitation.
The young lady could not comprehend the meaning behind the boy’s echoing scream, and she would go on blissfully unaware about the terrible guilt he would continue to shoulder.
[Tips] The Empire does not look down on men with long hair, but shorter styles are almost always seen as manlier.
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