Categories > Anime/Manga > Weiss Kreuz
Not by Halves: Crawford
Contains a reverse strip-tease, cross-dressing, voyerism, masturbation. The second in a series (in the looset sense of the word) of WK character cross-dressing fics. Crawford/Schuldig
?Blocked
Crawford was such a perfectionist; no matter how small the thing, it had to be done properly. Watching him work was sometimes like watching a particularly well choreographed dance; you forgot how much planning and forethought went into it, lost in awe over the precision, the seemingly effortless way that things flowed together and clicked into place.
It was why Schuldig always watched this particular process whenever he could. Crawford had gotten used to him a long time ago and barely paid him any attention at all as he toweled off the last of the water from his shower, dropping the towel into the hamper when he was done. So Schuldig made himself comfortable on the end of the bed, leaning back on his hands and letting his legs fall open; he knew from past experience that he'd end up with his legs open anyway, so it was easier just to start that way.
Crawford had laid out the clothes he would be wearing before he'd gone into the bathroom, hanging them over the back of the chair, ordering them so that what he would put on first was on top of the small pile. They were a practical pair of black briefs, specifically designed for this sort of thing with a panel at the front to aid with the 'tuck'. It looked uncomfortable, pulling your cock and balls between your legs to hide them there. In fact, it was; Schuldig had tried once out of curiosity and had lasted all of five minutes before declaring that he much preferred his tackle free and swinging, thanks, and had gone commando all the rest of that week to prove his point.
With the briefs on, next came the bra; again specially designed with the cups already housing perfectly formed breasts that Crawford spent a few minutes adjusting to make sure they sat at the right height. Once he was satisfied he picked up the pair of sheer, taupe stockings and sat down beside Schuldig to put them on.
"Having fun?" Crawford asked him mildly and Schuldig leered, but only because it was expected. Crawford had shaved, so the stockings slid smoothly up his legs. He made sure the hems were straight, fussing with them for several moments, before standing back up to slide the garter belt on and attach the little clips to the top of the stockings, adjusting the straps so that everything sat comfortably.
Schuldig could understand why Crawford wore the corset that he picked up next, but he still thought it looked like some kind of medieval torture device. The stiff material that fit snugly around Crawford's waist, from the bottom of his ribs to the top of his hips, pulled in his waist enough to give him a gentle curve and the impression of more feminine hips. Over everything went a simple black chemise that served the purpose of disguising the lines of his undergarments.
This was the point where it stopped being about watching Crawford get dressed and started being about watching Crawford get /dressed/. Schuldig could feel his cock stiffening, a slow warm pulse at his groin. He palmed himself through his slacks and smirked when Crawford sniffed but otherwise ignored him. The black skirt came next, sliding up over long legs. It fit snugly at the waist, and hugged the artificial curve of his hips and the top of his all natural ass, but hung loosely after that to just below Crawford's knees, falling into gentle folds.
Then the dove grey turtle neck which was slightly ribbed in texture; its long sleeves softened the musculature of Crawford's arms and high neck neatly disguised the protrusion of his larynx. Over that went a snugly fitted vest-like blouse, black to match the skirt, sleeveless and gathered at the waist to emphasis what was now a nicely shaped figure. Crawford was gradually being subsumed by this elegant, self-possessed creature; the kind of woman who could walk into a room and command it, just by being there.
The clothing was done, but the transformation was far from finished. Schuldig hopped off the bed and eagerly followed Crawford into the bathroom to watch the rest of the transition. Off came the glasses and in went clear little contacts which made Crawford blink impatiently until his eyes stopped watering. From the array of products on the bathroom counter he selected a compact, flipping it open and picking up a little of the powder inside on a puff, carefully covering his face with it.
A second container with a light pink blush, and a third with a charcoal grey and a silver that shimmered were used one after the other. Crawford smudged the eye shadow onto his lids carefully, not wanting to get anything into his eyes and irritate the contacts. Then mascara to thicken and darken his lashes, a pencil to shape the line of his eyebrows, and a quick swipe across his lips with a deep cherry red gloss. Even with his own short hair Crawford looked nothing like himself anymore.
Crawford cleaned the counter and the brushes he had used to apply things, caring for these tools as efficiently as he did his guns. When he was finished it was back out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Schuldig hummed contently, spreading himself out on the bed and starting to take note of his erection with a more purposeful interest. But not yet, it wasn't quite done.
He watched Crawford slick his own hair down and fit a wig over it. Loose black curls now brushed the tops of his shoulders and framed his face and even this had a purpose, distracting from his slightly too-broad shoulders and square jaw. He tucked a few curls behind his ears and slid, one foot after the other, into a pair of heeled black shoes that lifted him onto his toes and forced the muscles of his legs into a different shape, working to disguise the naturally masculine musculature.
Now it was done. Crawford was gone and a stunning woman stood in his place and Schuldig moaned and stuck his hand down his pants, knowing Crawford was going to watch him jerk off, fast and rough. He arched off the bed, coming hard, not caring about the sticky wetness that spread across the front of his pants. Crawford sighed at him long-sufferingly, a hand on one cocked hip, and Schuldig grinned unapologetically.
"One of these days you have to let me talk you into fucking me while you're dressed like that. With a strap-on." he added, because really, why ruin the fantasy?
It was why Schuldig always watched this particular process whenever he could. Crawford had gotten used to him a long time ago and barely paid him any attention at all as he toweled off the last of the water from his shower, dropping the towel into the hamper when he was done. So Schuldig made himself comfortable on the end of the bed, leaning back on his hands and letting his legs fall open; he knew from past experience that he'd end up with his legs open anyway, so it was easier just to start that way.
Crawford had laid out the clothes he would be wearing before he'd gone into the bathroom, hanging them over the back of the chair, ordering them so that what he would put on first was on top of the small pile. They were a practical pair of black briefs, specifically designed for this sort of thing with a panel at the front to aid with the 'tuck'. It looked uncomfortable, pulling your cock and balls between your legs to hide them there. In fact, it was; Schuldig had tried once out of curiosity and had lasted all of five minutes before declaring that he much preferred his tackle free and swinging, thanks, and had gone commando all the rest of that week to prove his point.
With the briefs on, next came the bra; again specially designed with the cups already housing perfectly formed breasts that Crawford spent a few minutes adjusting to make sure they sat at the right height. Once he was satisfied he picked up the pair of sheer, taupe stockings and sat down beside Schuldig to put them on.
"Having fun?" Crawford asked him mildly and Schuldig leered, but only because it was expected. Crawford had shaved, so the stockings slid smoothly up his legs. He made sure the hems were straight, fussing with them for several moments, before standing back up to slide the garter belt on and attach the little clips to the top of the stockings, adjusting the straps so that everything sat comfortably.
Schuldig could understand why Crawford wore the corset that he picked up next, but he still thought it looked like some kind of medieval torture device. The stiff material that fit snugly around Crawford's waist, from the bottom of his ribs to the top of his hips, pulled in his waist enough to give him a gentle curve and the impression of more feminine hips. Over everything went a simple black chemise that served the purpose of disguising the lines of his undergarments.
This was the point where it stopped being about watching Crawford get dressed and started being about watching Crawford get /dressed/. Schuldig could feel his cock stiffening, a slow warm pulse at his groin. He palmed himself through his slacks and smirked when Crawford sniffed but otherwise ignored him. The black skirt came next, sliding up over long legs. It fit snugly at the waist, and hugged the artificial curve of his hips and the top of his all natural ass, but hung loosely after that to just below Crawford's knees, falling into gentle folds.
Then the dove grey turtle neck which was slightly ribbed in texture; its long sleeves softened the musculature of Crawford's arms and high neck neatly disguised the protrusion of his larynx. Over that went a snugly fitted vest-like blouse, black to match the skirt, sleeveless and gathered at the waist to emphasis what was now a nicely shaped figure. Crawford was gradually being subsumed by this elegant, self-possessed creature; the kind of woman who could walk into a room and command it, just by being there.
The clothing was done, but the transformation was far from finished. Schuldig hopped off the bed and eagerly followed Crawford into the bathroom to watch the rest of the transition. Off came the glasses and in went clear little contacts which made Crawford blink impatiently until his eyes stopped watering. From the array of products on the bathroom counter he selected a compact, flipping it open and picking up a little of the powder inside on a puff, carefully covering his face with it.
A second container with a light pink blush, and a third with a charcoal grey and a silver that shimmered were used one after the other. Crawford smudged the eye shadow onto his lids carefully, not wanting to get anything into his eyes and irritate the contacts. Then mascara to thicken and darken his lashes, a pencil to shape the line of his eyebrows, and a quick swipe across his lips with a deep cherry red gloss. Even with his own short hair Crawford looked nothing like himself anymore.
Crawford cleaned the counter and the brushes he had used to apply things, caring for these tools as efficiently as he did his guns. When he was finished it was back out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Schuldig hummed contently, spreading himself out on the bed and starting to take note of his erection with a more purposeful interest. But not yet, it wasn't quite done.
He watched Crawford slick his own hair down and fit a wig over it. Loose black curls now brushed the tops of his shoulders and framed his face and even this had a purpose, distracting from his slightly too-broad shoulders and square jaw. He tucked a few curls behind his ears and slid, one foot after the other, into a pair of heeled black shoes that lifted him onto his toes and forced the muscles of his legs into a different shape, working to disguise the naturally masculine musculature.
Now it was done. Crawford was gone and a stunning woman stood in his place and Schuldig moaned and stuck his hand down his pants, knowing Crawford was going to watch him jerk off, fast and rough. He arched off the bed, coming hard, not caring about the sticky wetness that spread across the front of his pants. Crawford sighed at him long-sufferingly, a hand on one cocked hip, and Schuldig grinned unapologetically.
"One of these days you have to let me talk you into fucking me while you're dressed like that. With a strap-on." he added, because really, why ruin the fantasy?
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