After your world fell into black putrefaction, you soon realize that walkers are the least of your worries. Tragedy and loss has led you to fear attachment more so than the undead. You thought hiking the trail of survival was best accomplished alone...
You hated a lot of things. Being humiliated, falsely accused, and caged were just a few items on that extensive list. Negan had successfully checked those boxes. But there was one thing you never had patience for: acting your gender. Being girly was never a part of your nature.
Before the outbreak, you lived in a household where your mother would scold you for not wearing dresses on special occasions. "Why don't you throw on some makeup once in a while!" she'd reprimand you. "Why don't you get some girlfriends? Why don't you try out for the cheer squad? Why don't you wear an actual bra, for a change, and throw out those sports bras? Why, why, why?" Her nagging drove you to rebellious lengths--from wearing jeans to a wedding to shooting some cans with your father at the rifle range to engaging in drag races with the guys at school. You truly were just one of the boys, and you loved it.
But now...you were being led to a wardrobe crammed with silky nighties, sheer panties, and lacy bras. Other dressers were stuffed in this room, which lay between the lounge area (where you arrived with Negan) and the shower room. They must've utilized the area as a giant walk-in closet. It looked like a porn-star's dressing room. And this Nicole chick was absolutely determined to dress you up like Booty-Call-Barbie.
Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
"Take your pick!" she cheered, and she pulled open the doors of the cherry-wood wardrobe. You've got to be joking, you thought as you stood awestruck in front of the mess of frills and lace.
"Um...where did all this come from?" you inquired. The provocative variety seemed endless!
"Negan," she crooned. "He went on countless supply runs to the outlet malls. Everything we request, he delivers!" Nicole sounded quite spritely. Her baby blues held no hint of darkness. You were starting to wonder if she was even aware that the world was swarming with the undead. She didn't seem to care about the frightening things that crept outside the compound. "Judging by your skin tone, I think you'd look stunning in turquoise," she added as she picked through the pile of undergarments.
You cleared your throat, not quite knowing how to make conversation. "So, how long have you been here?" you asked.
"Six months," she answered as she bent over, looking for nylons. You couldn't help but notice her soft, milk and honey skin. No scars, no bruises, no burns...
"And before that?" you inquired.
"I worked in the kitchen at the Hilltop Community. That's another place Negan owns."
"Owns?" you responded without thinking. As much as you wanted to be courteous, you had to pry. "So, this is just his home-base, so to speak?"
Nicole clearly didn't hear your question with her head stuffed in the wardrobe. She tossed a few silky garments at you, and you caught the lacy, turquoise material. "Could you strip for me? I need to check your bra size," she said, spinning around like a ballerina and facing you.
