Lady Lucia
patreon
The Flower Boy, Chapter Two
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 02:25:52 +0000 UTCSophie gave him ten seconds at best, interpreting her step-brother’s response in a more figurative manner. Why give him a full minute, when it was much more fun to surprise him? Either Sam was already wearing the dress, or still in the process of putting it on. If it was the former, amazing; otherwise, Sophie could double down about how he needed help.
To her annoyance, she wasn’t able to open the door and let herself in. Sophie was used to the doors at their own house, that didn’t lock from the inside. Apparently that was an option at their relatives’ place. “Sammie! Fiona wants to know it fits.” Technically true, though Sophie was more implying that someone had called upstairs and asked.
On the other side of the door, Sam was internally cursing to himself. The dress actually fit?! Mia was only twelve years old. Maybe she was tall for her age; Sam hadn’t seen her in quite some time. As he stood there and incredulously looked at himself in the mirror, he considered whether or not he could get away with claiming that the dress was too small to put on. “I said I need a minute!” he snapped, tensing up as he heard Sophie’s attempt to open the door. Sam remembered from his childhood how some locks at his friends’ houses could be loosened just by jiggling the doorknob roughly enough. As for the excuse, he knew it wouldn’t work. Both Sophie and the others would immediately suspect that he was trying to take the easy way out.
“You’ve had plenty of minutes!” Sophie retorted, “Open the door, Sammie. Everyone’s waiting. If you need help, I’ll help.”
“It’s ‘Sam,’” he said. As usual, only correcting the annoying nickname every now and then. Doing so more often would just make him sound whiny.
Rather than ignoring his insistence like she usually did, Sophie pushed back, using the current situation to her advantage. “It’s ‘Sammie’ as long as you act like a bratty little boy. Are you wearing the dress, or not?”
Sam hesitated. It had been easy to reject Sophie’s offer to help, since putting on the flower girl dress wasn’t complicated in the slightest. All he had to do was step in and pull it all the way up his body. He was less prepared for the yes/no question that left him a lot less wiggle room. Staying silent wouldn’t do him any favors; if anything, it would just hint at the truth. And if he said ‘no,’ they’d be right back to square one about how he needed help. “It doesn’t fit,” he said, splitting the difference.
Apparently that was enough. “But you’re wearing it?!” Sophie pressed. She wasn’t even trying to hide her excitement. “Open the door, Sammie.”
As badly as he didn’t want to, Sam could only delay the inevitable for so long. One way or another, he was going to have to prove that the dress ‘didn’t fit,’ and hiding in the bathroom wasn’t exactly a solution. Bracing himself for Sophie’s reaction, he said, “Fine.” Then he unlocked the door and allowed her to see him wearing a dress, taking some solace in how she didn’t have her phone to take a picture.
Her eyes immediately lit up. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. That’s as far as she got before bursting into a fit of giggles.
Unable to stop himself from blushing at what he more or less expected the bratty girl to be like upon laying eyes on him in the frilly thing, he scowled and said, “I’m changing.”
Catching her breath, still grinning from ear to ear, Sophie said, “What are you talking about, Sammie? It totally fits!” Before he had a chance to retreat into the bathroom and slam the door in her face, she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the stairs, “Come on, let’s go show Fiona!”
“Wait- No, it’s too tight-” He stumbled slightly, not used to moving at such a pace in a skirt that went past his knees. Telling Sophie to slow down would only lead to more teasing, so he just kept reaching for excuses, “I told you, it doesn’t fit. I can tell.” Sam had definitely put on clothes in the past that he had been able to get on his body but were too small to wear comfortably. This could be the same thing, and he wasn’t totally lying; the dress was a little tight around his waist.
“Uh huh. Because you know so much about girls’ clothes.” Sophie easily dismissed his claims. Sam was actually wearing the flower girl dress! There was no way she was going to let him off the hook that easily, especially since Fiona and their mother were the ones really in charge of all the important decisions where the wedding was concerned.
Nearly tripping as they reached the base of the stairs, Sam had to bite his tongue as they turned the corner. The whole point of this was to win brownie points with Michelle, and cursing out his younger sister wouldn’t do him any favors in that regard. Nor would a bad attitude, when he and Sophie had already been given ‘the talk’ about how everyone was expected to be on their best behavior this weekend.
Unlike Sophie, Fiona and Michelle didn’t laugh when they saw him in the childish dress. They looked more surprised than anything else, until Fiona said, “That . . . kind of works.”
“Told you,” Sophie said. She had flipped the ‘good sister/daughter’ switch, no longer sounding smug about Sam’s current image, “A little make-up, and he’ll look just like a girl.”
“What about his hair?” Fiona asked. That was easily Sam’s most boy-ish feature at the moment. The bride-to-be still didn’t look entirely convinced, though she was less skeptical than before Sam had changed.
“We could give Sammie a pixie cut,” Sophie said, “Or hair extensions, maybe?” She paused, then belatedly added a suggestion that was less involved. “I guess we could find a hair band that matches the dress if he doesn’t want us messing with his hair.” Something told her Fiona wouldn’t go for that, when it wasn’t part of the original vision.
Sam was frustrated enough that they were talking about him when he was standing right there, not once asking about his thoughts or opinions. Not that there was a point, when they could all probably guess what he would say. “The dress doesn’t even fit,” he blurted out. It wasn’t a good sign that they were already talking about a makeover, rather than about the dress itself, “It’s too tight.”
“Let me see,” Michelle said. She walked over and tested a few spots, particularly how the straps sat on his shoulders and if the waistband of the tulle skirt worked on his hips. “It’s actually a really good fit,” she said, stepping back, “I hear Mia has started developing; you may be a little bigger than her, but you don’t have the hips or breasts of a girl.”
Sophie snorted. “So it balances out?”
Their mother shot Sophie a look, which prompted the girl to apologize. Then she returned her attention to Sam. “It’s only embarrassing if you make it embarrassing,” she said, “And I agree with Fiona. This could actually work. Why don’t you let Sophie do your make-up, while we talk about your hair.”
“But-” Sam started to protest.
“Do you want the car upgrade, or not?” she firmly asked, then glanced towards the older sister, “Fiona, it’s your decision. Do you think Sam could be our flower girl?”
Fiona nodded. “It’s worth trying. Do you really think he could pass as a girl, Soph?”
Managing to keep a straight face, since she had just experienced how she couldn’t get away with making fun of Sam in front of the others, Sophie said, “Totally. You know I’m good with make-up! I’ll try to do something with his hair, too.”
Sam tried to speak up again, only to be shut down by Michelle. “Fiona’s in charge,” she insisted, “Fiona? Do you want Sam to be an usher, or the flower girl?”
Asking was so pointless, when everyone present knew that their options were a lot more limited for the latter. It was just another way to make it clear that Sam was outnumbered where this absurd yet potentially viable idea was concerned. “I want Sam to be the flower girl,” Fiona affirmed, “We can find someone else to usher.”
At that, Michelle gave Sam a look. End of discussion. Between the carrot of getting a better car, as well as the reminder about how this was Fiona’s weekend, there wasn’t anything he could say. Not without sounding immature and selfish, no matter how awkward this was. His step-mother had also said the thing about how it was only embarrassing if he let himself get embarrassed, so that argument was out as well.
“Let’s go, Sam!” Sophie said. Playing innocent, like she always did to avoid trouble, she used his preferred name and didn’t hold his hand like she had on the way downstairs. Now that her teasing idea was actually becoming a reality, she didn’t want to risk messing with a good thing. Not until Sam was officially the flower girl, which Sophie was determined to make happen with her make-up talents.
The only silver lining Sam could find as he reluctantly followed was that he didn’t have to deal with all three of them seeing him in a dress. For the time being, at least. And, while the dress fit him better than he had expected, he still wasn’t convinced that this idea was realistic. It didn’t matter how talented Sophie was when it came to make-up. Sam was a boy; there was no way anyone would believe he was the opposite gender, nor as young as Mia was, regardless of his size.
Sophie seemed to believe the exact opposite. She led him to the guest bedroom where she was staying, where she grabbed the desk chair and placed it near the center of the room. According to her, it was for better lighting. Sam didn’t know enough about make-up to call her on it, though he suspected she had purposely picked the most awkward spot for him to sit.
Rather than starting with his face, Sophie grabbed a handful of bobby pins from her bag. “Hold still, Sammie,” she instructed him, “These are to keep your hair out of the way.” A solid half-truth. It would be easier to give him a makeover if she had full access to his face. This just happened to double as a way to do something less boy-ish with his dirty blonde locks in the meantime.
She pinned his bangs first, then added a few to each side for good measure. Humming to herself as she worked, which was actually a habit while she focused rather than how Sam assumed she was being smug, Sophie stepped back to admire her handiwork. It was more like he was a ballerina, with his hair done up so it would stay in place regardless of his movements. Not at all how a flower girl would wear it, though it was better than nothing; every little bit counted when convincing Fiona that they could pull this off.
Sam just begrudgingly sat there and let her work. At this point, complaining wouldn’t do him any good. He also didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of reacting as she added more and more pins to his hair. The same held true for the make-up Sophie was about to get started on. Flinching, wincing, etc. would only amuse his sister. It was kind of a lose/lose, as doing as he was told was also not great, though there was a little dignity to sitting there and pretending like he didn’t care.
Grabbing her make-up supplies and setting them down on the edge of the bed, Sophie started with a brush that she would use for Sam’s foundation. It wasn’t as ideal of a set-up as a desk or a counter would be; she didn’t mind the inconvenience, as it was totally worth it to make him visible to anyone who walked by or stepped into the room. Their relatives weren’t currently home, but still. She had to assume wearing a dress meant every little sound would make Sammie nervous.
Tempting as it was to go for something dramatically feminine, Sophie’s goal wasn’t just to embarrass Sam in the short-term. A petite boy like him didn’t have many masculine lines to begin with and, after a few quick passes with the initial brush, she proceeded to soften those features. Her other goal was to make him look more youthful, which honestly didn’t take that much effort. The end result was a much more natural look, almost like he was a tween girl who didn’t wear any make-up.
Sophie took a few steps back, smirking at how convincing the image was. From a slight distance, Sam really did look like a girl, and that was from the perspective of someone who knew who he really was. As she approached him again, the only thing she noticed upon getting closer was that he was wearing make-up. Which was fine. After all, 6th grade was around the time she started experimenting with that.
There were some other details they’d have to take care of for this to work. Sam’s body hair, for starters. The little blonde hairs on his arm were practically invisible, but the rest? While he really didn’t have that much compared to the average boy, the cute wisps on his chest and in his armpits were more than a twelve year old girl would have. And though the tulle skirt mostly covered Sam’s lower half, it would be really funny if he was told to shave his legs anyway.
“That should do it!” Sophie exclaimed. Dusting off her hands for effect, she grabbed Sam’s wrist and tugged him back towards the hall. It would be best if the other two saw the finished product before Sam caught a glimpse of his reflection.
Sam felt the complete opposite. He had been sitting still for what had felt like thirty minutes as Sophie worked on his face, and he would have much preferred finding a mirror before being presented to Fiona and Michelle. When he tried to pull the other way towards the bathroom, however, Sophie tightened her grip.
“Bad girl!” she chastised him, “Don’t be a brat, Sammie. Everyone’s waiting on us.”
Groaning in annoyance, Sam allowed himself to be taken downstairs instead. Part of it was the same issue as before, where walking at a faster pace in the skirt was a bit of a tripping hazard. And there would probably be hell to pay if he ended up causing any damage to the dress.
As soon as they entered the living room, Sophie announced her completed ‘project.’ Smiling, barely managing to keep the expression from looking malicious, she said, “Well, what do you think? Is Samantha your flower girl?”
. . . Samantha?
Before Sam was able to express his distaste for the female version of his name, Fiona blurted out, “Holy shit.” She quickly apologized for the language, then said, “I barely recognize him, Soph.”
“You barely recognize her,” Sophie giggled, further mis-gendering him. Spinning it like she was looking out for him, she said, “I think Sammie should be a girl all weekend. Wouldn’t that be less embarrassing than everyone knowing that a boy his age is the flower girl?” With how he currently looked, it wasn’t that difficult to hint that he should be ‘twelve’ like Mia, rather than his eighteen year old self.
The crazy part was, Sophie’s idea was perfectly reasonable. If Sam was going to be the flower girl, which he was still in denial about, it made a lot more sense to keep anyone from finding out about it. Except his pride was immediately in conflict with the logic of his step-sister’s idea, not to mention how she obviously had the ulterior motive of making him deal with the awkwardness and humiliation of pretending to be a girl for the entirety of their stay.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Michelle nodded, “Should we go with Samantha, or a random name?”
“I like Samantha,” Fiona said, “Then ‘Sammie’ still works. It will be better if he responds naturally to his name.”
“Better if she responds,” Sophie corrected in a similar manner, “If Samantha is a girl this weekend, we should all get used to her gender.”
“WAIT.” Sam raised his voice, unable to take it any more. This was all happening too quickly. The three of them were making decisions that were not nearly as natural for him to process as the one who was being pushed into the new role and opposite gender. “I’m not a girl! This is crazy.”
Sophie bit her tongue. She really wanted to say something, but at this point it was better to let Fiona and their mom take over. Now that they had seen ‘Samantha’ and talked about it for a few seconds, she knew that it was more or less a done deal.
“No one said you were a girl,” Michelle pointed out, “We’re just going to let everyone think that. Think of this as a wedding gift to your sister. And next week, we’ll take you to get that car. Okay?”
“But-” he started, not sure what to say about how this was unfolding.
“This will literally save the wedding,” Fiona said, “And no one has to know it’s you. Please, Sam?”
As if it was up to him at this point. The older sister’s energy just sealed his fate in terms of gently nudging him away from another round of arguing.
When Sam didn’t push back, Michelle took his silence as reluctant agreement. “Samantha, then,” she said, “Let’s try and get used to that. Sophie, she’ll need some clothes for the weekend. Do you two want to run to the store? Samantha, go change out of your dress.”
