Disclaimer: Not mine, I just borrowed them but I have returned them unscathed.
Author’s Note: I was supposed to be working on a special project but I could not concentrate because a conversation we had today during my mother’s birthday lunch kept begging to be turned in to a Lancer ficlet.
Author’s note 2: I’m mean to Teresa…again…but I hardly think that would surprise anyone that knows me. Be aware portions of this story deals with the womanly affliction…if that embarrasses you stop reading now.
~*~ L ~*~ A ~*~ N ~*~ C ~*~ E ~*~ R ~*~
Teresa O’Brien slung the kitchen door open and stomped in the room and slammed it shut, complaining bitterly to the four walls of the empty house. She had felt ill and out of sorts for the past two days, a trip to the outhouse had just revealed the reason for her surly attitude and impatience with everyone. Sometimes she really did hate being a female, not only did they have stricter social standards to follow but they were cursed once a month with this stupid ‘woman’s condition’. It was bad enough she had to worry about leaking and staining her clothes, but she also had to contend with tender breasts, gas and cramps! Not to mention she craved sweets which she felt the need to devour in private; convinced that if no one saw her eating it then she wouldn’t gain weight. The folded strips of cotton cloth she had to wear for the condition made her walk funny; she felt like she waddled as they bunched and moved between her thighs. She really despised that feeling, that’s why she was headed upstairs to put on her tan pants; they would at least hold things in place.
Entering her room, Teresa crossed to her dresser and pulled the pants out and threw them on her bed. She shucked her skirt, dropping it and her underwear in her laundry basket. She slipped on clean drawers and adjusted her protection, and then sat down on her mattress as she wiggled in to her pants. That was another thing she loathed about this time, the bloating that made her clothes feel too tight and the endless trips to the outhouse to urinate. Finally, after much gyrating and tugging she got the britches pulled up. Sucking in her stomach she managed to get the placket pulled together and buttoned before she passed out from lack of air. She frowned as she examined herself in the mirror, the pants really did look too small and accentuated every bump and bulge…but she could hide that by wearing her apron until bedtime.
Descending the stairs after changing she arrived back in the kitchen and glanced about looking for her apron. She spied it on the counter next to the cake plate. As she reached to pick it up the last slice of chocolate cake whispered to her seductively. She tried to ignore it as she tied her apron on, but the whisper changed to a hypnotic chant. She knew she really shouldn’t eat the cake, if she were to be truthful to herself she knew it wasn’t just her tan britches that didn’t fit right anymore, it was all of her pants. She also knew it was Johnny’s favorite and he would be looking to enjoy it with a tall glass of cold milk…then she thought about how he could eat anything and not gain an ounce, not to mention he had gotten on her last nerve this morning. An evil and stingy smirk contorted her mouth as she laid the last slice on a plate and poured a glass of tea. She decided to eat her snack on the front porch where it was cool. Passing through the foyer to the front door she stopped in front of the mirror in the foyer stand to inspect how she looked wearing the apron over her pants. She thought she looked fine from the front, and she twisted around trying to get a good view of her backside.
As Teresa scrutinized her shape, Johnny quietly opened the kitchen door a crack and peered in to make sure Teresa was nowhere around. He grinned when he saw no sign of her. He had no desire to run in to her as moody as she had been all morning. She acted madder than a bee stung grizzly at lunch prompting the Lancer men to eat and run. Now, Johnny was hungry and he intended to get the last slice of cake to tide him over until supper. Tip toeing across the tile floor, he grimaced at the light jingle of his spurs, the short walk to the counter seemed ten miles long as he concentrated on being stealthy. He moaned and he was pretty sure he heard his stomach groan when he found the cake plate empty. /Damn… I rushed to finish my assigned chores and be the first one home for nothing. I bet Teresa got it, it just the mean kind of thing she does when she’s feeling bitchy./
Disgruntled at missing out on his sweet treat, Johnny grabbed a handful of cookies. No longer attempting to be quiet he decided to head to the front porch where it was cool to eat them. He crunched his cookies as he walked not caring he was leaving a trail of crumbs, Teresa was gonna complain about something anyway, so he might as well give her a reason to.
Arriving in the foyer, he was startled to find Teresa twisting, turning, bending and contorting herself in front of the mirror in the foyer stand. She looked so ridiculous he snorted and choked on cookie crumbs, when he coughed to dislodge them he alerted Teresa to his presence. As she turned to the side to face him, he saw she had the last slice of cake on the plate she carried in one hand. His eyes narrowed as realized he had just missed out on the cake by mere minutes. Before she could notice he was leaving a crumb trail, Johnny brought the attention to her actions.
“What in the world are you doing, Teresa?”
“I was trying to see if this apron looked all right worn over pants.”
Not swallowing her story for one second, Johnny grinned evilly, “If that’s the case you were turned the wrong way, the apron is hanging down your front not your backside.”
“Johnny, if I ask you a serious question, do you promise not to laugh at me?”
“I don’t know why I would laugh, if it’s really a serious question.”
“Do you think these pants make my butt look too big?” she inquired as she turned around and offered up her behind for inspection.
Johnny’s eyes gleamed. He could barely keep the smirk from his face as he pretended to give her form the once over. He knew he should be kind but damn it all he wanted that slice of cake and besides she was gonna be swinging like a clock pendulum for one mood to another for the next few days if his suspicions were right anyway. “Nope, those pants don’t make your butt look big, it’s them extra helpings and in between meal snacks that does that.”
Teresa’s mouth dropped open and her face turned red with rage. “Pig,” she shrieked as she pushed her plate with the cake and her glass of tea in his hands, spilling a bit on his shirt and causing him to drop his remaining cookies. She stormed off, stomping loudly up the stairs headed for her room.
Johnny snickered, pleased his plan had worked and he now had the last bit of cake. He strolled out to the porch and sat down and enjoyed his snack in the cool and quiet. If the Lancer men were lucky Teresa would stay in her room the rest of the day pouting. Life was good, especially when you got to eat the last slice of cake.
The End
Southernfrau
March 1, 2009