#actprep55

 These damn capitolites eat this shit up. Bash creeps back into my space, a hand caressing my hip and pulling me flush against his body.

“I’m quite impressed,” he says into my ear. “You’ve got quite a few tricks for someone your age.”

I lean into his touch, letting my hand travel up his shirt and over his stomach.

“Yeah?” I ask. “Well if you want to see more of what I can do…”

I scratch at his stomach hard and make him shout, pushing him back hard enough to make him stumble.

“…You won’t bring my age up again.” I wink.

While Bash examines his pretty scratch marks, I pull my shirt over my head and head out of the room. The train is all but abandoned, save for a couple of Avox who are cleaning it. Guess there was no greeting the crowd together planned. Of course, there probably was, but I had the escort a little…occupied. 

“Where the hell am I supposed to go?” I shout over my shoulder.

“You should have thought about that before you maimed me.” Bash snaps.  

He joins me in the hallway, gently rubbing his stomach through his shirt.

“I thought you said you were into rough play?” I tease.

Bash glares at me as he points down the hall.

“Shut up and get out of the train, your stylist gets pissy if she’s kept waiting.” He grumbles.

“She, huh? This should be fun.”

When an Avox sees Bash and I approaching he quickly opens the door, letting in the full resonance of how loud the audience gathered outside really is. I flinch slightly at the sudden screaming of my appearance.

The only time I’m not okay with someone screaming my name... I think to myself.

I’m shuffled down the small aisle created me for to get to the training center, peacekeepers on every side of me. I’m not sure if they’re here to make sure no one tries touching me, or to keep me from trying to run. I sigh in relief when the noise level drops to almost nothing as the doors close behind me. It takes me a moment to realize Bash is going a different direction than me.

“Going to treat your wounds, baby? It’s okay, not everyone can handle me.” I taunt him.

He flips me off before disappearing around a corner, leaving me to be escorted somewhere else with the peacekeepers. We stop in front of a solid metal door and one of them knocks twice before opening it and pulling me through.

“Hey fuckheads, I can walk myself thanks.” I shout at them before the door closes.

I glare at the door before turning around and realizing I’m not actually alone. There’s three beautiful women sitting on the other side of the room, one of them holding a notepad that she’s beating a pen against.

“Well shit,” I whisper. “Today’s my lucky day.”

“Not likely,” the middle one says. Her blonde hair is in big, bouncy curls that cascade down her shoulders. “Strip.”

I smirk at her, my hand sneaking under the front of my shirt and pulling it up slowly.

“What do I get out of it, baby?” I ask.

She gives me an unamused smile before turning to the other blonde of the trio. 

“Aislinn? Care to give him his reward?” She asks.

“I’d love to, Amity.” She responds, standing up and strutting toward me.

There’s an accent I’m not used to. It sounds proper, much different from the average capitol drawl. She places her hand over mine, her fingers trailing across my stomach while she smiles at me. I lean in to try and kiss her, but in a swift motion, she’s pulling my shirt over my head and throwing me into a wall. I grunt hard when my shoulder collides with the stone wall, a dull pain already beginning to ache.

“Bitch, it’s illegal to hurt the tributes before the games begin!” I snap.

“It’s only illegal if they find out,” Aislinn says. “Now take your pants off, unless you want me to do that for you as well?”

“Oh please do, I bet it’d be hilarious.” The third woman says.

“He has a nice torso,” Amity says. “Amaris, alter the top to show it off. Not a lot, but enough to give the crowd a peak.”

“Roger that.” The redhead says, her tongue darting out as she sketches on her pad.

So they’re my stylist team, here to make me look pretty or some shit.

“Ahem,” Aislinn clears her throat. “Pants, boy.”

“You just wanna see my dick.” I smirk, unbuttoning my pants before she tries manhandling me again.

It was kind of hot, though, not gonna lie.

“I’ve probably seen bigger. We’ll talk when you’re a real man.”

“I’ll show you real man.” I mumble under my breath, pulling my jeans down.

Amity gives me a once over, nodding to herself and pointing something out to Amaris on the pad.

“Do the same for the pants,” she says. “This one actually has a good build to him. The audience will go crazy for it.”

“You think the female tribute is similar body wise? We’re supposed to coordinate with the other stylist, right?” Amaris asks.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Amity says.

Oh good, something we agree on.

“Alright, I think I’ve seen everything I need to. Let’s keep the tattoos visible, they’re somewhat thought out and don’t look generic.” She comments.

“Hey fuck you.” I scowl.

“Not even on your birthday, if you make it that far. Amaris, I trust you’ll be able to do his makeup minimally? A body shimmer for the light, some dark eyes. Keep his lips natural, though.”

“I didn’t agree to makeup-”

“I didn’t ask what you agreed to, tribute.” Amity snaps.

“How are we doing his hair?” Aislinn asks.

“I’ll do it. It’s curly, but it’s not too long which is good. I’ll probably just give him a Mohawk of some sort, no cutting needed. Alright, Amaris and I are gonna start on the alterations, Aislinn I trust you’re okay here?” Amity asks.

“Of course I am, this’ll be fun. Especially if he resists a lot.”

I try to hide the gulp, but it doesn’t seem like it works by the look Amaris gives me.

“Perfect, see you in fifteen.” She says. “Good luck!”

Amity and Amaris step out of the room, wheeling in a small cart before closing the door, leaving me in the room with Aislinn.

“What’s wrong baby, don’t like an audience?” I tease.

Aislinn tilts her head to the side and smiles big at me, lifting a silver lid up to reveal all the elements for a waxing session.

“I didn’t think you’d want an audience for this.” She says, picking up a large wooden flat stick and dipping it into some hot wax.

Oh yeah, there’s total shrinkage happening right now.

“Fuck me.” I say.

“Not today,” Aislinn says. “Now take your underwear off, baby. It’s your turn to scream.”