Moaning, holding his head, and feeling a deep-self pity. Jason Manford sat in the police cell. Caught, bang to rights, for his drunken petty crime. He knew he'd have a tale to tell, once this was over. A bargaining chip to use against all the rest who'd fled, and left him.
Sitting up, he looked at the grotty sink in the corner. Unsure if his thirst was pressing enough to risk a drink from that tap. As he shifted, earlier events came rushing back. Beneath his regular clothes, he was wearing lingerie. A direct provocation to the authorities. A protest of a type, the satin panties weren't tailored for the male physique. Nor was the matching cami-top serving any real purpose.
Sobering up at the realisation, he had to keep composed... composed and contrite. He had to get out without giving them an excuse to escalate things, and discover the hidden underwear. The punishment for that was the very thing he feared, the Fem solution. No lottery, no chance to keep 'Mr. Happy', instead a rush to the head of the queue, to receive the opposite.
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