Seymour - "Sore bum"

Who: Seymour
Where: One of Fourth Base's "quickie" rooms
When: Morning
<snip>
The last thing he remembered for certain was taking lunch at a fine little bistro on the new Promenade, so how had he got here, and where on earth was he?
Grimacing at the vile taste in his mouth, Seymour sat up to look for the nice decanter of mineral water that he expected to be beside the bed "Owww" he moaned rolling immediately over onto his side, clutching his painfully stinging arse
What in the name of Hades had happened to him?
<end snip>
Seymour reached behind to touch his stinging bumhole. So many nasty thoughts raced through his mind, each one adding to the feeling of nausea which he swore was going to make him vomit.
He dragged his legs to the end of the bed and sat upright, angling his legs over the edge. He brished his hands across his face and down his cheeks. His skin felt clammy, almost sticky with sweat. He felt the roughness of his skin, and the stubble pushing its way through his grimy skin. He hadn't felt like this in quite a long time. Usually when he woke up, he pushed back his silk sheets, and stepped out of bed onto a plush expensive carpet, where he put on his expensive comfortable slippers and walked through his perfect temperature-controlled master-bedroom to his luxurious bathroom.
This small grubby room he was in didn't even have a bathroom. It had a small sink and shower curtain at one end, covered in black mould.
This was one of Fourth Base's "Quickie" rooms. It had the essentials you needed to shag the brains out of a Prostitute before you came to your senses and realised you were in a shithole. The bed was basic, and tacky. The floor was a wipe clean lido, and looked like it had been recycled from a KFC. There was a mirror on the ceiling, presumably for watching yourself have sex.
Seymour closed his eyes and wished he wasn't here. Also he wished he wasn't naked. The cold air-conditioning made his clammy skin come up in bumps and the sweat almost froze.
He gathered the bedclothes around him, and formed a Roman toga. He still wasn't sure what had happened last night, and now clean the sheets even were, but they were better than nothing. Then he stepped out of the bed onto the floor, which was cold on his bare feet.
He put himself under the shower, which didn't really help, it mostly resembled a prison shower. He hoped the running water over his skin would help him remember what happened to him last night, but it just made him wet. And cold.
He looked around for some foaming shower gel that he was used to, but couldn't find anything. Only a small white block of something engraved with the word "soap", and containing many small curly black hairs, which definitely weren't his. Seymour wondered if the item would clean him or give him a disease. At the least it would ruin the perfect pH value of his skin and possibly give him spots. He left the soap alone.
He started to remember his ordeal with Cassandra, or as she'd introduced to him "Regina Butcombe". He remembered acting strangely after she offered him some food. He kicked himself for letting her drug him, as that was the only explanation he could come up with.
He started to wonder why she would drug him. All the obvious answers pointed to her wanting to steal from him, but there was still the small but very realistic possibility that Regina Butcombe was a hermaphrodite with an extremely large penis, and fancied a bit of Seymour's ass. He winced again as he felt the pain in his bottom.
Stepping out of the shower, he searched for some clothes in the small room. Unfortunately the only ones he could find were some spare leopard-patterned lingerie in a drawer marked "Topanga's emergency clothes – do not touch".
Seymour frowned, then sighed, then stretched the leopard-patterned top over his middle-aged belly. He pulled the tight panties up his hairy legs, and tucked his Ambassadorial package into them. A quick glance at the mirror above the bed ensured him that he looked absolutely ridiculous, and he regretted even looking. He grabbed the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around him.
He stumbled across the room to the door, still unsteady on his feet.
The door slid open and he stepped outside. He was in the heart of Fourth Base's most sleasy district. It was a wide corridor which stretched for as far as he could see. Lit with soft, red lights, he could see windows lining the corridor, showing him windows with erotic dancers gyrating, and trying to tempt him inside. Soft porn music played through speakers in the ceiling.
Seymour started to run, passing many scantily clad girls, who tried to pull the bedsheet off him, calling to him "Come on big boy, I'll show you mind if you show me yours..."
"No thankyou madame." Seymour said as politely as possible, even though he thought the woman vilest type of scum, but there's no need to be impolite.
He passed a signpost. This corridor was marked "The corridor of infinite perversions", and he could tell why, it seemed to stretch for as far as he could see. Maybe even longer than Fourth Base itself, even though he knew that wasn't scientifically possible.
He took a side door (painted as a vagina), and entered. He made his way back to the Blue Dwarf.
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Who: Seymour
Where: Seymour's Ambassadorial Suite, Blue Dwarf
When: Some time after
Seymour arrived in his suite and locked the door. He put his back to the wall and sighed the longest sigh of relief. It was so good to be back home.
He dropped the bedsheet to the floor, exposing his stretched leopard-skin panties and top.
Just then, his doorbell chimed.
<Tag – who is at the door, does anyone want to come in and embarrass Seymour? >