DISCLAIMER: Augh! I'm sorry. I've been very slow to update the past couple of times. I shall do better now that school's out. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story.
Okey-dokey, here we go. I do not own Final Fantasy X. Or the intriguing outfits of male rockers from the 70's, such as Robert Plant and Jimi Hendrix. How anyone can physically wear pants like that is beyond me...

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Seymour stormed out of the dining room and nearly tripped over the convulsed form of Rikku, who sat huddled with her ear pressed against the door. The blond Al Bhed was laughing hysterically, tears streaming from her eyes.
Seymour glowered. "Did you hear all that?"
Rikku, unable to speak through her giggles, simply nodded.
"As though I don't have enough to deal with already," he muttered, half to himself and half to Rikku. "Your idiot father has to add further insult to injury."
Rikku took a deep breath and got herself under control. "Yeah, Dad's kinda crazy. But lighten up, Seymour. You thought it was funny, too. I heard you laughing."
"Yes, laughing at the preposterousness of it. It is still insulting."
"I wonder where Dad got that idea from," Rikku mused.
"You wonder?" Seymour wheeled on her. "Think! What did Auron tell you? You treat me like a pet! Perhaps you don't know this, but changing the clothes of others is not, in this world, considered normal!"
"Oh! Clothes!" Rikku snapped her fingers. "That reminds me. I finished your outfit late yesterday. Wanna try it on?"
Seymour had qualms about the sort of outfit Rikku would devise for him, but he was tired of wearing Wakka's pants. They were too short for him. And at least this new ensemble was made of his old outfit.
"Fine," he told her.
"Great! Follow me!" Rikku grabbed his arm and dragged him down the corridor. "I was actually able to make a couple of different things for you, since there was so much fabric," she said as they walked. "I was kinda sad to see the parachute pants go. But they're yours, not mine. I think you'll like 'em. They're really cool, if I do say so myself. I based it off some of the Zanarkand things Tidus told me about."
Seymour's misgivings increased.
Rikku led him into her room—or Seymour assumed it was her room, considering the chipper manner in which it was decorated and the large amounts of girlish accessories strewn about the floor. She opened a closet and took out three articles of clothing whose color Seymour recognized.
"Here's one," she said, thrusting them at him. "Want some help?"
"I can change my own clothes, thanks," he snapped.
"Geez, just asking." Rikku rolled her eyes. "Call me when you're done."
She left the room and shut the door behind her. Seymour held up the first: a pair of pants. He recognized them to be made of his billowy blue pants and aquamarine sash. They were unusually shaped: thin at the tops of the legs, and flared wide at the bottom. They were mostly blue, save for jagged aquamarine strips down the outer seam of each leg. They didn't look so bad, Seymour supposed. He shuffled out of the blitz pants and pulled the new ones on. They didn't quite reach his waist—they sat around his hips, actually—and felt rather...tight. Still, he supposed they were bearable.
Next he lifted the shirt. This was made of his long-sleeved red shirt that he wore under his robes. It was essentially unchanged, except dark blue trim had been added and the center of the shirt consisted of the gold netting he'd worn over his pants. He pulled the shirt on. It too was tight in all areas but the sleeves. The third piece of clothing was a belt, also made of the gold netting. He strung it through the designated loops on the pants, wondering what purpose it served since it didn't seem to be adding in the support of the pants. "Finished," he called to Rikku.
She entered. "How do they fit?"
"They're a bit tight—"
"They're supposed to be that way." She stood back to scrutinize him. "They look good. I'm proud of myself. You don't look like a balloon anymore."
"Let me see."
"Just a second." She frowned. "Something's funny..." Her eyes settle above his head. "Oh, that's it! You're hair!"
"What's wrong with my hair?" he demanded.
"You look like a blue moose-man."
"I most certainly do not!"
"I think I'm going to have to cut it," Rikku said.
"No! I refuse," Seymour said vehemently. "You are not cutting my hair."
"It's in your best interest, y'know," she said. "It's not everyone who has a blue hat rack growing out of their head. People in Luca are bound to recognize you if you keep your hair. And you're not exactly the most popular guy right now, what with the murder, and the corruption, and the plots to destroy the world and all."
"What do I care what the common people think of me?" Seymour asked. "The worst they could do is kill me, and that's been done. And my hair does not look like a hat rack."
"Also," Rikku continued, "I'll zap you if you don't let me. Or cut it in your sleep."
Seymour realized there was no escape. "Fine," he said bitterly.
"Great! Now sit here." Rikku moved some debris to reveal a swivel chair. Seymour complied. "I'll get some scissors."
Seymour smiled to himself. Scissors were not going to work.
He was instantly proven right. Rikku seized his bangs in one hand and attacked them with the scissors. The scissors clamped fruitlessly onto his hair and promptly bent.
Rikku held the defunct scissors up in astonishment. Geez, what's your hair made of?"
Seymour chuckled at her bewilderment. "It's hair. But remember, the horns of Behemoths and many other horned creatures are made of tightly packed hair."
"So you have horns," Rikku said. "Told ya you were a moose. Hmm. I better bring in the big guns for this. Wait here."
Seymour busied himself by looking through Rikku's clutter. He was soon startled by a loud revving noise. He whirled to see Rikku standing in the doorway, wearing her goggles and holding what looked very much like—
"Is that a chainsaw?" Seymour yelled over the noise.
Rikku nodded and motioned for him to sit.
"I'm not letting you near my head with that!"
Rikku pointed the vibrating blade at him. "Don't disobey the girl with the chain saw!"
Seymour sat down. He did not show it, but he was very nervous. He was no longer alive, so he didn't have to worry about being killed. But a chainsaw through the face would still be quite painful.
Rikku came up on his right side and began work on that spiky tendril of hair. The blade met the hair with a shrieking sound, as of metal on stone. Seymour was oddly pleased to note that sparks were emitted. At once the screeching stopped and something thunked to the floor. The right side of Seymour's head now felt much lighter. Rikku proceeded to Seymour's left and repeated the process. Once that was done, she came around to his bangs. Seymour couldn't help but wince as the chainsaw hovered inches from his face. He could feel heat from its movement. Luckily, Rikku elected to shorten his bangs, not remove them entirely, thereby reducing the chance of an accidental lobotomy.
Rikku clicked the saw off and removed her goggles. "Whew! All done!" She stood back to admire her handiwork. "Hey, you look good!" she said appreciatively. "You might actually look attractive if you weren't so creepy."
Was that supposed to be a compliment? Hmph. "Let me see."
"Certainly." She opened another closet door, revealing a full-length mirror. Seymour walked up and looked at his reflection.
It was startling. He did not look like a maester at all; and the only evidence of his Guado heritage was his hands. He looked like an unusually tall human. An unusually tall human with a very odd taste in fashion. His pants were indeed very tight until they reached his knees, and sat startlingly low. The shirt clung to him almost like another skin, save for the billowing sleeves. The open area of the netting bared his chest and tattoos.
"I look disturbing," he said slowly. "Why are my clothes so tight?"
"Because it's cool!" Rikku said. "You look like a rock star or something!"
Seymour did not find this to be a good thing. "Where are the other things you made for me?"
"Here." Rikku fished around in the closet and tossed him another shirt. This one was essentially his maestoral robe, but it had been shortened and fit to his figure. (He wondered how Rikku had gotten his measurements. She'd probably gotten them while he was asleep—a troubling proposition.) Also, the sleeves of the robe had been cut off and one clasp inserted on the front. Seymour took the red shirt off and pulled on the robe thing. It came to about his knees. The clasp fastened around the base of his ribs, baring as much skin as the red shirt had.
"Did you make any shirts that actually close in the front?" he asked. "I am not an exhibitionist."
"It shows off the tattoos, which on anyone else would be extremely cool. On you, they're creepy. Like the rest of you," Rikku said. "But it's how the rock guys wear 'em. The open shirt-ness goes with the rest of the look. And anyway," she added, "you were practically shirtless in your old outfit, too."
"Touché," Seymour said grudgingly.
"Well, pick the shirt you like best and come on," Rikku said. "I want to show the others!" Seymour put the red shirt back on and was dragged out the door once again.
They had not taken two steps when they literally bumped into Cid.
"Hi, Dad!" Rikku greeted him.
Cid scowled in his trademark way. "Did you two just come from your room?"
"Yeah," Rikku said innocently. "Something wrong with that?"
"Just what were you doing in there?" Cid fixed his stare on Seymour more than Rikku. "And why is his hair smaller? And how come he's dressed like that?"
"Oh, I gave him a makeover," Rikku said cheerfully. "It was kinda hard to get him into the pants, but I managed...Dad? Dad, is something wrong?"
Cid had turned an unearthly shade of puce and was sputtering incoherently.
"Well, see you later, Dad. C'mon, Seymour." Rikku nonchalantly led Seymour down the hall, past the fuming Cid. Once they were around the corner, Rikku burst into giggles. "Ooo, that was fun!"
"Fun?" Seymour hissed. "Fun?! Do you not remember the previous conversation with him?"
"Of course I remember," Rikku said through her laughter. "That's why it's fun!"
Seymour clenched his teeth. The girl was a master at making trouble for him. "I will strangle you one day," he growled.
"Maybe." Rikku shrugged and grinned. "But you have to live through my dad first!"

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Yeah, that was sort of a random place to cut off, but I had to put something in there that didn't revolve around clothes. Hopefully the next installment will improve...stay tuned!