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Chris took a deep breath, reminding herself to stay calm as Carrie flitted about, grabbing clothes and muttering.

"Is there a type of style you're into? Is there anything you're uncomfortable with?" Carrie asked gently, her devilish tail swaying.

Chris winced, glancing around before making eye contact with the woman assisting her. "I guess-- umm… Just nothing super tight or revealing. I'm still getting used to wearing feminine clothes," she confessed.

Carrie briefly flashed a curious look before smiling widely. "Understood; I'm happy to help," she chimed.

Chris fidgeted while standing, gripping her arm with a slight squeeze. 'Relax. It's just clothes; nothing weird or wrong with me getting clothes that fit my body,' she insisted, taking a slow breath to calm herself.

After another minute, Carrie held a few items of clothing out for Chris, a broad smile plastered across her face. "Try these. I think I have your sizing down pretty well. The dressing rooms are right there," she pointed down the aisle to the left.

Chris absently nodded, taking the clothes and offering a weak smile. "Sure, thanks." She held the clothing tightly and entered the dressing room, closing and locking the door behind her. "What do we have?" She muttered, tossing the clothes onto the bench and giving them a quick lookover. Seeing a red bra with a cute bow between the cups made her frown. This was life now, wasn't it? A swelling of confused emotions bubbled within her as she considered the implications of the feminine apparel lying before her. Bras, panties, and girly garments will be a regular part of her wardrobe from now on. She was witnessing a microcosm of her wardrobe from here on.

"Relax. I've been handling transience like a champ," she whispered with a grunt, reminding herself of what she had already overcome. After everything she'd been through, why draw the line at clothes?

With a sigh, she stripped down, her perky D-cup breasts popping free with a healthy jiggle. The cool air caused her to shiver, her nipples hardening while goosebumps broke out over her body's surface. A quick glance down at her tits caused a slight tingle of warmth between her legs. 'When will I stop finding myself attractive?' she lamented and shook her head to regain focus.

Now only donning a pair of well-fitted boxers, Chris reached for the bra and unclasped it, recalling the numerous times she had seen Gretchen put on bras and the many times she happily removed them on Gretchen's behalf.

Chris flashed a stern expression and nodded. 'You got this.' She pulled the bra over her chest and adjusted the straps. Before going any further, she reached behind and fidgeted with the bra clasps until they were hooked correctly. That left only one thing, her cheeks reddening as she glanced down at her chest. Without wasting any more time, she began to maneuver her supple breasts into the perfectly fitted cups. "Ahhh…" She momentarily trembled as her still-hard nipples convulsed with sensitivity. It was almost impossible to shake the gnawing feeling in the back of her head that she was doing something naughty or inappropriate, but she realistically understood that such emotions were utter nonsense.

Afer taking a few moments to adjust and pull at the bra straps, she let her arms drop and looked in pure amazement. Her breasts appeared pale and soft, impeccably fitting into the feminine undergarment. After briefly hesitating, she hopped slightly and watched her chest mounds wobble while staying snugly within the cups.

Riding her current momentum, she walked around the dressing room in a circle, quickly realizing how secure her chest felt. Nothing flopped about in an unruly manner, and it soon dawned on her how practical bras truly were.

She turned toward the mirror and stared hard at the feminine figure looking back. She was already well aware of her wide hips, taut body, and lady-like curves, but everything seemed somehow different with this new article of clothing added to the equation. The bra pressed her breasts together, creating cleavage—or nearly doing so, at least. Her arms and shoulders looked so slender; no shred of masculinity was reflected on the mirror's surface.

"Woah…" She shifted from foot to foot, blushing deeper as she turned her body, getting a better look at the curves leading down to her ample rear while her stubby tail swished involuntarily.

'Okay, okay… Stop gawking.' She pried herself from the mirror and grabbed a white, short-sleeved blouse. As she began to pull it on, she realized how different it was from the simple tee-shirts and button-ups she wore as a man. The fabric hugged her body snugly, with plenty of room spared at the chest for her ample breasts to lay without being terribly restricted.

It took only another few seconds for her to see that the blouse was not short sleeved, but rather, off-shoulder. A look she happened to find incredibly attractive when worn on Gretchen or other women. Could she do this? Was this too feminine? She bit her lip and considered asking Carrie for something else to wear, growing acutely aware of the tingly female sensations permeating every cell of her feminine form.

"No… Just do it," she said defiantly, grabbing another clothing article from the pile. She briefly wondered why she'd be given a bra with straps if the top was off-shoulder, but her question was answered when she lifted what she initially thought to be a set of black jeans. Instead, she held black overall shorts before her and blinked with a blank expression. 'Oh…' The overall straps would hide the bra straps; the wonders of female fashion never failed to surprise her.

So what if these clothes were feminine? Sure, an off-shoulder top and shorts weren't her first choice, but she promised herself she'd try to go with the flow and try new things. If she hated it, she could stay away from this type of clothing in the future.

'Let's do it.' She pulled the overall shorts up and let out a slight squeak when the shorts portion snapped into place over her butt. The taut fabric hugged her crotch and contorted to her body's curves. There was a tiny bit of free space, but in what world would this be considered loose clothing?

Her vulva tingled from the added pressure, making her immediately aware of her anatomy. Memories of exploring her womanhood and probing her nethers briefly flitted through her head, but she forced them out, consciously breaking the cyclical nature of her XX chromosome-induced doubts.

After a couple of minutes, she had the straps fastened and everything was in place, with her tail pulled through the opening in the back. The nature of her new clothes resulted in a constant state of heightened body awareness. She felt every minute detail of her sultry, womanly form.

Another look at the mirror left her speechless. 'I'm-- so hot…' she blushed deeply, looking at herself with the usual mix of conflicting emotions. Not a single person would ever look at her and see anything other than a beautiful, sensually shaped woman with wide hips, long, slender legs, and breasts that perfectly suited her size and frame. With the shorts being as tight as they were, there would be no doubt in anyone's head what equipment she was packing downstairs.

As she examined herself, one emotion rose above the others, gradually outweighing the others. It was one she had felt more acutely over the last couple of days—but what was it exactly? After a brief contemplation, she couldn't deny it—pride, or vanity, even. Perhaps both.

"Huh…" She tilted her head in confusion. 'I'm kinda… Giddy? Am I happy?' she asked herself, refusing to ignore the burning question. Would being unhappy magically turn her back into a man? Absolutely not, so why feel embarrassed or frustrated over a feeling of positive self-affirmation?

She remembered looking at herself in the mirror before, feeling as if she were piloting some automaton or puppet that she was disassociated from. At the time, she felt like an ornate porcelain doll, an object rather than a person.

She slid a hand over her neck and down her arm, shivering at her skin's sensitivity and softness. "A doll, eh?" She mused with a slight snicker. She had always been fond of female fashion from a safe distance. As a man, she had never personally wanted to wear feminine clothing, but she had enjoyed watching Gretchen and others dress up; she'd admire the way women could express themselves through fashion in any way they desired without the worry of appearing too girly, masculine, or anything in between.

'There are worse things in the world than being my own living dress-up doll, aye?' she contemplated, imagining her body in different outfits as a fluttery sensation overwhelmed her warm nethers.

With a sigh, she tore herself from the mirror and opened the dressing room door, stepping out before letting doubt creep back into her head. Upon doing so, her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw Rodrick standing a few yards away, matching her shocked expression while his shaggy black tail swished frantically.

“I-- well--,” Rodrick stammered. If he wasn't coated with dark fur, his cheeks would surely be a shade of red. "I wanted to show my support-- and all that, ya know?" He managed to say while taking in the visage of feminine perfection standing before him.

Chris's first instinct was to scurry back to the dressing room to change and hide, but she tightly gripped her wrist and understood the folly of doing so. If she was going to wear female clothes, that meant she'd be wearing them in public. Others would see her, including Rodrick, Gretchen, and her family. 'Oh god…' She turned a brighter shade of crimson when considering how her family would react to seeing her right now. Her mother would undoubtedly coo and fuss over her while her brothers and father struggled to find the right words.

'It's just Rodrick,' she reminded herself. Memories of a strange dream and other contemplations regarding her sexuality surged, attempting to force their way into the forefront of her mind. Her nipples hardened in response, her feminine sex consumed by a milky warmth. "Well… How do I look?" She finally asked, slightly turning her body and head away from her dear friend.

Rodrick watched Chris's bashful body language, noticing her blushing cheeks and increasingly feminine mannerisms. 'Adorable…' He quickly stopped that thought train and scolded himself. "You look amazing. That outfit suits you perfectly," he insisted.

Chris was slightly taken aback by the honesty in Rodrick's response. Looking into his eyes, she saw no hint of negativity-- no pity. He seemed to genuinely regard her highly in a variety of ways. What should she do from here? After a moment, she found an obvious answer in hindsight; enjoy the day-- enjoy life, even. Even if it meant forcing herself further from her comfort zone. "Thank you. I think I'll wear this out," she said before she could stop herself. 'Wait, really?' She was somewhat shocked by that admission, but it was too late to back out now.

Carrie trotted over and looked at Chris, her tail swishing as quickly as Rodrick's. "Oooooh, wow! Yeah! That is perfect on you," she grinned. "You're so dang cute; I'm jealous," she playfully huffed.

Chris weakly laughed and scratched her head. "I-- I appreciate the kind words," she replied, actually somewhat meaning it.

Chris once again found herself in the passenger seat of Rodrick's car as they found a parking spot in college town. Karston, the city they lived in, was quite populated, so they were happy to find a place to park.

She quickly glanced toward the backseat, looking at the multiple clothing bags with trepidation. Carrie seemed to have her exact sizing pinned down, so she trusted her to assist in picking out a variety of clothes to bring home. A few bras and even a few pairs of panties were included among those. Despite her generally accepting her new form, the thought that all this female apparel was hers still felt surreal.

"Time to wander," Rodrick chimed as they exited the vehicle and moved onto the sidewalk. They had no particular plans, but Gardenia Street was well known to them. All kinds of shops lined both sides of the road, ranging from food and candy shops to various game stores and even a retro theater that often showed Indie movies.

Chris nodded, standing near Rodrick, trying not to think of how her body moved and felt in her new clothes. Not only did she get looks, but she was acutely aware of her body's motion, from the snug heaving of her breasts within the secure confines of her bra to the way her hips naturally swayed. She couldn't help but notice how tall everyone appeared, with even most women being at least a couple of inches taller.

She eyed a tall, well-muscled man walking past and wondered what she'd do if she wasn't with Rodrick and someone like him attacked her. She may have been healthier and showered with many boons along with her transience, but she objectively had much less physical strength than before. The thought that she could be so easily overpowered unnerved her, resulting in her stepping closer to Rodrick. Did all women experience these feelings? 'It's not like I have no way to defend myself,' she reasoned, biting her lower lip. While she hadn't pushed her new form to its limit, she was aware of how much faster her new body was, with heightened reflexes. In addition, she had a magic ability in her arsenal now; there was no doubt creating a mighty shockwave in someone's face would, at the very least, send the aggressor reeling and onto their ass.

"Is everything okay?" Rodrick asked with concern, slowing his pace as he looked over his shoulder.

Chris blinked, her tail swishing from nearly still to swishing quickly. She realized her pace had fallen behind Rodrick's, and she had likely spaced out mid-conversation. "Y-- Yeah!" She smiled weakly, trotting forward to catch up with him. "I just get lost in my head sometimes… With everything being so different and all."

Rodrick nodded. "Understandable; I don't blame you," he assured her with a smile. "If you need to talk or vent, I'm always happy to lend an ear."

The two friends casually chatted and entered shops here and there, picking up the occasional trinket. As time went by, Chris grew more comfortable, and by the time they left a small comic shop with a couple of graphic novels in tow, her face was more consistently smiling. "I don't know why I even buy these when I just read comics and manga on a phone app," Chris weakly laughed, glancing toward the bag in her hand.

Rodrick put a hand on his chin. "Well, they do make nice decorations on your bookshelf,' he reasoned.

"Yeah, that's true--", Chris stopped mid-sentence when a cacophony of sound suddenly assailed her ears. She trembled and put her hands over her ears, dropping the bag.  ‘S-- So loud…’ She had no idea what was happening, but the chatter and bustling around her grew unbearable.

Rodrick's eyes widened as he stopped and quickly moved toward his friend, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Chris! What's wrong?? What happened?" He asked shakily, trying not to show his panic.

Various scents assailed Chris, ranging from sweet and savory to musty and dank. Her senses were overwhelmed, and she kept her hands over her ears, still trembling. “T-- Too loud-- an-- and my nose-- I don’t…”

Rodrick hesitated before leaning forward and gently pulling Chris into a warm hug. "Your senses are improving, and you have no control over them yet. You will be okay-- I promise… I went through it, too."

A shiver went down Chris's spine as she felt Rodrick's warm embrace. His masculine fragrance assailed her nostrils, and unwanted emotions immediately swelled, her body tingling. So potent. So intense. Brief flickers of memory teased her, reminding her of a sexual dream with a masculine presence and of recent confusion.

“G-- Grrrrr…” Chris suddenly growled and pulled away from Rodrick with a shake of her head. With some distance between her and Rodrick, her sinuses re-focused on the fragrance of grilled meat from a nearby barbecue, followed by an overpowering urge to spring to the restaurant at full speed and devour the source. This had to be related to her ongoing second leg of transience.

"Chris-- let me help you, please," Rodrick begged, stepping forward but keeping a couple of yards away. He didn't care if they were drawing confused and curious looks; the only thing that mattered was his best friend's well-being.

Amidst the turmoil, neither noticed the faint, barely visible crack-like lines in the air a few dozen yards down the sidewalk. A faint light emanated from these strange distortions, and seemingly, no one was aware that something was amiss.











CHAPTER END 

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