Girlfriend with Testing Device Ch. 04

"I think," I answered calmly, letting him know that I was alright, "that that's a river we'll have to cross when we come to it."

"Okay," he said, squeezing my hands, "If you're sure."

"I am." I smiled. "Right now I just want, more than anything else in the world, to go out there and shop for some totally cute dresses with my totally cute boyfriend, okay?"

"Aw," Evan smiled back "that's so sweet. I love you, baby."

I gave him a great big tit-crushing hug.

"I love you too."

The menswear section having nothing further to offer us, we made our way over to the (significantly larger) women's section. To my growing discomfort, I began to realize that almost everything here was just as boring and ill-suited as the stuff in the men's department. It was all either very cute and demure or very proper and conservative or some combination of the two and it was all just so boring. God, that described my whole wardrobe didn't it? Had I really been wearing this sort of thing my whole life?

Nevertheless, Evan prowled the racks like a leopard, hoping to find something nice. It was slow going. Good finds were rare and even when we found the occasional treasure, we'd soon discover that there wasn't a lot that would fit over our prodigious, jiggling assets. I frowned. This was obviously not one of the stores that catered to the local college slut population. I had assumed, when we had left the house, that we would have a hard time finding bras, but I didn't realize how hard of a hard time we'd have finding stuff to wear over those bras.

"Excuse me?" I asked, having finally managing to find a sales associate.

She was, though far from unattractive, a stern looking woman. She looked like a woman who, in her younger days, had probably been some kind of sexy librarian or school teacher, but now it was clear from her makeup and the lines upon her face that she was fighting a desperate struggle to remain attractive as she aged. This wasn't a battle she was losing, but it was one that was still clearly taking its toll. The fact that her face was a perpetual scowl did little to help. She was dressed in a fashionable yet modest outfit that did nothing to show off her figure, despite how well she filled it out.

"We're wondering if you could help us find some clothes in our sizes?" I pressed, ignoring the dismissive look she was giving us. "We can't seem to find any dresses that fit, er," I gestured at my boobs "in the chest region."

She looked over at Evan's tits with a withering glare. Was she jealous? Could she be jealous of a guy's tits? Evan, oblivious to her apparent scorn, stuck out his boobs proudly. The two were a complete contrast.

"I'm sorry," she said with the tone of someone who had never in their life been sorry about anything, "I don't think we have anything appropriate that would fit your friend here."

She then looked me up with the same unpleasant stare. She tried to hide it behind her fake smile, but her expression reminded me of someone who had just smelled spoiled milk. There was something about it that made me feel naked and self-conscious. Well, more naked and self-conscious than I actually was.

"You don't?"

"No. We don't really cater to that..." she heaped scorn upon the word as she said it "type."

"What type?" asked Evan.

"We offer a certain level of elegance here." I could see her sighing mentally as she was forced to state the obvious. "As such, our clothing is sized to fit people with more restrained proportions."

"So you're saying that you don't have anything that would fit us?"

"Oh, we may have one or two items that would your boyfriend here would be able to squeeze into, certainly, but only by virtue of being designed to be worn loose. He'd be wearing them all wrong though, and I would not recommend it. If you're looking for something designed with a figure like that in mind, well, I'm sure you can find something... somewhere else."

I couldn't believe this.

"However, we may have a few looser items that would fit you," she said as eyed me up coldly me "in the menswear section."

"Um, actually," I said softly, "I was hoping on getting something from the women's department as well."

She scoffed back a laugh as I said this.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." She said in that same unsorry tone. "Even if we did have something that would fit you, we're simply not that kind of store."

I blushed in embarrassment and outrage. That was it. This woman needed to be taught a lesson.

Evan, sensing my embarrassment, had risen to my defense, but there's only so much you can do and still remain civil when dealing with a person like that.

.

There was something about the woman's condescending tone that just cut to the heart of me. Honestly, I was kind of disappointed in myself for letting myself be so affected, even if I was proud of myself for holding together as well as I did. If this was the old me, I'd have been in pieces. This was not the old me though, this was the new me, and the new me didn't let people like her get away with that sort of crap.

While Evan and the woman argued, I withdrew the device from my bag and started to scan around for potential targets. If she was going to make it difficult for us to find some decent clothing, well, two could play at that game.

There were enough people around that I had options, but all of them seemed, well, too similar to the way she was now. They were all modest women shopping modestly. All, I noticed, except one: an older, disinterested looking husband was standing around looking bored while his wife, nearby, carefully considered between two identical outfits. He wasn't fat, per se, but, well, he looked like the sort of man whose wife liked to bake.

Yeah, let's see her try to find something nice to wear with a body like that.

A careful press of the button later and I was half expecting the wife to hand her newly feminized husband one of the outfits to try on. Sadly, he seemed just as disinterested as before. Still, it was, strictly speaking, an upgrade on his end, body-wise. Now that I could get a bit of a better view of the woman's old body, it was pretty sexy, even if the boobs were kind of small.

There was something about the disagreeable woman's new body, on the other hand, that made it very difficult to take her seriously anymore. Maybe it was the way her clothes were now bursting at the seams to contain her girth, maybe it was her surprising lack of height, or maybe it was just the poor gentleman's apparent sweat problem. Regardless, in my mind she went from being a tiger to an incontinent kitten.

Had I really let this girl's words hurt me? Now everything she said just seemed as flat and unimpressive as her chest.

This did nothing, however, to stop Evan and the girl from arguing. Thankfully I was able to drag him out of there before anything escalated too badly. The last thing we needed was for the woman to trump us up on some charges and get us thrown out of the store. I'm sure a bitter person like that would relish the opportunity.

It took a little while to calm Evan down enough to explain to him what had happened. The look of incredulity he gave me was a sight to behold. Frankly I don't think he really believed it, but the fact that I was practically fit to burst laughing was enough for him to play along at least. I suspect he was mostly just glad that I hadn't taken her words to heart.

Snickering like schoolgirls, we returned to the aisles of clothing.

The sales associate had, of course, been full of shit. While there wasn't a lot here for us, Evan's skilled eyes were somehow able to find us several articles of clothing that would totally fit us. Not a lot of it would fit us well, mind you, but it was still better than nothing.

Again I found myself expecting Evan to get stuff that I would have gotten, and while the garments he was picking out were certainly better than the pants from earlier, they were still, well, it was Evan through and through. Despite all the progress he had displayed at the bra shop, he still clearly favored practical over pretty. Don't get me wrong, the stuff he was getting looked nice, and I'm sure that with a body like that I'd still find him sexy in a paper bag, but he just wasn't going for the kinds of things that really showed off his body the way they should.

It was driving me insane. Visions of him in sexy, sultry outfits kept drifting through my mind. Was that too much to ask?

I tried to steer him in the right direction, of course. I kept picking out stuff that was more delicate and feminine for him to wear. The fact that they all had either daring necklines or lots of cleavage was, of course, strictly coincidental. He accepted what I was suggesting, but he seemed a bit hesitant.

Meanwhile, I kept catching myself instinctively reaching for the types of clothes that I normally wore, only to chastise myself a moment later when I realized just how tired and drab they all seemed now. They wouldn't even fit me now anyway. I had outgrown them, and in more than one way.

Not to long after, Evan was emerging from the changing room. He was wearing a simple pink sundress, one of the ones I had picked out for him. It was designed to be worn kind of loose and flowy, but that was clearly not an option with his chest and hips. It was a little odd to see him wearing something so cute and feminine, but the sheer amount of cleavage on display quickly put an end to any illusions of innocence that the dress may have tried to present.

"Oh, baby!" I exclaimed as he stepped towards one of the mirrors. "You look great!" I wanted, of course, to say that he looked pretty, or beautiful, or sexy, or completely drop dead fuckable, but I honestly wasn't quite sure how he'd take that. Did he know he was pretty? Did he want to be pretty? With the way he was dressing it had to be a consideration, didn't it?

"Do I?"

He gave himself a long hard look in the mirror and awkwardly adjusted his cleavage.

"Oh yeah," I gushed, "You look so manly in that! Look at how well it shows off your chest!"

He looked down at his tits then smiled to himself in the mirror. That seemed to have sold him on it. He flexed a little as he strutted in front of the mirror, and then, to my utter delight, he did a little spin, sending the hem of the dress flying up and outwards and his boobs cascading back and forth.

"I just don't know if pink is really my thing," he said, placing his hands on his hips, "It's such a Chad color, you know? You don't think I look like a douche in this or anything do you?"

"Oh, baby, no." I laughed, "Douchey frat-boy is the last thing I think of when I see you in that." That, at least, was true.

To be honest out of everything he had tried on from this store, it was the first thing I'd seen on him that looked genuinely nice. Evan's taste in underwear may have been flashy and daring, but half the stuff he'd picked out had favored masculine cuts and butch styles that seemed to want to slim down his bust and ass rather than emphasise them. And that was fine, of course. He could wear whatever he wanted. But damnit, what was the point of him being so brain-meltingly hot if he wasn't going to show it off?

Evan was a confident guy, but he never really liked to be the center of attention. Always the supporting actor and never the leading man. I wanted the best for him, but, well, when we had decided to come to the mall I pictured him trying out all kinds of sexy and revealing outfits, and now, at this rate it was going to be like pulling teeth to get him to wear anything half decent at all.

Then, from just outside the changeroom, came the sound of a miracle.

"I just wish" rang a voice, clearly that of a mother raising her tone in patient anger, "that I could get you to wear something respectable for once!"

Skulking around the shelves near the changing stalls was a mother and what I assumed was her rebellious teenage daughter. The source of the conflict was immediately obvious. While the mother was clothed quite conservatively, the girl, though perhaps a little too young for it, was anything but. It was subtle, of course, but all the signs were there. Her skirt was perhaps just a smidge too short, her blouse had perhaps one more button undone than was respectable, and, most tellingly, she had the same sort of look on her face shopping here that I did.

The girl was cute. One day she'd be hot, but right now she still clearly had a lot of growing up left to do.

She reminded me of my friend Elizabeth back when we were in high school. She had those kind of uptight parents who could simply never comprehend the fact that their precious angel spent more time studying boys than books. She had gone to great lengths to express herself at school without her parents ever catching on, but as she got more and more obsessed with her sexuality it became increasingly difficult to maintain the ruse. It got to the point where, in junior year, she had kept a whole separate little wardrobe in my locker so that she could slip away to the bathroom before homeroom in order to change into something more promiscuous.

Honestly, I blamed the university for this poor girl's taste in fashion. I imagine you couldn't live around here, in a town that revolved around an institution which idolized sexual promiscuity, without being brainwashed into thinking that you could judge the quality of clothing based on the amount of flesh it exposed.

I could tell from their expressions that this was not the first time the two had had this conversation. It probably wouldn't be the last either. I felt kind of bad for them. Elizabeth's little attempts to find herself back in high school had resulted in her going down a bad path for a while. She never really patched things up with her family after they had found out she had been lying to them about those little sleep-over study sessions.

So you see, it wasn't out of self interest, but rather out of a desire to save the relationship of this poor girl and her mother that I was, at that very moment, withdrawing the device from my bag. They'd thank me in the long run.

Frankly, this was another one of those trickier swaps. I wasn't even entirely sure what it would do, but I had enough faith in the device not to trust that it would be something extraordinary.

I wracked my brain. The last time I had tried to swap anything with Evan, it had come very close to disaster. This time I wanted to make sure there wouldn't be any weird side effects. I couldn't for the life of me think of any though. What was the worst that could happen? Besides, if worse came to worst, I could always swap them right back, right?.

The device grew warm in my hand as I pressed the button. Not hot, like when I had swapped our attractivenesses around with that pair of jocks, but noticeably warmer. Maybe it had to struggle to do these kinds of mental transformations?

As was to be expected by purely mental swaps, it was difficult to tell if anything had even happened. Evan had returned to changing stall and my eyes were glued to the girl, just waiting for some sign of confirmation. I'm just glad neither of them noticed me staring at them from the bench.

"You know what?" the girl piped up, breaking the uncomfortably long silence "You're right, mom. It is a little too revealing. Maybe we should get something a little more practical? Oh, like, something with pockets."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath. I smiled. That mother would never know how much easier I had just made her life.

Shortly thereafter, Evan emerged once again from the changing stall. He'd skipped over all the other items he'd picked out and had changed back into the hockey jersey and micro skirt combo he had left the house in today. This time however, he had tied off the shirt just below his tits, both exposing to the world his perfectly flat midriff and drawing additional attention to his bountiful bouncing jawbreakers.

In one hand he held the pink sundress that I had chosen for him, in the other he held a bundled up pile of rejected garments. His enthusiasm, which had been quite high despite our setbacks, seemed to have fallen off considerably.

"You know baby," he said, "on second thought? Most of these just aren't doing it for me."

"Oh," I said, feigning surprise, "yeah?"

"I mean, I've always liked clothes that were a bit more revealing, you know?"

I nodded, biting my tongue.

"And it's like you said earlier, I have this great manly-looking body now - not that my old one wasn't great too, mind you - and it would be shame if I didn't do everything I could to show it off, you know?"

My dick twitched.

"Like, this skirt?" he continued, turning around to show me his butt. "It's clubwear, sure, and too flashy to wear around town, but look at how well it shows off my ass!" he bobbed up and down on his heels, sending his butt bouncing as he wiggled it around. "I mean, look at that! How could I not want to show that off?"

Oh, I was looking alright. I could grow to like this.

"Besides," he added coyly, noting my expression, "I'm sure you wouldn't mind seeing me in something skimpy, huh?" He stuck out his tongue.

I laughed. God, I loved him so much.

We swapped off on the changing room, but I could already tell that my time there wasn't going to produce much fruit. Like Evan, these clothes just weren't doing it for me. I couldn't find a single pair of pants would both look good and fit over my world-class ass.

Uhg, pants. That was all I had wanted when I left the house that day wasn't it? A pair of pants? Why was I making this all so difficult for myself? Did I really need to tart myself up so badly that I couldn't even wear an unfashionable pair of pants if it meant having an alternative to this stupid skirt?

Evan, at least, had been victim to my lusts. It was my fault that he wanted to dress like a slut now. I didn't have any such excuse. In so far as I knew my desire to show off my tits and ass to anyone who wanted a gander was entirely my own. I briefly started to wonder if maybe I had been made the victim of some convoluted swap that I now had no awareness of, but that was a dangerous path to go down. Who knows what kind of paranoia that could lead to?

I ran a hand along my thigh and sighed. I supposed, in the end, that it was only fair to Evan, turnabout being fair play and all that. Still, it bothered me. What sort of person was I turning into?

"Okay, Yeah," I said, stepping out. "Nothing here is really working for me, either."

"Oh no. Well, at least we found this nice sundress." Evan said holding up the pink garment. "So it wasn't a total loss."

"True." I said, smiling. As good as Evan looked in that dress though I don't know if it was worth all the hassle this store had been.

On the way out we happened to almost run into the rude sales associate, who I caught discretely scratching at her bulging beer belly.

Okay, that made it worth all the hassle.

As we passed through the cosmetics section I wondered, idly, if the wardrobe swap I had made with Evan included makeup. He wasn't wearing any, but I often went without it. It was one of those things that I just never really had the time or knack for, so I'd always kept it simple or absent. Uhg, was makeup a part of the weird crossdressing thing I had to live with now? Was I going to get discriminated against for using concealer?

A test, I decided, was in order.

"Baby," I asked, gesturing to one of the little makeup displays, "what do you think of this color?"

Evan leaned in to get an assessment of the product, then looked back and forth between the makeup and my face.