A bell tinkles as you push the door open and you duck your muzzle shyly, ignoring the greeting of a vixen cashier, a fake smile plastered across her tinted lips. You feel bad for planning this deception but...there is no money in your pocket and they are surely in cohorts with the game show host. Maybe they know what you are going to do before you know yourself. The thought is disconcerting and you brush it aside, grabbing the first items of clothing in a smaller size that you see: baggy, camouflage trousers and a muddy-green tank top. As an afterthought, you lift a bra that you hope will fit off a back rack and slink to the rear corner of the store, disguising yourself behind a rack of summer hats to change.
You lose the boxers when the jeans fall about your hooves and kick them impatiently to the side, jostling the hat rack in your urgency. What do you need them for anyway? There’s no way that you’re putting on women’s underwear! Well...whatever underwear that was not necessary, that is. Avoiding contact with your altered sex, you reach for the trousers and scramble into them like a schoolchild rushing to ready themsel in the early morning. The camouflage trousers are easy to move in and you tie the ‘belt’ strap, which is built into the fabric, tightly, knowing that you will not need to worry any longer about that particular modesty. The bra proves a bit more troublesome after you’ve removed your house shirt (complete with unknown stain) and you have had a little experience in removing said garments. You manage to clasp it at the front after a few attempts, however, and wiggle it around so that the cups rest over your feminine breasts. It’s not the best fit but offers enough support for you to continue with the tank top, pushing your muzzle through the neck hole and stretching it to fit. Finally, you tug it down over your flat stomach and freeze.
“Hey, you! What are you doing?”
Written by Amethyst Mare on 28 April 2013