FOY inc -4- Amethyst (Patreon)

Albert’s excitement warned me in time to turn around and see Gordon emerge from blurry distance, carrying a large bag with the store logo on it. Clothes. Girl clothes. I had mixed feelings about this.

Albert beat a tattoo on the glass with his paws then put his nose up to the tiny crack Gordon had left at the top of the window. The dog all but howled.

I could hear Gordon trying to calm him down over the racket. It was comical, and I heard someone giggling then realized it was me. 

“Easy Albert, easy, boy,” Gordon said several times.

He stopped with his hand on the door handle. “I’m going to let Albert out and put the clothes bag inside. Do you think you can get dressed under the blanket while I take Albert for a walk?” I could barely hear him through the closed door and the racket Albert made.

“I can try,” I said a bit dubiously. It couldn’t be that hard to get dressed, could it? But I felt distinctly lacking in native intellect or even common sense. After all, I was a silly enough person to have been sleeping nude on the beach at daybreak. Just how much of an idiot was I?

Gordon opened the car door and a joyous Albert leaped on him then gamboled around his legs while he put the store bag inside the cab and retrieved a leash from behind the driver’s seat. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, snapping the lead on Albert’s collar.

I watched him go with a bit of anxiety, but finally snagged the bag to see what he had got me when he disappeared into the blur of distance. How much did I know about women’s clothes? Time to find out. Was I excited? Yes, like a kid opening a present. Weird.

Staying under the blanket while examining the bag’s contents wasn’t too hard but there seemed to be more clothing than I would have expected. 

First was a purple t-shirt. I struggled with it, finally getting it over my head and my arms through the right holes. It wasn’t easy to do while staying under the blanket. It fit well enough in the neck and shoulders, very tight across my boobs, and was long enough to reach mid-thigh. My chesticles stretched the fabric so much it was almost transparent. I couldn’t see how I looked in the shirt but I already knew I was a slut.

Stop giggling like a nut, I told myself, but the goodies in the bag wouldn’t wait while I got myself under control. Next was a pair of pretty silky lavender panties. Oh, the storm of giggles! Some of embarrassment of me wearing such a feminine item but more of just goofy enthusiasm.

I forgot about staying completely under the blanket, fitting my legs through the panties and pulling them up tight. The fabric felt nice, but not the sand that had gotten included. They fit oddly, though, snug in the crotch and high on my waist, kind of like the bottom half of a hi-cut bikini. Hmm. Not at all like boxers or jockeys.

I’m wearing girl’s panties, I told myself and there was a shiver of—shame?—in doing so. But I’d look silly in a pair of men’s underwear. What did Gordon wear—and why was I thinking about that? Boxers? Tighty-whities? I thought I could picture him in either one. Down, girl. Behave, brain.

I was sort of minimally dressed now so I could dispense with the blanket entirely and look into the bag again. The next thing appeared to be a denim skirt—well, fake denim since it was all stretchy with an elastic waistband.

The skirt fit, though getting it over my hips was a bit of a squeeze and I resigned myself, with more giggles, to wearing the girly thing. “I am a girl,” I reminded myself. “I just think that I used to be a guy.” Sigh.

I still felt all sandy and gritty under my new clothes but at least…at least I wouldn’t get arrested for public nudity. Why did everything have to sound funny to me?

A pair of purple beach flip-flops and a lavender zip-up-type sweatshirt with hood finished off the contents of the bag except for a smaller bag inside the large bag. I tried to fit my feet into the flip-flops but they kept getting away from me since I couldn’t see down there very well. I pulled on the sweatshirt but gave up on trying to zip it up.

The small bag proved to have things like a cheap comb and brush, hand mirror, toothbrush, a card of hairpins and some elastic bands that baffled me until I realized that they were for creating ponytails. I did so. I had so much hair that I made two, one on each side of my head. I used the hand mirror to examine the effect. 

I looked cute and sexy. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I could look otherwise. Still giggling about that, I tried to exit the truck cab to look for Gordon, but while I was struggling with the door hardware, he opened it from the outside.

“You look nice,” he said, smiling. Albert bounced up beside him and sniffed of my toes.

I was astonished at how glad I was to see Gordon. I put my face up and giggled at him through the biggest grin I could make. I almost hated it but there was no other word for the sound I was making. 

Gordon had not gotten less impressive. Standing there beside the truck with me sitting on the elevated seat, my feet under me, his chin was about at my eye level. Some chin, square with a dimple in it. Why was I staring at his chin?

I finally managed to stop with the hilarity and squirmed on the seat. 

“Something wrong?” he asked. 

“I itch from all that wet sand,” I explained, not admitting that just looking at the man made me feel all weird inside.

“Do you want to go in and do some shopping yourself,” he asked, pointing at the big box store with his wonderful chin.

I shook my head. “I’m all dirty,” I said which for some reason made him grin. I pointed at my ponytails. “My hair….” I said. Damned if I didn’t feel like I might start crying! What now?

“Uh,” he said. “We could go to my place where you could get a shower? Then do more shopping later?”

I nodded, and yes, damnit, I was leaking tears.

Gordon put a hand to my shoulder, leaning toward me, pulling me slightly toward him. Was he—? Before I could react to the thought, he had kissed me. It felt soft, just a butterfly touch on my lips.

“Everything will be okay,” he said. Then he put the dog in the cab with me, fastened my seat belt, and taking the leash and the blanket with him, closed my door and ran around to his side.

I’ve just been kissed by a man, I thought. The sensation was nothing like I remembered feeling ever before. I put my cold fingers to my warm lips. That felt strange, too.

Gordon climbed in, put things away and had us rolling out of the parking lot in moments, just as a line of rain sprinkled everything. It looked cold out there. A memory surfaced—floating in the ocean while a similar rain dropped icy stilettos on my face and body. But who had I been when that happened?