Tom examined the clothing - it was high-end. The kind of suit a professional woman would wear when trying to impress - coal black skirt, sheer white blouse, tight black blazer and matching three-inch heels. Even a set of black, silk panties, a bra, and a matching clutch purse to complete the ensemble.
If I found out where this came from, I could probably make up a decent enough story to return it. If this is as expensive as it looks, I could probably get a couple hundred bucks for the whole kit. Hell, it's even got the tags still on it! The tingling in Tom's hand had subsided. Probably pinched a nerve or something. But he was starting to feel incredibly fatigued. He hadn't noticed before, but his muscles were sore from a long day's work, and he was so tired, he felt like his entire sense of balance was off. Slipping on the necklace he had pilfered (so as not to lose it), he neatly folded and packed up the woman's suit, absent-mindedly running his hands over the fabric, subtly appreciating it.
He stumbled to his room, managing to strip down to his boxers before passing out on the bed - the Medallion resting comfortably on his (tender, expanding) chest.
She awoke about five hours later - cold, uncomfortable, and needing to pee. Groggily, she made her way to the bathroom, pushing her bangs away from her eyes and feeling the tug of her unsupported breasts on her chest as she slid down the boxers she was wearing, and (after dropping the lid) took a seat on the toilet. Releasing, she felt a trickle as pressure gave way to relief. Weird, she thought to herself, why am I wearing a guy's boxers? Why was the toilet seat up?
She wiped, flushed and walked over to the sink, stepping out of the boxers as she did so, standing before her mirror au naturale, aside from the medallion she snatched earlier. Wiping a bit of sleep from her eyes, she pouted sexily in the mirror. Even bedragged and groggy, I am one sexy bitch.
It was at that moment that Tom finally realized what she'd been thinking. Wait...guy's boxers? The toilet seat? Sexy bitch?! HOLY FUCK, I'M A CHICK! Tom shrieked a high-pitched, feminine shriek as she quickly went to cover herself up, her hands instinctively going to her crotch and chest, as she stood there, agape, staring at herself.
And, even bedragged and groggy, she was beautiful. Her short but femininely cut dark red hair parted to one side, covering her left eye. Eyes, large and expressive, a vibrant and brilliant green, her face soft yet angular. Her frame, petite and lovely - she couldn't have been any taller than 5'3", nor could she have weighed more than 115, soaking wet. Her limbs were soft and supple to the touch. Her chest was large - larger than it should be for a frame that small, but not SO large as to look gross or unnatural. Her tiny waist tapered down to a generous set of hips and a large (but firm and well toned) butt, leading down to toned legs and dainty feet. Her pubic region was neatly trimmed, and the same dark red that adorned the top of her head. While she was at first a bit freaked out to see her new sex, she could feel the heat eminating off of it.
Without taking the time to think about it, Tom absently noted that she didn't seem turned on by her reflection. It was hardly even a thought - just an observation that, while she looked amazing, it was more in sense of both pride and appreciation of how well she was put together, rather than lust or attraction.
That fucking suit! Tom thought to herself. As soon as I touched it, I started feeling weird! How the hell did it do this to me?! This is like magic - it shouldn't be possible! Tom, on autopilot, ran in a feminine fashion to the front room of her apartment, and tore the package apart. There was no name on the box, but the suit had tags for D'Jane - an upscale woman's fashion store in the mall. This has got to be some sick strategy - turn men into women and force them to buy clothing. This shouldn't even be possible! Tom was pacing angrily around her apartment.
"FUCK!" She yelled loudly, frustrated and angry. "I have to go down there. I have to get them to reverse what they did. But I don't have any fucking clothes...I can't go out there naked. Imagine how men would react to someone like me." She stopped for a moment, puzzled at her stream of consciousness. When she said men it brought on several curious sensations. First, the feeling of the alien and unfamiliar - as though the concept of men were a different species than she. Second, a flutter of emotion - brief longing and lust. She shook off the unfamiliar sensations, convinced herself that it was the stress of the situation. As she continued to pace, she kept glancing at the box of clothing, simultaneously chewing on her lower lip - a habit she hadn't had as a man. Those clothes got me into this...but I guess it's not like I can turn any further into a chick. And if I'm going to D'Jane, I'm going to HAVE to be dressed.
She threw her hands down at her side in frustration, growling with anger, as she slid the panties up her legs, where they settled snugly on her new sex. As she adjusted the bra, she noticed it appeared a little tighter than necessary. She donned the blouse and skirt, admiring the length and snugness of the garment. Ending just above the knees, it navigated the border of both professional and sexy. She slipped the pumps on her feet, and taking several practice strides, noted how easily she navigated her living room in the unfamiliar footwear. This is easy, she thought to herself, I don't know why so many other women complain about wearing heels. I could wear these all day...
She completed the outfit by throwing on the blazer - for all intents and purposes, she looked like she was a well-to-do young business professional, on her way to her career or a prospective job interview. Except for one thing...
She didn't know why it bothered her - after all, she wasn't ACTUALLY who she appeared to be, and once she straightened out what happened with the management of D'Jane, she'd be back to normal. But the medallion around her neck just no longer suited her - she looked at it with a mixture of distaste and annoyance. It looks so gaudy and cheap - it completely clashes with this suit. I don't want these people thinking I'm some sort of freak who can't dress herself, after all - they'll throw me out of the store like I'm some sort of nutcase. She walked back to the living room, and taking the medallion off, popped it into her clutch handbag - completely oblivious to the fact that since Tom's change began, it had been affecting his mannerisms, his attitude, his perception and his very sense of self - changing him into her both physically and mentally over the course of the last several hours.
Tom loaded her wallet - complete with cash, credit cards and ID - into her clutch purse, and threw her car keys in as well before taking a last look around for anything else she may need. Seeing nothing, she left the apartment, intent on getting D'Jane to straighten out the mix-up with her clothes and her body.
