I felt like a celebrity stepping out of my car, and may have looked like one too if it weren’t for the fact that it was my minivan.  My feet touched the pavement of the parking garage with a confidence and energy that I never had in my old body.  Walking into the mall, I was planning my attack.

Although I did not have much money to spend, I knew that if I went a little bit over of my budget I would show off my clothes in a fashion show for my old self.  It worked on me when I was him.  I loved to see her dress up in outfits and model them for me.  I loved to see how they fit her nice body and I came to the conclusion that I must have subconsciously wanted to be her for longer than I realized.   Whenever I asked how much it cost, I wasn’t even listening at the response and I was just trying to play the breadwinner/husband role.  I was really so captivated with her and how lucky she was she had such a nice figure to show off. 

My first stop was a clothing store.  Hip, trendy, but not for teenagers, more like 20-somethings.  I walked in, purse in hand, having no idea what to expect.  A cute girl came from behind me. I must have missed her in the distraction of all the clothes and things I wanted to adorn on my new body.

“Hi, my name is Vanessa.  Can I help you find something?”  Vanessa asked.

“Um, yes.  But..” I replied, realizing I had no idea what I was really even shopping for.

Vanessa looked at me in anticipation for the remainder of my response.

Taking a deep breath, I said “I’m sorry; I just have no idea what I’m looking for.” 

I couldn’t believe how nervous I was but I was relieved when Vanessa replied, “No problem.  Let’s shop!”

And with that, I began to feel like a model getting ready for a shoot.  Vanessa spent all sorts of time with me telling me things that will compliment my figure, what colors are good, everything.  In the process, we shared information about each other.  She was 21 and enrolled at the local college and had a boyfriend.  She was very cute, about 5’4 with fair skin and straight black hair that ran down her back.  She had the deepest blue eyes too.

“So, do you have a date tonight or something?” Vanessa asked casually.

“No dates for me; can never find a babysitter.” I said jokingly.  It was just like Meghan would have said it.

“You have kids?  Really?”

“Yeah, two in elementary school.”

“Two in elementary school?” Vanessa repeated.

“Uh huh” I smiled.

“I had no idea; I thought you were about my age!  How old are you” she asked boldly.
“I’ll be 32 this summer”.

“Wow, I never would have guessed it.  You look amazing.  I hope I look like you when I’m 32.  Actually, I hope I look as good as you do when I’m 25!” Vanessa said with a smile.
The compliment warmed me and I felt amazing. 

“I never heard anything like that before. Thanks” I replied graciously.  I almost felt like crying it meant so much to me.
After that, Vanessa helped me pick out a very sexy outfit.  I black skirt and a fuchsia button down blouse.  It was ribbed and hugged my midsection, so it accented my breasts very nicely.

“For your date.  Whenever you get a babysitter.” Vanessa said as she handed me my shopping bag of new clothes.
 
“Thank you so much Vanessa.” I said appreciatively.  I smiled and strutted away with even more confidence than when I started.  This was going to be a fun shopping trip. 
I was glowing inside hearing my high heels click on the mall floor.  I had mastered walking in them and enjoyed it immensely.  The femininity they added to my walk; to me.  Thinking about what I needed to complement my outfit, I came across a shoe store.  “Perfect.” I thought to myself.

Following Vanessa’s advice, I was going to look for a pair of black boots to go with my skirt and top.  I browsed the selection, admiring all before me, wondering which will look best to try on.  I found a pair of 4 inch boots that went up to past my calf, pretty much to my knee. They had a cute little rounded toe I like to see Meghan wear and sexy stiletto style heels.  Finding my size, I tried them on.  Zipping them up I decided to take it slow, it was extremely sexy, and I caught a glimpse of a man passing by the aisle I was in checking me out.  A tingle went through me and settled in my crotch.

Standing up in them and walking to the mirror I realized that they would take a bit of practice, but I knew as soon as I saw them they were the ones to get.  Sure they looked funny with my jeans rolled up high right now, but they would be drop dead sexy when I wore the new skirt.  Finishing up the transaction, I realized I needed some new underwear to go with this ensemble.

I knew exactly which store to go to, VS.  Every other man’s dream was to be able to walk through there effortlessly and comfortably so no one would know of his excitement and fantasies running through his head.  I had been in a similar boat, but focused not on the pictures hanging of sexy models wearing hardly anything at all and not to mention the typically gorgeous women who worked there, but instead on how sexy Meghan would look in various things, the other pictures and saleswomen were almost non-existent I would be so focused on her.  And now was my chance to act out the fantasy on my own.

Being the middle of the day, and a weekday at that, the store was quiet.  I walked in and the anticipation of buying my first bra and panty set was more than I could take.  I tried to settle myself as one of the clerks asked me if I needed assistance.

“Yes, please…. Thanks.” I replied nervously.

“So what size are you?” asked the clerk.

My mind went blank.  I had all of Meghan’s measurements memorized, but in my nervousness, I couldn’t think. 

Seeing my mental lapse, the clerk asked, “Can I measure you and we’ll find out for sure?  Sometimes women go through life wearing the wrong size because they aren’t properly measured.” 

I think she was saying that to make me feel less nervous, and it worked.

“Sure” I replied as we walked into a fitting room.

Taking off my shirt I was left with just my bra.

“You’ll need to remove that too” The clerk said half-jokingly.

My heart raced.  This total stranger was about to see my breasts!  I was adjusting to this gift I was given; the gift of assuming Meghan’s life, but this was just crazy.  I wasn’t ready for this!

Trying to calm myself, I said, “Oh yeah, I’m sorry” in the ditsiest voice I could muster.

Removing my bra, my breasts were exposed.  With the clerk facing me, I saw her face perk up.

“Wow” she said.  And now she was the one nervous and embarrassed for commenting on me like that.

“Thanks” I replied.

The rest of the fitting went smoothly as it could and she found my size.  Knowing that, I could finish up shopping and left the fitting room.

I was torn between frilly and lacy, or silky and smooth.  It was tough choice, and I chuckled to myself at my predicament.  “How things have changed” I thought to myself.  Only a week or two ago I was stressing over how to resolve customer issue, if customers were happy, and how I would provide for my family another month.  And now my biggest decision and stress is between filly or silky.  “I love my life” I thought.

The decision was silky and smooth.  I bought a black bra and two matching panties.  One thong and one bikini style panty.  I paid for them and was on my way.

Deciding I had already gone over budget so I should leave, I walked past a sporting goods store and my mind deterred off track and I began thinking about my physical condition.  My plan had gotten so detailed that I had actually lost 2 pounds since I assumed Meghan’s life and body because I had followed her diet better than she had, and as a result, my measurements were slightly lower.  But I knew that I needed to keep working out to maintain this beautiful vessel, and my personal trainer had sent me an e-mail about where I’ve been.  Wanting to keep in the spirit of living a better life than the “old Meghan”, I thought it might be fun to get a new outfit of the gym.

“I’ll just take a quick look” I thought to myself, knowing another purchase was inevitable.

Walking to the women’s section, I enjoyed thinking about how certain things would look on me.  I wanted to turn heads at the gym, but didn’t want to look like a slut.  Some of Meghan’s friends worked out there, and I didn’t want to draw too much attention.  I found exactly the right thing.  A very form fitting (I didn’t want to admit it was tight) top that stopped just above my belly button, leaving the lower part of my abdomen exposed.  The shorts were hardly shorts, but were very trendy, even for women my age.  They were a spandex and were extremely short, the legs stopping just 3 or 4 inches or so from the crotch, so it looked like they would fit very tight around my hips and hug my ass, just covering it up.  A devilish grin came across me as I finished paying for my outfit and I looked forward to working out tomorrow.

That night when my old self came home, I told him about my shopping trip.  His face lit up, but he tried to cover up his excitement by saying, “Did you really need that stuff?  And how much did it all cost?”

Timing the conversation perfectly, I stepped out of the bathroom and into our bedroom wearing my black high heel boots, skirt, and new top.  I even teased my hair a bit before I made my grand entrance to add to the show I was going to give him.

My old self quickly sprung up from sitting on the bed to greet me.  Shocked to see his wife in such an outfit blew his mind.

“Oh my God, you look…” he paused trying to figure out the right words.  I knew he was fantasizing about me.  “Unbelievable” he finished.

“Do you like it?” I said teasingly turning a bit for him to see the whole package.

“I don’t know” he said.  “Let me see something”.

Walking up to me I was now 4 or 5 inches taller than him, and he walked up to me and had to look up into my eyes.  He quickly wrapped his hands around my waist and worked them down to my ass, clasping it firmly and pulling me close to him.  I could feel his erection growing and as my hips pushed into his and my breasts began to approach his chest.  Pulling me in, he kissed me.  Softly, at first, and then more passionately.  My body exploded and I got lost in the moment.  All the teasing I had just done to him pent up some sort of passion inside me and I needed his hands on my body, and I signaled for him to do so by slipping my tongue into his mouth, and then wrapping a leg around his, allowing him to support some of my weight while I rubbed closer on him with my thigh.  He began groping me, his hands exploring as fast as they could, but I liked it.  I loved it, in fact.  For a fleeting moment I questioned what I was doing, but my body was calling all the shots, not my brain.  I loved how my new body just reacted to this intimate attention, and I found myself lowering my hand down to his crotch to feel his erection through his dress pants. 

After a few minutes of passion, it was disrupted by a crying child.  We looked at each other and knew the drill.  My old self positioned his erection in his pants so it was no longer as noticeable and went to see what the fuss was about while I tore off my clothes and put my original ones on as quickly as I could to go tend to the child.  In the midst of it, I was surprised how natural that “drill” had occurred.  Once disrupted, we looked into each other’s eyes and knew exactly what to do.  It was comfortable to me, although I wasn’t happy the make-out session ended in the first place.  I pondered why I wasn’t more grossed out about the event.  Ever since I assumed Meghan’s life, I found women sexy, and felt a desire to explore that.  But the more time went on and I got to remain as her, the sight of men also became pleasing.  Maybe my mind is still into women, and my body is drawn to men.  If so, would there be a conflict?  Or would it all work out?  Or was she really bisexual and I didn’t know it?

And as I thought about it some more, I had realized I was acting like the old Meghan when making out.  I smiled.  One of my fantasies from before the change had just come true.  Before this gift, I wondered very often how it felt to be her while I was pleasuring her in some way, and fantasized about being her and feeling that pleasure.  And it felt even better than I could have fantasized.  In her body, I felt things with my whole body, where in my old one it was much more centered on my cock and what it felt.  In her body, even the feeling of how my skin on my legs as my boots rubbed against his leg was just as sexual as my hand rubbing his cock through his pants.  Each sensation was more sensitive than I fantasized about, and I found myself looking forward to exploring this further, but was beginning to believe that since her body practically took control with my old self, that she might have been bisexual.  Ultimately, I didn’t care.  I loved how this body felt and I loved my new life.  I did not want to go back, ever.