2  _Joe_Bates_Saga___________________________________________________________


2.  Chapter :      The Mall



Joe went out to the parking area and opened the door of his RX-7.  He
sat in the semi-reclining seats, and found that not only could he
barely see over the steering wheel, he was unable to depress the clutch
pedal to shift gears.  He adjusted the seat, until he found a position
which suited his new, smaller, proportions.  The seat belt pinched his
breasts until he adjusted the shoulder trap so that it passed between
those unfamiliar mounds.

Driving over to the mall, he remembered to be very careful, since a
traffic ticket, or an accident, would probably cause extraordinary
problems.  His mind was racing to consider the possibilities:  where he
would go, how much money he had, what he had to buy, when he was
startled again by the recognition that he had no purse.  He tried to
remember if he had ever seen a woman without a purse on a shopping
trip, or if he had ever seen a woman take a wallet out of her hip
pocket to pay for something.  Deciding the answer was no, he made a
note to remove his cash, ATM card, and some credit cards from his
wallet.  He decided that his first purchase would be a purse and a
woman's wallet.  "Damn," he thought, "this isn't going to be easy."

Pulling off the highway into the parking lot, he parked near the
entrance to Sears.  He always parked by Sears, and walked through the
store on his way into the mall.  As he walked in, he found himself in
the lingerie department.  It seemed whenever you walked into Sears, you
walked into women's panties.  Normally, he might sneak furtive glances
at the sexy undies and the women trying to decide from the huge
selection of sizes, styles, and colors.  Today, it was his time to
decide.

He could not believe the variety.  Although he liked the way women
looked in sleek, sexy, string bikinis, when he took one from the rack
and held it up, he could not imagine wearing something like that.  He
looked at high-leg, strings, and hip-huggers, in nylon and cotton, lace
and sheer, and all in every color of the rainbow.  He liked the soft,
smooth textures.

He finally settled on some hip-huggers which came in a little tube of
three colors, and were labeled "Jockey for Her." He was not sure if it
was brand loyalty, or just that, by selecting those, he did not have to
decide on color.  He looked at some traditional briefs, high leg type,
without any decoration, which came in a variety pack of pastel colors,
and decided that he would take one of those too.  He hoped he could
figure out a way out of his predicament before he needed any more.

Bras were even harder to select.  He did not really know what size he
was, and he was not sure how find out.  He was about ready to hold a
bra he thought might fit up to his chest, when a cute salesgirl came up
and asked if she could help.

"Can I be of assistance?" she asked.

Embarrassed, he mumbled nervously that he was looking for a bra.

"And what is your size?" she asked, smiling.

"I don't remember," he lied, and then realized how ridiculous that
probably sounded.  "I mean, I lost some weight lately, and I might need
a new size," he tried, hoping that made more sense.

"Sure," she said.  "Come on back, and let's measure you."

She started to walk to the dressing rooms.  He followed her into one of
small cubicles and stood next to her.  She looked at him.  He did not
want to show his chest to this girl.

Finally she said, "You will have to remove, or at least, pull up that
top, please," she said, looking at him strangely.

He pulled the sweatshirt over his head, and removed his oversize men's
shirt.  She seemed surprised, when she saw he was not wearing a bra.
His heart pounded, as this girl, who yesterday he might have asked out,
took a cold measuring tape and encircled first his chest below his
breasts, and then, pulled it snugly across his erect nipples.  "I think
we had better try a 34B," she said.

She went out, and a moment later returned with a glossy pink underwire,
with the clasp in front, between the cups.  He looked at the dainty
thing, and fumbled as he attempted to put his arms into the proper
places between the tangle of straps.  The girl watched in amusement.
"I wonder what she's thinking?" he thought as he pulled the straps
around his back and roughly pulled the cups over his curves.

When he felt he had it positioned correctly, he stopped, and the girl
began tugging and poking at the cups and straps, checking for tightness
and gaps.  Her soft touch made him feel strange, and he just knew his
face was red as a beet.

"Looks right.  How does it feel?" she asked.

"If you only knew," he thought, but said, "Feels fine to me."

"Well, I'll let you browse," she said, "Just ask if I can be of further
assistance."

"Thank you," he said, removing the sexy thing as she left the small
room.

He was putting his shirt back on when his breasts reminded him that he
should get a bra to wear while trying on clothes.  Besides, he probably
should have more than one of these things anyway.  He left the pink
bra, and his sweatshirt, in the dressing room, and went back out to
select another.  "Well, now I know what size I am at least," he
thought, grinning.

As he looked, he decided that he did not want any type but front close,
since he figured that those were difficult enough.  He picked a flesh
tone, seamless cup number, he knew Linda wore that kind, and she sure
looked good in it.  Reconsidering, he grabbed two of them, wondering if
Linda's breasts were larger, or smaller, than his.

He concluded they were probably about the same, and realized he was
grinning like some kind of idiot.  As he made his way back to the
dressing room, he decided to get one more.  It was plain, and white,
like he imagined a nurse might wear, and of course, it was front close.
"A proper bra for a guy like me," he thought, sarcastically.

Entering the cubicle, he removed his shirt again.  More experienced
this time, he carefully put the white bra on, and adjusted the straps
for fit.  "How does it feel?" he mimicked to himself.  "Damn weird," he
answered silently.

After he had paid for the underwear, giving the girl the empty box and
telling her he was wearing the white one, he walked out into the mall
and thought how funny it was that he had bought panties and bras at
Sears, the place he usually thought of only for tools to work on his
sports car.

Walking down the corridor he entered a shoe store and started to look
at the women's shoes.  A man came over and asked if he could help.
"Yes," he said, and selected a few pairs to try on.  One of them had a
low heel.  He sat, and removed his oversize shoes and his socks.  The
salesman came over and measured his foot.  "Got to remember this size,"
he thought.

The man returned with some boxes, and handed him some cut off nylons.
Looking at them he wondered why, then he remembered that women wore
nylons.  While trying on shoes the foot had to be covered for some
health department reason.  He slipped the nylon booty on, and tried on
his first pair of "girl shoes."

They were simple navy blue, with a two-inch heel, and they fit, though
it seemed as though they stopped too early on his foot.  He awkwardly
walked a few steps, all the while thinking he did not know how he could
possibly fake anyone into thinking he was a woman, wearing these
things.  He decided to get a pair of women's exercise shoes too.  They
would be easier to walk in, he knew.  He then paid for the shoes, and
after receiving the change, decided it was time to get a purse.

Next, he entered Dillard's.  As he walked into the store, his nose was
assaulted by the smell of cosmetics.  Normally he could to get a
headache just walking through this section of a department store.  A
woman walked up, and asked him to try a perfume.  He started to say he
did not wear perfume, when it occurred on him that he had no makeup on,
and he figured women usually wore makeup, at least in public.  "Oh,
hell," he thought.  "What am I going to do about this?" He nodded, "No
thanks," and moved over to a cosmetic case and began to look.

A woman in a white smock saw him, and offered to help.  He nodded yes,
and she led him over to a mirror and a chair.  Looking at his face, the
woman said, "If you have some time, I have some things that would look
very nice on you.  Did you have anything special in mind?" Joe replied
that he did not, but that he would like to see what she could do for
him.

Sensing a good sale, the woman walked behind the counter and came out
with a whole series of things.  In the next fifteen minutes, the
saleswoman did complete make-over of his face.

Starting with a base, she applied a very light layer to his entire
face.  Then she moved to his eyes, and applied first eyeliner, then
some mascara, and finally some shadow.  She then applied some blush to
his cheeks, and finally offered a lipstick.  All the while, she kept
chattering about how to apply the makeup, the pros and cons, and
telling him with both words and looks that he was starting to look
pretty good.  She commented on his rather exotic hair style.  "Yea," he
thought, "exotic."

Finally she held a mirror to his eyes so that he could look, and look
he did.  He appeared completely different, completely female in the
face, and, he thought, attractive.  Not drop dead beautiful, but
attractive.

Standing back with her arms folded, the saleswomen asked what he
thought.  "I like it," Joe replied.  "It's very nice."

With that, he began buying all the makeup the women suggested, until
finally, he began to worry about the cost.  As he reached into his
jeans, he noticed that he was down to a few hundred dollars and that
amount was about to be severely damaged by this purchase.  Nevertheless
there was nothing he could do about it.  The salesperson noticed his
American Express card, and said that they accepted American Express.
He offered her the card, and she rang up the sale and dialed in the
number on the verification modem.  As she did that he remembered the
card was in his name, and that it was his signature on the back.  The
salesperson did not even look at the back, but gave him back the card
and asked him to sign his name.  When he thought about it, he decided
that she probably thought he was his own wife.  It would be a perfectly
natural assumption.

Next stop, some clothes to wear outside the underwear.  He took the
escalator up to women's dresses, and began to go through the racks
looking for something.  He was not sure of what he wanted, what size,
or color, or style, and was actually relieved when a saleswoman asked
to help him.

"May I help you, miss?" she said.

Together, they picked out a navy blue skirt that he said he liked, two
blouses, which the saleswoman recommended, and a couple of dresses.
One had small flowers on a light background, the other was a simple
knit dress.  Then they moved back to skirts, and selected a couple
which Joe thought looked as though a school teacher might wear.  He
picked a couple of silky blouses worn by a mannequin which caught his
masculine eye.  "What the heck?" he thought.  "If I have to wear them,
I might as well like what they look like."

The saleswoman took the clothes, and led him to the dressing room.  He
hoped she would not expect to go in with him while he undressed.  He
was wearing his men's black bikini briefs, and they looked a little
strange, with their "contoured pouch" bunched up between his legs, but
she only showed him to an empty cubicle, and helped him carry his many
selections.

Here, in the ladies fitting area, he could see women through the wide
slats, which served for doors to the small dressing areas.  They were
trying on dresses too, and were in various stages of undress.  His male
eyes, and brain, could not keep from looking.

A young woman, probably about his age, was in the compartment directly
across from his.  She was a goddess, with long blond hair, almost to
her waist.  She was standing in her underwear, an almost transparent
flesh-toned bra, with matching panties, which hid nothing, from the tip
of her toes to the tips of her firm breasts.  He stared as she pulled a
sweater over her head, unconsciously wriggling erotically as she did
so.  His heart pounded, and he thought he would die right there.  He
felt familiar stirrings of arousal coming from his groin, and he
reached down to rub his cock.  The damp softness he encountered,
brought him back to reality.  "She ain't for you right now, tiger," he
sighed.  Frustrated, he looked away, and back at the rack of clothes.

He tried the little floral print dress on first.  Not knowing if it fit
well, he walked out barefoot, into the mirror area where the woman
waited for him.

"That looks very nice on you, sweetie," she said.

He turned around in the dress and found himself looking over his small
shoulder, into the mirror.  He looked so much like a woman, it almost
made him cringe.  He went back, tried on the rest of the clothes, and,
to the saleswoman's delight, purchased all of them.

Again, he offered the American Express card, and again, no one
questioned his signature.  Laden with packages, he started to the
escalator when he came to Parklane Hosiery.  "Pantyhose," he thought.
"I'll probably need some to wear with these dresses."

He started reading the back of the packages, and figured out his size.
He now knew he had size thirty-four hips.  He purchased three pairs, in
as many colors.  He looked around the store, at the plastic legs
covered with all types of sexy stockings and panty-hose.  He saw some
ladies' athletic type cotton socks, and decided he should get some like
that to go with his exercise shoes.

Going down the escalator, he ran over his mental list of things to get,
and felt satisfied that he had gotten everything.  He left the store
and started back to his car when he remembered the purse.  He ducked
into a store, and quickly selected both a purse and ladies' wallet.  He
had to return home, and get in costume.  He had a meeting with Jay for
lunch.