Her response was a silent gesture towards the bench. Laid out were three garments, each challenging my sense of self and comfort. "Can I get some real clothing?" The words were a plea, a wish to cling to a shred of my past identity amidst the unrecognizable present.
She laughed, “You need to get used to wearing feminine clothing eventually.”
“I get the bra. But can I get something other than panties and a dress?”
“You should get used to the panties now as well. The dress…just put it on for me?” I growled at her. Her ears perked up as her lips curled back a little to show her teeth. Her growl was lower than mine and sent shivers down my spine. I instantly shut up and gave in.
Grabbing the bra, I slid my arms through both loops and tried to clip it behind me. Each time I failed she chuckled until finally she just burst into laughter. “Stop laughing at me. How the hell do you women put these things on every day?”
“Us women. You’re a woman to, or you will be.” Her arms waved away the parts of me that were still male. “Anyway, turn the thing around and clip it on in the front. Then rotate it into place and put arms through the straps.”
I pulled my arms out of the straps and turned the bra around. Now that I could see the clips, I was able to easily snap them together. Finally rotating the torture device masquerading as a torture device around and sliding my arms into the straps. The bra molded itself to my body as soon as I finished sliding both breasts into it. Recalling how often I had overheard people in the locker room complaining about these things, I asked, “Why are these things not made with some sort of nano tech to make this easier.”
“Oh, most of them are. But I figured you should know how to put on the ones that are not.” That surprised me.
“Wait, most of your bras are made for ease of use?”
“Yeah, are yours not?”
“No,” I shook my head. “At least I don’t think they are. Something about there not being enough money in doing so or something else. I never really paid much attention to be honest.”
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“Well, that would be one of the differences between your species and ours. With the majority of the population being female, the ones that have to deal with that sort of issue is the men.”
Sliding the panties up my legs, I could tell they didn’t fit quite right. Especially with my dick starting to wake up. Focusing, I tried to bring up images of another man, naked, standing in front of me. Instead of the typical reaction one would expect, my member grew harder. On top of that, my nipples seemed to stiffen.
When they did so, they rubbed against the fabric of the bra. The sudden sensation caused my eyes to widen. I knew that those things were sensitive, but god damn. Quickly banishing the mental image, I thought about an icy lake. Imagining myself plunging into it. A shiver traveled from the tips of my toes to my head, and back down.
Feeling the pressure receding from down there, I moved on. Sighing at the thought of what I was about to put on next, I reached for the dress. It was a simple piece. The color was a dark blue with a strip of white for a sash in the middle. Sliding it on, I looked down at how loose it felt.
Kyla approached with an air of practiced grace, her motions smooth and assured. "Let me," she offered, her voice soft but commanding. Her fingers beckoned me to turn away, and as I complied, I felt the subtle brush of the dress against my skin. She was close now, her presence enveloping as the dress began to conform to my body.
The zipper whispered its ascent, sealing the fabric along my spine, while the dress hugged my chest in an unfamiliar embrace. Kyla's warmth radiated against my neck, her breath a delicate ghosting over my skin, stirring strands of hair with each exhale as she leaned in. The sash in her grasp danced around my waist, the fabric whispering against itself.
The sash pulled taut, her deft fingers working quickly, securing it with a gentle finality. I turned to face her, the movements still strange in this new attire. "Thank you," I said, my voice laced with genuine gratitude. "I don't know how I would have managed to get that on without you.
Her smile held a hidden narrative, one of understanding and a hint of amusement. "You wouldn’t have even tried," she teased gently. Extending her hand, she offered not just assistance but a connection. "Now, how about some breakfast?"
Taking her hand felt like a step towards normalcy, a semblance of routine in a world turned askew. We moved together, her lead sure and comforting. Yet, as we passed the vent, a playful gust flirted with the hem of my dress, teasing the skin of my legs with unexpected coolness. The dress, animated by the breeze, lifted in a flirtatious twirl. I stifled the surprise that tried to escape my lips, vowing inwardly that such a startled sound would remain my secret. Never would I confess to such an undignified reaction—not even to myself.
