Freddie Becomes a Cross-Dresser Ch. 03byBOSTONFICTIONWRITER©
I walked over to the lingerie section. There was a woman, an employee, who was bigger than me straightening the merchandise. I tried to move to wherever she wasn't but she had radar as to where my next move was going to be.
"May I help you," she said with that tone to her voice and an icy stare in her eyes. I really didn't want her help, but I felt that I had no choice in the way she glared at me. I didn't want her to think that I was a pervert wanting to feel bras and panties.
"Yes, I'm looking to buy a bra."
"What size," she spit out like a machine gun.
"I'm not sure."
"Well, I can't help pick out a brassiere if you don't even know the size," she said staring at me with her hand on her hip.
Brassiere? Bra sounds better than brassiere. Brassiere sounds like a disease or a piece of beef or a something small that is made out of brass.
"A size 46," I said figuring since that was my jacket size, the bra should be the same circumference, I hoped.
"Forty-six what," she said.
"Yes, forty-six is the size."
"The cup size," she said with an annoyed attitude.
"Oh, the cup size," I said holding my hands up to my chest palms up, as if I was cupping tits while staring down at her giant boobs. I turned red when she caught me looking at her chest. "Double D," I said figuring that my pectoral muscles from doing so many bench presses and pushups over the years were bigger than most women's tits and had to be a double D, again, I hoped.
She brought me over to the section of 46 D and double D. These bras were huge. You could harness a couple of serious boulders over your shoulders with these giant contraptions. Mesmerized by the enormous size of her tits, I looked at her figuring that she certainly could fill out one of these bras. Then, I imagined myself being smothered to death with the pair of her 46 double D size tits. Not such a bad way to die, I thought. I imagined the coroner giving reason of my death to the police.
"Do you know what the cause of death was, doctor?"
"My autopsy will reflect his death as NBDTBBSHTD."
"NBDTBBSHTD? What is that a medical term for, doctor?"
"Not breathing due to big breasts smothering him to death."
"So, judging by the permanent smile etched on his face, would you say that he died happy?"
"Oh, yeah, very happy."
Immediately, I noticed something about the 46D and 46 double D bras. Most of the colors of the bigger sized bras were white, a few were beige, and some were black. They didn't have any of the cool colors that the 32A, 34B, and 36C bras had, such as pink, yellow, orange, red, green, blue, and purple. I even saw this cool chocolate brown bra but it was a size 38 D, much too small to fit my frame. Suddenly, I imagined a Nubian princess removing her blouse and displaying her chocolate brown bra to my probing hands before reaching behind her and unhooking it to show me her big, brown breasts. I liked the brown bra. I wished it was my size. Gees, I'm really getting weird.
I pulled out my notebook to note the lack of colored bras in the larger sizes, a note that not only affected large size cross-dressers, such as myself, but also larger sized women. I was a bit outraged that the sexy styles and cool colors were unavailable in the large size bras. These bra manufacturers were basically telling fuller figure women that they can't be sexy and that's just wrong. Just as there are plenty of women who feel sexy being big and beautiful, there are lots of guys who prefer bigger women to smaller women.
I discovered the same prejudice when it came to panties, too. All the best styles and colors were in the smaller sizes. The larger sized panties were all white, cream, and black granny panties. There was nothing sexy about any of them. They were like the big bloomers that my elderly mother wears. Now, why would a younger woman, just because she is bigger in size want to wear bloomers instead of panties?
I had no idea what size panty I would take. I held up a few of the larger pair against me. The feeling that someone was watching me made me turn my head to see the saleswoman watching me holding up the panties.
"They're for my mother," I said.
"If you say so," she said with a shrug, a snide smirk, and a little laugh.
At that point, I didn't care what she thought of me. Yet, I started getting pissed off. Maybe, I am a guy looking to buy clothes to cross-dress, but, damn it, I'm a paying customer and deserve just as much respect and service as any other customer.
I pulled out my notebook and wrote my observations.
"Can I see your manager," I said.
"Manager?" She got a panicked look on her face when she saw me writing in my notebook. "I can help you with whatever you need, sir." Her attitude did a 180. "How large a woman is your mother?"
"Not as large as you," I said peering around at her ass and giving her the same snide smirk and laugh that she gave me.
She shuffled through the rack and pulled out a few selections, most were white cotton, but one was a light blue silk. The blue silk panty was the perfect panty to go with my navy blue dress.
"I like the silk," I said. "I mean, I'll take the silk pair. I know my mother prefers silk panties to cotton." I could feel myself turning red. "I heard her say that to her friend."
"Yes, of course," she said this time giving me a warm smile.
"I need a slip, too."
"Full or half?"
I had no idea what she meant at first, but then realized what she was asking me.
Now, with dress, shoes, handbag, bra, panties, and slip in hand, I only needed to buy pantyhose.
"Is there anything else," she said when she saw me looking around.
"They are at the front of the store."
Picking out the pantyhose was easy. The packages had the weights and heights on the back. They should make the rest of women's clothes with weights and heights instead of marketing them as miss, misses, juniors, junior miss, petites, and full figure. Guys' clothes are easy with most of our stuff in small, medium, large, extra large and extra, extra large. Then, again shirts list neck and sleeve size, pants by waist and inseam, and suit coats by chest size. Still, it's much easier to buy guys clothes than it is to buy women's clothes.
Except for the makeup and perfume, I was done. I figured buying makeup would be easy. I've watched my girlfriend put her makeup on enough times. I just need lipstick, that stuff she puts on her eyelids and eyelashes, and rouge or face makeup or mask or whatever the Hell it is. I'll ask questions. Perfume was easy. I'll just buy what smells good.
This cross-dressing is not as difficult as I thought it would be to do.
To be continued...