Just Look at Me Now Ch. 07

A few minutes later I was back in the dressing room with half of a dozen of the prettiest bras I'd ever seen, much less worn. I ended up choosing one with elaborate stitching and an understated palette of three very similar colors; let's call them tan, champagne, and golden oak. Words can't do it justice, and it remains one of my favorite bras to this day.

I still hadn't chosen my IBTC bra, but we kicked that decision down the road and turned our attention to the Big Bra I needed for my Big Boobs. This required a costume change while Beth and Melinda picked out a simple bra for me to wear while shopping. I kept the panty hose and put on a short black skirt—not quite a mini but damned close. I also removed my blouse and bra since I would need to up-size. "Time for your hair," said Becky as she handed me my wig and helped me position it.

I mentioned the full-length mirror earlier but haven't talked about its visual and emotional impact. There's a reason mirrors are such important symbols in myth and literature, and while we're waiting for for Beth and Melinda to return let me offer a few reflections on my reflections.

As a sissy who doesn't want to suffer harassment, I'm often managing how I will be seen out in the world. Are my panties well hidden? Will my lady bumps or bra straps be visible through my shirt? What are other shoppers thinking when I'm in the cosmetics aisle? What would they think if their X-ray vision revealed my cock cage?

I also spend some time in front of mirrors managing the transition from my masculine to feminine identities—putting on makeup, checking for a beard shadow, getting the seams of my nylons straight, and so on. In public, especially when wearing a hidden bra, I surely check my reflection in shop windows more often than most folks do.

And in erotic play I am sometimes blindfolded, thus losing sight of myself while Jude and Becky turn their female gaze on me. Whose hands are tying up my cock and balls? When I'm ordered to open my mouth, is it to receive a gag, a pair of panties, or a dildo? Bound to the spanking bench, I cannot see how pink or red my butt cheeks are growing, nor know if or when the plug resting on my back will go up my ass. And what will the pictures of all this look like when I finally see them?

I felt the potency of a mirror quite strongly in the dressing room, especially as we proceeded to my big-boob shopping. Of course the mirror offered a new perspective—I could see my shoes and nylons without craning my neck, for example, and I could see my whole body from various angles. What I felt more deeply, however, is that I could see myself as the women saw me. When Becky stood behind me to brush out my wig, she looked over my shoulder into the mirror and saw almost exactly what I saw, and at the same time. I felt both inside my body and outside it, seeing it with a gaze I shared with the women. Because they were accepting, encouraging, and smiling, I felt validated, relatively comfortable considering the unprecedented experience.

Becky had just finished arranging my hair when Melinda and Beth came in with a GG bra which Melinda described as "serviceable"—just something to wear out on the floor while shopping. Beth helped me into it, fastening its wide band and adjusting the straps. The bra was white, and its large cups, empty for the moment, dangled from my chest. Becky took my breast forms from the bag, showed them to Melinda and Beth, and handed them to Jude. Jude bounced them gently in her hands as if to assess their weight, then held them up to her own chest. "I may need to borrow these beauties someday, Nick—I'm a bit envious!" Then she said "Think fast!" as she tossed my boobs to Beth.

Miraculously Beth caught them both. I had visions of the women playing hot potato with my forms but was spared that indignity. "Good catch!" said Jude, "Would you like to do the honors—place those puppies in Nick's bra?"

Beth glanced at Melinda, who granted permission with a nod. "I don't remember this part of the employee handbook," Beth said, but she had me face the mirror, walked behind me, handed one form to Melinda to free up her hand, and reached around my body to place a form in my left cup. Moments later, the right, and suddenly there I was with a full bra and prominent chest. I lifted my hands to feel my new tits. Though they were large and heavy, they also felt natural, satisfying. This was also the moment where I most strongly sensed our shared gaze at my mirrored self.

Now it was time to put on a blouse and head back out to the sales floor. My top, long-sleeved and made of a light-weight wool blend, was bright red. It was a snug fit over any bra, but my "Gigi" boobs made it look like, to quote Hemingway, the hull of a racing yacht.

I remember thinking at the time how things had evolved since I'd first been caught wearing panties just a few months before. Since then I'd experienced bondage, spankings, chastity, butt plugs, maid service, and more. Now I was going to show off my new tits as I shopped for just the right bra to hold them.

When I was ready, Melinda proposed a twist to this search I was undertaking. "I've already picked out one bra that I'm confident is by far the best for you, and I've written down its model." She took a small sealed envelope from a pocket and handed it to Jude. "If you choose the bra I have in mind, all four of the bras you've selected will be yours free. But if you are wrong, you not only have to pay for the bras but must walk down to Starbucks dressed just as you are, with your bulging bosom, and fetch me a pumpkin spice latte. Deal?"

The little statistician in my head didn't like the odds. My internal accountant pointed out that I stood to save perhaps three or four hundred bucks. My memory of the town suggested it would be a 6-8 minute walk each way. My nerd self recognized that I could order with my app to minimize my time inside the store. But in the end I could only listen to my swelling cock.

"Game on," I said.

"Hooray!" said Melinda.

"What a good girl," said Jude as she tucked the envelope into her own bra. "There's just one detail to clear up. We want Nicole to have the experience of taking her bras to the cashier to have them rung up and bagged. So once she's chosen, let's proceed with the checkout as if she is going to pay. Only then should we reveal whether she has chosen the right bra. If so, she can change back into her more modest outfit for the walk back to our place. But if she's wrong, she pays up and it's straight out the door to Starbucks, carrying her purchases in one of your cute little boutique bags." Jude looked me in the eye as she delivered this "suggestion." Her voice and expression indicated that it was really an instruction, and I nodded my assent.

"Let's get this show on the road," said Melinda. "Or perhaps on the street, to be more precise! After you," she added, gesturing for me to lead the way to the sales floor. "I'm really ready for some caffeine."

The order of procession was thus my boobs, then the rest of me, then Jude, Becky, Melinda, and Beth. One thing I hadn't anticipated about this entire experience was how the cohort of shoppers would turn over as they finished their fittings and shopping. I'd been in the store about ninety minutes, so almost all of the women who had seen me earlier were gone, replaced by new shoppers, newly surprised to see a crossdressed guy and his large knockers roaming the aisles.

Again there were some stares, mostly circumspect, some smiles, some whispers, and, I must admit, a scowl or two. None of the new women spoke to me, but the young woman who had asked about my breast forms had stuck around. She came over to me as I was looking at a bra Beth had recommended and whispered in my ear, "I have to ask, are those your real boobs?" This made us both laugh. She took the two bras she had bought from her bag to show to me, then wished me luck. "I'm Jane," she said. "Maybe I'll see you around. Thanks for being a good sport."

"Thank you," I said. "I'm Nick. Do say hi if you see me someday, but discretely, please!"

"Of course. Ciao!"

"Ciao."

All of the GG bras I saw were high quality, but many were more utilitarian than sexy, so sussing out what Melinda had chosen was not quite like finding a needle in a haystack. I chose half a dozen leading candidates fairly quickly, and closer examination and inquiries about matching panties helped me eliminate three of those, leaving me with just three to try on.

Meanwhile I was trying to monitor my emotions about the bargain I'd made with Melinda. I was quite worried about going out in public even for fifteen minutes. Yet, scared as I was, I also wanted to do it. In fact the thought crossed my mind that I could choose a less-than-ideal bra and thus be "forced" to walk the streets crossdressed.

I discarded that idea mostly because it felt dishonest, and by the time we had all traipsed back to the dressing room I'd decided to try on the three bras and simply pick the one I most wanted. If I had to make a latte run, so be it. And if not, I might be cajoled into some similar an errand soon enough.

Which bras caught my eye? I had chosen one of them because it was most different from anything I'd ever worn—a vintage-style bullet bra, in black. It was quite simple, but the cups had a lovely pattern of concentric circles. My second option was a red bra; its semi-transparent fabric was very sexy and would let my nipples show. It also had very tempting matching panties—full-coverage panties just large enough to showcase a bulging cock through its sheer fabric. The third option screamed "Sissy!" A luxurious pink bra with several tiny bows and other rococo adornments, it came with a choice of thong or boy shorts—or both.

Back in the dressing room, I discovered that the red bra not only fit perfectly but also concealed and revealed my breasts and nipples in just the right balance. Jude said she loved the look. The pink bra was Becky's favorite. "If you don't buy this one I might have to get it myself—this glowing pink will be perfect for photos!"

For me it was a toss-up: two fabulous bras, but I couldn't have both, and if I chose the "wrong" one I'd be wearing it down the street to Starbucks. The black bra seemed a little tame or subdued in comparison, and I tried it on partly to stall and partly because I really like putting on bras.

What I saw in the mirror once my boobs were in place was remarkable, and the bullet bra revealed itself as the one I had to have. It wasn't the plain black color, and it wasn't the simple and somewhat thick fabric—it was its architecture, the way it lifted and shaped my boobs, thrust them out, made them, indeed, like bullets... bullets halfway toward being torpedoes.

Could Melinda possible have predicted this choice? It really didn't matter—this was my bra.

I announced my choice, and Melinda snipped off the price tag. "Beth can use this to ring you up, so if you make a coffee run the dangling tag won't spoil your look. By the way, please order extra hot since it's a bit of a walk back here. IF you go, that is. We don't know yet! Well, I know, but anyway... grab your other bras and let's go to the register. You can leave your other stuff here until you get back. You know, IF you go anywhere."

Beth met me out on the floor and went behind the counter to ring up my purchases. "Do you need a gift wrap?" she asked.

"No, these are all for me," I managed to say, well aware that at least two other shoppers were standing close by and listening in.

"I have a question," one of the strangers said to Beth, but I'll wait while you help this... gentleman." She then stood a few feet to my right and watched casually while Beth scanned my items, wrapped each in tissue paper, and put them in one of the boutique's rather elegant paper bags. I thought of the story "The Lady, or the Tiger." Not that I would be torn to shreds for making the wrong choice, but the decisive moment had now arrived.

Beth signaled to Melinda, Becky, and Jude that she was ready to process or cancel the transaction—for just under $400—depending on whether I'd chosen the magic bra. The women gathered around me, and Jude took the envelope from her bosom. "Nicole has chosen the Coquette Bullet Bra in black," she announced. "If that matches Melinda's choice, we're all done here. If not, she's off to Starbucks. So, poker faces everyone!"

Jude opened the envelope, removed a slip of paper, unfolded it, and paused as if about to announce the Academy Award for Best Film. Carefully shielding it from my view, she then showed it to each of the other women. I tried to read their expressions, but they revealed nothing. Finally Jude held the paper up for me to see. You can imagine what happened next.