FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

_DISCLAIMER NUMBER ONE: This story contains sexual content that takes place between two teenage fictional characters. In no way does the author condone real-life pederasty/pedophilia, which is illegal in most civilized societies.

DISCLAIMER NUMERO EL DOS-O: the characters of "Alk" and "Schrodi" are based on characters RP'ed on Tapestries MUCK by their respective creators. Send either one of us a tell sometime and come play!_

I brace myself by holding onto the wall of the stall and and try to catch my breath. I blink hard, feeling my brain begin to work again. I stare at the squiggle of white goo that I had just blasted into the toilet bowl.

Orgasms often give me frightening moments of mental clarity. This particular post-orgasmic moment brought all recent facts into crystal-clear sharpness--I had met a girl at the mall. This girl was actually a crossdressing guy, but a girl in pretty much every other respect. I nearly got beaten up by her, but showing her my panties got me slapped instead. We talked and confessed to each other why we did what we did.

And right now, I am alone and completely naked--save for my socks, shoes and a pair of purple panties (which is currently dangling down between my calves, the straps splayed like the tendrils of a lackadaisical jellyfish) in a stall in the womens' bathroom. At the mall. With my spooge-dripping dick in my hand.

"How in the HELL did I wind up here today?" I ask myself quietly, reaching for some TP to clean up. No sooner than I do, and pull up my panties, than I hear a knock on the stall door. I just about jump three feet, my tail going all bottle-brushy. "GAHH!"

"It's just me," says a familiar throaty purr. "Did I...interrupt anything?"

"ER UM AH," I stammer. "No! No, just...regular, uh, bathroom...activities. Did you get them?" I flush the toilet.

"Of course!" Alika hefts a plastic shopping back over the stall door. "Your tennies should be fine as-is, there's nothing particularly masculine about them. But, everything else..."

I open the bag. Looks like a girls' sweatshirt and jeans, nothing too fancy but decidedly more feminine than what I was wearing before. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

"Absolutely. Don't worry about your boy clothes, they're stashed in a locker near the hardware store. Now, hurry up!" I struggle with the jeans--they squeeze my legs in a not-unpleasant way. I pump my legs to slide them up, like I remember seeing in a commercial. Alika keeps talking. "I don't mean to be crude, but while I was gone, did you, ah..." She makes a rhythmic smacking noise with her cheek.

"WHAT? No! I..." Oh, what's the point of lying? "Fine, you caught me. The feeling of possibly being caught really had me agitated. Besides, I was afraid I was going to, uh, show through the clothes."

"Doesn't bother me, hon. I was actually going to suggest it. We don't need our cover blown by any 'tenting' problems, do we?" She chuckles, and I roll my eyes. She's enjoying this a tiny bit too much for my taste. "Oh, and don't forget to use a little toilet paper to pad--"

"I know, okay? I'm not stupid."

"Do you need help with the bra?"

"No, no, I think I got it...I...yeah, I got it."

"Good! Now, let's see you."

I take a deep breath and step out of the stall. I'm wearing the girl-cut jeans that emphasize my calves, thighs, hips and butt, a carefully-stuffed bra and a poofy sweatshirt that hides the fact that I don't have any real curves. I foof out my longish hair with one hand, but by the look on Alika's face, it's not quite good enough. "Well?"

"Hmm." She's leaning with her rear propped up on the sink counter, legs crossed, her chin resting on her knuckles, judging me. "You'd probably fool most people at a glance. But I think we can do better than that." He gestures to me. "C'mere, let's get you made up!"

"Makeup? A-are you sure?" I step over to the sinks, noticing my reflection for the first time. I'm definately still me; no miraculous transformation like in the stories I've read. I guess I'm passable-ish, but right now all I see is a guy wearing girl clothes, standing in the wrong bathroom. I gulp.

"Clothes are just part of the transformation process," says Alika, rooting around in her purse and pulling out about a dozen bits and pieces of fur-care and makeup paraphernalia; most of which I don't even know what it is or what it does. "We need to make you convincing close up, or else this is not going to work. Besides, don't you want to be pretty?"

I smile sheepishly. "Yeah...in for a penny, in for a pound, I guess."

"Good girl. Now then..."

Alika works me over for a few minutes. She brushes out my headfur and works in some hairspray to give it more shape and body--good thing I've been avoiding getting a trim. Alika applies a little foundation, some rouge, eyeliner, mascara, all in small amounts, blending it carefully into my facefur. She's obviously had a lot of practice with this, and I'm grateful for her efforts, but I can't help being nervous and fidgety. "Stop that," she says as I shift from one foot to the other. "Applying makeup demands precision and patience. If you don't stay still, you're gonna look like a clown hooker."

I'm about to tell her that I can't help it when the door opens. An older lady enters--I notice that she's a dark-furred wolfess in business attire, though I don't dare to look straight at her. I'm frozen to the spot, stiff with fear. The lady walks over to the stalls and enters one, closing the door without giving either of us a second glance. I breathe a sigh of relief, though I can still feel beads of sweat forming on my brow.

Alika breaks the silence. "So, hon, what do you think of this lipstick color?" She pulls out a tube and extends the peach-colored stick.

"We should get out of here," I whisper tersely. I want very badly to run away, but I don't think I can move my feet. It's as if I'm glued to the spot! "She's gonna know!"

Alika casts a disapproving gaze down on me. "Not until you're properly made up," she hisses. "Don't you dare freak out on me now, we haven't even begun yet!"

"I don't think I can do this!" I'm trying to keep my voice low, but the acoustics make my words bounce all around the room.

"You CAN do this," she whispers. "I know you're nervous but you've got to get over it. Once in a lifetime chance, remember?"

"Yeah, but--" I don't get a chance to finish my thought. The toilet flushes and the wolfess walks over to wash her hands. I don't like the look on Alika's face.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" she asks the wolfess. "I'm sorry to bother you. My little cousin here never wears makeup, and I'm trying to teach her how to properly apply it. Can I get your opinion on how she looks?"

The wolfess turns and peers at me with those "my, grandma, what big eyes you have" eyes. Her brow furrows in concentration as she dries her hands. Some ancient instinctual fear of canines is pumping adrenalin directly into my brain. My heart is pounding so hard I'm surprised she can't hear it. I'm surprised people outside the ROOM can't hear it. I want to die, run, and pee my pants all at the same time, and it's a matter of seconds before I do at least one of them...

And then she smiles. "I think you used a bit too much rouge, dear. And peach is certainly not her color--she'd look far better with a pink lipstick. That's just my opinion, of course."

"You know, I think you're right," said Alika, rummaging in her purse again. "Thank you so much!" She nudges me. "Th-thank you," I squeak out. The wolfess tosses her paper towel in the trash and leaves. As the door closes, I remember how important breathing is.

"Well!" says Alika. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

I stagger a little. "My heart...explode...brain seizing in fear...can't feel...legs..." I stammer.

Alika snerks. "Please! That was nothing. Try getting lost in a bad part of town dressed in a strapless evening gown and heels. At night. Er, long story." She finds the lipstick she's looking for. "If there's one thing I've learned by dressing like this, it's that chasing your bliss means ignoring your fears. Now unclench and let me paint those pretty lips of yours..."

Moments later, we're walking together in the mall--I'm a little frazzled but working hard on not looking like it. "Crap, I just realized--what about my voice?" I ask Alika.

"Well, for a guy, it isn't very low," she says. "Still, if you talk too much, it'll be a dead giveaway. You haven't had the benefit of vocal training like I have, so if you have to talk, just talk quietly. I'll cover for you." She glances over at me. "You need to switch your hips a little more as you walk, and don't slump. Let your curves express your femininity and the rest of the body language will follow."

"Like this?" I attempt her suggestion.

"Uh, no. Bring that in by about half. Switching your hips and wiggling your butt are two different things. You'll get the hang of it. Ah, here we are!"

I haven't been watching where we're going. We're in front of the store I was staring into about an hour ago, before all this happened, wishing I could go down there and pick out some clothes. "Surreal," I mutter, feeling my mouth go dry as we enter together.

I've never really been in a shop like this before. When I was a kid, my mom would drag me along shopping, and I'd stare at the floor and daydream or play a video game or just sit and complain until we left. I never realized all the different styles of clothes--blouses, sweaters, skirts, a myriad of choices in style, color, fabrics and cuts. It was all a bit overwhelming, and I feel dazed by all the possibilities open to me. Alika senses my hesitation and takes me by the hand. "C'mon. I think your sizes are going to be over here...you're one up from petite, I think. We'll have to be careful to pick the right size."

After a few minutes of browsing, I start to relax. I can feel myself settling into more girlish gestures and expressions, though it's a struggle to maintain the outward image of femininity. But after all this time fantasizing about being dressed in girl clothes, I'm still not exactly sure what I want to wear. It all seems so nice but I'm not sure what I'll look good in.

Finally, Alika picks out something for me--a breezy, soft, white sundress--and holds it up against me. "Here. This should go well with your fur."

"Um...you want me to try this on? Here?" Gulp, again.

She rolls her eyes. "Are we gonna have to keep going through this over and over again? Yes, I want you to try it on here. We'll get a better idea of your size that way." She hands it to me and gives me a playful shove in the direction of the changing booths. "Go on! Shoo! Get thee hence, girly. I'll be right here when you get out." Sheepishly, I make for the booths, a nervous shiver passing through me.

I get in and stare at the mirror, wondering if the old stories about two-way mirrors and security cameras are true. (I don't THINK they are, but if I check the urban legends website when I get home and find out I'm wrong, it's gonna eat at me for weeks.) I take a deep breath and strip to my scanties, making sure the bra isn't becoming unstuffed. Thankfully, the dress is pretty high-cut, or else you'd be able to see that I don't have much in the way of cleavage...I've never worn a dress before, so getting it on feels a bit awkward; I struggle with sliding it on over my head and arms. There's a sash thing at the waist, and I fumble with it, tying it into a workable bow, though something tells me I'll have to re-do it.

That's when I get a glance of myself in the mirror, and I nearly have to catch my breath. Who IS that? I've never seen her before...but she looks so familiar. I pull my headfur out of the collar and let it rest, poofing it up a bit. The illusion is very nearly complete! Another shiver passes through me, and I'm suddenly very conscious of my body's reactions. I hold my breath for a second, concentrating on making sure that I don't get too excited, either emotionally or--eep!--physically. The sensation passes but the thrill remains.

"How does it fit?" asks Alika.

"Um...I guess it's, uh..."

"Come on out and show me, then."

"A-are you sure?"

"For the last time, yes!" Alika's voice gently chides. "Come on out of the cocooon, little butterfly. We want to see your wings." Her voice has a teasing lilt, but there's a warmth to it, too. She must know exactly what this is like.

I take another deep breath, and release it. "Okay." I step out of the changing booth.

Alika looks me up and down, arms crossed and a tiny smile on her lips. There's a strange sort of pride in her eyes. "Do I look okay?" I ask.

She reaches for her purse with one hand and gestures me over with the other. I walk towards her, and the bewitching feeling of being practically naked underneath this flimsy, gauzy dress makes me a little lightheaded. Alika pulls a length of pink ribbon out and turns me around, tying it into my headfur. She also re-does the sash at the waist, tying it into a proper bow. "Finishing touches, and..." Alika takes my hand and walks me over to the three-way mirror.

I gasp. The scraggly, slumpy, nondescript teenage cat I expecting to greet me in the glass is nowhere to be seen. In his place is a beguilingly pretty young kitten in a lovely dress that compliments her slight curves. Her face is kind, with an angular, boyish sort of quality that amplifies the softness and radiance that her femininity exudes. She has long headfur with a lovely pink bow tied in it.

I gasp again, and her pink lips part and echo my gasp. I hold my breath.

"Do you see what I see?" asks Alika, quietly.

I turn to her--I can already feel the tears welling up. "I'm...I'm pretty..." I squeak out.

Alika is quick with a handkerchief, already dabbing at my eyes and blotting my tears. "You always were, sweetheart," she purrs. "Now you're pretty on the outside, too." I laugh, delighted. "Now twirl for me." She smirks at my quizzical expression. "You heard me. Go on, you know you want to."

I steal a glance around. Nobody's watching. I put one foot behind the other and twirl, my skirts flying up around my knees! The sudden WHOOSH of air around my bare legs feels indescribably exhilarating, and it draws out a girl-pitched giggle from deep within me. "Wow! That was..." I laugh, and do it again, only faster this time--my skirts swing out so fast that I flash my panties at half the store. I slap my hands down over my dress, suddenly mortified. "Eep."

Alika puts a hand on my shoulder and chuckles. "Oookay. We've learned a lesson here, haven't we? Girlish exuberance is a good thing, but it can quickly go too far."

"Uh...yeah...good to know. Thanks." So far today, I have blushed more times than I ever have in my life. It feels like my cheeks are going to explode.

"Is there something I can help you with?" The saleslady must have been drawn by my little display, and is giving us both the evil eye. With poise and dignity intact, Alika answers, "Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. My little sister here would like this dress, and three more in the same style. In turquoise, peach and...what do you say, sweetheart? Pink, to go with your eyes?"

Little sister? I blink a couple of times, and try a soft, girlish voice. "Yes...that would be wonderful." Not bad, but not great, either. In any case, it seems to satisfy the saleslady. "Also, milady will be wearing this home," says Alika, pulling the tag off my dress and handing it to her. "Feel free to ring us up as soon as you find the other dresses. 'kay?"

A few minutes later, we walk out of that store with a bag full of beautiful dresses, and I still can't believe we got away with it. "Alika," I say, "I'm just...in shock. Thank you so much for everything you've done for me today...I don't know what to say!"

"Well, for starters, you can tell me your shoe size," she says, as I struggle to match her long-legged stride. "There's a shop on the second floor that has some really great imports from Italy--okay, they're knockoffs, but the quality is actually pretty good. You're gonna be amazed how an elevated heel shapes your posture and enhances your curves."

"What? No, no, I couldn't possibly--"

"You could, you can and you totally will!" she says. "I'm going to get you into some nice shoes, you're going to learn how to walk in them, and then we'll REALLY start shopping." She flashes me an eager smile. "I've been looking to pick up a hobby, and you're turning out to be a nice fixer-upper."

Holy crap! I think to myself. I'm going to have to keep this up all DAY?

The shoe store is an...interesting experience. I don't exactly have dainty feet, and Alika has the clerk running himself ragged trying to find a pair that would fit me. We finally settle on a cute pair of red patent leather pumps, and the fitting is an experience in and of itself. As the clerk guides my footpaw into the glossy red shoe with his hand around my ankle, he looks up at me and gives me a slimy wink--I'm pretty sure he knows he's putting ladies' shoes on someone who isn't a lady, and it looks like he's getting off on it. It would have been kinda exciting if he wasn't a middle-aged, bald-spotted, weaselly little...well, weasel. (I can say that, my best friend in third grade was a weasel. Uh, ferret. Whatever the correct term is. He was a nice guy, really good at soccer. I'm NOT a speciesist!) Anyway, a glare and a growl from Alika ends his sleazery real quick. I look up and whisper "thank you" to her. I start to understand how nice it is to have a big sister looking out for me.

A few minutes' practice in the back of the store, and I'm doing okay in my new heels. They're a bit taller than I would like, but a glance in the mirror shows that what Alika said about my posture is completely correct. She's amazed at how quickly I pick up walking heel-to-toe; but really I'm just motivated to get out of that store--the clerk's starting to get excited again, and I doubt that anything short of a hard slap from the tiger-girl is going to keep him from being interested. We pay for our shoes and leave.

From there on, my day becomes a whirlwind of shops, boutiques and flashing plastic. We traverse the mall, me happily click-click-clicking away alongside Alika in my cute new heels, ducking in and out of shops, trying on dozens of dresses and outfits. As the day wears on, my fears dull and begin to evaporate--I'm still nervous about being found out, but I'm having so much fun being pretty that I just can't be bothered to think about it too much. I'm tempted to get a manicure and a makeover, but after talking about it, we both decide that it'd be best not to do anything to myself I can't undo at the end of the day. Nail polish would DEFINATELY be noticeable at the dinner table tonight.

At one point, we stop at one of the anchor stores to have a valet take our bags to Alika's car--I don't see why we can't just walk the bags out ourselves, but Alika insists. While we place the bags on the guy's cart, I couldn't help noticing that the valet was giving me a shy smile. He's a handsome blue-eyed husky with dark streaks running down his muzzle, and his wagging tail is giving him away. Now, I'm no stranger to the concept of bisexuality; I mean, being with a guy is something I've never really ruled out--I just really prefer girls, is all. But I can't say that my heart doesn't melt when he meets my gaze and looks away bashfully, then back at me with a little blush in his cheeks. What else could I do but go with my first instinct? I bat my lashes at him and return his smile, my own tail giving a little curl-flick. It was hard to know when exactly to break eye contact--after all, no girl had ever done that to me or anything. I guess I looked a little too long, because Alika nudged me in the ribs, breaking the spell, and hands the guy his tip. She whispers to me as we walk away--"I saw that, naughty girly. You flirt with boys often?"

"Huh? No! I wasn't--ERK!" Flustered, I trip over my feet and skitter for a half-dozen steps, tottering wildly, windmilling my arms and trying to balance. I recover and look behind me--the cute husky is watching me with that same smile, only wider. I laugh self-consciously and give him a little wave. Alika grabs me by my arm and straightens me out, then drags me along by my hand. "That's enough of that," she says, chuckling. "Incorrigible little tart, you."

"But I wasn't flirting!" I sputter. "Do you--do you really think he was...?"

Alika winks at me. "I don't think there's any chance he wasn't. You're a cute girl, Schrodi. You're going to have to get used to guys going all googly-eyed over you every now and then."

I think about this quietly for a minute. Passable was one thing, but being cute enough to attract guys? That was something I hadn't really considered. I start to daydream about what might happen if I went back there and talked to the husky valet, maybe even asked for his number. Would he give it to me? What would I do if I got it? I'm lost in my own happy little dream-world for a while--so lost that I don't even notice what store Alika's dragging me into until I'm just ready to walk into it. I look up to see the oh-so-familiar "Froederick's Of Follywood" logo (my mom gets their catalogs...that is, if I don't get them first) and I slam on the brakes so hard I swear my heels leave skid-marks on the floor. "Alika! No!" I hiss under my breath. "Anything but this! I really, REALLY can't do this one!" All the panic I've been suppressing for hours is coming back, big-time. I can feel hyperventilation coming on, and I fight myself to control it.

Alika turns and looks at me, giving me a calming look. "Sweetheart, this is the last stop on the tour. A girl can't feel pretty on the outside until she has something pretty to wear on the inside, and those bargain-basement granny-panties of yours are just not going to cut it..."

I shake my head. "No...I just can't. This is, it's too...I don't know, intimate! The dresses and shoes and stuff, that's one thing, but..." My throat is as dry as wool.

Alika sighs deeply and crosses her arms. I'm expecting another 'don't-be-silly' lecture, but now she sounds almost disappointed. "Schrodi, I'm a little hurt, here. I thought you trusted me. I mean, haven't we had a great day?" I nod, and I'm about to say something else, but she cuts me off. "And--I know I've put you through some embarassing moments, but hasn't it all worked out so far?" She reaches out and brushes my headfur off of my shoulder, placing her hand there. "I've really had a lot of fun with you today...I started out so mad at you, only to find that you and I are...well, sort of kindred spirits. And I've never gotten to do this sort of thing with anybody. It's the kind of thing that I always wished I had a little sister for. My mom would never take me shopping like this, she wouldn't understand." She shook her head and sighed. "I guess it's kind of silly, wanting to share a day like this with somebody who understands why I...am the way I am."

Alika looks down, seeming a little less glamorous and stunning, seeming to me for the first time like somebody in the wrong clothes and wrong shoes, standing in front of a store they probably aren't welcome in. "Alika, I...I'm sorry," I say. "I really have had a wonderful day with you. Like you said, it was a once in a lifetime chance...and I'm glad I took it." I reach up and squeeze her hand. "I know I couldn't have had a better tour guide, or personal shopper...or big sister, with me today."

She looks up at me, those ashen locks falling over her cheek again, and I get the same rush I did when I first saw her this morning. A corner of her mouth perks up. "Thank you, sweetie. Listen...if you want to end the day here, if this is too much for you...I understand. But believe me when I say that taking this last step is SO worth it. I just want to help you experience it...but only if you trust me."

I give Alika my prettiest smile. "I totally trust you, big sis." I suck in a deep breath and let it out, letting go of my tension. "Let's do this thing!"

If entering the boutique on the first floor was enough to make my head spin, walking into Froederick's was like putting it in a blender and hitting "liquefy." So MANY silky, delicate, stunning, lacy-satiny-scanty-sexy-pretty-beautiful things! I couldn't help but stare at the orgiastic cornucopia of flesh-baringly sinful outfits draped lavisciously over mannequins, racks, hangers, rollaways, the very walls themselves pulsating with sex. I whimper a little bit and take some more deep breaths.

"You allright over there, sweetheart?" Alika purrs. "You're squeezing my hand pretty tight."

"Oh. Uh! Sorry." I look at her and release my grip, feeling a pang of jealousy--her body, even if part of it isn't real, is made for these kinds of things. Alika would fill out most of these without any difficulty at all. I get a sudden mental picture of me naked, save for a few tawdry scraps of flimsy material drooping over my shoulders and practically falling off my body in a completely unappealing fashion. "I guess I'm not sure where to start," I say, shifting a little. "What do you recommend, sis?"

Alika gives a little nod to my deference. "I recommend that we start you off with a few simple pieces--everyday panties, bras, slips--then a few pieces for sleeping, wearing around the house, that sort of thing. Then we go for at least a few really scandalous bits--stuff that'll make the guys go wild." She reaches over and picks up a sheer, lacy pink nightgown and holds it up to my chest. "Like this, for example. I bet your husky boy would like to see you in this."

I snicker. "Are we going to go back and give him a show?"

"Don't tempt me, girly. You may just get more than you bargained for..."

With that, we begin to shop in earnest. My girly mojo comes flooding back as soon as I realize that I'm in lingerie heaven--every silky, scanty, sinful thing I've ever dreamed of wearing is mine for the taking! I'm in a daze as Alika walks me up and down the aisles, picking out cute panties, stockings, garter belts, bras, teddies, nighties, catsuits (I think briefly to myself, 'why would I need one of those? I'm already a cat!' but I let it go), you name it.

I'm mildly surprised when Alika tells me that it's time to go back into a dressing room to try on a few things, just to make sure the sizes are right. It snaps me out of my lingerie-induced reverie, and I very nearly begin to protest, but I quickly realize how futile it would be for me to resist. This is, after all, the last stop of our trip, I tell myself. All I have to do is try on a few things, and after I'm done, I'll never have to worry about being caught in a dressing room with girl clothes on ever again. Resigned to fate, I take a few items from our gigantic pile of pre-purchased lingerie and step into the changing cubicle as Alika wanders off to do some shopping for herself.

The dress comes off first, and with it off, I take a moment to take a look at myself in the mirror. I'm not happy with the way my bra looks, so off it comes. Just in panties, I take a step back and look again, cupping my small pecs with my hands. There's some baby-fat left there, and I almost have a breast-shape, if you look at it the right way...maybe I have enough for a realistic bust without the padding? I should ask Alika later. The thought of having actual cleavage sends a giddy chill through me!

I slide off my panties, slightly nervous now that I'm naked, and wrestle with the garter belt for a moment--it doesn't seem to want to cooperate, but eventually I get it on correctly. I slide the nylon knee-highs up my legs, the feeling of silky stockings wrapping tight around me giving me delicious shivers. With the garters fastened, I reach for a pair of thong panties--but before I slide them on, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and have to turn to face it and stare for a moment longer. Almost subconsciously, I tilt my hips, let my legs stretch out, one toe en pointe like a dancer's. The garters give my hips definition, and the stockings highlight the natural curves of the muscles in my legs. Absentmindedly, I run a hand through the fur on my chest, down to my stomach and coming to rest on my hip as I gaze at the girlish figure staring back at me...and I must admit, there's no denying it. I am starting to feel as hot as I look, and right now? I just happen to look DAMNED hot.

I brush out my headfur and pout for the mirror, licking my lips...I'm getting horny thinking about the sexy girl in the mirror, and realizing that she's me! There's no way I can fight the erection I'm getting, but I find I just can't bother with worrying about it at the moment. In seconds, it's as hard as a rock, and I watch it grow in the mirror as I start to breathe a little faster. I can't believe how much I'm turning myself on! I suppose, though, that I might as well cover up this decidedly unfeminine reaction. The white lace thong slides up my legs and caresses my rigid dick, I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. I work out the placement of my tail with the tiny slit in the back and pull them up all the way...yikes. The sensation of having something between my cheeks like that is going to take some getting used to. I turn to the side and look at my reflection again--the look of the thin, lacy thong disappearing into the soft cleft of my rump is mesmerizing. How did I never notice how cute my ass was until just now? I reach back and give it a squeeze...and for a moment in my mind, it's not my hand doing the squeezing, but the cute husky boy's. What would he do to me if he were in here with me right now? Oooh, such naughty thoughts...he looked like he had nice, big, strong hands. Maybe he'd even reach around to my front, or maybe his fingers would slide lower, and...mmmmmmmm...

"Ding-dong! Avon calling!"

For the ho-jillionth time today, I nearly lose all nine lives out of sheer terror as Alika whips open the privacy curtain and steps in the changing room with me. I hop back and shriek, covering my chest with one arm and my crotch with my other hand, one leg hitching up (in hindsight, these were perfecly girly reactions, and I do feel a certain amount of pride that they came practically instinctual). She snickers and closes the curtain, putting some pieces of lingerie on the hanger. "What's your problem? Can't sisters try on clothes together?"

"You could have warned me you were going to do that!" I hiss, trying to stop shaking.

"I said I was going to do a little shopping for me. And I hate having to bring things back if they don't fit. Such a time-waster. It's so much easier to take one trip," she said, pulling her sweater up over her head. I turn around out of politeness, feeling my cheeks redden. We're in a changing room together...she's a girl but I'm not but I'm dressing like a girl but she's not really...is this okay? Is this totally wrong? What do I do here? The implications are making me go all cross-eyed. My perplexedness distracts me until Alika says "Hey, hold on to these for me, would you?" I turn back around, eyes closed, and hold out my hands. She plops two large-ish, pear-shaped blobs of something pleasantly squishy and pleasingly jiggly into my palms and busies herself with removing her skirt. I open my eyes and stare at the blobs. They wobble alluringly, looking very familiar.

"Congratulations," says Alika. "You just got to second base, and you didn't even have to buy me dinner."

Yesterday, something like this would have made me freak out. Right now, though, I just have to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. I place Alika's breastforms gently on the bench. "You know, I think I'm getting the hang of thi--" I turn to face Alika, and I stop cold. She stands before me just in a pair of white french-cut panties, her ashen hair spilling out onto her shoulders. Her bra is off, and I can see her bare torso without its artificial curves--her chest is flat, but she is trim, taut and lean. Her charcoal stripes fade across her chest and stomach, leaving fine, delicate ghost-gray fur that looks incredibly soft. She gives me a little smile and takes me by the hand, pulling me over to her. "C'mon. Let's see how you look in the mirror."

Alika stands behind me as we look at my reflection. She's at least a head taller than I am, and she rests her hands on my shoulders. "You look great, hon," she says softly. "The stockings are a good choice on you. I really should have had you put on pantyhose when we got you the dress, but I wanted to you feel the air on your bare legs first. I find that going bare underneath makes everything feel more real." She wraps her arms around me, across my chest. "But you certainly have great legs. And you're so slim."

"I can't fill out any of the cups of these things, though. I don't have much..." I nudge under my pectorals. "And I don't have, uh...those squishy thingies, like you have."

Alika nods. "True. But not every pretty girl has to have a full chest. Many females have less than what you have up top, and they are just as beautiful as any other woman because they know how to accentuate their better features and flaunt their femininity." She reaches over and takes something off a hanger. "Let's try something that will help you do just that. Arms up."

I stretch my arms out above my head, and Alika slips something over them that settles flowingly down upon my body like it was sewn from sheets of mist. I let out a surprised little "oh!" as I feel its cool, shiny smoothness--it's a white, practically see-through nightie with a modest bust, the hem just long enough to reach the edge of my panties. The sub-spaghetti straps are nearly invisible as they sink into my fur, and I can feel my nipples (as well as other things) stiffen as they're stimulated by material that rubs against them in a way they've never been touched before. In the mirror, it looks as good as it feels--slinky and barely-there, concealing and exposing in equal amounts.

If the makeup and the dress and the shoes were partial measures at making me feel girly, this is a breakthrough, a revealation, a revolution! Everything I have ever wanted out of dressing in feminine clothing has come to me in a single instant. I am transformed, I am transcendent, I feel so amazing all over that I think I'm going to cry...and at this moment, Alika beams at me and places her muzzle down on the top of my head, giving me a soft kiss. "My pretty girl," she purrs.

The room goes swimmy and I can feel my legs get wobbly, but I refuse to give into histrionics. What I have to say is way too important. I turn to face Alika. "If I'm just pretty," I say softly, "you are more than pretty...you're beautiful."

Alika frowns a little and looks away. "Can you really mean that? Even though you can see I'm--"

I put a finger to her lips. "Alika...you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen." I slowly smooth my hands down her chest and stomach and look deep into her eyes. "Absolutely the most beautiful."

She lets out a little gasp. "Schrodi, I..." Her cheeks are flushed.

And I'm not sure exactly how, but suddenly, we're kissing.

Our muzzles are meshed together, tounges slipping against each other, exploring each others' mouths. I can taste her lipstick, feel her arms around me, fingers pressing into the small of my back--is that her heart pounding, or is it mine, or is it both of ours, beating at the same tempo? I'm dizzy, I'm delirious, I'm making little moans and sighs that I never thought I'd hear coming from my mouth, and I'm loving every second of it. As first kisses go--and this is mine--this has to be in the top ten of the all-time best. I'd at least put it at number seven.

And then, I feel a little something more. Well, to be honest...a *big* something more.

We stop to catch our breath. Alika is flushed, panting and starry-eyed, and I'm sure I look the exact same way. I look down, and while I can't say I didn't see what I was expecting, I certainly wasn't expecting to see so much! Alika's cock is poking up out of the waistband of her panties, a big, pink shaft that's at least three inches longer than mine and twice as big around. A pearly drop of pre-cum is gathered at the tip, and it's visibly throbbing. My jaw drops to my chest.

"Oh. Uhm. Sorry," Alika says, sounding embarassed. She moves her hand to cover up, but I stop her.

"Don't be. It's as beautiful as the rest of you." I reach over and wrap my hand around her rigid shaft--it pulses against my fingers, and I'm struck by how amazing that feels. I give it a few gentle strokes, absolutely fascinated by the look and feel and scent of the only other cock I've ever touched. Alika lets out a shuddering breath and a tiny whimper, and I smile up at her. "Is this okay?"

"Mm. More than okay. But..." She reaches down and pulls the waistband of my panties down, freeing my own maleness; which is so hard I feel like it's going to explode at any second. "Oooh," she purrs throatily, sliding her fingers up and down my quivering erection. "I love it. I love it very much. It's as pretty as you are...my pretty girl," she says, closing her fingers around it and giving it the same treatment I'm giving her.

I moan openly, chewing on my lower lip as we stroke each other, new sensations screaming through my body. "Ohhh, Alika," I whisper, looking into her dazzling eyes. She pulls my body closer and pushes my hand away, enclosing both of our cocks in one hand, stroking us both at the same time. I can feel her shaft pulsating against mine as she leans down to kiss me passionately. I reach around and clutch her soft rump, squeezing her luxuriously soft cheeks as I moan wantonly into her mouth, our shared excitement building. Warm pre, oozing from my cock as well as hers, slips into the space between us, and soon her hand is gone as well--she reaches back and grabs my waist, moving me against her as our cocks slide together in unison, piston-pumping against each other in a rhythm that seems innate.

Time and space loses all meaning. I have no idea how loud I'm moaning and gasping and sighing, and I don't care. All that exists in this world is the exquisite pleasure I am sharing with Alika, this tiger-goddess, this bewitching sexual enigma who has bestowed her magic upon my unworthy head. I can feel my excitement building like a dynamo attached to my spine, and I know--I don't know how I know, but I KNOW--that her pleasure is beginning to climax as well.

We cum together. The feeling of orgasming while being orgasmed upon is absolutely exquisite; the rush of every good sensation you've ever had coursing through your body at a million miles a second while the hot, musky explosion of your lover's own lust splashes onto your fur, the heat of it practically searing into your skin...I've jerked myself off to some mind-blowing orgasms in my time, but this one is in 3-D high-def IMAX with surround-sound and force-feedback. Myowrling and mewling, Alika and I rub ourselves into a frenzy, lips meshed together as blasts of hot feline seed impact all over each others' chests and bellies...our climaxes subside and we grow soft together, but we can't stop kissing and holding each other, quivering and breathing hard, lost in one another.

Reality doesn't intrude upon our blissful afterglow until I come up for breath and notice a very wide pair of eyeballs peeping over the curtain. I look back at Alika, then up at the eyeballs. "Uhhh," I say.

The eyeballs disappear. I hear a woman's voice calling for a manager. Suddenly, I don't feel quite so sexy anymore. Alika seems to have noticed the noise, and frowns. "Huh. I don't remember requesting an audience."

I sigh deeply and rest my forehead on her shoulder. "That's it, then. Fun time is over. Here come the police and the news cameras and my father beating the snot out of me as soon as I get home, then kicking me out of the family forever. I should have known this day was too good to be true."

"You really think all that bad stuff is going to happen?"

"Yeah. No. Maybe, who knows? We're in serious trouble, no matter what!" I can hear footsteps approaching the changing room with dreadful rapidity.

Alika smiles, and I can't help being amazed one last time at how beautiful she looks. "Don't panic, girly. I have a feeling that everything's going to be just fine."

The curtain slides open. Standing in the doorway is the wolfess from earlier today, the one we met in the ladies' room.

If it were possible to simultaneously sneeze my heart out through my nose and crap out all my bones and organs out of pure fear, right now would be the perfect time. But since that probably isn't possible, I just stand there, frozen, my hands still glued to Alika's ass, my chest and unpaid-for lingerie dripping with spooge that's getting colder by the second.

The wolfess glowers at us with something slightly less than total and incomprehensible, slavering, jaw-snapping, claws-rending, kitty-killing predator rage. As a matter of fact, she looks positively bemused. "Now, dear heart," she says to Alika (not roaring or growling or foaming, but speaking with a prim upper-class accent), "this kind of thing is simply not tolerated at Froederick's. We are not a sex club or some sort of seedy dive where you can freely explore your freaky little kinks without repercussion. We are a tasteful establishment with clear rules about the kinds of behavior that can take place in our stores and in our dressing rooms, and this sort of rampant disregard for those rules simply isn't done. Do I make myself clear?"

"Oh, crystal clear," says Alika, chipper and polite as if she were discussing the price of mangoes with her family grocer. "As clear as an unmuddied lake. We're terribly sorry about all this," she shrugs her shoulders. "It was a, well, passion of the moment kind of thing. You understand, don't you, Mrs. Yodelbean?"

Wait. What?

The wolfess--Mrs. Yodelbean?!?!?--rolls her eyes. "I'm sure I don't. Whatever the case, if you weren't this store's best customer, you and your cough-ahem! little friend would be hauled out by security guards by now. As it is, it behooves me to grant you a modicum of leeway, under a proviso that this will never happen again--are we in agreement?"

"One hundred percent, ma'am, absolutely. I do think we've completely gotten it out of our system. Don't you agree, sweetheart?" Alika turns to me, and I nod my head like a bobblehead doll stuck to the dashboard of a low-rider.

"Very well." Mrs. Yodelbean hands us a rubber tub filled with cleaning supplies and paper towels. "You are to leave no spots or stains of any kind. I don't want my changing rooms to look like a motel bedspread under a CSI black-light. And I trust you will be purchasing the garments you are currently trying on?"

"Oh! Yes, please," says Alika brightly. "And everything on the rack outside, these pieces right here," she says, handing the wolfess the lingerie she hadn't tried on yet. "And can we get three more sets of these," indicating the things I had on, "one in pink, one in white, and one in black? Does that sound right, sweetie?" I squeak out the quietest 'yes' in history. "Yes, that'll do nicely, thanks."

"I believe that can be arranged," said Mrs. Yodelbean, casting one more raised-eyebrow gaze at both of us, and closing the curtain.