The woman leads you to a corner of the store where you find sandals, shoes and boots of every imaginable size and type. You spot some pairs of black low-cut school shoes. She helps you measure your new shoe size and picks out the appropriate pair. You tighten the buckle on each shoe and stand up, looking yourself over in a mirror. Running up the side of the mirror is a line of tape with inch markings on it. You step closer to it, standing as straight as you can. You hold a downturned palm against the tape about where the top of your head is and take a step back. You've gone from being 6'2" to 5'3".
"We have a wide variety of platform shoes, if you would prefer those," the woman says pleasantly.
You think about it for a minute, regarding your petite frame. You shake your head. "I'll keep these," you say. You suddenly realize that you've been idly twisting your right heel back and forth while holding your hands behind your back in a positively girlish manner. You reset your posture quickly.
The woman seems to have noticed. "One side-effect of our costumes is that they impart some minor behavioral traits, to help you adjust to the role."
That explains a lot. But as you think more about it, you realize something serious. "Does that mean... I'm going to be attracted to boys?"
"No, it's nothing like that. The behavioral shift is perfectly harmless. It's not hard to dismiss it completely with a little concentration.
That seemed to take care of that. There was almost no downside to this little escapade. You'd be able to experience life as a girl for a little while, even go to the party as one, and you'd be able to change back and forth any time you wanted.
There was just one last thing. Gazing at your reflection again, you notice your short messy hair. "Do you have wigs?"
The woman smiled. It looked like she was hoping you'd notice that one flaw in your appearance, but didn't want to point it out herself. "We don't, but there's a beauty salon down that way that should be able to help you." She pointed towards the left of the store entrance.
"Thanks," you say to her as you start walking in that direction.
"Forgetting something?" she calls after you.
You regain your senses and perform an about-face. "Thanks. Guess I was a little ahead of myself." You head back to the dressing room. You gather up your clothes, the hanger, and the open pouch containing the warning document, then head for the counter.
The woman is already waiting to ring you up. She scans a barcode on the document, then hands it back to you. "I suggest keeping this. Just in case," she says. On the opposite side of the warning, there is more written on the paper. You think they're instructions. Knowing it's better to be safe than sorry, you fold up the paper and prepare to tuck it into your pocket. The paper crumples against your hip, and then you remember your skirt doesn't have any pockets.
You pull your wallet out of one of your pants pockets so that you can pay for the uniform. The woman asks if you'd like to get a purse as well, or maybe a backpack, but you decide you've spent enough on this "costume" for one day. Besides, you think, purses are usually expensive. "I'll just keep my things in the bag," you say. This satisfies the woman. She gives you back some change and then carefully folds your boy clothes. She puts them in a bag along with the hanger your uniform came on. Taking the bag, you toss in your wallet, the paper, and the change.
You thank her in a cute feminine voice and walk out of the store. As you head toward the beauty salon, your breasts sway gently and your heels clop softly. You're surprised how quickly you're getting used to moving about in your new body.
You can't believe what's happened. You're starting to think this is one big fever dream, or maybe a virtual reality experience. You briefly picture yourself strapped into a table with a giant gadget on your head, surrounded by men in black who are watching images of the girl you on computer screens and taking notes on everything you do.
You shake yourself back to reality...or what now passes for it. It's hard to tell which improbable situation was the most believable: the ones you imagined or the one you're experiencing.
You try to focus on your task. There's one more thing you want in order to complete your transformation into a girl. You continue walking, keeping your eyes peeled for the salon.