You're pleased to discover that the mall has ATMs. You don't know if any of the stores take credit cards, but seeing as your cards have a masculine name on them, and your photo ID no longer matches your physical description, you don't want to risk it. You're surprised that the ATM doesn't add a surcharge to your withdrawal, as it's not one belonging to your bank. You shrug and think "It's magic. For all I know it could be creating the dollar bills out of thin air."
The more you wander through the mall, the more you notice unusual things about the people that are walking around. You could have sworn one of the men that passed you had a bison's horns, and now you're trying not to stare at a woman in body paint that looks like leopard spots. As the two of you come closer, you realize the body paint is actually fur. She glances down at you with distinctive, yellow feline eyes. You force a sheepish smile and she continues walking past you. You steal a glance back and see a tail coming out of a hole in her pants. "What costume did she put on?" you ask yourself. With all of these strange shops and people, you begin to think that your change into a girl is rather unspectacular.
You come to the end of this branch of the mall. Before you is a cavernous entryway into a large department store. This looks like the best place to get some makeup and jewelry.
As you browse the jewelry section, you once again regard yourself from the perspective of a college-age male. It's difficult not to blush when you remember your changes. The more you think about it, the more it feels like you're supposed to be a teenage girl. Thinking about your breasts, your hair and your body no longer turns you on. You remember what the costume store clerk said about your mind being subtly altered to help you adjust, and briefly feel uneasy. You shake off the feeling, telling yourself that everything will probably be fine...as long as you eventually change yourself back. As much as you're enjoying being one, the prospect of living your entire life as a girl does not sit well with you.
An occasional change into the opposite gender is all that really interests you, and for that you know it would be wise to stock up on some female accessories. You pick out a cute pair of studs with clear plastic jewels resembling diamonds. You can't afford the real things, of course, but these look pretty enough. You also notice a pretty necklace with a small blue marble on a gold chain. This is a bit more pricey, but you pony up the cash anyway. You've got to look good, you tell yourself. Those DVDs you've been meaning to buy can wait. This is much more entertaining.
You then swing by the makeup department and find a shade of lipstick similar to the one the hairdresser used. It's a dull pink color, almost the color of lips but a tad brighter and glossier. You get some light blue eye shadow, blush, and a standard kit for touch-ups.
The bill is racking up quickly. You're starting to miss being a guy for the first time since leaving the costume shop. Being a college bachelor meant never having to worry about how straight your hair was or whether you had shaved that day.
Shaving. You wonder if you'll have to worry about that when the time comes as well. Maybe you wouldn't grow any body hair at all. You recall that your pubic hair was absent after your transformation. Or maybe it would grow, but reset itself each time you changed back.
You decide to not bother with shaving supplies. You'll cross that bridge if you ever come to it. You spend a little bit of time in the women's clothing section, but quickly determine you can't afford a whole new wardrobe.
There are some very weird-looking things in this store as well. You come across a section that is marketed to "Anthros, Male and Female." This part of the store has shirts with four, six, and even eight sleeves, pants with holes in the seats, and all sorts of garments with functions you can't determine. You remember the leopard-spotted woman and think about what it would be like to have fur and a tail of your own. "Maybe after I get bored with being a girl," you think, giggling at the notion of growing a cat's tail.
Finally, you come to the lingerie. It feels strange to be standing there among all that underwear. When you were in stores with your mom as a kid, you'd try to hide so nobody else could see you standing next to her as she picked out a new set of bras or panties. Now you're shopping for bras and panties of your own.
It dawns on you that you have no idea what your sizes are. Thinking quickly, you grab a pair of slacks from a nearby rack and head to the dressing rooms. You take off your uniform and find the tags for your panties and bra. With the sizes memorized, you head back out and return the pants to where you got them. You suddenly realize that you just stripped in front of a mirror, objectively sized yourself up, and didn't think twice about how weird it was for you to do so. You must be really adjusting to this form.
You pick out some nice-looking underwear in the proper sizes. This particular pair of panties has delicate embroidering on them, with a bit of lace around the edges. The bra is pure white with similar stitching and lacing. You find black ones in the same style, and you decide to get three sets; two white, one black. You also find some long white socks that match yours.
That should take care of the necessities, so you won't have to wash the same things over and over again each day you want to become a girl. You think of purchasing a teddy or some fancy little nightgown, but it's probably best to get that later. You can always make do with sleeping in one of your regular shirts, or possibly in the buff.
That thought makes you blush as you take your things to the cash register. The woman there compliments your hair. "Did you get that from Doris? She has such a way with hairstyles."
You assume that Doris is the blue-haired lady from the salon, and answer "Yeah."
Now walking through the mall with two bags in hand, you come to a food court and realize how hungry you are. A lot of the places don't seem to be serving anything you'd consider cuisine, but the animalistic and alien-looking people seem to be enjoying it. There are, of course, fast food places that serve food you're used to. There's even a sit-down restaurant and bar.
You notice a large clock hanging from the domed glass ceiling of the food court. It's getting late and you have class tomorrow, not to mention a paper due on Monday. You had planned to work on some of it tonight and get a head start so that the costume party wouldn't cause you to miss the deadline.
Your wallet is getting a little thin, and you have a lot of food back at your place. It looks like your time in this mall is coming to an end.