You march right back into that store, fully intending to demand your clothing be changed back and the bra be removed. But walking in heels is such a strange sensation, and every time you move you feel the thong riding up your ass, and every breath you take the corset asserts its dominance over you, even the air making contact with your naked skin is a distraction. It was hard to keep thoughts in your head.
You tried to march in there and demand you be changed back, you thought out exactly what you were going to say, but it didn't work out that way. The way it worked out was much more like: step, feel high heel, feel thong in butt, step, feel other high heel, take breath, feel corset, feel thong in butt, step feel first high heel. Thoughts would not stay in your head.
When you got into the store the woman waited for you to speak, she didn't seem to think your clothing was odd, or if she did she made no reaction. You tried to stand perfectly still for a moment to stop the distracting sensations the clothing made when you moved. You were still incredibly aware of the heels on your feet, the thong up your butt, and the corset squeezing your waist, in fact all standing still seemed to do was let the latex bra and stockings reassert themselves. You'd almost forgotten about them on the walk in.
You were forced to give up on clearing your mind, so you started talking anyway, "I have a problem."
"I know, you didn't like the fit," the shop attendant said, "I gave you the product for free, there's not much else I can do."
You shook your head, your clothing had all been turned into latex lingerie and she thought you had a problem with the way it fit? "The fit isn't the problem."
Her eyes lit up, "It isn't? That's great! I thought you didn't like the fit." She ran up to you, her bouncing breasts provided yet another distraction preventing you from getting the whole march-back-in-and-demand-a-return-to-normal right.
"It fits fine," you said. Immediately she started examining the bra you were wearing. This made you uncomfortable, and as you shifted your weight you again were distracted by the feeling of left high heel, thong, right high heel.
"I thought it was perfect for you."
Your brain was being bombarded by strange signals, the heels, the thong, and the damn corset every time you breathed. You tried to power through them and get to the point. "The problem isn't the fit, it's-" damned corset was so distracting. Every time you spoke you felt it. Why didn't she just understand that males don't wear bras? "It's what it fits."
She didn't get it, "Huh?"
How could she not get this? You shifted your weight and the felt the thong again. Maybe you had an idea, but you didn't have time to think over because then something would distract you, so you just went with it, "A bra looks good on you because you have something to put in a bra, I don't." Was that a good thing to say? You didn't know. Being unsure made you shift your weight again, heel thong heel.
"Oh. Oh!" it sounded like she finally understood. "I know just what you need." She ran around a counter and pulled out a bottle of something. She then ran back and pulled back one of your bra cups, "One drop in there," then she pulled back your other cup, "and one drop in there." You were about to ask her why she could get the clothing off your skin and you couldn't, when you felt a tingling sensation under the bra. You looked down at your chest and watched as the bra started to inflate, then you realized that it wasn't just the bra that was inflating.
You watched awestruck as you grew a pair of breasts equal to her volleyball breasts. You needed to shift your weight to accommodate them. Your heels and thong reminded you they were there. You let out a long breath, and then the corset did the same. Your brain was starting to give up. Too many new sensations, too many breaches of the laws it thought governed reality. Too many changes to your self image.
It was then that part of you, buried deep within the left hemisphere of your brain, decided to state the obvious. Without thinking you said, "I'm going to need a whole new wardrobe."
"That sounds expensive," the shop attendant said, "Do you have a job?"
"I'm between jobs," you said, in a daze. Your brain wanted you to take a few hours off, just some time off so it could get back into the swing of things. But she was talking to you now so you spoke without thinking.
"Well I just convinced the owner of this store to hire another girl -um- worker, she said I could pick whoever I wanted. Do you want the job?"
Normally you'd think it was absurd. You didn't want to work in a lingerie store, but there was a thong up your butt, heels on your feet, a corset around your waist, and a bra on your shoulders, back, and -oh yeah- holding up your gigantic breasts. The mid-thigh stockings probably played a role too. All of the red latex lingerie was making most of your brain go on holiday. It was hard to think with each piece of clothing constantly making its presence felt. Whichever part of your brain had weathered the onslaught, whatever part of you was still making decisions, was not the part you usually used.
So it was, that you said, "Sure. I guess."