Chapter 13 - Acquiring a Wardrobe

Fashion accessories may be one of the hardest subjects for a novice crossdresser to grasp. After all, most males have little choice in such matters, Even those of a more unrestricted outlook on life basically have three choices: ties, rings and, if so inclined, earrings. As a student, Pete only wore a tie under protest on Sunday mornings when his Grandmother was going to be present at church. His class ring was the only adornment on his fingers, and it was big and clunky as such things are wont to be. Earrings were still out of the picture, although he was pretty sure that one of the first things Polly would do on the way to her new job was to have her ears pierced, and the heck with what happens in the fall when Polly had to go into storage.

Yet, as a member of that subset of humanity under thirty, there was one ubiquitous fashion accessory that was not out of place on either males or females: the backpack. For some reason just about anybody under thirty seemed compelled to carry half of their life's possessions on their back, putting even the Aldabra giant tortoise (Aldabrachelys gigantea) to shame in hauling it's home along on its back.

While a backpack on a woman in a cocktail gown or a man in a Brooks Brother's suit might be a bit much, it seems backpacks were acceptable for just about any occasion in these the waning days of Babylon.

Dudes in skin-suits zipping along on bicycles on the downtown streets of Portland, kindergartners on their way to school with Ariel the Mermaid on their backs, young women strolling in the park, hikers on the Appalachian Trail, mothers with young babies that don't want their hands encumbered by a conventional diaper bag, students crossing campus with their books and notes safely stowed behind them. Nobody looks twice at anyone wearing a backpack unless they are wearing a uniform and standing next to a metal detector.

Wednesday morning Pete arose at his usual time of six AM, having packed his backpack with the essentials needed for the day ahead. A leopard print blouse, skirt, pantyhose, black flats, bra, inserts, makeup kit and the necklace that Sheila had given Polly that went so beautifully with the outfit. That blue dress somehow didn't make the final cut. It took a little effort to maintain the usual breakfast conversation and he took the kidding about spending yet another day with his girlfriend with good grace. With one last check to be sure his TriMet app was on his phone, Pete walked the three blocks to the train station and waited for the train to arrive.

Naturally it was full, and as a courteous male he dutifully hung on to the strap and swayed as the train make it's appointed stops. Twenty minutes later he exited and walked the four blocks to Sheila's place and rang the bell. After a satisfying bit of tonsil hockey the couple made their way to Sheila's room and Pete transformed happily into Polly, gratefully accepting Sheila's assistance in snapping Polly's bra.

"Think you can do your own makeup today, lover?"

"I'm going to try. Like you said, if we're going to do this all summer I need to be able to do it myself."

"Have at it."

Sitting down at Sheila's vanity, Polly carefully applied some mascara and a light coat of concealer. While Pete had a very light beard, a close examination showed a little shadow on his cheeks. A bit of blush - darn! Too much. Wipe it off and try again, this time it was just right. A touch of eye shadow and Polly was almost ready.

"Looks very good, lover. Now we need to do something more feminine with your hair."

"Like what? Polly asked.

"How about pigtails with ribbons. No guy would be wearing that kind of hairstyle no matter how long he wore it."

"You'll have to do it. I can braid boondoggle if I can see it, but I don't think I can do it blind on my own head."

"Sit still while I get creative."

"Looks very good, lover. Very Dorothy and no sign of the scarecrow. Let's get shopping."

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Not quite yet. You almost forgot your ring."

Theatrically getting down on one knee, Sheila slid the cheap engagement ring on Polly's left ring finger.

"Please do me the honor of being my one and only until the summer is over."

"Wow! A time-limited proposal."

"I'm not making promises or predictions about the future, but for the summer you're all mine."

"Then I happily accept. You may kiss the pseudo-bride."

And out the door they went, leaving the backpack in Sheila's room, where Pete's clothes made their temporary home. Maybe Polly could have gotten away with wearing a backpack, but since the object of the day's activity was to bring back much more than they left with, it seemed silly to tote Pete's clothes on their mission.

Being a warm day, Polly was so enamored of the feeling of walking in a skirt and hose that she almost forgot to be scared of being caught out. Why would a woman ever want to wear pants when they could enjoy the freedom of a skirt?

Being technologically up-to-date, Polly took her phone from her purse - well, really Sheila's purse - and tapped it at the transit reader, then got on board the train. No problems with identity, the computer didn't care what Pete was wearing or what name she used; the phone had all the information needed.

This time, an older gentleman rose from his seat and offered it to what he took to be a young woman. Feeling rather guilty about making an old man stand while she sat, Polly sat and Sheila took the seat adjoining hers.

"There are some perks to being a woman, aren't there, Polly?" Sheila whispered.

"I… I suppose so."

"Don't let it bug you, tell that macho creep in your brain to go to sleep. You're Polly, so just enjoy it."

There didn't seem to be much to say to that, so Polly just watched the scenery go by. Eventually they reached their stop, waited some more, then boarded a bus, tapping their phones like the old pros they were. A few minutes later they saw the sign for the Goodwill, so they left the bus and walked back a block or so.

"What am I looking for, oh Mentor mine?"

"You see the kind of things I wear, become one with fashion, grasshopper. And remember most women do not wear skirts all the time, so you need some nice trousers and maybe a pantsuit if they have one."

"You take all the fun out of it."

"Remember - the idea is to blend in. You'll need a sweater for the cool nights. A warm nightie and a sexy nightie that I can take off your delectable body. A light jacket if we can find one. If there's any money left some scarves or jewelry, although the jewelry here tends to be crap."

The search commenced and turned up one blouse and a skirt that met both Polly's liking and Sheila's approval.

"Kind of disappointing. Not much here."

"We're only starting. You didn't expect to find it all at once?"

"Why do the people who donate clothes have such lousy taste?"

"A law of the universe. Would you want to keep most of this stuff in your closet?"

"I see what you mean."

"Onward to the next thrift shop, my girl."

Sheila turned out to be better and more accurate than any GPS in locating thrift shops with low-priced clothing. After a couple of hours, Polly thought nothing of removing her blouse and modeling whatever was in the pile they had garnered. In fact, the fashion show aspect was downright fun.

By three o'clock they had about run out of money and energy, and trudged their way back to the bus, but being rush hour it was full and no old-fashioned gentleman was present to offer a seat to a weary lady. Polly reached up for the strap and was suddenly reminded of just how she was dressed. Her bra tightened, the straps dug into her shoulders as they supported her breasts and she felt like she was sticking out from here to eternity. Every bump in the road caused her breast forms to bounce and wiggle, making her sure that every male eye was following their every motion. In her discomfort she completely forgot she was standing next to her well endowed cousin - which one of them would a sexist male stare at on the bus?

A glance around showed that her fellow passengers were each locked in their own little world of non-thought as they endured the ride to their homes, but she still felt awfully exposed with her arms above her head and her breasts bouncing.

Eventually they transferred to the train, where they were on schedule to arrive back at Sheila's place before anyone else was home so Polly could once again become Pete. Naturally the schedule got tossed about like her fellow passengers when some idiot who tried to beat the train ahead of him over the crossing and failed. The safety systems and warning plans worked perfectly, except that our ladies' train came to a halt on a bridge high above one of the many sloughs that traverse the city.

They could hear the sirens in the distance and see the flashing red-and-blue lights, but nobody had a clue what was going on. There being no pedestrian access on the bridge, nobody could leave the train. Businessmen grumbled, the cars on the road running beside the tracks ground to a halt. Polly watched as half the drivers pulled out their cell phones and began to amuse themselves, an ingrained action for any Portland driver in a traffic jam. A couple of buskers on the train struck up a tune to pass the time and Polly realized that they were not going to reach Sheila's place in time for her to change.

"What are we going to do?" she asked plaintively.

"We detour over to Rosemary's house and beg shelter."

"Oh great, now she'll know about me."

"Did you think we could work with her all summer without her figuring it out? You're wearing her breasts, fer cryin' out loud."

"That is an image I did not need in my head."

"She's cool. You have a tea party with Rosemary while I go snag your clothes and bring them over, then we go back to my place and beg Mom or Dad for a ride to your place. Want to stay for dinner?"

"I seem to have lost my appetite."

"It'll help you keep your girlish figure."

"And all these bags full of girl's clothes?"

"We let Rosemary watch over them and take them with us when we go to the hotel."

"You make it all seem so simple."

"Creativity under pressure, that's me."

"So much for the reformed wild-woman."

"Don't complain, I still only intend to get wild with you, sweetie."

There didn't seem to be much of an answer to that.