Ronnie's shopping trip and transformation continue -- all this just from watching too much TV?

Boob Tube - Episode 2

by Lainie Lee
 

Boob Tube - Episode 2

Ronnie followed Delia meekly toward the junior lingerie department. Why did a place called Denim Depot even have lingerie? Ronnie glanced down at his chest--and why did he have tits? He knew it must have been from a summer of watching the Boob Tube.

"Do you know your bra size, hon?" Delia asked.

Ronnie shook his head. Delia looked him over carefully. "Just as a guess, I'm going to say 30 A. So what you want is a 30 A/B."

"Huh?"

"That's a 30 A with padding to make it look like a 30 B."

Delia quickly picked out two bras, one sort of peachy pink with lace and one kind of lavender without much lace. She handed the bras to Ronnie who took them the way a sleepwalker might accidentally board a crosstown bus.

Delia lowered her voice to a whisper, "You can try those on if you put them on over your t-shit. See which fits better."

Ronnie glanced toward the Boys' Dressing Room and turned pinker than either bra.

"Oh, silly," said Delia. "We're on this side of the store now, you can go ahead and use the Girls' Dressing Room."

Like a sleepwalker, Ronnie moved toward the indicated door. The Girls' Dressing Room got a lot more use and contained a lot more mess, he noted. He took the large back booth and found it strewn with discarded blouses and wadded up skirts and jumpers. After tidying up, by reflex, he stood and stared at himself in the mirror.

I really do need a bra, he thought, seeing the pointy little nips making tents in his t-shirt. People might think I'm just some slutty little mall bunny. Besides, they sometimes hurt when they jiggled and chafed against his shirt.

Forgetting the instructions to try the bras on over his clothes, Ronnie stripped off the yellow t-shirt and examined his chest. His little boobies perked up a bit in the chillier air and a very peculiar feeling flowed from them to every fiber of Ronnie's being.

I wonder if there's something my parents never told me, he thought. Am I turning into a girl or am I just some sort of freak? This couldn't only be from watching too much television.

He slipped his arms through the loops of the first bra and struggled to fasten it behind his back. The soft padding in the cups felt nice against his skin

I'm not a girl, he told himself. But when he looked in the mirror, he certainly saw a young girl, her mouth slightly open as she contemplated the evidence of her growing femininity.

He blinked several times but he couldn't seem to make the image turn back into himself. He stared for a while longer. Maybe I'll be more popular in my new school, if I'm a girl. I certainly couldn't be less. I bet girls don't mistreat each other the way boys do.

"All right in there?" Delia's voice asked.

"Yeah," said Ronnie. "The first one I tried fit, I'm going to wear it."

"Okay, hon. Just pull the tag off it so we can charge you."

Ronnie did so, and put his shirt back on. Noting that the other bra was a smaller size, he handed it back to Delia when he left the booth.

"Want to buy another that size?" she asked him, meaning the one he now wore under his shirt.

"I guess?" said Ronnie. If I'm going to wear a bra, I guess I'll need two, he thought.

Delia collected the tags for the things he was wearing then directed him back toward the bras while she waited on someone else.

Still a bit nervous about shopping in the girls' department, Ronnie looked at the bras without touching any for a bit, but a pretty peach and yellow lace one caught his eye. That' so cute, he thought. But no one would ever see it. He looked at the size, 30A. Not a padded bra. Well, I might be able to wear it under my clothes and really no one would know. And it's so pretty.

He picked it up then realized he was standing in the middle of the girls' lingerie department holding a bra. He looked around for Delia but she still had another customer. Reluctant to put his pretty treasure down, he dithered a bit until a bin of lacy panties caught his eye. Two of the panties in particular, one matched the peachy pink of the bra and the other matched the soft pale yellow. They were lacy with a little ruffled panel. He suddenly felt he had to have them.

What size are they, he wondered. Then, what size panties do I wear? He blushed. He didn't wear panties--but he wanted to wear these like he'd never wanted anything quite the same way before. They certainly looked like they would fit. He picked them up and added them to the bra, t-shirts and the old boy clothes he'd worn into the store that he was carrying under his other arm.

I'm buying girls' clothes, he said to himself in wonder. I'm buying girls' clothes cause I'm turning into a girl. That's sick, I need to see a doctor. What kind of doctor he needed to see worried him a bit.

Delia had finished with her other customer and made her smiling way back toward him. "You ready to check out or looking for something else?"

"Uh?"

"We've got some really cute shoes?" she offered. "Or if you wanted something a little more dressy?"

"A dress?" squeaked Ronnie.

Delia took his current planned purchases, including the frilly underthings, and laid them on a back counter with the tags from what he was wearing. "Boy's jeans are okay for casual stuff," she remarked. Then she led him to the girls jeans. "But what really makes a girl feel special is something that's really made for her."

Ronnie giggled, perhaps not quite hysterically.

"How about this?" Delia asked, holding up a pale stone-washed denim mini-skirt.

"It's got hearts on the butt," said Ronnie. And it's a skirt! he added to himself.

"Cute, huh," said Delia.

Ronnie nodded.

A few more choices offered, another trip to the dressing room to try things on; and after looking at himself in the mirror wearing a ruffled pink blouse with the heart-adorned mini, Ronnie had to lie down on the little bench in the dressing booth to keep from fainting. I look so cute! he moaned.

Somewhat recovered, he finally escaped Delia's generosity and the wealth of the Denim Depot after purchasing the pair of boys jeans, the two unisex tees, the bras and panties, the mini, three silky flirty tops, a pair of gold embroidered capris and a long skirt that looked like denim but felt on his legs the way cold sweet strawberry milk felt on his tongue.

Quite a shopper, he paid less than $200 for all of it but Delia had to go on her break and so never got him to the shoes or jewelry department.

Giddy, Ronnie wandered the mall for a bit with his packages, including the one bag containing his old boy clothes. His brain buzzed with the effort of trying not too think too much. He smiled a lot and everyone smiled back at him. Everyone seems so happy today, he noticed.

The food court beckoned. He stood in line for a slice of pizza and a Coke, as much to have an excuse to sit at one of the tables as because he'd gotten hungry. He ate the pizza carefully so as not to get any grease on his new jeans or the yellow tee he'd worn out of the store. At last, he picked a few of the ground beef nuggets off to eat and left a lot of the crust on the paper plate before throwing the mess away and scrubbing his fingers with napkins.

The man at the pizza counter had smiled at him. Mothers pushing baby carriages smiled at him, so did the babies. Three boys a little older than him strolled past, twice, smiling at him both times. Everyone seems to like me better as a girl," he decided.

Two girls who would probably be in his grade next year walked by wearing shorts, tight short tees that left a strip of their middles bare and sandals. He didn't know if they actually went to the same school he did, he didn't recognize them but he'd not had time to really learn all his classmates' names and faces. I wonder where they got those cute shorts and sandals, Ronnie thought.

He became uncomfortably aware that he was still wearing boy's underpants, shoes and socks. He sipped the last of his Coke, rattled the ice in the cup and realized he would have to make a trip to the restroom. He shook his head, the girls' restroom of course.

Gathering his packages and disposing of the tired Coke into a trashcan, he made his way through the crowd to the door of the girls' room. Heart pounding, he pushed inside to discover a line of girls, women, babies and a few tiny boys being led by their mothers, snaking through a chamber containing couches and mirrors. He vaguely remembered this sort of thing from when he'd been small enough to need to go with his mom to the restroom.

"Sucks, don't it," commented the girl in front of him.

He nodded, afraid to say anything. He smiled and she smiled back. Her girlfriends, also in line, smiled at him. They're probably high school girls, he thought. I'll be in high school in another month or so. He staggered at the thought.

"You okay?" asked the girl who'd made the earlier comment.

"Yes," he said. "Thank you." He smiled.

She smiled back. He had no way of knowing what she was thinking but what she apparently saw was a girl a little younger than herself carrying several shopping bags and probably stressing about waiting in line to go to the restroom. If she'd seen a boy, she wouldn't be smiling at him because they were already in the girls' restroom, technically.

He kept smiling. "It's always like this, isn't it?" he said, not really asking.

Everyone in line nodded, agreeing, not answering.

"It's obvious men design public places 'cause they never put in enough women's rooms," said one older lady.

"And there's hardly anywhere to put your purse down, in the stalls or at the sink when you want to wash up," added another woman.

The girls giggled, including Ronnie. The grousing turned into a little good-natured, if slightly peevish, male-bashing but the line actually moved fairly quickly and Ronnie hurried into one of the stalls when it came his turn. Remembering where he was, he sat down to do his business.

He glared at his boy underpants braced across his knees, then shed his jeans, socks, and shoes briefly to dispose of the offending garment in a convenient miniature trashcan sitting almost behind the base of the toilet. He had a vague idea what that was actually for, but didn't want to think about it.

From one of his packages, he extracted the lacy pink underpants and slipped them on. He tucked his boy parts backward and admired his smooth girlish front, wondering if the new position for his anatomy might not get uncomfortable. Right at the moment, it felt wonderfully right.

Before putting the jeans back on, he reflected that he had seen very few girls, or even women, wearing long pants. It was the middle of summer after all. Most of the girls were wearing shorts or skirts with a few in capris or else whatever those baggier-type of long shorts were called.

He had a skirt and a pair of capris; would either of them look odd if worn with his boy sneakers? He'd seen other girls wearing sneaks with casual skirts and shorts but he didn't think he'd seen that combination of footwear with capris. Most of the girls wearing the pants cut-off below the knee had worn dressier footwear or sandals.

That meant he should wear the mini-skirt with his sneakers, until he could get some dressy shoes. It made sense, though his socks would look odd if he wore them with the skirt. The socks ended up going into the little trashcan, too and Ronnie left the stall wearing the peach-colored tee with the palms, his new mini-skirt with the hearts embroidered on butt and pockets, bare legs and his not-obviously-boy's sneakers. Of course, he had on his new padded bra, too.

He looked very cute and he stopped to be sure of that at the mirrors. Other girls were fixing their makeup or fussing with their hair. I need makeup and hair thingies, thought Ronnie. And a purse to carry stuff in, he mentally added.

He had lots more shopping to do, but his debit card still had plenty of money. Ronnie hurried his mini-skirted, heart-decorated little round butt toward a shoe store, first.

The shoe store clerk told Ronnie that he had cute feet. Ronnie giggled and bought three pairs of shoes, one pair of sandals, one pair of really sweet Mary Janes, and a pair of fuchsia-laced sneaks with glittery flower designs on the sides. He bought a purse, too and some cute socks with pink teddy bears, violet hearts, and rainbows on them.

In the big department store, a young woman offered to give him a free make-up lesson and Ronnie left there with his face carefully made up in the latest style--and $90 of cosmetics and scent in a small bag. Now when he sashayed through the mall, the boys didn't just smile at him once, they gave him second looks--and third ones too.

Jewlery, thought Ronnie, noticing the bangles and beads on the other mall bunnies. He stopped in front of an earring kiosk with a sign that said, "Free piercing with starter earrings and free extra pair." He felt of his ears. They were naked. Everything else he had done could be taken off or washed off, but getting his ears pierced would be some sort of high water mark of his femininity.

He went to one of the tall window embrasures and sat on the wooden bench to think about it. Outside, the Southern California sun shone in a way that was utterly unlike the less fervent, less hurried sun of the Missouri hills where he was born. It wasn't hot here, not like it could get in Branson on a sticky summer afternoon, but the SoCal heat had an urgency that insisted, be, do, have. Be happy. Do what you want to do. Have another cherry ice on the beach.

Ronnie sighed. He'd been in California for months and he hadn't been to the beach yet. Maybe he should buy a swimsuit. Would mom and dad let him wear a bikini, he wondered.

Okay, that thought brought his brain to a screeching halt with the caboose of his worry about his own sanity bouncing and spilling the conductor's coffee. I don't think I'm crazy, he thought. If I were really crazy, I'd be sure I wasn't, and I'm not. His head hurt.

Two boys walked slowly past, taking their time to look at the girl in the denim mini whose face was made up to look much older. Ronnie noticed their attention and felt pleased but puzzled about the enjoyment he took in their stares. Without looking at them, he crossed and recrossed his ankles. His legs were very pale for a California girl but he was pale everywhere and his gingery hair made his paleness look natural and right -- a very lovely, slightly exotic looking girl in his un-Californian way.

They think I'm a girl, thought Ronnie, watching the boys out of the corner of his eye. Heck, they know I'm a girl, he decided. Maybe I've always been a girl and I'm just weird that I look like a boy in the one place where it matters on a little kid. After all, Ronnie had been watching daytime talk shows all summer, he'd heard of weirder things.

Boys don't grow tits and round butts from watching TV, he told himself, at least, not girl-tits and girl-butts. He sat up straighter and checked to see if he had all of his shopping bags and his purse. The boys had finally moved on past without speaking to him, perhaps deciding that he was too old for them.

With everything gathered together, Ronnie headed back to the earring kiosk. The lady behind the counter there said, "The style these days is for young women to have two earrings in each ear, so if you want to pick out two sets of starters and two other pair from these trays, you can have all of it and the piercings for just the price of two pair of earrings."

"Okay," said Ronnie who knew that girls get double piercings but boys who get pierced ears get only one in each ear. He picked out a pair of pearl-topped studs and another pair of heart-shaped starters, then a pair of small hoops and a pair that looked like little green and amethyst flowers. The quick, thpt! of the air gun making tiny holes in his earlobes hardly hurt at all.

He also bought a charm bracelet with three starter charms--a unicorn, a heart locket that opened to show an amethyst jewel, and a strawberry. A chain with another heart locket completed his purchases and he left wearing his new jewelry with the extra two sets of earrings, ear cleaning fluid and instructions in yet another shopping bag.

A check of the big clock in the mall lobby showed that he still had almost two hours before his mom would come to pick him up. She had supposed he could spend any amount of extra time in the video arcade though in fact, he had never much liked video games. Ronnie had a better idea and made his way back to the beauty salon.

Steve the hair stylist waved at him. "Girl, you look fabulous," he gushed. "Much better than that tomboy look you had earlier."

"Thank you," said Ronnie, blushing, surprised that Steve recognized him with the change in clothes and makeup. "I want to get my nails done."

"Sugar," said Steve in a drawl as wide as a bayou, "we've got the best nail artist in the city here. Kim will do a wonderful job and she can paint little flowers on each nail, too, for just a little extra."

Ronnie nodded smiling.

Kim turned out to be a tiny Asian lady, not as big as Ronnie even. She spoke English with a bit of an accent, but then, from Ronnie's point of view, so did everyone in California.

"You nail," scolded Kim, "terrible shape, how you feet?'

"Let's do them too," Ronnie agreed. "Can you make my fingernails longer?"

"Sure," said Kim. "Cost more."

"I cook," said Ronnie proudly, "so it can't be something that would get in my way."

"Okay, we use acrylics, make just a bit longer," agreed Kim. "No problem."

Two hours later when Ronnie's mom cruised past the Mall entrance looking for her son, she didn't recognize him in his mini-skirt, hair-do and makeup.