You follow your mom out to her car, and she drives you to the thrift store. You admit you're a bit disappointed, as you thought you'd be going to the mall to get your new outfits. Noticing your expression, your mom explains.
"Look Tony, if we were only getting one outfit for you, we wouldn't normally come her, but we need to get you kitted out from top to toe with multiple changes to last you weeks, and I'm afraid our budget won't stretch to getting everything new. Besides, it would look pretty odd if you turn up as the new girl at school wearing only brand new clothes. Anyway the thrift store is pretty much a one stop shop, so we should be able to get everything you need here."
You weren't really arguing at all, but her explanation makes perfect sense, and as you wonder around the store it seems she's right. You haven't really much of an idea what you're shopping for, but mom keeps putting things into your trolley, and after over half an hour stops outside the changing rooms.
"OK, time for you to do something now." She passes a pile of clothes to you. "Go try these on."
"What? All of them? There's loads here!"
"Live with it. I'm not sure what will suit you, or even fit you, so this is the best way to find out."
You realize there's not really any option, and beside your mom is right - you have no idea what size fit you are for girls clothes, so it probably better to try things on first. The changing rooms are not really rooms at all, but cubicles with a flimsy curtain that doesn't quite fit the width of the opening, and leaves a gap of about 18 inches at the bottom. Well, guess nobody is likely to be looking anyway, and if anyone sees your feet, then no biggie. So you proceed to change from your tank top and denim skirt, and try on a range of different outfits, each time having a look at yourself in the mirror, and then pulling back the curtain to let your mom see. After the first couple, your mom starts being more selective on the sizes she passes to you, as some garments were clearly too big, too small, or just what you're describe as a weird fit. To start with you look at each garment for what it is, but then start to look at your reflection as if you were a girl, rather than yourself. The odd thing is that if you forget its yourself you're looking at, some of the outfits actually look quite good on you, and one dress you try looks really really good, so you find yourself putting things into the 'buy' pile even before your mom does.
After nearly half hour of trying outfits on, you'd had enough, and you both head to the tills, with a trolley still fairly well laden. As you pass everything to the cashier you realize there's a load of stuff you hadn't even tried on - packs of panties, bras, socks, make up, hair grips, bracelets and bangles, and a couple of slim shoulder bags.
You decide not to ask your mom about it. All of it sort of makes sense, although does seem a bit overkill for a few weeks - OK, perhaps maybe up to three months - before the adhesive used for your artificial breasts and pussy softens up so they can be removed.
So you leave the thrift store and head back to the car. The first thing you do is to take off the sandals that you've been wearing and instead put on a pair you've just bought that are virtually flat, so relieving you of 4 inches of heel that you've really been struggling with. You decide you don't really like heels - at least not on you. On a girl, that's different, you like girls in heels... OK, so that means you're going to be the sort a girl you don't like because you don't like to wear heels? Oh, this is silly. You realize the scale of this is starting to hit home, and you're not sure how you'll cope...
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