He goes on a summer shopping spree

Kent finished washing up. He took his time. He liked taking his time. When the water shut off, he shook her hair and felt the moisture dripping everywhere.

He exited the bathroom. Her body tingled, her mind was crystal clear. He wondered how long it would last, how long he could get away with it before his luck broke. If today was any sign, maybe forever.

It wasn’t a bad thought. Not bad at all.

Kent wrapped the towel around him and padded down the hall. Her closet was huge, but the longer Kent stood there, the worse things got.

He thumbed through the hangers, brow furrowing with each piece he pushed out of the way. Yawn and yawn again; these clothes shouldn’t be hers, won't ever be while Kent has a say. Conservative, bland, boring. Like work.

Kent sighed. There was no way he would spend the summer in these stiff button-ups. Throwing on something, anything really, he grabbed the car keys and headed out. The mall wouldn’t know what hit it. Nor would she. Her convertible roared to life, and Kent slammed on the accelerator.

He barreled down the road, wind ruffling through her hair, sun splashing on his face. It wasn’t work if it felt like freedom. It wasn’t punishment if he wanted it more than he could admit. The mall stood ahead, its doors wide open, crowds spilling out like the day had just begun.

Julie’s car tore into the parking lot, screeching to a stop in a parking spot. Kent jumped out, carelessly swinging Julie’s purse over his shoulder. Julie’s his swayed as he walked, crossing the lot; he owned the place like he owned her body. Without a second thought, he cut in front of a family with strollers and disbelief on their faces. One kid gawked; one parent covered his eyes.

The sliding glass doors swept open, granting Kent and his big plans entry. He wasn’t sure in which direction he was heading, but the look he had in mind was already on his mind.

Bold. Hot. Fucking outrageous.

He entered a boutique, eyes narrowed as he searched for something to fit his agenda. Kent headed straight for the trendy section, ignoring the hushed chatter that followed him. “Don’t stare, dear. She’s probably famous.”

Julie would be if he had his way.

He skipped the boring racks, tossed aside anything too familiar, too conservative. He hadn’t come all this way to put her back in a button up. His focus landed on the kind of things that would give Julie an aneurism—on items he couldn’t wait to see stretch over her tits.

A sales assistant floated over. “Do you need—” She paused and glared at the mountain of tight fabrics he’d piled up. Her mouth hung open when he flung a shiny gold tube top over his shoulder. She blinked, recovered, and asked, “Uh, help?”

“I’ll need a changing room.” He cocked his head and tossed her a grin. “A big one.”

She hesitated, then directed him to a spacious stall. More space than he needed, maybe, but if so he’d fill it. He shut the door, shrugged out of the boring outfit Julie had on, and turned her attention to the haul he’d made. Nothing escaped the pile. It was a heftier heap than the one she’d left Kent with in the attic—and far better.

He wrestled with the first few garments—picks based on size alone. They stretched across Julie’s chest, elastic groaning in protest. The tighter, the better, and his grin widened with each outfit.

Next came the colors: neon and hot pink shirts, shorts, and shoes. Yellow tanks, orange fishnets, and purples that would match the bruises Kent would discover when he unleashed his old self from the attic.

Then he attacked the shortest skirts he could find: micro-skirts barely larger than the sweat rags he’d ditched the day before, still damp from his changing-room ordeal. The fabrics clung to her curves; the hues popped against her bronzed skin.

Kent adored it—more than he had at the pool, more than in the shower. He loved how his male form would probably pop a boner on the spot if he saw her now. He loved how the clerks tried not to stare, tried not to gasp.

Eyes followed him as he exited the fitting room. Did he care? No. He only cared how hot Julie looked.

Every outfit proved more obscene, more shocking than the last. Every look fed his thrill, fueled his impulse to shake off Julie’s shackles, to make her into what he wanted her to be—his own image, his own ideal.

He basked in the attention Julie’s body got him, and he twirled in front of the fitting room mirror, only to stop in his tracks. Buried beneath the mountain of fabrics, an outfit screamed at him.

A green fishnet crop top. A black micro-skirt. Heels so high, Kent couldn’t ignore them.

He slipped on each tight, skimpy piece of fabric, watching as each one stretched over Julie’s curves, leaving nearly nothing to the imagination. It was so wrong it was perfect. He loved every inch.

Neon green mesh stretched over Julie’s tits, her perky pink nipples visible under the bright lights of the dressing room. The skirt stopped just under the curve of her ass, and the straps of the black thong she was wearing peeked out just so, sitting snugly on her hips.

It was perfect.

The attendant raised an eyebrow at Kent’s choices when he emerged from the dressing room, hands neatly folded in front of her. “That is… daring,” she said, unsure but intrigued.

Kent smiled the same smile he’d used in the in the mirror earlier. It wasn’t his reflection in the mirror, not really. But it sure as hell felt like his victory.

“This? Oh, sweetheart. This is nothing.”

This time, the sales assistant didn’t blink. She just stared.

She handed him his bags after the purchase went through on Julie’s credit card, and Kent left the store in that outfit. He strutted through the mall, feeling eyes burn holes through Julie’s body. He soaked it up, swaggering in her skin, enjoying the attention she used to but never would get again.

It was incredible how much power he felt. How much more he felt when he was dressed like this. How much more he felt when he was her. Eyes followed him like never before, voices whispering in his head and behind his back: “I can’t believe she’s wearing that.”

Julie would have died. Kent was very much alive.

He strode across the upper level, swinging hips and shopping bags in equal measure. This wasn’t Julie’s walk. This was his strut, in her hips. Kent considered detouring for a movie—Julie’s credit card, popcorn, a summer blockbuster. Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn’t.

Then he spotted the sign for his next conquest and giggled. He knew exactly what to do next.

Lingerie.

When he entered the lingerie boutique, the cute female attendant gulped and clutched her clipboard like a life raft. She shifted uncomfortably behind the register, her eyes not knowing where to land. Not on Kent, not on the half-dressed mannequins, and definitely not on the handcuffs hanging by the checkout. She fumbled a greeting, and he took advantage. He didn't need her help, but he wanted it.

“Something for your man?” she tried, glancing at his bags.

Kent spun, delighting in the breeze the micro-skirt left behind. “Who says I have one?”

The girl blushed. “It’s just... that’s a lot of stuff.”

Kent thumbed through the racks near the checkout counter, heels taunting every step the attendant took to avoid his gaze. He grinned, letting her sweat it out until she couldn't ignore him anymore. "I’ve never seen you—" She looked like she might regret the slip, and she did. "—in here. Before."

“It’s about time,” he said, stepping dangerously close. He held her gaze, watched as her cheeks continued to color, until she was as bright as a Valentine display.

“Do you need some help?” the girl asked, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Lots,” he replied, taking an innocent glance at his chest. “I’m not sure what size I am.”

“Oh!” She stepped out behind the counter with unsure footing. “We can figure that out.”

He followed her to the back, to the dressing room, watching her fumble with a measuring tape. “Can you please…” she said, trailing off as she asked him through gestures to lift up his excuse of a top.

Her hands trembled even more when he did, baring his tits to her so she could measure him, and Kent could barely keep a straight face.

He let her measure his bust, his waist, his hips, each number more impressive than the last. He tried on a lacy bra, then another, holding up the matching panties with glee.

“You have no idea how perfect these are,” he said, biting back laughter at how flustered she looked.

“Well, uh, good! I’m glad.”

“Let me get your number. You’re the only one who gets how to handle me.”

The pen slipped in her hand. He left with the slip of paper, a shopping bag full of sexy outfits, and enough of a head start that she wouldn’t see him ditch the pen and her good intentions in the trash outside.

Kent barely waited for the sex shop’s door to close. “Where are the nipple clamps?” he asked, going from zero to inappropriate before the sales clerk even looked up.

He looked around the shop, finding the mall’s usual shine missing, instead it was replaced by darker colours, and even darker lighting. He realized immediately that Julie would have walked past or sent her servant to pick up all he planned to buy. She would have been mortified, he was about to have the time of his life.

“Right side,” the man finally replied, and when his eyes met Julie’s, he almost blinked. Almost.

Kent flitted through aisles, grabbing more than he needed. The store wasn’t larger than a closet, yet it took Kent hours to complete his haul.

He spent most of that time laughing—more than he’d laughed at the pool, definitely more than in the attic. He ticked off his list: lube, check. Vibrators, check. Nipple clamps, check. Sizable dildo? Hell yeah. Maybe even an anal plug. God, this was perfect.

Kent imagined how furious Julie would have been if she saw this haul, how loud she’d scream when she discovered everything too late. He pictured her voice rising above even her shower-song.

The clerk reappeared with a pack of vibrating nipple clamps. “I’d recommend this model,” he said, looking a bit sheepish. Kent took them with a smirk. “Only if you think I can handle it,” he teased. “My boyfriend likes to get rough.”

The shop grew hotter and smaller; the clerk turned red and seemed to shrink. Kent hadn’t thought the walls could close in any more—but they did. The bags hanging off his arms crammed the space, stuffed with skimpy, trashy pieces Julie would surely toss out—pieces Kent couldn’t wait to drape around her.

When the clerk asked, voice quivering, “That all?” Kent met him with a grin.

“Nope,” he replied, setting some of the items on the counter. He held up the vibrator, and wiggled his eyebrows. “Batteries?”

The clerk had the register ringing with the speed of a man ready to see Kent leave. He bagged the purchases, and Kent wore a satisfied grin. He teased the clerk all the way out the door. The cat’s-got-cream strut, the sexy flick of the wrist.

Let everyone wonder; let everyone want him; let everyone try to keep up.

He headed back toward the food court, thinking it was high time for a snack.

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