Horny

I tapped the letters into the weird black app on my phone.

"women REALLY appreciate my opinion on lingerie"

I snorted at my own stupid joke. Probably some dumb calendar app or something. I hit save.

For a second, nothing happened. Then the automatic doors of the lingerie shop slid open with a soft whoosh. My mom, Lisa, stepped out first, a serious, focused look on her face. She wasn’t holding any bags. My little sister, Chloe, was right behind her. They both walked straight toward my bench. Their movements were different, fluid and deliberate, hips swaying with a confidence I’d never seen from either of them.

“There you are, sweetie,” my mom said, her voice low and breathy. “Why aren’t you inside? We need your opinion.”

“Yeah, bro, we can’t decide,” Chloe added, biting her full lower lip. She reached down and took my hand. Her skin was soft, her grip insistent. “Come on. This is important.”

I was too stunned to resist. I let her pull me off the bench and lead me back into the store, my mom following close behind. The usual inoffensive pop music was playing, but the store's energy felt different. Normally, I’d been banned from entering cause apparently I look creepy.

But not today.

Today, the glances were different. A stunning brunette in a silk robe by the sleepwear aisle caught my eye and smiled, a slow, appreciative curve of her lips. A pair of fit women by the panty wall paused their conversation, their eyes tracking me with open curiosity instead of judgment. A blonde employee folding camisoles gave me a small, knowing nod. It was more unnerving than the usual hostility.

We didn’t go to the clothing racks. Chloe led me straight to the fitting room area in the back. A heavy velvet curtain was drawn aside. Inside was a plush, carpeted room with a large three-way mirror and a small, satin-covered loveseat.

“Sit,” my mom instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. I sank into the soft cushions, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

My mom and Chloe stood side-by-side in front of me. My mom, Lisa, had the toned, maintained figure of a woman who never missed her yoga class, but I’d never seen it, not like this. Chloe, my annoying little sister, was all long limbs and youthful curves I’d spent years deliberately not noticing. They were both dressed in their normal mall clothes—my mom in a cream blouse and jeans, Chloe in a band t-shirt and shorts.

Then, as if on a silent command, they began to undress. My mom unbuttoned her blouse slowly, letting it slide off her shoulders to reveal a deep crimson lace chemise beneath. The thin straps slid down her smooth, tanned shoulders. The lace cups were sheer, and I could clearly see the dark circles of her areolas and the hard points of her nipples pressing against the delicate fabric. The hem ended high on her thighs, showcasing her sculpted legs. She put a hand on her hip, thrusting her chest forward.

Chloe peeled off her t-shirt and shorts to reveal a baby pink babydoll set. The ruffled, semi-transparent top did little to conceal her perky, young breasts. Her small nipples were visible through the sheer material. The matching panties were a tiny thong, a narrow strip of silk that disappeared between the firm cheeks of her ass. She spun around slowly, giving me a full, deliberate view.

“So,” my mom purred, running a hand over her own hip. “Do you think this one is good on me, baby? You think Dad is gonna like it?”

“Or the pink on me?” Chloe asked, turning back to face me and leaning forward, her cleavage deepening impossibly. “Be honest.”

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. My brain had short-circuited. This was impossible.

“Cat got your tongue?” Mom murmured. She reached up, cupping her own breasts through the crimson lace and lifting them slightly, as if offering them for a better inspection. They were full and heavy, the lace straining. “Maybe you need a closer look to decide? Or maybe…” she tilted her head, “…this set just isn’t doing it for you. Maybe it’s not special enough.”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, mimicking the gesture, her smaller, firmer breasts peeking over the top of the ruffled babydoll. “Maybe we need to try something else. Something… wow.”

They pushed me, gently but firmly, out of the fitting room so they could change again. I stumbled back into the main store area, my mind reeling, and immediately collided with a soft, perfumed figure.

“Oh! I’m so sorry to interrupt,” a woman’s voice said, though she didn’t sound sorry at all. I looked up. She was older, with expertly styled blonde hair like my mom’s, and her eyes widened with recognition. A younger girl stood beside her, maybe a college freshman, with long, glossy brown hair and a shy, hopeful smile. They were both holding pieces of lingerie.

“This is my daughter, Tiffany,” the woman said, gesturing. Her hand came to rest on my shoulder, her grip friendly but firm. “It’s her third date with her new boyfriend tonight. She wants to make sure she picks the right set.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink.

Tiffany, blushing a deep rose, nervously let her lightweight sundress pool at her feet. She stood there in simple white cotton bra and panties, her body slim and graceful with gentle curves. In one hand she clutched a black lace teddy, in the other a pale blue, sheer baby-doll.

“We heard you have a good eye,” Tiffany’s mom said, her perfume enveloping me. “My daughter needs to seal the deal tonight. Which outfit will make him lose his mind? The teddy for a classic, wrapped-present look? Or the baby-doll for something more playful and accessible?”

My mouth was dry. “The… emmm,” I croaked. “Why don’t we try the baby-doll?”

Tiffany’s smile bloomed from shy to radiant. “Okay!” she chirped, and with a giddy, nervous energy, she ducked into a nearby fitting room, pulling the curtain shut. Her mom kept her hand on my shoulder, anchoring me in place. “Won’t be a moment,” she murmured. “She’s a quick changer.”

True to her word, the curtain swished open less than a minute later. Tiffany stepped out, transformed. The pale blue baby-doll was a cloud of sheer chiffon and delicate lace. The loose, floaty top fell just to the middle of her ribs, leaving a tantalizing strip of her toned stomach bare before meeting the high-waisted, matching panties. The fabric was nearly transparent, softening the lines of her body rather than constricting it, making her look ethereal and touchably soft. Her small, pert breasts were subtly outlined, her nipples just a shadow behind the gauzy material. She did a timid twirl, the hem flaring around her thighs.

“It’s… it’s perfect,” I managed to say, and it was the truth. It wasn’t overtly sexy in a aggressive way; it was innocent, romantic, and utterly beguiling. She looked like a wish made visible.

Tiffany clasped her hands together, her eyes shining. “You think so? Thank you, thank you!” She rushed forward and gave me a quick, impulsive hug before darting back to change. Her mother beamed, squeezing my shoulder one last time. “A true savior. Have a wonderful day!” And just like that, they were gone, leaving me standing alone in the softly lit store, the scent of her perfume and the impossible reality of the last ten minutes hanging in the air. What the hell was happening?

“Honey? We’re ready for the final verdict.”

My mom’s voice, smooth as velvet, pulled me from my daze. I turned to see them both standing in the open doorway of the plush fitting room, having changed into new ensembles.

My mom was in a set of ivory silk and black French lace. It was a sophisticated one-shoulder teddy that clung to every curve, the delicate black lace tracing the swell of her hips and forming a provocative cut-out across her taut stomach. The single strap left her other shoulder and the smooth, elegant line of her neck bare, drawing the eye down to the deep plunge of the neckline that showcased the full, magnificent cleavage the garment created.

Chloe had chosen something more daring: a harness-inspired bodysuit in a deep, blood-red satin. Thin, crisscrossing straps of the same material formed a intricate web over her torso, framing her breasts and cinching her waist before dissolving into a high-cut, Brazilian-style bottom. The back was mostly open, a complex tapestry of straps against her skin that emphasized the lean muscles of her back and the perfect curve of her behind. It was bold, modern, and left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

They were both devastating. A masterclass in different kinds of allure. My mind, still shorting out, grasped for the logic the app seemed to demand.

“The ivory and black,” I heard myself say, my voice distant.

Their faces lit up with identical smiles of triumphant satisfaction. “We knew you’d know,” my mom sighed happily, as if a great burden had been lifted. “You always do.”