The Mall

The GPS in the SUV took Peter to the mall adjacent about a block away from the yoga studio. At first he’d been tempted to take the SUV and just drive home, but he knew full well that his mother would be waiting there and would stop at nothing to make sure he accomplished his task. In fact, he thought as he walked through the mall, nervously eyeing every person he passed, every one of them would make sure he accomplished his task.

Peter would have to be the woman of the house, Brittany, for the day.

Did that mean until the sun went down? Did it end at midnight? Was it a twenty-four hour thing?

There was no way to tell. Peter would have to just go with the flow as best as he could and try to get out as soon as it was allowed. If it took a whole day, it would take a whole day. There was no helping it. If he was lucky, whoever had set him up with this task will leave him alone after he was done, he could connect with his uncle, and be done with the accursed PDA.

Underwear. That was what Steve had originally said he had to buy, although on his way out of the house Peter had been told to buy whatever he wanted, and that he could keep it after the day was done. After spending the morning throwing away all of his clothes and wandering the neighbourhood completely naked, this seemed like good news to Peter. He didn’t know what the day would hold for him, but at least he wouldn’t be stuck in the nude when it was over.

“Keep it up!” A woman old enough to be his grandmother squeezed Peter’s elbow as they passed each other by, “I think your doing a marvellous job.”

Two other passers-by muttered agreement and smiled at him at her words. How do they know?! The whole thing was too much for Peter to understand. He should be getting dirty looks, or at least weird looks, seeing how he was walking through a mall in tight yoga pants, the outline of his cock truly on display for anyone who looked. Instead all he was receiving was encouragement. Enthusiasm, even.

The first store he walked into was a women’s underwear store, the kind he’d always felt a little dirty looking into when he was window shopping. Not that the clothes were pornographic, they just seemed too intimate for gawking.

Not that he didn’t gawk.

He just felt dirty when he did.

“Can I help you?” An attractive woman in her thirties asked, looking up from the counter where she was reading a magazine. It was a weekday, and it was still morning, and so the store was empty but for the two of them. She was understandably bored. Peter watched as her green eyes went from confused to understanding over the course of a few seconds, a process he was now getting used to seeing.

“I guess I’m looking for some underwear,” he said.

The woman, Cindy (according to her name tag), looked him up and down slowly, then smiled through painted lips. She tucked her long red hair behind her ear, looked around the store, then back at Peter.

“That’s fantastic,” she said happily after a moment, “You’re really trying, and you should be proud! We’ll get you your underwear, for sure, but I think there’s a few more things I could help you out with, too. But first thing’s first.”

She rounded the counter and crossed the store, indicating that Peter should follow.

“Tell me about this woman that you get to be,” she said, “that’ll really help us get this right.”

“Okay, I don’t know too much,” he began, not know what the relevance could be of anything he knew, “Her name’s Brittany. She’s married to a guy named Steve. They have a house and a Range Rover…”

“Oh! You’re married! That’s great,” Cindy, “Is he, like, into you?”

“He seemed nice,” Peter nervously answered.

Seemingly satisfied, Cindy moved on, “What about her. Tell me what you know.”

“I haven’t met her,” Peter said, starting to feel frustrated. He was wanting to get some underwear and get out, “I guess she’s shorter than me, skinny, and has, you know, big…” he held his hands out in front of his chest.

“Say no more,” Cindy laughed, “I know just the type. I can help you with your task, help you be her.”

“I’m just looking for some underwear,” he replied, a bit of a whine sneaking into his voice.

“Brittany,” Cindy said, “do you mind if I call you by your first name?” She didn’t wait for an answer, “You know as well as I do that when our husbands know we are going underwear shopping, they don’t want us to come home with Fruit of the Loom. They’re hoping for some spice.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable…”

“Brittany,” Cindy said the name emphatically, “you seem to be the kind of woman who knows what her man wants and doesn’t mind giving it to him. I’m going to see to it that you are able to do that.”

“Listen, Cindy, I really appreciate you wanting to help out but maybe I should go,” Peter started backing out of the store, “I was just looking for something simple, and I think you might have the wrong idea.”

Cindy’s hand reached out and held fast to Peter’s arm. Her eyes locked onto his with an eager desperation.

“Sweetie,” she said slowly, “I know what you need to do to accomplish your task. You’re not going to be able to do it without my help. If you’re not going to work with me, if you’re going to shirk your responsibility, then I’m going to have to…”