Friday Shopping

“What do you mean you don´t have any clothes for us?!” I screamed, slapping the counter.

Annie and I were standing in a local clothing store wearing, well, the morning papers. This time I was covering my tits with a picture of... themselves. Annie covered hers with a stretched picture of her soft ass.

At least the pictures were a bit blurrier this time, as they were taken at night. I wish they made the papers a bit longer, though. My ass was hanging free and shaking since the AC in the store was on full blast for some reason.

Brrr, I was almost as cold as when the sprinklers gave me a bath!

Cordelia was manning the counter because, apparently, she owned this place, too. The regular clerk tried to shoo us when she saw us enter with neither shoes nor shirt, but since we refused to leave, she called her boss, AKA, the annoyed redhead.

“You heard me, we are out of stock for women´s clothing.”

“I can see a fucking line of shirts right next to you! And pants!”

The redhead shrugged, her lips twitching as if containing a smile. “Those are men’s clothes, I can’t sell them to you.”

Annie’s green eyes narrowed. “Let me guess, it’s against the local rules.”

“Bingo. A bylaw from the 18th century, if you can believe it. Our quaint little town does love its antiquated rules. I like them as well, it gives this place a special character, you know?”

I had enough of this town’s bull. I reached forward, grabbing Cordelia by the collar. “Listen here, I’m not leaving the store wearing a newspaper, so you better go around the back and find some women’s clothing, or I’m going to take them off your back, understand?”

Cordelia’s expression didn’t change. She rolled her eyes, an impish smile forming on her lips.

“I don’t have any women’s clothing for you, but I might be able to bend the rules by selling you something off-season. Leftover Halloween costumes that were deemed a bit too… risqué.”

—

A bell dinged as we exited the store. Cordelia was no longer pretending; I could hear giggles behind my back. Well, screw her, and screw this town!

The important thing is that I could no longer see my tits or my womanhood when I glanced down, although the errant wind did threaten to expose my buttocks and vagina when it was feeling like being a bitch.

A grass skirt was tied to my hips, its pointy blades digging into my thighs. What, did they use nettles to build this thing? It itched like hell! But it was a lot better than my top.

To complete the Hula Dancer look, I was wearing half-coconuts on my breasts. And I don’t mean a coconut-themed bra, but an actual, cut-in-half coconut. Every brisk movement sent my sensitive nipples chaffing on the coarse shell.

At least they were my size-ish… which was the excuse I used not to wear Annie’s ridiculous “costume”. I don’t think she bought my excuse that the coconut would fall off her comparatively flatter chest, but she didn’t seem to want to argue anymore.

“N-now what?” Annie said, her cheeks blushing crimson. A pair of bunny ears fell in front of her freckles. She raised a spandex-covered arm over her soft flesh, hugging her chest.

As an errant whistle rang in her ears, she squealed and bent down, her little bunny tail rising up. Annie’s limbs were covered, but her torso, well, apparently a “reverse bunny suit” doesn’t come with a leotard included, just three pasties to strategically place over your intimates.

“Now we go to the prison to see if a certain magician is behind bars,” I said, strutting forward.

“C-can I wait for you at the hotel?” Annie replied, eyes looking askew as she covered her buttocks from a passing car.

“You can, but the hotel is farther than the prison-museum, so it’s a longer walk. Also, if I find some clothes on her cell, I’m not sharing.”

“Aww… man…”

And so began our walk. I held my head high, walking with my nose up as if there was nothing strange about a hula dancer walking across rural England in April.

Thankfully, my little bunny directed a fair share of the attention away from me, but not all. I am, after all, still a bombshell. Many curious onlookers outright stopped walking to see if Annie really was wearing nothing but band-aids. Her cheeks became as hot as the sun.

Sucks to be her… and me. I had to walk almost robotically, focusing so my hips don’t sway enough for the grass to move and flash my lower lip to the street. And even when I kept totally still, that stupid wind sent my grass skirt flying at every intersection, a fact that the cars honking at my apple-shaped bottom never let me forget. You would think the breeze was purposely trying to embarrass me with how it waited until the worst times to blow!

I constantly groaned as my nipples scraped the coconuts as well, and the floor was still hard on my bare feet! I was almost jealous of Annie’s built-in boots, but not enough to wear that abomination.