John squeezes into the costume.

John could feel a glow of heat in her crotch. Wait, John realised she had just thought of their body as hers rather than his? That realisation made John pause her self-exploration for a moment. Looking down at the lithe and undoubtedly sexy female form she now resided in, she really could not think of themself as a guy at the moment. This was far different to when he had invariably played with a female avatar in MMO or RPG games, even when using virtual reality headsets. She, definitely she, could feel this body; the touch of her fingers on her nipple, the slight breeze of air conditioning on soft, smooth skin and most notably right now the blush of heat and tingle as blood rushed to her newly formed pussy as her cursory inspection of hitherto unknown body parts had sparked curiosity and arousal.

"I am a goil," John whispered in Harley's accent and then louder with more certainty. "A chick, a broad...a sexy little slut."

The heat and irritating, but pleasurable, tingle between her thighs was distracting. John was sorely tempted to explore further, to stroke the unfamiliar labia, to spread the tight crease and touch and feel parts of her new female anatomy that she had very little first-hand knowledge of. A banging on the door of the cubicle interrupted any further exploration.

"Hey, get a move on," A muffled male voice complained from outside the booth. "There's a queue forming out here."

"Jeez, whatcha think I am in here, the fugging Flash," John shouted back. "Let a goil pull her panties on in peace ya fugwit."

"Harley Quinn? Sweet," The man outside replied, less impatient once he had heard John's voice and correctly guessed her identity. "But hurry it up in there."

John reluctantly postponed exploring her new body and started dressing. The fishnet stockings were tricky; she had a little difficulty pulling them up her slim legs until the technique of rolling them up occurred to her. The booty shorts were easier and more familiar, not too different to shorts or tighty whities, only much snugger fitting with no dick or balls to fit inside them. John had to tug a bit to get her rounded buttocks covered, and the tiny booty shorts were so snug that she could clearly see the cameltoed crease of her labia through the thin material. The stockings buttoned onto the hem of the shorts with straps and clips.

The iconic tee-shirt was also a struggle. There had been no bra in the box, no panties either for that matter, so John had to pull the tight shirt down over her bare breasts. The material was tight and clung to every curve of the freshly sprouted titties. Rigid nipples tented out the front of the shirt, hardened by both John's arousal and the cool waft of cold air from the air-con fan in the ceiling of the booth. Harley's, John's breasts were a fairly modest size, a small handful for a larger male hand compared to her now much smaller palms, but her nipples were long and prominent under the tight top.

The ankle-length baseball boots were no problem to slip into, a tiny size compared to John's own trainers and John was relieved that her footwear was flats, as she had no idea if she could have walked in heels.

The only items left in the box were a studded leather belt and a leather choker. The belt hung loosely over her wide hips, the shorts were so tight that they certainly did not need the belt to support them. The choker was black leather with the word Puddin in metal stud letters on the front and a matching ring below the name, John's hands and fingers trembled slightly as she buckled it around her throat. There was a tiny padlock that fitted on the buckle strap that would make it impossible to remove the collar without a key unless you cut through the collar. There was no key, either in the padlock or the box. John slipped the padlock in place through the buckle anyway, a delicious tremble of excitement quivered through her petite body as she heard the click of the little padlock locking her collar in place around her slender neck.