Something Cute.

These chapters are a collection of four or so mini-moments, all posted together as a unit, hence their brevity.

A few minutes later, Beatrice steps out of the dressing room, bouncing happily. She twirls in place, giving you a full look at her chosen garment, making the garment flutter and spin.

"Beatrice look nice?"

Call the paramedics, you need to be resuscitated. Hand over your heart, clenched tight and heaving, you almost can't bear to look directly at this glowing, burning sun of sugary delight in front of you. Dear fucking LORD and she was cute in bad clothes! How are you supposed to survive this??

Unaware that she is absolutely killing you with that sweet, hopeful look in her eye, Beatrice wiggles eagerly in her dress. A lovely blue and green tartan pattern spreads across her figure, the pleated trim bending out around the hefty swell of her wide hips. Two large buckles hold on for dear life, pressed at the top of her breasts and keeping the overall straps flush to her shoulders. Under the tartan overalls is a thin but tasteful white top hugging tight to her form, sleeves down to the wrist and crinkling unevenly around her neck. Aware that her size makes the pleats ride a fair bit higher than they should, Beatrice has added some dark, fur-friendly leggings to the ensemble, further emphasizing her thick thighs that taper down into very dainty little shins and paws. A dog-style pair of mary janes complete the look, little silver buckles matching the ones on her dress.

Your face is hot and must be so pink, looking her over again and again. "Beatrice look very nice! Er, um, ahem... yes." Clearing your throat does nothing to regain composure, Beatrice swaying and treating you to a satisfied giggle. "It's positively adorable. Suits you to a T. Does it feel okay?"

"Is nice! Comfy. It goes swish-swish."

Yes. Yes it does, those pleats constantly bringing your eyes back to them. She's somewhere between an innocent schoolgirl and a lustful, lecherous fantasy, but she wears the look with an air of dignity that brings it together as a viable reality. How can you not get it for her?

"Alright, put that one in a 'Yes' pile and try on the next one."

"Yes!" Beatrice gleefully bounces back into the dressing room. Just before she leaves your sight, she inadvertently gives you a brief flash of her big, round ass stuffed into those tight leggings, the pleats springing a little too high. Fucking damn. You're never going to tire of those fleeting peeks. Knowing full well you could just bend her over and ogle to your heart's content, there's so much more excitement in those accidental delights.

...They are accidents, right?