Why not?

You look at that last picture again. You feel yourself growing warm. Why not? Just this one time. Just to get it out of my system. And if I end up looking ridiculous... well, at least I'll know what it feels like. Fuck it, let's do it!

You ascend the stairs, your heart drumming 'ramming speed' in your chest. You hesitate briefly at the door to your sister's bedroom, then open it and step inside.

It's a girl's girl room. One of the walls is painted hot pink. Against another stands a table stacked with enough make-up to supply a medium-sized town. The baby-blue sheets on her double bed are a mess, a constant source of despair for your parents.

Sabrina's pride and joy is her walk-in closet, though. You slide open the door and briefly pause. Every time you see her collection, you're amazed at just how much of it she has. Rack after rack of jeans, skirts, tops, dresses, but most of all, shoes. She has a pair for every occasion. Comfy sneakers, open-toed sandals, and high heels of every possible height, color, and material.

You begin rifling through the enormous collection. In the back of your mind is that last picture, the Hooters outfit. You wonder if you can find something like that.

She obviously doesn't have anything with the right logo on it, but a plain white top and a pair of colored shorts are easy enough to find. She has nothing in orange—that must be the only color she's missing—but red works just as well, right? You grab both, memorizing where you found the two items so you can put them back later.

You exit the closet and lay out the garments on Sabrina's bed. You hesitate, fiddling with your shirt, then give yourself a mental kick in the rear. Just do it, dude!

You pull your shirt over your head and drape it over a chair. Your pants are next, leaving you in your boxers. You consider taking them off, too, but... no, you back away from that thought. Cross-dressing is bad enough, you need to maintain at least some sense of propriety.

The top, first. Sounds easy, right? But it actually gives you a lot of trouble. If anything you're a little skinnier than Sabrina, but it's still just so damn tight! Is all girls' clothing like this? You're used to loose T-shirts that you can pull off with one hand. Compared to that, this is like a straitjacket.

Finally you've managed to worm your way into it and smooth out the last wrinkles. The adrenaline courses through your veins when you turn to face your sister's full-length mirror.

Only to realize that it says "Party Girl!" in garishly glittering letters on the front.