Panties

The boutique felt warmer than the café, its lighting soft and flattering, the air faintly perfumed with something floral. Jerry stayed close behind Reina, hoping no one would look too closely at him. His ponytail swayed gently, and the leggings made every uncertain step feel exaggerated. He kept tugging at the hem of his shirt even though it sat perfectly flat. He at least felt at ease with the compressing garment around his stomach it wasnt what he would call masculine but he could feel its support helping him and if Reina thought he looked better a bit skinnier who was he to argue.

Reina paused at a table displaying pale nude seamless hipster panties. She lifted a pair with easy confidence, examining the fabric between her fingers.

“These are what you will use for the gym,” she said lightly.

Jerry froze. His chest tightened. “Reina, Those are panties , I am a guy. I cannot wear that.”

Reina did not seem to catch the words the way he meant them. She was focused on the garment, stretching the material slightly, checking the seams all while her phone buzzed in her purse. Ignoring the phone wanting to be in the here and now Reina placed a pair of underwear in Jerri’s hand. “You cannot wear boxers with leggings,” she corrected in a calm tone. “That much we both know. They bunched, they pulled, and they made you miserable this morning.”

Jerry blinked. She had misunderstood him. She had not reacted to the part he expected her to question and odd as this was he did ask her for help.

Reina continued, still studying the fabric. “These will not bunch. They will not hurt you. They will let your leggings sit properly so your hips can move the way they are supposed to.”

Jerry swallowed, flustered. “That is not… I mean… that is not what I meant.”

She finally looked up, eyes warm and steady. “Jerri, you deserve comfort. You deserve training clothes that work with your body, not against it. You asked me to guide you, and this is the solution that fixes the problem you complained about.”

The logic was behind what she was saying was all there, not that he was ignoring the glaring problem she didn't seem to see. It was exactly what he had said earlier.

Something soft flickered at the edge of his thoughts.

You trust your personal trainer. They want to help you, be the real you.

The idea drifted through him like it had always been his own.

Jerry took a breath. “I mean… the boxers are uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.”

Reina nodded gently, as if that settled the matter. “Exactly. So these are the correct choice.”

He stared down at the panties now in his hand again, mortified but unable to form a better argument. “It is just embarrassing,” he managed.

Reina stepped a little closer, her voice warm. “Trying anything new feels embarrassing at first. That is normal. It does not mean the new thing is wrong. It means you are growing. You already proved today that you can handle stepping outside your comfort zone.”

Jerry felt heat flush up his neck.

“You only have to try them,” she said softly. “One pair. Give it a little time and If you hate them, we stop. But I believe you will feel the difference immediately.”

Jerry hesitated. He was a man. The woman he liked was handing him panties. Everything in him screamed that this was absurd.

But she looked at him with so much calm certainty, so much belief in him, that his resistance wavered.

And he wanted her approval more than he wanted to argue.

He swallowed. “Alright. I will try one pair.”

Reina’s smile brightened with clear pride. “Good. That was a very brave choice, Jerri.”

Reina lowered the first pair gently into the basket, then paused only long enough to give him a reassuring nod before reaching right back to the display. Her fingers skimmed over another stack of seamless hipsters, this time selecting a pale blush pair.

Jerry frowned. “Wait… what are you doing? I said I would try one pair.”

Reina placed the second pair neatly beside the first. “One is the beginning. Not the solution.”

Jerry tensed. “Reina, I meant one. Singular. I did not sign up for… multiples.”

She glanced at him with a soft, almost amused breath. “Jerri, unless the plan is to wear dirty panties to every session, you will need more than one.”

Jerry’s face went crimson. “No! I mean, obviously not, but I was not planning on… actually wearing them that often.”

“You train multiple days a week,” she reminded him calmly, already reaching for a third pair in soft beige. “You need clean underlayers for each day. That is basic hygiene.”

Jerry felt his legs wobble slightly. “But I said I would try one. I did not say I was replacing anything.”

Reina checked the seams, approved the stretch, and added the beige pair into the basket. “Trying means giving yourself a real chance. One pair does not give you the option to practice consistently.”

Jerry opened his mouth to argue again… and nothing came out.

She looked directly at him now, her tone warm but firm. “You wanted comfort. You wanted confidence. You wanted my help. This is me helping. Five pairs will keep you comfortable, supported, and clean.”

Jerry swallowed hard, pride flaring again. “It still feels… embarrassing.”

“That is exactly why you need to practice,” Reina replied gently. “Embarrassment fades. Comfort replaces it.”

Jerry’s breath stuttered, something warm flickered inside his mind.

You trust your personal trainer. They want to help you, be the real you.

The tension in his shoulders eased before he could stop it.

Reina gave a tiny, pleased smile. “There. Five hipster pairs for your training days. A proper rotation. You are doing wonderfully, Jerri.”

Jerry stared into the basket, stunned and flustered and not entirely sure how he ended up here.

Reina lowered the first pair gently into the basket, then paused only long enough to give Jerri a reassuring nod before reaching right back to the display. Her fingers skimmed over another stack of seamless hipsters, this time selecting a pale blush pair.

Jerri frowned. “Wait… what are you doing? I said I would try one pair.”

Reina placed the second pair neatly beside the first. “One is the beginning. Not the solution.”

Jerri tensed. “Reina, I meant one. Singular. I did not sign up for multiples.”

She glanced at Jerri with a soft, almost amused breath. “Unless the plan is to wear dirty panties under your leggings every session, you will need more than one.”

Jerri’s face flushed hot. “No. Obviously not. But I was not planning on actually wearing these that often.”

“You train multiple days a week,” she reminded calmly, already reaching for a third pair in soft beige. “And leggings require the right underlayers. Seamless hipsters move with you. They stop the bunching and pulling you complained about. This is comfort, not fashion.”

Jerry pressed his lips together, searching for something solid to stand on. “But five pairs is… excessive. I do not need that many.”

Reina lifted her brows, calm and unmoved. “You need enough to stay comfortable. You do not want to rush laundry or reuse underwear that is not fresh. That is how irritation starts.”

Jerry’s stomach tightened. Irritation was the last thing he wanted to deal with in the gym. “Still… five feels like too much.”

Reina rested a hand lightly on the basket handle, guiding it closer to his hip. “You asked me for help. This is that help. You deserve comfort every day you train.”

Jerry opened his mouth to protest, but his breath wavered. Something warm brushed the edge of his thoughts.

You trust your personal trainer.

The fight in his shoulders softened.

Reina watched the tension fade and nodded as if confirming progress. Then she turned toward the next table. The fabrics changed. The colors softened. Lace replaced the plain edges of the hipsters.

Jerry’s pulse jumped. “Reina… we already did enough. Five is plenty.”

“For your training,” she said. “Now we need to take care of how you feel at home.”

Jerry blinked. “I have boxers at home.”

Reina gave him a sympathetic little smile. “Boxers are familiar, not comfortable. They do not help you relax. Jerri, you should not be wearing boxers.”

Jerry felt a rush of embarrassment he could not explain. “I relax fine.”

Reina reached for a pair of lace boyshorts in a soft lavender. The scalloped edges were delicate. The lace was feminine in a way that made Jerry’s entire body stiffen.

“These are for unwinding,” she said. “Soft. Breathable. Designed to help you settle into the evening.”

Jerry felt his face heat. “Reina… those are way too… girly.”

She misunderstood immediately, in the same confident way she always did. “Plenty of shy girls struggle with feeling pretty or attractive. It is normal. But you deserve softness and confidence too.”

Jerry quickly shook his head. “That is not what I meant. I just… I do not see myself wearing those.”

Reina stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Because you do not think you are allowed to feel sexy.”

Jerry nearly jumped. “I am not trying to be sexy.”

“Sexy is confidence,” she said gently. “It is how you feel about yourself. It is not for anyone else. And you deserve to feel that. You deserve to feel good in your own skin.”

Jerry felt overwhelmed. Embarrassed. Cornered by logic he did not actually agree with but could not articulate around.

The warmth slid into his mind again.

It is okay to show your feminine side. You feel more confident being feminine.

His shoulders eased. His breathing slowed.

The panic softened into something confused but strangely bearable.

Reina watched the shift and smiled. “There. That is the beginning of confidence.”

She placed the lavender boyshorts in the basket.

Jerry’s eyes widened. “Reina, I said one pair for home. One.”

Reina lifted a pale pink pair trimmed with scalloped lace. “One does not give you options. You need variety.”

The pink pair went in.

Jerry stared helplessly. “Reina, please, that is too many.”

Reina was already lifting a mint green pair. “This one is for days you want to feel fresh.”

Mint joined the pile.

Next ivory. “For when you want calm.”

Then plum. “For when you want something bold.”

Five lace boyshorts. Five soft colors. All sitting neatly beside the seamless hipsters before Jerry could gather words to stop her.

He stared into the basket, horrified, flushed, and confused by the strange fluttering pride he felt seeing her so satisfied.

“Reina…” he whispered. “Five.”

“Yes,” she said gently. “Five helps you explore what makes you feel confident. Confidence needs options.”

Jerry looked down at the basket again.

Ten pairs total.

Ten undeniably feminine pieces.

And he still did not take a single one out, not even one.