Eric picks out a tomboyish outfit. (Originally by Gremp)

Clothes shopping might be nice, Eric had thought. Not the swaddling-himself in reams of pink-and-purple fabric part — intrusive thoughts aside, girl clothes were a damn _nightmare _to put on and swish around in — but the ‘fitting’ part.

Having a girl roam her hands around his body, cupping, measuring, and _fondling _in equal measure…

It made the Eric-part of his brain very happy.

Which is why, when he actually got in the fitting room, stammered the requisite excuse of why he didn’t know his bra size when he was 19 years old, and actually had his high-school kinda-crush wrap a band of measuring tape around parts of his body, he was bitterly disappointed to find that it wasn’t very exciting at all.

It was having his physical done by that crusty doctor, or having the overweight gym teacher trace a finger up his spine to check for scoliosis: vaguely awkward, and with both parties gently wishing that they didn’t have to do this.

Like it or not — and Eric definitely did _not _like it — this Erica-body did not like girls.

(Eric managed to drag his mind away from the thoughts of what if _Kyle~ _was measuring his bra size with a concerted effort and an angry grunt.)

And so Eric was stuck sitting on the bench on the fitting room, stripped to his sky-blue panties, one arm uncertainly crossed his chest. Caitlyn had gone out to fetch a bra; panties — he had blushed when she had said the pair was “way too small for his ‘donk” — a shirt; and a bottom that wasn’t a skirt, a point he was particularly proud to get past the fluffy pink thoughts that inundated his mind.

Given his distraction, he was lucky to only let out a high-pitched squeak when Caitlyn shrugged her way through the fitting room’s curtains, careful not to expose her petite customer to the store.

Caitlyn set down a pile of dark-coloured fabric with a gentle ‘oof’ and turned her attention to her dainty vendee. “Uh, ‘rica, you don’t have to, like, cover-up or anything. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Mhm,” murmured Eric, folding his dainty hands in his soft lap.

“Try this on,” Caitlyn commanded, shoving a dark bra into his lap.

Eric did so with almost-eerie (to him) routine efficiency, adjusting the band, lightly cradling his breasts into the soft cups, and putting his shoulders through the thin straps, all before involuntarily shimmying to test the fit. It did feel… better.

But the mind-stuff was still _hella _weird.

“Alright, nice!” Caitlyn grinned. “Just need to find what you like outta the pile, and, uh, I got panties in your size — you can try them on when I dip — and you can wear this out the store!”

“Cool,” Eric grumbled. “Fantastic.”

Caitlyn either didn’t pick up on the sarcasm or deliberately ignored it, holding up a long-sleeved top to her patron. It was navy blue, the neck-hole on top seemingly designed to hang off one shoulder, but most horrifyingly of all, the words ‘GAMER GRL’ stenciled on the front with bold letters filled with silver sequins that caught the light with every soft movement.

Eric stared aghast at the top, but apparently it could be confused as some sort of rapturous delight, as evidenced by Caitlyn’s smile. “Cool. Saw you staring at this in the window.”

Had he? No, his eyes had just fallen across it, probably. Anyways, there was no way he was going to —

Eric pulled the soft fabric over his head, hanging the neckline off one pale shoulder. He blinked. Shit, he did it again. Still, it felt, nice, for some ephemeral, hard-to-place reason.

Caitlyn clapped his hands in delight at the fit, before turning back to the pile. “Got some jorts and ripped stockings to complement the ‘cute goth’ look you have going on.” Eric rolled his eyes at this but remained otherwise silent. Pants — even _short _pants — were a definite upgrade from swishy, frilly skirts, bleugh.

“Your boyfriend — or uh, girlfriend, no judgment— or uh, your friends — ‘ll love this, I swear.”

“Boyfriend,” Eric automatically clarified, before wincing at the slip-up. Goddammit.

“Huh. I thought so.” Caitlyn rummaged around the pile a bit more before shooting an eyeshadowed gaze back at Eric. “You know, you look a bit familiar. You go to the local high school?”

Eric nodded before he could stop himself. Despite the blunder, though, this might be an opportunity! He could talk up ‘Eric’ as an unrelated third party — hopefully girls were amenable to the advice of their store’s customers. Sure, he might not like girls now, but after this debacle was over, he might have an in with Caitlyn!

“Yeah, I did —”

“Oh, sweet! Were you, like on the cheerleader squad or something? You look tiny enough to toss, and there’s some definite tone to your —”

“N-no, I wasn’t,” Eric cut in, blushing. “I was in the er, gaming club.” Not necesarily a lie, even though he was a foot taller back then. “There was a cool guy there, named Er—”

“Oh, that makes sense with the shirt and all,” nodded Caitlyn. “And yeah, I think I know who you’re talking about. Brown hair, toned arms, always wore jeans?”

Eric frowned. That wasn’t him. He didn’t even like — His eyes widened in realization. Caitlyn was talking about Kyle! Sure he was a member, but —!

“Always wondered what he was doing now,” murmured the shop attendant, handing a pair of denim shorts to the flabbergasted Eric. “Do you have his number or —”

“He’s t_aken,” responded Eric, frown on his face. Sure, Kyle might be pissed if he ever found out, but he was the one to crush on Caitlyn first and Kyle was his, anyways_.

Eric blinked away the sugar-sweet thoughts to Caitlyn’s adoring gaze. “Ohmigawd that’s so cyoooote! Highschool sweethearts!”

Eric blushed further. This was _not _how this was supposed to go. Still, he did eliminate one option, he suppo—

“Invite me to the wedding, okay? I’ll dip into the,” She leaned surreptitiously towards Eric “_lingere catalogue _for my gift.”

“Okay!” Eric chirped sunnily, before his scowl returned with a vengeance.

The rest of the fitting session went on similarly, with Eric stammering more lies, and Erica cheerfully adding colourful details.

As Eric clopped out of the store in a pair of tight blue jorts, the aforementioned ripped tights, and the heels that he forgot to replace — and there was no way he was going back there! — he was at least, softly thankful for the fact that Caitlyn didn’t ask any _bedroom _questions.