Wet Seals and Lingerie

I'm a pretty big guy, so it made sense that I would hop into a water fountain full of nude women who seemed to enjoy splashing each other. After all, I am a seal. So I got onto my stomach, trying my best to remove my shirt and cell phone, then just dove right in to the squeals of the women. "Awoo!" I wailed, though uncertain of what sound a seal makes. The women seemed confused, amused, and a little scared but they just kept splashing each other as I swam around, definitely appreciating the view and trying my best to hide my boner, which scratched along the fountain's floor.

I was confused at why they suddenly began fondling each other, maybe this was some weird lesbian meetup thing. "Awoo-oo!"

I was frankly appalled at the new "marketing" tactic these girls were attempting, but I suppose in 2017, nothing should really shock me anymore. After I finished my conversation with the thong-clad bimbo folding shirts, I set off to buy what I came here for: some comfy lounge clothes.

Which is why I found it very odd that I spontaneously decided to buy some lingerie. Harry and I had a very slow and quiet sex life, and I honestly preferred it that way. But I figured I could spice things up while I was here; we had the money. Nothing too racy. I didn't quite have the figure I had years ago.

I ended up in the changing room with four sets of lingerie and the two sets of lounge clothes I came in for. At first I was only going to try on the bras, but something amazing happened. When I woke up and dressed myself that morning, well, I was clearly fifty-one years old. Wrinkles and the like. But staring in the Victoria's Secret dressing room mirror, I looked no older than forty. In fact, I felt forty. My right knee was no longer in that constant, dull pain. And though I only wore glasses when I read, I felt like I could see better as well. My body felt more muscular and -- ahem -- my breasts did appear to have eleven less years on them.

I looked damn good for my age! I couldn't help but model each set to myself. I had to say I was also starting to "feel it"...

I exited the dressing room with a spring in my step, and paid for my clothes. The girls were still clad only in their own lingerie selections, which I thought was still very inappropriate. The manager rung me up; she was the only one dressed in her normal business clothes. She was dumpy and fat, but looked energetic. I had to ask.

"What's with the girls in their underwear today?"

The manager eyes went blank and she stared at me. She emotionlessly stated, "I would love to dress up, but I am just too fat. So I am going to hit the gym five times a week until I can look good in lingerie too." She shook her head as if snapping out of a trance, and continued on as though I'd never asked a question.

Things were weird today. Why do I suddenly look and feel forty? Why is this acceptable behavior and why is this manager clearly out of her mind? I brushed it off and made my way out to the mall floor. It was noisy with the occasional girlish squeak breaking through the noise. There seemed to be a commotion slowly forming.