Looking Pretty in Aisle 3

They were about to head out for a quick grocery run, her pulling on a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie as he finished tying his sneakers. When she stepped out of the bedroom, ready to leave, he looked her up and down with a furrowed brow, lips twisting in a disapproving frown.

“Seriously? You’re wearing that?” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “You look like a slob. Can’t you put in a little effort? It’s embarrassing.”

Rolling her eyes, she tugged her hoodie down. “It’s just shopping, babe. And besides, this way I don’t have to deal with creepy old guys ogling me.”

He waved her off dismissively. “It’s not that bad. You’re making me look bad too, you know.”

Her lips twisted into a tight smile, eyes narrowing with a flash of annoyance. “Oh really? You think it’s so easy? Maybe you’d understand if you knew what it was like.”

He snorted, leaning against the doorframe. “If I were a girl, I’d love to look pretty for my man. I wouldn’t mind a few harmless stares.”

“Oh?” she said, eyes narrowing with a wicked glint. “Is that so?”

After nearly an hour of patient work, he was perched on her vanity stool, freshly shaven from head to toe, his skin smooth and sensitive under her careful touch. He blinked in disbelief as she swept foundation across his cheeks, each stroke of the brush another step in his reluctant transformation. Her skilled fingers blended it seamlessly, leaving his skin with a dewy, feminine glow. He squirmed in the seat, eyes widening as she painted his lips with a glossy coral pink that shimmered under the bright vanity lights.

“Do we really have to do this?” he mumbled, shifting in his seat.

“Oh hush,” she purred, gently pressing the last press-on nail into place with a dab of glue. “You said you’d be fine with the stares, didn’t you? I’m just giving you a chance to prove me wrong, sweetie.”

She tugged him up and turned to her closet. From it, she pulled a form-fitting, light grey romper—clingy and scandalously short. She held it up with a mischievous grin.

He swallowed, cheeks already pink as she guided his arms through the romper’s straps and smoothed the fabric down over his freshly waxed thighs. The snug material hugged every inch of his smooth, feminized body, pulling tight around his hips and riding up between his cheeks, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. His backside strained the thin cotton, a constant reminder of how exposed and vulnerable he was.

She gave his bottom a light swat. “Perfect,” she said smugly, her eyes dancing with wicked amusement. Then she took his dainty hand in hers, leading him straight out to the car and heading to the grocery store together.

When they arrived, she turned off the engine and gave him a smile that was both sweet and sharp. “Alright,” she murmured, pulling a small folded list from her purse and slipping it into his trembling hand. “Go get the shopping done, princess,” she whispered, her voice a low purr. “And have fun.”

His heart raced as he stepped into the store, feeling every inch of his exposed skin. He’d never realized how the cold air of the refrigerated section bit at bare legs or how the stares felt like laser beams crawling across his ass. His hands fidgeted at his sides, nails clicking nervously against the handle of the shopping basket.

It wasn’t so bad, he told himself, ducking his head and trying to focus on the neat rows of juices and fruit. Sure, a few looks here and there, but nothing he couldn’t handle. His cheeks burned as he reached for a carton of pineapple juice, brushing his hair out of his face with a practiced flip.

Then it happened.

A man in a navy polo walked by, brushing past his backside. His rough fingers slid across the soft curve of his ass—an unmistakable, possessive squeeze.

“Oops, sorry,” the man said, a wolfish grin curling at his lips as he moved on.

He froze, pulse pounding in his ears. This wasn’t just “harmless stares.” This was humiliating, violating—exactly what his girlfriend had warned him about.

He glanced over his shoulder, desperate to spot her in the distance. She stood at the end of the aisle, arms folded, an amused smile playing on her lips as she watched her boyfriend—no, girlfriend—squirm under the attention.

She was already imagining how “Isabella” would join her on these trips more often. But that was her little secret. For now, he could just worry about keeping his thighs pressed tight and his head down, cheeks flushed as he moved down the aisle, one cautious step at a time.