Pickups at the Mall

— Oh, come on, babe, stop acting like such a delicate flower! — Charlton spoke, with a smile on his face, but his tone clearly carried a trace of irritation. He loomed over the girl, hands confidently on his hips, lazily rocking on his heels. — Smile, sweetheart. You didn’t come here to read the Bible, did ya? Don’t be like that, hmm?

The girl — tall, wearing a beige shirt with neatly rolled-up sleeves — looked up at him. Calm, almost distant. Her lips moved slightly, and a chill flickered in her eyes, like the air around them suddenly dropped a few degrees.

— Back off while you still can, — she said softly, almost gently. No yelling, no aggression — just a clear warning. Brutally honest.

Charlton snorted.

— Seriously? — He straightened up, adjusted his leather jacket, and laughed. — Alright, bitch, whatever you say. You’ll regret it later…

He waved his hand dismissively, spun on his heel, and walked off, not even giving her a second glance. Along the way, he nearly knocked over a teenager on a scooter. He spotted the nearest bench in the mall, dropped onto it, and settled in comfortably, watching the girls passing by. Legs, hair, tits — all just the way he liked it. Pure bliss.

— Hey, um… — a man's voice sounded nearby, but Charlton paid no attention, his eyes locked on a blonde girl who noticed his stare and gave him a strange look. Not the usual reaction he got from women when their eyes met. There was something different in her gaze, like an unspoken question — You need help? — but he didn’t have time to process it.

That same male voice spoke again:

— Um, my name’s Steve. And you are?

Charlton sharply turned his head, seeing a man with glasses in front of him. Irritated, he jerked his shoulder and barked:

— The fuck, nerd?! Lost your damn mind or what?!

Steve stepped back slightly, clearly not expecting that reaction, while Charlton coughed, confused by how weird his voice sounded… and then he froze.

Something was wrong.

His throat didn’t respond with its familiar low rumble — instead, the sound was… bright, high-pitched. Almost girly.

— What the fuck… — he muttered, but again heard that voice — not his own. His hand flew to his neck, and what he felt shocked him to the core. Perfectly smooth, soft skin — no trace of the usual stubble, no roughness he was so used to in the mornings.

His fingers slid higher — chin, cheekbones. All smooth, unnaturally so.

He dropped his gaze abruptly — and froze in horror. Thin wrists wrapped in a light sleeve. A small silver bracelet on his left wrist. Knees pressed together, almost automatically — and then the realization hit: he was wearing a short skirt. Below — white tights. And the legs… slender, smooth, long, neat. Not his legs.

— What the… — he exhaled. His chest and ribs felt compressed, making it hard to breathe.

It was a bra.

— Um… are you alright? — Steve’s voice now sounded closer, more persistent. He clearly didn’t understand what was happening, but he could sense — something was very wrong.

Charlton sharply turned his head toward him, long strands of hair immediately falling onto his forehead, slightly blurring his vision. He tossed them back with a sharp movement, but it looked more like a nervous twitch of a scared girl than the reaction of a confident guy. And Steve noticed that. Charlton noticed it too.

— Back off, — he hissed, but heard it with his new voice — high-pitched, trembling, not threatening at all.

Steve was about to say something, but another male voice cut in.

— You heard what the lady told you? — the voice was deep, confident, rough, carrying a threat that was impossible to miss. Charlton — or whoever he had become now — flinched and looked up.

A huge Latino was standing in front of him, wearing a dark tank top and jeans, his arms covered in tattoos, short-cropped hair. He stared at Steve without blinking, like looking at a hole in his schedule — irritated and slightly disgusted.

— Oh… sorry, I didn’t know, — Steve raised his hands, stepping back. — I just wanted to say hi…

— Say hi, — Rico chuckled, stepping closer, — and what did she tell you? “Back off,” right? So get lost. Back off.

— Fuck both of you! — Charlton stood up, and right away her ankle twisted in such a way that she fell straight into Rico's arms. Rico caught her almost automatically — one arm under her back, the other under her knees. Her body was light, almost weightless, nothing like what he was used to. His lips curled into a grin.

— Careful there, princess, — he muttered, staring straight into her eyes. — Those heels are a dangerous thing.

Charlton tried to break free, but her arms were now so thin and weak she couldn’t even push Rico away.

— Hey! — she squealed — not on purpose, purely by instinct. Her voice cracked into a shriek, slicing through the air. Even Rico raised an eyebrow.

— Easy, easy, baby girl, — Rico let her go, and Charlton almost collapsed again, but managed to stay on her feet.

— I’m not your baby girl, asshole! — she snapped with a trembling voice, trying to keep at least a shred of dignity, but honestly, it didn’t come out convincing at all. Her tone was too high, too broken, even to her own ears it sounded like she was having a meltdown.

Rico chuckled, about to say something, but noticing a mall security guard approaching, he simply raised his hands, palms out.

— Alright, alright, gorgeous, peace, — Rico muttered, stepping back and nodding toward the guard. — Didn’t mean to ruin the first impression. Name's Rico, and yours?

Charlton glared at him without answering, flipping him off instead, then lowered her gaze to her body again. Her hands, with those slender fingers, reached for her Breasts — under the fabric of the top and bra, something was hiding, something heavy, pressing, warm — something she — no, now definitely she — couldn’t ignore.

— No fucking way… — she whispered, feeling the curves that with every second became more and more real. Her fingers trembled slightly, touching the firm, soft, and sensitive shape through the fabric. This was… this was not funny at all.

— Oh damn, already checking if everything’s in place, sweetheart? — Rico was way too close again, his voice right at her ear. He squatted next to her, resting an elbow on the back of the bench. — I’ve got some experience too, y’know — with that kinda stuff…

— Fuck off, idiot! — she spat sharply.

— Everything alright, miss? — the approaching security guard asked cautiously, throwing a suspicious glance at Rico.

— I! I’m not a miss, hear me?! — she shouted across the whole mall, her voice cracking into a shriek. — I’m a man! My name’s Charlton Reed! I swear I was just… I! This body — this isn’t my fucking body!

Rico burst out laughing, leaning back on the bench.

— Hey, lieutenant, I think the girl’s lost her damn mind, — he chuckled, folding his arms across his chest.

The security guard — the badge on his chest read “Dan Mitchell” — frowned. The situation was clearly spiraling beyond a normal conflict.

— Ma’am… — he said cautiously, stepping closer, — are you alright? Have you taken anything today?

— I was just a man! Look at me! This isn’t my body! I had… — Charlton’s eyes darted to her knees wrapped in white tights, then to the Breasts under her top, and her hand shot between her legs. — Fuck! It’s… it’s gone too, you get that?!

— Alright, ma’am, — security guard Dan’s tone turned sharper, — please… no details like that. This is a public place.

— I’m not a ma’am! I —

— That’s enough, — Dan raised his hand, cutting her off, exchanging a glance with Rico, who was now playing the innocent bystander. — Ma’am, do you have any ID on you?

— No, fuck, of course not! — she snapped, feeling her throat already sore from all the yelling. — My ID was in my jacket. Leather, black biker jacket. I put it on this morning, it was on me when I… when I was still me!

— I see… — Dan shook his head, stepping toward the radio on his belt. — Jackson, this is Dan. I’ve got a possible unstable situation in sector D-4. Female, no ID, showing aggression, screaming she’s a man. I repeat: no documents. Behavior is unstable.

— I’M NOT A WOMAN! — she screamed again, her voice hitting an even higher pitch, nearly a squeak. — You dumb fuck, you even looking at me?! You think I put THIS on myself willingly?! — she grabbed the edges of her blouse and yanked it over her head, left standing in the middle of the mall wearing nothing but a light-pink bra. Thin straps hugged her shoulders, soft cups holding up perky Tits, impossible to look away from. Even Dan, the seasoned security guard, froze for a moment, confusion written all over his face.

— Holy fuck… — she muttered, looking down. — These… these aren’t… my… Tits! I’ve got fucking Boobs! Why the hell are they so huge?!

Immediately, the sound of phone cameras clicking filled the air as bystanders took pictures of the scene — a half-naked girl with messy hair, panicking and grabbing her Boobs in the middle of the mall, screaming she was a man. Someone was clearly already streaming the chaos, laughing and whispering.

Dan suddenly stepped forward.

— That’s enough! — he barked, ripping off his jacket and throwing it over her shoulders, covering her Breasts. — Come with me, ma’am. Now. You’re disturbing public order.

— But I’m not… — she started, but her own voice cracked again into a shriek. — I’m not a woman! I’m a man!

— Sure, sure, — Dan muttered tiredly. — Ma’am, I need you to come with me. Don’t make me use force.

— Don’t touch me! — She recoiled, but lost her balance on the heels and nearly collapsed, grabbing his shoulder to stay upright.

— Easy, — he muttered, — we’ve got a security room. We’ll sort this out there.

— I’ll sue you! Your fucking mall did this to me! — she kept screaming as Dan firmly guided her away from the bench. — You think I put this… this fucking skirt on myself?! Look at me! This isn’t me! This is NOT me!

The crowd giggled and snickered. Charlton glanced back, her hair flying into her face, but through the strands she saw Rico still standing by the bench, hands in his pockets. He squinted, watching her get taken away.

— Damn… — he drawled, scratching the back of his head. — Interesting girl.

He looked down at the bench where she’d been sitting — there was a small, neat light-beige handbag with a golden clasp left behind.

— Can’t just leave good stuff lying around, — Rico snorted, picking it up and turning it over in his hands.

He was about to tuck it under his arm, but the awkward movement made the bag pop open — and documents fell out.

— Well, well… — Rico whistled, picking it up. — Let’s see what we got here…

He unfolded the cover and read aloud, his grin growing wider:

— “Name: Charlotte Donovan. Sex: Female. Height: 4 feet 11 inches (150 cm). Weight: 99 pounds (45 kg). Report from Women’s Clinic: 2 months pregnant…”

Rico snorted.

— So… Charlotte… pregnant, huh…

He looked in the direction they took her, tilting his head slightly.

— Maybe that’s why she’s so jumpy… — he added, stuffing her documents into his jacket pocket and strolling away, whistling.