Same Old, Same Old
This always fucking happened to Jimmy; whenever he went shopping with a girl he'd end up outside the changing rooms surrounded by ladies... unmentionables and holding armfuls of girls clothing. Nothing he could do or say could prevent it so - he'd learned that much - so he just went along with it these days. Out with his girlfriend, sister or mother, it was inevitable.
"I look like a pervert," he thought, looking in a nearby mirror. "Standing here on my own for 20 minutes trying not to look at all these girls holding up bras and panties and trying to blend in."
He shuffled to one side, turning away from a group of girls and hiding behind a rack of socks and lacy things. It was a squeeze with his arms full but he didn't feel anyone staring at him like a pervert. Oh the stares... Stares that said things like "Jeez Louise, look at that dirty bastard fondling the B-Cups" and "Sir, we're with security...". The girls passed and Jimmy let out a sigh of relief. He watched the lacy things flutter under his breath.
"I never noticed how soft these things were..." he thought, looking around again. "Maybe just for a minute..."
* * *
Ten minutes later Jimmy's girlfriend came out of the changing area and tossed down a few earrings that made her ass look big and a pair of jeans she would never have fit in anyway.
"I swear they tag these things wrong Jimmy," she started "They never fit where you - Jimmy?!"
She looked at the creature sprawled in front of her on the floor. Somewhere under the mass of frilly panties, bras stuffed with socks and various necklaces was something vaguely Jimmy shaped. He was bright purple, sweating like a whale beached in Mexico and panicking like a Canadian seal, but had somehow found time to plaster his face with bad make-up.
This always fucking happened to Jimmy's girlfriend; whenever she went shopping with him she'd end up outside the store paying for good covered in miscellaneous stains and traumatised staff...