You had several thoughts at once that suddenly converged for form a new ideal. You had slipped so fully into this girl that you found it easy think like her. She liked clothes and was constantly changing them.
Your own mind was still in control however and thought that this girl was attractive. In fact she was gorgeous. You wanted to look at her body and enjoy the experience. The two thoughts together made trying on outfits an irresistible prospect.
Part of you didn't like the idea but you rationalized that it was really her that wanted to and you wanted to see this girl's body.
You immediately started looking through her things. You pulled out several outfits that struck one of your fancies. Some of the outfits were revealing and perhaps even slutty. Some of them were trendy and fashionable.
You stripped out of the clothes she was wearing before and put them away. You somehow knew where she kept them. You took a look at yourself in her mirror. "Nice," you said as you enjoyed looking at yourself in your underwear.
You went over to the outfits that you selected. You quickly and expertly put on the first one. It was a pair of skinny jeans with a silk top. The jeans were tight, but other than that it didn't really show off her body. Only half of you seemed happy with this outfit.
You removed these clothes and went to the next one. This one was one that your male side had picked out. It was a pair of uber short shorts with a spaghetti strap halter top that showed her stomach and cleavage.
"I am so hot," you exclaim as you look at yourself in this outfit. "But have no sense of style," you then lament.
You then decide to actively pick out an outfit that is both stylish and hot. You pick out a pleated skirt. You put it on and look at in while still just in your bra. "Hmm," you muse as you consider how to improve this. You then roll the waist so that the skirt rides up to mid thigh.
"OK, better," you say. You then decide that you'd look more classy and sexy if you put on some black pantyhose. You have never worn them before but she knows exactly what to do. You bunch them up and slide them up your legs. "Now for a top,"
You go through all of her things looking for something that is both hot and stylish. Finally you find a top that leaves lots of cleavage, matches your skirt, and isn't trashy. You put it on and go look at yourself.
"Perfect," you exclaim. You take a few pictures of yourself in your final outfit and email them to yourself on her smartphone. Then you erase the sent message and do your best to cover it up.
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