Chapter Ten - Material Girl

The night ended unexpectedly early when Livia woke me up at eight. I had woken when her alarm clock had gone off seconds earlier but ignored it and tried going back to sleep. Yet she had other ideas. I grumbled, more out of habit but sleepiness, and she explained in no uncertain terms that we needed to go shopping.

“For what?” I asked. Sure, we needed groceries, but there was no “we” in that. Grocery shopping was one of the things that were on our “do not do together” list for a good reason.

“Work clothes and hunting clothes.”

“What?”

“Underwear for this afternoon. I don’t really want to sacrifice one of my good ones on you if it can be avoided, and my bad ones are not fit for purpose.” I had seen the Minni Mouse panties in her drawer. “And we both need something sensible for monster hunting. Your shape stays the same, but I grow by two feet or so.”

It was annoying, but she was right. My excuse for gym clothes got stressed a bit over what we made it endure yesterday. Using those moves in what I had in regard to normal, i.e., former work clothes, was a bad idea. At best, they would rip; at worst, hinder me.

“One of those systems where you have visible clothes and stat clothes would be nice,” I commented idly.

“Mmmh, could we talk Alpha into that?”

“I doubt it. Gamification is some global BS, and the setting itself doesn’t have an inventory.”

“Bummer.”

“Maybe there’s some illusion-type spell we could use for that?”

“How so?”

“Dress in the stat clothes, then put up an illusion of whatever you want to see people on you. Should be possible, but I have no idea how much mana or magical energy or whatever the system uses that would take. If a sustained spell uses more than your regeneration, you will run out of mana after a while.”

🙚⚜🙘

We had a quick breakfast, eating silently while my mind dreamt up a quick story about some AI empress being mindwiped and sent as an infiltration agent to a rebelling planet, something I often did to keep my mind occupied while doing stuff I didn’t need to think about. It was the first time I did that since the event, a sign that I had been very preoccupied with that.

Afterwards, Livia led me to a small boutique in the city centre, about a 15-minute walk away from our flat. It, as well as all stores on that street, looked bloody expensive, their shop windows not having prices on display only deepened that impression.

The inside was decorated in wood and brass, with each single piece on display on its own. The air was scented, and the clerk was a 10. While she wasn’t running around in underwear to promote the store’s goods, she certainly was dressed to impress. I guess they didn’t get many male customers, as they would have problems keeping their heads to the task.

Livia greeted her by name, then introduced me as her fiancée. Hearing it that way was weird, even though we had said it to each other plenty of times. But it also made me proud.

“Welcome, Jane. I see Livia has taste in more than dessous,” she said with a welcoming smile. “I’m not sure I can make you look better than you’re already looking by yourself, but I will try my best. So, what are you looking for today?” She sure knew how to butter me up.

Livia answered for me, which was good as I had no idea what to say. “Work clothes, she starting at Lessies’ today.” The fuck? You could talk about something like that in a store like this?

The clerk grinned, “to fit in or at your level?” What should that mean?

“Do you even have something below my level,” Livia quipped in reply.

“We still have a couple of pieces of last year’s collection in the back…”

“Yeah, rule those out.”

Next, they had me undress, then stand there while they fawned about different bras and panties, one more lacy than the next. In the end, they decided on four sets without even asking for my opinion. Sure, I had nothing to say; they were all pretty and risque, but it would have been nice had they at least pretended.

I nearly stumbled when I spied the total on the cash register’s display as Livia paid. I’ve never owned any piece of clothing that was worth 300 pounds, even less something that I could hide between my thumb and index finger. Now I had 8 of them. I kept quiet, having long learnt that Livia was never open to downgrading any purchase after she had decided on it for it being too expensive. Instead, I put it on my mental list of things I needed to make up to her. Right after, “atone for getting her only a cheap 800-pound engagement ring”.

Had I asked, I was sure she’d tell me to wipe that list out of existence with a vengeance, but I wouldn’t do that. Asking, I meant. I knew I had scored well above my class, and I was fully set on bettering myself and making up for my objectively worse start in life.

I had expected this to be the only stop in the morning or for the next one to be some workout clothing boutique, but instead, Livia led me into a perfume one three houses over. The place smelled heavy, even with the aircon fans whirring audibly to keep the air breathable. And, of course, Livia was on a first-name basis with the clerk there, too. To my surprise, I knew him, too. A couple of years back, we had run into him at about every second party, and our nickname for him had been Alpha Asshole. Tim was a wide-shouldered guy who had been the most toxic macho man I’ve ever met. That was in extreme contrast to the Tim I saw before me now. Although, the polite thing would be to call her Tina, as Livia did.

This time, I couldn’t hold back my laughter, which made Livia look at me as if she wanted to test out if the evil eye worked in this new reality. “Sorry,” I managed to press out between laughs. “I’m just relieved. I was so concerned about you and finding out what your issue was—I’m so happy for you!”

“Oh, thank you. So Livia hasn’t tattled on me? We’ve got to thank her for this.”

“Nooo…Livia?”

“It was nothing, really.”

“Darling, just tell her.” Tina smiled wildly.

“Nothing, really. I figured Tim was that mean because he was a virgin, and was a virgin because he was so mean to girls. I wanted to break that cycle and fucked him. We got to talking after, and somehow, I picked up on some clues. Treated him like a her from then on, we started trading makeup tips, and one thing left to another…”

“She makes it sound so easy,” Tina mused.

“But it was. You clung to me like a drowning puppy. I had to do nothing but be myself.”

“And you just happened to have that skirt and blouse in my size lying around that one time. Purely by chance, I’m sure.”

“Matter of fact. Yes.” Livia pointed her thumb at me. “My fiancée forgot them at my place.”

“Congratulations. But? Does that mean you two were an item, after all? Livia, you told me…”

“You slept with my girlfriend!” I intoned in mock rage. “Tell me more. I want to know all the details.” Livia elbowed me, “You’re impossible, Jane.”

“Officially, we haven’t been an item before Jane proposed, so no worries.”

I leaned into Livia and whispered, “Rule 3 pre-approved.”

Tina might not have heard what I said, but she was quick on the uptake based on our body language. She held up her own hand, “happily married on my side. Not an open relationship, though. Charlie is a bit possessive.”

“No worries, we won’t intrude on this,” Livia said. “Jane, you’ll probably meet Charlie later; they’re also working at Lessie’s.”

“This week it’s ‘she’,” Tina said with an annoyed tone. “I wish Charlie’d finally decide on her pronouns. This flip-flopping is getting on my nerves. And it isn’t as if pronouns change what she is.”

“Tina, we talked about this. Deciding on pronouns means deciding on her identity to her. For you, inside identity and what you present to the world are two different things, but for her, that’s not the case.”

I was quiet, trying to puzzle together what they were talking about. I lacked experience with all this. For me, it stopped at “present male, he; present female, she”. The rest was better left to people who knew what they were talking about, like Livia.

I may have tuned out a bit, so I was startled when Livia pushed a shopping bag into my hands. “Bye, Tina,” she said as she waved her goodbye. I chimed in.

Our next stop was more interesting and less surprising. Also cheaper, as Livia didn’t insist on designer workout clothes. We both grabbed a stack of various exercise clothes and a couple of cheap hiking trousers and outdoor shirts. We weren’t discerning; not having to penny-pinch allowed us to try out what would work at home. In the end, we still left a couple hundred pounds in that store and left schlepping some huge bags. The checkout clerk offered to call us a taxi, but we declined.

Halfway home, I connected the stares we got. “Livia, should we act as if we weren’t supernaturally strong?”

“Too late. Just pretend we’ve got some airy stuff in there.”

“The way the handles stretch, nobody’s going to buy that.”

“Trust your skill. Acting on level five should be worth something.”

“Let’s see.”

She started acting, and I joined in. I couldn’t be sure—we were out of the shopping area already—but I think the stares might have stopped. That made me think. How strong were those skills anyway? Could I, for example, walk around naked and act like I was clothed? Very unlikely, but funny to imagine. Naked Empress Jane I.

🙚⚜🙘

Back home, we only had half an hour left until I needed to be at the apartment. Livia quickly dragged me through the shower, slapped a pair of the new sexy underwear and perfumes onto me, and then shoved me out the door after calling a taxi. I evaded her grip, ran into the bedroom and threw on a skirt and T-shirt. I had no interest in testing out if acting dressed would work.

“Oh, right,” Livia admitted. “No freebies for the public.” She winked.