“I can’t go through with this,” Jackson said.

“Dressing up as a woman is the only way you’re going to get close to Purity. If you want to win your bet,” Darla said. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to walk and talk. Now, if you’ll just slip into this bra…”

It was only a bra. Shoot, Jackson had seen enough of them in his time. Feeling like a complete idiot, he thrust his strong forearms through the arm loops, then shrugged them onto his rounded, powerful shoulders.

The foam-filled D cups were huge. Darla reached around and hooked the strap.

Jackson wasn’t proud of it, but his heart suddenly thudded in panic. It seemed as if his fate had been sealed somehow—as if there was no turning back now. Even worse, he realized the cups were lopsided. It looked as if a strong wind had just come along and knocked the breasts galley-west.

With a grimace, Jackson grabbed each of the cushioned cups. Darn. They were harder to wrestle than a calf from a mama cow. He hadn’t had this much trouble with a bra since he was in high school—and the wearer was a girl. Lordy, he’d never hear the end of it if the guys found out about this.

“This thing pinches,” he complained.

“Welcome to womanhood, Jackson!” Darla exclaimed perkily. “Wait until you try panty hose!”