A Change of Clothes

Hana frowned at the old uniform. Would it even still fit her? And if it did, did she really want to go around looking like an Academy student? It seemed so...seedy. Yet there was nothing else, she checked again just to make sure. The wardrobe was empty, all her past self had seen fit to bring here in the way of clothes was this. She unclipped the skirt and placed the rest of the outfit on the bed, holding it against her. The thing barely covered her crotch! She knew now if she was going to wear this at all, she'd need a new pair of panties. She turned back to the wardrobe, struggling to recall if she'd ever put a spare supply of underwear somewhere. A few dim notions of something under the bed came to her, and so she tossed the pink plaid skirt onto the bed and crouched to look under it, lifting the side of the duvet up to get a better look. A-ha! There, a little clear plastic box! She got onto her knees and reached for it, dragging it softly across the cream carpet and cracking it open. Jackpot! Inside there were panties of all shapes and colours - she felt positively spoiled for choice!

She chose an acid green pair of Brazilian-style knickers, the kind that sat low on the hips with a little bit of cheeky flair around the back, where they cut away to reveal little more cheek than was the standard. She'd bought these, she remembered now with a certain fondness, when the team had gone out to Rio De Janeiro together to celebrate Lucio's birthday. That had been a fun long weekend, although she had gotten a little too tipsy, as she'd ended up at a club dancing atop a table with a handsome young guy who'd been an old friend of Lucio's while wearing only a bikini, grinding into him as he grooved away behind her. God, Carlos had been fun. She came back to the moment with a hint of disappointment, remembering that she was not in the heart of Brazil during Carnival Season, dancing a red hot summer night away with an equally hot guy, but was instead a hostage in her own apartment, currently in her birthday suit while a hulking mercenary-cum-terrorist guarded the door to prevent her escape.

Hana exhaled quietly, then pushed the box back under the bed and slipped the Brazilian knickers on. These, she reminisced, were the exact kind of undercrackers she usually had gone for back during those heady days at the Academy. How nostalgic, she thought, patting her crotch in relief at it at last being covered. She then picked up the skirt, doing it up and looking down at the situation below. The vivid green of her new panties could clearly be seen if she bent or leaned forward even a little, so she'd need to watch out for that. Now, she thought with some relish, finally some coverage for the ol' boobies. She took the shirt off the hangar and put it on, having to pull it and stretch it into place slightly so she could begin buttoning it. It was a size or two too small, but it would have to do. She inspected the state of her chest and saw, to her dismay, that her boobies were pressing quite insistently against the white cotton of the shirt, her fairly pale complexion overriding its colour. You could clearly see she wasn't wearing a bra, you could clearly see the exact hue and circumference of her areolas for god's sake! The blazer would be needed, she concluded. Hana went back to the wardrobe a third time, searching every inch of it for a sign of the blazer, finally she spotted a bit of cloth sticking up from behind a wall panel, and tugged on it to retrieve the elusive item. It must have fallen behind there at some point and been forgotten, poor thing.

Hana dusted the blazer off and tried to get into it. It was incredibly constrictive, but she managed it, buttoning only one button (she dared not try for any more, less they ping off) and smiling as she looked down, no longer able to see the intimate features of her chest. Lastly, she put on a pair of white knee-socks that had been hanging from the middle-bar of the hangar, wriggling her toes in satisfaction. It had taken a good couple of hours, but she was decent again. "I'm done!" She called, and Roadhog turned to face her again. "Fuck," he said at the sight of her. "You look like something right out of a por-" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Never mind, thinkin' out loud." She looked every bit the Academy student, standing there with her hands placed primly behind her back, her legs covered up to the, well, the knee by the thin white socks, then above that, her back half covered in mostly complete fashion by the little plaid skirt, which ended just above her creamy thighs, hovering invitingly just high enough to make one wonder what it was hiding. Moving further up, the black blazer covered her abdomen, with just a hint of that oh-so-tighty, oh-so-whitey shirt visible through the collar. Her hair cascaded down her back, as always, and her pink, striped warpaint was slightly smudged from the car 'ride'.

"Looking...educational," Roadhog said, his gaze lingering on her for a few more seconds before he went out into the living area. "Okay, Hana," she said to herself, "You can do this, whatever they try to throw at you!" She started forward, real confidence entering her stride again for the first time she'd had the back of her suit blown out back at the bank. It would be alright. She was sure of it.

Back in the living room, Roadhog and the three Park Rangers were waiting. "Up and at 'em, boys," He commanded. Hana frowned, "Where are we going now?"

"Chonggye Plaza. It's like I said, we got something planned. Now get your pretty little shoes on, we leave in two."