A clothing store

After being hurriedly pulled along for several blocks, Nell turns quickly into a small shop on a corner. The fabrics on display instantly give away the shop's specialty, and a huge wave of relief goes over you, knowing that you won't have to worry about standing naked in the busy street for all to see.

You begin gawking at the many fabrics and patterns on display while Nell speaks to the tailor for a while. You marvel at the bright colors and soft cloth samples. You would have never been able to afford an outfit made with any of these fabrics with your own money. Maybe this situation isn't so bad after all. Your daydreaming about clothes is cut short, however, by the tailor grabbing you by the arm and guiding you toward the front corner of the store. He immediately pulls out a measuring tape and lines it along your leg and up your torso. Your body is pushed this way and that, regularly poked to get you to stand up straight, your limbs held out one at a time.

It is not until the tailor asks you to turn around so he can measure your back that you realize what had been going on behind you. This pedestal was situated in direct view of the busy intersection, no doubt to advertise expensive outfits being fitted on high-class clients, but right now it was giving every passer-by a full view of your nude form. The raised platform even made it so onlookers not directly in front of the store got a clear view of your bust. You don't get enough time to fully take in your current situation before your arms are pushed up and the measuring tape swings around your chest. You blush as the small crowd that has now formed gets a full view of the tailor getting a bust size measurement, though you're pretty sure he is getting more touchy on your soft bosom than entirely necessary. As he continues with the waist and hip measurements he continues to be uncomfortably feely, caressing your back to help you "calm down" and getting a feel of all of your curves to "help the outfit fit better". He even slides his hands up your thighs, ever so slightly touching your most intimate folds. The sensation makes you jump slightly, eliciting excitement from a few of those watching you and causing the tailor to firmly grab your waist in one hand and an asscheek in the other to keep you still.

After he is done taking all your measurements, he grumbles a low, "Stay here," and casually walks away. As he leaves you to begin making your outfit, you are left shyly attempting (and failing) to cover your intimate areas, unsure how long you will have to stand there.