Getting home and going back

Cycling nude was… an experience.

Emily prided herself on being open to new experiences. This one, though, she wouldn’t have minded skipping.

The leather of the bike seat stopped feeling cool after the first minute, now it was just pressing into her butt, and the narrower front was considerably more embarrassing now she lacked pants. She squirmed a bit, sometimes not completely sure if she was angling for less friction or for more.

And with both hands on the handlebars, there was very little she could do to hide her breasts beyond awkwardly angling her elbows, and even that failed as they moved with her frantic pedalling.

She weaved between traffic, for once in her life not caring about traffic laws, catching sight of far too many people through car windows as she sped as best she could. She squirmed on the bike seat, soon realizing there really wasn’t any entirely comfortable way to sit when she was like this.

It didn’t help that she was slowly becoming aware of how comparatively not-fast her biking was. She felt like she was on display every second as she smoothly glided along between car window and car window, and on the rare open stretch of road.

Her face burned, and only got warmer as the bike seat rather insistently pressed against her.

She was out of breath by the time she caught sight of her apartment, and gladly ducked off the road, crashing as much as stopping in the bike shed. She took a deep breath, legs unsteady, and hurried for the door to her apartment building.

It was a relief to finally get out of the open air, though she didn’t relax at all until she made it up the stairs and ran, hands waving from side to side in an indistinct flail, and used a hidden key to get into her apartment.

Then she collapsed, and took a deep breath. She sat naked on the floor for a minute or two before remembering to get dressed.

She didn’t have the day off, despite, well, everything, and judging by how all the other women had gone to work today, she doubted she would.

Exhausted and out of breath from her frantic cycling, Emily pushed herself up to her feet and walked to her bedroom, faltering in front of her mirror.

She squeaked immediately. Was that how everyone had seen her?

Light brown skin, with long, smooth legs, both firm, up to her bare core that was still showing a few signs of how the journey had… affected her. Her breasts, small but still undeniable, with lightly curled dark hair that only went as far as her shoulders.

Emily flushed, unconsciously crossing her arms.

How many people had seen her like this?

Still, she quickly ducked into the bathroom, using a towel to clear off a few specks of grime and other signs of her exposure, before finally returning to her bedroom. She only lingered in front of the mirror for a couple of minutes then, before going to her wardrobe.

She’d come back for a change of clothes. She just needed to dress again, then…

Oh. Wait. If she just wore her normal clothes, chances seemed good she’d be stripped again for as long as this went on.

Which meant… Emily hurried to find her phone, then picked out Jackie’s number.

“Hey, it’s Emily,” she babbled all at once. “I made it home but I don’t know what to wear, what can I put on that won’t get me stripped again please thank you!”

There were a few quiet seconds as Jackie unpacked her frantic squealing.

“What do you have?” Jackie said eventually. “No, wait, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. You need something that will make someone look at you and think you look good enough it’s not worth getting you naked.”

“And that’ll work?”

“It’s not perfect,” Jackie admitted. “But the odds are better. Do you have a swimsuit? I’m guessing you didn’t buy a wardrobe to prepare.”

“No one told me it was happening!” Emily said. “But yeah, I think I’ve got something, er…”

She crouched to open a drawer at the bottom of her wardrobe, sorting through her lesser-worn clothes. There was something for vacations somewhere around there.

There!

“Describe it,” Jackie said.

“Er, dark navy, one piece,” Emily began.

“No,” Jackie interjected. “Has to be a bikini if you want any hope. Have one of them?”

“What?” Emily squeaked. “No! I don’t wear bikinis, just…”

“Oh. Improvise one?”

“No one else wore their underwear!” Emily said.

“We got outfits that people like otherwise,” Jackie said. “If you won’t even go swimming in a bikini, I’m guessing you haven’t got any fetishy costumes either.”

Emily coughed. She shuffled sideways, opening another drawer, cheeks warming a little more.

“Emily?” Jackie said.

“I’ve got a Wonder Woman costume?” Emily said. She coughed again quickly. “It was a gift!”

“That… could work,” Jackie said thoughtfully.

Emily pulled the outfit out. It was surprisingly high quality, as far as such things went, the shading tending darker and more realistic rather than garish, and it was sturdier and tight rather than just cloth.

But it was still a rather short skirt, and still lacked shoulder-straps, very plainly not for use outside the bedroom. It was about as far from a decent cosplay as one could get.

And it was certainly more… provocative than underwear, even if it technically covered more skin. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“Wait, who bought you that?!” Jackie said. “It wasn’t that henchman was it? I could picture…”

“No!” Emily squealed. “And it doesn’t matter, and it totally wasn’t Green Fury, and those headlines definitely weren’t accurate, okay?”

There were a few more moments of silence. Jackie cleared her throat.

“Well. Anyway. You’ll have to wear something like that, unless you’ve got another idea.”