Look for her clothing

Valerie rubbed nervously at her elbows, a gesture which, she noticed, prevented her arms from covering her breasts.

"Okay, so..." she thought to herself "This is obviously some weird prank or something. Maybe I can't cover up because of some sort of hypnotic suggestion? I don't know what my parents are thinking, or how the neighbour kept a straight face through it all, but there's no other explanation. Which means that my clothes must be hidden somewhere."

Letting her arms rest at her sides, Valerie began a systematic search of the house, starting with the lower level. In the living room she pulled out the sofa cushions and knelt down to look beneath them, but there was nothing there. Nothing behind them, either. The rug was holding no mysteries, and the TV reflected her nude form in it's inky blackness. Leaving the room in some disarray she returned to the kitchen, although her search here was briefer. Her time spent here in the morning confirmed that nothing obvious was outstanding, so she quickly opened up the cupboards to be greeted only by mugs, plates and cutlery. Giving a groan of frustration, her gaze settled on the laundry hamper in the corner of the room.

"Laundry!" she exclaimed.

She began to dig through the hamper, hoping to find some remnant of her wardrobe. She didn't find anything. A few socks that she recognised, but everything else belonged to her mother and father. But that gave her an idea...

She dashed up the staircase as fast as she could, her breasts bouncing freely as she did so, and stood on the upper landing once more. Ignoring her own room, she headed instead for her parent's bedroom and was relieved to find it unlocked. The walls within were covered in wardrobes with a big king-sized bed dominating the centre of the room. Valerie opened up one of her mother's wardrobes and felt a well of relief as she saw dresses, blouses and women's trousers lined up neatly on hangers. Sure, her mother's clothes might be a little bit big on Valerie, and they weren't really fashionable, but they were clothing and that's all that really mattered.

She pulled out a black, knee-length dress covered in orange flowers and, after discarding the hanger onto the bed, she grabbed the skirt end and prepared to lift it over her head. Somehow she missed, and tossed the dress onto the floor behind her.

"Come on Valerie." she chastised herself. "You knew how to get dressed!"

She bent over to retrieve the garment, grabbed the skirt end and tried again. This time, with her arms just inside the dress, she froze. For some reason she found that she couldn't lift her arms up. All she had to do was raise her arms up and the dress would fall into place. She began to panic as she wondered if something might be wrong with her shoulders. She let go of the dress, and her arms suddenly shot upwards.

"Oh for pity's sake." she swore, and sat down heavily onto the bed. She dropped her face into her hands. For some reason, the idea of trying the dress again made her feel queasy. It was like when she'd first woken up and tried to use her socks as an improvised top. Something about wearing the garment just felt... wrong, somehow. She threw herself backwards onto the bed - swore slightly as her head hit the discarded hanger - and closed her eyes.

She had no idea what was happening to her. She could think of no explanation as to why she couldn't wear clothes, and why everyone was treating her nudity so normally. But lying there, eyes closed, began to bring back memories to her. Something about a dream she'd had. Something important...