Bare Again, Au Naturaly

The air in the alley was cool, tinged with the scent of the impending rain. As she turned onto a major thoroughfare, the low hum of conversation and music enveloped her. Blue Sector's neon lights cast lurid hues over a bustling crowd of revelers, mercenaries, and off-duty workers, all out to lose themselves for a night. The glowing sign for a transit stop a few blocks away promised a speedy return to the spacedocks and her ship with her warm, all-encompassing armor.

Her current outfit was a chaotic array of slim pink and gold straps twisted around her to constrain and accentuate her slender form. Strategically placed glittery strips of fabric crossed her breasts and more wound around her legs, leaving stretches of bare thigh while still pulling her knees together in a hobble skirt designed to shorten her strides and **** a sexy sway to her ass, all while leaving her toned abs and lower back bare. Her sexy wiggle felt all the more enticing because of the little heart, bellybutton piercing sliding over exposed flesh with each sway. Her reflection in a storefront window confirmed her deepest fear and inexplicable thrill: she didn’t look like an assassin sneaking toward freedom, she looked like a high-end courtesan strutting to her next appointment.

Fennec stumbled on her platform heels, sending hoop earrings swaying and forcing her to splay out her long-nailed hands for balance. A strong arm steadied her - a goateed Corellian. His eyes raked over her. “Nice accessories, sweetheart,” he leered, making a show of gesturing at her bouncing nipple piercings.

She tried to fire back, but the words stuck, mangled by her swollen lips. “Geh loft in a hypa-jump!” she managed, her voice warbling with unintentional petulance. Her cheeks flared hotter as the Corellian chuckled, clearly entertained.

“Careful, doll,” he called as she tottered away. “Someone might mistake you for merchandise.”

The tip-tap of a slow rainfall was starting around her. One drop hit her shoulder and traced an arching trek over her modest breast that left her flushed, making her acutely aware of the hypersensitive state the pod had created in her skin.

Finally the transit kiosk loomed ahead of her. She didn't have credits for the ride, but she'd learned a couple useful hacks in her time. Wobbling over on her absurd heels, she tapped furiously at the screen. Her gilded nails clacked obnoxiously, repeatedly missing the tiny icons. With an angry 'boop' the kiosk locked her out.

No hacks with these useless nails. Dank farrik, she thought, could my luck get any worse tonight?

With a crack of thunder, the slow rain became a hard one.

The downpour came swiftly, soaking Fennec's exposed skin and sending a chill racing down her spine. The straps of her outfit, already precarious, darkened and softened as water saturated them. She cursed under her breath, wobbling to find shelter under the meager overhang of a noodle stand. The vendor glanced at her with a raised brow but said nothing as she shivered, arms crossed over her chest.

The rain intensified, pelting her from all sides. She felt the straps of her outfit shift unnaturally against her skin, stretching in places they shouldn’t. Fennec’s heart sank as realization struck.

“No, no, no…” she murmured, tugging futilely at the dissolving fabric. The synthetic material, clearly not designed for durability, began to melt away in streaks of pink and gold, leaving her exposed piece by piece. Within moments, her carefully arranged, if ridiculous, outfit was nothing more than a few tatters clinging to her soaked form.

Laughter and whistles erupted from a small crowd of onlookers who had gathered under nearby awnings. One man let out a low whistle, while another called, “Nice shoes, sweetheart! Didn’t know they came with a free show.”

Fennec’s face burned hotter than it ever had in combat. Her instincts screamed at her to fight back, to lash out, but instead, she felt frozen. The mortifying thrill of being the center of attention, helpless and objectified, warred with her indignation. Without thinking, she turned and bolted, wobbling off into the rain, her heels clacking against the wet pavement.

Every step was a precarious balance between speed and staying upright, her towering shoes threatening to betray her. The rain trickled down her increasingly bare skin as she raced through the streets. Neon lights flickered, illuminating her wet, naked form and eliciting more jeers and cheers from passersby.

Finally, she spotted a sprawling junkyard known as The Pit. Its looming gates stood slightly ajar, a rusted sign creaking overhead. She slipped through, losing the last scrap of cloth as it melted in her long nails. Fennec entered a maze of discarded machinery, old starship parts, and tangled scrap.

Inside, Fennec leaned against a burnt-out ATST hull, her modest chest heaving as she caught her breath, her exposed nipple piercings shining in the lamp light. The silence of the junkyard was a stark contrast to the cacophony outside. She scanned her surroundings, looking for anything to cover herself with, but the piles of junk offered little comfort, so she settled for a dry place to hide her nakedness. A spot among the piled speeder chassis presented itself.

“Dank farrik,” she hissed, as she stumbled awkwardly towards her refuge. Long nails made it nearly impossible to grip properly, and the heels threw off her balance. She slipped, landing unceremoniously on her knees with a squeal on an old landspeeder. slid across the rain slicked hood, and landed ass up in the open cockpit. Her indignation rose again, but so did the thrill.

The junkyard was empty, save for the occasional scurry of vermin. Yet, as she moved deeper into The Pit, she couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching her. These clumsy shoes made every step a gamble. She stumbled again, catching herself on the edge of a discarded swoop before finally reaching her destination.

Squeezing into the little spot beneath a tipped over walker, she squatted in her heels, arms wrapped around her wet flesh, pink pigtails plastered to her skin.

A faint thump echoed somewhere nearby. Her head snapped up, her pulse quickening. “Who’th there?” she demanded, her plumped lips mangling the words into something comical. The sound of her own voice made her cringe.