Sailor Suit

Clara didn't have any real intention of wearing the sailor suit, but she was so astonished by the TARDIS' brazenness in placing it here, she felt obliged to get a better look. Moving in closer, she reached out and picked it up by the hangar, turning away from the rest of the racks to inspect it. Just as she'd thought, not even the teensiest pair of knickers to cover your bottom half with, just the top half of a sailor suit, with the implicit message no doubt being either to bring your own or go without. Clara shivered at the thought of wearing such a thing, although...a certain Mr. Pink might appreciate the look of it on her. She smirked, making a mental note to swing by another time and take this thing for her...private collection. As she turned back round to put it back in its place on the rack, the smirk died on her lips. The apparently endless racks of clothing that had previously been there were now empty, devoid of a single scrap of clothing. "Oh...you crafty old..." She said, breathily. The TARDIS was playing a game with her, though this one, she just couldn't find it in herself to laugh at.

Clara took a breath, looking down as she held the sailor suit against herself. This was salvageable, she at least had something already covering her bottom half, all she really needed, all that was really essential was a top, when you got right down to it. Shaking her head, she took the blue suit off the hangar and pulled it on over her head. The minute it settled onto her, she felt a...lightness? As if the tiniest, most insignificant weight had somehow been removed from her body. She went to scratch an itch on her arse, and gradually came to the realisation that there was nothing there. She patted the area around her bum and crotch, and felt only bare skin. Frantically, she lifted up the sailor suit and saw...nothing. Those racy, racy knickers of hers were gone, and on her bottom half, she was wearing absolutely nothing, even the stockings had vanished.

Her hands went to her front, and she found herself dropping into a kind of half-crouch. "Fuck, no, no! How is that possible? Since when could you make my clothes disappear?!" She bit her lip and looked around the room, still seeing absolutely nothing else to wear. Eventually, she resorted to waddling up and down the entire length of the wardrobe, hands pressed firmly to her crotch so as to protect her modesty as she checked and double-checked to see if she'd missed anything. She had no such luck, and at the end of it she was skipping in a revolving pattern back up to the door, turning in all directions so as not to miss any more hidden cameras. When she reached it, Clara looked back at the empty Wardrobe before her and grumbled, going back through the door and yelping as it shut just a little too quickly behind her, snapping shut on her buttocks.

Rubbing her exposed backside, she glared at the closed door. "That wasn't funny, you hear?! None of this is funny!" In what sounded like a response, a series of rhythmic puffs of steam echoed down the corridor, almost as if the TARDIS were laughing at her.