Full Frontal Nudity

Amy enters something that feels like a cross between a busy office, a meeting room, and a study. Men and women in smart work outfits are busy working at computers and shuffling through paperwork.

What's most shocking is not what these people are paying attention to, but what most of them are not paying attention to. Because right in front of Amy, sat on a desk, arms folded and looking rather unamused, is a completely naked young brunette woman. Even more shockingly, there is a fresh semen visibly oozing from her pussy and down onto the shiny wooden surface underneath her, undoubtedly a very recent creampie that is now on its way back out thanks to the inescapable pull of gravity. The two men in the room who are paying attention to her stand behind the desk at either side, looking calm but somewhat serious.

"Hi Amy." The woman speaks to her, sounding somewhat dejected. "I'm Jen."

This academy is so fucked up. Is Amy's initial thought. Normal academic and professional undertakings... But with sexual degradation hidden around every corner.

"You don't like what you see." Jen observes. Amy's displeasure must be apparent on her face.

"I... You... What's going on here?" Amy asks weakly.

"I'm you, Amy. From the future."

Amy narrows her eyes. "Is this some kind of dumb joke?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Jen replies in a deadpan tone. "I don't mean literally, obviously. But I'm what's waiting for you in two to three weeks. When you don't get stupidly lucky, and lose the poker game."

A spark of realization shoots through Amy's brain. "...You! You are..."

"Last year's big loser." Jen confirms.

Holy shit. She's real.

Until this moment, the idea that there was actually someone who had lost all her clothing and would be contactually obligated to be naked for the next decade of her life hadn't actually felt real. Logically, Amy had always known it was real, but until she actually saw this tangible evidence in front of her, it didn't carry the same weight.

This woman Jen's entire 20s. Zero clothing. That's mad. Insane. Unthinkable!

...And now, it could happen to her.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry-" Amy begins.

"Save it." Jen interrupts her. "I am not here for sympathy. I've been living with this for a year and yes, it sucks, I'm deeply aware of how much it sucks, and I don't need every goddamn person I ever meet to give me their condolences. I am here, to ask for you to agree to a rules variation, that will, in my opinion, improve all our lives."

"A... Rules variation?" Amy asks cautiously.

As seemed par for the course by now, it seemed like someone was about to ask Amy to sign yet another fucking contract.

"I'm naked, Amy." Jen says levelly. "Fully 100% naked. Every minute of every day. Every. Single. Day."

"Yes, I know, but-" Amy starts to respond, but Jen interrupts.

"Please, let me just say all of what I have to say first."

Amy nods and purses her lips.

Jen sighs, and continues.

"Every single day, I have zero pockets. Nowhere to put my phone except in a purse. No way to cover up my least favourite blemishes, no sleeve to wipe away a tear or a small spillage with. I have to have my ass, pussy and tits on display 24/7. I get that. But clothes... Clothes are so much more than just hiding your genitals. And you don't... You can't understand quite how much more you use your clothes, for various little things, until they are all taken away."

Jen pauses. Amy keeps her mouth shut.

"I, along with the other partial losers of last year's game, have brokered a deal. There's certainly downsides as well as benefits, but overall, we are all happy with it and have already signed a rules variation contract. However, the organizers have said that they can't simply implement a rules variation for our year without also implementing the same rules variation for your year, and any future years. Essentially, you, Becky, Cindy and Debbie all need to sign this rules variation contract as well, for it to go into effect."

Amy's eyes narrow, not wanting to get somehow tricked again, or make things worse for herself. In as neutral a voice as she can muster, she simply says "Go on."

Jen nods. "I'll start with the good bits. The clothing rules become significantly less strict. As long as the spirit of private part exposure is adhered to, the range of clothes we're allowed to wear goes from insanely restricted, to a very wide array. Even I, who lost all rights to clothing, will once again be able to feel fabric across almost all my skin, as long as my breasts and genitals remain unobscured. But, for example, I could wear a full-on wedding dress if I wanted, even one with pockets, just as long as there are sections cut out for my chest and holes. Tilly would no longer spend every single freaking day in a white, super-tight, super-high-waisted, buttocks-exposing swimsuit. The contract allows some **** generosity with regards to the overall strictness rules, too. Once in a blue moon, you could probably get away with slightly bending the modesty rules, and perhaps even I could attend a funeral without it being a serious crime of disrespect to the deceased."

Amy takes all this in, calmly and carefully. She does see how this could be a pretty big upgrade.

"But." Amy says, sort of as a question, eyebrows raised knowingly.

"I'll be completely up-front. We're not getting all that flexbility for free. In return for good days, where we can choose our own clothes, within carefully phrased modesty limits, there will be bad days. Or, at least, days with even less control than we currently have."

Jen pauses and sighs, and breaks eye contact with Amy.

"An AI algorithm will be in charge of making sure that overall, throughout our decade of contracted exposure, we endure similar levels of shame as we would have before. It will do this by being in exact control over what we wear, six sevenths of the time. So, on one day a week, you'll get to wear exactly what you want, within your exposure rules, for whatever the occasion that day demands. You can prioritise the days you'll be out the house all day, or attenting some important event, and so on. On the other six days of the week, the AI will arrange for your outfit for the day to be waiting for your doorstep when you wake. Again, it'll almost always be way more fabric than you would have gotten to wear before this rules variation, more likely you'll be able to have pockets, and sleeves, and other surprisingly useful things like that, that you'll miss if they're gone for good... But... Yeah. You'll have zero control over what you're wearing. And sometimes, you might feel like it's even more degrading than just being naked. Like, imagine if you have to wear a crotchless bodysuit covered in cartoon penises, or a collar that says 'whore' on it, or whatever."

"I see." Amy says darkly. "And do you really think that even if one or two of us decide that this rules variation is worth it, that it's actually realistic that you can fully convince all four out of four of us, and get us all to sign?"

"The other three of us have already signed." Becky's voice calls out from Amy's left.