The tribute parade

Peeta and the rest of my team were already waiting for us when we enter the cavernous bowels underneath an amphitheatre. A dozen golden chariots are lined up, and I can hear the roar of the crowd from outside.

"Oh, you look wonderful, Katniss!" Effie gushes, flapping over. She lay her hands on my breasts and squeezes. "Yes, these will work perfectly," she smiles, complimenting my prep team while making lewd comments about my body. Her spiked heels came dangerously close to skewering my bare feet, and I was grateful when Peeta allowed me to escape onto the chariot.

"You OK?" he asks, trying not to gawp at me. Peeta is fully dressed. Of course he is; he doesn't have boobs for the Capitol to stare at.

"I'm fine, thanks," I reply, avoiding eye contact, and fidgeting with my skirt. If I didn't keep my hands busy, they would fly back to my chest.

Effie's outburst attracted the attention of the rest of the tributes. I do my best to ignore the stares they're directing at me, but can't help but notice the little girl from District 11. When she catches my eye, she winks and giggles.

The anthem of Panem starts to play, and the first of the chariots moves off. My breasts start to bounce as our chariot falls into line. As we emerge into the arena, Peeta grabs my hand, and holds it aloft.

The roar, which had already been loud, becomes deafening when we appear. Large screens have been erected along the route, to allow those placed further back in the audience the chance to see what was going on. The cameras flicked between each set of tributes, but held on Peeta and myself for longer. Or more specifically, on my naked torso.

My bare toes squirmed when I remembered this was mandatory viewing in the Districts; everyone back home would be seeing this. It was lucky that I'd be dead in a few days time; I could never show my face again after this.

Even though my heart is beating rapidly in my heaving chest, I manage to maintain enough of my composure to not start crying; and judging by my face on the big screens, my blush isn't too noticeable.

The procession comes to an end with a semi circle of chariots facing President Snow. By the time the have been completed, I'm visibly shivering. I have no body hair to trap warm air against my skin, and I'm uncomfortably aware of how cold my breasts are erect. I have to constantly flex my bare toes to keep blood flowing around my feet.

The other tributes get another chance to oggle me as we dismount from the chariots outside the Tribute Centre.

"Nice tits," I hear someone say.

"Nah, I've seen better," came the reply.

I was actually thrilled to see Effie Trinket when she led us away into the elevator.

"Well done, you two! Peeta, everyone is talking about you. And Katniss, it was a masterstroke to show your breasts to the world. What are you doing? Let your girls out!" Effie asks as I cross my arms over my chest.

"But I don't WANT people to see my boobs.." I explain, miserably, lowering my gaze to my bare feet.

"Maybe let her save that for her boyfriend?" Peeta suggested.

While I was happy at Peeta jumping to my defence, this wasn't the time to explain to him that Gale and I were just friends.

"It's up to you, Katniss," Effie replied, sweetly. "But why go commando if you're not going to flaunt it?"

As Effie gave us the tour of our apartment once the elevator arrived at the penthouse, I squeezed my thighs together, having been reminded by her that I wasn't wearing any underwear.

As soon as I was able, I lock myself in my room. Stripping off my skirt, I switch on the shower, and curl into a ball on the floor of the cubicle, allowing the warm water to wash the makeup and sweat off my body.

In their efforts to make me desirable to the audience, my team had immediately put me at a disadvantage to my fellow tributes. How was I supposed to face any of them, let alone kill them, when they knew what 95% of my body looked like?! They could surely tell how embarrassed I was about my nudity, they were bound to prey on that.

I only crawl out of the shower when I hear Effie knocking on my door, calling me to dinner.

I didn't think I'd have ever taken wearing a bra for granted. But it was only when I was fully dressed, and walking towards the dining room, that it occurs to me how discornting it was that the Capitol knew my precise dimensions.