At last, go home.

You start to make your walk home, sporting nothing beneath neither your skirt nor your shirt. You cross your arms over your best in hopes nobody can see your nipples poking through, but quickly push them down to the front of your skirt as soon as a hardy breeze nearly blows it right up. You can't cover both at the same time. One hand pulling down your skirt would do next to nothing.

You pass people on the street as you walk. Home is only a ten minute walk from here, but it feels already like an eternity as your mind nearly bursts with paranoia. At least it's better than the rubbing underwear, you guess.

As you walk by a young man and woman, you're almost certain the man's eyes lock onto your chest a strange amount. You look down once you've passed and realise your nipples are poking through. You curse your decision to wear a shirt that's at all tight. You can't keep this up. Whether it's your skirt or your shirt, you're going to have to decide what's more important to focus on.

On one hand, the skirt will only be a problem from wind. On the other, the shirt is likely always going to be a problem. For whatever reason, you can't un-excite your body enough to fix that.