Marigold is to lay her secrets bare.

The glasses worked just as she expected: as she turned the power up, another layer of her cosplay disappeared.

Marigold blushed bright red and covered her eyes. Even though she was expecting it, she wasn't prepared to see herself like this in in public.

It's okay, she had to remind herself. It's okay, Mary. No one can see you like this... it's just you. Only you. You can still feel your clothes. You're not really naked.

After a minute of tight-chested breathing and near-fainting nervousness, she slowly lowered her hand. She only managed a single peek before she slammed her eyes shut.

Ever since she'd left her parents' house and gotten used to college, Marigold had slowly teased herself with the idea of wearing something that made her feel pretty. She couldn't wear anything in public, of course; she couldn't handle the stares. Instead, she could just wear it where no one else would see. No one could call dressing pretty "sinning" if no one knew about it, could they?

So seeing herself exposed like this was more than a little nerve-racking. If her parents, or her friends, or worse, her pastor saw her like this... they'd think she was a complete weirdo, or worse, a pervert.

Marigold's black long johns and shirt were gone, leaving her in just her closely-guarded underwear. She wore a heavy-duty compression vest to bind her breasts tight. With thick velcro straps over her shoulders, a sturdy zipper up the front, and fitted contouring cups to contain her breasts, Marigold had spared no expense in keeping her girls in line. Her bindings were often stifling, especially on hot summer days, but it was all worth it to hide her sinfully large breasts.

That wasn't the worst part, though. Not by far.

Her panties were spun from virginal white lace and more expensive than anything she'd ever worn, even for cosplay. Despite being gossamer-thin, the lace was intricately woven into impossibly detailed floral patterns of blooming white roses and lilies. Marigold's panties weren't just underwear; they were a masterwork of pure sexuality.

Marigold couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't bear to see herself as she was: curious and even a little eager about her sexuality, yet afraid to show any of it.