Midway through: Martha the shop assistant

She still didn't know how the Doctor had gotten her into this, but here she was.

He lived a charmingly oblivious life; he'd fallen into the colony's scientific staff, working to help better and refine the technology they used. From his enthusiastic rambling at the house they shared, it seemed to be going well.

She just wished that some days he'd stop talking so she could shut the door and finally, finally, get under her sheets and pretend she had some modicum of modesty.

Because during the day, she had to support the two of them. She wasn't particularly well-suited to any of the myriad jobs of the future; even the medical field was well beyond her, expecting her to be proficient in devices whose purpose she couldn't even guess at.

The Doctor - no, John Smith - was still on a trial period. As such he brought in no wages; she longed for the day he did and she could just never leave the house. Until then she had to cope with this world's nudity requirement.

The only job she'd been able to get had been at a shop. Stacking shelves, manning the till; surprisingly that much hadn't changed particularly in the last couple of hundred years. It was dull work, but it was easy.

It was also no less embarassing than anything else on this planet. Every day she had to get up, naked. Walk down the street, naked. Eat at the shared eating area, naked, because god forbid this world give her any privacy and have the means for residents to cook and eat at home. Then walk to work, naked. Stack shelves, naked. Stand behind the counter that didn't even quite hide her cunt, naked.

The first day she'd locked herself in the toilets until she could bear to be seen. She wasn't sure if it had gotten more bearable, or if she'd just grown accustomed to being utterly humiliated.

And that wasn't even getting started on how the locals thought it was a _compliment _to take a photo of a naked woman.

Oh, she was going to have words with the Doctor when he was back.

Until then...

She pushed a hovering trolley out, opting to work in one of the least busy aisles. She'd adjusted the trolley's altitude metre so that it was higher than most, able to casually conceal her tits and her pussy when she moved it around; she insisted it was easier to work with for her, that the last place she'd worked had them like that.

Not that she could hide behind it forever. Cheeks burning as they did every time, she had to move to the side of it, pulling cans and packets out and putting them on the shelves. She hurried, still feeling the people that passed her getting an eyeful of her chest.

She'd learnt quickly that the more flustered she seemed, the more attention she drew. It hadn't helped.

When she was done she pushed the trolley on, her ass out behind her.

"Ma'am?"

Martha turned, trying not to seem as embarassed as she was to be talking to a fully clothed stranger.

"May I just say that you have an exquisite behind?" he said. "May I?"

He lifted a future-equivalent of a camera-phone, and Martha's heart sank. The question was at best rhetorical; refusal was unheard of.

"Sure!" Martha said, giving her best fake customer-service smile, and trying not to whimper as the stranger moved behind her and took a photo of her exposed ass.