A floral jumpsuit

While walking to the changing room, you peek inside the bag and see a mass of black and colorful fabric, but the bag feels heavier to contain only that.

Arriving inside the changing room, you take the fabric out of the bag and put it down. In your hands, you see it's a short floral jumpsuit, and you wince at the sight of it and imagining it on you.

But as you want to maintain good standing with Anna and Alicia and get a good grade at the end of your internship, you remove the T-shirt and the pants, folding them neatly on a chair, standing inside the changing room with just your boxer on you.

As you stood there, in front of the mirror, you take a good look at yourself. You're an 18-year guy; puberty never really hit you, so you're quite skinny, without a lot of muscular mass, your face's hairless and quite androgynous, on the rest of your body, you only have a few hairs. On your head sits a mass of chestnut shoulder-length hair.

You unbutton the whole length of the jumpsuit and start gliding your legs inside the jumpsuit; the tissue feels odd on them, continuing pulling it up to your torso. You pass the straps over your shoulders, fiddle with the lace at the back to tighten it. The sensations are a bit odd. The fabric is flowing, leaving with a sense of not wearing anything.

You turn around toward the mirror to see what you look like, in the mirror, the reflection you see is quite disturbing, you see an androgynous silhouette with long hair wearing the jumpsuit you put on. After realizing it's you, you concentrate on the detail; thanks to your lack of hairs, your legs look good; moving your eyes up, you see something that might be a bit problematic, your boxer peeking under the jumpsuit.