Clara and a long, long time spent naked

"I-I'll stay here," the future Rose said. The present Rose squeaked. "I don't know how likely it is we'll run into each other again after we leave, I want to wait until I'm really ready."

"Even if you're waiting naked?" Clara teased.

Rose flushed. Still, mute, she nodded; Clara grinned and hopped to her feet.

"Well what are we waiting for? Let's go!" she declared.

She pulled off her nightshirt, apparently not particularly bothered being naked in front of Rose, and wandered off to the bedroom. She returned a handful of seconds later, adjusting her new top and pulling up a pair of jeans, while tossing a pair of shoes over to Rose.

Taking the implicit command, Rose slipped them on, cheeks warming now that they were her only garments.

She stood up, hesitating slightly, before awkwardly following Clara to the front door. Clara stepped back:

"You first," she said playfully.

Rose bit her lip, but did as she was told, opening the front door and awkwardly crossing one arm over her chest and the other moving to her pussy. It last almost a second before Clara shook her head.

"Not today, I think," Clara said. "Hands by your sides. Like when we first got here, is the anniversary after all."

Rose whimpered, but still acceded, suddenly baring everything to the street outside. She took an awkward step over the threshold, cheeks flaming anew now that she was visible to far, far more people than just Clara.

"Where are we going?" Rose said, voice shaking slightly. "Is it far?"

"We'll see," Clara said. She picked up the device she used to navigate the Land, tapping it a couple of times. "Ok, novels of the next century, should be that way. Then... Got it!"

She patted Rose's ass to spur her on. Then the two set off down the street, Clara leading the way as the nude Rose trailed after her, blushing furiously.

Whatever fiction they'd got the mansion from, it seemed to be on some wide open plane. A luxurious house, surrounded by open fields and sunny skies, somewhere tropical, which was no surprise as far as chosen homes went. It also had a lot of people at work in the fields, and wandering the dirt roads; that was definitely a feature Clara had chosen.

Rose kept her head down, but couldn't even cover with her arms. Apparently she hadn't lost the submissive genre over the past year.

The present Rose and Clara followed them, Clara taking in the surroundings as Rose bit her lip, unable to believe she'd end up choosing more humiliation.

"I can see myself living here," Clara said. "Maybe on and off. Imagine we've picked other homes out too. What do you think?"

Rose whimpered.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come strode alongside them. It lifted its cloak again, darkness swallowing them for just a second before they arrived at where the future Rose and Clara were bound. It was a little disappointing to miss the journey, but Clara could imagine what must have happened.

The future Rose still wore nothing but shoes, now walking through what seemed to be a quiet british village, the stars lighting up the sky and the streets lit by gas lamps. Clara kept glancing at her device, following it to a cottage in the distance.

Something small and pale orange stared up at them from the garden, before hurrying to cover. Clara lowered her scanner thoughtfully, before turning back to her flustered companion.

"Go knock on the door," Clara said. "Introduce us."

"O-ok," Rose said, flushing.

She stumbled closer, hesitating for a second as she faced the door. Going anywhere like this was always mortifying, but there was something uniquely embarrassing about exposing herself like this rather than just walking. Rose swallowed, feeling Clara's eyes on her ass, and knocked.

An old, white-haired man answered the door, then did a double take at the full-frontal view of the young blonde he got.

"I-I'm Rose," Rose said, bright red. "Th-this is Clara. She, uh, wanted to come here."

"Yep," Clara said. She beamed, talking from over Rose's shoulder and resting a hand on Rose's upper arms to gently keep her in full view. "Nicholas Flamel, right? Wondered if we could borrow some of that elixir of life you've been brewing up."

"You... want..." Nicholas began.

Rose yelped, eyes suddenly going wide.

"You see, we can't stay here for too long," Clara said. "We're both due out of here and we can't look too much older, but it's been a year already and I don't want to rush it, so if we could keep from aging while we're in here, that'll be great."

"You- you didn't say anything about-" Rose began, faltering as Clara smirked at her.

The present Rose squealed, nervously clutching her arms to herself a little more firmly, looking incredulously at the grinning present Clara.

"A lot of people want the philosopher's stone," Nicholas said.

"Oh, we don't want it," Clara said. "Just wanted to have a couple of sips, we're not witches so don't worry about us taking over the world or anything. But when you know someone who looks like Rose here, would you want to leave in a hurry?"

"You... have a point," Nicholas said slowly.

Rose whimpered. Clara rested an arm over her shoulders, bumping heads.

"Go on, say it," Clara said. "Tell the nice man you want me to keep you naked forever. Or at least a century or so. Some nice amount of time, so we can really explore this place."

Rose squeaked. Still, her genre ruled, wanting to do whatever Clara said, even enjoying doing it, even if it did make her blush more than she ever had in her life, and make her voice tremble.

"I- I want you to keep me stark naked for at least a hundred years," Rose said, and squeaked. "P-please."

Both Claras grinned; the present Rose stared incredulously as her future self was led into the house with the promise of staying in this place for much, much longer.

And she'd thought just one year of nudity was embarrasing...