No, she's oblivious

Back in my room, I laid the box on my desk and grabbed my pajamas, a long black shirt and shorts, fresh out of the wash. That probably explained why they felt so itchy on my skin, but I ignored the feeling for the moment. Instead, I stared down at the box and thought. What was I going to do with this thing?

After reading the instructions and seeing most of the stickers it was obviously made by some kind of pervert, but how could I use that beyond mind controlling people into sex slaves. Yeah some people had that as their kink, but I found it too icky for my liking.

I brushed my hair while I thought on it, which was getting harder to do. The itching from my clothes seemed to be getting worse as I wore them, especially my shorts. They were an older pair, and while I certainly wasn't the curviest girl out there, freshman Taylor and senior Taylor were not the same size.

Obviously something had gone wrong in the wash and shrunk my shorts, because they were uncomfortably tight against my crotch, and no amount of squirming helped with my itching. I let out a sigh of annoyance and pulled them off and threw them in the 'clothes for donation' pile I had been building up for a few months now.

The relief that brought was enough to make me moan as I settled back in my chair. My shirt itched too, but the worst of it was gone. Thankfully I had other pajamas to wear.

That thought was interrupted by the sound of my dads truck pulling into the drive way. I glanced at the box again and shook my head; that line of reasoning was off the table, period.

I headed downstairs to meet dad as he walked inside. My shirt was easily long enough to cover anything indecent, and it wasn't the first time I'd gone commando in it or my night gown. As long as I didn't bend over at the waist like an idiot, I was fine. Now if only it wasn't so itchy!

Dad was tall and skinny, his hair starting to thin and his eyes large and watery, no doubt where I had gotten it from. Usually he didn't bring anything home from work, but today he had a toolbox with him. He also, unsurprisingly, looked tired as he walked in, but he managed a small but genuine smile when he saw me, "Hey kid, new outfit?"

"Funny," I rolled my eyes and gestured at the toolbox while scratching myself. "What's with the toolbox?"

He held it up, "I'm going to try my hand at tightening that leak behind the washing machine before I go to bed tonight. Someone at the office lent this to me."

Dad was no handy man, but working for years at a dock even as a union rep will let anyone pick up a few tricks. Whether or not he'd actually be able to fix the leaks, I wasn't sure; but he was trying, that was a good sign.

"Anyway, how was school?" dad asked as he walked by me. One of the wrenches slipped from the toolbox and clattered to the floor.

"I got it," I said and crouched to pick it up.

At that exact moment, a strong breeze from the still open front door came in and knocked me off balance. I slipped forward in an embarrassing heap on the floor, but I got the wrench!

"Stupid wind," I muttered as I got up and brushed myself off. It was then that I realized three things.

One, I was no longer itchy.

Two, my shirt was in a crumpled pile on the floor.

And three, I was now standing completely naked in the living room in front of the wide open front door. I never heard what dad said, I was up the stairs and in my room as fast as my naked ass could run.