Skyclad Witches

Joanne and Margaret were two 20-somethings. They were dressed in matching denim shorts and shirts, Joanne wearing a leather headband that completed the "Flower Power" look they were both going for.

They were biking through the Appalachian Mountains, following the trail before pivoting into the woods, ignoring the various signs Forbidding people from entered under penalty of trespassing.

After ten minutes of cycling off-road, Margaret turned to Joanne.

"Are they watching?"

Joanne closed her eyes and focused, getting and extrasensory feeling of the area. She felt no cameras or drones or any other signs that they were being watched by the proper authorities.

"Nope. We're clear."

"Fucking finally. I'm stifling in these rags."

Joanne shivered a little, shaking off the glamour that coated her body. The clothes she was wearing transmuted back into the dead leaves from whence they were conjured from, leaving her completely naked. Margaret did the same.

Joanne and Margaret were New Age Witches. Actual, genuine ones who were raised in families that taught them how to harness the world around them to perform fantastical feats and comprehend what most people would find incomprehensible.

They were also raised with no sense of physical modesty. The human body was meant to be celebrated, not to be ashamed of. When they didn't perform rituals in skyclad, they would simply walk around completely naked. When they had to go out in public where "indecency" was a crime, they would use magic to pretend they were wearing clothes. Not that the glamours they wore weren't any less stifling.

Joanne and Margaret got back on their bikes, Margaret blushing a little when her bike-seat rubbed up against the delicate hairs of her muff, before they rode further into the forest terrain.