Vestiphobia

Chapter Twelve: Unworn

Rubber bounced off paving as Lisa ran across empty city streets under the cover of darkness, clutching a dead phone in her right hand. Apart from the black running shoes on her feet, she was entirely naked. The movement of her unsupported breasts and the feel of the breeze on her skin kept her quite conscious of this. Her dirty blonde hair streamed out behind her pale body, and her light blue eyes scanned the street ahead for trouble.

A couple of times, she had had to duck out of the way of oncoming cars, praying they wouldn't notice her. Her prayers had been answered, and she was making good progress towards her parents' house, where she would be able to charge Debra's phone and use it to contact Shelly. Then she could get out of this mess, hopefully without her parents knowing she'd even been there. The last thing she needed was to have to explain why their daughter had been engaged in a night-time city streak, or why she couldn't wear any of the clothes in her wardrobe.

As Lisa was coming up to the corner of a block, a massive clothesrack wheeled in front of her. With a short, sharp cry, she ran head-first into a wall of fabric.

"Hey! What the hell?" shouted a high-pitched, but recognizably male voice.

"My work! My precious work!" shouted another, very similar voice. "Please, be careful!"

The fabric burned against Lisa's skin, and she felt shockwaves all across her body. She had to bite her lip so as not to cry out. Desperate to escape the pain, she batted at the sleeves and tassels and other lengths of fabric that assaulted her, stumbling backwards.

The sensations diminished, and then dissipated. But as Lisa stumbled back, her heel caught on something, and she lost her balance. A shock went through her body as her ass hit the sidewalk.

"Here, let me help you," said the first voice, which seemed to be attached to a hand that protruded from the cufflinked sleeve of a rich purple suit.

Lisa took the hand and pulled herself up.

"Oh heavens, you're naked!"

The man who had helped Lisa up was an older gentleman wearing an ornate purple suit, complete with large hat. He was either a pimp or a fashion designer. Given the large number of outfits he appeared to be traveling with, Lisa was relieved to assume the latter.

A second man, dressed in a green suit that was of a different design but produced a similar effect, was busy smoothing out the clothes on the wheeled rack. He was about the same age as the man in purple, and may have been his brother. At the purple-suited man's exclamation, he glanced in Lisa's direction, looked her up and down, and returned to the clothing rack.

Being in the presence of such a well-dressed individuals made Lisa all the more conscious of her nudity. She blushed and awkwardly tried to cover herself with her arms. Neither of these men seemed particularly interested in looking at her body, and that just made it worse, somehow.

"Well," said the man in purple, "it would be remiss of me not to offer you something to wear, given the circumstances." He produced a tape measure from inside his suit jacket, and before Lisa could blink, it was around her waist.

"Yes," he muttered, quickly and dispassionately taking her measurements. "Wonderful, you'll be a perfect fit!"

The tape measure disappeared and Purple was standing in front of the clothing rack, holding up a mass of hot-pink ruffles. "Perhaps you'd like to try this little number?"

The man in green smirked. "If that were my design, I'd also be trying to get rid of it before the show."

"Oh hush!" snapped Purple. He then turned to Lisa with a syrupy smile, "Pay no attention to my colleague. This is one of my finest creations."