This choice: You are only offered pink, girly clothes. • Go Back...Chapter #6You are only offered pink, girly clothes. by: Mr. George   The underwear, looks strangely intimidating. Both rather light and insignificant, but also alien and .... alien. The racks on both sides are filled with the lightest of things, your hands recoil even at the idea of reaching out and touching these ... these clothes.
An android curves out from between the racks, and stops directly in front of you, blocking your path. In it's hands there's a clothes hanger, dangling from which is some underwear.
You scowl at the faceless robot. You snatch the panties off the hanger. There's virtually nothing there, and as you pull them up your legs, they make you feel even more naked than you were. Grinding your teeth, you look askance at the bra. To go forward, you'll have to get dressed, and ... right now... that means these things.
You promise yourself, never to call Camille, and never EVER to answer her calls.
If you have to stay on campus and have no social life, you will avoid her totally. You can be the most boring Poli-Sci student ever.
But at the moment, right at this moment, it means putting on the pink bra.
You slide your arms into it, and reach to fasten it behind you. You groan, when you finally succeed in snapping the hooks into place. It's a terrible fit. It hangs loosely, your breasts are unsupported, and shift in place.
That doesn't remain the case for long. Soon the girls are growing in size, their weight pulling at your shoulders as they expand to fill the cups. The nipples.... Your nipples enjoy the stitching and you have to restrain yourself from cupping and squeezing your new, improved bust.
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"Come along now girl... Don't keep your mistress waiting." The robot's voice reminds you of a school teacher you recall, she was strict, high-handed, and fond of physical discipline.
Now you have some underwear on, the robot shifts aside, and you are free to move forward. As you walk forward, the robot keeps pace, by your side and slightly behind you.
You just accept the rest of the clothes that are offered without objection. Frankly you don't care how you look, you can always buy something more demure later.
You snort... demure ..., an adjective you thought would never apply to you.
Your outfit, is tight and enhances your body, but you try to convince yourself, that each item you put on is covering more skin, is protecting you from roaming eyes.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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