Vestiphobia (Complete)

[Dormouse]

I've been reading this on the Naked Fiction storyboard and commenting there, but reserving my full comments until the whole thing is finished, but I'm liking it so far.

[FinchAgent]

Chapter Six: Unfinished

When Shelly returned to the roof carrying the various items of clothing that Lisa had thrown off, she found that Debra and Claire had exchanged outfits. Claire now wore Debra's skirt, and Debra was as naked as Lisa.

"She's going to try it 'skyclad' this time," Claire said, taking her leggings from Shelly's arms. "Something about absorbing more of the moon's energy."

Shelly deposited the rest of the clothes on the ground, along with the few garments Lisa hadn't thrown off the roof. She glanced over at Debra and Lisa, who stood in the middle of the roof, hands clasped, eyes closed, deep in thought. Debra's thin, small body was different from Lisa's toned hourglass figure, and her coloring much lighter, making her appear almost like a dim reflection of vital, primordial Lisa. Nonetheless, both looked beautiful bathed in moonlight.

Debra opened her eyes and released Lisa's hands, stepping away from her. The other girl remained motionless, her arms staying out in front of her like a zombie's.

"I've put her in another trance," said Debra. "Trances are my best spell, honestly. Really useful for annoying younger siblings."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," said Claire. "Now what do we do? Please don't tell me you're going to try the same thing again!"

"No," replied Debra. "Despite my, uh... extra power... I don't think I could make that work." At the words "extra power", she gestured towards her nude body, blushing furiously. "God, I don't know how Lisa does this all the time. This is so weird!"

"Should we take off our clothes too?" asked Shelly, reminded of how uncomfortable Lisa had been around her at first.

Debra pondered this. "Well... let's see how much power I need for this next spell. I don't want to overload myself."

"Okay?" replied Shelly, not really understanding.

Debra turned to Lisa, who was still in zombie statue mode. "Okay," she said, taking a deep breath in and out. "If I'm going to break this curse, it would probably help to actually know something about the circumstances in which it was cast. Recall magic was never my strong suit, but here goes!"

Debra's face contorted into ugly shapes as she spoke the words of the recall spell. As the spell advanced, she began to move her body, stepping backward and forward, then grounding herself in a warrior's pose, then raising her arms above her head, and then, with a final yell, pointing her arms directly at Lisa.

Nothing happened.

Debra's chest rose and fell with her panting, and she tried her final move again. Again, nothing happened. Lisa remained as still as before.

Debra stood up straight again. "Ugh, I wish I'd practiced this spell more. I'm afraid I was always more interested in getting people to do embarrassing things than in getting them to remember stuff."

"Don't tell me you can't do it..." said Shelly. After everything they'd endured tonight, this would be a disappointing conclusion.

Debra set her face in determination. "I just need some more power. That's how it goes with spells I don't know well. Trance and mind control I can do without even moving much, but for this we need a bunch of nude dancing to kick it off. Claire, get over here."

Claire rushed over to her friend's side.

"Get that skirt off and put your hand on my shoulder. I need a bit more surface area."

Reluctantly, Claire hiked her borrowed skirt down, exposing her firm ass to the night air once more. She put her hand on Debra's left shoulder.

"That's more like it," Debra said, a fire lighting in her eyes. "Now let's do some recall."

Debra repeated her performance, with Claire's hand firmly clasped over her shoulder the whole time. At the final utterance, a spark jumped from her fingers to Lisa's chest. The zombie statue became animate at once, and started running around in circles.

"Ha ha ha ha, you can't catch me, you can't catch me!" shouted Lisa, her body bouncing joyfully as she pranced around the roof.

"Come on now, young lady," said Debra sternly, following Lisa at a slower pace, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. "Don't you want to put on your nice pink dress?"

"No no no!" Lisa screeched, increasing her pace.

Shelly looked at Claire quizzically. "What's going on now?"

Claire shrugged.

At this point, Lisa was running in tighter and tighter circles around Debra, who stood in a sighing slump. Eventually, Debra reached out a hand and grabbed Lisa by the ear.

"Ow ow ow!" shouted Lisa. "You're hurting me!"

"You are going to put on your dress, young lady, whether you want to or not." Debra was already dragging Lisa to the pile of clothes, where she grabbed the olive dress with her free hand.

Lisa cowered and whimpered as the shorter girl hoisted the dress over her head and pulled it down.

"Arms through!" Debra shouted.

Lisa meekly complied, though by this time her whimpers had turned into full-blown wails.

The dress came all down, and naked Debra took a step back, putting her hands on her hips and smiling wearily at her handiwork. "There we are, all ready for Cindy's birthday party. Now, now, dry your eyes. You look very pretty, sweetheart."

Lisa sat down on the floor in a sulk, still sniffing.

"Now, let's get going," said Debra. She started patting her legs. "Where did I put those... wait, where are my... whoa..."

Then a change came over both girls. Lisa's sniffing stopped, and she straightened up and looked at Debra in confusion. Debra dropped her arms to her side and shivered with her whole body.

"What the hell was all that about?" Claire asked.

"This is why I don't like recall magic," said Debra. "It brings past events to life, using the people nearby as actors. You feel like you're being possessed by something when it happens. Like, you can look out at things, but you have no control over your body." Debra shivered again.

"Surprise, surprise, Debra doesn't like her own medicine," Lisa said wryly. "It was different for me. Kind of... nostalgic, really. Although I've really tried to forget about that particular incident."

"Incident?" asked Shelly.

Lisa sighed. "My mom likes to embarrass me by telling the story about my nudist phase. It was like a week in preschool when I didn't want to wear clothes for some reason. I always told myself she made it up, or was exaggerating, but I guess Debra's just confirmed that it actually did happen."

"It was very exasperating for your mother, let me tell you," said Debra. "I can't remember the last time I felt that annoyed."

Lisa fidgeted with the fabric of her dress. "Was that when I was, uh, cursed?"

"I don't think so," replied Debra. "I've never heard of a curse that works for a week and then comes back after more than a decade. This was just an incident from your past that made the curse easier for the caster. She must be quite an experienced witch to do something so sophisticated. And you must have really pissed her off."

"I wish I knew how!" Lisa's voice was muffled through the fabric of her dress, which was already half-way off. "I can't ever remember meeting a witch before."

"It's okay, my next recall spell will remember it for you. But I'm going to need a bit more power for this one. Claire, lose your top as well. Shelly, time to get naked."

Claire pulled off her tank-top, under which she was not wearing a bra. Her breasts were small, but firm like the rest of her body. "Let's get this over with," she said, resisting the urge to put her arms across her chest.

Shelly blushed deeply as she removed the blue dress she was wearing. She was acutely aware of the eyes of the other three girls as the dress came over her head and she stood, nervous, in just her underwear. She blushed and bit her lip.

The other three were fully naked, Lisa was unable to wear anything for more than ten minutes, and here she was feeling bashful about her modest underthings. This, after all four of them had been streaking together. Get a grip, Shelly, she told herself, before reaching shaking hands up to the clasp of her bra.

All six eyes were rivetted as Shelly's ample bust dropped from its confinement. She felt a momentary pride in this, and this was enough to push her through to removing her panties, which soon fell about her ankles. The appearance of her dark, thick bush also brought about some stares, but these were shorter and more discrete. Lisa and Debra both had trimmed landing strips, and Claire was fully shaved.

Lisa walked up to Shelly and put a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for doing this for me." Then she turned to Debra and Claire. "And thank you as well. Hopefully, once this is over, we can all get dressed."

"That's the plan," replied Debra, flashing a winning smile. "Claire to my right, Shelly to my left. Lisa, stay right where you are. Let's recall."

Debra muttered a quick trance spell while Claire and Shelly were still getting into position, and Lisa froze up once again. Then, with the other girls' hands on her back, she took a strong, grounded stance, and prepared to cast a second, stronger recall spell. "The witch who cursed Lisa has definitely put some wards around the moment of the curse. That's why we only got a related memory last time."

Shelly tightened her grip on Debra's shoulder. Claire did the same.

Debra smiled. "With all of us skyclad under this full moon, I can feel a power like I've never felt before. Let's go!"

Once more, Debra spoke the inhuman incantation and moved through the physical motions of the spell. On the final step, three sparks shot out of her finger tips and hit Lisa directly in the stomach. For a moment, Lisa's whole body appeared to glow, and then a wave of light exploded outward from her.

The wave of light felt like a physical shock-wave. Shelly lost her grip on Debra's shoulder and stumbled backwards, tripping and landing on the roof. She winced as her bare bottom hit the rough floor.

In front of her, the recall scene was now playing out.

Lisa strode casually across the roof, approaching the pile of discarded clothes, which had grown quite large with the full outfits of Shelly, Claire and Debra, as well as Lisa's two outfits. She looked one way and then the other. Then, biting her lip, she knelt down and gingerly picked up an item of clothing. It was Shelly's bra.

Lisa straightened up, and then once again looked both ways. Then, with a quick, furtive movement, she wrapped the bra's straps around her stomach and tied them at the back. Looking completely ridiculous, she straightened up, turned on her heels, and strode off again, to the other side of the roof.

As Lisa walked away, Debra slowly walked towards the pile of clothes, approaching it from the opposite direction. There was a scowl on her face and her eyes were fixed on Lisa. When she reached the pile, she stopped and looked down. The scowl deepened.

Debra made her spell-casting face again, reaching a hand out towards Lisa. But this time, instead of making loud, guttural noises with her mouth, her lips moved silently. When she was finished, she lowered her hand.

Lisa, on the other side of the roof, stopped briefly, and a visible shudder crossed her body. But she quickly regained control of herself, and approached Claire.

"It's done," she said, untying the bra straps from behind her. "I got that top you wanted." Lisa held the bra by the strap, dangling it from two fingers like it was something dirty.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" replied Claire, snatching the bra from Lisa. A very un-Claire-like prissy expression clouded her features.

Lisa looked down at the ground and rubbed her foot nervously against the back of her calf.

"I asked you a question, bitch," spat Claire.

"N-no ma'am," Lisa stammered. "I-it was fine. Easy."

Claire grinned smugly and folded her arms across her chest. "Good, that's what I like to hear. You've done as I asked, so you can come to the party Friday."

"Th-thank you," said Lisa.

"Don't get any sudden pangs of conscious or anything, okay? Remember, I'll deny everything."

"I won't."

"Good. See you Friday. Shoplifter." Claire turned her nose up and minced off, hips swaying, bra in hand. Then, she suddenly stopped and looked down. Her eyes widened. "Hey, why am I—"

At this, the spell broke. Debra, Claire and Lisa wobbled on their feet as they regained immediate control of their bodies.

"Oh my god!" cried Shelly, springing to her feet. "That's it! You've done it Debra!" Taking only a brief moment to brush the dust off her bare bottom, she bounced towards the young witch, who was still looking unsteady on her feet.

"I did?" asked Debra groggily.

"Yes!" Shelly affirmed, blushing as every part of her body seemed to jiggle in excitement. "The person who you were acting as! That must be the witch. I guess she owns a clothing store? That Lisa shoplifted from? Oh wow, it makes so much sense!"

Claire and Lisa had approached the other two, and now all four girls were standing around the pile of clothes. Claire discretely dropped Shelly's bra back onto the pile.

Lisa rubbed the back of her neck. "I was so worried that that theft would come back to bite me, and I guess it did. Just not in the way I expected. Stephanie's stupid party wasn't even worth it." She sighed deeply.

"I can understand being mad about having stuff stolen from you, but this curse seems a bit disproportionate," Shelly said.

"I guess it would stop most people from stealing clothes though," Debra added.

Everyone glared at her.

"I'm just saying! Witches gotta do what they gotta do sometimes, don't they?"

"Well, I think Lisa has more than learned her lesson by now," said Shelly.

Lisa nodded vigorously. Then, looking up at the sky, "I'm sorry Ms. Witch-Lady, it was wrong for me to steal from you. I'll never steal another item of clothing as long as I live!" Tears were starting to form in her eyes. "All I want... is to stop being naked all the time."

There was a moment of silence. Then Claire spoke up, looking towards Debra. "Well, now that you know about the curse, can you break it?"

Debra looked away from the other girls. It was just for a moment, but it was enough to sink all of their hopes. Lisa opened her mouth, but words couldn't escape her throat. Had all of this been for nothing?

"I... I don't know," Debra stammered. "I felt the witch embody me and cast the spell, but it wasn't quite... complete. I think Lisa was too far from the witch to really hear what she was saying, so it didn't come through properly in the recall spell."

There was another long silence.

"It felt like a very complicated curse," Debra continued. "One part of it, the part of it I recognized, involved that memory of Lisa's, from when she was a child. The witch took the discomfort she'd felt in her clothes back then, and planted it, like a seed in Lisa's soul. The seed sprouted, and grew, and then, well... you know the rest."

Lisa looked forlornly at the pile of clothes.

"And it's still growing," Debra continued. "She didn't put any limits on the curse, as far as I could tell."

"What does that mean?" asked Lisa.

Debra broke eye contract with her before replying. "It means that eventually you won't be able to wear clothes at all."

"I see," Lisa said coldly.

Claire grabbed Debra by the forearm. "Okay, Debra, you know all this, so why can't you break the curse? That's what you brought us up here to do in the first place, right?"

Debra shook off Claire's grip. "There were... other parts of it. Parts of it I couldn't figure out. Incantations I've never heard before. And you can't break curses piece by piece. I tried to do that earlier, because I thought I knew better. But I was wrong. Curses have to be broken all at once."

"Could we try it again?" Lisa asked. "The recall spell, I mean. Maybe if it had more power..."

Debra raised an eyebrow. "We're all butt naked. And the moon is going to go down soon. There's nowhere I can get more power from."

As the other three girls argued, Shelly held her chin in her hand, deep in thought. There had to be a way to solve this problem. A scientific answer. Science applied to magic, as ridiculous as that sounded.

Then she had it.

"Hey, Debra," Shelly said. The other girls stopped their arguing and turned to face her. "How's your cursing?"

Debra looked puzzled. "Uh, probably my best magic. That and trances. What can I say, I'm a bit of a bitch. But I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Shelly smiled slyly. "A curse can be anything, right? Like, it doesn't have to be bad, does it?"

"Yeah, I guess," replied Debra. "I could curse you to have a nice day. There was a witch who worked as a supermarket cashier who used to do that to everyone."

Shelly's grin widened. "Great, then why not try cursing Lisa with the opposite of the other witch's curse?"

"You mean make her feel really uncomfortable when she's naked?" asked Claire.

"I already do!" Lisa snapped.

"No, no, not that. Definitely not that. That would be torture! You should curse Lisa to feel really good when she'd wearing clothes! That way, you'd cancel out the effects of the other curse—at least the ones we know about—and she'd go back to normal!"

Debra cocked her head. "I dunno, it's a bit vague. Vague doesn't really work so well with curses. That supermarket witch I told you about? Her curse just made people a little bit happier for the following hour. If I cursed Lisa to feel good in her clothes, well, maybe that would buy her an extra ten minutes in that awful dress, but I don't see it making a big difference."

Shelly's brow knitted. "Okay, then let's be specific. Lisa's symptoms are feeling hot and feeling claustrophobic. So you should curse her to feel cold and agoraphobic."

"Agoraphobic?" asked Claire.

"Fear of wide open spaces."

Debra narrowed her eyes, and the girls were silent for a long minute as she pondered the idea. Then, finally, she smiled. "Shelly, you're a genius!"

Lisa clapped her hands and jumped for joy. "I'm going to get dressed again!"

"You betcha," said Debra. "Okay girls, hands on my back again. This is going to take a lot of power. Lisa, get ready to be cursed."

The girls all got in position, and Debra recited another spell. This time, no spark erupted from her fingertips. Instead, a dark cloud formed around her as she spoke the incantation, and when she finished, it slowly drifted towards Lisa, engulfing her, and then immediately dissipating.

"How do you feel, Lis?" asked Shelly.

Lisa looked down at her body and shrugged. "The same. But let's see how clothes feel."

On slow, hesitant feet, Lisa crept towards the pile of discarded clothing. She crouched down and picked up the olive dress.

"No," said Debra. "Let's test it with your real outfit."

Lisa gulped. The last time she could remember trying to put on a pair of panties, she'd almost vomited all over Shelly. The most recent time she'd put on panties, which she couldn't remember but had been told about, she'd ended up forcibly stripping her friends. But this time would be different. So long as Debra's curse had worked.

Lisa rummaged through the clothes and found her black panties. She held them up to the moonlight, savoring the texture of the fabric. It had been a long time.

Then, with one last look back at her friends, she took the plunge. One leg at a time, she stepped into the panties, and then slowly, carefully, pulled them up to her crotch. The waistband snapped loudly against her skin, and she pulled her hands away.

A tense moment passed.

Lisa felt...

She felt...

She felt fine.

She gave a thumbs up to her friends, and then, with shaking arms, fished through the pile for her bra. She put it on, and her breasts felt support and stability for the first time in weeks. Once the clasp was in place, she shook her chest in triumph.

Already now, wearing a full set of underwear, she felt wonderfully, luxuriously, modestly clothed. No more jiggling boobs, no pussy on display, the wonderful feeling of soft cotton on her ass. But she couldn't stop here. Hurriedly, greedily, Lisa pulled on her jeans, and then her top, and then her sweater, which was a bit dirty from its trip off the edge of the roof. Intoxicated by the sensations of it all, she pulled on her socks and boots, and was at last gloriously, beautifully clothed.

She looked over at her naked friends, who were all smiling back at her, and whooped triumphantly, pumping her fist in the air. The friends come together again in a group hug, flesh against fabric.

"Thank you Debra! Thank you Claire! Thank you Shelly!" Lisa cried between tears. "I can finally be a normal student again, and it's all thanks to you! All of you are the best friends a girl could ever... could ever..."

At this, Lisa broke down sobbing. Shelly patted her on the back as the hug slowly disentangled. Claire and Debra made their way towards the pile, and pulled on their own clothes.

Clothed Lisa hugged naked Shelly and kissed the top of her head. "Thank you for never giving up on me."

"You're welcome."

Then, Shelly pulled on her underwear and her dress, and all four girls were fully clothed. The only item of clothing that remained in the erstwhile pile was the ugly, too-big olive green dress.

Lisa picked it up and held it out in front of her. Her expression was a complex tapestry. She was grateful that there had been something she had been able to wear, and that this dress had been there for her and for Shelly. But it really was hideous and unflattering. And more than anything else, it reminded her of her nudity. She remembered nothing so strongly of that dress as the many times she had taken it off.

So Lisa scrunched the dress up into a tight olive green ball, put it in her right hand, pulled her arm back, and lobbed it off the roof. "Good riddance!" she yelled.

Their business concluded, the four girls headed towards the door, with Shelly producing the key. The moon had disappeared, and soon it would be morning. Lisa looked forward to lectures.

If anyone had been watching the fire escape staircase that night, they would have seen four girls descending. One, a small blonde in a pink shirt and purple skirt, seemed to have smoke rising from her ears. Another, a muscular brunette, had some holes in her yoga pants. A third, round and buxom brunette, kept looking at the fourth, smiling, and squeezing her arm.

And the fourth, a young woman with dirty blonde hair, slightly overdressed for that warm night, kept absently fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

To be continued...

[FinchAgent]

Chapter Seven: Unable

Lisa was late for class. Her Classics lecture was going to start in five minutes, and she was on the other side of campus. She had been chatting with some new friends she'd met in Linguistics during her free period, and had completely lost track of time, until Kevin mentioned he needed to get going if he was going to make his Math lecture, which was in a much closer hall.

After waving a quick goodbye to Kevin, Julie and Sasha, Lisa walked briskly in the direction of the Classics hall, soon breaking into a jog. After having missed so many lectures at the beginning of the semester, she was determined to have a complete attendance record for what remained. And her Classics professor liked to lock the doors right after starting.

Lisa ignored the looks she got from other students as her sneakers bounced off asphalt. Unlike the last time she'd run across campus, she was fully clothed, so they could stare all they wanted. After everything she'd been through, there was slim chance she'd ever feel embarrassed while fully dressed again.

Her mind was hard at work, figuring out the best route to get to the lecture hall. At this pace, she still wouldn't make it if she ran along the road. But there was a shortcut, if she took a secret route through the campus botanical gardens. That was it.

Asphalt gave way to grass, and soon she was standing in front of the wire fence that surrounded the gardens. The original planner had been an eccentric academic, with some pet theory that made him insist that gardens be experienced along a specific path, and so he had a wall built around the whole thing, with only one entrance and exit. The legend went that he originally wanted it built out of solid stone and at least seven feet high, but all the college could fund was a five foot chickenwire fence, prone to breakages.

Lisa had come across one such breakage a few days ago, and now lifted and slipped under it. But as she continued forward, she felt a snag. Looking back, she noticed that her top was caught on a protruding wire.

Even though she was still in a hurry, Lisa slowly, carefully stepped back and then carefully disentangled the wire. There was no sense in destroying the clothes she had waited so long to wear. Just imagine the irony of losing her top like this, after she had been cured!

The wire came loose with a few seconds of worrying, leaving only a small pinprick in her top, barely large enough to see.

Lisa made her way through trees and bushes to the official path, and then continued her dash. She jogged down the winding cobblestone path, taking no time to admire the trees and flowers around her, but noting that the whole place seemed a bit wild. She'd only been inside once before, and if she hadn't known that there was only one path through it, she probably would not have considered it a shortcut. Luckily, the lecture hall was close to the official exit of the botanical gardens, so she wouldn't need to find another break in the fence.

As she ran, she felt a vibration in the back pocket of her jeans. Someone was calling her. Exasperated, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket. The name Debra Sorrenti appeared on the screen.

Debra had been saying something to her a couple of days ago about the counter-curse being temporary, or the original curse being more powerful, but she'd sounded really unsure of herself, and kept throwing in maybes and possiblies. Lisa was grateful to her, of course, but the more she learned about Debra's secret, the less confidence she had in the witch's actual understanding of the magic she used.

It had been a full two weeks since that night on the roof, and Lisa was showing no signs of rebound. Debra agreed that that was a positive sign, and that anything that happened would happen gradually, like the original onset of Lisa's condition. Lisa had agreed that as soon as a shoe felt too tight, or a bra started burning her, she'd come see Debra immediately.

But Lisa had felt fully comfortable in every item of clothing she'd worn for weeks. She and Shelly had celebrated the cure by experimenting with how many clothes she could put on, and she had triumphantly padded up in half her wardrobe before feeling a pretty normal amount of heat and tightness.

Even now, Lisa was wearing a long-sleeved, fitted button-up top, tight jeans and boots, and feeling perfectly fine, if a little hot and sweaty from this running. She felt better if she was overdressed these days. Maybe she'd try out some shorts in a few weeks.

Lisa put the phone to her ear. "Hi Debra," she said between breaths. "What's up?"

There was a brief silence on the line, and then a cracking voice came through. "Lisa, listen, we've gotta meet up. Urgently. You have to get to my dorm. Right now."

Lisa's heart stopped. "Why? What's happened?"

"N-nothing. Nothing yet. But it will! Listen, I've been doing some reading, and I think I was wrong before. We don't have much time."

The botanical garden exit was in sight, and there were still a few minutes to go before the lecture started. Lisa stood for a moment, contemplating her options. She had half a mind to put the phone down and keep going. She was fine. She felt great! She looked down at her top and pinched its fabric between two fingers, drawing it back and releasing. Still fine.

"Lisa? Are you there?" came a distant voice from the phone, which was hanging by her side. "Please hurry!"

She may have been feeling fine, but Lisa knew better than to tempt fate. She imagined herself tearing off her clothes in desperation right in the middle of the Classics lecture. Old Professor Jameson's eyes would pop out of his head! Actually, it might literally kill him. Not to mention give her a reputation as a crazy stripper, all across campus. It was bad enough seeing the occasional blurry, poorly lit photo of the infamous Owl Mask Streaker dancing at the Freshers Streak after party.

Lisa pulled the phone back up to her ear. "On my way." She hung up, spun on her heels, and took off in the opposite direction, back towards the break in the fence. She could feel heat rising to her cheeks. Maybe she was just hot from running, or maybe Debra's counter curse was busy failing.

Starting to panic now, Lisa turned from the cobblestone path she'd been on and ducked under a tree branch, heading directly for the break in the fence. Hair fell about her face as she raced, dodging trees and stomping on flowers. She'd be in massive trouble if they ever caught her, but that paled in comparison to the alternative.

There it was—the gap in the fence! Lisa ducked under a last tree branch, but her foot caught on sometime, and she fell. Down, down, down. Her foot was caught in a root! She struggled to dislodge it, got up again, and dashed forward. But where was the fence? It had been right there...

Lisa doubled over with sudden nausea. She felt a familiar tightness, but it was worse now than it had ever been before. It was as though she was being crushed in an avalanche of sheets. She pulled violently at her top, popping off the top button.

Then everything went black.

* * *

A shallow stream wound through the botanical garden, charting a course much different from the official path. It grew to its widest near the center of the garden, in a particularly overgrown patch. On that particular day, shortly after the start of the third morning lecture period, a pair of small, delicate feet dangled off the bank, with the weak current lapping over them.

Those feet belonged to a sleeping female student, lost in the garden. They were clean, with cute pink toes, spread wide from a lot of time barefoot. They connected to a pair of strong, slender white legs, which met in a wide, firm, and completely bare ass, and continued up in a bare back, and a mass of dirty blonde hair.

Lisa awoke with a start. She could feel water lapping at her feet, and the breezing whipping across the bare skin of her legs, ass and back. The grass tickled her boobs and tummy. She was naked once more.

"Ow!" she said as she pinched herself. "Not a dream. Didn't think so. Where am I?"

Lisa groaned as she raised herself up on her arms and shakily stood up, pulling her feet from the stream and now feeling the unwelcome breeze across her front. She was still in the garden, but deeper in. She remembered rushing for the fence, tripping, getting back up, and nothing after that. Well, nothing coherent. A crushing sensation. The sudden return of her hated symptoms. The revenge of the witch's curse.

How long had she been out? She had no watch to tell the time, and her phone was nowhere in sight. Neither, for that matter, were her clothes, or her book-bag. All around her were trees, flowers and birds.

Well that's just great, she thought. Her clothes had to be around there somewhere, but probably not in a neat pile. She narrowed her eyes and scanned the area.

There! On the end of a tree branch, something white. Lisa darted towards it and took a closer look.

It was one of her socks. Well, that was a start, at least. She reached out to grab it.

As Lisa's hand touched the sock, a jolt of electricity shot down her arm. She yelped and stumbled back, tripping over another root. Waving her arms in the air in a futile attempt to maintain her balance, she plomped down, butt first. Mud splashed all around her.

Lisa groaned as she picked herself up. Now she was dirty, on top of everything else. But at least there was a stream here. She stepped into the cool, shallow water and squatted to let the current wash the mud off her ass.

There was a rustle in the bushes. Lisa's eyes locked onto the source of the noise. A voice said, "Hey, is this your—oh!"

For an awful long moment, Lisa held eye contact with the boy who had just stepped into view. A sheepish, gangly student with green eyes and a mop of brown hair. He wore baggy cargo pants and a graphic T-shirt with a band logo Lisa didn't recognize, under an open flannel shirt that looked a few sizes too big. In his right hand, he held a dirty white piece of ragged fabric. His jaw looked about ready to hit the ground.

And it was no wonder—here was Lisa, squatting naked in the stream, arms dangling at her sides, legs wide. She blushed furiously as she straightened up and moved to cover herself.

"Sorry!" the boy squeaked, slapping his free hand in front of his eyes. "I found this, and I heard your voice, and I... I..." He held out the ragged piece of fabric in front of him. "Y-yours?"

Lisa examined the fabric and realized with horror that it was her top, torn in two places and covered in dirt. What had happened while she was out?

Still, a torn, dirty top was better than none. "Y-yes, it's mine," she replied, forcing the words through a dry throat. She stepped forward. The boy dutifully turned his face away, hand still firmly in front of his eyes.

As the initial shock receded, Lisa felt another emotion: indignation. She'd seen this kind of scene in too many movies. "You shouldn't disturb girls bathing in the woods, you know! Or steal their clothes!"

"This is a... garden?" the boy replied, confused. "And I wasn't... I mean... uh..."

Lisa softened, and then immediately felt bad. The boy was clearly just trying to help her. "I'm sorry," she said, reaching for her top. "I appreciate the—ow!"

At the touch of fabric, another electric jolt ran down Lisa's arm. This one didn't make her lose her balance, but she immediately withdrew her harm from the fabric and shook her arm thoroughly. What was going on with her?

"You okay?" the boy asked, still standing with his arm outstretched.

"Yeah," Lisa lied. She reached for the top again, and immediately drew her hand back. "Ow! Fuck!"

"Are you sure you're okay? Do you need any help?"

"With what?!" Lisa snapped.

"I dunno, you keep saying 'ow'."

"It's just, um..."

"Are you, uh, going to take this?" The boy waved his arm up and down.

Lisa had, by now, thoroughly proven to herself that she was in no way capable of taking the top from him. After two weeks of normal, clothed life, the curse was back with a vengeance, worse than it had ever been before. If only she'd gotten to Debra in time! Now she was naked in the middle of the botanical garden, with no phone, and this random guy.

Her phone! "Did you see anything else, other than that top?" she asked. "Like, uh, some other clothes, or a book-bag, or maybe a phone?"

"Nope, it was just this. Lying in the dirt." The boy mused for a bit. "I did think it was a bit strange."

"Someone must have stolen my clothes!" Lisa cried, feigning shock.

"Oh no!" the boy said. "At least they left you this top, though."

"Yeah..." Lisa looked at the white top, which was now trailing the ground, as the boy had gotten tired of holding his arm up. She didn't want to touch it again.

The boy half-heartedly lifted the top back up to her. "So, uh, you... ready to get dressed yet? Are you dry now?"

Lisa breathed a sigh of relief. He'd thought she was waiting to dry off from being the stream before she put her top on. Not that she was weird. Well, no, he probably thought that she was pretty weird for skinny dipping in the botanical gardens. But no weirder than that.

Lisa put a hand on her butt. It was basically dry. But she still couldn't take the top from him. Maybe she should just ask him to put it down on a rock and go. Then she would have some peace, and be able to search for the rest of her things. Most importantly her phone. She briefly contemplated asking to borrow the boy's phone to call one of her friends, but the only number she knew by heart was her mom's. And that definitely wasn't a call she was going to make right now!

Just as Lisa opened her mouth to ask the boy to leave, she heard the sound of drums in the distance.

"Oh, the drumming club's about to get here," said the boy. "They usually meet in this part of the gardens. I was actually—say, are you part of the club?"

The blood drained out of Lisa's face. "No," she said sharply. "And I do not need anyone to see me like this!"

The boy held up the top again. Lisa sighed deeply. She'd been just about to get rid of this guy and figure things out on her own. But now, unless she wanted to parade herself for the drummers, it looked like she would need his help. And that meant she would need to let him know that she wasn't going to be putting that top on anytime soon.

Lisa squeezed the bridge of her nose between her fingers, and then sighed again, shoulders slumping. "Look, uh... actually, what's you're name?"

"Colin," replied the boy.

"Look, Colin, I'm in a bit of tricky situation here and I'm going to need your help," she said, resisting the urge to grind her teeth. "I'm Lisa by the way."

Colin perked up at once, holding the top aloft like a flag. "Sure, anything!"

Lisa smiled. "Okay, so it's like this. I need to get to my friend in the Usman dorm. And, for, uh, reasons, I can't wear any clothes. It's like... an illness that I have. So I'm going to need you to put that top in your bag, and then help me get to Usman without being spotted. I'll walk behind you and stay hidden, and you'll tell me when the coast is clear, okay?"

Colin stood rooted to the spot. From the way he was squirming, Lisa surmised that his pants were probably feeling a bit tight. She wondered if this was the first time he'd seen a naked woman in real life. Slowly, the fingers over his face started to spread out, and the grip of his hand relaxed.

"No peeking!" Lisa snapped, and the fingers obediently came together again.

The drums were getting louder.

"That's going to be... a bit difficult," said Colin.

He had a point, Lisa supposed. She filed it away for further consideration.

"But I'll do it. Help you, I mean! Not peek! We can use the tunnels."

Lisa had heard about the tunnels before. An underground network that connected most of campus, built during a more paranoid time. She'd thought they were just a rumor. But if they were real, and this Colin guy knew where they were, that could save a lot of time and embarrassment.

"Let's get out of here before these drummers arrive, okay. Do you know where the break in the fence is?"

"Which one?" asked Colin. "We're pretty close to one of them, actually."

Along with the drums, Lisa could now hear murmuring voices. "Doesn't matter! Lead the way, I'm right behind you."

"Roger that!" Colin turned around, stuffed the top into his backpack, and darted into the trees. Lisa followed in a low crouch, arms crossed over her chest, hoping she had made the right decision.

To be continued...

[FinchAgent]

Chapter Eight: Undetected

Colin led Lisa on a winding path through the trees and up to another break in the fence, looking over his shoulder every now and then to ensure she was keeping up. Lisa maintained her crouch, kept her arms firmly crossed over her breasts, and gave him a withering look every time his gaze lingered slightly too long.

"We're here," he said, indicating a large hole in the chickenwire, bigger than the one Lisa had initially come through. Lisa stood just behind him, willing him not to turn around or look back again.

"Ladies fir—" Colin started, then blushed as he realized what he was saying.

"Nice try," Lisa replied. "Go through and make sure there's no-one around. If it's all clear, give me the okay symbol."

Colin obediently crouched down and slid through the hole in the fence. He took a few paces out of the garden, toward the road. Lisa watched as he turned his head one way and then the other, and then signalled that it was clear for her to proceed. All without looking behind him. He was learning.

After taking a deep breath, Lisa resumed her crouch and passed through the hole in the fence. Up until now, she had been trekking through dense foliage, which, while treacherously slow-going, afforded her a lot of coverage. Outside of the garden, that would change. With Colin's help, she may avoid being seen, but she'd need to dart between coverings, which could end up being massively far apart. For now, she hid behind a bush on the other side of the fence.

"I'm through," she said in a harsh whisper. "Come here, we need to figure out the next part."

Colin walked over to the bush, a thick, tall plant that did an admirable job of covering Lisa. Only her head and shoulders were visible above it. Still, she could see Colin's eyes dart between her face and the flesh of her upper torso.

"The closest entrance to the tunnels is through the Fine Arts building," Colin said, locking eye contact with Lisa. He checked his watch. "We're in the middle of a lecture period, so it ought to be quiet outside. But it's going to be a bit of a walk."

Lisa hadn't been to the Fine Arts building before. Having only been able to walk around campus with clothes on for about three weeks total this semester, there was a lot she hadn't seen.

Colin checked both sides of the road. "Someone's coming!" he hissed.

Lisa dived down and crouched behind the bush. There was the sound of an engine as a car passed.

Moments later, Colin said, "It's gone now. There's no-one else. We should go."

He was right. Lisa straighted up and stared straight ahead, across the road. Her eyes locked on a couple of trashcans against the wall of a building on the other side. But between the bush she was hiding behind and those trashcans was a long, empty expanse of grass, sidewalk and road, with nowhere to hide.

"I-I'm going to make a run for those trashcans," she said to Colin, hardly believing herself. "Go stand by them and give me the signal if it's still clear when you get there. Then close your eyes until I tell you to open them again."

Colin nodded and started walking. He crossed the road at a brisk pace, clearly energized by the excitement of it all. Lisa was thankful that he hadn't asked too many questions, and had just gone along with her story, which much have sounded crazy. But then, she knew what effect she had on men—and nudity supercharged it.

There was the okay sign. Lisa extended a leg from behind the bush, and then looked again. Colin's eyes were still open. She shot him an angry glare. He looked confused for a moment, then seemed to realize something, and quickly slapped his hand across his eyes.

After checking one last time that no-one was approaching from the left, the right, or any other direction, Lisa started sprinting. The wind whipped at her skin and a train of long blonde hair billowed behind her. Her bare feet pounded on the ground, and her breasts bounced up and down with each step.

Once again, she felt the energy and power she had felt on that night of the streak. But this time, it was tinged with fear. She had no mask to hide her identity, and could not blend into a sea of other streaking naked bodies. Anyone might see her!

The fear was energizing. In seconds flat, she was safely on the other side of the raod, crouching behind the trashcans. She raised her head just above the top of one, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

"You can open your eyes now," she hissed in Colin's direction. "Where to next?"

Colin pulled his hand from his eyes and looked over at where Lisa's head poked above the trashcans. "The rest should be easier. No more road crossings. We can walk between buildings from here."

Lisa sighed with relief.

"This way," said Colin, turning around and motioning with an arm for Lisa to follow. "Keep low."

"No duh," Lisa muttered to herself as she moved in a low crouch from the trashcans to some bushes a little further along the wall.

From there, the two made their way between the walls of buildings, along narrow alleyways. Colin lead, always taking a moment to look both ways before turning and reaching back with an okay symbol if the path was clear, or ducking back himself if it wasn't. Lisa followed, keeping low to the ground and hiding behind every bush, shrub, tree, trashcan or dumpster she encountered.

In one alley, Lisa found a discarded cardboard box. "Stop for just a sec, Colin," she said. "No, don't look back! Not yet, anyway."

Lisa kicked out the bottom of the box and pulled it up around her body. It was big enough to cover what needed covering. But just as she was about to let Colin know that he could look behind him, she felt a sharp pain course up both arms.

"Yeow!" Lisa shrieked, immediately dropping the box and jumping away from it.

"You okay back there?" Colin asked, clearly wanting very badly to turn around.

"Yeah, yeah... totally fine," Lisa replied, crouching and rubbing her arms. "Just wonderful..."

There would be no getting around this curse. It wouldn't even afford her the indignity of hiding in dirty cardboard box like some kind of cartoon character.

Lisa and Colin continued their journey. "We're getting close now," said Colin. "The entrance is just around this last corner."

Colin turned the corner, and Lisa quickly followed suite. Only to see two girls coming from another direction, deep in conversation, not watching where they were going. And one of the girls, Lisa recognized instantly, was Bethany.

Time slowed to a crawl. Colin's gaze met Lisa's. The girls inched forward. Any moment now, they would look ahead and see a totally naked girl in the middle of campus.

Colin sprinted away from Lisa. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Look at me!" he shouted, waving his arms in the air and jumping up and down. "Hey ladies, look at what I can do!" Then he tipped over sideways, into a cartwheel. Unfortunately, Colin clearly didn't know how to do a cartwheel, and ended up collapsing in a heap halfway through. "Wheeee!"

Bethany and her friend watched Colin's display, looked at each other, turned their noses up, and kept walking. They continued down the path, past the Fine Arts building, without ever noticing the naked girl who was watching them from the alleyway she'd quietly slipped back into.

Lisa's heart pounded in her chest. Tiny hairs across her body stood on end. That had been a close one! And to be caught by Bethany of all people—she would sooner be seen naked by literally anyone else on campus, anyone but her.

Familiar footfalls caught her ears. "Lisa? Are you there?" Colin had picked himself up by now, and was stumbling back into the alleyway, hand firmly plastered over his eyes. "Ow!" he said, as he walked into a wall.

Lisa felt sorry for him, stumbling around like that, after embarrassing himself in front of a couple of attractive older girls. But maybe she could make it up to him somehow. Her heartbeat picked up again.

"Yes, Colin, I'm here," Lisa said softly. "And you can open your eyes."

When Colin's eyes opened, Lisa was standing just in front of him, back straight, arms relaxed at her sides, smiling. "Thank you for that distraction. I know it must have been embarrassing."

Colin gawped for a second, but then turned his head away.

Lisa giggled. "It's okay, Colin, you don't have to look away."

Slowly, Colin moved his head back. His puzzled eyes meet Lisa's.

Lisa shrugged. "You embarrassed yourself for me," she said. "So here I am, embarrassing myself for you."

Colin's gaze dropped. "Y-you have nothing to be embarrassed about."

Lisa felt at once immensely embarrassed and very proud. This wasn't how she'd imagined it would go, being naked in front of a boy for the first time. He was absolutely mesmerized by her body, and that felt incredible. His eyes greedily drunk in the soft, round curves of her boobs, topped with pert pink nipples, the pale skin of her flat tummy, her cute little slit of a pussy, barely obscured by a tuft of fuzzy blonde hair, and her long, muscular legs.

After basking in his gaze for a long moment, Lisa twirled around to give him the full picture. She looked over her shoulder with her most sultry expression, and was pleased to see Colin still frozen in awe, eyes locked the big, round ass that was the envy of her friends. This was... kind of fun, really. She didn't really think she liked him in that way, though. But it was still thrilling!

Lisa turned back around and took a few steps towards Colin, snapping her fingers to break him out of his trancelike state. "Okay, I'm flattered, but that's enough for now. Back to the mission. Let's go find those tunnels."

Colin nodded slowly, and shuffled forward. Lisa was still standing in front of him. They were close now, really close. Lisa could smell his deodorant, could feel his breath on her skin. She looked up at his face, and they locked eyes. Was he... kind of handsome?

Two flannel-covered arms wrapped around her back, and she fell into his embrace. He pulled her towards himself, and she kept her eyes focused on his. They kissed. She could feel the erection under his jeans against her bare stomach.

But as their mouths parted, she noticed something else. She could feel his jeans, his T-shirt, his flannel over-shirt. None of them shocked her, or caused her to shrink back.

"Colin," she said.

"Yes, Lisa?"

"Take off your shirt."

Colin didn't need to be told twice. He dropped his backpack, discarded his too-big overshirt in a split second, and he was pulling the T-shirt over his head when a yelp from Lisa stopped him.

"No, never mind, I can't wear this either," she muttered, glaring at the crumpled flannel shirt on the ground. "Oh, you can keep your t-shirt on. I just wanted to... hmm."

Colin obediently let his shirt drop back over his torso. Lisa pinched it and rubbed the fabric between her fingers experimentally. "It seems like I can touch clothing as long as it's being worn by someone else. Which gives me an idea."

"Yeah?" Colin asked.

"We've been able to sneak around through backalleys without being seen outside, but getting through the arts building might be a bit more difficult. There are a lot of rooms in there."

"That's true, and we'll have to go past most of them to get to the tunnel entrance."

Lisa gulped. "I've been dreading that. So, Colin, this shirt looks pretty big. How good are you at giving piggyback rides?"

Colin's eyes lit up with realization. "I used to give them to my younger brother and sister all the time!"

Lisa rubbed her hands together. "Excellent. Here's the plan: I'll climb on your back, we'll put the shirt on over both of us, then you'll run through the halls. Anyone who sees us will think we're just a young couple having some fun."

"What about my backpack?" Colin asked.

Lisa put a hand on her hip. "Seriously? What would you rather have on your back? That ratty old thing, or me?"

The backpack was instantly forgotten. "Climb aboard," Colin said, crouching down before Lisa.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. After a moment's hesitation, he put his arms under her thighs and hoisted her up.

"Okay, cool," Lisa said. "This feels fine. But now we need the shirt."

Colin put her back down, and the two of them stood over the shirt for a moment, figuring out the logistics of getting it over both their bodies. It looked like it would work.

"What is this, like triple-XL?" asked Lisa, as Colin pulled it back on.

"Yeah, my dad bought it for me," Colin said. Then, looking down, he added, "I don't really see him that much."

"Well, it makes you look like a dork. But I'm really glad about that right now."

Colin made a face. "Not sure I should be taking fashion advice from the naked chick."

Lisa slapped him playfully, then jiggled her hips. "I make it work, don't I?"

"Mm-hm."

"Even so, I don't need the whole of campus seeing this outfit. Let's get going."

Colin crouched down again, and Lisa put her head under his overshirt. She wormed her way towards him and finally stuck her head out of its collar.

The flannel was rough against her back, but not especially uncomfortable. But as soon as her nipples gazed the fabric of Colin's T-shirt, Lisa felt an unbearable heat shoot through her body. It was as if she'd just swallowed a ghost pepper.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" she cried, pulling herself out of the flannel shirt and staggering backwards. "No! Damnit!"

"What is it?" Colin asked, concern etched across his features.

"It didn't work," Lisa sulked. "As soon as I felt your T-shirt, my symptoms came back. The heat, the claustrophobia... it was awful! I just—couldn't!"

Lisa kicked up a tuft of grass in frustration. "But I also can't just go in there naked! Urgh!"

Colin put a hand to his chin. "But the flannel was fine?"

Lisa nodded, sniffing. "As long as you were wearing it too. I thought that's how it worked..."

"This is a very strange condition," Colin said. "But I've got an idea."

With that, he shucked off his flannel over-shirt once more, and pulled his T-shirt over his head. "What if we try with just the big shirt?"

Lisa thought for a second. What Colin was proposing was a bareback naked piggyback ride. That was a lot of skin contact. But also a lot less fabric contact, which seemed to be the key problem. It might just work.

"Okay," Lisa said. "Let's try it."

Lisa watched as Colin stuffed his T-shirt into his backpack, which was propped against the wall for later collection. He was tall and skinny, and could use a tan, but then so could she. Pleasingly, his muscles were more defined than she'd expected—the giant flannel shirt really didn't do him any favors.

Colin pulled the big shirt back over his arms, and Lisa got underneath it once more. She popped her head through the collar, and wrapped her arms around his chest. Her boobs pressed against his back, and she felt his arms wrap around her thighs as he lifted her off the ground.

"All good?" Colin asked.

Lisa blushed at their closeness. "Yes. I feel fine," she said.

"Great."

Colin crouched down again, and through shared effort they managed to button his shirt up all the way down. They didn't have a mirror to inspect the final result, but Lisa imagined that they looked like some kind of freaky conjoined twin, with two heads poking out of the same shirt.

Most importantly, the shirt was long enough to come quite some distance past Lisa's butt, and her whole upper body was hidden behind Colin's. Her legs and feet were obviously bare, but anyone who saw them would probably assume she was wearing short shorts. Only Colin would know the truth, through the constant reminder of her skin against his.

"To the tunnels!" Colin cried, before racing forward.

As they burst out from the alleyway, Lisa laughed uproariously, and nuzzled the top of Colin's head. For any passersby, they were a crazy couple having some fun, a boyfriend giving his girlfriend a ride on his back, overcome with joy and mutual attraction.

And there were a few people in the halls of the arts building, who cheered and smiled approvingly as Colin and Lisa raced passed. Lisa caught the eyes of an older couple, probably teaching staff, giving each other knowing glances as they waved to her.

Colin seemed to have been given supernatural strength by the gods of horniness, but even this had to wane eventually. His bounds turned into a walk, and then a stagger. Just outside the ladies' restroom, he came to a stop, breathing heavily.

Lisa was about to reprimand him, but then realized she had a reason to stop of her own. With all the experimentation and excitement, she'd forgotten that she had started feeling a rather desparate need to urinate. And her bladder had only gotten fuller.

She couldn't hold it for much longer. Definitely not however long it would take them to get to Debra's dorm. And even then, getting to the ladies' room there would be its own adventure. This would probably be her only chance to relieve herself, unless she wanted to do so down Colin's back. That would probably kill his attraction pretty fast.

Lisa made up her mind. "Psst, Colin, let me down here. I've gotta pee."

Colin slumped down gratefully, and Lisa's feet touched the ground again. She awkwardly shimmied out from under his flannel shirt, and then immediately pressed her back to his. "Stand in front of me while I check it's empty, okay?"

With Colin standing guard in front of her, she gently pushed open the door of the ladies' room and surveyed its interior. It appeared to be empty.

"Stand guard. I'll be quick." With these words, Lisa slipped into the restroom and darted inside the nearest toilet stall.

She plopped down on the toilet seat and her whole body relaxed. Everything drained out of her. All of the tension, the stress, the nervous excitement seemed to dissipate. For the moment, she was alone again, and secure. Such a relief.

Muffled voices sounded through the bathroom door, and instantly the tension returned. An older woman was yelling at someone, probably Colin. Was he just standing in front of the bathroom door, not letting anyone pass? Well, that is what Lisa had asked him to do.

The bathroom door opened, and Lisa heard the same voice repeat "Shoo, shoo!" followed by a haughty harumph. Terrified of being seen, she lifted her feet from the floor, so that they wouldn't be visible under the stall door.

Lisa heard the sound of humming, mixed with running water. It didn't sound like the woman was going to try any of the stalls. Probably she was just washing her hands, or adjusting her makeup. Lisa waited for her to finish, scarcely daring to breathe.

At last, she heard the bathroom door open and shut. Feeling a welcome release of tension, she rose from the toilet and exited the stall.

Only to immediately lock eyes with a small, gray-haired lady in a floral dress and knit cardigan. Lisa's breath caught in her throat, and it felt as though her veins were clogged with ice.

Despite being confronted a fully nude Lisa, the lady appeared unpeturbed. She blinked, and then her face broke into a welcoming smile. "Here you are!" she said. "I was starting to wonder. But don't worry, you're just in time for the class."

Before Lisa could protest or even move to cover herself, the woman was ushering her out of the restroom with a hand on her back. "You must be Sara, our new model. I'm Professor Galloway. It's lovely to meet you! And thank you so much for donating your time to the cause of art!"

"M-my pleasure," Lisa stammered.

"We've got quite a full class today, and it's going to be long one too!" Prof Galloway continued. "I hope you're good at holding poses!"

Lisa tittered nervously.

"Oh, but of course you must be," said Prof Galloway, who wouldn't stop putting her hand on Lisa's shoulder and arm. "This clearly isn't your first time."

Lisa gulped. Her legs, as though they had a mind of their own, were walking towards a packed art classroom, where, Prof Galloway assured her, at least a dozen students would be eagerly scrutinizing every inch of her body for the next two hours.

To be continued...

[FinchAgent]

Chapter Nine: Unveiled

"Let's begin, shall we," boomed the voice of Prof Galloway, as she and Lisa entered the classroom. "Sara, please take a seat in the middle of the class, and we'll begin."

The shock of walking into a room full of art students in her birthday suit was enough to make Lisa momentarily forget that the professor was addressing her. The eyes of a dozen painters looked out from behind easels and stared at her. Some of the younger students, especially the males, were wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, while the older ones had more detached, analytical gazes, though none was without a hint of surprise.

Lisa imagined that most models only disrobed once they were inside the room, rather than walking through the door already naked. They probably all thought she was an exhibitionist, though that could hardly be further from the truth. She could feel her face burning up with shame, and had to look down at the floor to avoid eye contact with the artists.

It took all of Lisa's willpower to not wrap her arms around her body and run away. Rationally, she knew that would only make things worse—without Colin, she wouldn't be able to find the tunnel entrance. Where had he gone?

The other option, she supposed, would be to explain to Professor Galloway that she actually wasn't Sara the model, and ask for some clothes, but that would fall apart as soon as she proved unable to wear or even touch the clothes. It had been difficult enough telling Colin about her condition, she didn't want to let this whole class in on it as well.

So, as awful as the thought of spending the next two hours posing nude was, it appeared to be the best available choice for an unwillingly perpetually naked college student who just wanted to get to her friend's dorm while drawing the minimum amount of attention to herself. She would stay here for now, act the part of Sara, and hope that Colin managed to find her.

"Sara?" asked Professor Galloway. "Hello?"

"Oh!" said Lisa, snapping out of her reverie. "Sorry, Prof, I just zoned out for a second there."

"That's quite alright. Please take a seat so we can begin."

Lisa nodded and slunk towards the platform in the center of the room, where a large red cushion had been laid out for her comfort. She plopped her butt down and crossed her legs, glad for this small bit of modesty.

The first pose Prof Galloway had her assume allowed her to relax a bit more. She twisted her torso slightly, and draped one arm across her breasts, covering both nipples, with the other arm resting at her side. Her chin tilted up, and she tried to remain as expressionless as possible.

"Perfect," said Prof Galloway. "Class, you may begin."

Silence descended on the class, save for the soft sound of pencils on paper and the irregular click of Prof Galloway's shoes, as she moved around the class, pausing to look at each student's work. Occassionally she offered some terse comment, or, more often, just the cluck of her tongue.

Lisa focused on maintaining her pose, keeping her eyes facing upward and away from anyone else's. She thought back to the party Bethany had made her attend naked. It had been dark, and she had been masked, and the shots Bethany had given her had numbed her feelings. It all seemed like a dream... except for the sushi table. No mask could distance her from the memory of those rough hands, those tongues... Lisa suppressed the urge to shudder, and refocused on her pose. She thought about Bethany, and was once again relieved that Colin had saved her from being caught naked by that vile bitch.

A few things made this experience different from the party. The room was well-lit. Everyone, especially Lisa, was thoroughly sober. And they could all see her face. She was being studied, intensely, from every angle, by trained artist eyes. There was no chance any of these students would fail to recognize her on campus. At least her pose was a modest one.

"Sara, let's switch things up a bit," said Prof Galloway, just as Lisa was starting to becoming somewhat comfortable. "I'd like a nice arch in the back for this next pose." Galloway put her arms behind her back and momentarily leaned her head back, intending Lisa to follow suit.

Lisa shifted uncomfortably and bit her lip. So much for modest poses. She reluctantly removed her arm from her chest, letting her breasts loose. She noticed all too keenly the effect this had on the male painters.

Galloway, impatient, jerked in and out of the leaning position another couple of times. Lisa caught her eye and nodded, fighting to remain expressionless as she shifted on the cushion. She placed her elbows down for support and arched her back, bringing her head down and sticking her boobs out. Long blonde hair cascaded down below her, and she felt blood rush to her head.

"Thank you, Sara," said Professor Galloway.

The air filled with the sound of rustling papers, and the once again with the sound of pencils. Lisa looked up at the patterns on the ceiling, grateful that this position did not allow her to make eye contact with any of the artists as they formed the shape of her upturned breasts. The thought made her blush.

Galloway clearly appreciated the discomfort of Lisa's current pose, so she did not make her hold it for long. She encouraged her students to replicate the pose in a few strong lines, with the minimum of detail added before it was time to change.

"Let's have you on your side, Lisa. A nice recline, if you would."

Lisa let out a relieved breath as she released the arch in her back, and then rolled over onto her side, supporting herself on one elbow. This pose required her to uncross her legs, giving half the class a view of her ass, and the other half a look at her breasts and neat blonde landing strip. And she could make eye contact with the second half, though she tried not to.

The gazes of the artists were quick, darting, and very serious. An older boy with brown eyes appeared to be working on the curve of her hip, and a girl about her own age briefly studied her feet. A couple of younger guys kept sneaking glances at her breasts, but were so erratic and embarrassed about it that they couldn't have been doing a very good job actually drawing them. Lisa smiled to herself as Prof Galloway chided one of them, repeated stabbing his easel with a wrinkled index finger.

After this third pose, it was time for a break. Lisa pulled herself into a sitting position, slouching and letting her arms relax at her sides.

"Thank you, Sara," said Prof Galloway. "You've been excellent so far. There's a robe for you hanging on that screen in the corner, if you'd like."

Lisa looked in the direction indicated and saw a silk robe draped over the top of a wooden changing screen. She longed to feel the smooth fabric on her skin, to hide herself from the intense gaze of the artists, but knew that it was futile. "That's okay," she said, using all her willpower to sound casual and nonchalant.

"I assumed as much, considering how I found you wandering the halls," said the professor. "You're a natural. I do hope you'll model for us again."

The professor trotted off to talk to some of her class individually, and Lisa slowly rose from the cushion and subtly stretched her legs. Without a set pose, she felt awkward and fidgety. It would look ridiculous for her to start covering up after having declined Galloway's offer of a robe, so she tried to adopt as modest a stance as possible without betraying her discomfort. She kept her legs close together, but not touching, and fidgetted with her hands to avoid placing them over her breasts.

"Sara, come take a look at what you've inspired," said Prof Galloway, beckoning her over. "No masterpieces, I'm afraid."

Lisa walked stiffly towards where Galloway stood behind the easel belonging to a mousy, freckled girl with large glasses. The girl looked down at her feet, unable to make eye contact. Was it possible that she was more embarrassed about her sharing her art than Lisa was about being naked?

The drawing of Lisa in her reclining pose was familiar enough to bring a blush to Lisa's cheeks. The girl hadn't drawn in her face, but the body that Lisa had spent so much time looking at in the mirror was all there in black and white. Lisa marvelled at the detail the girl had managed to evoke with so few pencil strokes.

"I love it," she said, causing the girl to lift her eyes for a moment, a smile spreading across her freckled countenance.

"Now, now, don't let the praise get to her head," said Prof Galloway. "A solid effort, Miss Jenkins, but the legs are a little stubby, no? Sara here has beautiful, slender legs."

Lisa looked away as the professor and Miss Jenkins spent a moment studying her bare legs.

"Yes, I see it now," came Jenkins's quiet, high-pitched voice.

"You might do better on the next pose."

Prof Galloway led Lisa around the room, on a tour of the artists' renditions of her body. Miss Jenkins's was among the best. Many were misshapen, or had unsteady lines, or looked a bit too stylized. Still, there was some good art mixed in with all of it. One of the older male students had done a fantastic job of drawing her butt—even she was shocked that it looked that good.

More than the paintings, Lisa dwelled on the reactions to her body, up close. Some of the politer students held firm eye contact with her, or kept their eyes on their easels, but others devoured her with their eyes. And she, playing the part of the nude model who was too at-ease with her nudity to even bother to put on a robe during her break, had to stand there and take it.

"Take a good look at Sara's breasts, Mr. Renwick," Prof Galloway demanded of a young male student as she tapped his easel disapprovingly. The student did as commanded, face burning up. Lisa looked up at the ceiling.

"They are not balloons stapled to an ironing board! Please note the effects of gravity! The teardrop shape! One would think young men in this day and age spent enough time looking at women's breasts to be able to draw them correctly."

After Mr. Renwick had made a few corrections to his work, Galloway allowed Lisa to return to her spot in the middle of the room and assume the next pose.

"For this one, I'd like you standing, legs wide, hands on your hips. A proud warrior pose."

Lisa did as she was instructed.

"Wider stance."

Lisa bit her lip as she inched her feet apart, wider and wider, until Prof Galloway allowed her to stop. She could feel a breeze between her legs, and knew that the artists could now see more than just her landing strip. Renwick in particular stared openly, clearly taking his professor's advice to spent more time studying the model.

While her face remained blank, Lisa struggled internally. She'd always been a modest girl. Apart from that one week in preschool, she'd never had a strong desire to go naked. She loved clothes, loved picking outfits and getting all dolled up. Her style was sophisticated, professional. She wore jeans with boots and she wore polonecks. She wore one-piece swimsuits, though usually backless. She loved accentuating her hourglass figure, but she had always tried to leave as much to the imagination as possible.

When she had no longer been able to wear clothes, she had spent weeks hiding in her dorm room, darting out only for showers. Sure, there had been the streak, but there everyone was naked. And then there had been the party, and the VIP room, and the hands and the tongues.

And now she was standing naked in the middle of an art classroom, boobs out, legs wide, pussy lips on full display. All on the same day as she had presented her naked body to a guy she'd just met, then kissed him and rode naked on his back. What was she becoming?

"Thank you, Sara," said Professor Galloway, after a shorter time than usual. "While we have a model of your calibre, I would like to try some more complex poses."

Lisa nodded, dropping her arms and brought her legs back together. But her relief would not last long. The professor asked her to lie down on the floor, and then lift her legs up in the air. Lisa did this obediently, but the professor indicated that she should go higher.

"This is an upside-down pose."

Lisa planted her elbows down firmly for support, and lifted her butt up in the air, above her head, until only her upper back remained on the floor. The professor nodded, and directed her to keep her right leg straight up and bend the knee of her left one.

"Wonderful!"

Once more, the air was alive with the sound of graphite on paper. Galloway instructed her students to focus on the gesture of the pose, so as not to make Lisa hold it for too long.

From her new position, Lisa found herself looking up at her stomach, pussy and thighs. It was an uncomfortable position, but not as much as she had expected. She found herself holding it with surprising ease. This close, she could see some hints of muscle definition in her stomach that she hadn't noticed before. Mostly, she was grateful that her legs were quite close together. Though her right was starting to feel heavy.

"Thank you, Sara. You're holding that very well. Now, if you wouldn't mind, please bring your legs out to the sides."

It was like there was a direct path from the professor's orders to Lisa's body, a path which completely bypassed her conscious mind. At once, her legs fell open, splayed for all the world to see. Lisa heard low whispers and the sound of suppressed gasps, and her face reddened. Somehow, the universe had found a way to make her feel even more naked. Her completely exposed pussy was the central feature of this pose! Why was she doing it?

"Focus on gesture!" said the professor. "Quick, confident strokes!"

Lisa hoped that meant the artists wouldn't be dedicating too much time to the details of her labial folds. But she knew that many of them would be committing the image to memory regardless.

An earsplitting siren shocked Lisa out of her contemplation, not to mention her pose, as she slumped into a heap. But no-one around seemed to care.

"Fire alarm!" Prof Galloway shouted. "Please make your way to the fire exits at once!"

The students dropped their pencils and scrambled out of the hall, followed by the professor. Lisa picked herself up and stood with her legs pressed firmly together. Her heart sank at the prospect of having to leave the classroom as she was, but she had little choice. Exposing herself to even more people was, she supposed, better than being burned alive.

"Come, come, Sara," said Prof Galloway, placing a hand on her back and pushing her towards the door. "I don't think we have time to fetch your robe, I'm afraid!"

Lisa rushed ahead of Prof Galloway and burst out of the classroom. The siren was deafening.

A wave of people from other classes streamed by, many of them staring as they passed. Fire or no fire, Lisa was an eye-catching sight. Thankfully, the whole crowd kept running, rather than stopping to gawk.

Suddenly, Lisa heard a whoosh, and she was engulfed by fabric. An arm pulled her in, and she felt skin against her skin.

"Got you!" said Colin, who was now holding Lisa against his side, open flannel shirt draped around her. "Don't worry, this isn't a real fire. I pulled the alarm so we'd have a distraction. Let's get out of here."

Colin led Lisa quickly in the opposite direction from where the crowd was headed. They turned a corner, and found themselves alone.

"The entrance is just down there," Colin said, indicating a stairwell with his chin. "In the basement."

Colin's sneakers and Lisa's bare feet pounded across the floor as they raced towards the stairwell. The last thing they needed now was to be caught by a professor and made them exit the building.

They flew down the stairs, taking two at a time, and soon found themselves in the basement. It was dark and dingy, and the air smelled of dust.

"The entrance is right down here, behind the boxes," Colin said, ushering Lisa to a corner of the room.

And indeed, behind a stack of moldy cardboard boxes, stood an iron door. Colin released Lisa and walked towards it. It was a heavy door, but it wasn't locked or stuck, so Colin was able to force it open with a few shoulder pushes. Beyond it lay inky blackness.

"Ladies first," said Colin, lighting up the tunnel with the flashlight on his phone.

Lisa gingerly picked her way across the dusty basement floor and squeezed through the gap in the door. She sensed the light from Colin's phone drop slightly as he took a moment to check out her ass.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Let's focus on navigation, okay!"

"Sorry!"

Colin took a moment to shut the door behind them, and then took his place by Lisa's side. The fire alarm had turned off by now, and the two of them took a moment to catch their breath.

"Colin?" said Lisa, looking up at Colin's dimly lit face.

"Yes, Lisa?" Colin replied, turning to face her.

There was a loud SLAP as Lisa's palm made contact with Colin's cheek.

"Ow!"

"That's for abandoning me to me that art professor!" Then Lisa stood on her tiptoes and leaned in to Colin. This time, their lips made contact. "And that's for rescuing me from her."

Colin wrapped his arms around her, and she around him. "I really hope you know how to get to the Usman Dorm from here," Lisa whispered.

To be continued...

[Mai88]

Got to be honest, after getting caught by the professor in the last chapter I didn’t expect things to get resolved so smoothly. I’m looking forward to the next update. I’m also quite curious as to how Lisa will end up breaking her curse? I’m assuming that she’s going to need to make peace with the witch who cast it, but given the girls current predicament she can’t exactly go about in public without attracting unwanted attention. Though Debra probably has a few tricks up her sleeves to help mitigate the issue and I hope it’s what I’m thinking it will be.

[FinchAgent]

Chapter Ten: Unsafe

Debra heard a knock on the door. Hoping that it was finally Lisa, rather than Shelly or Claire returning once more to report their lack of success at finding her, she sprung from her chair and quickly pulled it open. She was getting tired of doing this for Shelly and Claire, but should it actually be Lisa, she'd probably be naked and wanting to get inside pronto.

As soon as the door opened, a tall flannel creature with hunchback and two heads tumbled inside, collapsing on the floor. Debra let out a gasp, readied herself to battle the unholy demon, and then realized that one of the heads belonged to Lisa. The other head, and the tall, lanky body, appeared to be that of a college boy about her age.

Debra shut the door.

Lisa disentangled herself from the flannel and stood up, showing Debra the old, familiar sight of her naked body. Her hair was all over the place, her skin was streaked with dust and grime, and her bare feet were quite filthy.

The boy was similarly disheveled, but clothed, though his shirt was far too big for him and the top few buttons had come undone. He picked himself up, looked Debra in the eye, and held a hand out for her. "Colin."

Debra took his hand in hers with a confused smile.

"You must be Debra, the witch," he said. "Ow!"

Colin jerked his arm back, rescuing his hand from Debra's sudden vice grip. But Debra paid him no attention, as she was too busy glaring daggers at Lisa, who had taken a seat, legs crossed, on Debra's bed at the end of the room.

"What?" Lisa asked, looking genuinely confused before her eyes widened in realization. "Oh, right, it's supposed to be a secret, isn't it? The whole magic thing..."

Debra was fuming. "Yes, Lisa," she spat through gritted teeth. "And it's my secret, not yours. When I let you and the others in on it, it was on the understanding that you wouldn't go running your mouth to random boys you fancied."

Lisa blushed. Colin looked down at the floor, making himself small and looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

"I'm sorry, Debs," said Lisa, after a long, awkward silence. "It's just, well, Colin's really come through for me today. I woke up naked in the middle of the botanical gardens, unable to even touch clothing, all my belongings gone! If he hadn't shown up, I would have had to do a solo streak all the way across campus! Heck, he saved me from getting caught by Bethany! Who knows what that would have led to?"

Now it was Colin's turn to blush, a dopey smile spreading across his face.

Debra crossed her arms, unimpressed. "I told you the counter-curse wasn't permanent. If you'd listened to me, none of this would be happening right now!"

"You said the onset would be gradual, and I agreed to come to you if I felt like it was returning. But it wasn't! One minute, I'm totally comfortable wearing multiple layers of normal clothing. The next minute, I'm naked and get an electric shock when I try to pick up a sock!"

"I said it might be gradual, or it could be sudden. I wasn't sure! Which I also said, but you didn't listen to me. You were too busy running around with your new friends and going to class, like everything was totally fixed, when I told you it wasn't."

Lisa stood up, her face a mask of rage. "Yes, I was busy having a life again, as a normal college student, after being trapped in my dorm room for weeks because I couldn't wear clothes! I wanted a normal life, how selfish of me!"

"And look were it's gotten you," replied Debra bitterly, gesturing at the floor length mirror propped against the wall to the girls' side. "You're even worse than before."

Lisa turned her head to the mirror, and was confronted with her naked body in profile, as well as Colin's swiftly averted eyes. "Some witch you turned out to be!" she spat.

"Careful, or I'll turn you into a frog!"

"Frogs don't have to wear clothes, so maybe that'll work better than the last thing you tried! Unless it also wears off after two weeks!"

Debra and Lisa were right in each others' faces at this point, their noses almost touching. Both looked ready to hit the other.

Colin stepped between them in an attempt to prevent this outcome. "Ladies, please, let's just calm down. Mistakes were made, but we've got to move past that."

"I should turn you into a frog!" shouted Debra. "After Lisa told you everything, that's really my only safe option..."

Lisa was visibly shaking now. She pulled back her arm, and Debra's eyes widened. But rather than slapping Debra, she slid her arm around Colin and sidled up to him. "Come on, Colin, let's get out of here, before Debra the Teenage Bitch tries another one of her shitty spells."

A war played out across Colin's countenance. Any observer could see he was frantically calculating his next move, fighting a battle between desires, keenly aware of the naked girl pressing closer and closer to him, and slightly less aware of the witch trying to kill him with her glare.

Colin bit his lip and looked down at Lisa, taking a long moment to take in all of her. Then he looked away from her, and appeared lost in thought, while she slid behind him and started lifting the back of his shirt.

"Wait, Lisa," he said. "I can't let this happen."

Lisa dropped the shirt and gave Colin a confused look. "What are you talking about?"

Colin sighed deeply. "I'm not going to pretend I understand a whole lot about this magic stuff. Debra, Lisa really didn't tell me that much. But she told me enough for me to know that walking out right now would be a huge mistake."

Debra's expression softened, but Colin paid her no mind for the moment, turning to face Lisa. He looked her in the eyes, and then pointedly looked down at her body. "Lisa," he began, "you told me that a witch put a curse on you that made it really uncomfortable to wear clothes, forcing you to go naked most of the time. That's really crazy shit and I wouldn't have believed it if we hadn't just had the day we had. But here you are, naked in front of a guy you've just met, and choosing to get naked piggyback rides rather than put on clothes."

Lisa blushed deeply. "I... I'm not usually like this."

"I know," said Colin. "And as fucking hot as it is to see you like this, and to carry you around... and even though a part of me wishes you'd never cover up..." At this, Colin returned his gaze to Lisa's eyes. "I want you to be cured. I want to see you wearing clothes, and feeling happy, and being confident. And I think your friend Debra is the only person who knows how to make that happen."

Then he turned to Debra. "Please, Debra, don't be mad at Lisa because she told me a few things she shouldn't have. I understand that you value your secrets. Heck, I'm still having trouble believing that magic is actually real. But please, forgive Lisa. I'll keep your secret, I promise."

Debra's expression was a stony mask. Lisa and Colin looked at her with pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry about what I said," said Lisa, shoulders slumping. "I didn't mean any of it. I wasn't thinking straight. It's been a crazy day. I'm... really grateful to you, Debra. So far you've been the only person who's come anywhere close to curing me. And I should have listened to you before."

The muscles in Debra's face relaxed into a weak smile. Lisa's dejected expression was eminently pitiable, a trait only enhanced by her involuntary nudity. "Okay," said Debra. "I forgive you. I probably should have been more understanding myself, given what you've been through. This magic stuff is complicated, and I could have explained things better."

"I'm all ears from now on."

"Then let's get you cured. Permanently, this time."

With a squeal of delight, Lisa sprung forward and hugged Debra, while Colin watched awkwardly from the side. Debra patted her friend on the back, and the hug separated.

"So, how do we do that?" asked Lisa.

"We need to go back to the source. The place the curse was cast."

"The witch's boutique."

"Exactly."

* * *

"Wow, Lisa, you look amazing!" said Colin, as he joined the four girls standing beside the road out of campus. It was dusk, a few days later.

"Thanks," Lisa said, twirling a strand of blonde hair and blushing slightly. This was the first time he had seen her with clothes on.

Claire was dressed in her normal athleisure outfit, and Shelly in a hoodie and jeans. Debra and Lisa wore matching all-black outfits, consisting of sneakers, jeans and long-sleeved, form-fitting tops. Debra carried a black canvas bag, containing gloves and balaclavas for both of them, a pencil and paper notepad, as well as screwdriver and an unmarked bottle of strange blue liquid.

After Lisa had arrived in Debra's dorm room, the girls had called a meeting. Colin, being unavoidably in on the secret now, was permitted to participate, on condition that he didn't spend too much time staring at Lisa.

It was decided that Debra and Lisa would travel to the witch's boutique in Lisa's hometown, which wasn't too far from campus. To avoid attracting undue attention from the witch or any customers, they'd do so at night, after the place had closed. But for any of this to work, Lisa had to be able to wear clothes, at least temporarily.

Lisa's condition had worsened to a point where this was basically impossible, as she and Colin explained. Even the touch of fabric had become too much for her, though there was the loophole of clothing worn by someone else. After brainstorming some ideas about more piggyback rides or if she could pretend to be a conjoined twin with someone (Shelly's suggestion), it was unanimously decided that Debra would try recasting her counter-curse that night. Colin had not been permitted to join.

"Witchcraft is girls only, pal," Debra had said. "And you've seen enough skin already."

It wasn't a full moon, so Debra had to augment her powers with something she jokingly called "steroids for casting", a blue liquid she'd procured at great expense. She'd also need it for any magic she'd be doing once they got into the witch's boutique, hence the bottle in her bag. "We'll be inside then, with no moonlight to work with."

The counter-curse spell worked, and the girls were all able to get dressed afterwards.

"I don't know how long the counter-curse is going to last this time," Debra said to the group assembled on the roadside, "but it won't be two weeks, like last time. If we're lucky, we'll have just enough time to pull this off. How are you feeling, Lisa?"

Lisa's face was marked by a strained expression that her friends had long associated with attempts to wear clothes. "My heart is pounding and my stomach is doing jumping jacks, but that might be more because of what we've about to do than the clothes. I think I can hold out a while."

Shelly placed a comforting hand on Lisa's shoulder and gave her a reassuring look. "It's not for much longer. Debra's going to cure you."

Some way down the road, a blue sedan rounded a corner and came into view. Debra glanced at her phone. "That's our ride. Wish us luck."

The girls all exchanged hugs, and Lisa gave Colin a quick kiss. Debra and Lisa waved goodbye as they climbed into the back of the sedan and greeted the rideshare driver. The car turned around, and their friends waved to them as they drove out on their mission.

"Where you ladies off too?" asked the driver, though he already had the location.

"Party at 56 on Seven," Debra replied nonchalantly. "The theme is all black."

In a spot of amazingly good luck, this was entirely truthful. Debra and Lisa had discovered that a club just down the road from the mall containing the witch's boutique was holding an all-black outfit party that very night. To avoid catching a ride to a closed mall and raising undue suspicions, they would catch a ride to the club, pretend to go in, but then go to the mall instead.

"Cool, enjoy," said the driver.

The trip would take around thirty minutes, during which time Lisa and Debra had to be careful not to speak about their real evening plans, or about any of their other many secrets.

"So... Colin," Debra started.

Lisa smiled. "He's a sweet guy."

"A bit awkward though."

Lisa nodded. "Not my usual type, I'll admit, but he's done everything right so far. Well, mostly."

"Just watch out that he doesn't take advantage. You know, of your... situation."

"If all goes well tonight, there won't be a situation anymore, Debra."

Debra nervously flexed and unflexed her grip on the handles of the canvas bag. "Yeah, that's true, I guess."

Lisa could feel a knot forming in her stomach. "You know what you're doing, right?"

"Of course," replied Debra, flashing a winning smile.

Prying any further would require getting into specifics that weren't appropriate for the driver's ears, so Lisa dropped the matter and passed the rest of the ride in silence.

"We're here," said the driver, as he pulled in front of 56 on Seven. Music was pumping, and there was a line out the door.

The girls thanked him and climbed out of the sedan, then slowly ambled towards the end of the line. Once the car was out of sight, they ditched the line and headed for the mall.

Though they only walked a couple of blocks, it was enough for the music of the party to leave earshot, and the crowds of happy revellers to completely disappear. Lisa and Debra walked an empty street in the quiet, dark night, headed for the mall. This was a pretty safe part of town, but Debra nonetheless kept one hand on the bottle of magic steroids inside her bag.

The girls reached the back of the mall without incident, where they quickly located a fire escape. Now the mission really began. Debra handed Lisa a balaclava and gloves and took another set for herself. Both girls donned the masks, shoving their blonde hair inside, and then pulled on the gloves.

"This is making me a bit uncomfortable," said Lisa. "My face feels like it's being pushed, just slightly."

"We'd better hurry then, the counter-curse is wearing off."

The girls tip-toed through the fire escape, up a flight of metal stairs, and into the dark and empty mall. Lisa had spent a lot of time in this mall as a teenager, so she'd made sure to bring them to the closest fire escape to the boutique, which was indeed just a few shops down from where they entered. The slow, cautious sneaking seemed to take much longer than a brisk, daytime walk through the mall though, and with every step, Lisa and Debra thought about the consequences of getting caught.

There it was. Annabelle's, it was called. Presumably this was the name of the witch. The interior was dark, and the doors were locked.

Debra put her canvas bag down, looked left and right, and then produced the screwdriver. She rummaged inside her balaclava and pulled out a hair pin. Then she set to work on the lock. Before, they'd just sneaked into the mall through an open fire escape. Now they were breaking and entering. There was no going back.

"Do they teach you this at witch school?" Lisa asked.

"There's no such thing as witch school. And anyway, I need to save the magic for reversing your curse," Debra replied, her ear pressed against the door as she fiddled with her tools. "My dad's a locksmith, he taught me. It's much easier with a proper pick though."

For a few minutes, there was silence, but for the clinking of metal against metal. "I just realized," mused Lisa, "this is the second time I'm committing a crime against this witch."

Debra smirked, but continued her work without saying anything. Then there was a click, and the lock released. Debra smiled at her handiwork, pushed the door open, and bade Lisa to go in first. "The difference is that this time, we won't get caught," she said confidently.

The boutique was quite small, and its floor was a maze of clothing racks. Debra and Lisa took it all in, the dozens of different outfits for ladies of all ages, the reams and reams of fabric. Lisa absently took the hem of a dress between two of her fingers, and felt a slight shock, which made her withdraw her hand at once. They really didn't have much time.

Debra opened her bottle of blue liquid, which appeared to glow faintly in the darkness and took a swig. "Yuck," she said, making a face. "I'll never get used to this stuff." Then she closed her eyes and made a faint humming sound. She cast a spell to detect the magic residue in the store.

Though her eyes were closed, she was almost blinded by the sudden flash as the residue revealed itself to her. Many, many spells had been performed in this boutique, doubtless all of them by the witch Annabelle. Debra slowly opened her eyes and squinted out at the boutique, which was now, to her eyes covered in multicolored masses of glowing light.

"Did it work?" asked Lisa.

"I can see... everything!" Debra exclaimed. "This bitch has cast a lot of... hey, what happened to your shirt?"

Lisa stood before her in black shoes and jeans, a black bra and a black balaclava. Her bare stomach rose up and down in quick, nervous breaths.

"I had to take it off," said Lisa. "I think the counter-curse is wearing off."

"I'd hoped it would last a little longer. But whatever, we're here now. All I need to do is find the residue that belongs to your curse."

Debra took another look at Lisa, who was fidgeting with a belt loop on her jeans. Now that some of her skin was exposed, Debra could see faint pink tendrils of magic residue extend out from her. She traced the smoky line of one such tendril with her finger.

The line was thin and windy, and it tangled with magic in other colors, some of them in a very similar pink. A few times, Debra had to backtrack when she realized she'd taken a detour on a tendril that was dark or two light to be Lisa's. But eventually she traced it to the source, a rack of dresses near the entrance of the store.

"I've got it," Debra whispered, looking back at Lisa, who had lost her bra.

Lisa pumped a fist in the air, making her breasts jiggle. She blushed at this, and covered them with her gloved hands. This caused immediate discomfort, and she dropped her hands at her sides.

Debra returned her focus to the magic residue of Debra's curse. She took another, bigger swig of blue liquid, and cast a recall spell.

At once, Lisa, under the effect of the spell, walked towards the rack and picked up the closest skirt. She looked left and right, and then furtively undid the front of her jeans and stuffed the skirt inside, before doing them back up.

As she turned to walk away from the rack, Debra heard a loud voice in her head. The witch's curse came through clear and strong. Debra scrambled for the pencil and notepad in her bag to write it down.

The curse was long and complicated, with contingencies and defenses against all of the most common dispellations. As punishment for stealing the skirt, the witch Annabelle had cursed Lisa to very gradually grow more and more uncomfortable in the clothes she wore, to return to the feelings she'd had for a single week as a young child. For months after the curse was cast, she would only feel a minor irritation, not even knowing what it was. But this irritation would mount, forcing her to wear looser and looser outfits, for shorter and shorter times, until the mere touch of fabric caused unbearable pain. In the event of a countercurse, this process would speed up.

Finally the witch had added a single exception, perhaps as an act of mercy. The touch of fabric would only be bearable for Lisa while it was being worn by someone else. She could touch and hug without consequence. She would even be allowed to share another's clothing, while they wore it, as long as her skin touched theirs.

Once the recall was completed, Debra opened her eyes. She saw Lisa, blinking out the effects of her trance, her undone jeans bunched up about her ankles, and the stolen skirt lying in front of her.

"I've got it," said Debra. "I heard the whole curse, spoken clearly."

"So you can undo it?" asked Lisa, pulling the jeans off her ankles.

"I think so. I just need a little bit of time to work a couple things out," Debra replied, tapping the back of her pencil on the notepad paper.

"Please hurry," said Lisa, as she carefully placed the skirt she'd taken back on the rack. Without the jeans, she was topless in black panties. "But also be careful and make sure you get it right."

"I'll try my best," Debra said, tearing the page with the spell written on it out of her notebook so she could refer to it while she worked on the reversal.

The boutique was silent but for the soft sound of Debra's pencil on paper. To a normal observer, the store was dark, but Debra saw her paper lit up by the masses of magic residue all around her. She cast her mind back to the lessons she'd had on spell reversal, and worked through the various conjugations.

At last, she lifted her pencil. "Okay, I've worked it out."

Lisa had removed her panties, and was now naked but for her shoes, gloves and balaclava. "That's great," she said, "because even I can't pull off this outfit. Nude burglar just isn't my look."

Debra cocked her head. "I dunno, Lis, you should give yourself a bit more credit."

Lisa put a hand to her hip, and then struck a pose, like she was reaching for a high window, her gloved fingers curling like cat's claws.

"You make it work," said Debra.

"Thanks, but let's get on with the spell reversal now."

Debra nodded sagely and pulled the bottle of magic steroids from her bag. She opened it up, made a face, and then downed it. "Uurgh," she whispered. "That was disgusting, but I'm ready now. Come closer."

Lisa stepped towards Debra, and Debra began chanting. She put her hand on Lisa's shoulder as her face contorted in unnatural syllables of the curse reversal spell. Her eyes glowed the same blue as the magical steroid liquid, and the glow slowly spread to her face, down her neck, and out of the hand that rested on Lisa's bare shoulder.

Lisa felt a warmth as the glow enveloped her. All of her stress and discomfort evaporated at once. She forgot that she and Debra had broken into a clothing boutique in the middle of the night. She forgot the sweaty heat, the horrible constriction of being confined in those tight black clothes, the battle between her desire to stay clothed and the sheer intolerability of doing so. She felt warm, and safe, and comfortable, as though she was taking a luxurious bath. In fact, she was almost comfortable enough to fall asleep...

And then she wasn't. All of a sudden, the pleasant warmth turned hot, and Lisa stifled a scream. Her eyes shot open, and she looked directly into Debra's, which were wide with the same horror she felt. The blue glow around them had turned a harsh red color, and Debra had stopped chanting. The knuckles of her hand were white, and she dug her nails into the flesh of Lisa's shoulder.

"W-what's going on?" cried Lisa, "Debra, that hurts!"

The red glow blinked off, and Debra's grip released. Lisa was left in total darkness.

"Debra?"

There was no response.

Lisa put her arms out, but Debra was no longer standing in front of her. She looked around frantically, squinting in the darkness, but could see no sign of her friend. Where could she have gone? Lisa stepped forward to look for her, and her foot brushed against denim fabric.

Lisa crouched down and picked up the fabric. Bad idea: the shock of its touch instantly jolted her and made her drop it. "Fuck!"

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Lisa realized that she'd just tried to pick up Debra's jeans, which were lying alongside the rest of her clothing in a heap on the floor. She could smell sulfur, and a faint plume of smoke rose from the pile.

"Debra!" she shouted, immediately clapping her hand over her mouth as her voice rang out in silent dark.

Then there came another shout, from somewhere further away. A man's voice, harsh and gruff. There was more shouting, and the sound of heavy footfalls, and barking dogs. Lisa turned her gaze to the entrance of the boutique, and saw the beams of flashlights dance in the dark. Debra was gone, and she was caught.

Lisa's nudity now seemed like the least of her problems.

To be continued...

[FinchAgent]

Chapter Eleven: Unleashed

She couldn't allow herself to panic and freeze up. Right now, Lisa had to act. Unless she wanted to be arrested for breaking and entering, she had to move. Could they also charge her with public indecency? Best not to find out.

Lisa grabbed the bag that Debra had been carrying and used it to scoop up her disappeared friend's clothes, as well as her own. No time to think about what had happened to Debra. The canvas didn't trigger any reaction when Lisa touched it, so clearly the lightning shock only applied to clothes. Although, if she were to cut a couple of holes in the bottom...

"Mmph!" Lisa stifled a cry as the canvas suddenly became too hot to touch. Had the curse advanced that quickly? No, it had been her thoughts. She remembered the cardboard box in the alley.

"It's just a bag," Lisa whispered to herself. "I'm going to use it to carry things. It's not an outfit. I'm not going to wear it."

She steeled herself and reached out to touch the canvas again. It felt fine. Totally normal.

"Phew," she said, as she finished scooping up the clothes. "Now to get out of here."

Lisa slung the bag over her shoulder and tiptoed towards the entrance of the boutique. Slowly, carefully, she peeked around the corner. She could still hear footsteps and see flashlights, but they were on the lower floor of the mall. The security guards, or police, or whoever they were, were conducting a thorough search, and they hadn't yet reached her level, let alone the boutique. But it wouldn't take them long.

Heart pounding, Lisa advanced out of the boutique entrance and into the open hallway. The mall was large and spacious, so she pressed herself against the window of the boutique. The glass was cool against her bare ass.

Then, slowly and carefully, she pulled the boutique door closed. Lisa had picked up everything they'd left inside, and she could see no signs of disturbance—they certainly hadn't stolen anything.

Luckily, the boutique door locked automatically when shut—just like her dorm room door. Lisa remembered how terrified she'd been when Wendy had stolen her towel and made her streak back to her room. Her current predicament made that look like a walk in the park.

The flashlight beams disappeared, heading deeper into the mall. So they weren't coming upstairs just yet. Relieved, Lisa pulled herself away from the wall and into the main walkway.

A beam reappeared, shining up onto the walkway from the lower level. It glanced over her, then immediately returned. Momentarily, she locked eyes with a security guard, standing on the lower level, looking up at her. His mouth hung open.

Lisa sprinted across the hallway and towards the fire escape, holding tightly to the canvas bag. She heard confused shouts from below, and pumped her legs even harder.

She skidded around the corner and through the metal fire escape door, then down the metal stairs, taking two at a time. Then she was out in the cold night. The breeze chilled her bare skin.

But she was still on the mall's grounds, could still hear the shouting and barking dogs. She needed distance. That was the only thought on her mind as she ran through the parking lot, and out towards the street.

Out on the main street, the streetlamps shone brightly. A car zoomed passed, and Lisa crouched down and slunk back. They hadn't seen her, or at least, hadn't cared to stop. But the street was too bright, too exposed. Lisa crouched low, hung towards the facades of the downtown buildings, and continued her frantic run.

She zigzagged down the streets, keeping low to the ground and out of the traffic lights, only stopping once she was certain she had gone far enough way from the mall. But she still felt exposed, endangered, and so she ducked through a nice, dark alleyway, far from her pursuers and any prying eyes.

It then occurred to her that a dark alleyway in the middle of the night was, in all probability, a much worse place for a naked young lady than a brightly lit downtown street.

She heard a scream from deeper in the alley, only confirming her fears. Her blood ran cold, and she dropped the canvas bag to her side.

"Help! Thief!" came a shrill woman's voice from deeper in the alley.

Then there was the sound of running footsteps, and a black shape barreled towards Lisa, who still stood frozen in fear.

The shape collided with Lisa and... recoiled back. Lisa stood firm, shocked as a black-clothed man, who had at least a foot on her in height, and was almost twice as wide, seemed to bounce off her. Like her, he had a balaclava over his head, so she couldn't see his face, but she imagined it was just as shocked as hers. Perhaps even more so, given her nudity.

After standing for a moment, stunned, the man let out an angry roar, and ran at Lisa again. She put up her arms in defense to shield her face, and shut her eyes. As her arms shot up, she felt something contact her fists. Then... nothing.

When Lisa opened her eyes again, the man was splayed out on the floor. The lady's bag he had been carrying in front of him lay at his side. He was completely motionless. All Lisa could do was stare. Had she done that? Lisa, the naked superhero!

Heels clicked against concrete, first cautiously, then with increased confidence as the bag's owner approached it, and quickly snatched it back up. It was an older lady, though one with a fairly robust frame, dressed in evening-wear. Several strands of hair had escaped her up-do, and her makeup was somewhat smudged, but otherwise she looked fine. Her face was a stern mask of composure. Lisa locked her gaze for a moment.

The woman looked Lisa up and down, and then whacked her in the face with her bag. "Disgusting!" she shrieked, before hurriedly disappearing around the corner. "Put some clothes on!"

By the time Lisa regained her composure, the woman was long gone. The purse thief was still out cold at her feet, but Lisa thought better of waiting for him to wake up. Her face still smarting from the impact of the lady's bag, she picked up her own bag and scampered out of the alley and down the street.

Lisa found a quieter alley to take stock of her situation. The encounter with the thief was confusing, but it had assuaged some of her fears about her current situation. Whatever had happened there, she could probably make it happen again if she needed to.

But what had happened there? Going over it again in her mind, it seemed as though she'd been able to inadvertently body-slam and then punch out a large man. What's more, she'd managed to run full tilt with barely any breaks from the boutique, down her crazy winding path, all the way to this alleyway without even needing to catch her breath. And furthermore, she was outside naked in the middle of night, and could barely feel the cold.

Lisa thought back to the Fresher's Streak, and how she'd performed so much better than any race she'd been in before. She cast her mind back to Shelly's experiments with temperature, and how comfortable she'd felt in the nude when Shelly's teeth were chattering beneath multiple layers. Ever since she'd started living life this way, her focus had been on how uncomfortable she felt in clothes, and how to reduce that. But now she was noticing the opposite—how very comfortable and strong she felt in the nude. Was this some unintended consequence of the curse?

Just then, a car sped by, and Lisa instinctively dove behind a dumpster. Unintended positive consequences or not, she didn't fancy giving a show to random strangers. Her body was hers, to show to who she wanted to show it to, and no-one else. Well, as few people as possible, at any rate.

Lisa noticed an almost-intact full-length mirror behind the dumpster. Her face still hurt from the lady's bag, and she wondered if it had left a mark. She picked up the mirror and moved it nearer to the mouth of the alley, placing it in a spot where it caught some light from a streetlamp.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she realized at once why the lady had hit her. With her gloves and balaclava, she looked like she might have been the purse snatcher's accomplice. His kinky accomplice, given the rest of her attire. Far from a naked superhero, she looked like a naked criminal. Debra was right, it was a look she could definitely pull off. And also not immediately need to literally pull off.

Another positive side effect of the curse, then: her body was looking really good. She had no tan-lines. Her arms and legs were smooth and toned. Her breasts were firm and round, firmer than they'd ever been with a bra. Her stomach was flat with just a hint of muscle. Her hips and butt were full and voluptuous. Some of this may have been true before, and had revealed itself through many hours of mirror watching, with no clothes to hide behind, but some was new. She stood up straighter now, and felt fitter than she ever had before.

Lisa sighed, wishing she could take all of these new benefits back to her old life, where she was able to wear clothes. Then she pulled off her balaclava and let her long blonde hair fall about her face. This was the first item of clothing she had been truly happy to remove in a long time. She shook her hair out, and then neatened it up with her hands. Her face was red and had some marks on it from the fabric, but otherwise looked fine. The bag hadn't done any permanent damage.

Not wanting to look like a naked criminal anymore, Lisa dropped her balaclava in the canvas bag and did the same with her gloves. If the policeman at the mall had had a good look at her, they would probably be searching for a naked woman wearing a balaclava and gloves. A naked woman in just shoes probably wasn't enough of a disguise to throw them off, but it was what Lisa had to work with. Better to look like a poor, lost victim than some kind of kinky criminal. Although carrying around a bag full of clothes might reduce the plausibility of any victim narrative.

Lisa chuckled darkly at the sight of herself in the mirror. Here she was, carrying around two full outfits, unable to wear either of them.

But there was something else in the bag she could use. Namely, Debra's phone. She gripped the canvas of the bag such that she was also holding most of the clothes, and started shifting things around. She was using the bag as a glove—don't think "glove" that's an item of clothing—as a mitt to manipulate its contents without touching them. With a bit of finagling, she positioned Debra's jeans such that the top of the waistband was facing the opening of the bag. Then, she turned the bag over and carefully shook it, keeping the opening close to the ground.

Debra's pink panties fell out. Alarmingly, they were singed.

After a few more shakes, Debra's phone clattered to the ground. Lisa picked it up, but it was dead. Either the battery had died, or it had been damaged in whatever crazy magic reaction had taken Debra away. What was that about anyway? Lisa hoped that Debra was safe. Or, at the very least... alive.

Despite constant mashing of the phone's side buttons, it refused to come on. It didn't look permanently damaged. But on the other hand, Lisa was sure Debra had charged it just before they'd left. She'd reminded her, seeing as it was the only phone between them. Lisa was still waiting on the insurance replacement for the phone she'd lost in the botanical gardens. Her parents hadn't been happy about that.

Here was the situation: Lisa was naked and stranded in the middle of town, far from her dorm room, with a bag of clothes she couldn't wear and a phone she couldn't use. If she could charge the phone, and it turned out not to be broken, she would be able to call Shelly and get some help. A rideshare, at least, though she didn't relish the prospect of spending thirty minutes sitting naked in a stranger's car. And then there would be the matter of getting back to her dorm. Still, it was better than her current situation.

But how would she charge the phone? She couldn't exactly waltz into a gas station and ask if someone had a spare cable. Not without attracting a lot of unnecessary attention and a possible indecent exposure charge. Actually, just thinking of the "clever" lines she'd have to hear about charging cables from greasy truckers made the whole thing deeply unappealing.

Alternatively... there was her parents' house! Of course! Back in high school, she'd often taken her bicycle from home to the mall. It was on one of those occasions that she'd taken the dare from Stephanie that resulted in her being cursed. She'd gone a bit off track now, in her efforts to the lose her pursuers, but she was still pretty close to the mall, and could definitely find her way home from here. What's more, she had a secret way of opening her bedroom window from the outside.

That was it, then. She'd go to her parents' house. Everyone would be asleep, and she'd be able to sneak in. Then she would have options. She could charge Debra's phone and call Shelly.

The only risk was the possibility of her parents noticing she was home. She would have to make something up. And figure out a way to stay in her room. The last thing she wanted was to explain any of this to them. Imagine! Sitting naked at the kitchen table, looking at her mom's worried expression and her dad's forcefully averted gaze, while rattling on about witches and curses. Debra would have to turn her into a frog, and that would be the least of it. Even if she made up some lie about having a disease... no, her parents could never know.

But she couldn't worry about any of that now. She had to figure out how to get home without being seen.

The first thing to do was to ditch the bag. Debra's phone was the only thing she needed from it anyway. After scooping Debra's singed panties back into the bag, Lisa tied its handles together and tossed it into the dumpster. Being forced to abandon perfectly good clothes was one of the worse things about this curse.

Lisa took a last look at herself in the mirror, tidied up her hair, and then set off in the direction of her parents' house.

In the distance, she could hear sirens.

To be continued...

[FinchAgent]

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."

Lisa gulped. "Y-you're very kind," she stammered, "b-but I couldn't! I wouldn't want to ruin your fashion show!" Her throat felt dry as she forced the words out. Internally, she fumed at the witch's curse, and how it compelled her to reject clothes freely offered.

Purple put a hand to his chest in a gesture of shock. "Please, do not think of it that way, madame! You must be cold, out in this city at night without any clothes on. I won't ask how you came to be like this... unless... were you... should I call the police?"

Lisa's eyes widened momentarily, and then she calmed herself down. "Oh no, no, I'm fine, it's nothing like that. I'm fine, really. Well, mostly fine." She smiled and tilted her head, while clutching her body tighter.

Purple visibly relaxed. "That's... unexpected. But I will not pry. I can see you are uncomfortable. Please, put on this dress. Our show is not until this evening. I will collect it from you later."

Lisa hesitated. She knew that as soon as she touched the pink fabric, shockwaves would shoot down her arm, and she'd have to let it go. The curse was worsening all the time, and Debra's latest countercurse had completely worn off. But she couldn't exactly explain any of that to this guy. Moreover, she felt terrible about rejecting his kind offer. If only she could take the ridiculous pink ruffled dress! Then all her problems would be solved.

Purple continued to hold out the dress, but his smile was waning.

"Ha!" said Green. "Look at her face! She'd rather stay naked than wear that hideous thing! Girl, I'm with you one hundred percent!"

Purple glared at Green, and Green glared back. For a moment, it looked like they might come to blows.

"I-it's not that!" Lisa stammered.

"It's okay, honey, I understand," said Green. "I'd also sooner go naked than wear one of his designs. Maybe this orange number would be less insulting to a lady of your refined tastes?" At this, he pulled out something that looked like bedazzled prison overalls.

If anything, this outfit looked even more ridiculous than the first one. But Lisa would have given anything to be able to wear it.

"I wouldn't let my dog wear that!" sniffed Purple. "Please, do not insult the lady!"

Purple took Lisa's hand and placed it against the one of the pink ruffles of his dress. "Just feel that, isn't it divine?"

"Yeeowch!" Lisa shrieked, immediately pulling her hand away.

The look on Purple's face made her instantly regret her reaction. She felt as though she'd just put a knife into his chest.

"Bhwahahahahaha!" Green doubled over with laughter, his whole body shaking. "She can't hide her true feelings! You're a hack, Pierre!"

Pierre looked as though he might start crying any minute.

Fuming, Lisa reached out and grabbed the sleeve of the orange overalls. "AAAH!" she screamed, reeling back, shaking her hand and blowing on it. "Owowowowowow!" It hurt, but she was overplaying things a bit.

Green's face fell, and Pierre seemed to cheer up a bit.

The pain and discomfort Lisa felt when touching clothes had slowly gotten more severe, but it was always relieved as soon as she lost contact with the clothing. She knew that she wasn't actually getting shocked, or burned, or squeezed. Wearing clothes did not do her any physical damage. In a real sense, the pain was all in her head. But knowing that didn't really help.

The shock of touching the overalls was gone, and Lisa surveyed the situation. A clothesrack full of high-fashion outfits, and two fashion designers who hated each others' guts. If she stuck around, they would probably spend the rest of the night trying to get her to put on clothing designed by one of them, and the competition was likely to get extremely cutthroat. It would also mean a lot of pointless pain and discomfort for Lisa. She still had to get to her parents' house before the sun rose.

"Thank you both," she said. "I'm sorry for my reactions. Both of these outfits are wonderful. And you are so kind for being willing to let me wear them."

Both men looked at her with confused expressions. "Why won't you?" asked Pierre. "Why do you recoil at the touch of my work? Surely, even if it is not what you usually wear, surely it would be better than going naked!"

Lisa blushed deeply and avoided eye contact with either of them. "It's... a bet. My... boyfriend bet me I couldn't streak across town to his place. Right now I'm winning."

Pierre raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Your clothes are very tempting," Lisa continued, wrapping one arm tightly around her breasts and squeezing the hand of the other between her legs. "I thought the streets would be empty, but I've been seen so many times already... it hasn't been as easy I thought it would." It certainly wasn't easy, Lisa thought, standing naked in front of a strange old man and explaining why she wouldn't be taking the clothes he offered you. Especially when she so badly wanted to.

Lisa's expression hardened. "I almost gave into temptation and lost the bet. That is the reason for my reaction. I was disgusted with myself, not with your beautiful clothes! I would love to wear them, really, on any other day."

"That is... brave," Pierre said. "I don't know if it is intelligent, but it is brave."

Pierre reached into his purple suit jacket and pulled out a crisp white card. He presented it to Lisa with a flourish. "I am disappointed that you will not wear my clothes tonight, but if you feel differently in the future, perhaps you would like to model for me. Here is my card."

Her? A model? Lisa blushed. "Th-thank you," she said, taking the card.

"It is not every day one meets a naked woman on the street. Perhaps it is for a reason."

Lisa smiled and held the card awkwardly for a moment, moving it from her breast to her hip. One of the more mundane problems with being naked all the time was that she never had anywhere to put things. But she was wearing socks, so she bent down and slipped the card into her left sock.

"Good luck with your fashion show," she said to Pierre.

"And good luck with your bet," Pierre replied. "I hope your boyfriend appreciates this."

Then, before she could think anymore about the clothes she had rejected, she took off running in the direction of her parent's house, the wind against her skin a reminder of what she couldn't have.

The sound of police sirens quickened her pace. Had she made a mistake, not taking the clothes? The police would, after all, be looking for a naked woman. But how could she, when the slightest touch of fabric sent jolts of electricity through her? Well, clothing fabric, at any rate. The canvas bag had been fine.

Some time later, Lisa spied a couple in the distance, and dove into an alley. She found a dumpster to hide behind, peeking her head out just slightly so that she could watch for them to pass.

The woman of the couple was quite short, and had long dark hair. She wore a form-fitting black dress that showed off her ample curves. The man was broad-chested and had neat brown hair and an olive complexion. He wore a dress suit and trousers, his sleeves rolled up and the top button of his shirt undone. They were chatting and laughing with each other, and Lisa waited until their voices had died away completely before slowly, cautiously sneaking out of hiding.

"No. Way!" A female voice startled Lisa, and she turned around to see the couple standing right in front of her. With a small "eep!" she brought her arms over her body.

"Oh, honey," said the woman, reaching an arm out. "I know exactly what you're going through right now."

"Y-you do?" Lisa brought her eyes up, and made eye contact with the woman, who had big brown eyes that lit up her sweet, round face. She was a few years older than Lisa, and a few inches shorter.

The woman nodded sadly. "You feel exposed, and constantly on edge. You're stressed out, trying to find clothes, but no-one seems to want to help you, and there's nowhere to hide from all the prying eyes. You feel like you're giving yourself away, like you've become someone you never thought you would."

The woman sounded sincere, and she held steady, sympathetic eye contact with Lisa. Had she been cursed once too? She clearly wasn't right now.

"That's part of it," Lisa said.

"What's your name?" asked the woman. "I'm Angela."

"Lisa."

"I'm glad to have met you, Lisa," said Angela. "Believe it or not, I was in your shoes a few months ago. Well, until I lost my shoes as well, anyway. Not that far from here, actually."

"Really?"

Angela nodded. "I was alone, naked, in the city at night. I'd been trying all day to get clothes, but everything I did just seemed to make things worse. No-one wanted to help me, and whatever clothes I did get, I would end up losing almost immediately. It was awful!"

"Hey, that was the night you met me," said the man, sounding hurt.

Angela side-smiled and gazed at her boyfriend for a moment. "Well, there were some good parts too." She leaned in to Angela and whispered in her ear, "Guys will go wild over your outfit."

Lisa giggled, despite herself. That had certainly been true with Colin.

"There's good parts and bad, but you have to be in control. And among friends," said Angela. "I can see you've been through the bad parts."

Lisa nodded.

"What's your plan?"

"I'm going to my parents' house. It's not far from here. I'm going to charge this phone there." Lisa held up her left hand, which was still clutching Debra's dead phone.

Angela smiled. "Well, please let me help you out."

And at that, she grasped the bottom of her black dress, pulled it up and over her head, and held it out to Lisa.

Lisa gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. How could she refuse this? She couldn't reuse the story about the boyfriend bet—she'd already revealed the truth to Angela, that she hadn't ever intended to be out here naked, in her body language as much as in her words.

Angela stood beaming in her lacy white undergarments, holding her dress out. "I wish someone had done this for me."

"I can't take your clothes!"

"You can, and you will." Angela looked at her boyfriend and winked. "You like this outfit better anyway, don't you?"

"Yes ma'am." Despite the naked college girl standing in front of him, Angela's boyfriend only had eyes for her.

"Please, it would mean the world to me," said Angela, practically shoving the dress in Lisa's face. "Donato's place is right around the corner, I'll be fine like this. He'll carry me. And after what I've been through, this underwear feels like a suit of armor. I'm sure you can relate."

If Lisa couldn't lie to Angela and Donato, maybe she had to tell the truth. Or part of it. Perhaps she could tell them she was allergic to clothes. They would be sympathetic. And if their place was right around the corner, maybe they could take her there, and then she could charge Debra's phone, and figure a way out of this mess.

The sound of distant sirens reminded Lisa that she was still being chased by police. She couldn't involve this kind couple in any of that. No, she had to part ways with them as soon as possible. For their own good. The police were scouring the city for a naked woman. She had to get to her parents' place and lie low. But wouldn't it help if she didn't match description anymore? Wouldn't that be wonderful?

Angela cocked an ear, clearly hearing the sirens as well. "Fun fact! Public nudity is not actually illegal in this city. A policeman told me that, before leaving me naked on the side of the road."

That was a surprise. If the police hadn't been after her for breaking and entering, it might have made her feel better. Still, was one fewer charge for the rap sheet, should they actually take her in. Which they wouldn't.

"I know that doesn't help!" Angela added. "Just because it's legal, doesn't mean you actually want to be out in the middle of the night with no clothes on! You don't need to tell me that, I totally get it." She waved the dress in front of Lisa's face.

Lisa looked at Angela's heartfelt, sympathetic expression. She had thrown away her own clothes, and Debra's, and then immediately been offered her pick of a line of high fashion outfits. Now this lady was giving her the dress off her back. The universe seemed to be telling her something. Lisa had to take the dress. She had to wear it.

Lisa remembered the canvas bag. She'd been able to carry it without issue, but the moment she started thinking about trying to wear it in some way, it had shocked her. She remembered her most recent encounter with clothes, with the fashion designers. How touching fabric had hurt, but only for a second, and how the pain never lingered once she let go. How it was all in her head. The curse did not cause clothing to physically hurt her, it just made it feel that way.

She had an idea, and the only way to know if it would work was to try it. The fabric in Angela's hand was bunched up, vague. If Lisa unfocused her eyes a bit, she could tell herself it was a bag, not a dress. If she kept telling herself that, maybe she would start to believe it.

"Thank you," said Lisa, as she took the black bag from Angela. Bag. Bag. Bag. Black bag.

"It's the least I can do," Angela replied, stepping backwards into Donato's waiting arms.

Lisa grimaced with concentration as she turned the black bag over and then casually, nonchalantly, pulled it over her head. The strap of the bag was over her shoulder, she told herself. She was carrying the bag. Both of its straps were over her shoulders. She could feel it on her back. She could also feel it everywhere else, but she focused on her back.

As Angela was a fair bit shorter than Lisa, the dress was scandalously short, coming to an end well before mid-thigh. But Lisa didn't think about this. She thought about carrying a black bag on her shoulders. She didn't think about the feeling of the fabric on her skin, sheltering it from the wind. She thought only about carrying a bag.

"Thank you, Angela," Lisa said, trying her best to sound happy and natural, even though pretending she hadn't just gotten dressed was taking all of her concentration. Sweat poured down her forehead.

"The pleasure is all mine," Angela replied, giggling as Donato hoisted her up into his arms. "Would you like my underwear as well? I'm not gonna need it." She gave Donato a knowing look.

"That's okay," Lisa said quickly, worried Angela might actually strip off for her. "This is plenty."

Angela nodded, seeming satisfied. "Good luck, Lisa!" Then she reached up and whispered something in Donato's ear, and he carried her away.

Once Donato had turned the corner, Lisa took off running in the direction of her parents' house, her mind still preoccupied with the thought of the black bag she was carrying and not wearing. She was sweating profusely, and feeling a familiar sensation of constriction, but so far, the mind games appeared to be working. She just wasn't sure how long she could keep it up.

The dress rode up as she ran, and she could feel the cool air among her nether regions. She focused on that feeling, and it brought a blush to her cheeks. She was naked, carrying a bag. Running naked through the streets. Chased by police, whose sirens were getting louder.

Wait, why was she running? She shouldn't be acting like they were chasing her! Lisa slowed right down to a walk and tried to look casual. She pulled at the bottom of the bag she was carrying, and felt that all-to-familiar sensation of mixed relief and discomfort as the dress—no, bag—once again covered her whole butt.

Lisa's body was slick with sweat, and she could feel a dull constricting feeling. If she let her thoughts drift to the feeling of fabric against her breasts and tummy, it got worse. If she focused on the parts of her body that were still bare—her arms and legs—the pain and discomfort lessened.

But the most important part was to keep telling herself she was still naked. She called to mind the image of her body in the mirror, and focused on it. It had become a normal, boring sight, naked Lisa in the room with clothed Shelly.

Lisa then attempted to picture some of the rare group selfies she'd allowed the girls to take with her. Claire in the middle, Debra and Shelly at the sides. She'd always stand slightly behind the others, with their bodies covering enough of hers that one might think she was just wearing a shoulderless top, with an exposed midriff, and short shorts. She always looked a little embarrassed in those shots.

Finally, Lisa recalled the art class. Posing naked for all those students, letting their eyes devour her, standing with her legs—

The flood of images in her mind's eye made her pace quicken, and fabric started to ride up her thighs. She pulled at the fabric without thinking about it—her mind battled itself as she tried to believe two mutually annihilating truths. She was naked. She was clothed. She was naked.

Somehow, it was working. Lisa was getting close to her parents' house now. It was only a few blocks away. She looked forward to climbing through the window and dumping the bag she was carrying. Yes, the bag.

So absorbed was Lisa in her thoughts that she didn't even notice the police patrol in front of her until a dog barked.

The dogs! She'd forgotten about the dogs.

But they had not forgotten about her.

Three policemen with three dogs stood at the far end of the street, having just left their cars. The dogs were barking at Lisa, and as she caught the eyes of one of the policemen, she saw a spark of recognition.

The dogs were coming for her. The men followed or were dragged, straining to keep hold of their leashes.

Lisa turned around and ran.

The air was full of the sound of barking dogs as Lisa sprinted through the dark city streets, twisting and turning through the streets and alleyways. Her dress was riding all the up now, bunching up by her waist, but this was the least of her worried. The policemen shouted at her, telling her to stop, to hand herself in.

All it did was make her run faster. She'd come this far, and she'd go farther still. She leaped down the sidewalk, not feeling fatigue, just the thrill of adrenaline. The barking was becoming fainter, and the shouts less coherent.

Until a wire fence leaped out in front of her. It was easily seven feet tall, and surrounded on both sides by buildings. Foolishly, she'd run down a narrow alley without checking that she had a way out. The only direction she could move was back the way she'd come, back towards the police and their dogs.

Lisa swore at herself. She looked back down the alley. Barking and shouting still filled her ears. There was no way she could go that way, her pursuers were too close.

Really, there was only one option. A few months ago, Lisa would have thought it impossible. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Lisa took a moment to stuff the phone she still carried down the front of her... bag. It was tight enough that it should hold in place. Then she turned back towards the fence, bent her knees, and leapt, hands forward like claws.

She grabbed the wire links and climbed, hefting her body up to the top of the fence, and then over the top. She was straddling the fence. Now she had to get down. With a grunt of effort, she hoisted her right leg up and over the top, and threw herself forward.

Something snagged. There was a brief feeling of pressure, then a loud ripping sound, followed by a heavenly sensation of relief. Lisa had cleared the fence, but her dress had not. She glanced back at the torn black fabric, hopelessly tangled up in jutting wires, and then continued running.

For the first time, Lisa felt completely relieved to have lost her clothing. Her mind was exhausted from the pressure of trying to convince itself that she wasn't actually dressed, and now it could rest. Her skin was delighted by sensation of the cool night air.

She ran until she reached a short wall. Behind it and below it raged the river that flowed through the city. Having nowhere else to go, she climbed onto the wall and looked down at the swiftly moving current.

The police had not lost track of her at the fence, like she'd hoped. After all, she'd left a twisted piece of fabric as a clue for them. And Debra's phone! It must have dropped when she was climbing the fence! She'd forgotten all about it.

Dogs barked behind her, and the policemen approached. Lisa stood still on top of the wall, looking down at the river. The wind whipped up her blonde hair.

A loudhailer clicked on, and a man's voice said, "We have you surrounded! Come down from there!"

The dogs had been quietened, and the man with the loudhailer paused to wait for Lisa to comply. There was long, tense silence. Lisa knew that she was in enormous trouble, the biggest trouble she'd ever faced.

A policeman coughed, and another one muttered something to a colleague about the view.

It was a ridiculous thing to worry about at this stage, after all she'd been through, but Lisa couldn't help but blush at the thought of all these policemen standing behind her, staring at her bare ass. She suspected that the loudhailer man was pausing to savor the view.

Well, she thought, that's all they're going to get. She took a deep breath in and held it.

Then she fell into the river.

Lisa ignored the shouts of the police. Wind whistled over her body as she descended, finally breaking the surface of the water with a mighty SPLOOSH!

It was cold, so cold, and it propelled her forward. She struggled against, twisting until her head broke the surface and she could take a desperate gasp of air. She couldn't see much above her, but she knew she was moving fast, far away from her pursuers.

She wasted no time in kicking off her waterlogged shoes and socks, finding she could keep her head above water more easily without the extra weight. Her toes wiggled in delight, and she felt that the last of her burdens had lifted. The river held her in its watery embrace, and she surrendered to it, lost herself to the current.

After some time, the high walls and the smells of the city gave way to empty fields, and then to lush riverbanks. This river, she knew, flowed out of the city and through a deep forest, and that's where it was taking her.

A small, ever more distant part of her mind screamed at her that she was crazy. It was a miracle she hadn't died jumping from that wall, and how was she not freezing right now?! For that matter, how had she managed to run so far and so fast, outrunning police dogs, and still have the energy to jump a fence? And how had she knocked out that purse-snatcher?

Living under the curse had changed Lisa. She was a very different girl from the naive, studious freshman she'd been at the start of the semester. Never in a million years would that girl have done what she was doing now.

The sun was coming up as Lisa slowly drifted towards the river bank. Grabbing fistfuls of reeds, she pulled herself out of the water and onto the shore. She stumbled forward, towards the softest patch of long grass she could find, and lay down, falling at once into a deep sleep.

To be continued...

[FinchAgent]

Chapter Thirteen: Untamed

The forest was peaceful. Birds sang, branches swayed in the gentle breeze, and the stream ran with a soft burble. Fish swam up and down in the cool, clear water. A large, plump one, moving languidly, coming dangerously close to the surface.

SPLASH! A golden brown flash broke the surface of the water. Fingers closed around the plump fish's slippery body. It shot up at once, breaking the water's surface, wriggling desperately. But the predator had the fish in a vicelike grip, and held it aloft. Its gills expanded and contracted uselessly.

The predator was a woman, standing knee-deep in the stream. Her skin was bronze from the sun's rays, and her hair a long, tangled mane of dirty blonde. She held the fish aloft in a victorious pose, her chin held high and her chest puffed out. From her head to her toes, she was entirely naked, adorned only with patches of river mud.

Lisa emerged from the stream, and bashed the fish against the trunk of a tree until it stopped wriggling. Her former self would have been horrified to see her kill an animal so viciously, but her current self thought only of her stomach, which gurgled loudly. The sun would be setting soon, and she needed to prepare her evening meal.

For the first week, Lisa had subsisted on diet of berries. She had been camping before, as a child, and knew which berries were safe, and which were harmful. Unfortunately, she could only find one type of edible berry, and the monotony and insubstantiveness of this diet had her stomach crying out for meat.

Her first catch was a rabbit. It was limping, having been injured by another predator, or she would not have caught it. She had squeezed her her eyes closed as she bashed its brains out with a rock. When she opened them, and saw its limp white body, she cried for half an hour.

But eventually the growling of her stomach overcame her sentiments. Having no way to start a fire, she'd eaten it raw. The meat was gamey and tasted mostly of blood.

Hunting became easier after that. Lisa learned to ambush small animals, and to chase them. She wasn't fast enough to catch most of them, but she could keep running until they collapsed from exhaustion. She also learned to fish with her bare hands, like a bear.

Exactly how she learned these things was difficult to say. Lisa felt she was tapping into something in herself that had lain dormant for her whole life, until now. There was a primitive animal brain underneath her own human mind, and it ran purely on instinct. The hungrier she got, the more she could feel it coming to the fore.

She was astonished at what she could do when she released herself to instinct. Every sense and reflex heightened. She could move quickly and silently through the forest in a crouch, and she could smell everything around her. Hunting and killing prey was natural. It became her primary focus.

When she was hungry, she hunted. When she was thirsty, she drank from the river or from streams. When she was tired, she slept, curled up in a patch of foliage or up a tree. The life she'd had before seemed like a dream she'd woken up from long ago.

For much of the day, Lisa gave herself over to instinct, but she couldn't hide from herself permanently. Right now, her higher mind was fully aware of the slimey dead fish in her hand. She forced the image of its body smacking against the tree trunk out of her mind.

Some way from the stream, a fire flickered in a clearing. Lisa had come across it the day before, and had managed to keep it burning in a small, controlled area. It probably wouldn't last much longer, but for now, she could cook.

She skewered the fish on a stick and held it over the flames. The heat of the fire felt good against her bare skin. Lisa congratulated herself for discovering fire. In another few days, perhaps she would be ready to start using simple stone tools.

How long had she been out here? She wasn't sure. She looked down at her legs, which had a light layer of blonde fuzz. Her pubic hair, which had once been a neat landing strip, was beginning to look like a forest itself, but that had been going since before she'd come here. It was the one bit of cover a naked girl could have.

She was naked. Without coverings. What a strange, faraway concern that felt like now. Of course she was naked. All the animals of the forest were. And what was she, catching fish with her bare hands, but another animal of the forest?

Well, except that animals didn't generally cook their food. But then, once this fire went out, neither would she. Primitive humans knew how to start fires. Lisa had not yet reached that evolutionary stage.

Once the fish was thoroughly roasted, she pulled her stick away from the fire and left it a while to cool down. She blew on the fish a few times, and took a big, grateful bite. It was a bit burned. She chewed and spat out the bones.

Her belly full, Lisa reclined in front of the fire, and lost herself in thought. On the day she'd arrived, when she woke up on the riverbank, she had panicked. For most of that day, and the next two, she'd searched for a way out of the forest. She'd followed the river back the way she'd come, but even after days of walking, had found no sign of civilization. She'd gone further out then she'd thought.

After that, tired and near-starved, she'd turned her thoughts to survival. And she'd survived. Her belly was full, and she felt strong and healthy. She'd noticed before how, since being cursed, she was able to run farther, react faster, lift heavier and withstand greater. She'd felt it during the Fresher's Streak, while holding poses in the art room, and most recently during her nocturnal dash through the city, when she'd even punched out that purse-snatcher. The witch had clearly tapped into something primordial hidden in her makeup. An animal instinct, from a time before human civilization. Before clothing.

Lisa put her hands behind her and reclined, looking down over her body. She was tanned, toned and muscular. The toes of her feet had spread out due to constant barefoot walking. It had been many days since she had last tried to wear clothes, and she didn't miss it. She shivered at the memory of fabric on her skin, rubbing it raw; Angela's black dress, and how hard she'd had to concentrate just to keep herself from tearing it off. It had felt so good when it finally got caught in the fence and ripped off.

Out here, Lisa could just be naked, with only the blank stares of animals to see her. She was lithe and agile, just like one of them. There was nothing to tear, or get stuck, or get in the way of her movements. After jumping in a river, she merely had to shake the water off. She finally felt comfortable in her own skin.

But Lisa knew she couldn't do this forever. Her family and friends would be worried about her. It was also getting late in the fall, and Lisa could feel a chill in the air. Although she was far less sensitive to the cold than she had been, even that wouldn't be enough once the snow started falling.

And then there was Debra. What had happened to her, when she disappeared? Was she... alive? Lisa recalled the singed panties.

No, she had to be alive. Debra was a witch. She knew how to take care of herself around magic. Lisa repeated this too herself, but it didn't become more convincing.

From tomorrow, Lisa would resume her journey up the river. She would return to civilization, to the tight, constricting fabrics and the leering eyes on her body. Prehistoric woman would rejoin the 21st century.

But first, sleep. Lisa threw some more sticks on the fire, found a tree with a wide, flat branch near the base, climbed it, and curled up in a ball.

* * *

The next morning, Lisa awoke to find that the fire had gone out. And she was hungry again. Despite being plump, the fish had not been very big or filling. As she descended the tree, she could feel her mind slip into hunting mode.
Dropping into an alert crouch, Lisa put her nose up and sniffed the air. There was food nearby, and it had already been killed. She was not above scavenging.

A short walk from her tree led Lisa to the body of a dead deer, about half eaten. She looked around carefully for other predators, and, seeing none, pounced on it. Her hands dug into the flesh of its side and tore chunks of meat, which she devoured hungrily.

When Lisa had eaten her full, she walked to the river and started walking against the current. Her belly full of raw venison, she started back in the direction of the city she'd escaped and the life that now seemed so remote and unreal.

After a few hours of walking, she noticed something unusual between the trees—something manmade, built out of wood. Narrowing her eyes, Lisa went to investigate.

The wooden cabin was small and overgrown. It didn't look as though anyone had used it in a very long time. Still, it looked as though it had once been very nice, and even now retained something of an inviting aura. A narrow porch extended in front of the entrance door. It had a small table and a couple of chairs, covered in dirt and leaves.

Propped against the exterior wall was another piece of furniture—a full length mirror. It was caked in filth, but appeared to be otherwise intact. Having only seen her reflection in streams and rivers lately, Lisa was curious to see how she looked in a real mirror, so she walked onto the porch and rubbed the dirt off the mirror with her forearm.

She gasped.

An intense, alert pair of blue eyes stared back at her, surrounded by a face that had tanned golden brown, but was mostly red. The blood from her breakfast was smeared across her mouth, and hands. Her hair was stringy rat's nest, sticking out at all angles.

Her body has as deeply tanned as her face and blotched all over with mud from the river. She stood in an alert hunch, limbs wide apart. Scratches crisscrossed her arms and legs. Blonde hair grew in all the places she normal shaved and her nipples had turned a dark pink. Her breasts and ass were firm, and she could see the muscles of her stomach.

Her body betrayed no sign, no hint of having ever been clothed. She was a wild creature. A beast. An animal.

A pained expression passed across the wild eyes in the mirror. The reflection began vigorously wiping its face, trying to remove the traces of rabbit meat. It stood up straighter, replacing the alert crouch of an animal with the poise of a human. She couldn't let herself become this... this thing!

Out of the corner of her eye, Lisa noticed that the door to the cabin was ajar. It was not hers to enter, but judging by its overgrown state, the actual owner had not been by very recently either. There probably wasn't even anything inside. So really, who would it hurt if Lisa were to slip through the door? She needed a roof over her head, just for a little while, just to feel human.

The door creaked as Lisa edged it open a little more. A floorboard creaked under her foot as she slipped inside.

The interior of the cabin was better furnished than she had expected. There was a small kitchen against one wall, a gas stove, sink and a bunch of cabinet. Against the other side was a bed, and on the adjacent wall to that, a dressing table and a tall closet. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. The cabin had clearly been inhabited by a woman, once upon a time.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Lisa began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. She found a full set of cutlery and china crockery, a small kettle and teapot, and even a working lighter. A couple of threadbare white towels lay under the sink.

In the dressing table drawers, she found combs, brushes, creams, lotions and makeups and other products. There were even a couple of small leg razors. It was as though the universe had placed this cabin in her path, both to remind her of her humanity and to help her reclaim it.

That was one way to look at it. Another way to look at it was that she had entered some woman's cabin without permission, gone through her things, and was now about to steal from her. The place looked pretty disused, but it was also very well stocked.

Lisa caught a glimpse of herself in the dressing table mirror and shuddered. She desperately needed this right now. She'd be careful not to break anything, or use too much of any of the product. Maybe she could find paper and pen and leave a note for the owner. She could leave her phone number and an offer of reimbursement.

Satisfied with her plan, Lisa grabbed one of the towels, reminding herself firmly that it was a towel and not an item of clothing. In the dressing table drawers, she had found conditioner and shampoo, as well as various body lotions. She picked out a selection of these. Armed with her towel and products, she exited the cabin and proceeded to the river.

Since she'd arrived in the forest, Lisa had bathed in the river fairly frequently, but this was the first time she'd been able to have something resembling a normal bath. She scrubbed her body, meticulously eliminating mud spots, and rubbed the conditioner into her scalp. She took her time and languished, the cool water feeling heavenly on her skin.

Once she was done, Lisa stepped out of the water and dried herself thoroughly with the towel. She was careful not to wrap it around herself at any point, instead rubbing it against her back and front separately. Once her body was dry, she tied her hair up in a towel turban and returned to the cabin.

Her reflection was greatly improved, but she wasn't done yet. Once inside the cabin, she sat down in front of the dressing table and turned her attention to her hair. She brushed it until all the knots had come out and combed it straight. This done, she rummaged through the drawers for a hairtie, finding a couple of black ones in a corner. She took one, snapped it against her palm, and used it to put her hair up in a ponytail. Now she was, in a very small way, clothed.

While she was here, it made sense to apply some light makeup as well. Lisa dabbed on some foundation, and made up her eyes. She was slowly starting to look like herself again. But there was still a bit more to do.

Lisa walked out to the porch, spread out a towel on the floor, and sat down on it. With one of the razors, she set to work removing unsightly hair. Armpits and legs were first. Then there was her pubic hair. Lisa decided that she'd just neaten it up. She swapped the razor for a pair of small scissors and trimmed the jungle until it was more of a neat triangular orchard—bikini ready!

For the final touch, she slipped her feet into a pair of black pumps she'd found behind the closet. It was nice to wear shoes again, at least for a little while.

Lisa lit the stove—so much easier with a lighter!—and made some tea, which she poured into a delicate china cup. She carried the cup and saucer out onto the porch and sat down with it at the table, sitting opposite the mirror.

The transformation was astonishing. The wild-eyed, hunching beast she'd seen before was replaced with a beautiful young lady, elegantly poised, sipping from a teacup. Her rich tan and the firmness and strength of her body only enhanced the image.

Nevertheless, it was an image more suited for copy of Playboy than of Vogue. There was a limit to how elegant and sophisticated a girl could look with her boobs and bush out.

Lisa's thoughts drifted to the wardrobe. It was the only place in the cabin she hadn't looked. Though she'd greatly enjoyed cleaning and beautifying herself, she had a practical reason for doing it—the desire not to walk back into town looking like a wild animal. Clothes were pretty essential to that goal. And she'd figured out how to wear them under the influence of the curse, even though doing so was pretty unpleasant.

There was little point in anything she'd done here if she wasn't also going to get some clothes to wear. She was already wearing this lady's shoes, so surely one outfit wouldn't hurt? If she explained in the note that she'd been naked, and was willing pay for the clothes, or return them, the lady would have to understand.

She wasn't sure how far she still had to walk, but she wouldn't try to wear clothes the whole way back. She could carry them most of the way, then get dressed once she reached city limits. Then she'd be able to flag down a taxi and get to her parents' house, where she could figure the rest out. She could even get her parents to help, if she could muster the energy to keep clothed that long, and make up something to tell them.

Her first priority was to contact the girls and find out what had happened to Debra. Everything else could wait until she did that.

Lisa finished her tea and walked back into the cabin. For a long moment, she stood motionless in front of the wardrobe, steeling herself to put on whatever was inside. The heavy wood structure towered above her, the wooden filigrees atop its door looking down at her like evil eyes. She hoped that the owner of the cabin was more into flowing dresses than lycra.

After a final deep breath in and out, Lisa gripped the handles of both doors and yanked them open.

From amidst the hanging coats and dresses, a freckled, bespectacled face under a mass of curly red hair smiled out at her with too many teeth.

It couldn't be. "W-Wendy?!" Lisa stammered.

"Look again."

Lisa blinked, and the freckles and glasses disappeared. The curly ginger mop was replaced by a silky auburn wave. Lisa was now looking up at a smooth face with a cruel smile that had haunted her nightmares.

"B-Bethany?!"

Bethany stepped out of the closet, forcing Lisa to stumble backwards. She was wearing a blue string bikini and stiletto heels. She'd be stunning if she weren't so evil, Lisa thought.

"Guess again, Nature Girl," said Bethany. She placed a hand on Lisa's shoulder, and began to change again, morphing and shifting in front of Lisa's eyes. She grew taller and her breasts larger. Her skin lost the freshness of youth and developed visible veins, but her figure retained its statuesque proportions. Her face grew older, crueler. Gray streaks appeared in her auburn hair.

Lisa stumbled back until her butt hit the wall, cowering in terror. "I-it's you!"

The woman who had been Wendy and then Bethany was now the witch from the boutique. The witch who had cursed Lisa to agonizing discomfort whenever she wore clothes. The witch who had woven her magic so intricately and so deeply that it withstood two countercurses. The witch who had zapped Debra. The witch who had been the source of all Lisa's pain. This witch now stood in front of her.

"I see you still haven't learned your lesson," said the witch. "Entering another's house uninvited, helping yourself to her belongings, wearing her makeup and her shoes."

"I-I'll put the shoes back!" Lisa cried, frantically pulling off one pump and then the other. Then, remembering the hair-tie, she pulled that off as well, and flung it towards the dressing table. "A-all done."

The witch glowered. "You'll do more than that. Had I not intervened, you would have helped yourself to the wardrobe as well."

Lisa's hair fell about her shoulders, and she looked down at her now-bare feet. "I was going to leave a note..." she muttered.

"A likely story. But perhaps you would like this bikini to cover your shame," said the witch, indicating her own body with her hands. "Would you like to take it now? Why not just steal the very clothes off my body?" She grabbed Lisa's right hand and wound the string of her bikini bottoms around the index finger. "Take it! Wear it!"

"AAAH!" Lisa cried out. It felt like her finger had been jammed between hot coals. She pulled her hand back with a violent jerk and blew on it. All clothing hurt her, but panties were the worst of all.

The witch smirked. "I didn't think so." She reached back into the wardrobe and took out a long purple dress, which she quickly pulled over her body. "Do up the back, would you?"

Compelled to obey, Lisa fastened the buttons on the back of the witch's dress.

"Now you will march."

Lisa's body turned around of its own accord, and stepped through the door of the cabin. Her movements were sudden and jerky, like she was being puppeteered, but she was powerless to stop them. The witch followed her.

Moving at a brisk pace, they returned to the river and continued following the course back to the city that Lisa had been pursuing. As they walked, control of Lisa's limbs slowly returned to her, but she dared not stop or even walk any slower.

"I see have been too hands-off with you, Lisa," said the witch. "Oh, I had great fun with Wendy and Bethany, watching you squirm at the power of my magic, but perhaps I should have taken a more direct approach. The youth of today clearly need things spelled out for them."

"I'm sorry I stole the top!" Lisa screamed. "It was a dare! I was a dumb teenager! Please, I can pay you!"

"It's far too late for that," the witch replied. "You showed your lack of remorse in today's preening session. And don't I don't know all about about your little break-in the other night."

Lisa was close to tears. "W-what did you do to Debra?"

"The little witchling is safe. I just ensured that she would... no longer interfere."

"What does that mean?!"

"Enough talk!" The witch turned to Lisa in a sudden rage and placed her finger across Lisa's lips, chanting in a familiar guttural tone.

Lisa felt a short, sharp pain in her throat. The witch removed her finger. She tried to ask what had been done to her, but the words didn't come.

"I've got the looks of Ariel, but the powers of Ursula," the witch said. "You'll get your voice back when you earn it."

Lisa screamed wordlessly.

"We go now to my home," continued the witch, ignoring her. "There, you may begin to repay your considerable debt to me."

A shudder traveled from Lisa's toes to her head, and the witch rested a cold hand on her shoulder. "If I return your voice, you may call me Lady Annabelle."

To be continued...