Chapter 5

“Nor would I. Which is why we must take our leave and get back to Rex Oceanus. There are more things to be learned. No need to get up. Please, exercise some rare, lady-like modesty and remain seated. Anne and Pamela, it has been a painfully enlightening day. If you must make girlish bets, loose proudly but in a more private setting than Trattoria Monica at Saturday brunch. I suggest you limit the stakes to something less distressing to my paternal sensibilities.”

Sadie, ignoring his pleas to stay seated, stood, curtseyed and stretched up to shake hands. It was more than the already stressed elastic of her thin, strapless bandeau top could handle. Snap! Zip! The titty band hit Sir Edward square in the face. Before the poor guy could react, Anne held out her hand, Sadie leapt up on a chair and stripped the slave girl toga over her head and off. Ms Smythe dropped it on the floor.

My little naked demon’s eyes opened wide. “Oops! Forgot the bottom. Sorry about that.” She squealed as her face turned scarlet. For once, she surprised even herself. But Sadie still spun in a circle, arms over her red hair, which is all the hair she had left. She nearly gave the staid Englishman a stroke.

Sir Edward, face redder than a stop light, gurgled something that might have been “Shameless woman! Oh My God! Bloody ‘ell!” spun and fled the room with his eyes covered, Sadie’s little bandeau wrapped around his neck. He is lucky not to have run into the wall. So much for the legendary stoic English composure. His shattered.

“Sadie Larson, you may sit down now. I think you have broken my delicate husband.”

“Can you fix him?”

“Edward is still under warranty and gets tune-ups as required.” Millicent grinned. “After we reboot his core processor and resume his conditioning, he should be almost as good as new in a few years. Perhaps a bit timid, wary even, around teenaged girls but mentally functional.”

“I really did forget the bikini bottom, Lady Millicent. The rest was just finishing the dare. I was just trying to show some respect to His Sirhood.”

“You showed him a lot more than your respect, you little imp. If I understand the rules of the game, you must remain naked. Enjoy the afternoon being window shopped.” Millicent smiled warmly. “Ted Charles, be good to my girls and keep them safer than they want to be. Anne and Pam, do what Mr. Charles tells you, not so much his daughter, Laurie, even though she willingly pays her gambling losses quite attractively. Take care of yourselves and we will talk later.”

“You worry too much, Mummy. Ted takes very good care of us all. You should worry about him.” Pamela smiled big. “He’s extremely good. We’re good to him, too.”

Mummy looked intently her daughters. “Exactly how good were you?”

Both beamed. Time to let the cat out of the bag. Pamela said, “Way above good, even for beginners, but in ways that would cause Poppa’s head to explode. Mummy, it was incredible!”

Anne answered in a stage whisper. “Quite good, actually, and with more fun practice, better. Same as any team sport. Don’t tell Poppa yet. He thinks we’re still little girls. You know how much he hates to be wrong. We are so very not his little girls anymore.”

“He will not hear a word from me. Anyway, what’s done is done. You chose well. I believe it’s better to share a keeper than have a loser all to yourself. Ted appears to be a gem. Smart, self-made, unpretentiously wealthy, generous and protective wrapped in an attractive package. Many girls are not half so lucky, not the first time, not ever. At least be careful and enjoy your life. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

“Enjoy? I think your wish is granted. He left me a boneless, giggling mess and carefully did the same to Anne. And did us both again later!” Pam gushed. “You never told us about that part.”

“There is a lot I haven’t told you. Some things you have to find out on your own. There is a lot for all of us to discover.”

Whoa! What was she really saying? This was getting surreal, beyond candid. At least I was getting good reviews.

Anne responded, “But she did say that anything worth doing is worth doing right, Pammie, and we were well and rightly done.”

Millicent seemed OK with the changes in her daughters. “I also said ‘practice makes perfect’, but, please, exercise some restraint.”

“You never mentioned restraints, Mummy.” Pamela giggled. “Kinky. Tell us more.”

“Are you holding out on us? What she said, details.”

“Hush! I never said such a thing! Since you asked, Margaret has mentioned padded cuffs once or twice and Sarah is not opposed to extreme cosplay. Perhaps I favor a combination, but you did not hear that from me! I really, really must go now before I say too much.”

Too much? As if the Lady Millicent hadn’t said more than enough already. Jeez. I was right there in the room.

Twin style, “You take care of Poppa.” Pamela and Anne hugged her tightly. “Your cousins will give poor daddy an aneurysm. He will be in therapy for years.”

“Professional help couldn’t hurt but I think the three of us can give it the old college try.” It was Millicent’s turn to shock. “Once we apply the right medicine he responds to treatment as expected. Yes, dears, we. Team sports.”

Evidently too much was not enough. I can’t imagine I was supposed to hear this. Then again, they weren’t whispering.

Tara, worried about letting an opportunity slip away, asked, “Lady Millicent, is there a chance we are related? Our father is a Pendragon and the name is not very common.”

“We do look a little alike.” Dara added, “The parts we can see are a lot alike.”

“Dear, I wonder the same. The parts you can’t see are too. Pamela can access our online genealogy and see what she can find. Talk to her. I’ll be available if you have questions.” She brightened suddenly. “But you look similar to me and I’m not a Pendragon. How much do you know of your line?”

“Only that father is James Norfolk Pendragon, the VI, and the name appears on an early Nineteenth Century ship’s manifest in Savannah.” Dara supplied. “We think it was military and sailed from Cornwall, but don’t know if he was the original or the second.”

“It was named ‘Saturn’s Revenge’ or something like that.” Tara finished.

“It gives our search a starting point. It might have been a pinnacle or sloop. We’ve used that name before or something similarly themed, for our slave interdiction vessels. Foul business. Do the names ‘Anderson or Montgomery’ appear in your mother’s family, perhaps from Denmark?”

“Our Grandmother was Astrid Anderson, but she passed away years before we were born.” Dara said, “More than that, we don’t know.”

“Anne and Pamela, you log on to the family site through the secure servers at the bank. Start with known Pendragons between 1750 and 1850. I will search the Montgomery Trading Company records for references.” Lady Millicent stood. “But I really must go now. There are nefarious plots to uncover. And a father to resuscitate.” She grinned at me, rolled her eyes and nodded slightly. Acceptance or green light?

With a cheery wave, she was gone for the day. “Well now. That was unexpected! It was harder than I thought to be tits-out in front of Poppa.” Pamela giggled. “But they took it better than I thought. Especially Mummy!”

“Once committed, we do have to brazen it out. Stuffy and proper Poppa at best found an ‘acceptable’ rationalization for us being nearly naked. Sadie must have been a fright.” Anne giggled. “I can’t picture him caught out of his bathers at the coast. Mummy’s smoking hot cousins, on the other side of the coin, would dare ‘Millie’ to strip off with them and dash through Trafalgar Circus for a laugh.”

“After seeing her not-so-scandalized face today, I believe she would take the dare.” Pamela laughed out loud. “Mummy might make us proud. She isn’t hard to look at. Mummy takes after us.”

Tara said, “Perhaps we are distant Anderson or Montgomery cousins, Pamela. Similar looks, similar build, and similar reaction to a challenge are good signs. Plus, we have the vague ‘Pendragon’ connection to your dad’s history.”

“That would be cool. Pammie is a little taller and your tits are a little bigger, but within the margin of error.” Anne smiled. “How big are your mother’s Scandinavian boobs?”

“Can you say “Jessica Rabbit’? ‘Laura Croft’ times two?” Tara howled. “They affect the tides.”

“Gigantic, cartoon boobs! We are lucky to inherit mere ‘C+’ tits.” Dara really laughed. “If her feet weren’t so big, she would need help staying upright. Her tits need a walker! Am I exaggerating, Daddy Ted?”

“Not in the least. If her arms were shorter, Tammy couldn’t drive. Those boobs would tangle in the steering wheel. A bit generous for my taste though. I’m quite pleased with the ones I see now.”

“Oh, daddy. You’re so sweet to us.” Kiddo commented sincerely. “But be sweeter and take us shopping. The water park will have to wait. We have nefarious girls to cover!”

Monica, in an attack of civic responsibility, spoke up. “Ladies! As much as it appeals to my sense humor, I cannot let you parade yourselves through my village in this condition on a Saturday afternoon. Very few families are like yours. Not all young people are as bold. Rarely are parents’ attitudes here so liberal with respect to their children’s public exposure as ours.”

She softened her voice and continued, “The streets here are not ‘clothing optional’. You can and will be apprehended if complaints are heard. Mug shots are in the public record. That will happen today. After dark the authorities, after looking carefully, will look the other way. Indoors at any time is no one’s business.”

“I understand, Dona Monica, but that puts us in a delicate position. Our current clothing options are limited because of the choices they intentionally made this morning.” I smiled at the position into which the little flashers had placed themselves. “Several of my new daughters have no other choice. For instance, Sadie has no panties and her top left the building with Sir Edward. The little dresses expose one breast and the other is covered by a transparent suggestion of fabric.”

“I may have a solution, Don Theodore. Give me one of those unlimited emergency charge cards.” Monica addressed the sixteen naked and semi-clad teenagers. “Pile your remaining clothes on the table, and stand on the chairs. I need to see exactly what I have to work with.” Her imperious expression allowed no hesitation.

The girls were on the impromptu pedestals in seconds. “Very good. Feet apart, arms behind your backs.” She strolled around casually, taking names and making notes on a note pad for minutes. The girls, for the most part, were less than casual. The idea of getting arrested made them jumpy. Being naked in the dining room on display for anyone to see didn’t help.

“You may take a seat but you are not to redress. You may keep the necklaces, but all other jewelry comes off. I will return within the hour.” With that she was gone, the exit door was closed and we were alone again.

“Where do you think she went?” Petra asked in a small voice. “We’re even more exposed than before and in a town that doesn’t allow it.”

“We could stay here until after dark and run for the bus.” Stephanie happily replied. “Six of us did just that Thursday night after fucking Ted lots of times in every way on stage at Club Massimo.”

“That was exciting and great fun, but we didn’t know any better.” Anne countered. “The streets are not going to be empty on a weekend and the authorities might do more than look.”

“Not with her nieces in the group.” Gina giggled. “That would make the Dona very unhappy. No one wants that.”

“Mummy would put the mug shots in her scrapbook or make prints for the great room ancestors’ wall, probably both. Poppa would swallow his tongue and crawl into a hole because we were naked in public, but moreso because we got caught by the police, everybody will know and see our bare tits on the Internet.”

“You have to admit your tits are quite nice. Even your Poppa said so!” Jane blurted.

“Do you think Momma would see them in Texas? Bernard and Doreen would die of humiliation and then send the West Texas Spiritual Enforcers after me.” Steph grinned with a shrug. “To me, it is no big deal other than that. Thursday night at the Club, I got naked, spanked and lost all three cherries and then had sex with five girls in front of a crowd, then got fucked every way possible for the camera and ran naked through the streets. Call me jaded, but a mug shot on the Internet is no big whoop in comparison. Not that I want it to happen, but it won’t be the end of the world unless my terminally ultra pseudo-religious parents see it and send the goons to take me back to hell.”

That was followed by a general discussion of parental reactions. “The way things stand now, Daddy’s opinion is all that counts. He is the our official parent of record. The Cape people lost the right to object to anything. Lady Millicent ordered Anne and Pamela to do as he says, Stephie can’t be extradited for flashing, and the Gamboas will probably get over it if Dona Monica tells them to. I rather think their mothers expect it sooner or later. Not the arrest, but the behavior. Look where they live!” Laurie summarized.

“I hope their fathers react better than ours.” Anne said. “If he knew where we took our first dick, he really would have a seizure.”

“Rocco and Vito are reluctant realists.” Carla admitted. “They won’t celebrate, they won’t look, but they won’t freak out too much either.”

“The mug shots might just ‘go away’, too. Senior Gamboas have long and persuasive arms.” Marta added.

Laurie wasn’t finished. “Daddy popped Sadie’s and my pussy and ass cherries at the resort on Wednesday and did us both again lots of times on stage, Thursday. That was after having Pamela, Anne, Stephanie and Jane! Yesterday, I fucked him until I fainted and loved it. And I’m proud of every minute. Pops is not likely to be bothered by a mug shot or two. Life in school will be different, though.”

All the Gamboa girls cracked up.

“What’s so funny, ladies? Spill it.” Janie asked. “You didn’t even see our stage debut. Or the encores. Or the curtain call.”

“Other than bragging about sucking your clit while her big-dicked Daddy assfucked you? Yeah, we heard.” Carla laughed harder. “Laurie’s a regular riot. But she’s right about our parents.”

“Hey! The audience liked it.” Jane argued. “We got a standing ‘O’. Good times.”

“Correction. I had a standing ‘O’. The adoring crowd merely clapped and shouted.” Anne pointed out with a grin.

“We have an even stranger situation.” Isabella answered. “Remember that little cathedral church we passed just north of here? It’s the Convent of The Sisters of Blessed Serenity.”

“It sounds nice. How is that funny or strange?” Laurie wondered. “Or do they mean the incontinence pads?”

“It is where the Holy See sends nuns with anger management issues for reconditioning. The ones who punish school kids too severely or who fly into righteous rages at the sight of the slightest transgression. There have been more than a few who recommend capital punishment be considered in the confessional. There is a picture of the Marquis de Sade in the fellowship hall. They pray to him for tech support.” Isabella grinned a silly smile. “And the rest of them are just damn Linda Blair, turntable head, insane.”

Stephanie shuddered. “I thought the Primitive Evangelical Fundamentalist Pentecostals were tough. Them some badass penguins!”

“They get day passes on the weekend to wander among the unsuspecting for ‘acceptance and patience’ orientation practice in the real world. Some slip away from the observers and have been known to go a little overboard.” Marta warned. “Don’t make eye contact. Stay out of reach.”

“The little airy sundresses Laurie, Sadie and the Smythe twins wore that Thursday morning would have given some of them apoplexy. I know the fabric wasn’t totally transparent, but you could see the shape of everything and actually see everything if you were back lit.” Gina advised, “For us sneaky shy show-offs, it was positively demure and modest. To the loony nuns, we would be shameless naked harlots.”

“I call Papal Bull! Those crazy dried up bitches needed a thorough fucking or three before they ever took their vows of chastity! No wonder they’re nuts.” The new voice in the room snorted. “Some days I believe the sinmates have taken over the asylum and eaten the real therapists.”

Monica was back. “Ignore them. Or call the police. Let them deal with a public disturbance. That’s what we pay them for.” She passed out small, labeled bundles to the girls. “You will wear these while shopping. Fashionably daring, but ought to pass community standards for summer casual dress. The nuns will hate them.”

The bundles contained small white purses with silver shoulder chains and a neatly folded bit of cloth. My girls opened and inspected the little fitted pullovers. Monica had chosen spaghetti strapped, extremely thin, white dresses made of a cotton jersey-like material. Closer inspection showed it to be some non-woven fiber, like a super soft, parchment-thin Pelon® or a very peculiar thickish molecular film. I pictured the demented cousin the Saran Wrap® family hid in the basement when company came to visit.

The little cover-ups were form-fitted, perhaps a little snug up top, clearly defined the girls’ waists and flared slightly to just above the knees.

I could easily see the color of their nipples. Strong back lighting would reveal bare pussies, but otherwise they were adequately covered below the waist. I judged them to be on the very edge but not totally over the line. Commando was the mode of the day.

Monica gave each girl a silver ID bracelet to match their necklaces. The wide plaque was engraved with the girl’s name in the middle, the Gamboa Crest on one end and my initials in a circle at the other. “Wear these. Hang your tit pendants from the ring by the fastener.” She was not one to use euphemisms when giving orders. Once the girls had the jewelry to her satisfaction, she explained. “Those who recognize our crest won’t care how you are dressed. Those who don’t know the symbol don’t count. The silver repels vampires.”

Dona Monica returned the card. “If you get the chance, thank the Cassidys for their generosity, for the clothing and for the outrageous and inappropriate gratuities at breakfast. Emergencies come in all shapes and sizes, or so my counsel that has advised. This situation qualified.”

I checked each girl individually again. They were miles past sexy. While judging the cozy fit on Tara’s titties and appreciating her responsive pink nipples, I noticed something intriguing. Repeating the experiment on the others, and incidentally creating a room full of panting girls, I confirmed my suspicions.

This was more alien technology masquerading as clothing. Pulling the fabric away from Tara’s tits not only seemed to make the ‘cloth’ more transparent, it caused the waist to cinch in, accentuating the shape and first curves of her narrow hips. Pressing her waist tighter, as if my hands were a belt, loosened the top.

The fabric ‘wanted’ the volume inside the slightly tubular top to be a constant. Useful characteristic?

I tried the opposite on Lindy. After getting her nipples stony hard, I pulled the fabric away from her waist on both sides. The upper part tried to contract unsuccessfully. Less firm tits than Lindy sported would have been compressed. The cloth shrank on the sides and back where it could, but became nearly sheer where stretched over her boobs.

OK, so the fabric couldn’t ‘cope’ with non-standard shapes. A nearly oblate waist was one thing. Boobs projecting from a side-back-side semi-oval ‘confused’ it. The cloth contracted around the regular curve and stretched over the other. Or something akin to that. Close to, but not exactly, a 3-D seesaw. The effect was enchanting when combined with hard-nippled firm boobs.

“I would offer a small piece of advice you may take or leave as you wish. Perspiration is not your friend. Nor is excessive air conditioning. In either eventuality, you will have no secrets. In the first case, you will find yourself in a wet tee shirt contest as the favorite. In the other, your already visible nipples might cut their way free.”

Brilliant textile technology, I approved whole-heartedly. “Tell me about this cloth. Are my cautions wrong?”

“No, just not strong enough. It will tear with effort, but do try not to perspire. Your space agency had this created as space suit lining but the astronauts sweat too much working outside. This ‘space wear’ as we call it was supposed to wick moisture away, but soon dissolved instead. I do not know the saturation point, but it will eventually liquefy. It will most certainly become easier to tear before then.”

“You have access to NASA? How so?”

“It is of no value to the spacemen, so the manufacturer sold the patent cheap. Rocco bought it and we found lots of uses. Water switches and detectors, costumes, timed release, temporary bindings, plastic molds, many profitable uses. Even sexy little good weather beach wear.”

I laughed, “You might get away with a little ‘glow’, but if it rains, you’re starkers?”

“Correct.” Monica smiled. “Planning ahead, the Cassidys prudently purchased three extra dresses for such emergencies. They are all ‘B’s for girls around 150 or 155 centimeters (4’11” to 5’1”) tall. That was all we had in stock, so if what Don Theodore said matters, you taller or more buxom girls might or might not want to be careful.”

An idea was forming in the depths of my hindbrain. I needed more clues. “Dona Monica. Is there a chance you have somewhere on the premises a regular girl’s belt, hair dryer and water mister? The kind of sprayer a sunbather might use will do. Maybe borrow a dryer from the employee changing area?”

Isabella answered, “If you wish, Aunt Monica, I have all three in my locker.”

“That will do. Go. What are you thinking, Signore Charles?” Monica said as Isabella left the room.

“A test of both the fabric and the fit. I will need to risk some of the dresses. Cindy, put on Sadie’s dress. That’s a ‘B+’ in a “B”. Gina, put on one of the extras. A good ‘C’ set in a ‘B’ dress. Marta, give Jane yours. That gives us a ‘C’ in a ‘B-” fit. For our ‘C+’ in a ‘C’, Dara wears Gina’s original dress.” I smiled. “Sadie and Marta will remain naked until we see how this little experiment goes.”

It also left Dara’s, Sadie’s and Jane’s dresses on the table, plus the other two extras. I saw four reasons not to bring that up.

The girls, with an effort, managed to get in the too small dresses. The tops did stretch enough to fit, but were very, very ‘see through’. Jane needed help, serious help. She, once the girls were stuffed in, could barely inhale.

“Are these OK, Don Theodore?” Isabella was back with the testing supplies. I immediately gave the belt to Ms Cassidy/Charles.

“Tighten this as much as you can. It will make the top expand enough to be more comfortable.” I offered, “The field tests begin with you. Isabella, where is the nearest place to plug in the dryer?”

Monica, instead, spoke. “There by the door. I’ll do the honors.” She was catching on. “Isabella, stand by, you’re next. Proper fit, no undue stress.”

The rest of us followed her.

“It’s almost OK now, Daddy Ted.” Jane said. “This is weird stuff. The belt loosened the top and the cloth is still stretching. Gets thinner, but not nearly so tight. What are you planning?”

“You’ll see.” I lightly misted the back and sides to see if the fabric relaxed and lost its geometry before it dissolved. “How’s it feel, Janie?”

“A lot better. It might slip down if the little straps weren’t holding it up.” She reasoned, “It gets more stretchy when it gets damp. Cool.”

“Dona Monica, when I dampen the front, start drying the back on my mark.” She turned the blower on medium and pointed it at the floor. “Jane, place your palms together at chin level and press them together. Isometrics. Hold it until I tell you to relax.”

The action firmed and lifted her titties slightly. Using the finest mist I could dial in, I moistened Janie’s boobs, taking care to keep a thin strip between dry and the area just below damp but drier than the rest of her chest. “OK, Dona. The dryer please.” As the fabric softened its grip, her lovelies returned to their natural naked shape.

“The back is almost dry now, Theodore. The cloth is beginning to act normal, like before it got wet. What next?”

“Leave it a little damp so it will stretch. Begin drying the front, saving her boobs for last. Isabella, gradually loosen the belt and let the top contract.” I instructed, “Dona, when the belt is off, start drying the rest. Janie dear, you can relax now. Clasp your hands behind your back. Shoulders back. Good girl.”

“Dona Monica. Please finish the sides when the front is nearly dry.” The dryer was fast. It did not take as long as I thought. “Now, the back again.”

Less than ten minutes had produced a dress that looked like it was sprayed on from the waist up. As expected, the fabric over her tummy and between her tits recovered its unique properties first and pulled closer to her chest. The wetter, pliable area was molded around her boobs, without compression, like a second skin. It reminded me of a super sexy gymnast’s leotard. Jane’s cute nipples were more visible and clearly defined, but the opacity of the space age fabric was about 75% of what it was before except at the back, which was noticeably semi-transparent.

“Is it as comfortable as the dress you had before?” I asked, “Can you move around without being squeezed?”

“It fits perfect.” She jumped, bent and twisted her body, dancing in place for a moment. “Better than the one before, kind of like a bra that you can’t feel, but keeps your titties from bouncing all over the place. It stretches differently I think.”

“Can you take it off and put it on without scissors?” Monica inquired. “Try pushing the top down first, then sliding the whole garment past your waist to the floor.”

Jane took it off with ease and put it back on. “That was not as hard as I thought. The top shrank when the waist stretched over my hips, but I had plenty of room to push it down. It won’t work if I try to dress from the top down, because it won’t pass my shoulders.” She giggled. “Squeezing my boobs through that tiny circle is not an option.”

I had a thought. “Does the trattoria have a place that is always hot and dry? Is there a space where the ovens are always on maybe or a proofing room where you can reduce the humidity?”

“I have a baking area where we vent the heat out so the rest of the kitchen is tolerable. The cooks walled it off to make the air conditioning work. Will that do?” She answered with a grin. “Isabella can show you. I’m too old to take it anymore.”

“Thanks. Sadie, you and Marta can dress in the two other extra dresses if you wish. Jane, stay as you are. Cindy, Gina and Dara, come with us. Isabella, lead on.” I kept the spritzer. “Time for a little natural tailoring.”

She led us out a second door, through a bustling kitchen and into the isolated ‘baking room’. “Turn off the vent, dear. I’m trying for a dry sauna effect.” She flipped a switch and the room got very warm, very fast.

I proceeded to spray each girl in the same manner I did Jane: quite damp in back, a little more on the sides and wetter in the bust, especially the underboob. “Now, everyone get as close as you can stand to the ovens and dry the front almost all the way. Leave it damp and then dry the sides and the back last. Keep your hands on top of your head until you do the back. Don’t rush it and don’t get burned.”

The effect was nearly the same as before. Shape-wise, the girls had no secrets and their visible nipples were more pronounced because they hardened while the cloth was wettest and most cooperative. Again the front was a touch more revealing and the back nearly transparent. Isabella’s dress reshaped the same way even though it began the session fitting the best. Her ‘C+’ tits were slightly less visible than the others, but more obvious than before. Her dress had more to magically redistribute as it adjusted. Rocket surgery has its uses and limitations.

Only an idiot, prude or the deranged would complain. Unfortunately, the world has an over supply in every category. Applied science is not for everyone.

The fabric seemed to be quite adaptable, if not marginally schizophrenic. It responded like weak shrink wrap when wet and drying, then reverted back to the constant volume personality, but with less enthusiasm. Strange and wonderful stuff, indeed. Humidity and perspiration, over time, would gradually duplicate our results in the real world. We controlled the variables in our ‘lab’. For girls not privy to our knowledge, it would happen naturally. Without deliberate targeted application of drying heat, high-tension places would become considerably more transparent over time, probably more than I allowed today.

The garment did carry a stern warning label. ‘Important! To preserve the fabric, never expose to water. Not designed for vigorous exercise. Avoid excessive humidity. Dry clean only.’ What is ‘excessive’ humidity? Lacking that definition, the average unsuspecting buyer would neither expect nor be immediately aware of small incremental changes, slowly becoming unconsciously self-conditioned to reveal more and more. Those lucky enough to be around her would see a girl apparently becoming bolder and less inhibited. The gradual erosion of modesty was inevitable, the accumulated changes accepted bit-by-bit and integrated into her comfort zone during repeated wearing. In the end, it actually wouldn’t matter how, it would just be.