Chapter 2: Unwell

An olive green streak burst through the dormitory entrance and shot towards the staircase. It was Lisa, back from lectures, the soles of her bare feet propelling her towards her room. Her face was flushed red from discomfort and her breath was hard and ragged. Her dress flowed out behind her as she ascended two steps at a time, dodging confused bystanders and ignoring their indignant cries. She needed to be in her room now. Or else she might ... she tried not to think about it.

Finally, she reached her room. With shaking hands, she fumbled her key into the lock and turned it. The door opened, and she slipped inside, slamming it behind her. As the lock clicked, her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress and she hoisted it violently over her head and threw it across the room, as though it were a poisonous snake. The olive fabric hit a wall and fell into a crumpled pile among a host of blouses, jackets, sweaters and pants.

Lisa leaned against a wall, chest rising and falling with her breathing, redness slowly draining from her face.

“Uuh ... hi?”

Redness instantly returned to Lisa’s face as she finally noticed her roommate Shelly, who had been quietly lying on her bed reading a book, but was now gaping at her totally naked body. Lisa squealed and covered herself with her arms.

Looking even more embarrassed than Lisa felt, Shelly tried to return her gaze to her book. But clearly the writing of Jane Austen could not out-compete the novelty of her naked roommate, as much as she obviously didn’t want to violate Lisa’s privacy.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Lisa shrieked and dove for her bed, hiding herself underneath the covers. From her huddled position, she heard Shelly get up and open the door.

“Hi,” said a girl’s voice. “Do you know a blonde girl who doesn’t wear shoes? She left this behind in one of her lectures, and I saw her walking this way. I stay on the floor below.”

“Y-yes,” Shelly replied. “She’s my roommate. Thanks, I’ll give this to her.”

The girl said goodbye, and Lisa heard the door close and the lock click. She tentatively poked her head above the covers to see Shelly holding her book-bag, a quizzical look on her face.

Shelly cleared her throat and said, “Uh, guess you forgot about this in your hurry to get home and, uh ... strip.” She placed the book-bag on Lisa’s desk.

Lisa hid her face beneath the bedcover again, and the room was silent for a long moment.

“You can go get your dress, I won’t look.”

Lisa peeked above the bedcover again. Shelly was standing in the middle of the room with a hand over her eyes.

But the sight of the crumpled olive fabric in the corner of the room made the bile rise in Lisa’s throat. The other clothes that lay strewn around it had the same effect. Being naked in front of Shelly was mortifying, but she couldn’t face the idea of putting clothes back on right now. Not after a full day of suffocating lectures. Even the bedclothes felt like they were strangling her.

She needed to recover. So she screwed up her courage and tossed the bedclothes aside, feeling instantly better as the cool air touched her skin. Instead of fetching her dress, she walked to her desk and plonked her butt down on the swivel chair in front of it, making its hinges squeak.

“Are you decent yet?” Shelly asked, dutifully keeping her hand in front of her face.

Lisa sighed inwardly. Ever since the morning she’d woken up without her nightgown, it had become increasingly difficult to hide her condition from Shelly, especially as it seemed to be worsening. That day, she’d made it through a whole morning of lectures in jeans and a sweater, despite mild discomfort. But every day since then, she’d needed to wear progressively looser and lighter clothing. Jeans had been swapped for baggy shorts, then skirts, and cute blouses replaced with baggy t-shirts. Three days ago, she’d found herself unable to put on any kind of footwear, and had strolled across campus barefoot. Finally, for the last two days, she had attended lectures in this ugly olive dress from the back of her closet, and even then she’d had to dip into a bathroom stall multiple times during the morning to take it off. If this kept up, soon she wouldn’t be capable of wearing any clothing at all.

Right now, she needed some time to decompress before she could face clothes again. And ultimately, trying to hide her condition from Shelly was a losing battle. There was no way she could keep a secret like this from her roommate. Especially not after she’d whipped of a dress in front of her.

“No, I’m not,” said Lisa, her voice cracking. “But it’s okay, you can open your eyes.”

Shelly clasped her face tighter. “Please, Lisa, put some clothes on.”

“I can’t.”

At this, Shelly’s dropped her hand, eyes still closed. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

Lisa bit her lip, pressed her thighs together and folded her arms across her chest. “It’s ... I think there’s something wrong with me, Shelly. It’s like I’m allergic to clothes, or something. I’ve been like this for a week, and it’s getting worse.”

Slowly, Shelly opened her eyes, and Lisa caught her gaze. She must have looked a pathetic figure just then, red-faced and wrapped around herself.

Shelly’s expression softened. “That ... would explain some things. I was wondering why you weren’t wearing shoes anymore. Or bras, for that matter.”

Lisa blushed. “It was that obvious, huh?”

“Well, it’s more obvious now,” Shelly replied, with an aborted giggle.

“I don’t want to be like this, Shelly,” said Lisa, swallowing the beginnings of a sob. “I’m not a nudist or a flasher or anything weird like that! Being naked in front of you is really embarrassing for me, but putting on clothes makes me feel like I’m actually dying! It really sucks!”

“I understand,” said Shelly, looking away from Lisa. “Well, not fully, but I sympathize. I mean, I don’t know what that’s like, but it must be horrible.”

“It is.” Lisa slumped against the back of her chair, her arms falling at their sides. She figured that she may as well get used to exposing herself to Shelly. “I don’t know how it happened, and I don’t know how long it’s going to last. But it’s going to be difficult to go out in public with this condition.” At this she turned her chair to face Shelly and looked her straight in the eyes. “I-I’m going to need your help, Shelly.”

Shelly held her gaze and nodded vigorously, moving a little closer to Lisa. “I’ll do anything I can.” The intensity with which Shelly held Lisa’s gaze scared Lisa a little.

True to her word, Shelly was prepared to do anything to help her roommate. This included keeping her comfortable and productive now that she was unable to leave their room for extended periods, as well as working on ways to cure her strange illness.

The window blinds in their room were now permanently drawn, to avoid prying eyes. Even on the third floor, one couldn’t be too careful. Shelly smuggled canteen food for Lisa into their dorm room and took careful notes in all of her lectures, and coordinated with their mutual friends to cover subjects that Lisa took and she didn’t. She was vague about Lisa’s condition, mostly telling people that her roommate just needed some time away from the world. Her own personal lockdown, like they’d had to do a few years before for COVID.

Lisa left only to visit the bathroom and take showers, wrapped in a towel. But her condition was worsening. Even a fairly loose towel was now making her feel the same as a tight clothing did. Inside the room, she was completely naked all of the time, even sleeping on top of her bed rather than under its suffocating covers.

Shelly was less successful at curing Lisa’s condition than she was at helping to manage it, though not for lack of trying. One afternoon, she and Lisa tried investigating the effects of different fabrics.

“No, I can’t wear these silk pajamas of yours either,” Lisa said, sadly pulling down the purple pants Shelly had lent her. “I feel like I’m being squeezed to death by a really smooth snake. But apart from that they’re lovely!”

“That’s polyester, cotton, canvas, hemp, wool, denim, leather, spandex, velvet, mohair and now ... silk,” said Shelly, crossing the last item off the checklist on her clipboard. “I’m starting to think this might not be about the type of fabric.”

“Maybe not,” said Lisa flatly, her shoulders slumping. She looked forlornly at the large pile of discarded clothing on the bed beside her. The mere sight of clothing did not repulse her, nor did handling. But when she contemplated wearing it, she began to shake, and when she put it on, all of her various symptoms returned.

Bed-sheets, blankets and towels were similar. Touching them or lying on top of them, she was fine, but when they encased her, she could think of nothing but throwing them off.

Another day, the girls investigated tightness. It appeared to make some small difference. Lisa could barely get a pair of yoga pants halfway up her thighs before she needed to rip them off, but she could last a while longer in a loose, light sundress or large t-shirt.

“Interesting,” said Shelly, taking down some notes as an over-sized shirt flew past her head. “Now let’s look at coverage.”

With some considerable effort, Lisa pulled on her most conservative underwear. Granny panties and a full-cupped bra.