For Want of a Mask

The room beyond was a standard public office, with rows of ancient chairs against the walls, and a few snaking mazes of stanchions leading to windows, behind which bored government employees sat. Angela's entry raised a few murmurs from these individuals, but no-one rushed out to help her.

Thankfully, there were no lines, or indeed anyone present other than the place's staff. Angela walked over to the first window and greeted the woman behind it. The woman's eyes betrayed a very slight spark of life, but she said nothing.

"I'm here about some clothes," Angela said, feeling ridiculous.

"I can see that," the woman replied, her eyes traveling slowly up and down Angela's body. "This counter's for footwear needs, you'll want the next one."

While Angela did have some footwear needs, they were not her most pressing concern just then. She thanked the lady and moved to the next counter, which was staffed by another, almost identical lady.

"Hello, I need some clothes," Angela said.

"You need more than I can give you. This counter's for tops, you'll want the next one over."

"I don't have a top."

"Yes, I can see that. You don't have anything. Next counter."

Angela sighed and move to the next counter, which was staffed by a fat, bald man, who licked his lips as she approached. Angela shuddered, and said, again, "Hello, I need some clothes."

"This counter's for bottoms. You're looking for whole outfits, next one over. Can't have ladies running around topless."

"Really? But it's fine to have them run around naked, like you're making me do?"

The man smiled. "We're here to help, but you need to follow procedure. It's the only way to get it right."

Angela moved to the next counter, where she found a bright, smiling young lady with red hair and sparkling blue eyes. She wore a lovely tan blouse and blue mini-blazer. Her name-tag read "Kate". She seemed far too alive for this place, and closer to Angela's age than any of the others.

"Hello there," said Kate, a sympathetic look on her face as she looked Angela up and down. "You look like you've been through a lot today. But you've come to the right place."

Angela sighed in deep relief. "Thank you. Please, tell me what I have to do to get some clothes."

Kate leaned on her counter and pointed towards a desk in the corner of the room. "Grab a copy of form 3A, fill it in with your details and bring it back to me. That'll be enough for us to kick things off."

"This seems like an awful lot of admin for a naked girl who just needs something to cover herself. Can't you just give me something to wear? At least something temporary, like a gown?"

A musical peal of laughter escaped Kate's lips. "Oh honey, this is a government department. We'll do our best for you, but we just don't have the resources to give out temporary gowns to all comers."

Angela scowled. "But the sign outside literally says that you will give clothes out to all comers!"

"All comers who follow the process," corrected Kate. "We need some information from you so that we can allocate you the right clothes, tailored to your needs. Well, not literally tailored, but you get my meaning."

Angela had a vision of Tammy's bedroom. Was this just going to be a boring, drawn-out and bureaucratic version of that? She hoped not.

"Form 3A," repeated Kate. "Come now, you must be getting cold."

"Yes, I am," Angela said between gritted teeth, before slinking off the find the form.

The desk in the corner of the room had a few scattered papers on it, one of which appeared to be a dog-eared, faded copy of Form 3A, Full Outfit Application for Totally Naked Individuals (TNIs). That described her pretty well. She grabbed the pen in her right hand and leaned over to fill in the form, left arm still covering her breasts. Her lower body was by necessity exposed, with her rump protruding. She tried to tune out the low whispers of the place's employees and pretend that they weren't all looking at her.

The pen took a few tried before any ink came out of it, and the little boxes on the form were the smallest she'd ever seen. Face screwed up with concentration, she slowly filled in her personal details. There didn't appear to be another copy of Form 3A, and if she screwed this one up they'd probably send her bare ass packing. Kate would act apologetic about it though.

Name, surname, nationality, sex, age, address, contact details, favorite color... past the personal details section, the questions on the form got a bit strange. In addition to her favorite color, it asked where her favorite place to do clothes shopping was and what her monthly clothing budget was. Sensing a trap, she filled in N/A for the first and $0 for the second. Didn't need them deciding she didn't qualify for help just because she wasn't usually naked.

It also asked when last she'd been to a nudist beach (truthfully: never) and if she'd participated in any orgies over the last month (gross!). She filled in "none" for fabric allergies, checked "No" next to "Do you suffer from vestiphobia or related phobias?" and put an even bigger check on "No" next to "Do you feel comfortable in your own skin?"

The last question on the form read, "For how long have you been without clothes?" Angela glanced around the room and spotted a wall clock. The time was almost 3pm. Her hairdresser's appointment had been at 7am. "8 hours", she wrote, and it made her want to cry.

Angela sniffed and put the pen aside. She picked up the form and held it against her front, using her free hand to cover the butt that baldy had been making lewd comments about the whole time she'd been writing. Probably thought she couldn't hear them, but the prolonged humiliation of public nudity had heightened all her senses. She felt every gust of wind, heard every low whisper and shocked gasp. She saw every look of disgust, disapproval and pity.

"Here you go," said Angela to Kate, pushing the form through the gap under the glass.

"Thank you, Angela," replied Kate, smiling beautifully. "And might I just say, I love what you've done with your hair."

Angela coiled a strand around her finger. "I've certainly paid for it today."

Kate scanned over the form, turned it around to look at the other side, and then nodded. "This all looks in order," she said. "Please take a seat, and I'll call you when we've finished processing."

Kate smiled and disappeared from the window.

Angela walked over to a row of chairs against the wall and sat down on one, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest. She glanced over the room. The people behind the windows all had their heads down, pretending to do something, ignoring her. The man would occasionally glance up at her.

Angela yawned. How long would they keep her waiting? The room's stuffy air made her feel drowsy, but not enough to sleep. She would have need horse tranquilizers to fall asleep while naked in public. So she sat and stared at the wall.

Eventually, Angela heard a door to her right creak open. "Right this way, Angela," Kate said, peaking her head out.

Angela stood up and approached the door. She gasped at what she saw there. Beautiful, elegant Kate was naked from the waist down! Angela caught a flash of red landing strip and then dutifully averted cast her eyes down at the woman's high-heels.

Kate reached out to touch her shoulder and usher her through the doorway. "This way," she said, heels clacking down the narrow corridor. She had a small, round butt. Angela scurried to walk abreast of her, though the space barely allowed it.

"You're not wearing any panties!" she hissed. "You're a Bureau of Clothing official and you're not even fully dressed!"

"Budget cuts," Kate replied nonchalantly. "I spend most of my time behind a window, so the higher ups decided it didn't matter if I wore anything below the counter. And there's always a need for more clothing to give to deserving cases like you."

"Even underwear?"

"That's usually the first to go." The way Kate's blouse shifted as she walked let Angela know that she wasn't wearing a bra either.

Angela recalled the protestations of the man out front when she'd asked for his sweatervest. Maybe he would have given it to her if she'd been a man. That... appeared to be how things worked here? She suddenly felt a new respect for the Bureau staff, especially brave, bottomless Kate.

The corridor opened up into a large open room, which was furnished with a desk to one side, a stool in the middle, and a treadmill next to the stool.

Kate cupped her hands over her mouth and called, "Horatio, I've got a new TNI for you! Female, mid-twenties."

A door on the other side of the room flew open, and in stepped a small, hunchbacked old man in a dark suit. He was both bald and clean shaven, walked with a stick and gave off the impression of a turtle. Angela shuddered as his hungry gaze drank her in.

"Thank you, Kate," said the turtle-man, Horatio. He looked down at a paper he was holding. "I have a copy of... Angela... right here." He shuffled over to the two women, moving at a rapid pace for one so old and unsteady.

"Delighted to... meet you, Angela," he said. And then he took her hand, her right hand which hovered in front of her crotch, brought it up to his lips, and kissed it. "Let's get you... measured."

Angela chuckled uncomfortably as the man produced a tape measure from an inner coat pocket.

Kate nodded to Angela, then Horatio, and turned to go. "Ah, Kate," said Horatio, stopping her. "Before you... go. The Riverview branch... contacted me. They need... a blouse. It's urgent."

Kate stood motionless with her back to Horatio. A moment passed, and Angela thought she detected a flicker of anguish pass across the young lady's features. It was a look she knew well.

Kate stood still for a moment longer. Then she slowly nodded, and shrugged her shoulders. Her blazer fell to the ground. Then there was a flash of red and white as flicked her hair forward and pulled her blouse overhead. It was the fastest Angela had even seen someone strip. And all of a sudden, she wasn't the only naked woman in the room.

Kate's heels clacked across the floor as she strode purposefully towards what looked like a mail chute in a corner of the room. She folded her blouse into a neat bundle and deposited it.

"They'll... appreciate it," said Horatio.

Kate turned around to face Angela, and walked over to retrieve her blazer. Her breasts were about the same size as Angela's, but a little perkier on Kate's larger frame. But Angela only caught them in the corner of her eye, as her gaze locked on Kate's. The two naked women shared a moment of understanding, before Kate picked up her blazer, put it on and did up the buttons. Angela was briefly jealous, but decided she couldn't begrudge the woman her single item of clothing, which barely came down past her navel.

Once Kate had departed, Horatio looked away from the entrance and back at Angela. "On the stool," he said.

Angela did as she was told.

"Arms out," Horatio said, snapping his tape measure.

Angela shot him a pleading look.

"Arms... out. We need... measurements."

With great reluctance, Angela pried her arms from the spots they were covering and stretched them out at her sides, giving Horatio a full view of her breasts and bush.

Horatio licked his lips and went to work.

He measured her height. 5'2". He measured her bust, waist and hips, lingering on the first and last. 34-30-40. He took some additional measurements of each breast, admonishing Angela to keep still. Then he measured the length of her legs, arms, and torso, then the circumference of each calf and thigh. He measured her head from all sides, and measured the length of her hair. He measured her feet, down, across and up.

Despite Angela's whimpering protestations, he measured the inside of her thighs, assuring her it was necessary if she really, truly wanted clothes. He made her get off the stool for this and stand with her legs spread.

As he measured, his wrinkly fingers brushed her pussy lips, and she shuddered in revulsion. This was assault. This whole thing was just wrong. She felt like running far away, letting the whole world see her body, if only to get away from those hands.

But then it was over, and Horatio put his tape measure away. "Now... fitness," he said, motioning towards the treadmill.

Exactly why a fitness assessment was required to give her clothes, Angela couldn't guess. Maybe they wanted to know if she should get active wear or casual wear, something stupid and pedantic like that. At this point, she was just going with it. Getting clothes at the end would be worth it. Even if she had nightmares about this horrible man fingering her for a month.

So Angela dutifully stepped off the stool and onto the treadmill. Horatio brandished two handfuls of suction cups on wires and started gleefully sticking them on her tummy, her legs, her arms, her boobs and her ass. Why not? If this was a real government department, she was going to have to lay a complaint later.

The treadmill started, and Angela was running. Slowly at first, but at an ever increasing pace. She watched the speed counter tick up, and up, and up. She pumped her legs and arms, faster and faster. Hair flew around, breasts bounced, ass and thighs jiggled. Horatio was transfixed.

The pace kept on increasing, and Angela struggled to keep up. She was breathing hard now, sweat dripping from her forehead and down her torso. Some of the suction cups came loose and fell off, but Horatio didn't seem in a hurry to do anything about that. Faster and faster she ran.

Finally, Horatio glanced at the small rectangular device that was on the other end of the suction cup wires and said, "Enough," hitting a button. The treadmill quietened, slowed down, and Angela came to a jogging stop. Her body glistened with sweat, and she stumbled off the treadmill and fell to her knees with exhaustion, then sank to the floor in a heap, butt in the air.

A splash of cold water on her back startled her, and she turned over. Horatio loomed over her, holding a water bottle. "Open," he said. She opened her mouth, and he poured the rest of the water bottle into her face. She gulped down greedily, coughing and spluttering.

When she was done coughing, Horatio helped her to her feet. Her skin was streaked with gray dust from the floor, that had mingled with her sweat and the water. Horatio produced a clipboard, jotted down some final notes, and then looked up at her and motioned towards the door at the far end of the room. "You may... proceed."

"Thank you," she said, still catching her breath. Then, shakily, she walked towards the door, feeling the old man's eyes take one last, long, loving look at her backside.

She pushed down the door's handle and opened it a crack, just enough to poke her head around. "Hello?" she said.

"Ah, you must be Angela!" came a booming, self-assured male voice from the next room. "Come in, come in!"

The presence of a new man immediately returned Angela's self-consciousness, and she slowly pushed open the door, pressing her front against it and covering her behind with her left arm.

"Of course, of course, you're the TNI," said the man inside the room, locking his pale blue eyes on her own. "Take your time, everything at your own pace."

The man sat on an armchair in the middle of the room, which was positioned beside a psychologist's couch. These were the room's only items of furniture.

Dr Paul, as he introduced himself, looked to be in his late thirties. He had a brown beard and was balding, with brown hair that only grew on the sides and back of his head. He was wearing black suit trousers with shiny black shoes and had a tie slung loosely around his neck. His hairy, muscled torso was bare. Between him and Kate, Angela's hopes of getting adequate clothing for herself were falling fast.

"You appear to have some concerns about my attire," said Dr Paul. "Let me assure you that we BoC staffers are at the bottom of the list when it comes to getting clothes. We're a selfless lot, giving the very shirts off our back to help the less fortunate."

Angela smiled weakly, her body still pressed up against the door.

"Now, please take a seat on my couch. Don't worry, ma'am, I'll look away while you approach."

Dr Paul turned his head to face the far wall, and Angela peeled herself off the door. She pulled her dark hair forward so it fell over her breasts and walked to the couch, where she lay down carefully, keeping both hands in her lap.

Once she was settled, Dr Paul looked back at her, resuming his intense eye contact. After that pervert Horatio, she appreciated that.

"Now, Angela, I just have to do a quick mental evaluation, and then we'll have everything we need to get you those clothes you've been looking forward to. You've been very patient with us, and the Bureau thanks you for your understanding. It's been a long time since we've had a TNI, so we're all a little rusty on the procedure."

Angela smiled. "As long as I get those clothes."

"Right, right, and of course you will. I just have to run through a few questions with you. First question: do you wear clothes at home?"

"Yes, always."

Dr Paul noted her answer down on his notepad. "Have you ever gone skinny dipping?"

Angela made a face. "No, and I definitely won't now!" This was a lie.

"Do you wear clothes during sex?"

Angela harrumphed indignantly. "What kind of question is that?"

"Yes or no, please ma'am."

"...No, of course not. But I don't see what that has to do with anything!"

"Do you enjoy being the center of attention?"

"No!" Angela screamed. "I'd give anything for people to just ignore me again!"

"Do you have any exhibitionist tendencies?"

"Dr Paul, I have gone through hell today trying to get dressed. I don't like people seeing me naked!"

Pen scratched against paper. Then Dr Paul asked, "Would you rather be topless or bottomless?"

"Neither!"

Dr Paul cocked an eyebrow. "Choose one."

Angela pouted. "...Bottomless, I guess. A bit easier to hide, especially if your top is long enough, at least some of the time. But really, honestly, neither!"

"If you were trapped on a tropical island and your clothes rotted away, would you make new ones out of leaves?"

What kind of questions were these? "I would," Angela answered. "But knowing my luck, they'd just get stolen by wild animals, or maybe I'd be allergic to all the leaves on the island."

"What is your best feature?"

"My cute little nose."

"Below the neck?"

"My strong calves." She wasn't playing this game.

"Worst feature?"

Angela thought for a moment. "It's a tie between my boobs, butt and vagina."

Dr Paul cocked an eyebrow. "You don't really believe that."

Angela sighed. "My thighs are a little flabby."

Dr Paul made a couple more noted on his pad. "Thank you, Angela, we're done here. Please proceed to the next room when you're ready." He stuck out a hand to shake, and Angela took it. Then he stood up and pulled her into a hug. His chest hairs tickled her skin.

"I really think we've made a breakthrough here, Angela," he said in her ear. "I'll so happy you came to see me!" And she could feel it too.

His strong arms made her feel warm and protected. Maybe, under different circumstances... but not now. She was too confused, too vulnerable. And what could he possibly mean "breakthrough"? She hadn't even been here ten minutes, or been asked any serious questions.

Dr Paul released her from the hug and shut his eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

"Thank you, doctor," Angela said, as she slipped across the room and to the next, hopefully final door.

The room beyond was even emptier than the last two had been, and was completely dark. There was a painted wooden board in the middle, in front of which was a... camera. Angela froze up, and darted to stand behind the camera.