The command was simple. Final.
Hana's hands shook violently as they moved to her bra clasp.
'I can't do this. I can't—'
But her fingers were already working the hooks, muscle memory from decades of dressing and undressing.
The clasp came undone with a soft 'click'.
The straps slid down her shoulders.
The fabric fell away.
Her breasts spilled out—massive, heavy, sagging noticeably from their own weight. Dark brown nipples, large and already starting to harden in the cool air of the apartment despite her mortification.
Then her panties.
She hooked her thumbs into the waistband, her whole body trembling with shame and something else she refused to name.
Sliding them down her thick thighs.
Revealing the dark patch of hair between her legs that she hadn't bothered to trim in 'months' because who was going to see it anyway?
The panties hit the floor with a soft whisper of fabric.
She stood there completely naked.
