Thread: The Nudity Virus (Jaqueline x Tellmi_Moore)

Vara hadn't used a feedback protector while playing her favourite neural interface MMORPG. Since she was young she had always been warned of the possibilities of identity theft, information theft and of neural hacking. The latter which, it was said could easily be blocked by the use of a feedback protector between the impulse contact and the skin at the back of the neck. Vara hated how it slowed reaction times and dulled the physical sensations in the game world, and so had opted not to use one while jacked in two weeks ago. She was playing on an unsecured, private server when it happened an intense feedback shock that literally knocked her out of the game and out of her chair. Her computer had contracted a nasty virus that had not only rendered her computer inoperable, but had uploaded a set of neural engrams into her brain that had grafted themselves into her autonomic systems. This is how it was explained to her, and she wasn't completely certain she understood the science she wasn't sure the doctors completely understood the science, as they said the first documented cases of brain hacking, as the popular media called it, had only appeared three years ago. She was also certain that, was told that, such hacks were incurable, or at least not curable yet. Some day these neural programs might be removable, but, as the councillor in her support group assured them, at the moment, there was nothing they could do. The virus she had gotten was a variant of what was called the AN virus, or Anxiety-Narcolepsy virus. It was, as all documented brain hack viruses were, an attack and rewrite of autonomic responses to specific stimuli. This virus was a subcategory of the virus that had been around for almost two years now, called the Vestiphobic Narcolepsy Syndrome Virus. Its autonomic response that it triggered was severe anxiety, followed by narcoleptic attacks which is to say, she felt panicked and fearful, followed by completely passing out asleep. The stimuli that triggered this response, was wearing clothes. Any clothes, or wearing anything in general. Its common name in medical circles had become the nudity hack. When she had been knocked out of her chair, the first thing that had happened was that she had fallen asleep. When she woke up, she had a massive headache, and when she climbed up onto her chair, she noticed the only thing that would appear on her computer monitor when she tried to turn on her computer was a message, red letters on a black screen REMOVE YOUR CLOTHES TO AVOID ANXIETY AND UNCONCIOUSNESS. She rolled her eyes and turned off her computer, believing this to be a joke, but, after a while she began to feel horribly, horribly anxious, pacing, fidgeting, chewing on her lip, and before she realized it, she had stripped down to her underwear. She ate dinner, tried to concentrate on her homework for class, but... eventually she decided to go to bed and go to the campus's student health centre tomorrow to make sure she didn't have a concussion. She stripped completely to take a shower before bed and, to her relief, felt enormously better as the hot water ran over her body. Stepping out of the shower, she towelled off and began wrapping the towel around herself, when the anxiety returned, this time more suddenly, and with greater intensity. She dropped the towel. She shook her head, thinking to herself that she was being silly, that she shouldn't even consider such things as an internet virus somehow affecting her so strongly as being possible. She picked up the towel and tried to wrap it around herself again, feeling hideously nauseous as she wrapped the towel around herself, and taking two steps toward the bedroom, fell straight forward, fast asleep. She woke up later, realizing she was naked again, the towel lying on the floor next to her. She stood up and padded, barefoot and naked, into the bedroom and found her pyjamas, she held them out and tried to muster the will to put them on she got one arm through the shirt before she started to feel dizzy again, fell to her knees, and threw the shirt off. She curled up in a ball on the bed and tried to calm down, eventually deciding that the best thing for her to do right now was to go to bed and figure this out in the morning. When she was more or less calmed down, she decided that sleeping naked wasn't something so horrible she was alone in her apartment, after all. She pulled back the covers and pulled them back over her again when suddenly she felt trapped, anxious and claustrophobic, she leapt out of bed, throwing the cover clear away. She couldn't even cover herself in sheets! Eventually she used her smart phone to search for who to call about being brain hacked she found a hotline and called it immediately. Within a hour there were paramedics banging on her door. Approaching it, Vara realized she was naked. She couldn't cover herself with anything. Um... I... I can't answer the door! Ms. Lynn, we're medical professionals, came a woman's voice. We're here to help you, and you need to let us in, we know you're naked and can't help it, we're here to see if we can help, just please open the door. Eventually, holding one arm across her chest and one hand quickly returned to cupping and covering her puss, she managed to swing the door open. They quickly entered. There were five of them, two in the blue she expected of paramedics, the others were dressed in flannel and khaki or else dark blue. They approached her computer on the desk, still displaying its red warning message, and began plugging into cords to the computer, the paramedics were leading her to the front door. I can't go outside! Stop it! Stop I'm naked! But they were very insistent and, each holding one of her arms, sometimes literally lifting her off her bare, kicking feet, the hauled her out of her apartment, down the stairs and onto the street, stark naked. Her neighbours were all staring at the commotion, the kicking, shouting, naked girl being hauled into the back of an ambulance without a shred of clothing to cover her body, not even any shoes or socks. In the back of the ambulance, they gave her gas and an injection of something to calm her down, and eventually, she fell clean asleep. That had been two weeks ago. After spending a night in the hospital without so much as a hospital gown to cover herself with, nor any sheets on her hospital bed, she was informed what sort of virus she had been infected with, that this was a deliberate attack given to her intentionally by a hacker on line, that this virus was known to be targeted to female users between the ages of 16 and 32 who had public profiles on gaming sights. There was currently no cure, she was told her second night, and the condition would not allow her to wear any clothing at any time. There were drugs that would remove the anxiety, but they were basically narcotic, and it would not remove the narcolepsy, the falling asleep that resulted from wearing clothing for more than a few moments. Patients, it was found, who would not remove their clothes, would in fact fall into a catatonic coma until the clothing was removed for several days to allow them to recover. But... it's all in my mind, right? Can't this be fixed somehow? she had begged. Ms Lynn, we don't understand the complete process by which this attack effects the human brain yet, attempts to recreate the virus and the conditions of the attacks have all failed thus far. We're dealing with very advanced, purpose made MMI coding. There's nothing we can do at this point... Vara had shouted then. She had asked to go home, and had been brought back to her apartment, leaving through a service exit and into her father's car, being delivered home and asking to be left alone there. Two days later, a social worker, Mr. Brown had come to her door and convinced her to come with him to a support group for women with her exact same condition. He told her she could follow him and cover her breasts with her arm, he wouldn't turn around until they got to the bottom of the stairs, and that he would watch for people coming so she could get to his car, which was right by the exit. He opened the door to his car and she bolted into the back seat, hiding below the level of the windows. She didn't look up until they had arrived, and she had followed him through a back entrance to the building. She shivered at the cold air outside Mr. Brown's car. Her bare feet felt and experienced every step of the course concrete and pavement as she followed Mr. Brown through the back alley, her feet becoming filthy from the slightly damp back alley pavement. She wiped them on the doormat as she entered, the bristle brush mat tickling her feet. It was a short walk to a meeting hall where, inside many other naked women were standing and sitting, in both large and small groups. Some drinking coffee, some even laughing with each other. All of them were totally and completely naked. See, Vara, this is a safe place, in fact, I'm going to wait outside in the room we passed, after the meeting, just come and find me and I'll drive you home. Vara hadn't spoken at all in that meeting, she wasn't ready yet, and no one asked her. She caught some of them looking at her with sad, sympathetic eyes eyes were quickly redirected when they spotted her looking back at them. There were some women older than her there, most probably at or around her own age of 19. They were talking about making their friends and co-workers understand their condition, about the feelings being naked, about other people judging them for being naked. Near the end, Mrs. Collins, the councillor, who, Vara was surprised to discover, did not suffer from Vestiphobic Narcolepsy like the rest of them, but chose to conduct sessions of the support group naked so as to put her patience at ease, and, Vara admitted, it did help that there wasn't another clothed person in the room during these sessions. Afterwards, Mr. Brown had driven her home and she had dashed up the stairs to her apartment. She let Mr. Brown into her apartment and sat with him, talking for a while about what she could do from here. He informed her that she could take a semester off for medical purposes, that she could talk with her academic councillors to make certain this would not effect her scholarships, and if it would, that there was a foundation to help victims of this particular brain hack with the transition to a naked lifestyle, women who's careers and schooling would be interrupted or otherwise upset by this major change in their lives. She was informed she should probably remove clothes, shoes, large towels and bed sheets from her apartment just to avoid potential anxiety attacks, but said she wasn't ready for such a major step. Mr. Brown agreed it would take time before she was ready to get to that stage of acceptance. Is it even legal for me to be outside? Yes, actually, public nudity, so long as there was no lewd or sexual behaviour accompanying the nudity, has been legal in this state for decades, and there is a national statute in committee right now that'll make the policy a nationwide policy for all law enforcement because of this specific issue. How many... how many people are affected by this? About 210 women that we know of. That you know of? There might be more, we don't know this is a new field of care for our field. We think there are two or three hackers who are targeting women in this city, but so far the NSA hasn't been able to track anyone down. The conversation degraded into angry, frustrated declarations from Vara at that point. Resulting in Vara crying again. One thing that she realized after the fact, she had hugged Mr. Brown for support while she cried, and for a short time, forgot that she was naked. Now it was her second week since the initial cyber attack, and she was at her second support ground meeting. She was sitting on a nice padded plastic chair not a cold metal chair, thank goodness. Her legs were straight out in front her, pressed together, her toes pointed and the soles of her bare feet flat on the soft carpeted floor. She was careful to tie her hair up it was long, hanging to the middle of her back, and when it touched her skin it would make her feel anxious and nauseous. She should probably get it cut short if she could manage to go outside and go to a hairdresser. Her father had been bringing her groceries, but she had been doing her own cooking, not really comfortable with even her family seeing her totally unclothed for long. She had spent a lot of time looking at herself in the mirror, really looking at herself, as if she was seeing her naked body for the first time, realizing it was now the only outfit she would wear until they could develop a cure. If they... no, she had to believe they would eventually cure her condition. She was medium height, 5'6, she had pale, slightly freckled skin, and ginger hair. She had bright green eyes and patches of freckles across her nose, her cheekbones, her chest and her thighs. Her feet had high, strong arches, and her limbs were toned and lean from years of swimming and tennis. Her breasts were blessedly small, considering she now wouldn't have the option of a bra for support she had worn a 36-B bra before... when she wore clothes. They were high and firm and perky, despite their smallish size. She had already shaved her pubic hair, realizing that, if she was going to be seen, she didn't want to be seen with a bush of thick, curly red hair. For a moment she thought about letting it grow very long, and that maybe this was a loophole in the clothing anxiety she had been programmed with but even as she thought about using her own hair as covering, it began to make her feel extremely anxious and nauseous and dizzy until she had shaved all of it off. She looked around the group, holding the paper cup of free coffee in her hands. Mrs. Collins was talking to the group as a whole about not being ashamed of their condition, that it wasn't healthy to consider their bodies as somehow unfit to be seen, that this would only hurt them in the long run, and so forth and so on. Finally, she looked straight at Vara. Well, I think we've all noticed a new face the last few weeks in group, she said, as if reading from a script. Young lady, why don't you stand up and introduce yourself and let us know who you are and what exactly happened. Um... Vara distracted herself a moment by looking down and setting down her coffee. Looking up, she stood up and... saw the eyes of everyone in the room upon her, she immediately crouched slightly and covered her breasts with both arms, her knees tightly together. Um... I'm uh, Vara, and... I have Vestiphobic Narcolepsy. I... Now Vara was starting to tear up. I, um... I can't wear clothes anymore... Hi, Vara, everyone said in such a warm and understanding way, and suddenly Vara realized almost everyone in the room had been where she was and really, really understood what she was going through. She stood up straight and smiled through her tears and leg go of herself. And I'm... I'm starting to feel better about it, she lied. Everyone clapped, she sat down. The woman sitting to her left hugged her, and Vara hugged back, bare flesh against bare flesh. The woman to her left leaned in and also hugged Vara from behind. Breasts and flesh pressing against her back. Soft feminine flesh pressing against her from both sides... she felt stirrings she knew not from where, and for the first time in days, warmer. Then the hugs ended and she was sitting along in her chair again. She picked up her coffee and sipped, listening to other business, listening to the story of other women in the group and their troubles and fears going shopping and explaining their situations to restaurants, giving their recommendations for restaurants who understood their condition and handled it well. Vara suddenly noticed that there was another woman looking at her. Across the group circle, there was a tall, dark haired woman looking at her she had a black bob haircut, black lipstick and dark purple nail polish. She, of course, wore nothing else. As the group was wrapping up, she noticed, with a quick glance up at the woman, that she was still, or again perhaps, looking at Vara. Something about it made her feel... warm. Standing, she was ready to leave when the woman who had been sitting to her right put a hand on her shoulder and offered more words of encouragement. This distracted her from running out to the waiting room for Mr Brown to drive her home, and, looking over her shoulder again a few minutes later, tried to see if she could see the black haired woman again in the milling crowd of naked women...