Something made for the buyer/giftee only, made to fit Them. -- Anon Guest
Getting used to a new Anywhere was an emotional task. Different customs. Different standards. Different ways of making clothing. Different standards of decency. And very different ways to treat people. This place... this new home of hers, was so very different from the home she still sickened for.
It started with the medical treatment. Waking up inside a medical coffin is no great for a claustrophobe. But... for the first time in her life... people listened. They accomodated. They treated her with respect and care.
The next thing to get used to was what they called underwear. The knickers were something she knew as "witches' britches" but skin tight and elastic. They clung like a second skin and, after a self-conscious half-hour, felt like they weren't there at all. The same went for the weird little crop top that was apparently made for all genders. T-shirt sleeves, and the length of the 'top' finished just below her ribcage. It lifted and supported her bosom without making it sweaty and, soon, also felt like it wasn't there. Unnervingly so.