Change into your armor 1
From Create Your Own Story
You're under no illusions about the kind of neighbourhood you live in and the risks faced by a pretty young girl walking the streets alone. You decide you'll feel safer out there in your armor. You suit up in your battered, piecemeal armor and strap your bow and quiver across your back. You have a gaping hole in your defences, namely that instead of leather or expensive mail protecting your vitals, the best you can do right now is a rather indecent short dress that displays far more of your not-insignificant assets than you'd like. You found it in that abandoned shack by the city walls you slept in for a while back about three years ago, and then it fit you quite well. You were a late bloomer, though, and when puberty finally hit, it ran you over like a freight train. You never saw it coming and you still haven't picked yourself up off the tracks. At 17 you were a lithe, toned, pretty little thing with manageable A-cups. Now, by 20, you've morphed into a curvy sex goddess. You are very modest and intensely uncomfortable in your own skin, and consider each extra inch your boobs gain to be a punishment from God for some sin - most likely idleness. You decide to think about that later and, ineffectually trying to pull your skirt down and avoiding looking down at the expanse of your cleavage, leave your room by:
