Your eyes gaze upon a strange outfit. You raise an eyebrow at the black and white gothic attire. There is a black sleeveless dress with puffy shoulders and white frills at the armholes, a low-cut, lace-up bodice section and a fluffy knee-length skirt with a white frilly layer that sticks out below the black outer fabric.
Draped over a hangar next to this is a pair of black-and-white-striped socks and a matching pair of arm-hugging gloves. A third hangar contains a black fabric collar lined at the top and bottom by small white frills and a thin black tie cord. On the floor sits a pair of very tall platform boots. The rest of the closet is empty, and its loneliness suggests it was placed there specifically for you, or at least anyone who stayed in this room.
"What have I gotten myself into?" You think. Normally you'd never even consider wearing this kind of outfit, but it's chilly and you have no other choice. You take the garments over to the bed, laying them all out. You're a little annoyed that whoever decided to supply you with these clothes neglected to include a bra or any kind of underwear. You breasts may not need the support anymore, but your privates could definitely use some cover.
Hoping you'll be able to find another outfit, or even your original one, as you continue exploring the house, you sit on the bed and slip on the socks. The fabric is surprisingly comfortable and slides softly up your smooth legs. The black-and-white-striped socks reach a little over your knees and fit tightly without itching. You stick a dainty foot out, wiggling your toes slightly, relishing the feeling of them rubbing against the soft fabric. The socks provide surprisingly effective insulation; your feet and legs feel much warmer already.
You lift up the dress and examine how to get into it. There's no opening of any kind in the back. The skirt portion is sewn to the bottom of the bodice, which is untied. Hopefully that will offer enough slack to get yourself into it. You slip the entire thing over your head, running your arms through the puffy shoulders. They fall just right onto your shoulders, supporting the weight until you can tie the bodice. The shoulders act as the left and right boundaries of the wide-open "collar" space that exposes most of your collarbone and half of your cleavage.
At least you're less exposed than you were, you think as you lace up the front of the bodice. The black cord slips through the tiny holes easily, and once laced, you pull it taut to tie a large-looped knot at the top. Your cleavage is clearly visible through the gaping opening at the front of the bodice, and is much more pronounced now that you've tied it tightly. The upper third of your perfect, firm orbs presses out from the top. While it provided excellent support, the bodice was obviously designed to go over an undershirt, which would have done the job of covering your chest properly. You're reminded of the fact that you were also denied access to a bra and undies by the mysterious--and probably lecherous--forces at work in this house.
You turn your attention to the gloves, which fit, quite literally, like gloves. You pull the striped arm stockings all the way up as far as they can go, which is past your elbows. Their elastic hems secure their positions a good few inches beneath the shoulders of the dress. The fabric appears to be the same as your new socks. The black palms of the gloves are open-fingered starting at the second knuckle, which should aid you if you needed a firm grip on something in the future.
You eye the black boots suspiciously. They are very high-riding, with thick platforms. You understand these are the only footwear available to you right now, so you sigh and sit down on the bed. You slip your left foot into the leather boot and it rides halfway up your calf. Again, as you flex your toes inside the boot it seems a perfect match to your current foot size. You doubt you'd be able to wear your old clothes this well, having regressed to age twenty-one. There are four silver buckles: one at the ankle, one at the top, and two evenly-spaced between them. You start at the bottom and buckle them in sequence, then you put on the right boot. Once they're on, you stand up.
You waver for a moment, not used to balancing on platforms. Especially ones this tall. The five-inch platforms have made up for the height you lost when you became younger and then some. You're sure you stand close to six feet tall with them on. With your vantage point higher than ever, you uneasily walk to the mirror to examine your reflection.
Regardless of who wanted to see you in this outfit, you can't help but admire your appearance. The dress is a surprisingly perfect fit. The waist hugs you tightly, accenting your younger curves. There is enough body in the skirt to allow it to fall from your waist at a forty-degree angle, the white frills at the end circling above your knees, a small hint of your smooth thighs peeking out between the hem of the skirt the top of the striped socks. Small white lines accent the edges of the bodice and the black outer layer of the skirt. The outfit may look a bit theatrical, but it certainly looks good on you. The dress, the striped arm gloves and leggings, and the oversized boots all make you look downright cute.
Something seems to be missing, though. You purposefully left off the collar, but now your neck just seemed so...bare without it. Shuffling back to the bed, you pick up the black collar with the lacy white trim and string it around your neck. You tie it in the back tightly so it won't slip. You look back at the mirror. Finally, your outfit is complete. You look somewhat ridiculous, particularly with the bodice allowing the tops of your breasts and your cleavage to be noticeable, but at least you're clothed.
A slight draft picks up and cold air blows against your exposed privates. You shiver, arms automatically pressing the dress against your legs. Annoyed not only at this inconvenience, but at the prospect that someone might be playing an elaborate, horny joke on you, you turn toward the door and prepare to continue searching the house.