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Laura Bishop had lived on this earth for twenty-nine years and in none of that time had she experienced a morning as frustrating, aggravating and downright humiliating, not even the time she went to a political rally. No, nothing quite compared to her current morning, not by a long shot from a 50-calibre sniper. And the kicker is, it really had started relatively normally, when all things were considered and by that, one of course means she opened her eyes to see her cat sitting on her boobs, his chest puffing in and out gently as a grunt of a snore release from his nostrils. For a few moments, and not a second longer, Laura was left slightly disorientated by this sight, as she lay there, looking at the ginger puffball.

"Phineas?" Was Bishop's first word as her curled red hair lay sprawled out behind her head, forming quite the cushioning layer between herself and the pillow, which was a good thing because she kept boxes of hard candy in the pillowcase in the event she wanted something to eat in the middle of the night, a habit that had persisted long since childhood. As he heard her speak, Phineas opened one lazy eye, staring directly at his owner's pale, freckled face, grunted and closed the eye again. He always was a charmer. Shaking her head very gently, Laura turned her gaze to look up at the clean cream ceiling. In all honesty, she was exceptionally lucky to afford the kind of apartment she had on the salary of a teacher. It was hardly five-star accommodation, but she had seen far, far worse in her hunt for an abode. At least she had the place to herself, no roommates to annoy her. The big downside was that Phineas technically wasn't allowed, but the landlord didn't need to know that.

Shifting a little, Laura tried to pull herself up into a sitting position against the headboard. Clearly, she had been tossing and turning in the night again, because her duvet had slipped down to her waist, revealing the dull, mint-green tank top she typically adorned as nightwear, the top that the cat was resting upon, until the shift forced him to slide downwards with a hiss, landing on Bishop's abdomen upside down, despite his valiant efforts to dig his claws into her chest and hang on.

"Hm, that's enough right there." She scolded the feline as she scooped him up in her arms, cradling him as if he were a human infant, all while turning her body over so as to swing her legs right out from under the covers and onto the ground, assuming a proper sitting position with her bare feet on the polished wooden flooring of her bedroom. Her plain white pajama bottoms rustled, the light fabric clinging to her legs as she stood up, quickly setting Phineas down on the floor, where he swiftly scurried away to partake in other activities, which probably mostly included pissing off the neighbour again by scratching on the walls. Rubbing her head, Laura's gaze drifted over to the digital clock resting atop four or five textbooks of varying girth on her bedside table. Ten minutes past nine in the morning. She found herself wondering what day it was as she stood up. She was pretty sure she remembered drinking last night. It must be a Sunday, then. She only drank on Saturdays. Well, very rarely on Fridays, but considering she tutored college students on Saturdays, she preferred not to risk being hungover for patently obvious reasons. Sunday it was, then.

Stumbling past her shelf of collectable figurines, she took a glance at her favourite of the bunch, Aigis from Persona 3. Well, to say she was the favourite would be a slight overstatement, since the Shadow-hunting android was one of the only two statues she owned, the other being a generic anime catgirl thing. She didn't particularly care for the latter, she had simply managed to pick it up cheap one day.

Prying the door leading to the main living area further open, Laura slipped out, leaving the bedroom behind her. She liked to have something of a code, she didn't go back into the bedroom after she had dressed until it was time to go to bed. Granted, she wasn't dressed yet, but it was a lazy Sunday and she frankly was not planning on doing so. Stretching up with a yawn, her tank top riding up a little to expose her pale midriff, she glanced around the clean, well-maintained apartment. Everything was perfectly arranged, not a piece of furniture out of place or a speck of dirt anywhere in view. Just perfect, the best possible blend of modern convenience, seen in the 40-inch plasma TV mounted to the wall and the sparklingly spotless kitchen countertops running along the side, and traditional cosiness, exhibited with the comfy red striped rug with tangled ends, located underneath the glass-topped coffee table that was located just in front of the aforementioned TV.

With the distant meows of Phineas permeating her ears and the morning sunlight streaking through the window and illuminating her body, Bishop wasted no time in sauntering over to the crimson corner couch that stood as the main centrepiece of the main living room (despite being a corner couch, it very clearly was not in the corner) and she vaulted right over the back, flopping down onto the warm, soft cushioning and letting out a delighted sigh. This was the life. Well away from the stress of her teaching job, where no one respected her, be it colleague or student. She was an inexperienced newbie to the former and an annoying nag trying to act older than she really was to the latter. She knew full well from gossip floating around the high school that she was not very well liked. The only positive attention she ever seemed to receive was the stereotypical teenage boy "I'd hit that" comments. Not exactly the most thrilling of expressions to hear about oneself. But none of that was an issue now. She was all alone on a sleepy weekend, just her and her sofa and her TV. The three essentials in life, really.

"Mhm. So snug..." She murmured aloud, not even bothering to blush. If anyone could hear and see what she was up to, that would certainly be more than a little embarrassing, that was for sure. But she was certain that she was completely alone, so that gave her free reign to act however she wanted. Hell, she could strip naked if she wanted to and nobody would or could stop her…

…

Maybe it was just the alcohol from the previous night messing with her head, but that didn't sound like a half-bad idea. Now that she thought about it, these PJ bottoms and this tank top just felt so restrictive, right? Yeah, of course they did. Even before her mind fully finished processing these thoughts, her hand was already reaching down, tugging on the waistband of her bottoms. She would feel so much better if her legs could just breathe a little…

Within a few seconds, the bottoms were slid down further and further, revealing a pain of plain white granny panties that covered her bubbly posterior. Already, she felt so freed. It was naughty, that was how it felt. Like being caught late at night with a box of snacks or justifying terrorism behind an annoymous screenname online. Pants were a part of society that was well-established as the norm, to forgo them was very strange indeed, even a little scary. But that just made it all the more exciting and so, Laura swiftly stood from the couch, swishing her bushy red hair as she let the PJ bottoms fall to around her ankles, showing off her underwear and pale, twiggy legs in all their glory. As she stood there for a few seconds, she was able to really take in just how warm the weather was. It was late May, the summer was rapidly approaching, so this was no huge surprise to anybody, really. But not that her legs were getting some of that heat, Bishop was able to really acknowledge it for once.

Now what? That was the question that sunk into her mind. Now that she was standing in her apartment in her skivvies, what came next? She should probably like… try to do something? Maybe grab a bite to eat? Yeah, that sounded good. Taking on a resolute expression, the girl made her way over to the kitchen counters, her mind buzzing with what to make. As she reached up, forcing herself up onto her tiptoes to get into the overhead cabinet where seasonings were kept, looking for something to spice up her usual breakfast of buttered toast, she couldn't help but sway her rear a little bit, just a tad, to some music that had popped into her head. Something about this just felt so much more fun than normally making breakfast did. She hated breakfast, the worst meal of the day easily, but this new factor, being the lack of pants, made it a little more exciting. For a few seconds, she imagined how someone would react if they happened to walk in on her, how she would react. But this idea was not in her mind for very long, it would be impossible for anyone to just walk in. It wasn't like she had anything scheduled for the day anyway.

Taking some assorted herbs from the cabinet, Laura contemplated the idea of making a grilled cheese instead of toast for once. She had the correct equipment after all, a Birthday gift from her mother that she had never once used, and it wasn't that much more effort for a bit of a mix-up to her usual dull morning eating sessions. Yes, that could work. Nodding, Bishop slid over to the fridge, flinging open the door as she continued to shake her hips in tune with the imaginary music, looking for the cheese. Surely, she had some laying around somewhere cheese was one of those things that everybody always seemed to have at least a little bit of, like a salt shaker or a racist relative who really brought down the mood every Christmas. From her current position, however, she couldn't spot any, so she leaned in a little further with a confident shake of her booty as she felt the fabric of the knickers tighten right up against her ass. Now this was the life, feeling the cold air from the fridge rush over her top and down her chest. The sensation made her tingle. Even better, she finally managed to locate the block of cheddar at the very back of the refrigerator, next to the 2-litrePepsi bottle that she always kept the fridge stocked with at least one of. In case of emergencies, of course.

Cheese in hand, she gave a little 180 degree twirl, kicking the fridge door shut, and she did so, she suddenly became acutely aware that she was surely dreaming. For, you see, standing right there, staring at her with a slightly off-put expression with a book under his arm, was Mark Jefferson. Mark was the definition of soyboy, the kind of guy who would probably never touch a real boob except for maybe his own. That joke maybe would have landed if he didn't look like a malnourished stick insect. In short, the kind of person one would expect from your average modern-day college student. And there he was, standing in her apartment, looking straight at her.

"Jesus Feck!" Laura squealed as she dropped the cheese, letting it slam on the ground as her fight and flight kicked in. She was standing in the middle of her apartment in her underwear, while one of the students she tutored was looking at her. How was anybody supposed to react in that situation? While remaining unsure of the correct procedure, Bishop immediately tugged down on her tight, minty green top in an attempt to bring it down to cover up her rather large unmentionables. This had limited efficiency and furthermore, caused the back of said top to shoot right up, nothing covering her pantied behind, which luckily was to the wall, so at least nobody could see that. "Mark, the hell are you doing here? How did you even get in?" She felt her face burning up with the force of a thousand suns.

In response to her questions, Jefferson raised an eyebrow as he fixed his glasses. "Ms. Bishop, you gave me a key. you tutor me for Humanities."

"Yeah, on Saturdays!" She shot back, still struggling to cover the front of her grannies, having to really stretch her flimsy top's fabric to the breaking point.

"..." The latte-sipping student looked as though his tutor had grown an extra head. "Yeah? Of course. Exactly."

"But it's Sunday!"

"Uh, no it isn't. Miss, with all due respect, have you been drinking?"

"What?! I-" How? She only drank on Saturdays and…

…

"Oh." It appeared this weekend had been the recipient of one of those occasional Friday night drinking sessions. How had she even managed to forget that? More importantly, what was she supposed to do now? Even if she got her bottoms back, she would still be in her pajamas and that awkwardness from being seen in her knickers was to remain. She could hardly teach in that atmosphere. Oh, sod it all to hell.

"Session's cancelled." She announced hotly, already moving towards the door while grabbing Mark's arm. "Yes, you deserve a break, I think. You've been doing well, you can take a day off."

"But, I have exams next week-"

"Good luck." Not even giving her student another second to see her in her skivvies, Laura dragged Jefferson right out into the hallway and shoved him out of the front door, being sure to lock it behind him. Certain that there was no chance of anyone coming back in, she flattened her back against the door while hyperventilating, waiting to catch up to her own breath. Well, that had certainly been… An event. A very, very weird event, but an event at that. Placing her hand on her rapidly beating heart, she slid down until she was now sitting with her back against that door, her tank top having ridden up all the way, to where just a hint of underboob was visible, not that there was anyone around to see it, thank goodness.

"Well… That was..." As she murmured to herself, feeling the sweat roll down her forehead, Phinease poked his head around the corner, looking into the hallway with those slit-like green eyes and silky ginger head. Evidently, he was left quite curious about the whole affair, likely attracted by the noise from it all, and to put it lightly, she did not exactly blame him. "Interesting..." Saying this, she looked down at her barely dressed form and was unable to suppress her giggles any further. Exciting was another way she would have described it. What fun. Terrifying, humiliating fun, but fun nevertheless, like tying a pair of skis to the back of one's friend's car and skiing across the road (Was that a little too specific?) But now, 'twas all over, and she could get on with her lazy day, now revealed to be a Saturday.

She still wasn't going to put pants on, though.