The tension in the bedroom was thick as treacle. Melissa, looking radiant in a white dress, all innocence and light, was ready for a night out. But her friend, Samantha, dressed in the sensible, drab skirt and blouse that had become her uniform, blocked her path. Samantha condemned the dress, twisting her face to that which screamed "you can just about see her tits!!", it was nothing more than something that could only be viewed a whore. Her moralizing came to a sudden stop. With a tilt of her head and raise of her chin, Melissa's actions were met with pure aggression and an air of "Oh really". What's your view and opinion then?  
  
Melissa did not retreat. With venom she simply responded "If you've got it, flaunt it!" This ignited a wildfire of rage in Samantha, leading to a visceral attack.  
  
From that point on, what can only be described as sheer rage quickly overcame Samantha as she rushed forwards and tore Melissa's dress from her, what was left of it, fell neatly around her ankles. Stripped, exposed, hurt, and more determined than every, she was caught off guard as something warm and yet cold came crashing into her neck as her eyes opened she could now see her body was being pulled along into the path of being a test subject.  
  
But it seemed, as her legs went, then blackness overcame, so did her consciousness and as they hit what must have been the wall or the furniture, nothing more.  
  
What would follow would be nothing more than whatever torture those involved would have for her, that much at that moment could have been a safe presumption. Her clothes were gone, stripped bare. Her mind stripped raw as there was no telling just how long that was going to last and how they, or she would come out of this all. For now, this was her situation. Stripped naked, without clothes and no hope of an easy end in sight. She was what she always feared. As always, a puppet was nothing more than what was planned from the off. She was a fallen toy and what they, whoever they were, would come next, would be down to their cruel minds. The situation at all stages remained firmly with them. There was nothing to help. There was no way out. Her time was hers and whatever came, it was now hers to endure.  
  
The only thing for the viewer to ask or imagine was to simply, what more was to come? For they alone knew. For she was helpless and could only watch the end, begin.

Flaunt It, Fight For It: The Wardrobe Rebellion