Ava stared down at the costume in her hands, running the durable fabric between her fingers.

It was well made, for being a rush order and cheap as dirt. Cheap for a super costume, she meant. The purchase had put a dent in their rapidly dwindling funds, funds which weren’t theirs to begin with—the result of Brooke recklessly maxing out her credit cards. Ava still couldn’t believe she’d done that. For all that she was grateful, she was a bit mad, too, that she'd invested so much without consulting her. Ava's struggles shouldn't have needed to become Brooke's, too.

The textile was lightweight and tough. She wouldn’t call it shoddy or anything, since it was still silky to the touch and looked great, but there was a noticeable hint of … Ava didn’t know how to put it … second-ratedness? It wasn’t up to the standards of big-name supers, Ava meant, and it would definitely tear if caught by any serious attacks. Probably wouldn’t even hold up to a knife slash. But that was what pennies would buy. They hadn’t had a choice in going cheap. 

She gripped the fabric in both hands and pulled, putting some muscle into it, but it didn’t tear, or stretch. So still quality, at least, and not total garbage. Good for the money, without a doubt. Whoever Brooke had hired, she’d found a hidden gem.

That was the practical commentary Ava had for her new costume. She’d been shying away from addressing the … ‘ulterior motives’ … behind ditching her old uniform and adopting something new. The changes in design that had prompted Ava swapping out of her old costume, which she liked quite a bit, despite being objectively worse quality than this one, were quite apparent.

She hadn’t even put the thing on yet, and she marveled at how little clothing she was holding in her hands. Maybe it’s deceptive? she thought hopefully. Covers more than it looks like, at first glance? Ava didn’t know who she was deluding—certainly not herself. She’d been the one to sketch the prototype, hadn’t she? And the whole point was that the costume wouldn’t cover half as much skin as her old one.

Ava sighed and shuffled out of her jeans and t-shirt, then bra and underwear; the costume was meant to be worn alone. Brooke was waiting for her in the other room, and Ava had already taken longer than she should’ve. The goal was to be coming off confident and assured … Brooke had made it clear she was concerned for Ava, and Ava got the feeling Brooke might try to call things off if she thought Ava wasn’t ready for this.

I literally flashed my tits to a random man the other day. What’s wearing a skimpy costume? Sure, one had been a one-off event to someone she’d never see again, and the other would be out in public, for quite literally everybody to ogle at, but still. 

The costume was split into two pieces, but the top and bottom blended seamlessly into each other so that it looked like a single item. Again, Ava was impressed with the quality relative to the price—such a smooth blend could be a hard thing to pull off. The measurements were perfect, too, but Ava had had Brooke take those meticulously and send them in, so of course it fit perfectly.

Too perfectly, unfortunately. The fabric clung so tightly to her skin she felt naked. And it was thin, too—she could see her abs poking through, and the top half was tight enough to act effectively as a sports bra. And, shit, she’d have to start taping her nipples, because those were definitely peeking through. Ava ran a finger across one, and they were as easy to feel as they were to see. Was she really going to present herself to Brooke like this? It wasn’t like she had tape on hand to fix it. 

It was just Brooke, Ava guessed. It’d be fine. They’d shared a living space for more than a year, and had known each other forever. What were some nipples peeking through?

And besides, the uniform was skanky enough even without that unfortunate addition. The designer had taken Ava’s sketches as inspiration, but hadn’t adhered to them strictly—as she hadn’t expected, or asked, them to, because Ava was just a hobbyist, hardly some professional. The designer had brought her vision to life, in all of that statement’s unfortunate implications.

The boob window was bigger than she’d designed. Though the skintight white and gold uniform had a modest neckline and a gold collar capping it off, the tear-drop shaped gap in the middle of her chest removed any suggestions of chastity. Ava’s breasts strained against the fabric, pulling the already tight glossy material firm, and revealing an amount of cleavage that left Ava flushing. 

And the bottom half. Not even shorts—more like panties. The white and gold underwear (seriously, might as well call it what it was) didn’t even cross diagonally at her hip bones; her legs were fully exposed, and even the creased lines between where her legs and pelvis met were on display. You know, the lines to her crotch, which felt downright pornographic to be showing off, even if it was standard for skimpy super costumes. 

Ava adjusted the thin strip of fabric running between her legs that kept the costume legal, wondering if in the middle of a fight she’d accidentally accrue a public indecency charge. She knew it had been designed in a way to protect her modesty in a literal sense, so that wasn’t a real concern … but it felt like it.

Ava was almost scared to turn around and look at herself from the back, because she could feel the way her ass was hanging from the lower half of her uniform. But might as well get to it. Her circumstances were hardly changing. She turned around, bracing herself.

It was what she’d expected. Combined with the tightness of the uniform and how high the fabric lines rose, zero of Ava’s ass was left to the imagination. If anything, the firm sculpting nature of the costume did her favors; it shaped each of her cheeks in a way that had Ava’s face burning even brighter than it had been before. Ava tried tugging the fabric down so it covered more of herself, but there wasn’t any give. If anything, as the day went by, they’d likely ride up, leaving her even more exposed, and turning what felt like zero coverage into actually zero coverage.

And this was normal, according to Brooke?

She knew objectively it was. All things considered, it was skimpy but far from the worst that could be found in Capital City’s superheroine cast. She was just having a hard time coming to terms with that. Because while from a gay perspective she greatly appreciated the uniforms Capital City’s sensual heroines chose to wear, Ava had never thought she’d be joining them.

And somewhere down the line, she’d be getting an even more immodest upgrade. This was the ‘mild’ costume Brooke had planned for her, as much as it hurt Ava’s head to acknowledge. Once their efforts picked up some speed and they started … ‘taking things farther’ … and she gained some popularity, or more importantly funding, then Ava would be due for another change of uniform. 

Well. She’d worry about that later. One step at a time, that was how Ava had always kept herself moving forward.

And anyways, she had a costume to show off.

Her stomach fluttered with nerves as she gripped the brass door handle to walk out into the living room, where Brooke was waiting. Anxiety, of course, and embarrassment were the culprits of the fluttering. Not excitement. Because why would Ava be excited to show off—to Brooke—a uniform where her ass was vacuum sealed, her tits were falling out from a boob window, and her nipples were poking through the tight material? That made no sense. She and Brooke were best friends, and not anything more. Even if Brooke had the most gorgeous waist-length black hair, the most entrancing emerald eyes, and honestly, hips that—

Ava shook her head to clear it. 

Where had that come from?

She slipped from her room and out to a waiting Brooke.

By the pause, and the way Brooke glanced away by instinct, then forced her eyes back forward because she was supposed to be looking, Ava could tell the costume was a success.

And for a reason Ava couldn’t explain, her confidence surged. Rather than dreading showing herself off, Ava suddenly couldn’t help herself. “I think we’ll need to get nipple tape,” she complained, rubbing a thumb across the offenders to purposefully draw Brooke’s attention there. “It’s not even cold out, and look at them! They’re obvious, right? Or is it in my head?”

“They’re pretty apparent,” Brooke said. “You’re probably right.”

Another person, maybe, would have been fooled by the control in Brooke’s voice, in the easiness of her reply, but not Ava. She’d known her best friend for too long. There was a strained undercurrent beneath the forced levelness in her voice that gave her away.

Ava played oblivious. “And seriously, look how much of my tits are showing. Are you sure this is fine?” She cupped them. “I know we’re going for revealing, but sheesh, right?”

The strangled undertone was more obvious, now, for all that Brooke seemed outwardly composed. “I think it’s perfect. It fits what we had in mind. It looks great on you, Ava.”

Ava beamed. “Aw. Stop being so sweet. Really, you don’t think it’s too much?” She turned around and looked over her shoulder, showcasing the final feature to her costume. “I mean, look at my butt.”

“It’s—It’s well-fitted on you.” The shaky composure had finally morphed from undertone to overtone; Brooke had started stuttering.

Success, Ava internally grinned.

And an instant later, Ava paused, wondering where the thought had come from. Why was Ava’s heart slamming in her chest? Why was she so excit—nervous, stomach twisting and cheeks starting to color? 

Why was she purposefully highlighting what she’d been so embarrassed by, just a few minutes prior? Why was she teasing Brooke?

Was that what she was doing? Teasing?

“And look, feel,” Ava said, closing the gap between her and Brooke, who was seated on the sofa. “See how tight it clings? It’s like I’m not wearing anything.” Ava grabbed Brooke’s hand and guided it to her stomach, forcing her to feel up her abs. “See what I mean?” Since Brooke was sitting, and Ava slightly leaned over, Ava had her tits shoved into Brooke’s face. Her effectively bare tits, too, with how generous the window was.

Which finally did the job. Brooke’s composure broke, and her face turned scarlet. She coughed, leaned back, and looked away, pulling her hand away from where it’d been running across Ava’s stomach. “It’s really more than we could’ve hoped for,” Brooke strangled out. “I-I think I need to grab some water, Aves. Give me a second.”

Brooke fled, and at the sudden emptiness of the room, what Ava had been doing hit her all at once. She suddenly felt like the world’s biggest jerk—or pervert? Or something else.

Why had she acted like that?

Why was her heart still pounding?