The Nudity Engine
 

Bit of flashfiction (pun unintentional). I already have it posted elsewhere along with a few other stories about the same character, but might as well put a copy here because what the hell, right?

Thanks and mad props to Divides for giving me ideas and encouragement.

The Nudity Engine

“Ladies and gentlemen!” declared Amelia Duchagne to the excited crowd, “You have heard of the Spinning Jenny, but what I am about to unveil will make her seem like a crude stone-age contraption!”

She clapped her hands, and the great tarpaulin fell away behind her. “Behold! The Spider Engine!”

It deserved the name. The contraption looked like a great black spider, with pistons and pipes crisscrossing a huge black steam engine fitted with cast-iron limbs. To each limb was attached spindles and reels of thread, and there were also multiple smaller limbs protruding, that held needles and rotating drums. The machine was overall mystifying, and many gentlemen scientists in the crowd reacted with such shock at the black monstrosity that the monocles fell from their eyes. A lady somewhere in the crowd nearly swooned, and called out in shock: “Oh! Such an ugly thing!”

“Ugly, perhaps!” replied Amelia, puffing out her already considerable chest, “But the Engine is highly functional! With enough steam, it can produce any textile product you could possibly imagine!”

“Is that so?” called out a gentleman scientist, fiddling nervously with his hat. “May we ask for a demonstration?”

“Of course!” replied Amelia, adjusting her glasses and pulling on a pair of heavy workmans' gloves. Despite the dangerous-seeming machine, she wore no protection except these and a pair of sturdy boots – she was dressed only in a plain checkered dress in green and brown. “What shall I ask the machine to produce?”

“Neckties!” called out someone in the crowd.

“Very well!” said Amelia, and moved up to the complex control panel. She flipped some switches, and then pulled a giant lever. Slowly, the great spider came to life. It chugged and spit steam, and the great limbs began to move in a strange, almost hypnotic, fashion. The spindles spun and the little arms worked so fast they looked like a blur. Yet, nothing came out of the machine.

“Curious.” said Amelia, “We should see the first neckties by now. Hmm...”

She leaned forwards, over the control panel, trying to peer into the machinery even as it was moving. Abruptly, without warning, she suddenly flew into the air! One of the little arms had caught the front of her dress, and it was lifting her by her collar!

“Oh!” shouted Amelia, kicking frantically as the iron arm lifted her higher and higher over the surprised crowd! She tried to get loose, but only accomplished kicking the sturdy boots off her feet!

Then, another blur of arms grabbed the hem of her skirt. Amelia screamed out in shock, and was joined by several ladies in the audience, as her skirts began to disappear, layer by layer: First the dress of the checkered skirt, then a petticoat, and another one. Her shapely, kicking legs were dressed only in stockings, and not a monocle in the audience remained in its place!

“You brute of a machine!” protested Amelia, “I created you, and I can stop you!”

She struck at one of the great iron limbs with her hand, but this was a mistake: The machine caught hold of her sleeve, and it was torn into nothingness in seconds. The spinning, black arms continued up her arm, destroying what was left of her dress – only the left sleeve remained!

Amelia was now wearing just her corset, undershirt, bloomers and stockings. Her face blushed with anger and humiliation as she kicked at the machine again. Yet, this too was a mistake: Her stockings snagged on the machine, and were pulled off with loud snaps – quickly fed into the hungry machinery.

“Somebody stop this thing!” she cried out in desperation. “Flip the safety switch!”

Her assistant ran to the control panel, but the switches were not labeled! He threw a few randomly, hoping something would happen – and it did:

Amelia was pulled backwards, further into the machine. Within moments, she was concealed behind gouts of white steam. The crowd could hear her scream in panic from within, and her assistant stared powerlessly at the panel. Then a gentleman from the crowd took action: He sprang up, and pulled the great lever.

The machine came to a stop.

The crowd looked fearfully towards the machine as the steam cleared. Out between the great iron arms, climbed the shape of a woman: She was soaking wet, and stark naked! The machine had eaten even her hair-ribbons, and her long wet hair was all that concealed her large breasts. She held one hand before her groin, and her cheeks were flaming red with embarrassment.

“It- it seems I forgot to load it with fabric!” she called out awkwardly. “Alas, the machine works...”

And thus, with her free hand, she raised aloft a handful of neckties.

Nice story. Quick, amusing, like Duchange and the old underwear

Dr. Duchagne & Miss Heat
 

Here's another one from the same series. You can find the rest of them on princebuffoon.deviantart.com if you feel inclined to check them out, alongside with a slightly more serious Cyberpunk story.

Dr. Duchagne & Miss Heat
----

“Brilliant!” exclaimed Amelia Duchagne as she raised the vial of rosy-red liquid. “I have completed the formula!”

Her assistant, who was cleaning up the cluttered lab, looked up from scrubbing the table. “You completed a formula while I was cleaning?”

“Yes! I finally found the missing ingredient: 'twas ordinary soap!”

“Oh. What formula is this?”

“It is intended to enlighten the mind. It will remove base desires and make the imbiber focus only on intellectual practices!”

“Is it safe?”

“We are about to find out!”

With those words, Dr. Duchagne swallowed the pink formula all in one go. A strange expression came over her face, as if the drink had tasted quite foul: She leaned against the table and shook her head. Then she blinked, and turned to her assistant.

“It worked! I can feel my mind being sharpened already!”

She rushed to her blackboard and begun to write long mathematical expressions. They were much too complicated for her assistant to understand – he left Dr. Duchagne to her work, and went to dust off the giant robot.

She wrote for an hour; two perhaps; then a change of mood came over her. Suddenly, the expressions before her seemed dull and uninteresting – she could see that they were pure genius, but somehow she didn't care much about them. Then, her vision begun to blur. In panic, she rushed to her chemistry table, shuffling among the beakers and bottles to try to find the anti-formula she had prepared just in case; alas, her assistant had cleaned, and she could not find it! She coughed, gasped, and sank dramatically to the floor.

Moments later, she rose again...

When she came to her senses, she was quite cold. She blinked, and tried to remember what had happened: Before her, she saw an excited, cheering crowd of men. They were jeering, shouting and clapping, and she shook her head, trying to wake up. Of course! She must be in the middle of presenting the formula, and the potion was wearing off!

She cleared her throat and smiled at the crowd. “Well, as I was about to say-” she spun around to where she expected to see a blackboard, but there was none: Behind her was just a blank wall. She looked confusedly around, and caught a glimpse of something pink. Disoriented, she looked down: It was her own nipple!

She was standing before the crowd dressed only in her bloomers!
Dr. Duchagne blushed crimson, covered her ample breasts, and stuttered at the crowd: “Um- um- what was I about to say?”

“You were about to pull your bloomers down, Miss Heat!” shouted the crowd as one man.

“Oh dear...”

Smashing. I say, that's a jolly good yarn, old bean. ;)

bloody delightful! I love these.

The Phlogiston Incident

“Phlogiston! The source of all combustion!” declared Amelia Duchagne to the crowd of gathered scientists. “Ever since Prometheus stole the flame, fire has been the greatest asset to mankind – indeed, without fire, our magnificent steam engines could not run. But today, Amelia Duchagne reveals a feat rivaling that of Prometheus: I have gathered and refined its very essence!”

She held aloft a crystal vial, in which danced a nearly colorless substance, faintly tinted red.

A woman scientist in the crowd sprung from her seat, her glasses nearly falling from her little nose. “Impossible! You mean you have collected pure phlogiston?”

“Lavender Hutchins, ever doubting my work! I have indeed collected it. And what more is, I have refined it. This phlogisten does not harmonize with living beings; in other words, it will not burn a human being!”

“Impossible!” spoke Lavender Hutchins, arranging the skirts of her blue dress and standing up. “Certainly, if it could be done, I would have accomplished it years ago!”

“Allow me to demonstrate.” said Dr. Duchagne, as she pulled a handkerchief from between her milky-white bosoms. She held this handkerchief over the vial, and pulled the cork: Indeed, the orange flame danced out of the bottle and climbed up on the handkerchief, setting it aflame in Dr. Duchagnes' hand, without harming her the slightest!

“Impossible”, repeated Dr. Hutchins, and she broke away from the awed crowd of scientists to step up on the stage. “Give me that! You must be using some trick!”

She sn*tched the handkerchief from Dr. Duchagne's hand, but as she did so, the flame touched the others' sleeve. Amelia blinked, and tried to shake the fire off, but it would not work: It clung to her wrist like translucent, sticky marmalade.

“Astonishing!” said Dr. Hutchins, staring at the handkerchief. “It really does not burn me!”

“I told you!” smiled Dr. Duchagne, hiding her hands behind her back to conceal the embarrassing fact that her sleeve was on fire. “This particular phlogisten is refined such, that it will burn only cloth!”

There came a gasp from the crowd, and Dr. Hutchins looked up from the handkerchief. Great flames were licking Amelia Duchagne's back, and she did not even seem to notice it! The flame had already bared her shoulders, which were only covered by a thin layer of ash!

“What?” she asked, looking around, “Is there something wrong?”

“Your- your dress-” exclaimed Dr. Hutchins.

“What?” said Amelia, and just then, her dress came apart: It fell to the floor with a loud whumping noise, and she stood before the crowd in but her petticoat and corset. She shrieked, and jumped out of her disappearing dress, but it was too late: The fire had caught her petticoat, and it too was vanishing!

“Water!” cried a man in the crowd, and a few men rushed to leave the room – but most remained, staring at the panicked Dr. Duchagne with awed expressions as the colorless fire brought her glorious breasts into plain view, and she shrieked and covered them with her hands. Before long, though, her hands were more full still, as her petticoat and bloomers vanished, and she crouched stark naked before the crowd, covering her shame with nothing but her hands! A final flame leaped up to her head, and her hair came undone, falling in a great cascade around her as the fire finally died.

“I- um- as you can see,” she said weakly, “I am completely unharmed!”

An amused smile passed over Lavender Hutchins' face. “I'll admit it: The naked truth is that you were right.”

Laughs roared from the crowd, and Amelia swallowed, blushing even harder. Then she realized something, cleared her throat, and spoke up.

“What became of the handkerchief? It was soaked in the stuff!”

Lavender Hutchins's smile froze on her face. She had stored it as any lady would: In her cleavage...

Why can't anyone ever make videos out of such creative stories?

The Paris Panties Problem

“As you can see, Dr. Hutchins, my balloon works.”

Amelia Duchagne gestured out over the magnificent view. They were standing in a large basket, hovering over the River Seine. All of Paris was visible to them, and it seemed as though they were flying higher than even the garish construction Gustave Eiffel was undertaking. Above their heads was a massive golden sphere: This was the balloon itself, its interior heat being provided by a phlogisten burner of Dr. Duchagne's own invention.

“I'll admit, it's impressive.” said Dr. Hutchins, adjusting her glasses with a nervous expression. “Will you take us down, now? Your inventions are usually dangerously flawed, and I'd rather examine this contraptions' faults from the ground.”

“Dangerously flawed? Poppycock, Dr. Hutchins.”

Abruptly, the bottom of the basket gave way. The two women immediately tumbled downwards! Amelia's hand shot out to the strap of a sand-bag, halting her fall. Lavender Hutchins, for her part, fell further, and a second later she was hanging from Dr. Duchagne's legs. The two women were dangling from the bottomless basket, high above the river.

“Oh dear,” said Amelia, “Perhaps you were right.”

“Perhaps? My dear Dr. Duchagne, that is quite the understatement,” replied Lavender, looking up at Amelia's petticoats. “Hold still. I will climb up your body and deactivate the phlogiston burner.”

“No!” protested Amelia, “Let go! The Seine will catch you safely-”

Lavender was not listening. She reached higher on Amelia's legs, trying to pull herself up. She got a steady hold of a bunch of cloth, and decisively, she heaved herself upwards. One inch- six inches-

There was a sudden ripping sound, and Amelia heard a scream. Looking down, she could see Lavender Hutchins tumble through the air, holding a great amount of whipping white cloth in her outstretched hands. Moments later, she fell in the river with a loud splash. Amelia nearly swooned, seeing how far down it was, but she was relieved to see Lavender come up swimming.

“It was a good idea, Dr. Hutchins.” she muttered to herself. She reached for another strap, and begun to climb the inside of the basket. Before long, she had the phlogiston burner within reach, and turned the dial. The wind whipped through her skirts and her legs felt strangely cold, as the balloon floated sideways. Little by little, it swept away from the Seine and slowly sank towards the Notre Dame! Amelia tried to reach for the steering mechanism, but it was out of reach, on the other side of the basket.

“Oh shoot!” she declared to herself, seeing the wall of the cathedral approach much faster than the ground. She made a split-second decision: As the walls of the Notre Dame came ever closer, she reached again for the dial, turned it up to maximum, and jumped!

The balloon shot off upwards like a rocket, narrowly avoiding the collision! Amelia herself tumbled through the air, her skirts whipping about her – and then suddenly, they shot up over her head as she jerked to a halt!

Her skirt had caught on a gargoyle. The resulting force had pulled her dress up almost completely over her head, and her naked legs were flailing wildly above the citizens of Paris.

“Mon Dieu!” shouted a man, “She isn't wearing any underpants!”

It was true: Amelia still wore her shoes, stockings and corset, but to her horror, she could feel the warm breeze of Paris stroke her naked buttocks. She hung there helplessly, suspended above the gaping crowd, with the gentle blond triangle of her womanhood on public display! Desperately she struggled to pull her skirts down or herself up, but it was utterly impossible.

“Excusez-moi!” she called out in a polite and barely-restrained voice, “Could anyone help me down?”

“You are in luck, my lady!” came a shout from below. “The famous daredevil Saint-Pierre Martin is going to scale the Notre Dame today! He will get you down tout suite!”

“Saint-Pierre Martin?” said Amelia, and her cheeks flushed hot with shame, “Will that not draw a huge crowd?”

“Oui madame!” the voice responded, and the sound of a magnesium flash accompanied it. “Us journalists are already here waiting for him.” There came another flash. “Hold still, s'il vous plaît...”

The Animal Magnetism

“Is this quite safe?” asked her assistant curiously, as Amelia Duchagne donned her goggles.

“Of course it is. Reviving such a small creature as a frog requires very little electricity. You see, its animal magnetism field is quite small. Do not worry.”

With that, she pulled the great lever beside her. Her assistant stood back, watching the contraption and shaking his head. It consisted of two enormous copper plates, with a dead frog placed on a glass table betwixt them. “Confounded magnets,” he said to himself, “how do they work?”

A moment later, he was almost blinded by the intense light. Bright blue electricity arced between the copper plates and grounded itself in the dead frog, which shook violently. It was over in a second.

Amelia Duchagne removed her goggles and approached it. The room smelled strongly of ozone, and the air still crackled with electricity, but this did not seem to bother the scientist. Unafraid, she picked up the little frog – and to her assistants' astonishment, he could hear it croak!

“Do you see, Charles?” said Amelia, “By restoring its animal magnetism field, I have given it life! It is now charged with electricity, and-”

The frog leaped from her hands. It did indeed seem quite lively – it jumped first to her hair, and then to her shoulder, and as she swatted with her hands to try and catch it, it took another jump straight into her cleavage!

“Oh dear,” said Amelia, “Perhaps the dosage was a bit too strong... Oooh!”

“What happened?” wondered Charles, looking curiously at his employer. Her mouth was a round O-shape, and her blue eyes were wide open. She looked quite shocked.

“It is nothing dangerous, I – ooh! Eek!” said Amelia, as she grabbed her bosoms in a most unladylike fashion, squeezing them together. Charles blinked with surprise as she then began to twist and turn like some sort of Oriental dancer.

“I seem to have – eep! I seem to have electrified the – ooh – creature, and it is, um – oh my! - it is giving off gentle shocks. Oh, ouch!”

Her face contorted into a peculiar expression, with crossed eyes and mouth wide agape. Ignoring any pretense at ladylike behavior now, she pushed her right hand as far down into her cleavage as she could muster, but it seemed the little critter had escaped – judging by the way she was making little jumps forwards, Charles could guess it was at her lower back.

“Undo my dress! Undo my dress!” she commanded. “That's an order!”

Her assistant hesitated, but when she wheeled around to stare at him like a murderous madwoman, he dared nothing but obey. He hurried around to her back and undid the strings of her dress, parting the back so that her shoulders were free. She literally jumped out of it, twisting and contorting in nothing but her corset and petticoats. The frog was still in there.

“Oh, my!” she said, “I think the intensity of the shocks is lowering somewhat. It merely... tingles, now- oh! Oh! Oh dear!”

Her hand reached around to grab the front of her petticoats, and she began digging in them furiously, ripping them away layer after layer. “I say! Get out of there!” she shouted, and Charles watched in astonishment as she tore off everything that covered her bloomers. The frog was sitting in the very last one, but as she tossed it away, the poor critter jumped off it in panic, and landed once more between her breasts!

“Oh! Oooh!” shouted Amelia as the electrified creature nested itself between her bosoms, and a redder blush than Charles had ever seen came over her, as her eyes crossed once more and her expression became strangely unfocused.

“Shall I take off the corset, ma'am?” asked Charles hurriedly, prepared to undo the laces, but the scientist protested:

“N- no! It would be- indecent- I shall... I shall do it myself.”

With those words, she began to run, on shaking knees, towards the exit. It was evident the electricity was affecting her, but Charles was mystified at her behavior – her voice was strangely unsteady, and her demeanor didn't suggest discomfort so much as... something else. Pondering this, Charles shouted out his warning just a little too late.

“No ma'am! That door doesn't-!”

It was too late. Dr. Duchagne had already grabbed a scalpel from a table and burst outside. Charles saw her bring the knife to the corset, as steadily as she could muster, and in one quick slash she cut it apart. Her large breasts veritably burst out from their confinement. She sank to her knees, and a great sigh, almost like a moan, escaped her parted lips as she rubbed her bare breasts and touched her tingling nipples.

“Oooh, it feels so good!” she exclaimed. Then vaguely, she became aware of the sound of shocked gasps and mocking laughter.

She opened her eyes. She had run straight out in the street before her laboratory, and a group of well-dressed women stood gathered before a great crowd of commoners. Every single person stared at her where she knelt, wearing only her bloomers and stockings.

“Miss Duchagne.” said a highly indignant lady. “I represent the Royal Academy of Sciences. We have come to see your invention. I hope this is not what you mean by animal magnetism?”

Amelia swallowed, hugging her breasts with her arms and averting her eyes shyly. “Ah, um, no. If you just let me get dressed, I will demonstrate- I had a frog, you see, and- oh, where did it go? Has anyone seen a frog?”

She became suddenly aware of a tingling sensation on her left buttock.

“Oh dear...”

I'm glad these stories are appreciated! Here's the last of the original six Amelia Duchagne stories I wrote: I have since written two more, and if I can come up with more steampunk tropes and clichés to use, I might write a few more still.

The Sonic Sledgehammer

“Behold! The Sonic Sledgehammer! With this tool, any contraption, any device, can be mended with but a few strikes! It may look crude, with its great brass fittings and steam-tubes crisscrossing the hammerhead, but in actuality it is a powerful tool, tuning in on the anti-resonant frequency of any material. As you all know, the resonant frequency causes a material to break; its anti-resonant frequency will mend it!”

Amelia Duchagne could not believe her ears. She was sitting in the audience of the Royal Academy of Science symposium, and up on stage was her arch-rival, Lavender Hutchins, describing an invention that she, Amelia Duchagne, had made years ago!

“Allow me to demonstrate!” continued Lavender, waving dramatically to a broken steam engine. It was quite clearly a wreck: the metal was rusted, the wheels were falling apart, the tubes were ill-fitting and many of the bolts had simply fallen out. With great showmanship, the short scientist raised the great Sonic Sledgehammer above her head, and struck the steam engine. Instantly, ripples could be seen passing through the metal: The rust fell off, the metal straightened and the tubes fit themselves more snugly in their housing.

There was a roar of applause. Many members of the Royal Academy gave her standing ovations. Such a spectacular invention! Such a fantastic contribution to the field of engineering!

Amelia could take it no longer. “I object!” she shouted, rising from her seat. “This is not your invention! I designed the Sonic Sledgehammer, while I was an apprentice under Yvette Seins-Nus!”

“Is that so?” responded Lavender Hutchins with a triumphant smile. “Then how come you never presented it?”

A slight blush came over Amelia's cheeks. “The invention has... certain flaws.” she explained. “I showed it to my teacher, but she deemed it too dangerous. I agreed.”

For a moment, Lavender looked hesitant – Amelia could see, that however she had managed to steal this invention, she knew nothing of its flaws. She rose from her seat, and begun to walk towards the podium.

“I demonstrated it in private before my teacher and a few other prominent French scientists just before I left for England. I had calibrated it to repair a broken lumber mill”, she explained, taking up a watch from a dress pocket and looking at it casually. “The resulting incident was one of the contributing factors in why I came to this country. You see, Dr. Hutchins, there is no such thing as a purely anti-resonant frequency; every frequency resonates with some substances and anti-resonates with others. I would advice you to dismantle the device before anything happens.”

“Nonsense”, replied Dr. Hutchins. “Nothing here has sustained any damage. Besides,” she taunted, “If it were your invention, wouldn't I be disrobed by now?”

“N- not quite,” said Amelia with a slight blush. “The user is quite safe. However-”

She glanced at her pocket watch. “Oh dear.”

There was a sudden sound, as of a muffled explosion. A cloud of fine dust whirled around Amelia: It was all that remained of her clothing. Her hair fell down around her bare shoulders, and as the dust settled, she covered her breasts and crotch with her hands, standing naked like a Greek statue before the crowd. She was blushing like a tomato.

Lavender could not help but laugh. “My dearest Amelia! That this machine undresses you is hardly proof of anything: Why, I'd be hard pressed to find any invention that could not lead to such an incident.”

“It- it isn't me you should worry about.” replied Amelia. “The mass of my clothing alone is not proportional to the mass of your repairs. It should take... about two or three outfits.”

Lavender Hutchins swallowed. Reluctantly, she turned to face the audience. The head lady of the Academy was staring sternly at her.

“You are wearing my replacement dress, Dr. Hutchins.”

If anyone here has suggestions or requests for what you'd like to see in future Amelia Duchagne stories, feel free to tell me. I won't promise I follow up on them, but if I see anything that catches my fancy I might!

These are fantastic! I am an instant fan. Any and all ENF fiction of yours would be welcome here!

The Anthropology Error

“Are you quite sure of this, Dr. Duchagne?” asked Lavender Hutchins, gazing around uncomfortably in the safari tent. She was not used to the climate, and the heat and humidity was making her quite uncomfortable.

Amelia Duchagne responded from behind a screen, that she had brought with her on the expedition. She was getting changed.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do, Dr. Hutchins! The Amazon tribes are much more likely to be friendly to one, who adopts their customs.”

“Yes, but... to dress in leopard skins! How uncivilized.”

“Quite so, Dr. Hutchins. Yet, if we want their aid to find the islands' rich supply of magnetonium, we must make sure we are on friendly terms with the natives... uncivilized as they may be.”

“And you are sure they dress in leopard skins? Have you ever seen an Amazon?”

“Of course not, Doctor Hutchins! But one can easily deduce it, based on the customs of neighbouring tribes.”

There was a noise from without, and Lavender Hutchins spun around. Peering through the tent-cloth, she swallowed. “I think we are about to find out, Dr. Duchagne. I see shadows without – it must be the natives!”

“Ah, excellent!”

Dr. Duchagne stepped out from behind the screen. She was dressed in the manner of an exotic tribeswoman: A simple dress of leopard skin was wrapped around her body, leaving her arms and most of her long legs – including her feet – quite bare! Her blond hair was not neatly arranged, but instead fell freely over her shoulders. Dr. Hutchins blushed at the indecency, but this was no time for politeness. “Quickly, Dr. Duchagne! Step outside, and greet them!”

“I shall!” declared the other, and adjusting her glasses, strode to the opening of the tent, and exited. Her colleague stayed just inside, peering outside warily.

A great group of amazons stood before the tent. They were tall, dark-skinned women, each dressed in animal hides and armed with great spears. One who seemed to be their leader stepped forth, and spoke in a strange tongue. She raised her hand in a greeting, undid the bone clasp on her clothes, and cast the animal hide before Dr. Duchagne's feet. Underneath it, the amazon wore a woven-grass blouse and a skirt.

“What is she saying, Dr. Duchagne?” wondered Lavender Hutchins, looking at her colleague who had gone quite pale.

“She gives us this hide as a gift. I think it is expected I do the same.”

“Well then, hurry up!” shouted Lavender, seeing the impatient faces of the Amazons. Dr. Duchagne, however, just stood as if frozen.

“What are you waiting for?” Dr. Hutchins shouted, and in panic, tore the leopard skin off her colleague and threw it towards the Amazons.

There was a moment of silence. Then, the Amazons broke into loud, raucous laughter.

“I assure you, Dr. Hutchins... if I had known this was their custom, I would have worn something underneath! Oh dear...”

Incidentally, for those interested in seeing more of his work, you can find more at: http://princebuffoon.deviantart.com/.

My understanding is that Meepo deliberately leaves some stuff only available there to encourage visits to said accounts.

The Mesmerist Mistake

“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present, from the furthest Orient, Mr. Lu Ching, master of mysteries!”

A Chinese gentleman walked up on the stage. He looked rather unremarkable, save for his Oriental robes of blue and red, and a friendly smile splitting his face with a row of perfect, white teeth. He gently flicked his mustaches.

“Very glad to be here,” he said, taking a deep bow to the audience. “Have traveled upon entire world, so good to finally see Britain! In China, learned arts of Feng Shui and alchemy. In Araby, learned art of snake-charming and many interesting things. In India, learned mesmerism...”

“Poppycock!” came a shout from the audience, and the Oriental gentleman looked a little taken aback. Amelia Duchagne had stood up. “I can believe in alchemy and Feng Shui as natural expressions of chemistry and magnetism, and I commend your people deeply for discovering them, but surely mesmerism, or hypnotism as some call it, is merely fiction!”

“Oh? In that case, deeply apologize for presenting mere fiction to audience.” said the Chinese man with a deep bow. This did not seem enough for Amelia Duchagne, however, who strode up on stage, protesting: “There is nothing scientific about the so-called art of hypnotism. It is merely trickery, smoke and mirrors. If I had not intervened, I am sure Mr. Ching here would have brought up an accomplice to 'hypnotize', as it were.”

“Perhaps, if not too much trouble, lady would permit me to demonstrate?” inquired the gentleman.

“Try your best. Make me do something outrageous, if you can.” said Amelia Duchagne confidently, fixing him with her gaze. The man produced an amulet from the folds of his sleeve, and held it up before her eyes. He began to move it like a pendulum from side to side, all the while he chanted some magical words: “Nü Hai Zi Kuai Tuo Yi Fu”.

Nothing happened. The man returned the amulet to his sleeve, pressed his palms together, and bowed for the audience again. “Deeply apologize for presenting mere fiction to audience.” he repeated.

Dr. Duchagne turned to the audience, accustomed to holding scientific lectures. “We should not underestimate the mysteries of the Orient”, she said while she undid her corset. “In many fields, the Chinese are far more advanced than ourselves. The field of Feng Shui, for instance, may build upon principles of the Earths' magnetic field” - here she paused to pull her arms through her sleeves - “principles that we in Britain do not yet understand. Similarly, the Chinese alchemists have accomplished astonishing feats of chemistry.” She pulled her dress down to her waist as she removed the corset entirely.

“However, the fact that this man is trying to present mesmerism as a real science is enough to make me skeptic.” She stepped out of her shoes. “In all likelihood, he is little but a charlatan. A true Chinese scientist, or mystic if you prefer that term, would know the difference between truth and falsehood.”

Dr. Duchagne's naked breasts jumped a little as she turned towards Mr. Ching again. “You are free to continue your demonstrations, Mr. Ching, but I don't think I shall be attending. I have seen enough, to know you for a fraud.”

“Of course. Understand perfectly,” said Lu Ching with a polite bow. “Once more, do apologize to audience. Terribly sorry.”

“Good,” said Amelia Duchagne, shrugging off her open dress until it pooled around her feet. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, I must be on my way. Good day.”

“Ahem. Apologize, but lady has forgotten something.”

“What? Oh, of course,” blushed Amelia Duchagne, “How silly of me.” She pulled down her bloomers to around her ankles, and stepped out of them. “How embarrassing that I should forget. Well. Good day to you all.” she said with a polite curtsy to the audience, and left.

“Once more,” said Mr. Ching to the gaping audience, “Apologize for presenting mere fiction.”

The Ape Escapade

“Ladies and gentlemen!” proclaimed Amelia Duchagne, gazing out over the rather fear-struck crowd.

“I know what I have next to me may seem menacing, but bear with me for a moment! As distinguished men and women of science, you have of course heard of Charles Darwins' theories, and I, Amelia Duchagne, have presented evidence in their support!”

She paused, giving the audience time to study a great ape, chained on the stage next to her. It seemed to be some kind of gorilla, although a very large one. Experts in the audience concluded it must be a female, but of some hitherto unknown, over-sized species.

“I have found a way to advance this creatures' evolution! By exposing it to magnetism, I can elevate its brain-waves to be similar to those of a human! Watch, and be astonished!”

With these words, Amelia Duchagne pulled a lever. The chains fell away from around the great ape, and for a moment it looked quite perplexed. Before it had time to cause any damage, though, Dr. Duchagne pulled another lever, and there was a great humming sound of electro-magnets being activated. The ape looked dumbfounded, and then gradually, some semblance of human intelligence poured into its eyes.

It gazed out over the crowd. Then it screeched in shock, and jumped in behind Amelia Duchagne, as if it were afraid!

“Lucy, don't hide.” said Dr. Duchagne, a little surprised at the ape's reaction. “There's nothing to be afraid of... what's that?”

She leaned down to listen to the chattering sounds the ape was making. It was fortunate, that she had studied the linguistic development of all primates known to man.

“You are ashamed because you are naked?” said Amelia Duchagne, a little surprised. “But... You are an ape, Lucy. You are always naked. What's that? Yes, I am a primate too. Um... No, I do not believe we wear the same size. Why do you... Lucy!”

The great ape picked up Amelia Duchagne. She screamed in panic as the monstrous creature lifted her overhead, and grabbed at her skirts. It was useless to try to fight the great gorilla's strength – there came a sudden tug, and Amelia's skirts were pulled over her head so that the entire dress was peeled off. Lucy let go, and she fell down on the stage dressed only in her corset and bloomers.

“Lucy! Give me my dress at once! Oh dear...”

The gorilla was not listening: She was busy trying to fit into the checkered dress, pulling it down over her own head. The garment was faring poorly, and Amelia was far too busy trying to cover her unmentionables to intervene. Eventually the ape succeeded – though the dress was already bursting at the seams.

“Th- there,” said Dr. Duchagne carefully, “Now you're fully dressed. No need to be scared...”

Lucy shook her head.

“What are you missing?”

The gorilla pointed at her head meaningfully, and advanced on Amelia Duchagne.

“Wh- whatever are you meaning, Lucy? A hat? I'm not wearing a hat. Please, Lucy, all I'm wearing is... Oh dear. They're not a hat, Lucy!” she said, gripping her bloomers with both hands so tightly that her knuckles whitened. It was no use.

The gorilla yanked the white bloomers off her to place them on its head, coquettishly arranging them, while Amelia Duchagne blushed crimson and covered her groin with her hands as best she could, squirming while the audience watched.

“Bad Lucy! Bad! Give them back! Please?”

Lucy shook her head, crossing her arms. It became too much for Dr. Duchagne – so hot with shame that she could power a steam engine herself, she ran hurriedly across the stage. She didn't get far, though, before she tripped on Lucy's chains. The audience gasped as she landed awkwardly, displaying her naked bottom to everyone who had eyes.

In response, an old man stood up applauding.

“A quite convincing demonstration, wouldn't you say? Lucy behaves like a woman, and Amelia like a baboon! Bravo!”

“Oh dear...”

Like the old man's comment, an amusing story.

Great
 

This is great, and needs to be continued!

also...
 

Also if you are going to continue this and want ideas, you should do more like Animal Magnetism. After I saw Flubber for the first time I always wanted to see a story like that.

still abszolutely loving this series... as far as ideas it'd be nice to see more in which her and others around her get made nekkid. Maybe some more play involving the loss of her inhibitions, temporarily making her and others do embarrassing things..?

The Telephone Trouble
 

This has already been posted elsewhere, but in the interest of sharing it with the good folks of OCC, here's another Amelia Duchagne story:

---

The audience looked on breathlessly as Amelia Duchagne strode away from the curious contraption on the stage: She had gotten its wires tangled in the strings to her corset. The inventress herself seemed completely oblivious to this unfortunate mistake; she simply cleared her throat, and addressed the room at large.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I am sure that, in your daily life, you all make use of the wondrous invention that is the telegraph. It is quite convenient to send a short message to friends and family at a distance – but imagine, if you will, a machine that lets them actually hear your voice! That-” here she held aloft a curious black device with two metal funnels, connected to the larger contraption by plenty of wires “-is what I have invented. I call it... the Telephone!”

The audience gasped, not so much at the invention as at the fact that the sudden gesture had almost untied her corset altogether. More and more of what Nature had blessed her with was showing through her increasingly generous cleavage.

“Now that all the wires are attached, allow me to demonstrate. In a nearby building is my assistant, Charles Wraydon. Observe as I use this marvelous invention to turn my very voice into electrical signals, which will reach him almost instantaneously!”

A kindly man in the audience raised his hand, awkwardly adjusting his monocle. Amelia Duchagne took a few steps forward to address him, and in doing so, found herself straining against the wires stuck in her corset.

“Yes, Mister...?”

“Peeping, ma'am. Thomas Peeping. Erm. I couldn't help but notice, you seem to have some trouble with the wiring.”

“I do?”

Amelia Duchagne spun around, and in doing so, tangled herself up in the wires even further.

“Oh dear!” she said, blushing. “It appears I am! Um... let me just-”

She took a step to the side in an attempt to disentangle herself, and accidentally trod on the hem of her dress. This pulled the garment down considerably, exposing her shoulders and some of her back, and she blushed even further as she reached behind her, trying to remove the offending cables.

“I am so very sorry! This will not take long, I assure you.”

She stumbled back towards the machine, in which all the wires were attached. Perhaps she intended to disconnect them, but she never got a chance to – for she had forgotten about all the wires littering the floor. As she hurried across the stage, they were caught around her ankles – and she fell forward, exposing her bloomers to the onlookers.

“I am terribly, terribly sorry!” came her voice as she crawled across the floor, caught up in a mess of well-insulated copper threads. “Don't worry, I'll have this all sorted out in no time whatsoever!”

She regained her footing, but for whatever reason her dress had slid down even further now. She could barely move her arms, and though her back was turned on the audience, they could see enough of it to guess that her breasts had by now been entirely liberated from confinement. Dr. Duchagne found herself forced to pull her arms out of the sleeves, in order to have any sort of maneuverability.

Wrapping an arm around her chest, she turned around and tried to reach down for her ankles. By now, the cables were everywhere, and it was no easy job keeping her balance. She looked around, and spotted a chair. Apologizing once more to the audience, she slowly made her way towards it– but just as she moved to sit down, a loop of cable pulled taut about the chair leg, and drew it off-balance! With a loud shriek, Amelia Duchagne tipped backwards, and disappeared entirely from the audiences' view.

She re-appeared within moments, loose coils hanging all over her naked upper body. Still using one arm to conceal her breasts, she struggled to free herself and managed to wiggle free of her dress in the process, as it had somehow attached itself to the back of the chair. She was now wearing only her bloomers and her shoes, and was blushing furiously.

“I can't understand how this happened,” she said apologetically to the audience as she tried to climb to her feet. “I thought an invention like this would be perfectly safe!”

She scanned the stage for something else to sit on, but she couldn't move very far, attached as she was to the great machine in the center of the stage. She settled on the device itself – it was large enough to serve as a stool. Pulling herself to her feet, she made another unpleasant discovery: The wires caught around her ankles had been pulled taut, and now bound them together. She was forced to make a few humiliating little hops in order to reach the machine, and was quite a spectacle to behold – wearing only her bloomers and wrapped in fine strands of cable.

Finally, she reached the large metal box, and plopped her bottom down on it – but not entirely without incident. The cables were well insulated, but they were not built for this kind of rough treatment; evidently some of the isolation had slipped. Amelia Duchagne made a small yelp, and jumped with the sudden electric shock somewhere on her back. She instinctively reached with both hands to remove the problematic cable, thereby exposing her blushing breasts entirely.

For a few breathtaking moments, Amelia Duchagne fumbled behind her back, looking extremely uncomfortable. Finally a look of relief passed over her, as she successfully removed the wire.

“Don't worry, ladies and gentlemen! The current is quite mild. Uncomfortable, but by no means dangerous! Let me just- Hm. Oh dear.”

It appeared Amelia Duchagne had somehow managed to tie her own hands up behind her back. As any escape artist knows, this is quite a feat – though Dr. Duchagne was less than proud of it, and her struggles to break free made her breasts bounce and jiggle, in full view of the astonished audience. Panicked, she attempted to stand up – only to fall over again!

What could have been a quite painful fall was, however, hindered by the cables. She landed on her knees, leaning forward, suspended above the floor by the many wires crisscrossing her body – particularly one about her waist, it seemed. She sighed in relief, glad to have avoided a close encounter with the floor – until she noticed that the cable around her waist was no cable at all, but the waistband of her bloomers. Little by little, it was starting to give up.

Then suddenly, she spotted the little black device that she had been holding at the beginning of her presentation: The receiver. It was lying quite close to her face. It would be her only chance to get out of this awful situation.

Swallowing carefully, Amelia Duchagne raised her voice, and spoke into it:

“Mr. Wraydon – come here – I want to see you!”

Another well written, cute story of Ms Amelia. I do so admire your tasteful work, Meepo, and as usual, appreciate it to the last drop.
^_^