[ENF] The Nudity Engine

[Meepo]

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.

[Mackie]

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

[Meepo]

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...”

[elalamein]

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

[cerindclvr]

bloody delightful! I love these.

[Meepo]

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...

[sponguesam]

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

[Meepo]

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...”

[Meepo]

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...”

[Meepo]

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.”