Bad Wolf

Clara stared over the TARDIS console at a pair of very angry, very scottish eyebrows. The Doctor was busy looking at the controls, pulling levers and tapping buttons in a fashion he swore wasn't rando, the rotor grinding in the middle of the chamber.

As soon as it quietened, he reached for a screen, glancing at it.

"Alright!" he said. "According to this we're in your future, Earth orbit. Some kind of station."

"Excellent!" Clara said, bounding for the door. "Let's have a look-see then."

"Don't wander off!" the Doctor said. He didn't look away from the screen, tilting his head. "This looks familiar. A little earlier maybe, but..."

There was a flash of light from the far side of the TARDIS doors. The Doctor whirled around; he took a few steps to the open TARDIS door, not crossing the threshold. Curiously he sniffed the air.

"Transmat," he murmured. "Why is it I say 'don't wander off' and they _never _listen?"

He stuck his head out, turning from side to side. A moment later and his eyes widened, spotting the 'Bad Wolf Corporation' emblazoned on a wall of the space station.

"I know where we are!" he declared to no one in particular, eyes going wide. "Platform 5!"

Clara rubbed her eyes, slightly woozy. What had... She'd just walked out of the TARDIS, then there had been a flash of light, now she was... lying down somewhere?

Blinking, she sat up, eyes settling on a pair of humanoid robots. Both were pale, one outlined with blue, the other with purple. They were staring at her, though thankfully neither seemed to be armed. That was usually a good start when it came to adventures with the Doctor.

"What- What happened?" Clara said.

"Just relax," the blue robot said. "We're giving you a brand new image."

"Huh?" Clara said.

It slid away, apparently the faux-skirt made from plastic concealing wheels. The purple robot moved with it; curiously Clara sat up. She paused for a moment, glancing around.

It looked like some kind of studio. A mirror on one wall, racks and racks of clothes set against another, a make-up table at yet one more... Set into various corners she noted lenses, probably some kind of cameras by the look of things, capturing footage of the room from all angles.

"Wait," Clara said. "Have I ended up on a makeover show?"

"Absolutely!" the robots chimed in unison. "Now just stand there and let the defabricator do its magic."

"The- what?" Clara blinked.

She shifted to her feet, suddenly catching sight of a... something set into the floor. Ok, reality TV was one thing, but it didn't normally have gun-looking things on-

There was a flash of light. Clara tensed as a beam of light shot out from the 'defabricator,' striking her; after a moment though she exhaled. Ok, it didn't hurt. If anything it felt warm. No, wait, it was definitely cooler.

As the beam faded she glanced down, and then shrieked. It had taken her clothes! Of course, de-fabric-ator, what had she expected?! Blushing furiously, she crossed one arm over her chest, dropping one hand lower over her pussy, eyes widening. She yelped again as she remembered the cameras.

The robots regarded her, perfectly casually.

"Am I-" Clara squeaked. "Am I naked in front of millions of viewers?"

"Absolutely," the robots chimed again.

Clara whimpered.