Not for now

“Input acceptable. Return to bench,” the Judge said.

Susan whimpered again as the spotlight deposited her back where she had been. She hastily moved her arms now that she was free, the slap as she covered herself echoing throughout the chamber. Barbara moved up beside her, awkward herself, trying to be comforting even if Susan immediately blushed and looked away.

During Susan’s long, embarrassing monologue, the assembled naked companions had come to the unfortunate conclusion that there didn’t seem to be any way out of this bizarre trial. Most had sat down, both to relax and to get what modesty the bench offered, through they were still far too tightly packed, bare shoulder against bare shoulder.

In one corner, Bill Potts was sitting awkward, legs and arms crossed, unable to keep from having her eyes dart around and trying very, very hard to work out if this was more of a dream or a nightmare. Surrounded by naked women – plus. Being naked in front of said countless strangers – very distinct minus.

It didn’t help that a remarkable amount of the women around her had markedly paler skin than her own. She wasn’t sure if that was reflective of anything, but it definitely made her feel like she stuck out even more.

She bit her lip to keep from making a sound. Nevertheless a nearby woman turned to her, short red-brown hair hanging loosely down either side of her face, giving the impression of being both immaculate and dishevelled. There was a distinct pink to her cheeks. Her eyes darted around with probably a different motive to Bill’s, looking much more on edge.

“Um, hi?” Bill said.

She squeaked. She turned, looking back at Bill cautiously. Her arms tightened, crossed over her chest; rather than crossing her legs she merely pressed her slightly bony thighs very, very tightly together.

“I’m Bill,” Bill said, as comforting as she could manage. “You ok?”

“Is anyone?!” the woman said. She hesitated, and reigned her embarrassment in. “Helen. What’s going on?”

“Something about gathering female time travellers in the buff,” Bill said. “Not a clue to be honest. Can I ask, uh, when are you from? You seem to be…”

Struggling would be the best word, then again it wasn’t like Bill was doing all that much better. Helen just seemed to be from a more sheltered time if her reaction to so much nudity was anything to go by.

“Sixties,” Helen said. She hesitated. “Nineteen sixties. Earth.”

“Oh. Oh wow,” Bill said. “Um, twenty tens. You don’t… look very sixties.”

Bill’s gaze drifted down despite herself. Helen followed her gaze, then squeaked, momentarily flashing her tits as she moved to cover her cunt up with a hand.

“Liv’s idea!” she squeaked. “Um, woman I, um, travel with. She’s probably here. Somewhere.”

“Do you want to look for her?” Bill said.

“I don’t want to move!” Helen whimpered.

She pulled back, flushing.

Meanwhile, somewhere else down the bench, a very naked woman with wild dark hair was still standing and shouting in a vaguely Scottish accent. She was waving her hands around, emphatically refusing to act the slightest bit self-conscious, even if she was so close to the ****-barrier in front of the bench that everyone behind her could see her ass.

“Hey! You! Robot boy! Yoo hoo!”

Clara looked up sharply at the sound of her voice. She’d spent the last few minutes, while Susan had been exposed and speaking, trying vainly to find if there was any comfortable way to sit while stark naked and in the middle of a room surrounded by people.

“Potential juror will cease causing a disturbance,” the Judge said.

“Oh she will not. As fun as that was, do you know who I am? Sure, pluck all these… people out of time, but I refuse to be grouped in with them,” the angry Scottish woman said.

“You are a potential juror. You will await your turn,” the Judge said.

“I’m Missy,” she said. “If you have a database, look me up, and unless you want me to start killing your precious jurors I want to go right back to where you took me from. Dressed, if you’d be so kind.”

Several women near her started to shuffle away nervously. When the Judge didn’t respond, she rolled her eyes and made a grab for the nearest woman (a squirming girl with long, dark red-brown hair that fell in waves around her face) only for the air to crackle.

“No harm is allowed to be done to the jurors,” the Judge said dispassionately. “Field in place.”

“Well you’re no fun,” Missy said. “Pretty sure you don’t want to lock a Time Lady up.”

“Two Time Ladies,” another voice came from another corner of the courtroom, that one from another dark-haired woman, who might have been almost regal if not for being utterly naked.

“Three Time- no, wait, technically still two,” a bright-red blonde added her voice. “Lady President of Gallifrey if it counts for anything. I’d really prefer to not be naked right now.”

“Another technically two,” yet another dark-haired, even paler-skinned woman called. “Also Lady President of Gallifrey.”

“Two and a half,” came a call from one of the few utterly shameless women, her hair falling in long wild curls down her back and not bothering to hide any of her body. “My husband’s a bit protective you know. Not a President, but I think I do technically count as a Queen on a few planets. Plus Empress on a couple more.”

“And I’m a Pharaoh! I demand to be returned-”

“Silence!” The Judge’s voice rose. “Diplomatic mishaps will be handled when jury selection is over. Interviews continue.”

All voices cut off in sudden nervousness as the spotlight lit up again.