A health inspector

The staff room of *The Busty Brew* was quiet, the hum of the machine in the corner the only sound besides the distant murmur of patrons from the bar. Madame Veyra had led Clara, the health inspector, back here under the pretense of reviewing employee records—though the way Clara’s sharp eyes had lingered on the machine suggested she knew this was no ordinary storage closet.

Clara adjusted her glasses, her blouse crisp, her expression stern. "This place is a violation waiting to happen," she muttered, flipping through a clipboard. "I don’t care how *popular* it is."

Veyra leaned against the machine, arms crossed, amused. "Oh, come now. You haven’t even seen the full operation."

"That’s exactly the problem," Clara snapped. "I *don’t* want to see it."

A beat of silence. Then—

Clara’s elbow brushed against the control panel.

The machine **whirred to life**.

Veyra’s smirk vanished. "Oh, *no*—"

Too late. The restraints snapped into place around Clara’s wrists before she could react. The tubes hissed as they extended, pressing against her blouse—

"WHAT THE HELL—?! GET THIS OFF ME!" Clara thrashed, but the machine had already begun. Veyra watched, frozen, as Clara’s struggles grew weaker, her protests dissolving into breathless, disbelieving gasps. The blouse strained, then tore, the fabric dampening as the process took hold.

By the time the machine retracted, Clara’s chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, her blouse ruined—unbuttoned, pierced through, the fabric clinging to skin that now held the faintest swell of liquid. She stared down at herself, horrified.

Veyra exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her mouth. Then, after a long moment, she stepped forward, her voice low, almost gentle.

"Well. That was… unexpected."

Clara’s hands shook as she clutched the remnants of her blouse together. "You—you *monster*—I’m shutting this place down—!"

"Now, now," Veyra murmured, tilting her head. "Think carefully. You *could* storm out there like this, scream to the whole bar what just happened…" She gestured vaguely to Clara’s state. "Or…"

Clara’s face burned.

Veyra smiled, slow and knowing. "There’s only one way out of this with your dignity intact, darling."