On the Way to Clara's Room

There had been...issues with her room aboard the TARDIS in the past. On more than one occasion the ship had moved it, or else deleted it entirely, so she was **** to stay in the console room into the wee hours of the morning...or night...or whatever time it was on a spaceship that also had the ability to travel through time. As Clara made her way down the corridor, she hoped against hope that it was where it was supposed to be, she didn't much fancy having to make her way back to the console room like, well, like this. She cast a glance downward and smacked her forehead. Idiot, to not realise there would naturally be a catch with anything the TARDIS presented to her. What was she thinking? She cursed her own stupidity, for it had cost her the one bit of underwear she had on her, now she was awkwardly shuffling down the TARDIS' network of hallways and corridors toward her room, clad in nothing but the top half of a bright blue sailor suit, her bottom half entirely unprotected.

Even for the short time she'd been walking back to her room for, already the TARDIS was exploiting her lack of any sort of trousers or knickers. Three times already the metal flooring under her feet had suddenly turned into metal grating, powerful blasts of compressed air and steam shooting right up into her exposed undercarriage. The first time it had literally taken her breath away, the second she'd let out an involuntary moan, then swiftly clapped her hands over her mouth, horrified. The third she'd noticed the grating just in the nick of time and dodged out of the way...only to back up right into a wall that the TARDIS had picked that exact moment to suddenly make extremely cold. After that, she had walked with her hands on her poor, frozen butt cheeks, trying desperately to warm them up for several long minutes.

She continued on up the hallway toward a junction, so preoccupied with trying to remember which way her room was that she missed a fourth blast of steam. This one was so powerful it blew the sailor suit right up and off of her. Clara stood there, taken completely by surprise. When she recovered, she realised with some dismay that she was now completely naked. She hugged herself feebly, and turned around, searching for the sailor suit. Spotting it a few feet away in a crumpled heap on the floor, Clara went over to it and knelt down on all fours to retrieve it. This proved to be a mistake, as at that exact moment a fifth column of air, more powerful than all the others, rose up from beneath the floor.

Clara's senses were overloaded, the noise was deafening - a cacophonous hissing filling her ears; and her entire body was warmed up far more than she would have liked, as the hot air ran over her skin and rushed into all her crevices. Her tits bounced like mad, those elusive nipples of hers finally coming out to play and sticking as far out as they could go in response to the sudden temperature change; meanwhile at the other end, her arse cheeks jiggled in the most divine way, the soft surfaces of those perfect buns feeling as if they were being spanked by the superheated hand of a Pyrovile. As for her pussy, the warmth and the sudden feeling of it blasting into her had brought her to the edge of climax in seconds, and ultimately it was only the loudness of the steam that drowned out her high-pitched, primal whimpering. She would have collapsed if not for the sheer **** of the blast keeping her in that pose, kneeling on all fours without a bit of clothing on her. After around thirty seconds, the blast of air finally subsided, and Clara fell onto her front, gasping as she tried to catch her breath, her face a bright, almost luminous red, and her entire body now slick with sweat.