Sabotage the machine before the presentation

“….We’ll no longer risk getting our fingers nibbled by the Nibbling Tadpoles when we go wash our clothes!” Jasmine bowed in front of the adoring public. Well, actually a small crowd of lukewarm enthusiasm. Watching the unveiling of a new washing machine was not a terribly interesting proposal for the other elves on the campus.

The machine was a behemoth. Four different conveyor belts twisted around massive water tanks with driers and sponges, not unlike those found at a car wash. Cranes for carrying baskets of laundry moved overhead, the circuit ending (or rather looping) at a massive wooden beam where the hanging clothes dried-off thanks to a giant fan powered by a water mill.

The machine was… not very elf-like. You could tell that Orchid probably got inspiration from her Dwarf grandpa… or maybe her Goblin aunt. There was probably an easier way to wash clothes, but this was the most spectacular way to do it.

The contraption clashed with her supposed inventor. Jasmine was a nerdy yet stylish woman, she was a pale elf with square glasses and a slim body. Her chestnut hair styled into an impeccable bob cut, her dress lively and sophisticated, her high-heeled boots imported from the human realm… not that she would ever admit it.

“To start, all we need is to put the cleaning agent in the water tank…” Jasmine walked to a wooden vending machine and pulled a lever. The contraption whirred as it produced an orange pod from its opening. The pellet fell to the floor next to Jasmine’s stylish white boots… why did it smell like sugar? That wasn’t’- “Kyaaa!”

The pod exploded into a semi-flexible pink goo. Like an explosion of chewed-up bubblegum that engulfed Jasmine’s legs, trapping her on the stage. “Ewww, this is so sticky! Someone get me out of here!” Jasmine grimaced, her face contorting as if she had sucked on a lemon.

“Heh, will do!” Orchid whispered. She was sitting on the edge of the water tank and kicking her legs with glee. She twisted a knob on her jury-rigged remote control, and the crane overhead moved until it was above Jasmine. Orchid lowered the hook and latched it to her undergarments. She pulled up…

“Owie! That hurts! S-stop pulling! Eeck! P-please don’t look.” The crane lifted Jasmine above the gum by her underwear. It did so at the cost of her pants, hose, shoes, and half her skirt that remained glued to the substance. The crowd grew more interested in the presentation. Even the headmistress raised an eyebrow.

Jasmine’s milky legs dangled above the astonished crowd, but she was still not showing anything indecent. The sensation of her underwear digging up between her legs constantly reminded her of that small comfort. Still, it was quite an awkward situation to be in… at least the machine seemed to have stopped malfunctioning.

“Time for phase 2,” Violet muttered, turning a bolt loose on the pulley system. With a mechanical screech, the hooks transported Jasmine above the water tanks, where they released her. The nerdy woman fell inside the blue liquid with a big splash.

“Argh!” Jasmine cried out, swimming to the top and spitting... Wait a minute, that wasn’t water! “What is this lemon stuff? Is this a slime? Ewwww! What is happening to my clothes? I have to get out of here!”

Jasmine desperately climbed out of the tank and landed on a conveyor belt. Too late. Every pore on her skin tingled with the sensation of the surprisingly gentle acid. Nothing remained of her wardrobe but for a strap of her dress that clung uselessly to her pale shoulders.

Jasmine stood like a deer staring at the headlights. The small crowd was getting bigger, but it still felt like the whole world was staring directly at her. Patches of the slime clung on, slowly dripping to the ground near her painted toes. Her arms were at her sides. She was too stunned to move them over her small breasts, her shaven sex, or any other part of her slim figure.

“Looks like someone needs a bath,” Orchid said, pushing a button on her control. The dispenser shot another glue pod at astonishing speed. It hit Jasmine above her breasts, knocking her down on the conveyor belt and securing her to it like a spider web, the sticky substance enveloping her chest.

“Should we stop this, headmistress?”

The headmistress massaged her temple. “No, this might be part of the presentation.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then it’s a good cautionary tale.”