A Companion Conundrum

The Doctor's body, for the first time since she 'developed' her twerking addiction, is completely still. Well, nearly completely - I can see minute tremors in her limbs as she wills herself to remain still and focus. Her expression is one I'm well familiar with by now, a mixture of pain and pleasure that she can't quite **** one way or another, but the way she's biting her bottom lip and the look in her eyes betray the frantic mental calculations she's running. Does she know? Has my power failed? Then she lets out a long, shuddering moan of agony and ecstacy and I reflexively squeeze her ass lightly. "Keep- Keep doing that," she pants, "takes my mind off the... the... Oooooohhh, that's better..." she trails of with a sigh as I squeeze harder.

Eventually, the pain seems to subside and she begins to bounce again, grinding her ass up and down against the bulge in my pants. "Sorry," she says, some of the earlier pep returning to her voice, "I'm, ah, temporally sensitive. Anything that changes the timeline too much makes me a bit, y'know, uncomfortable." Blowing out a long breath, she suddenly bucks her hips back hard enough to knock me away, then quickly struts around the console, flipping switches and twiddling dials as she goes. "And something just changed it massively," she says, looking at me with a grave expression, before it softens at my look of feigned (rather expertly, if I say so myself) horror, "or tried to, anyway."

Tap-click-whoosh go the dials and levers, and suddenly a pair of bright holograms are springing out of the console showing a dark-skinned woman in a red leather jacket. One is leaning over a computer of some kind with a determined look on her face, dressed in flared jeans that flatter her figure but don't exactly flaunt it. The other is pictured from behind in a deep, spread-legged squat that really highlights how her huge bubble butt stretches her denim booty shorts to their absolute limit - seriously, the seams are visibly straining to contain all the junk in her trunk as she looks back over her shoulder with a playful pout on her lips.

"Meet Martha Jones," the Doctor explains, gesturing to the squatting woman, "regular doctor, guerrilla leader, UNIT operative and as you can clearly see - just like every other woman I've ever traveled with - a phat-assed, horny bitch. The only problem is, the databanks are insisting that this-" She waves her hand towards the one standing over the computer. "-is Martha Jones, who is basically everything the original is, minus the stuff related to being a phat-assed, horny bitch. Thanks for calling them that, by the way, makes it so much easier to describe."

"So... What can we do about it," I ask, my heartbeat finally slowing now that she believes that the versions of the women she's cycling through on the projector that I described are the originals.

"Glad you asked," she chirps, throwing a lever that makes the hologram wink out of existence. "The fact that I've - sorry, we've - got both sets of data here means that they're either one or the other. And there's a thread of data running through each possible timeline that links them all to each other, so as long as a version is true for one of them, it's true for all of them." She sashays her way back around to my side of the console and shoves me shockingly hard, knocking me back into a puffy leather armchair that wasn't there when I last looked. "Now," she announces, flipping a switch, dropping down into my lap and grabbing the arms of the chair as she wiggles her hips, "this might be a little bumpy."

Before I can reply, the room lurches hard enough to bounce the Doctor clean out of my lap, before she drops back down again. I throw my head back and groan as she begins to roll her hips in time with the column at the centre of the console rising and falling, half from the sensation and half from the forces pressing down on the rest of me as the entire room seems to go on a rollercoaster ride. God, I think to myself as my blood tries to rush to both my heads at the same time, I hope this isn't how she normally flies this thing...