The (N)Ood Sphere

Again, she awoke flustered and dripping. This time, to her unending shame, the mattress sported a huge wet spot, about the size of a manhole cover. Marilyn was already gone, and Clara had to stop herself from wondering if she'd skedaddled because she'd just plain had her fill of fun, or if she'd actually witnessed her wetting the bed and fled in disgust. Clara first took off her nightie, which sported a matching wet spot down the front, and stripped the mattress, then flipped it. Next, she changed into something fresher and returned to find The Doctor. "Still a couple hours left," he greeted her, without looking. At that, the TARDIS shook violently, forcing Clara to grab onto a rail for support. "Turbulence, just turbulence," he added. "What can I do for you?"
"I fell asleep. Again."
"I'd have thought you'd want to avoid that." He buzzed the screwdriver probingly at one of the console's components, the sound made her flinch and cover her crotch. He didn't notice, or if he did he pretendee not to. "It's not my fault," she said, "it...it's like I get tired, just out of nowhere. More tired than I've ever been in my whole life, and I just..."
"Can't..." he pulled at an exposed wire. "Stay..." Bashed a protruding bit of motherboard with the butt of the sonic. "Awake..." Twiddled a metallic, spiky knob. "Been there, done that. That was psychic pollen, of course. Nasty stuff, but I've upgraded the ventilation system since then..." he frowned. "Or I might have just finally figured out how to turn it on. Not really sure. Anyway, as I say, we've got a while yet before I can punch through; currently siphoning the heat energy from Sundari Major's sun into the Eye of Harmony to give her some extra welly. You'll be the first to know when I'm done, though."
"What about Marilyn and...?"
"Sigmund? Dropped them off back home. Well, Sigmund I dropped back home, left Marilyn at the Maldovarium for a spell, she's always wanted to play 'one of those wild alien clubs she's heard so much about', and Dorium Maldovar's a friend—well, acquaintance...well, just his head, actually; his body and I parted on bad terms." He flapped his hands illustratively, then mussed his hair. "Did you get on well?"
"Yup," Clara pursed her lips, refusing to elaborate further, "Sleep was interrupted, obviously. Thought I'd come back here and prod you a bit about the Ood Sphere."
"Prod me? About what?"
"Anything you can tell me. What are the...um, Oods like? How should I dress? That sort of thing."
The Doctor considered it, then gave a nod. "Alright. Pull up a chair, and I'll tell you a story about a kind, brave people, who risked everything for a shot at freedom."

Two Hours Later

The landscape was a swirl of white and silver. From the mountains, spires of carved rock and sculpted ice jutted upwards to press insistently at the cool blue sky. Clara stepped out into a deep snowdrift, stumbling slightly as it gave way beneath her. She put out her hands to catch herself, the leather gloves she was wearing sinking deep into the drift, the feathered sleeves of her thick winter coat fluttering in the bracing wind. "You alright?" The Doctor touched her back, then hauled her up by the shoulder. "Careful where you step! There's no end to the snow; on the Ood Sphere it hardly ever stops, and the temperature's mostly too cold for it to ever melt so it just...compacts."
"Perfect for skiing," Clara suggested, breathlessly, adjusting her hood so she could better see the structures in the distance, "or is that insensitive in light of..."
"The slavery? I'd err on the side of caution and assume yes." The Doctor swept an arm in the direction of the mountain range. "Habitable structures symbiotically constructed from entirely natural materials! Only took them about six years!"
"Six? From..."
"The Day of The Radiant Chorus, the day the Ood freed themselves. Busy bees, the Ood...granted, the universe gave them a bit of a boost but still, it's impressive."
"What do you mean the universe 'gave them a boost'?"
"The Web of Time's a fragile system, before the Time War my people fussed at it every day like clock keepers, ensuring every last strand stayed in its proper place. With them gone it began to fall into disrepair, so it...reached out," he closed his fingers into a fist, "grasped for a civilisation with the requisite level of psychic potential and empowered them, sped up their evolution, all to pave the way for the Ood Sphere to become a new Gallifrey."
"But Gallifrey's back, right? Won't the Time Lords be—"
"Cross?" The Doctor grinned. "I expect so, but for now they're stuck who-knows-where! They can hardly stamp their feet and demand they get a vote in how the supra-quantum temporal order they established goes about maintaining itself in their absence, now can they?"
"Suppose not." Clara scanned the horizon, the arcing skybridges connecting one section of the vast field of settlements to the next, the glittering simplicity of it. Beautiful, she thought. If only she were here under circumstances that were less...compromising. Even under all the layers she was wearing, she couldn't shake a lingering sense of exposure. The dreams were starting to take their toll; she was sure they were escalating every time she had one, becoming more ****, more scorchingly humiliating. That last one... Masturbating with the sonic? Wetting herself in front of the entire student body of Coal Hill? It was so...depraved, so twisted, like the product of a perverted mind wanting her to squirm and squeal and cringe as much as humanly possible. She didn't want to believe it was all her doing, that on some level her subconscious was betraying her...but what was the alternative? That a wholly separate consciousness entirely was doing it? The strange, otherwordly voice in her head sounded foreign to her, unfamiliar. On the one hand, she wanted to get to the bottom of this, but what might she find at the bottom of all this? What might the Ood find with her? Or The Doctor?
"Come on!" The Doctor grabbed her hand and tugged at her wrist. "We have a date with Ood Sigma!"
They felt eyes on them as they drew closer to the heart of the Ood city. At first, it was just a sense of being observed by unseen watchers, but bit-by-bit their hosts made themselves known. Figures in robes of white, robes of black, robes of grey and purple and blue, many of them coming out from hidden nooks and crannies in high mountain walls and cave hollows as Clara and The Doctor passed by. True to what The Doctor had said, they were best described as 'squid-faced'; they had no mouths to speak of, just an oval-shaped opening obscured by a field of dangling, pale pink tentacles. They had kind eyes, though; kind, but not docile. The eyes were intelligent, their gazes thoughtful. In their hands, they carried tiny pink spheres, connected to their 'mouths' in some way Clara couldn't quite see. "What are those?" she whispered.
"Brains," The Doctor whispered back.
"Brains?" Clara's brow furrowed. "What do you mean brains?"
"I mean the Ood have two brains—three, actually, if you count the hive brain—one in their head, one in their hand."
"Wow..." She looked back at the crowd they'd just passed, some of them were starting to follow, taking tentative steps after them through the gleaming snow. "Why are they following us?"
"They...are fond of me."
"Fond of you?" Clara quirked an eyebrow.
"Don't look at me like that. Lots of people are fond of me. Some of them are even brave enough to show it." That stung, he hadn't meant it like that, but it stung just the same.
"So, what, you're an Ood Sphere celebrity?"
He snorted. "If you like. I'm not entirely sure this lot would even disagree."
They walked on, closer and closer to the glittering mountainside spires, the Ood gliding silently along in their wake.

"Ood Sigma!" The Doctor strode forward as they entered the cavernous interior chamber. Its ceiling was made of sloping, natural rock, and gaps had either been left as they were or purposely carved out in the cavern wall to their right to provide a breathtaking overlook onto the buzzing hive of activity below. Clara peered out of one of these 'windows', catching sight of a collection of gently rippling cloth canopies that appeared to be shielding some kind of open-air market or bazaar from the elements. She ducked back inside, shivering from the cold and brushing a few stray snowflakes from her sleeves. When she turned, she was greeted by the sight of The Doctor beaming at an Ood in black overalls. The outfit made him stand out from his brethren, as did the strange plastic ball he seemed to be keeping his extra brain inside, which lit up to emphasise what he was saying whenever he spoke. Over his breast, a symbol was printed onto the fabric of the overalls. At a glance, it looked...she wanted to say Greek?
"Doctor," Ood Sigma said, in greeting. He had a pleasant voice, almost sing-song. "Your song continues, this pleases us."
"Ah, yes, I do look a bit different to when we last met."
"The deceptions of the physical world are of little consequence, your appearance may change but your essence remains clear and elephant," at that, Ood Sigma paused and rapped the plastic sphere against his palm. "Forgive me. Your essence remains clear and radiant; you are a being of many facets, Doctor. All light is refracted through you, all darkness dispelled by you."
The Doctor pursed his lips, patting Sigma awkwardly on the arm. "A little strong, perhaps, but I appreciate the sentiment, old friend. How goes the civilisation-building? I see you've made progress since the last time I was here."
"Time has changed, we endeavour to change with it. There was a great shift, not so very long ago, and yet an eternity from here and now; the red jewel of Kasterborous shines proudly in our dreams again. The Time Lords of Gallifrey live."
"Somewhere out there, yeah...I'm working on it. That's not what brings me here, however." The Doctor turned to Clara and beckoned for her to come closer. She obliged, bowing politely to Ood Sigma. "Um...hi. Pleased to meet you, The Doctor's told me a bit about you."
"Greetings," Sigma blinked and cocked his head slightly. "You are Clara Oswald."
Clara's eyes widened. "Uh...yes? How did you...?"
"Fragments of your self were sheared away from you. For a time you were lost, but The Doctor found you. You will be lost to him again, in time; it will last forever, but you will be glad of it," Ood Sigma said, matter-of-factly. Clara's eyes darted over to The Doctor, questioning. Just go with it, he communicated, with a waggle of the eyebrows. "You know why we're here, I assume? I try not to assume as a rule, but you have a history of knowing things you shouldn't."
"Yes," Sigma nodded, still staring intently at Clara, "you are here about your dreams."
She cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah...it's...difficult to talk about, they're..." her blush reignited, simmering gently on her cheeks. "It's kind of...embarrassing."
"We sensed as much." Sigma seemed to float on his heels rather than spin, and beckoned for them to follow as he moved further along the chamber. Not too much, Clara hoped, folding her arms in front of her chest. The coat was heavy, her breasts hidden far beneath it, but they tingled all the same, almost like they were...anticipating something.
The Doctor whistled appreciatively at a raised dais that rose up from the smooth stone floor as they approached it. "Decorative?" he ventured.
"Ritual," Ood Sigma corrected, "there is great power in symbols, Doctor. We have been...rediscovering ourselves since we regained our freedom; forging a new identity for our people from the shadows of our past; focusing rituals, psychic resonance points, meditation techniques, through these arts we achiece greater understanding of ourselves, and of the responsibility we wield."
"You were prepared for this?"
"We are Oodkind, we see things that are, things that have been, things that have yet to be. We are always prepared."
"Ood Sigma, the hope and heart of a people."
"You are too kind, Doctor. Always too kind."
"Yeah, well...I learned it from the best." He clapped Sigma on the shoulder and ushered Clara up to the edge of the dais. "Clara, this is a Sense Circle. Kind of psychic amplifier, linking the minds and perceptions of all who step onto it."
Clara eyed the stone dais curiously. "Which means...?"
"You step on, then we step on, then you think about your dreams and, together, work our way backwards along whatever path they're taking to get into your head."
"But..." she gulped. "Doesn't that mean you'll...see them?"
"Your dreams? Of course."
"But...but..." she couldn't explain why that was such a bad idea, the thought of The Doctor actually seeing the full extent of what was going in her head was mortifying in itself. But they'd come too far, backing out now would be an admission of how much this was getting to her, how much she was burning for him...no, not burning, flooding. What else could she say? What else could she do? She shifted from one foot to the other nervously, wracking her brains for a solution...wait, she thought, after several agonising moments, what if... she could try to steer whatever dreams might come in a less...lewd direction, think wholesome, decent thoughts and hope that somehow translated into a less humiliating display, for the benefit of her dignity if nothing else. It wasn't much of a plan, but the alternative was standing here like a lemming and painstakingly navigating a conversation about all the naughty things this psychic signal was making her dream of, or maybe it was just that the signal was showing her what was already there...she really didn't want to think about it. But the question was, what to think of? She stepped forward, raising her leg to climb up onto the raised lip of the dais. Come on, Clara. Something, anything. Just keep it clean and family friendly...
"Into the centre, please." Sigma gestured at a depression in the stone, carved into the shape of what looked suspiciously like a brain, just big enough for her to stand in. Clara went over, stood on the edge of the depression, and looked back at The Doctor. He gave a thumbs-up, and nodded. Clara made a worried face, and shakily returned it, before turning back around and stepping down into the centre. She waited a beat. Nothing happened. "Uh...now what?"
"Close your eyes and attempt to relax, the circle will do the rest." His voice was soothing, the kind of voice that made you want to listen, made you want to place your trust in him. Think clean thoughts, she reminded herself, think clean thoughts. Closing her eyes and keeping her arms by her sides, Clara tried to relax, dropping her shoulders and taking slow, steady breaths. The circle hummed—so quietly she almost missed it—it was deep and resonant, a heavy bass that made the stone tremble underfoot. Seconds passed, her eyelids started to feel heavy, her arms and legs tingling faintly, as if they were about to asleep. She kept waiting for it to arrive, but when it did, it somehow happened both quickly and gradually, her consciousness fading by degrees into the dream state. Clean thoughts, she repeated. Clean and clear, clean and clear... Clara found herself rolling that phrase around in her head again and again, until it was so familiar that she momentarily lost focus. Clean and clear, like...water, she added, and the instant it crossed her mind, she knew she'd made a mistake. No, no! Don't be dirty, please don't be dirty! Instinctively, she sensed it was too late. Her body felt lighter, the heaviness of the winter gear she'd put on to brave the Ood Sphere replaced with an unsettling feeling of airiness around much of her form, punctuated by a kind of supportive tightness around her crotch, bum and breasts. It almost reminded her of how it felt to wear...

Clara opened her eyes, her stomach turning as she looked down at herself.

A bikini... she was wearing a bikini, and it was far, far too small for her.

[Author's Note: I always enjoy and appreciate feedback in terms of what's working and what isn't, so please feel free to like and/or leave comments!]