TARDIS Trouble, Part 7: Grind

One curious side effect of whatever's been done to the Doctor, Aphasia, and their doppelgangers is the total synchronicity they seem to move and, seemingly, think with. Case in point: as they strut three abreast down the winding, distorted hallways of their multiple overlapping TARDISes, their sharp, hip-rolling gait making their enormous cheeks clap faintly with every step and produce a cumulative effect not unlike the steady tapping of a particularly meaty snare drum, all six of them stop, perform a slut drop, and then keep marching as if nothing happened. And not a perfunctory one, either; hands running through their hair, legs opening wide as they squat, a quick bounce to slam their asses against the vinyl-wood-coral floor with a loud WHAP, the works. Still, since D-13 and ZH are involved, there's clearly nothing to be worried about, and I should just enjoy the free show.

A free show that continues a couple of minutes later as they once again stop, this time to thread their fingers into their hair and give their hips a quick left-right shake that fills the air with a sharp double clap that make me wonder if I should even allow the Doctor to ever wear pants again, if this is the kind of bounce and jiggle she's keeping locked up inside them. The next time they stop is when something other than their bodies grabs my attention, as they look back over their shoulders at someone - or something - that I can't see and blow a kiss, while they cock their hips to one side and land a heavy spank on their bubble butts. Perfectly normal, of course, but curious when ZH was so insistent that we get going in the first place. "Not that I mind," I ask once we resume walking, keeping my tone mild, "but is there any particular reason you're practicing your moves? I thought we were in a hurry."

"It's not- Hold on." Without breaking stride, she reaches out and grabs the Doctor and the Whore's heads, the pair letting out shaky groans and shivering mid-step as a web of pink and purple electricity crawls outwards from the Cyberslut's fingertips. "Nice try, ladies," D-13 smirks, "I don't know how you broke free, but don't think I didn't notice you being a hundredth of a second behind the rest of us when we stopped." She lets them go and they slip back into step with their daughters and mistresses, losing a subtle difference in posture that I hadn't even noticed until it was gone. "It's not practice," she says, addressing me once more, "those walking, talking sex dolls from the Wakefield Engine have captured a Command Relay Unit, and they're trying to use her as a hole in the network that they can slam a fat slab of malware into and fill our collective consciousness with their programming. The feedback is forcing us to show off our assets like we're just tits and holes -"

Those four words are spoken in chorus by all six of them, as they stop momentarily to run their hands down their curves.

"-for their non-existent owner to leer at," D-13 continues, as if nothing happened. "Fortunately, Cybersluts are superior in every respect, so once we cut their prisoner off from the network we'll be able to track her location and find out where the core of their timeship is." I take a moment to mull over her words. On the one hand, by the sounds of it letting things play out uninterrupted would pretty decisively tip the current balance of power, and fewer hostile - or 'hostile', I guess - forces to deal with would be great. On the other hand, while D-13 and ZH haven't done anything out of the ordinary yet, we can't expect their unconditional cooperation, and making sure they never feel like they can renegotiate things sounds like a good idea...

"I thought that Command Relay Units normally couldn't be disconnected from their local network," I remark. She turns and gives me a quizzical look, and something about the flicker of suspicion in her eyes is disturbing for some reason. "I do read up on the things I meet occasionally," I say defensively, praying that she'll assume that Cybersluts are among the handful of alien species I actually have had a look at in the TARDIS's library so far and not that I'm lying - which, of course, I am. "Normally Cyberslut Command Relay Units need a full reset to break the connection," I continue, hoping to roll over her scepticism, "and that needs hard-wired access; if this one's been captured, that shouldn't be possible." There's a brief pause as her pupils contract slightly, a faint static-laced 'pop', and suddenly D-13 and ZH drop to their knees with wide eyes and empty - as opposed to the merely neutral ones they were already wearing - expressions.

"Ooookaaay," I murmur slowly, stepping gently past the insensate blonde to check on the Doctor, the Whore and their daughters. All four have the same empty, mindless expressions, but at least they're still standing. "Doctor, Doctor," I say to her, snapping my fingers in front of her face a few times, "John to the- Oh, fuck this." I pull my hand back and slam my palm across one of her asscheeks so hard that I have to bite down a curse at how much it stings me.

The Doctor snaps back to reality with a blink and a gasp of surprise, jerking in place before reaching back to run her hand over the point of impact while I shake the pins and needles out of my hand. "OH! Oh, wow, that's, um..." She pauses for a moment, then shakes her head. "You need to start doing that every morning John, that's a hell of a wake-up call, great for blowing the cobwebs away." I snort at how hurriedly the last part is tacked on, her need to pretend she's not deriving any pleasure from what I do to her already back in full **** after its mysterious disappearance in D-13's company. "Give me a nice, hard spank - well, not me me, you know what I mean - while I sort the girls out. Not sure what happened to us, but we can sort that out once we've got our TARDISes back."

Now that she mentions it, it is strange that all four of them 'switched off' when the two Cybersluts did; I try to think of what might be responsible, anything out of the ordinary since we ran into the pair, but for the life of me nothing comes to mind. Shrugging and accepting defeat for now, I give the Whore a somewhat lighter spank - still clearly hard enough to snap her out of her fugue, apparently, but not enough to hurt me more than it hurts her. Well, if she's anything like her 'sister' then it probably wouldn't have hurt her anyway, but whatever. "Oooh, my hero," she purrs, reaching down and running her hand over the bulge in my pants, "thanks for the help, I'll make sure to give you a big discount on everything." I don't know what I expected, but it's nonetheless a little odd to realise that my earlier quip about her name has actually turned her into... well, a whore.

"Going to have to try harder than that," I tell her with a grin, "since you normally give discounts for size to anything that qualifies."

She gasps theatrically, then her breath hitches for real as the buzz of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver washes over us, the Whore and both Aphasias abruptly kneading their breasts and grinding their thighs together as 'my' Time Lady grins triumphantly. "Right, that should do it," she announces, "all back to normal. I we stick around I can do them too..." She glances at D-13 and ZH, still unresponsive. "But it might not be the best idea." Apparently, she's come to the same conclusion I have; they've not done anything to us so far, but it's probably not worth the risk. Even the temptation of another round with ZH's insane throat game fails to convince me, although judging by the heavy throb that my cock gives and the Whore's sudden focus on my crotch, my brain just barely won that one. "Good news though," she continues, "if we can find that core I- she mentioned, we'll also find an important enough part of the TARDIS they must be parasitising for me to take a proper scan of it."

"And since we already know what signals the Cybersluts' version is giving off," the Whore finishes for her, "once we filter out the Wakefield Engine's signals then we've got a good chance that the next one we pick up will be one of ours."

"Exactly! C'mon, we need to go before they boot back up." With that, the Doctor... pops the tip of her sonic screwdriver in her mouth for some reason and sucks on it for a few seconds, before releasing it with a wet pop-

-and licking her lips, smacking them a few times and darting her tongue out before pivoting on one heel - no mean feat, given how pointy those Cyberslut-issued stripper stilettos are - and strutting confidently through a pair of large oak doors. The corridor beyond is formed almost entirely of swirling blue coral, randomly studded with small, protruding vents that periodically spray a fine mist of blue slime. "Mmph-! Pwah! Ptuh!" Including one aimed directly at the Doctor's head, apparently, as she takes a step back with her face glistening and her dignity thoroughly ruined. "Ugh, it's in my mouth," she grumbles, scrunching her face and shuddering in disgust. "at least it doesn't taste too bad. Almost fine, honestly. Just..." She trails off, shoulders slumping as the Whore and the two Aphasias chuckle at her expense. "...come on, it's this way."

She perks back up once we get going, not least because the vents seem to be catching her fellow blondes - though not, I note with some suspicion, me - as we make our way down the passage. Not even another blast in the face lowers her mood, not least because the same spray also leaves the Whore shining with a thin layer of slime and struggling to clear her mouth. "Oh, it doesn't taste that bad," the Doctor chides her absentmindedly, her gaze flicking around in an effort to gauge which of the vents around us is about to spray next - a fool's errand, apparently, as she steps smartly to the side in order to avoid a puff that never comes, while Aphasia Two abruptly finds her ass being given a thin sheen of the stuff. "You know, now that I think about it," she muses, "it doesn't even feel that bad either. Feels pretty good, even. Like, really, really good." Seemingly without noticing, her hands begin to roam up and down her body, rubbing the mystery goo over her skin like massage oil.

"Ugh, can you just focus, mum," Aphasia asks huffily, but it's hard for anyone less distracted than the Doctor to miss the smirk she wears, or that she's doing the same thing with the slime covering her body - or, for that matter, that her emphasis on 'focus' leaves it sounding a lot more like 'fuck us'. Aphasia Two isn't even being that restrained, hips rolling and hands gripping two conveniently-placed coral protrusions for support as she grinds a vent between her asscheeks, until the Whore snaps her out of it with a quick squeeze of her breast and she begrudgingly resumes walking. Slowly and subtly, the passage begins to narrow and warp, steadily pushing the five of us closer and closer together until - between the inconsistent shape of the walls and the girls' seeming need to contrive a flimsy excuse to rub against the now slime-coated walls in general and the still-spewing vents in particular - I find myself hemmed in on all sides, unable to move without pressing against at least one hot, oiled-up body.

"John, could you make some space? It's hard enough getting through here as it is," the Doctor tells me, "it's such a tight fit." The seeming reasonableness of the request is rather undercut the fact that it'd be a lot less tight if the four blonde sluts accompanying me didn't insist on trying to move two abreast, but I'm too polite to say that. Instead, I offer her a quick affirmative and shift my full weight against the Whore's back, pressing her tits up against a patch of wall with a particularly 'interesting' texture and her pussy up against a rather large protrusion at just the right angle for her to have a near-silent orgasm. Aphasia giggles as she slides a hand past my belt and into my underwear, trying and failing to get one slick hand all the way around the base of my cock so she can start teasing me, while her 'sister' just presses her tits against my back and moans softly in my ear.

Incredibly, we reach the end of the corridor before I lose my patience with their antics and bend the Doctor over so I can jerk off using her ass, but the idea definitely has time to percolate through my brain. And so, before we make any attempt to open the mangled doors in front of us, I 'helpfully' inform her that the slime normally has a highly potent aphrodisiac effect when it seeps into a critical mass of the subject's pores, and that - thanks to her enormous PAWG bubble butt - she's almost certainly going to succumb to it if she doesn't get her ass coated in cum ASAP. Honestly, watching her expression shift as she realises that I'm handing her the perfect excuse to beg me to accept an assjob from her - and then realises that it's all true - is almost as satisfying as actually doi- No, I can't even finish a lie that bold. It's definitely both amusing and satisfying, but the feeling of the Doctor's slick, silky-soft cheeks wrapped around my shaft as the juicy meat of her ass envelopes my cock is just so, so much better.

"You know," I tease, my firm grip on her hips somehow keeping her in place for me to set a lazy pace, despite the absurd feats of strength I know she's capable of, "it's just as well it took something as unlikely as this whole 'TARDIS crash' situation to get you covered in this stuff, because with the size of your ass and the way you dress you'd probably need me to do this every other week."

"Yeah, ah, thanks for this," she replies, still trying to hide how much she's apparently enjoying being used like this, "I can't exactly sort us out if I get so sopping wet I'm liable to tackle you and start riding. I probably wouldn't even have been able to stop myself twerking on this monster if we'd left it any longer." She pauses, then frowns. "At least we must be getting close; the other TARDIS's translation matrix has to be starting to take priority if I'm saying something as trashy as that. And we caught this nice and early, so once you've painted my dumptruck white and these three sluts have licked me clean, we should be good to go."

I slap her ass and speed up slightly, drawing a pleased, quiet hum from her. "Is that the kind of thing you're normally saying when the TARDIS isn't censoring you," I ask her casually, then give her another slap and speed up again before she can reply. As nice as it'd be to stay wrapped in her dense, jiggly booty forever - or for another hour, at least - we are technically operating on a time limit right now. Not wanting to still be using the Doctor's ass when the balance of power collapses and the Cybersluts, Wakefield's brainwashed would-be slaves, or the apparent tentacle porn TARDIS takes control of all of their competitors, I will myself to cum. The Doctor gasps as a torrent of hot, thick jizz spews onto her back, before I slide my cock free of her cheeks and give them a liberal coating of the stuff. The Whore, who's been squatting down so she can be eye-level with my 'treatment' of the Doctor's potential poisoning, watches in awe and delight as I shoot rope after rope, utterly drowning the less openly-slutty Time Lady's ass under a thick layer of ballbatter.

As the Doctor groans in satisfaction, I make a mental note that either Aphasia Two is even more of a freak than she's willing to flaunt, or the Whore has been catering to a very select clientele - because the last facial I gave Aphasia before the crash was definitely not this big, and the only other potential influences over a load that would 'normally satisfy any woman in a position to take it' aren't close enough to be a factor anymore. Although if the look on Aphasia's face and the sounds bubbling up form deep in the Doctor's throat are any indication, it might end up being the new normal. Needless to say, between the unexpected amount of cum and their frequent snowballing breaks, it takes a little bit longer to clean the Doctor up and get ready to move on than I assumed it would, even with three eager volunteers.

Honestly, though, I welcome the extra time to catch my metaphorical breath. I might have done away with any need for physical recovery long ago, but processing the psychological impact of realising Aphasia now knows I can put out that much in one load still takes a minute.