From: Alden Bates To: sadwank@onelist.com Subject: [sadwank] Side Effects (EF) Date: Sunday, August 16, 1998 11:10 From: "Alden Bates" OK, this is the second EF story I ever wrote. It's a lot darker than my usual stuff, so be warned. It contains S&M themes. There's a lot of continuity: the Doctor and Mel haven't met Mistress Mel yet (see the URL below if you don't know who _she_ is. :-) but she's encountered both of them seperately. Hence the confusion, somewhat. ******** Side Effects by Alden Bates A time machine tore through the fifth dimension and spun into a temporal orbit. The rainbow lights of the space/time continuum played across its shell, mapping across the flat, grey planes of a simple box; typical Dalek design. The machine possessed the capability to hop between universes and was far from its original home. The owner was not happy. "So, where are we going now?" Mel asked with a cheerfulness she really didn't feel. She didn't like to admit it, but Pex's death had affected her. She had been instrumental in helping the 'Defender of Paradise Towers' discover his bravery, and he had paid for it with his life. She felt personally responsible. She had been the one who had encouraged him to lead Kroagnon into the Doctor's trap. She had been the one to give him a pleading look as he tried to flee in fear. She had watched as he pulled Kroagnon into the trap and died. Pex had sacrificed his life and it would never have happened if she hadn't been there. She'd gone for another swim before the funeral, trying to wash away the guilt. The Kangs had remained quiet, eyes cast downwards as they removed the remains of the cleaning robot from the pool. Pex was the last to die and would be the last for hopefully some time. Of course, she wouldn't worry the Doctor with her problems. "I don't know," The Doctor said amiably. "Where would you like to go? The Eye of Orion perhaps? We could both do with a rest." "Sounds good," she said without enthusiasm. The Doctor frowned at her uncharacteristically subdued manner. "Are you all right, Mel?" "Perfectly," she lied. "I'll just go and change. I'm still a bit damp." Mel turned towards the interior door. The time machine paused in its orbit. A beam of light pulsed out to stab at a passing police box. Suddenly Mel wasn't in the TARDIS anymore. There was darkness, a rushing, falling sensation and she was suddenly thrust, staggering, into another room. Her brain felt like cotton wool. Someone grabbed her from behind, dragging her backwards and forcing her against a metal slab. She tried to pull free but something had her pinned against the metal. The slab tilted back, swivelling until she was lying flat. "Who... Who's there?" Someone pulled her shoes off one at a time. There was an audible clatter as they hit the floor. "What are you doing?" she squeaked. "Isn't it obvious?" asked a familiar voice. There was a touch of something cold on her leg. It felt to her like a knife breaking the skin. Mel screamed until a hand clamped over her mouth. "If you don't shut up," said the voice. "I'm going to kill you now." The hand withdrew and the metallic touch returned. There was a parting sensation, the fabric falling away. The scissors worked their way up one leg and then the other. The ruined trousers were pulled from under her. "Blue polka-dots," said the voice. "Where did you get this monstrosity." "The TARDIS wardrobe," Mel whimpered. "And there's nothing wrong with it." "It's hideous." "There's nothing wrong with it. At least there wasn't until you started - oh!" The someone clambered onto the table with her. She couldn't move her head, and all she could see by looking down was a pile of red hair, similar to her own. The buttons up the front of the outfit were deftly snipped off. The scissors laboured through the thick collar and then began snipping their way along her left sleeve. Maybe she was dreaming. She'd fallen over, hit her head, and now she was having a nightmare. Her subconscious was punishing her for what she'd done to Pex. She'd wake up in a few minutes and the Doctor would be crouching over her with a concerned look on his face. The scissors started on the other sleeve. The blunt side of the blade was beginning to warm against her skin. He'd pick her up and give her a glass of carrot juice. She'd tell him about her dream and he'd explain it away as the manifestations of a guilty conscious and tell her it wasn't her fault. She wasn't to know. The water-proof fabric was pulled from underneath her. She wasn't to know, she realised now. Pex had needed help, guidance, a mentor. She had helped him to discover his inner bravery. It was tragic that he had died, but she wasn't to blame. It was the culmination of a set of circumstances in which she'd played a minor part. Something touched her through the still-damp swimming costume; A finger prodding her stomach. A hand slid up inside the costume, stroking her left side gently. She screwed up her eyes, cutting off the view of the grey ceiling. "Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?" "It's not what you did," said the voice. "It's what you'll do. Open your eyes." Mel focused on the face in front of her. At first she thought someone had stuck a mirror in front of her, then she realised that the face was slightly older. She was looking at herself ten years on. "I'm Melanie Bush" the woman said in Mel's voice. "Surprised?" Mel clenched her eyes shut again. A finger hooked through the crotch of her costume and the scissor blade slid under. She flinched as it slid across her thigh. The woman cut a line up the front of the swimming costume and removed the fabric. "I don't understand," Mel shuddered. Asleep, Nightmare, she repeated in her mind. "You're not supposed to. The fact is that some time ago you caused me some grief. Think of this as retroactive retribution." She'd forgiven herself hadn't she? Pex's death wasn't her fault. She should be waking up now. She counted to ten and opened her eyes again. She was still spread-eagled on a metal slab. The woman was hovering over her, skin warm where they were touching. The woman was wearing something that was all leather and straps. "I'm Mistress Mel and you are going to die." The woman leaned forward and kissed her on the nose. Some core part of Mel's mind decided that it didn't want to have anything further to do with the proceedings and shut down. Mel fainted. Mistress Mel sighed and looked down at the tender body of her duplicate self. Was she that skinny when she was that age? Killing Mel outright would be quickest, but not much fun; It'd be much better to wait until she regained consciousness. An intriguing idea would be to bring the girl to orgasm, then clamp a hand over her mouth and nose, suffocating her as she tried to take shuddering breaths. Of course, perhaps there was another option. She didn't need to kill the girl. History had already been diverted at a crucial point. If Mel didn't continue travelling with the Doctor, never left him, never ended up on Earth in the early twenty first century, she wouldn't have been able to ruin Mistress Mel's original plan for world domination. There was a simple alternative: chain the girl to the wall in the bridge of the time-ship and allow her to witness the taking over of Earth. Show her every atrocity as it was committed. Degrade her at every opportunity. Mistress Mel was about to deactivate the force field restraints when a police box materialised in the centre of the room. The Doctor stepped out and inspected the room. Blank metal walls. One door. No windows. Mel lying naked on a metal slab. Borusa had told him there'd be days like this. He stepped over a sad pile of fabric, recognising it as Mel's costume, and gave her a quick examination. To his immense relief, she was still alive. He began to search the edges of the slab for a deactivation button. That was roughly when someone grabbed him from behind, dragging him backwards and forcing him against a slab. "Unhand me!" he shouted as force fields looped over his body. Someone tried to prise the umbrella from his grip. The metal plate tilted back until it was horizontal. The brolly was finally tugged from his grip. He heard a dreadful splintering sound and felt an emotional twinge as he realised a piece of apparel he'd become quite fond of had just been broken. "Whoever you are," he said menacingly. "I shall oppose you with every last ounce of my.... Oh, hello Mel." There was a brief and vague pause as the Doctor's mind turned over, flipped, and did a triple somersault. "Mel?" "Yes, but you have to call me 'Mistress'," said the woman firmly. The Doctor swivelled his eyes and looked across at his companion, still lying unconscious on the slab next to him. He looked back at the older version who was pulling off his jacket. "Forgive me if I sound sceptical, but you don't exactly act like Mel." There was a moment's silence while the Doctor waited for an answer. "For instance," he continued, muffled by the jumper being pulled over his head. "The real Mel would be unlikely to undress me in such an odd fashion." "Odd is right. This thing is revolting." The jumper was tossed out of his field of view, presumably to land on the floor. "Do you all lack even the tiniest bit of taste here?" "I couldn't have my umbrella back, could I?" he asked plaintively. "No." The Doctor moved his arm as his shirt was pulled over it. The force fields were somehow keeping him restrained while the shirt was easily able to be pulled free. He could only move his arm a few centimetres before it encountered resistance. They were specific to living matter then. Judging by the way the fake Mel was able to pass through them, they were probably specific to his living matter. Perhaps something had scanned him when he touched the metal plate. "I got those shoes from Earth, by the way," he said, frowning at the noise as they hit the floor. "A rather nice shoe store in Edinburgh. The owner said they were... yes, suspenders. I don't suppose you folded those neatly did you? Those trousers tend to crease rather badly. Oh dear, you seem to have run out of clothes. If you put them back on, we could always start again." He looked up again at the woman, who was kneeling over him fumbling with the straps on her costume. The costume seemed to fall apart, tumbling to the metal floor, metal buckles clanking. Mistress Mel lay forward, embracing him. Her nose pressed against his. Red hair cascaded down around his head. "You're cold," she said. "Your other self wasn't cold." "Don't expect to get anywhere," the Doctor said calmly, his grey eyes boring into her. "I've researched the Time Lords of this Universe, Doctor. The ultimate taboo of Time Lord society is sexual intercourse. I don't expect this to come easily to you, but try to remember that your companion is only a few metres away. I can easily kill her." Mistress Mel began lazily rubbing herself against him. He could feel her legs on either side of him, shifting as they moved her body. For some reason she'd left her spike-heeled boots on, and the leather felt coarse against his hips. It's a good thing, he thought, that this sort of thing doesn't affect me at all. Oh dear. His mind dredged up an ancient Venusian lullaby and he began to sing as Mistress Mel rubbed a smooth hand against the side of his face. The song began to soothe and relax him. Mistress Mel slid forward, pressing her mouth over his lips and stuck in her tongue for interference value. The Doctor screwed up his eyes, trying to regain his rhythm, ignore the warm tongue stroking the roof of his mouth. Her body was sleek and warm, rubbing against him like an over-friendly cat. Part of his mind suddenly caved in. Mistress Mel released his mouth and smiled as she felt him swelling beneath her. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," she whispered, drawing back to mount him, feeling him slide in. The Doctor shuddered briefly, his eyes clenched tightly shut. She sat upright and stroked his chest with the palms of her hands. He lay lifeless, eyes closed, breath even. She'd managed to get this far, only to have him lie there like a rag doll. Some part of his mind was still resisting. She pulled her foot up, placed the spiked-heel against his left shoulder and pushed forwards. The heel crushed against his collarbone, pinching the sensitive nerve cluster she knew was located there. She could almost see the veins of fire running through him. Oh YES! The Doctor eyes opened wide as he arched his back in pain and screamed a silent scream. She removed the heel and pressed down with her thumbs, pinching his shoulder until she could see his eyes bulging in their sockets. Glorious pain, she thought, if I kill him now, will he regenerate? His erection pulsed within her and she realised he'd finally let go. She relaxed her mind, taking in the moment, absorbing the feeling of him twisting beneath her in pain, the pleasure washing over her. She gasped and hugged against him, feeling his skin warming. He was moving, thrashing between her and the metal, pinioned by the lines of force. She could feel their tingling interaction as she pushed down trying to envelope him. He bucked, trying to escape her. She hugged him tighter, the frantic movements of pain transmitting between them. She reached a hand out for the scissors. The Doctor sat bolt upright tipping her back. His eyes were full of something terrible and a finger plunged towards her forehead and blackness overcame her. The Doctor tugged back on his jacket and examined the only door from the room. Locked of course, and not a key to be found. No way to stick a spanner in the works. He'd just have to remember to set the TARDIS defences whenever in transit. He looked down sadly at Mistress Mel's insensible form, lying on the floor with one foot up on the empty slab. The force fields, he'd realised, were keyed to a specific metabolic rate. In order to slip through them, all he'd needed to do was alter his body's rate, causing an increase in body temperature and a few other side effects. Yes, he thought, still looking down at the body. Side effects, definitely. His umbrella lay nearby in a pile of torn fabric and bent metal spars. Useless. Broken. The Doctor turned away and deactivated Mel's force fields. She opened her eyes blearily, looked up at him and smiled. "Doctor," she said faintly. "I've just had an utterly awful dream. "It's all right," he said, gently touching a finger to her forehead, sending her back into slumber. "It's not morning yet." Taking one last look at the woman sprawled on the floor, the Doctor gathered up his companion and carried her into the TARDIS. The End. Alden. ________________________________________________________ ()))______http://homepages.ihug.co.nz/~abates/___)__)__-~ `----------o "Why's your ASCII star destroyer upside-down?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Help support ONElist, while generating interest in your product or service. ONElist has a variety of advertising packages. Visit http://www.onelist.com/advert.html for more information.