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Friday, 11 December 2015

The Many Claras nsfw

I couldn’t help myself...
My deepest apologies to everyone who has ever been involved with the show or ever will be.

Not Safe For Work
A Doctor Who Distraction Fic

The Many Claras

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans

In the Earth year 2017, roughly 700,000 ttimes the span of the observable universe away from Earth is a small unregarded trinary star system around which orbit 7 planets and orbiting one of them is a moon with a rather odd property. It’s core is made of such a strange mix of chemicals as to sustain an open rift in fabric of space time, a rift beyond the void of logic divide the beautiful majesty of the Great Green Nothingness. About this rift has formed the noble trading city of Terrapoosh.

Clara is travelling on her own and has been for some time. She almost can’t remember her brief time with the timelord known as the Doctor any more. The only reason she hasn’t forgotten entirely is that she still has no pulse and that continual reminder that she is broken and caught in a catch in continuity before her inevitable death haunts her. The clock in San Dimas has been stopped and its pendulum held. The raven that could make a dalek scared enough to live in piece stays held in place, caught, waiting for her to accept her death. But the Doctor never accepted death when another option was on the table so why the hell should she?

She was wearing long coat over a three piece suit as she strode through the market and heard some mad Scottish woman regale the enraptured crowds. “Your very own toy woman. Tamed by my own fair hand, entirely consenting and perked up with a concoction of my own devising to ensure they will never spoil or suffer nor wreck your mood with any unwanted jibber jabber thanks to a handy dandy toggle switch for their minds!”

Clara sighed. She supposed she should intervene. Be a hero. But... fuck it, she just wanted a pasty and a sunset while the tardis recharged at the rift.

“For delectation and delight I present Lisa, Lucy, Amy, Carla, Fiora, Roxy, Felicity and the amazing Sammy! Yours for only the price of a small war ship!” said the trader.

A short green skinned person with vertically closing eyelids looked sideways and the dark skinned Roxy and asked “To yu to kradeet?”

“Maybe...” said the trader with a twinking smile “There are other other ways to pay. Take that lady for instance!”

Clara heard a loud intake of breath and froze.

“Yes you, madam in the long coat!” said the trader affirmatively “Come up on stage, there’s a good girl.”

Clara bit her lip. She wasn’t in the mood. She wasn’t the Doctor. She had made no promises. She wanted to walk away. To get some noms then get to fuck... but that charlatan had just decided to patronise her...

Clara turned, smiling, all sweetness and light. “Me?”

“Yes!” said the trader, waving eagerly “Now come along, I don’t bite. Not until the ink’s dried on the contracts anyway.”

Fine. Time to tear down this woman’s world.

Clara walked over to the trader and tried to look curious, innocent and naive with just enough fight to make it look believable. Her mind meanwhile had been honed by centuries of adventures.

The trader had curly ginger hair worn in a bun under an askew hat with a feather in it. She wore a long victorian era ballgown dress with a corset that flared outwards to hide her legs. She seemed genuinely interested in Clara, at least in so far as how she could aid her business, but was undeniably playing up to the crowd and had clearly given this speech many times before.

The trader took Clara’s hand and welcomed her up on stage “Thank you. Now, my dear, what is your name?”

“Clara” said Clara, with a nervous smile like a gameshow contestant.

“Clara, thank you.” said the trader, pausing briefly to address the crowd.

Clara took the opportunity to scan her surroundings. They where on a short stage with a microphone before them and behind them the toys were arrayed. 8 women, 6 blonde haired and light skinned, though one looked rather broad chested to fit typical mold, one pale skinned ginger woman and one dark skinned brunette. Well at least Clara would add some variety to the collection she supposed.

“There is one way to pay for my goods if you are rather short on cash.” said the trader “Lend me a volunteer, such as this fair lady. The larger my product range, the greater the chance that someone will buy.”

Clara had to chuckle at that.

“Something funny, my dear?” asked the trader.

“Yeah, you could say that.” said Clara deciding she was done playing along “You do realise that this is fucking slavery and you will be stopped.”

The trader chuckled and laid a comforting hand on the nape of Clara’s neck, that exerted just enough pressure to inform her that shutting up and not moving would be wise. “Okay, why don’t you take a little time out and we can talk about this later. What I am doing is entirely above board and legal under the United Civilisations of the Multiverse. I can assure you that consent is king.”

An ood raised its forebrain and said “The human has a point. Selling sentient creatures is wrong.”

The trader smiled at the ood “Oh but they aren’t sentient, not by the time I’m done with them. They can be sentient in time with love, care and affection but that is not the intention. They are meant to be used and abused and created for that purpose. Lisa, darling, would you come out here?”

Clara watched as a blonde woman in flipflops, a short skirt and a croptop walked out from behind the display of herself.

“This is my first.” said the trader with a wistful smile as she gestured to the woman, Lisa “I never understood how the Farsh-nuke managed to fall in love with his playthings but she showed me the answer.”

Lisa blushed and took the trader’s hand.

“She was a student in architectural design and before my work was done she became a great architect and now, because of our work together, I can do this.” The trader pulled an axe out of her jacket pocket and brought the cutting edge to bare on Lisa’s neck.

Lisa’s rolled before the feet of a Tivoli, a rat like race of humanoids whose home planet had been invaded so often they had adapted to survival through exploitability.

Lisa blinked and said “That was fun.”

The Tivoli shivered and the crowd applauded.

The Tivoli raised up a hand and asked “Could I volunteer?”

The trader laughed then said “Well I’m not sure I vould really sell you across the rest of the multiverse. From what I gather there maybe a few copyright issues with your species but I may be able to do a custom non profit job for someone so willing and speaking of which -”

Clara’s world went dark.

*

Clara woke up, fully clothed sitting in an armchair in a library with the trader and Lisa sitting opposite her. Lisa was thankfully in one piece again.

“Are you okay?” asked the Lisa.

The trader was studying Clara somberly.

“What?” said Clara “Yes. No. What’s going on?”

“You’re safe.” said the trader “For now.”

Clara swallowed. Okay, the interrogation scene, probably going to be some torture now.

“It’s going to be okay.” said Lisa “Mistress can be scary but she won’t hurt you, not until she knows you can take it. She just wants to ask you some questions okay?”

Clara froze “Mistress? Missy? Oh god, it all makes sense! Look at you, tall, mad, charismatic, scary, using people.”

The trader sighed “I have no idea who this Missy is...” the trader leaned forward and looked Clara in the eyes “What I do know is that it is an awful coincidence that I, with my particular set of skills, should happen to stumble upon such a perfect doll with her time stopped.”

“Pardon?” said Clara.

The trader flashed a smile and leaned back. “Cute.”

“What is she talking about?” asked Clara of Lisa.

Lisa shrugged “I think she means that you’re special.”

The trader snorted.

Clara shrugged and looked wide eyed “Well, what can I say there’s nothing special about me?”

“You have no pulse.” said the trader.

Clara chuckled “Lots of planets have people with no pulses.”

The trader rolled her eyes.

Shit.

Clara smiled disarmingly. “I mean you don’t know, can’t have seen them all...”

“I don’t need to.” said the trader “I can read your soul like it’s a novel. Your time has been stopped. That is some very particular, high level logic manipulation. You are thinking, your brain is working. Your nerves are sending and recieving signals. Yet you don’t need to breathe and you have no pulse. You are a woman out of time and without time, yet able to percieve it and affect it. It takes some serious technology to fuck up a person as thoroughly as you have been fucked up. What I want to know is why.”

The trader leaned forward “What are you? A trick? A trap? Who sends me an impossible girl?”

Clara stared at her and asked “Can you help me?”

“Yes.” said the trader “I should think I can guarrantee that but why would you need my help.”

Clara bit her lip as she thought for a long moment then she said and said “There was a man. A brilliant man. An amazing man. A really strange man. We travelled time and space together, saving each other’s lives and those around us until one day I made a mistake and I died. To these strange raven things. I had a kind of magic tattoo counting down to my death.”

“So what happened?” asked the trader “I notice the tattoo is still there.”

“I got myself killed during some scheme to get this man into a place where he could be interrogated about a prophecy. The prophecy is bullshit but the point is that this scheme really really pissed my man off and they had just happened to deliver him into the one place where he could bring me back on the brink of death. Apparently it had been done to him once before.” said Clara “I’ve been travelling without him ever since.”

The trader nodded “Well I think I can help you, help your friend too. What was this place?”

“Hold on...” said Clara, showing the palms of her hands “I’m not just going to tell nobody about the reason I am still alive.”

“Okay.” said the trader extending a hand towards Clara “I am the Bam-Kursh, I am cousin to the Farsh-nuke, champion of the United Civilizations of the Multiverse and the great Toy Maker.”

“Sooo... Not Missy then?” clarified Clara as she shook her hand.

“No, not Missy.” said the Bam-Kursh pulling a face.

Clara breathed a sigh of relief “His name is the Doctor, the place is Gallifrey and the people are the timelords.”

“Never heard of them.” said the Bam-Kursh “But thank you for telling me. I know what to look for now. Sleep tight, little one.”

Clara stared at the Bam-Kursh as she rose from her armchair, then sleep overcame Clara.

*

She woke to find the Bam-Kursh sitting before her once more in the library.

“Morning.” said the Bam-Kursh.

Clara blinked and wanted to stretch her legs “Oh, we’re still here.”

“Yes, but not for much longer.” said the Bam-Kursh. “I’ve done some researching on the topics of timelords, prophecies and time stopped individuals. I have good news and bad news.”

Clara stared at her. “Such as?”

“You need to die. You really need to die.” said the Bam-Kursh “Your death is key to the timeline of the complex space time event known as the Doctor. Unravel that timeline, even a little, and the whole universe goes phoom and takes out a few hundred either side for good measure. You are not worth that.”

Clara swallowed “Please tell me that wasn’t the good news?”

The Bam-Kursh snorted. “Of course not. The good news is that Clara Oswald can live on after you die but you have to trust me.”

Clara stared at her “Trust the woman who sells women as toys? You have to be kidding me?”

The Bam-Kursh shrugged “Fair enough. Sorry about the whole having to take you to your death thing but it seems like I’m the only person willing to brave the Doctor’s wrath for the sake of the universe -”

“Hold on!” cried Clara.

The Bam-Kursh paused and looked questioningly at Clara.

“If I am dead anyway, I guess I can trust you.” said Clara.

The Bam-Kursh smiled. “Thank you.”

“So what’s your plan?” asked Clara.

“I can turn your mind on and off remotely with my Quantum Oscillator.” Explained the Bam-Kursh “I can turn you off then create duplicates using an extrapolation of teleportation technology, when I turn on each duplicate they will think they are you. You will be delivered to die at the proper time but one copy will be allowed to fly off in her tardis free as a bird and the other, the other will stay with me.”

Clara swallowed then said “Your payment for services rendered I take it.”

“I am risking the wrath of a man who topples empires for fun.” said the Bam-Kursh “I fully intend to patent you and exploit the ever loving shit out of that patent.”

Then the Bam-Kursh softened and sighed “But I did mean what I said Clara. Consent is king. You will walk with me every step of the way. Even to the cooking pot.”

Clara regarded the Bam-Kursh for a long moment then sighed “Fine. Fine. Just. Just, lets get this over with shall we?”

The Bam-Kursh nodded then said “Come with me.” as she rose from her armchair.

*

Clara stood in the teleportation chamber, wearing replica clothes to what she had worn when she’d died. “So this is it? Now I die?”

The Bam-Kursh nodded “But now you will also begin many new lives.”

“Okay...” said Clara with a shrug “Geronimo, I guess.”

The Bam-Kursh nodded curtly.

Clara blacked out.

*

Clara woke, screaming as she died an agonising death, a death that would cause the lives she would also now lead.

*

Clara woke to find the Bam-Kursh grinning at her.

“Not dead.” said Clara “That’s good.”

The Bam-Kursh nodded.

“Okay getting slightly creeped out by how happy you are seeming.” said Clara “I take this means I’m your payment?”

The Bam-Kursh booped Clara’s nose “You, my precious, little, complex, space time event, are to be my toy. Come let us begin.”

The Bam-Kursh offered Clara her hand.

Clara looked first at the hand then at the Bam-Kursh’s gleeful face “You’ll stop if I don’t like it?”

“Of course.” said the Bam-Kursh.

Clara took her hand “Then lead on.”

*

Clara woke to find she was looking at herself. The copy of her wore an absurdly tiny amount of clothes and was smiling vacantly.

“I hope you approve.” said the Bam-Kursh “You took me a while but I got you remade in the end. Might give one to the Farsh-nuke, from what I recall, he seemed to like this Doctor character.”

“Am I that gift?” asked Clara irritated.

“Oh no” said the Bam-Kursh “Your clothes are where you left them. Keep adventuring.”

Clara nodded and walked past herself and the Bam-Kursh.

*

Clara woke to find herself looking at a strangely dressed man. “Doctor?”

“Frederick Hamish Pearson” said the man extending his hand.

Clara shook it “Clara Oswald, how may I be of service?”

Frederick said “The Bam-Kursh told me you were interested in becoming a sylph?”

“Umm...yes.” said Clara “There’s just one small thing. What’s a sylph?”

“Oh... Oh I am sorry. She keeps trying to set me up with women. I think she’s got the hots for me. I’ll be going now.” said Frederick as he made to leave.

Clara laid a hand on his arm. “No, I want to know. I’m interested. I just... want you to tell me?”

“Oh...” said Frederick with realisation “You’re playing dumb because this is your fantasy isn’t it?”

“Yes! Yes, exactly!” cried Clara with relief “I just really want this to feel real you know? So about that explanation...”

Frederick grinned and started to explain “Well you see there was this dying race...”

*

Clara woke to find the Bam-Kursh regarding her like an old friend. “Come on, Clara, I’ve just turned the toy I made of you into a hat stand and quite frankly I’m rather bored of you now but there is one last thing you can do for me.”

“Okay...” said Clara.

The Bam-Kursh turned and walked out the door of the teleportation chamber.

Clara followed and asked “What is it? What’s this last thing?”

“The reason I first noticed you.” said the Bam-Kursh wistfully “So strong, so powerful, such a don’t give a fuck attitude. I saw that and I fought how funny it would be to see you in a cooking pot.”

Clara was shocked “What?”

The Bam-Kursh laughed as she led Clara through her ship “Don’t worry, you will enjoy it and you will heal. To you it will be an experience better than sex.” the Bam-Kursh paused as she realised “I guess that makes me your pimp?” then she laughed “In any case where Prometheus had his liver eaten every day and called it hell, you will have everything bar your brain and three hearts eaten or removed every day and call it heaven.”

Bam-Kursh pushed open the door of her ship and announced “Clara I give you the world of the Contravoxai and Vligury.

Clara walked out through the door and saw a great fancy restaurant where tentacled aliens and people dined together. Then she noticed the tentacled aliens eating people who were served to them by waiters and waitresses. People served up in soup bowls, roasted live or even skewered through with a spit and left to roast over an open flame and all alive and loving it.

The Bam-Kursh clapped a hand on Clara’s shoulder “Are you alright?”

“Yeah...” lied Clara.

The Bam-Kursh introduced a slight brunette “This is Eliza, she’s umm, she’s quite powerful, got some neat tricks she can show you later. What matters is that she is going to be your owner. You come to her with troubles and she will sort you out okay?”

Clara stared at the Bam-Kursh “I thought you didn’t care.”

The Bam-Kursh shrugged “It’s only fun if you’re okay. Now, look her in the eyes and drink this.”

Clara nodded and looked Eliza in the eyes as she knocked back the foul smelling concoction. A stupid grin spread across her face as it took hold and imprinted Eliza upon her.

Eliza stroked Clara’s hair and said “Honey, I need you to remove your clothes for me okay?”

Clara nodded and did as she was told.

Eliza called a naked woman over and stabbed her in the hand then she sliced open the palm of Clara’s left hand with the bloodied knife.

“That’s mixing your blood with that of a wereshark, give you its healing factor. The desire to be exploited given to you by becoming a sylph will counteract the homicidal madness of the wereshark.” explained the Bam-Kursh.

Clara’s palm healed completely in moments.

Eliza smiled “You’re all ready to begin your life here. Just one thing remains.”

Clara asked “What?”

“Her payment.” said Eliza.

Clara giggled.

Eliza hugged Clara.

The Bam-Kursh sliced off Clara’s arms and legs.

Clara shrieked, not prepared for the sudden jolts of joy that prompted.

Eliza stowed Clara under the counter and shushed her then had her arms and legs deep fried for the Bam-Kursh.


The Bam-Kursh left without saying goodbye. She didn’t need to. She knew now that this particular Clara would spend an eternity in the cooking pot for kicks and laughed long and hard about that.