DOCTOR WHO fucks

The icy wind swept through the futuristic city of Rozana, its crystalline towers shimmering under the pale light of a distant sun. Snowflakes danced in the air, catching the glow of neon signs and casting a magical aura over the bustling human colony. Tressa adjusted her thick coat, her breath forming clouds as she marveled at the sheer brilliance of the place. The Master, ever enigmatic, walked beside her, his camera in hand, capturing moments with precision and care.

"Stand here," he said with a mischievous grin, gesturing toward a grand monument that spiraled upward like frozen fire. Tressa obliged, striking playful poses as he snapped picture after picture. The camera clicked in rapid succession, each shot preserving a moment in this strange, wondrous world.

As the Master lowered the camera, Tressa glanced around at the flow of human traffic, the bustling crowd moving with purpose and ease. "I can't believe it," she said, her voice filled with awe. "I can't believe Elon wasn't delusional."

The Master paused, the corner of his mouth curling into a knowing smile. Before she could say more, he leaned in and kissed her, the cold air forgotten in the warmth of the moment. When he pulled away, Tressa chuckled softly, her cheeks flushed—whether from the kiss or the cold, she wasn't sure.

"Oh, he's delusional alright," the Master said, a playful glint in his eye. "Delusional about the how. You won't get here until someone discovers the anti-graviton engine—and that's miles beyond him."

Tressa raised an eyebrow, her humor intact despite the jab at her time's technological aspirations. "Oh, thanks for telling me that. I need to call my stockbroker."

The Master laughed, his voice rich and warm, blending with the hum of the city. "And invest in what company? All the firms dabbling in anti-graviton tech in your era are tripping over themselves, hindered by government interference."

Tressa shook her head, still scanning the glittering cityscape. The towers, the sky bridges, the sheer audacity of human ingenuity—all of it left her breathless. "Still," she murmured, "this is insane."

As Tressa marveled at the marvels of Rozana, the Master suddenly clutched his head, his face contorted in pain. The rhythmic, haunting beats of drums began to pulse in his mind, a relentless reminder of his past, of his very essence. Visions flooded his consciousness - he was once again a frightened boy, gazing into the terrifying nakedness of the Time Vortex, the raw energy of time itself. His mutterings grew louder, more desperate. "You can hear them, Doctor, you said you wanted to understand me, can you hear them? Can you hear them now?"

Tressa, sensing the shift in the air, turned back, concern etching her features as she approached him. "What's wrong, Master?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

In response, the Master grabbed her, pulling her into a kiss with a fervor that seemed to momentarily drown out the drums. His voice was a mix of pain and mockery as he whispered against her lips, "It's nothing a good shagging can't fix."

Before Tressa could respond, the world around them shimmered and dissolved as they teleported directly into the TARDIS

The TARDIS materialized with its signature wheezing groan, fading into view against the backdrop of a bustling nighttime New Haven, U.S.A. The city was alive with activity, the streets lined with glowing storefronts and the hum of passing cars. In the distance, towering brownstones and the faint sound of laughter from late-night gatherings painted a picture of youthful exuberance.

The door creaked open, and Tressa stepped out, breathing heavily as if she had just run a marathon. Her hair was a tangled mess, strands falling into her face as she pouted in frustration, trying to regain her composure. Behind her, the Master emerged, hands casually tucked into his coat pockets, his expression an amused blend of curiosity and mild disapproval.

"Where did you say you were going again?" the Master asked, raising a brow.

Tressa huffed, still trying to tame her hair. "Oh! It's my sorority sleepover party. I haven't shown up in a while, and I'm starting to look sus." She made air quotes with her fingers, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.

The Master blinked, tilting his head. "Excuse me—a soro-what?"

Tressa chuckled, shaking her head at his bewilderment. "Oh, sorry! My dad always told me you only stick to the U.K. You've got, like, zero knowledge of other cultures."

The Master bristled, straightening his posture. "Jim doesn't know what he's talking about. There isn't a single place on this planet I haven't been."

They crossed the street, dodging a honking cab, and approached a grand sorority house. The building was impossible to miss—painted in hot pink and glittering gold, its facade practically radiated extravagance. Strings of twinkling fairy lights outlined the windows, and music pulsed faintly from inside. Above the grand entrance, a glittering sign proudly declared: GAMMA GLITTERIS.

Tressa stopped at the base of the steps, turning to face the Master. "This is it. How's my hair?"

The Master smirked, his tone teasing but fond. "Oh, it's perfect. As always."

Before she could respond, he leaned in slightly. "Can I?"

Tressa immediately cut him off, raising a hand. "No! They don't allow guys in." She leaned closer, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "Especially perverts."

The Master chuckled, stepping back with a mockingly hurt expression. "Oh, alright. See you then."

With a playful smile, Tressa turned and climbed the steps. She disappeared through the door, her laughter trailing behind her as the Master lingered for a moment, gazing up at the glittering sign. He shook his head, muttering to himself as he turned and walked back toward the TARDIS.

"Gamma Glitteris," he mused under his breath. "Humans and their endless need for pomp."

Tressa stepped into the warm, lively embrace of the sorority sleepover, immediately enveloped by the cozy chaos of it all. Fifty girls, each in vibrant, mismatched pajamas, filled the room with energy. Some were draped across plush, pink couches, while others lay comfortably on the carpet, wrapped in blankets like colorful cocoons. The room was illuminated by the soft, flickering light of an 88-inch flat-screen TV, casting everyone in a gentle glow. Despite the crowd, the space felt open, thanks to the slender frames of most of the girls.

Her gaze roamed until it settled on Cuddy, a tall blonde whose hair shone like the golden blanket she was curled up in on the floor. Tressa navigated through the sea of bodies to settle down beside her, mirroring her friend's comfortable sprawl.

Cuddy turned, flashing a bright grin. "Tres! You finally made it. Where are your PJs?"

Tressa's eyes flicked to the screen. "What are we watching?"

With an eye roll and a tone of mock exasperation, Cuddy answered, "You won't believe this, but for the fifth time this year, we're watching 'The Devil Wears Prada.'"

Tressa couldn't suppress a quiet giggle.

Cuddy threw her hands up, feigning despair. "I know it's a classic and all, but seriously? Five times! I'm starting to get fed up with Hathaway's whole nonchalant per—"

Her rant was abruptly cut short by a stern "Shh!" from the senior sorority mother, a dignified woman perched on a couch, exuding an air of authority. Her silencing glare was enough to quiet the room instantly.

Tressa stifled her laughter, shaking her head at Cuddy's deflated frustration. She couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight of her animated friend being brought to silence.

As the movie played on, some of the junior new members couldn't help but giggle at Anne Hathaway's portrayal of Andy Sachs, particularly at scenes where she was the epitome of cluelessness. On screen, Andy, new to the fashion world, was seen stumbling through her first day at Runway magazine, accidentally offending high fashion by suggesting she could easily buy the same belt that Miranda Priestly had critiqued. Another laugh came when Andy, attempting to be helpful, brought coffee to a meeting, only to be chastised for her choice of cup, highlighting her disconnect from the fashion elite.

Meanwhile, Tressa and Cuddy were deeply engaged with their phones, their attention far from the film. Cuddy murmured, "So, are you ready to catch some other fish in the sea?"

Tressa, eyes still on her phone, replied with a smirk, "I thought we were the fish."

"Don't act a fool, I know you know what I mean. Are you ready to get yourself out there?" Cuddy said, scrolling through her phone. "Cuz, I have guys here, lining up for you."

Tressa looked up, her expression one of disinterest. Cuddy winked at her, teasing, "Or unless you finally found someone."

Before Tressa could respond, the room's atmosphere shifted palpably. The lights from the TV screen seemed to dim as if sensing a change. Suddenly, behind the group, the air shimmered, and with a soft, almost inaudible whoosh, The Master materialized. His presence was like a shadow cast in the midst of their colorful gathering, his eyes scanning the room with an enigmatic smirk With a swift flick of his sonic screwdriver, the lights in the room blazed to life, causing everyone to squint and blink in shock. From the back of the room, a voice, dripping with amusement, broke the silence, "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

The senior sorority mother, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the ageless Anne Hathaway they'd been watching, turned to face this enigmatic figure, her eyes wide with alarm. All the students were startled, some gasping in surprise. The mother, Sister Celine, quickly reached for her phone to dial 911, but her device was rendered useless by an unseen force.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, her voice firm despite the confusion.

Tressa, looking back with confusion, protested, "M-Master, what are you doing here? I told you not to come in."

Sister Celine, shocked, looked at Tressa, "Tres! You know this man?"

Tressa stuttered, "Sister Celine, I, I, I—"

Then, with another flick of his sonic screwdriver, The Master unleashed a wave of sexual arousal energy that swept over every girl in the room, their resistance melting into soft moans.

Cuddy, feeling the sudden surge, moaned, "Ohhh, Mmh!, Mmmh!, What the hell is that device?" Her voice was a mix of confusion and pleasure.

With yet another flick, twenty clones of The Master appeared, their forms shimmering like mirages. These clones began to undress the now-moaning girls, their pajamas falling away like petals.

Sister Celine, unaffected by the arousal, made a dash for the door, only for it to lock itself with a click. The Master, with a predatory grin, tore her pajamas. "No, no, no, leave me alone. I demand you to stop this now," she cried out.

The Master, holding Celine, glanced over at Tressa, who was being licked by one of his clones, while another clone was actively engaging with Cuddy. Cuddy's moans escalated, "Ahhh! Ahh! Ahh! I am cumming, I'm cumming, oh god!" Her voice was a symphony of pleasure and surrender. Other girls around the room started to moan louder, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of ecstasy.

Looking at Celine's body, The Master remarked, "With all this sexual wave energy, your pussy is still dry like a cucumber, and why is that?"

Celine, in response, slapped him, her voice fierce, "Get your fucking hands off me."

The Master smiled, undeterred, "Are you one of those women whose sexual genes in their brain completely flipped to the other side, in layman's terms... Are you gay?"

With conviction, Celine replied, "Yes, and there's nothing you can do about it."

With a swift motion, The Master made the room soundproof, the sounds of moans and thrusts now contained. He aimed the sonic screwdriver at Celine's head, her eyes lighting up with a sudden realization before he inserted it into her, her body responding with involuntary moans, "Ohh... MMh!" "Mmmh!" "Mmmmmmh! Ah! Ahh!" Her voice was a mixture of shock and burgeoning pleasure. "What is this? You can't get away with this."

As he licked her juices, The Master taunted, "This is you finally responding to masculine sexual energy." Celine squirted, her moans peaking, "Ah! Ah! AAAAAH! Oh my god, oh fuck!"

He then maneuvered her into a wheelbarrow position, her body now completely at his mercy. He began to thrust, each movement accelerating, her moans growing louder and more desperate, "Ah! Ah! Ah! Ahhh! Stop this, please, please stop this, Mmmh! Mmmh! Ohhh, I am coming, I'm cominggggg!" Her voice was a mix of begging and ecstasy.

Switching to the seashell position, he continued his assault, her legs intertwined behind his back, her body trembling in lust, "Yes, Yes, Yes, fuck me, oh fuck, yes!" The Master grunted, then came, his essence filling her, her eyes glowing gold from the overwhelming pleasure. Overcome with a new fervor, she immediately took him into her mouth, her voice muffled but clear, "Ohhhhh! this cock, this insane cock, I need more of this cock, oh please, more, more!"