DOCTOR WHO fucks

The school hall buzzed with lively chatter, a patchwork of overlapping voices blending into a constant hum. Parents and teachers navigated between neatly arranged tables, clutching appointment sheets, exchanging polite nods, and making small talk.

At a table near the center of the room sat Mr. Smith, a genial man with a soft Mancunian lilt. His welcoming demeanor put most parents at ease, but the conversation he was about to have wasn't entirely casual. He gestured warmly for Mrs. Meredith and her 16-year-old daughter Tressa to take the seats opposite him.

"Right, Mrs. Denham," Mr. Smith began, folding his hands neatly on the table. His eyes were kind but serious. "Let's have a little natter about Tressa here. She's doing proper well in her studies, no doubt about it, but if I'm honest, I don't think she's giving it her all."

Meredith turned toward her daughter, raising an eyebrow. "What's this, luv? Not graftin' as much as you should?" Her tone was a blend of concern and teasing reproach.

Tressa sighed, her shoulders slumping as she fiddled with the strap of her bag. "Mum, I'm doing alright! I've got good grades, haven't I?"

Mr. Smith nodded thoughtfully but didn't let the subject drop. "Aye, she has. But, y'know, there's more in her. I can see it. She's got the brains, no doubt, but sometimes she seems distracted. At this stage, in Year 11, every bit of effort counts."

Meredith leaned back slightly, crossing her arms as her brow furrowed. "Eh, Tres, what's all this about? You've been spendin' half your life on that bloody phone, haven't ya?"

Tressa's eyes rolled instinctively, her tone slipping into defensive frustration. "Oh, come off it, Mum. It's not just my phone. It's..." She hesitated, her words trailing off.

Meredith's expression softened, though her voice remained firm. "Aye, but you've got to get it sorted. You're proper clever, Tres. Don't be lettin' nowt hold you back."

"Exactly," Mr. Smith chimed in, leaning forward slightly. "Tressa, you're one of the top in class when you put your mind to it. You've got so much potential—it's just about keeping your focus and cracking on."

Tressa shifted in her seat, her defensive posture easing as the earnestness of their words began to sink in. "Yeah, alright," she murmured, her tone more thoughtful now. "I'll try."

Meredith smiled warmly, reaching across the table to touch her daughter's hand briefly. "That's my girl. We'll get it sorted, eh? Don't worry, luv. You've got this."

Mr. Smith's face lit up with a broad grin. "Buzzin' to see what you can do, Tressa. Keep at it."

As they stepped out of the hall into the crisp evening air, the world outside felt calm and cool. The dim orange glow of the streetlamps reflected softly off the shiny red paint of their parked Chevy. Meredith fished her keys from her bag, jingling faintly in the quiet.

Just as she unlocked the car, Tressa froze, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"Mum," she said, her voice a mix of shock and wonder, "is that...?"

Meredith turned, following Tressa's pointing finger. Just past their car, a blue police box stood incongruously in the car park, its vibrant blue paint almost glowing in the dim light. It looked pristine and otherworldly, starkly different from the modern red phone boxes they were used to.

Meredith's breath hitched, her hand trembling as the keys slipped from her grasp. Her voice quivered, a mix of astonishment and memory. "It can't be," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the box. "It's been ten years..."

Meredith asked cautiously, "What are you doing here?"

The Master tilted his head, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Oh, just cleaning up a mess. Some Red Devils fans caught the attention of actual devils."

Tressa's eyes lit up with both joy and alarm. "Really?"

The Master shrugged with mock seriousness. "Well… not exactly. More like devilishly handsome vampires, to be precise. Had to slash them up. Made a right mess."

Tressa gasped, then broke into a wide grin. "That's sickk. In it?"

Meredith stood awkwardly on the hood of her car, her arms folded tightly across her chest. . "Alright, okay. Nice to catch up, Doctor. Let's get moving."

But Tressa wasn't ready to go. Turning quickly to her mother, she said, "Oh! Wait, Mum." She spun back to face the Master, her excitement barely contained. "Doctor, can I tell you a secret?"

The Master raised a curious eyebrow. "Go on, then."

Tressa clasped her hands together, her face lighting up with a pleading smile. "Yesterday was my birthday. And for my school project, I'd love to see Alpha Centauri up close."

The Master chuckled knowingly, his eyes narrowing. He smirked. "Hah! You're a terrible liar. But sure—why not? If your mum's alright with it."

Meredith, who had been inching closer to open the car's door, sighed heavily. "Luv, we'd be late getting back to prepare dinner. Let's just go, yeah?"

Tressa leaned against the open car window, her tone turning playful. "Mum, it's a time machine. We can never be late."

Meredith hesitated but answered "Alright… but just for a bit."

With a squeal of delight, Tressa grabbed her mum's hand and led her toward the TARDIS. The Master gestured grandly toward the door. "After you, ladies."

As the Master set up his TARDIS controls, adjusting the coordinates, Tressa watched, mesmerized, having not seen it for ten years. He silently communicated telepathically to Meredith: "I have left your pussy dry for ten years. How do you feel?"

Meredith, not wanting to show weakness, answered in her mind: "I feel just fine. Your pathetic, petty games don't work on me."

The Master telepathically retorted: "What do you do with your husband? Do you fake it every time? Aren't you tired of faking it?"

Then, before pulling down the lever, he turned to Tressa, who was eyeing the controls. "Do you want to do it?" he asked.

Tressa, hiding her excitement, replied casually, "Sure." She nervously pulled the lever.

The TARDIS passed through the vortex, rotating in the space of Alpha Centauri. The Master used his sonic screwdriver to open the doors. A majestic light from the star filled the doorway.

"It's beautiful," Tressa breathed.

"Yeah, it really is," Meredith agreed. They stared out, near the open TARDIS doors, in wonder.

The Master then closed the doors. "That's enough. Stare at it too much, it might blind you."

The TARDIS materialized back in the car park at the exact evening time they had left. Tressa, leaving the TARDIS, said, "Thank you again, Doctor."

The Master replied, "No worries."

As Meredith started driving the car with Tressa, the Master subtly flicked his sonic screwdriver in Meredith's direction.

That night, in the Denham's bedroom, Meredith lay in bed with her husband, Jim. Jim, reading a book, asked, "So, how was school?"

Meredith answered, "It was alright, but the teacher said she seemed a bit distracted."

Jim, not fully paying attention, replied, "Oh, she's a teenager. You know how messy it is, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Meredith said. They remained silent for a moment. Then Meredith said, "Honey, I was thinking, what if she applied to college in the U.S.?"

Jim, still not listening properly, responded, "Sure, sure. Whatever's best for her."

As they slept, Meredith received a memory sent by the screwdriver as a dream: visions of her being pounded hard by the Master in the TARDIS. She began to moan softly, unheard by her deeply sleeping husband, until she experienced an orgasm—an orgasm she hadn't had in ten years.