The live nativity scene.
Good grief, Koschei had outdone himself on this one. The baaing mice in tiny sheep's costumes, the little fellows with golden wigs and wings attached to their togas.
The Lemming Lord...
The Doctor considered this for a while being once again safe and sound back in his TARDIS.
What had happened to the Lemming Lord?
Well he could just imagine him standing in the front line of the battalion he was about to lead shrieking in his high-pitched voice: "Charge!"
No, he had to correct himself, the Lemming Lord had quit his, long before the Doctor had graduated, after an dispute with another faculty member. Their theological differences had unfortunately climaxed in a comical episode involving the Lemming Lord hiding underneath the carpet after mistaking the shadow of a passing student for a diving owl and the lecturer of blasphemous perception having misplaced his empty pack of cigarettes.
Very comical indeed.
His whereabouts after this Academy changing incident had been shrouded in mystery.
Had he found a new home in the tundra of Gallifrey were he had joined his fellow free lemmings?
Had his regeneration cycle finally stabilised?
Or was he still frozen in place hiding in some cave, gone with all the other Time Lords after the timelock?
Pathetic, soppy old you...
The Doctor looked up.
"Who is there?" it echoed through the TARDIS' corridors.
It's not 'there', it's here.
Unlike the first time, the source of the voice was definitely right behind him
The Doctor turned. A smiling Master stared him in the eye as he waved cheerfully.
"Hello Doctor," the Master exclaimed before embracing his archenemy tightly.
The Doctor struggled under his strong arms.
"You...but how..." the Doctor began but his attention got drawn to the ticking sound deriving from his back.
He snatched at the piece of paper the Master had attached to his vest during his embrace.
"Please detonate me," he read out loud and panic-stricken ripped off the small explosive device fastened to the note.
The Master grabbed it, opened a door at random and hauled it into it.
There was a thud, the clinker of splintering glass and a sticky substance oozing through the crack.
"No, my jam storage!"
"You have a jam storage?" the Master asked mockingly.
"What else is there to put on a buttered scone?" the Doctor wailed.
"Honey," the Master suggested, "nougat, the blood of your defeated enemies...you know, be creative..."
The Doctor took in the unexpected picture in front of him.
The Master.
Inside his TARDIS.
"How..."
"I sneaked inside after the lights went out," he explained while sitting down, crossing his legs as he sipped the Doctor's tea.
"But..."
"I created a time loop version of myself you were saying goodbye to so pathetically."
"Can you please let me pose the question before answering them?" the Doctor snapped, "that's very rude."
"Of course I can," the Master replied," as a matter of fact I graciously allowed you to pose that question just now."
The Master's face formed a frown as he treated the cup to another glance and spilled its contents over the console.
The Doctor sighed, wiping away the hot liquid with his sleeve.
"What do you want?" he asked unnerved.
"You should consider getting a teacat yourself," the Master continued unperturbed, "You can't live on that stuff."
"Actually I did quite well with that," The Doctor disapproved and glowered at the Master, "That was the last bit of my Darjeeling. I actually quite like the taste."
"I'm very sorry, why didn't you say o earlier?" the Master asked, visibly shocked.
The Doctor treated him to a scrutinizing glare. "Where is this going?" he asked, "You do realize that I'm well aware of the fact that you possess less empathy than a starving lion..."
But before the Doctor could have finished the Master had grabbed the Doctor and kissed him violently, thereby sending both of them tumbling down to the floor.
The Doctor's surprise overcame the first shock but still he remained immobile and let the Master shove his tongue down his throat.
Eventually he managed to free his mouth from the mad Master's.
"What did you do that for?" the Doctor gasped for air while scowling at the Master.
"To leave the sweetest aftertaste in your mouth," the Master replied dreamily.
The Doctor wiped his face and spat. "You don't happen to have contracted a fatal disease transmitted by droplet infection. Oh dear, don't tell me it is a new Cheetah virus and now I'm going to contract it and everyone is going to forget about it until the next season..."
The Master placed a firm finger on the Doctor's lips as he shushed him into silence. "You do have a wild imagination," the Master replied, smiling smugly, "But I'm afraid I have to disappoint you. It was simply the heat of the moment. And your cute pouting lips. And your beguiling bittersweet smell..."
The Master dug his teeth into the Doctor's throat and kissed and sucked at the tender flesh above the carotid atery. He struggled to remain in control over the Doctor's body, his beautiful slender limbs and soft skin.
"The smut flies," the Doctor exclaimed, "They bit you, didn't they? We encountered them on the Train and you..."
"Oh, how to shut you up," the Master chuckled before adding, "Oh, I know..."
"No, you don't...!" the Doctor shouted but knew by the sound of unzipping zippers that the Master had disposed of his trousers and was now standing in front of him, his member ascending into proud Time Lord glory.
The Doctor hid his face behind his hands and shook his head.
"Do you have any explanation for me getting aroused by this?" the Doctor asked and cursed himself for hiding his own arousal so badly.
"You'll be surprised to find that the common smut fly (drosophila smuttus) distributes its feared poison via its saliva, which travels through the blood circulation to feed on the person's dirty mind," the Master explained, "And the enzymes produced in the brain are small enough to travel through the blood circulation and thereby can be transferred to another person..."
The Doctor reached down to the small wound on his neck, only now realizing that the Master had drawn blood.
"Oh, I'll get you for this," the Doctor swore while licking his lips nervously.
"Possibly," the Master agreed, "But in the meantime I'm afraid I'll have to draw your attention away from my glorious manhood to the gift I have prepared for you. It is Christmas after all."
"Doesn't infecting me with a virus count as a gift?" the Doctor asked, ripping open his shirt as a wave of sheer lust flushed through his veins.
"This was a gift from me to myself," the Master agreed, "As for you... well, it's something that could come in handy... especially against your handsome fifty-first century human friend..."
The Doctor was handed a box.
"It's sonic," the Master assured him.
The Doctor shook it gently. He unwrapped his gift and stared at it disbelievingly.
"No, you didn't," the Doctor replied, "There's no such thing as a sonic vibrator..."
But then the thing hummed to life. And the Master, amused by the surprise springing to the Doctor's face added to the obscene noise:
"Should we give it a try?"
This concludes the Paradox Train, this year's Christmas Special. We hope you enjoyed it.
Many thanks to those who took the time to leave comments or favorited the story.
Merry Christmas from TraditionalGaily, , DarkSideoftheLoon
Cultural and historical references etc…
Officer Crabtree's heart-warming pee and piss jokes are originally from 'Allo Allo'
Loretta first appeared in Monty Python's 'Life of Brian', but she was kind enough to appear in our Christmas Special to amuse us with her 70s feminism.
Captain Picard and Data, as mentioned in the rejected fanfiction ideas cookies, belong to the Star Trek fandom and will hopefully stay there, though one of the authors of this story feels this is the right time to state that Data/Geordie is their OTP.
Fortunately for the Doctor the Snorafruit had gone off. How the Master got his hands on something from the RPG Maker Game 'The Sandman' by Uri will always remain a mystery.
Garry from the video game Ib by Fumy has locked himself up in the restroom to escape yet homoerotic tension tunnel. Not the best choice of places.
Sweeney Todd may or may not have existed, but he was glad to make a cameo nonetheless.
The chapter 'The R-bomb' features a historical references. Turns out Koschei wasn't the first one to think of it, since the British experimented on similar hidden bombs during WWII and if you don't believe me google 'explosive rat'.
Unfortunately we were unable to give credit to all authors using Mary Sues, but then again we don't want to.
Tiny Tim got drunk afterwards and cursed his creator Charles Dickens for his limp.
My Little Pony friendship is magic exists. That's bad enough at it can get.
Lovely alien couple on their way to their wedding, are former members of the Ginyu force from Dragonball by Akira Toriyama. Burter hasn't found the courage yet to break the news to his parents.
The unnamed animatronics will remain unnamed. (Take that Scott Cawthon)
Ridcule Poireaux doesn't like to be confused with his twin brother Agatha Christie's Poirot. And don't even think about telling him that they look the same. On the upside he just solved his first case. Though the sugar cube melted in his tea before it could have been arrested.
The giant foot along with the rest of feet found on earth, belong to Monty Python's flying circus.
Abridged Zane was created by xthedarkone and shadyvox. Though in his opinion it sucks to be them.
Bastura represents all the negligible British characters in dubbed anime. Therefore we pity him but mostly because he's a portmanteau of Bastion from xthedarkone's and shadyvox' Yu-Gi-OhGX the Abridged Series and Little Kuriboh's 'Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series'.
In 'Schism' the Lord Presiden'ts fish name is an anagram of a real life voice actor. Wonder if you can figure that one out. First one to spot it, gets a free ride on the Parody Train.
Dr Bumby is part of EA's 'Alice Madness returns' and he is right about their poor marketing strategy for said game.
Teatime may or may not have killed Dr Angus Bumby but he definitely hasn't laid a finger on his poor deceased creator Sir Terry Prattchett (mayherestinpeace) who has left us far too soon.
Torchwood is Torchwood. Nothing funny about that.
But seriously, look out for the smut flies…