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Disclaimer: This story contains content that should not be read by people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality whatsoever. 100% fiction means real life rape is WRONG. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. If you feel rape in the real world is a good thing, bend over in a prison and whistle dixie. While I'm disclaiming, racism, homophobia and other bigotry of any kind are also really fucking stupid. I don't own Dr Who, or any characters and make no profit from this story. Please read the story codes above to ensure that you are not going to be offended by, or otherwise dislike, the content. This was written for the prompt 'embrangle'

Description: The Master (Ainley) has made extreme modifications to the Seventh Doctor's companion Ace

Content Codes: MF, ncon, pwp, trans



Doctor Who: Carry Ace
by JD ([email protected])

Water dripped slowly from the high rocky ceiling to splash against the cold dirt floor far below. The irregularly repeated noise penetrated Ace's unconsciousness before she drifted awake. As soon as her eyes flickered blearily open she tried to turn towards the noise. She couldn't do so, not even an inch. Her entire body was completely numb; devoid of feeling, except for the slight tingling of her eyelids as they moved across her panicked eyes.

She could not see her body, and assumed she was angled upwards on some kind of slope. An artificial light shone; the source beyond her field of vision. As the tingling spread slowly across her face the damp earthy scent of her surroundings became apparent. Ace recalled a voice calling for help but nothing more. She wondered if she had fallen down some forgotten pit, dragging her torch, and paralyzed herself on impact. She imagined her spine broken, vertebrae protruding from her shredded back as blood pumped unfelt into the dirt.

"Awake at last, human? It's a wonder that your inferior brain makes the effort. Better, surely, to remain inert and leave the universe an infinitesimally more intelligent environment."

The Master's voice! The Doctor's - the Professor as Ace liked to call him - oldest, cruelest, most drumbeat-obsessed enemy. Not that Ace knew of the drums. She hadn't accidentally fallen at all, but had instead been captured by the evil renegade Time Lord. Her body was too numbed even to shiver, but knowing that she was at the non-mercy of such evil chilled Ace. Facing a Dalek with an Omega charged baseball bat felt safer. The paralysis continued to fade. Ace's tongue protruded between cold lips. She thought she tasted blood as she swirled around her mouth. To her mounting horror, she felt only gums instead of teeth.

"I, on the other hand, increase the average intelligence of the universe tenfold by merely existing. Rejoice, however. You have some small use in my final move against the Doctor, human. To simply kill you would barely slow him; but when he sees the work of art I have made of you, why, he may completely lose the will to live. It was a pleasure to embrangle you in my stratagem, to make you an essential component where before you were entirely worthless!"

Ace wanted the Master to shut his gob. Still unable to move her head, she realized it was locked into place by a brace. She could feel the warm material hard against her neck. A large mirror was suddenly pushed in front of Ace, showing her the full extent of the Master's 'art'. She tried to scream, to shout her terrified anguish to the farthest stars. Nothing came out; the Master had removed the physical components of her voice, save for her tongue. It was not all he had taken.

Ace's arms were gone, severed at the shoulders. An advanced translucent living-metal of the Master's own creation smoothly covered the stumps, bonded strongly to the carved flesh and bone beneath. Her legs, too, had been sliced virtually from hips to crotch and sealed with the same material. Unless the Doctor could reverse the procedures, Ace would never again walk, or run, or hold a lover's face in her hands and tell him of her desires. The Master's laugh grew louder as Ace's despair increased; he hadn't stopped with her limbs.

The strong bio-metal was somehow organically bolted along her sternum, a sturdy carrying handle mounted between her breasts. She had become luggage. The addition went unnoticed for a moment as the mutilated companion noticed the heavy flaying of her once smooth and perky breasts. A thinner, more pliable version of the bio-metal had been grafted on over the visible fat and blood, from the base up to her surrounding her undamaged areolae. A thick ring of purest silver pierced each nipple, strangely decorative against Ace's transparent breasts

As she tore her eyes from her chest, Ace saw the tube running from her urethra up across her belly, past the handle to just beneath her chin. A thicker tube emerged around her hip to merge with it; the brown contents left her in no doubt as to its source. The Master clearly did not want his luggage fouling the floor. Ace began to cry as the final paralysis wore off. Though the physical pain was slight, her fear and degradation were overwhelming.

Ace felt cold air upon her stumps; the bio-metal transmitted signals like skin. The same strange feeling came from her head; Ace stretched her eyes upwards past the view of her pinched, toothless mouth. The Master had shaved her head and removed most of her skull and internal protective lining. A new type of highly advanced bio-metal closely followed the contours of Ace's brain. It was completely transparent. The master stood behind her, naked, erect and masturbating. She was barely off the floor

"I find human weakness physically repulsive, but there is a certain pleasure to be taken from viewing your exposed brain. You will feel my superior ejaculate running across you mind, but the protective covering won't let it damage you. You'll be awake when I carry you before the Doctor."

There was nothing poor broken Ace could do. She had never known such helplessness, such fear. She prayed the Professor would euthanize her. The limbless companion cursed the ancient scheme that saw Fenric embrangle her in the Professor's adventures. The masturbating Master tugged on the self-pumping excreta tube beneath her chin, extending it between her lips. Her gag reflex had been stolen with her voice; as the first lump of Ace's waste was pumped between her lips, she could only swallow the putrid foulness.

It seemed that final humiliation was enough for the Master. Through the mirror, and tears, Ace saw the thick white splashes across her brain, felt the slimy mess dribbling unnaturally across her thinly protected lobes. He carried her to meet the Doctor, dripping like water in a cave.

    

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