Okay I refuse to think that Whouffle is over. I will probably ship it until my death. So. Yeah. I was honestly unaware that it was possible to feel so many emotions at the same time, equally. Excited and depressed and sad and giddy. Oh lovely. Why did I start watching a show that changes main characters every few years. Whyyyyyyy.

I do suppose though, you'll probably want to know when this takes place. It's somewhere between the 50th episode and the Christmas Special. Anyway I hope you enjoy this.

Character rights of the wondrous Doctor and his lovely companion Clara Oswald belong to the BBC. But the story is mine. Thank you.

~Matteo :33

The TARDIS had run out of hot water. Which was basically, the TARDIS had run out of water in general. This wasn't an irregularity and The Doctor, with his arrogance and suave nature, would have usually brushed it off his shoulder, but he was in a bit of a pickle. By a bit, he meant a lot. And by a lot, he literally meant, there was grime covering his whole body, his whole suit, sinking into every kink and crevice that his body had. But of course, he had brought that upon himself.

The Moon of Kipland had been more than he had bargained for. And not just in the beauty of the women that he encountered there (if you could call them women). But how they had seemed to change into whatever you desired in life. Some men had said that the ladies turned into gold, for that was what they desired most in life, others their childhood friends and even others to-well it was a long list. The Doctor was simply there for one reason. He was curious.

He wanted to see who would show up as his most desired.

It could have been any of his companions. Rose with her snarky smile and eyes like the brightest blue skied day in autumn. Martha, her hair pulled back tightly, a look of determination written across her face. Donna, one of his ginger companions (why wasn't he ever ginger?), with her lacking in memory and fullness in sass. Amy and Rory, who had fallen together, and loved each other to the bitter end. He smiled just thinking about a few of them.

And-of course-there was Clara.

Beautiful Clara with her pointy chin and large brown eyes. Her dark brown hair that flowed from her head like a waterfall, but floated on her shoulders like a cloud. How at the end of her hair, it curled in, looking strangely childish. But yet she looked simply ravishing at the same time. Her short, almost mouse-like, physique seemed to match his tall, giraffe-like way of life. And he loved it.

But he didn't know he loved it so much she would appear on the women of the Moon of Kipland.

Everywhere he looked, the girl, his Clara Oswald would appear. She'd be smiling, waving, grinning. Deep down he knew it wasn't her, but oh how lovely it was there. So many Claras' to stand around and stare at. Mind you, it was like swimming in a sea of Claras', because of her height, but he didn't seem to mind.

Which was when everything turned sour.

The Claras' had cornered him, and they seemed to try to get him in some sort of sexual situation. Which was harder to get out of, then he thought it was going to be. Not that he wasn't used to sexual situations, he was married to River Song for goodness sake! It was just the way they cornered him. Pressing up against him like they wanted more. They wanted him.

But he was indeed a Time Lord. Many people wanted you when you were a Time Lord. For both good and bad reasons.

One Clara had started untying his rather tightly tied bow tie, which was where he drew the line. He had figured out that in order to get out of this situation (without giving his, rather handsome regeneration up) he would need to stop feeling completely vulnerable to all these Claras'. Which was more difficult than it seemed. Clara was his companion, and they (whoever 'they' were) were using her glamourous figure, curves and all, to seduce him.

Which was, even though he didn't want to say it, working.

He felt almost obliged to do exactly as the Kiplanders had told him to do. And suddenly, it clicked in his head. Everything he had ever heard about the Kiplanders fell into place in his puzzle-like brain. The fact that hardly anyone ever left the Moon, clicked in to how anyone who did end up leaving the Moon went insane. They were obsessed on whatever they had seen on the people of Kipland, and they chased it until they died.

They had gotten what they wanted, and they thought it was true. So when they found out it was just a big lie, they didn't believe it. They had seen it with their own eyes, so it had to be true, they had told themselves, the big-chinned man recalled. They chased it and chased it until their own time eventually ran out.

But that wasn't going to happen today, he thought to himself. There were people who needed him. Universes who needed him, planets and kings and little old women who needed his help crossing the busy streets of her home town. And most of all, Clara needed him. Or he needed Clara, sometimes he couldn't tell which.

By the time he had stopped his train of thought, and dragged himself back to what was happening in front of him, he was nearly naked. If this was the real Clara, he couldn't bear to what she would have said to him. Probably something awkward and seductive at the same time. His was face as red as a fresh, plump tomato. And his (near nude) body was covered in what seemed to be dirt. But it was clearly not dirt. It was coming from the Claras' who were running their hands up and down his twiggy form.

They seemed to be making some sort of cocoon around him, and the brown, dirt-like substance was hardening considerably. If he wanted to leave, his time was right then and there.

So, with effort, the agile man pulled out his sonic. Hey, it was a good idea to carry it around in other places than his coat pocket. Especially in dire situations, such as this one. The familiar green light illuminated his hand and the Kiplanders stepped back. Their Clara forms shifting slightly (clearly out of shock) and the bow tie wearing alien got a glimpse of their actual forms. The gruesome creatures that were too terrible to even describe. The forms that would forever be burned into his eyes. The eyes that had seen the most terrible things.

But he escaped, the sonic breaking through the sticky, dirt infested cocoon and allowing him to run free. The Doctor snatched his clothes up in one hand and ran. His bare feet slammed against the ground, and his awkward limbs flailed around as he sprinted away. He ran and ran and ran and ran and ran, until he reached his sexy blue box. And then he ran again, to anywhere but where he was then.

There was no way he was returning to the Moon of Kipland.

Which left him where he was now. Nearly naked. In the TARDIS. And not knowing what to do. Of course, he could have showered. But there was no water. The TARDIS had made it so. It was her revenge for what he had done to her. Left her out in the middle of nowhere, and she was scared. The Moon of Kipland was a frightening place. People pretending to be things that they weren't. She was alone and horrified, so she turned off the water on him. Of course, it was only a playful joke, but it was awfully inconvenient.

There were only so many places he could go to get a shower, The Doctor had realized. And the only person who, he knew, would most likely let him in was... Clara. He ran a hand through his floppy hair, realizing what he had to do. His face flushing for the second time that day and he turned around, flipping some levers and switches. Heading to earth. To Clara.

Okay so that was part one. This will probably be about four parts. So please Review, Favourite and Follow and all those lovely things. I'll love you forever! 3