Who Will Make the Coffee Part 1: Polymorphism
Polly was quite beside herself.
Walking back to the TARDIS with the Doctor, she adjusted her ill-fitting blouse on her shoulders, fidgeting. She pressed her lips together in frustrated pity, watching him struggle manfully to walk in her high-heeled shoes. It was no good telling him to take them off; he was determined, not to mention stubborn.
"Oh, Doctor, I'm sorry," she said for the third time. "I didn't know anything like this would happen - I never imagined!"
"I made the same mistake, Polly," the Doctor sighed. "It can't be helped now. As Alacine said, we'll just have to wait for the gene echo to wear off. And be glad the process isn't permanent!"
"Thank goodness," Polly agreed, the relief clear in her voice. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life as a man! Even if it's you, Doctor," she amended.
A few hours ago, while Ben and Jamie were off enjoying themselves at a hobbyist's weapons range, the Doctor and Polly had decided to sample a bit of the local nightlife. Polly had been enjoying herself immensely, feeling a bit as though she were the matriarch of their little family, taking an evening with its father figure while the boys were out to play.
A few drinks later, she'd entered and won a dance contest, to the crazy cheering of the young crowd. Beaming with pride, and feeling more appreciated for her feminine charms than she had for some weeks, she accepted the drink that was her prize. It was only natural she'd never heard of it - it was an alien world, after all.
The spectators had hooted and whistled madly as she drank from the crystal-cut glass, and she had smiled sweetly at them, stepping down from the winner's dais, returning to the Doctor's side, by the bar.
"I wonder what's in it," she had casually remarked, as it didn't taste at all strongly of alcohol.
And he had sipped at it and replied that he hadn't a clue.
And then everyone in the place was at her elbow, each trying to charm his or her way into a taste of her trophy drink. It quickly became a nuisance and, disgusted, she left it to them, the Doctor leading her out into the cool night air.
Perhaps she had been a little drunk. But as the music had faded behind them, and the stars twinkled above them, close and clear, she had snuggled into the Doctor and watched him return her sweet-eyed gaze. Almost innocently, they had kissed. Just a bit of tipsy affection between friends.
Over the next five minutes, her breasts went down by two cup sizes, and the Doctor sprouted a lovely set of his own.
The proprietor of the nightclub had apologised profusely, but not before wondering why on Pelliear the two of them would go drinking things they couldn't identify. By then, the Doctor and Polly looked like strange twins, each a delicate blend of themselves and the other.
By the time they had reached the TARDIS, the transformation was complete, and Polly was wanting some more comfortable pants.
Polly was flatly mortified to find Ben in the console room when they arrived, his face breaking into a rictus of hilarity.
	"Who lost the bet, then?" he laughed, his eyes dancing from the Doctor, the usual baggy clothes even baggier on Polly's tall, slender frame, to Polly, misearbly wearing a modestly short skirt and frilled blouse over the Doctor's body. Ben was clearly unable to decide which one cut a more amusing figure in the other's clothes. "'Ere, you're cheating, you haven't swapped shoes," he teased.
	"We couldn't help the shoes," Polly informed him. "Oh, Doc... Polly, please won't you take off those heels? I can tell they're hurting you. Don't be so proud."
	The Doctor gave her a studious look, eyes flicking to Ben and back again. "I suppose you're right, Doctor," he sighed, and then grinned mischievously. "It was rather stupid of me to choose such ridiculous articles of footwear."
	Polly clamped down on a cool fury. To tease her at a time like this! "Don't be silly, my dear, those shoes are lovely. Why, you didn't have any trouble at all with them this morning. You've just forgotten how to walk," she shot back, her last few words clipped and barbed.
	The look of terror on the Doctor's copy of her face was priceless. He coughed. "Perhaps I'll just go and find something more practical," he surrendered, prising Polly's shoes from his feet.
	"You forgot your stockings, Duchess," Ben observed as the Doctor padded past. "No wonder them heels are hurting you. You'll give yourself blis-"
	"Thank you, Ben," Polly interrupted, allowing the Doctor to escape. "I think she's learned her lesson."
	"All right, just tryin' to help," Ben answered back.
	"Where's Jamie?" she asked, shifting her hips uncomfortably.
	"Last I saw him, he was going to try to find the wardrobe room with the umbrella stand full of swords." Ben winked at her. "I told him I saw a Claymore in there. Why, you going to show off your new outfit?"
	"No, I am not," Polly said crisply, with her best impression of the Doctor's tone of voice. "I just wanted to make sure he came back with you. I'm not so confident of this planet as I was when we arrived."
	"What, enforcing silly bets, are they? Maybe you had better go show Jamie your skirt after all. Polly's bound to hide your clothes 'til the humiliation is complete. Mind you," he smiled, leaning closer. "I appreciate your little sacrifice, anyway. I don't know how you got Pol out of her brassiere, Doctor, but she don't look half sexy in your shirt, au naturale."
	Polly felt her face turn an interesting colour. "I'll just go make sure he f... she finds a sensible pair of shoes," she babbled, dashing out into the corridor.
Unfortunately, the Doctor was not in her room when she arrived. She sank onto her bed and sighed a bit painfully to herself, imagining all the havoc that could be wreaked. Then she shook her head. It was no use inventing disaster. There was no real reason she shouldn't just enjoy herself.
She stood and faced her long mirror, turning her head this way and that, sizing her new self up. Ignoring a slight blush, and to the best of her ability her new tackle, she shed her clothes.
The Doctor's body was not at all bad to look at, she mused, testing and watching the way she moved in it. She decided at once it was time to see what he could really look like with half an ounce of effort.
Snatching her terry-cloth bathrobe from a hook by the shower and swaddling herself in it, she headed for the nearest wardrobe room.
Unfortunately, the wardrobe she found was not as empty as her room had been.
	"Oh... Hello, Jamie," Polly said sheepishly, tugging her bathrobe more tightly around her.
	The young Scot turned, cheerfully brandishing the rapier he'd been swishing through the air. "Doctor! Have y' seen a Claymore anywhere hereabout?"
	"Goodness, don't point that thing at me! I wouldn't know a Claymore if I saw one," she replied, beginning to sift through a rack of hanging jackets and shirts, while Jamie excitedly described the sword he was hoping to find. "I'm sorry," she said truthfully when he was finished, "I haven't seen one like that. Say, Jamie, is there any underwear in here? I can't seem to find any."
	"Don't know much about underwear," Jamie replied, a little shyly.
	"Oh, yes, of course," Polly said, trying not to chuckle, and then lit up with inspiration. "Of course! Where did we find those boxer shorts for you to wear under your spacesuit? You know, on the moon?"
	"Oh, aye," Jamie remembered, and pointed. "In yon chest over there."
	"Wonderful," she said gratefully, digging out a pair of boxer briefs that looked about the right size.
	Jamie watched openly as she tugged them on. "Lock yourself out of your room again, then?"
	"Of course not," Polly said smartly, slipping into the rest of the clothes she'd chosen. "I just can't seem to find it at the moment. You know how the TARDIS can be."
	"Aye, I do. But I like it all the same."
	Polly turned around, moved. "Oh, Jamie. I'm glad. Ben and - and Polly and I, we're ever so glad you came along with us." She looked down at herself, back up at the boy. "Even if we do run into strange circumstances, well, rather a lot."
	Jamie gave her a long, deep stare, and finally said, "What have you got on?"
	"Oh, don't you like it?" Polly looked down her velvet sleeves, ending in poetic ruffs. "I thought it looked quite smart."
	"It's fine," Jamie shrugged. "Just - well, you know."
	"Not a dirty great black frock coat?"
	"...Aye," he agreed, looking embarrassed.
	"I just thought I'd try a change." She smiled at him, amused at how unsettled he seemed to be. "Don't worry, Jamie, I'll probably be right back to my old self by tomorrow night." Her smile faded slightly as Jamie, with his earnest stare, stepped closer, the tip of his rapier dipping off to the side.
	"I like you best bare, anyway."
	Best bear? Polly repeated to herself blankly, and then she realised Jamie was blushing and fighting hard not to look shyly away. "Oh," she said lamely, overwhelmed.
Jamie smiled lopsidedly, clearly pleased with the reaction. He stepped closer still, tossing the blade carelessly onto a pile of scarves. Polly was caught like a deer in headlamps by those clear, dark eyes as Jamie pulled her down by her velvet lapels and kissed her as though he'd done it before. Her hands raised reflexively in surprise.
And that was when she heard her own throat clearing itself pointedly, over by the wardrobe door.
Jamie whipped away from her as if stung, suddenly studying the rack of trench coats next to him. Polly slowly lowered her hands.
	"Hello, you two," the Doctor said cheerfully, walking in as though nothing had been going on. His manner changed in a flash as he clapped eyes on Polly properly. "What have you got on?"
	Polly looked similarly offended. "What have you got on? That's not me at all!"
	"Not you?" the Doctor scoffed, tugging the lapels of his baggy suit straight. "How can it not be you?"
	"Well, for a start, I'm a girl."
	"With a little reflection, I think you'll find you're a man and I'm a girl."
	"How can you tell under that?"
	"And that frilly nonsense is masculine, is it?"
	"It's lovely!" Polly defended herself.
	"Well, if you insist on dressing me as a complete ponce, I'll just dress you however I feel," the Doctor huffed, and stormed right back out.
	Jamie snuck out from the coats, giving Polly and the door both extremely distrustful looks. "What's going on?" he demanded.
	"Oh, Jamie. I'm sorry. I don't know if I can explain." She raised a hand to rub her temple. "I don't know if I should explain. I know I started it, but it's not just me that's in this mess now."
	"I don't understand," Jamie told her. "And now I don't know if I want to."
	"Oh," Polly fretted, and finally came to a decision. "Jamie, I'm not the Doctor. I'm Polly. We got transformed, and we won't change back till tomorrow."
	Jamie stepped back, seeming to shrink in horror.
	"I won't tell anyone, Jamie. Please don't worry. I'm your friend and I won't betray you. I - I didn't mean to - I didn't know what to do. I'm so confused..."
	The boy hesitated, looking less panicked. "Aye, myself as well... Polly?"
	She nodded. "That's right. Polly."
	"And Polly is really you? I mean, the Doctor?"
	"He is."
	Jamie stared at the floor for a moment, thinking, and then spoke slowly. "What if Ben makes the same mistake as I did myself?"
	Polly clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. "No!"
	"Should you not be keeping a wee eye on them, then?" Jamie suggested, beginning to warm to the ridiculous nature of the situation.
	Polly stared back at him in panic, and together they bolted for the door.