“Your pussy is so wet,” Kayla purred to me. “And your notes are impeccable.”

Sixteen days had passed since my return, and my raven-haired best friend and I were lying in bed. Both of us nude, I lay over her legs while she fingered my dripping cunt to another orgasm. Kayla had one hand on my hastily scrawled notes that cataloged my adventures, the other alternating between playing in my wetness and fingering my swollen clit. The hammering noises of construction could be faintly heard; the new Contraption, which we dubbed the Argo, was almost ready.

“From your notes, it doesn’t appear that you moved through space or time, but through different realms.” Kayla moaned as my fingers plunged into her dripping pussy. “That feels so good. Lick my slit like a good girl.”

I positioned myself between her legs and ran my tongue slowly up and down her cunt. Lost in the lusty sensations, Kayla’s fingers accelerated their attack on my pleasure centers.

“That’s it, lick my cunt; make me cum on your face. Stick a finger in my asshole and fuck both of my holes.”

I plunged two fingers into her oozing snatch, making her scream in delight. Another finger found its way into her ass, which caused her to writhe in ecstasy, her hips humping my hand.

“Oh, fuck. Make me cum,” she moaned. “Harder. Fuck me harder. Lick my pussy. Suck on my clit, Ariel.”

We found our rhythm, my tongue whirling over her hardened nub as I gently nibbled on it, sucking it into my mouth. Her body slammed against my penetrating fingers, and she writhed, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Don’t stop; please, don’t stop. Fuck me, fuck me. Fuck me harder.”

Her reading forgotten, Kayla erupted with an intense orgasm, squirting her juices all over my mouth and hand.

“Mmm, aaah. So good. Oh, God, I’m fucking cumming.”

My tongue slowed and eased up on the pressure as her body flailed about in rapture. Kayla’s orgasm began with an overpowering crescendo of release, smaller waves of pleasure rippling through her body as she moaned and writhed in delight. Finally regaining control of her body, she reached to the nightstand and grabbed one of her inventions, a windup sex toy.

The phallic object consisted of a winder at the base and a flexible leather shaft. Ornately adorned, swells, ridges, and flowers in bas-relief added texturing to enhance one’s pleasure when inserted. The ratcheting sound as she wound it made us both giggle.

“This,” she said, “will give you what you need.”

Letting go of the winding key, the toy sprang into life. The internal clock spring and gears ground away merrily, animating the sex toy, a hum emanating from the mechanical dildo. The upper half, covered in smooth leather, throbbed and undulated in her hand. I watched as it thrust and pulsed.

“Fuck yourself with this. The top part,” she tapped it as it gyrated, “has an internal shaft that spins around. There are glass spheres, marbles, inside, and the rotation of the shaft makes them move around. You’ll love how…” she trailed off.

She jumped up, her large breasts bouncing. “Eureka! I have it.”

Not bothering to get dressed, she ran from the room, saying, “enjoy the toy. Worlds of possibility!” I heard her shouting as she ran to wherever she was headed. “Separate spheres, parallel worlds! How could I not see that? Space-time matrix!”

Confused but still horny, I pressed the writhing, clockwork toy against my labia, delighting in the vibrations and massaging feeling of the little balls being churned inside the leather sleeve. As it pulsed and hummed, I felt my pussy react. I was already soaking wet, so I slipped it into my hole and fucked myself, my free hand tugging on my nipples.

The toy snaked around inside my cunt, pushing me closer and closer to orgasm. As I panted out my passion, I fucked myself with it, hard and deep, until my legs were quaking.

“Oooh, shit, fuck, I’m so close.”

The toy ground to a halt, forcing me to pull it out of my hot tunnel and wind it up once more. Rather than fuck myself with it more, I thrust the tip over my clit, swirling it around and over the extremely sensitive pleasure center.

“Fuck, cumming.” An orgasm ripped through my core. My mouth opened, but all I could manage were obscenities. My legs shook as my body rocked in the throes of lust.

Throwing on a robe, I left our boudoir to check on Kayla. I found her in the lab, in the research corner, a dozen books open on the table. She was still nude, toking on an ornately-carved meerschaum pipe. The white tendrils of smoke rose, billowing lazily.

“I figured it out,” Kayla exclaimed. “I’d wondered what Professor Summerland meant by worlds of possibility.”

“Huh?” I inquired.

“Here,” she pointed to a handwritten journal. It was my father’s handwriting. “After his first experimental journey, he cited that his calculations in the space-time matrix were incorrect. After that, his notes no longer referenced the possibility of travel, but the ‘worlds of possibility’. Do you know what that means?”

“Worlds of possibility?”

“Yes, Ariel. How many dimensions are there?”

“Um, three.”

“Not exactly. For something to physically exists, we need at least four dimensions. Height, Length, Width, and duration. If something doesn’t exist for a period of time, it cannot exist at all.”

“Yes. So?”

“Good thing you have me around. What your father did, quite accidentally, was to create an energy field that circumvented the four used dimensions. Rather than discovering a new method of travel, he pulled himself out of our plane and into a completely different one, just like the marbles in the dildo. He discovered the means to travel to another world.”

“In English, Kayla?”

She gave me a scolding look and then picked up a piece of paper. “Look at it this way.” she held the paper horizontally. “If your universe only had length and width,” she put her finger on top of the paper, “then, if somebody added height and went upwards, they disappear from your two-dimensional reality. Follow me thus far?”

“I guess so.”

“Mr. Summerland found a way to access another dimension, hopefully, to allow him to travel from one spot to the next in the blink of an eye. However, instead, he ended up going into an alternate reality, another plane of existence.”

“Do you mean like another universe?”

“That’s possible. You can call them other universes, alternate realities, parallel worlds, or worlds of possibility. What you call it doesn’t matter; what does matter is that we can travel from here to the next one, and the next. Because we’re traveling to another plane of existence, we would no longer be bound by our time. That explains everything.”

“If you say so.”

“Now, if only I have the new controls properly calibrated. If I do, then we can go wherever we please and return any time we desire. We just need to create the singularity.”

“I have one question, Kayla.”

“Yes.”

“I think I understand what you’re saying about parallel worlds and such, but why did you insist on the work crew wearing only loincloths?”

My friend laughed uproariously at that. “Because I like to see muscle-bound, sweaty men walking around mostly naked. Easy access.”

“Perhaps if you hadn't spent the majority of your time bouncing up and down on their cocks, we’d be ready to go, by now.”

“That’s not all I’ve done,” she blushed. “I also redesigned your father's plans to create the Argo, refined his primitive, spartan controls, so we can calibrate settings, and reworked the steamers so that they’ll run more efficiently, giving us unprecedented power. Your Phlebotinum discovery made it all possible. I also invented a few things that should help us.”

“Do you ever sleep? I know. Dad made you here in the lab; you’re a robot.”

Chuckaboo took that moment to make his grand entrance. A tube-covered brass ball in his mouth, prehensile tail wagging, he walked in on his hind legs, balancing the ball on his nose. Seeing us, he chattered his greeting warbles and made a running jump onto the top of the littered desk, sending papers flying.

“We’ll be ready to go in the morning, Chuck,” Kayla said.

He nuzzled her hand, a half-purr, half-growl resonating through him. He helped himself to some nutty brittle, Turkish Delight.

“Don’t eat too many sweets, Chuck. Your stomach will hurt, again.”

He looked at her, grumbled a bit, stuck out his serpentine tongue, and went back to munching on sweets. One of the workers, the foreman, clad in leather boots and a low-hanging loincloth, entered the laboratory. His heels clicked on the floor as he walked the long distance, eyes growing as wide as saucers when he saw Kayla sitting there in the nude. She smiled and waved, beckoning him to approach.

“Miss Jenkins,” he said, averting his eyes for the sake of modesty, although his manhood reacted. “We’re finally finished. Your Argo is built as strong as we could make it, all according to your specifications.”

“Let’s go have a look, shall we?” Kayla said, jumping up. She walked over to the workshop foreman and grabbed his meat through his loincloth. “Keep that hard for me and I’ll drain your cum for a bonus.”

She looked at me and shrugged. "What, Ariel? If I miscalculated or we didn't build the Argo, correctly, this could be the last night we're alive. We might as well enjoy it, just in case."

The four of us, counting Chuckaboo, traversed the distance of the warehouse-sized lab, entering the workshop. While I’d peeked at the progress now and then, I had quickly grown bored and concentrated on preparing for the journey that lay ahead. The last time I’d checked, the Argo was just multiple piles of wires, parts, and metal sheeting. What I saw dumbfounded me.

The new, larger Contraption, the Argo, was a far cry from the confining, metal box of the prototype. Gleaming brass, steel, and copper polished to an almost mirror-like gloss, enshrouded the entire vessel. Front and rear wagon wheels, bound together with drive shafts, their central gearboxes covered with ornate steel, added some form of mobility. The original had no means of ambulance. Dual front windows slanted backward for a wide field of view, roses and birds etched along the edges.

The Argo was massive, at least six times larger than the original. The door was open, held aloft by dual pistons, with padded stairs folded down to allow easy entry. The front cabin was much more luxurious than the spartan original. The walls were padded in quilted, white cloth, and a small door in the center of the rear wall led to a cargo and storage area. What gave me cause to pause and stare was the control panel and cockpit.

The Contraption merely had two brass levers with random lines marked on either side for reference. In theory, slamming both levers all the way back should have allowed me to return home. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case; I spent nearly a year lost in the worlds of possibility. The Argo was the polar opposite of the original. Multiple geared wheels with locking nuts, nearly a dozen levers, all sorts of switches and valves, and myriad gizmos of unknown function occupied the space directly behind the viewing windows. The complexity baffled both the eye and the mind.

Instead of a single, quarter-round bench, there were two bucket seats, heavily padded, with a Chuckaboo-sized, padded box for him. Various tools and weaponry lined the wall opposite the entryway and more racks of various items were on the roof’s interior.

“Impressive,” I observed.

Instead of a response, I only heard, “Mmmph, glock, slurp, mnnng,” from Kayla. Looking at her, she had dropped to her knees and taken the foreman’s cock into her mouth. Her head was pumping back and forth, swallowing all of his impressive meat. Shrugging, I decided that a serious conversation would need to wait. I knelt beside her and reached out, fondling his ball sack, making him moan.

“That’s it,” I told him. “Fuck her face.” I reached out with my other hand and, gripping Kayla’s head by her hair, forced her mouth over his cock harder and deeper. I heard her gagging, but she grabbed his muscular ass and forced his manhood deeper down her throat.

I could feel his balls churning in my caressing hand; his moans let me know that he was nearing orgasm.

“I’m going to cum, Ma’am,” he groaned.

“Cum in her mouth; shoot it on her face, so I can lick it off,” I pled.

Kayla was lost in her lusty debauchery, moaning and grunting while she worked his cock. I watched him as his face turned crimson, his entire torso tightening up with pleasure. His muscles were more than arousing. His impassioned, guttural exclamations were timed with the jizz shooting from his cock. Kayla attempted to swallow the first few blasts, but some of the cum escaped her lips, dripping down her chin. His last few spurts landed on her face as he pulled out, my hand still fondling his testes.

As promised, I quickly shifted positions and began licking his salty semen from her face. We ended up in a cum-sharing kiss, our arms embracing one another. By the time I’d cleaned my best friend’s face, properly, the entire work crew had surrounded us. Hard cocks tented loincloths, and we were ringed by lusty, muscle-bound men.

“Don’t just stand there! Feed me your cocks. Sexual bonuses for everyone.”

Gruff but non-threatening hands pulled us apart and laid us down on the hard, stony floor. I soon had a cock buried in my pussy, one in my mouth, and my hands on others as I gave in to the zeal of passion.

The man hammering my pussy with his large, thick cock was called Sven. He was a brute, all strength and muscle, but with a charming smile and a massive shock of blond hair. His calloused hands gripped my thighs and pushed them up to rest on his shoulders as he plunged his thickness into me, making me scream in delight.

My lust-fueled moans and grunts vibrated on the cock fucking my mouth, its owner’s face grimacing in pleasure. I tugged on dual penises, both hands pumping their shafts with wild, horny abandon. Sven pulled out and shot his load all over my body, instantly replaced by another, eager worker.

I drank cum, felt it spew all over my bouncing tits, and moaned and screamed as multiple men pleasured me.

“Spank me while you fuck me with your big, hard cock,” I heard from beside me.

Kayla was involved with her own multiple-man pleasuring. Just as I looked over, two men shot their wads all over her face. The sight of her wanton display combined with all the cocks jizzing in me, on me, and blasting my mouth set off an intense orgasm. Letting the manhood in my mouth slip out, I screamed, “Fuck me harder; I’m cumming,” as my entire body caught horny fire and I slipped away, surrendering to rapture.

When it was all done, my assistant and I had drained all fourteen of the work crew at least once. They left with full pockets and empty balls. Kayla and I, still nude and covered in cum, went over the fine details of our impending journey. Soon, we’d be traveling to worlds unknown in search of my father.

“How long is the journey between worlds,” Kayla asked me as we finally settled into bed. We were both exhausted, sated, and excited about tomorrow’s pending adventure.

“Forever. It takes forever. I thought I’d go insane after the first trip. Luckily, I found Chuckaboo, or, rather, he found me, and his presence gave me a sense of time and structure.”

“Ah,” she mused, her hand idly stroking my cum-encrusted thigh, “that makes logical sense.”

“It does? How?”

She adopted her “lecturer” tone. “We’ve already established time doesn’t flow the same, if at all, once we leave this plane of existence. I think it has something to do with us being out of that particular time flow. While you’re in the matrix, which is what your father called it—the space between worlds—there is simply no time. That means that the change between worlds takes no time, or all time, depending on one’s point of view.”

“Whatever, just give me something to do. You know I prefer action to intellectual masturbation.”

“Good night, lover.”

Kayla was, as always, up before the sun. I, as usual, slept until much later in the morning. Awakening to Chuckaboo, all eager enthusiasm, poking me with his clawed paws and nuzzling my face, I stretched my nubile, fit body and pondered what I’d wear for my foray into the great unknown.

“Calm down, Chuckaboo. I’ll feed you soon.”

The serendipitous discovery of a hearty breakfast, albeit cold, was most welcome. I broke my fast and decided that leather breeches and a sensible top, one that showed some cleavage, would be apropos. Some stylish but sturdy boots, although frowned upon by polite society, and a nice, matching sash should do well. Since I liked them, I decided that I’d also wear a bust-enhancing bodice. Kayla came into the dining room as I was eating. She was glowing with anticipation and dancing about as if she hadn't a care in the world.

“My, aren’t we just the enthuzimuzzy,” I chided.

“Of course,” she replied while she grabbed various items and packed them into a wooden crate. “We’re about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime.”

“You’re not going to wear that formal dress, are you? I’ve been through this, and you’ll want to dress for anything.”

“Well, no petticoats, but I do want to present myself as a proper lady to whomever we meet.”

“Aren’t you eating this morning?”

“I’m a bit of an orph chump, today. Too excited, no appetite.”

After breakfast, I washed off the cum and grime from the previous day and dressed in my gas-pipes. While pants, other than the garish pantaloons, were not ladies’ attire, this wasn’t my first dance into the worlds of possibility. I’d be more than a little poked up by the embarrassment of tripping over my skirts once more. It happened before, during a duel of sorts, and it nearly cost me my life.

Kayla busied herself with stowing nearly the entire contents of both the house and lab into the confines of the Argo’s back storage bay. Food, clothing, scientific devices of every ilk, and myriad tools and other sundries were stashed and tied down. Chuckaboo dragged his bags of food and snacks inside, as well. Chirping away, he then went and retrieved his favorite ball and plopped it into his crate. Bidding adieu to the estate, we made ready to leave.

“This gimbal,” Kayla gestured at the incomprehensible control panel, “should stay zeroed in on our home plane. The problem with the controls of the prototype Contraption was that it wasn’t calibrated, hence why you were lost for so long. I achieved a singularity for us, earlier this morning. We should be able to insert this card,” she held up a thin, metal sheet with rectangular holes punched through it in a seemingly random pattern, “and come right back to the here and now, unless…” she paused.

“Unless?” I knew that look all too well.

“Unless there can be only one singularity, which I doubt. If there can be only one per plane of existence, then we’ll either return around the moment you made your first journey or when your father made his first one.” She paused once more.

“Or,” Kayla continued, her dark hair bouncing as she nodded vigorously. “It could be that only one singularity per machine signature is permissible. If that’s the case, then your father’s Contraption will have its own and our Argo will either have its own or share the one from the prototype because I used the same gearing and power couplings. Either way, we have nothing to worry about.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Lock your arsenal into place, up there,” she pointed to the clamps to store weaponry and such. “Time for us to go. To infinity and beyond!”

I laughed as she made some adjustments to several valves, dials, switches, and levers and then slammed her palm down on the central, red button. Nothing happened.

“Shouldn’t the universe disintegrate right about now?”

“Wait. Three, two, one, go-time.”

That acrid smell of sulfur coupled with cheap cologne hit my nostrils a moment before nausea overtook me. The Argo rocked, bobbed, and shimmied, all sound, reality, and time fleeing the cockpit. Then, nothing but darkness could be seen outside the windows. We were in the infinite void, that ethereal plane that interconnects all possible realities.

“A total lack of time and space,” Kayla exuberantly spouted. She popped open a compartment near my side of the dashboard and pulled out a notepad and ink pen, hastily scrawling.

“Well,” I said nonchalantly, “this is our home for eternity. Did you choose a specific destination?”

“Based on your notes, we should be arriving at Volcano World, so we can pick up some spare Phlebontinum, just in case.”

“Did I mention the fire demons that inhabit that place?”

“Elementals, my dear Ariel, Elementals.”

“Do you think we’ll ever find my father?”

“Given that we basically have all eternity, we should, or, at least, have a grand adventure trying. Have faith in the science.”

I looked inside the compartment she’d left open and spied the clockwork dildo. “At least you thought to pack some toys. I wonder if the clock spring will stay wound for infinity. There’s only one way to find out.”

“Not just yet,” Kayla corrected. “You need to learn the controls. First off, do you know how this all works?”

I scanned the jumbles of controls. A frosted glass plate was mounted on the far right side. The rest of the control panel was a clutter of unlabeled and unknown gizmos. Except for the two brass levers coming up through the floor in the center of the control area, I had no clue as to the function or purpose of anything else. Those two levers more than likely controlled the external drive wheels.

“These two control the movement of the Argo. I don’t have a clue about anything else.”

“No, Ariel. Do you know how the worlds of possibility work?”

“I have no clue.”

“Don’t be such a coot; you need to know. The short version is that every conceivable possible reality probably exists out there, somewhere. Your father’s invention, his contraption, our old prototype, and our new Argo, slip through the fabric of our reality and land in a new one. A brave new world to explore.“

“I knew that.”

“These controls simply record the settings for the Possibility Drive. These gears here have a thousand teeth each.” She gestured at three rows of eight gears each. “That gives us roughly three-octillion possible combinations, more if we recalibrate. Plus, we have the original controls I commandeered from the Contraption and the key card settings.”

“Where are the original controls? I think I got the hang of them on my first journey.”

“Pull the brass handle in front of you.”

I did and was pleasantly surprised to discover what she had done. The narrow drawer expanded outward like accordion bellows as I pulled on the ornate, brass handle. The original control panel, two brass levers mounted into a dark wood panel, had been cut into small strips and hinged together. The controls unfolded, becoming flat and level right in front of me. It was, indeed, the original controls but with the addition of some silvered marker lines.

“What are these new lines?”

“The bottom silver ones should be our baseline, the ones that will bring us back to where and when we started. The others should mark some of the worlds you detailed in your notes, or close enough that they’ll be congruent.” She pointed to them in turn. “Here we have professor Summerland’s lab; this one is the tropical version of our world; Volcano World is the next one up; and, this fourth one is the medieval version of our reality where you rescued the waylaid nobleman; this last one is probably the Winged World where your controls got out of alignment.”

“One question about the single-polarity thing you talked about.”

“Singularity.”

“Whatever. If we end up going back to my first journey, does that mean that I’ll have to duel that drunk at the Brass Goggles again? Won’t we already be there? Are we required to do exactly the same things all over? If we arrive before we built the Argo, will it still exist?”

“That was four questions. Time doesn’t work like that,” she instructed. “While our feeble, human minds can only think of time flowing in one direction, like an arrow flies, that isn’t the case. It’s a fluid, like all of reality, that we can swim about in, at will. What we’ll have done is follow time’s flow for the past seventeen days, only to loop back around to the starting point. In our personal reality, you’d have already fought him, but will repeat that mobius loop, anew. Reality will warp to accommodate the fact that you’ve already fought him, but haven’t yet.”

“Well,” I mused, “if I have to duel with him, again, I’m going to cut off his belt when he trips on the stairs, so his pants fall down.”

Kayla laughed at that. “Leave it to you to think of flashy fencing tricks when we’re discussing the eddies in the time currents.”

“He is?”

“He is what? Who?”

“Eddie. He’s in the time currents, you said. How did he get there?”

“I know you’re the bricky adventurer, and I’m the brains, but wow, Ariel, just wow. Let me show you how these controls work.”

Due to the complexity of the brass and metal gears, cranks, buttons, and levers, it took forever for me to have the slightest inclination of how to work them. I was quite fortunate, as that’s the exact amount of time we had. Chuckaboo, our furry companion and honorary mascot, became our timepiece.

While Kayla and I mused, conversed, ate, and slept, intermittently, Chuckaboo had a regular cycle, seemingly nonplussed by being wrenched out of space and time. For all we could tell, he was immune to the effects of lacking corporeal reality and time. He’d sleep, wake, eat, play, and cuddle just as if we were out camping or at home. We began counting time in Chuckaboo sleep cycles, which was eventually truncated to Chuck Cycles, then C-cycles. It took nearly forty C-cycles for me to get the basics of the control panel down.

Our idle time was spent experimenting, keeping track of our rations, and otherwise staying busy. Lots of intimate sex occurred every cycle. Regretfully, repeated experimentation proved that the clockwork dildo did need to be rewound.

To be continued…