Disclaimer:
All characters portrayed engaging in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older. Actual historical figures or living people represented are done strictly for context and humour, I lay no claim to them. As always, critiques and reviews all welcome, illiterate flames will be snickered at. Enjoy!
Chapter 1- Give A Monkey A Gun...
Mark sat in the chair in his bedroom by his computer desk, trying to look chastised, but he was worried that a tiny hint of an evil smirk was crossing his lips. He hung his head in the hopes it would be less noticeable. Standing in the room with him were two stone-faced men in black suits and dark glasses. They stared at him silently for several minutes before glancing at one another. Finally, the shorter one sighed.
"Okay, Mark," he said heavily. "Once more, from the top. I want you to give us as detailed an account of what happened as you possibly can. Leave nothing out."
"Everything?" Mark asked quietly.
"Everything."
"Well, as long as you think you have the time." Mark quipped, sitting up straight and leaning back in his chair somewhat casually.
The tall man frowned. "Was that a joke?"
"Not a very good one, apparently," Mark muttered.
"Stick to the facts," the man said firmly. "We hate jokes."
"No kidding," Mark mused, settling in to relay the events he had already explained to them twice that evening. "Alright, let me start at the beginning."
"Not funny, young man..." growled the shorter agent.
"I found the thing in the park. What did you say it's called?" Mark asked.
"A Holmes Field Device."
"Right," Mark agreed, nodding. "I found the Holmes Field Device in the large lilac bushes over in Grosvenor Park."
"Why were you in the bushes?" interrupted the tall man.
Mark gave him a wry look. "I was making a drug deal. I was supplying uranium to Libyan terrorists. I was hiding the body of a transvestite hooker I killed. What does it matter? It's not your worry or jusrisdiction, if you're telling me the truth, is it?"
"Fair enough," said the shorter agent amicably. "Please proceed, Mark."
Mark nodded. "It was really small and compact at first and I didn't know what it was. But it kinda gave off a hum and it almost had a glow, I dunno. I pulled it out of the bushes and over to a secluded area where there was still some light from nearby lamps. Anyway, I must've tripped a catch or something on it, because the thing folded out on itself into what looked like a platform and grew these weird-ass frames with displays and dials and buttons and shit. It was like something out of Star Trek."
"I can see how it might appear advanced to you," the shorter agent said, nodding. "To my partner and I, it's rather primitive, but that's not your problem. Please proceed."
"Once I was sure that no one was around or likely to come through, I began fiddling around the the dials," Mark continued. "At first I was confused, because it didn't seem to do much, except spit up weird numbers on the analogue screens, but then I thought about it and realized they were dates. They were just... off."
"Not off," the shorter man said. "Just dates set by a different calendar, if you will. The Holmes Field Device was developed by Ashleigh Holmes, the younger brother of the more famous Sherlock and Mycroft, but he was perhaps even more brilliant. He modified the Gregorian calendar to account for leap years and Daylight Savings, changed the accounting of seconds, minutes, hours and so on to eliminate the need for such inconsistencies. The Holmes Calendar will be adopted eighty three years in your future, but it is so accurate that it won't need to be modfied until the year 12,645 AD."
"Huh." Mark said in response, not caring much.
"Oh, and he also invented the temporal displacement device you found," the man added. "Although it'll be another two hundred and eight years before that comes to light."
"Anyways," Mark continued, killing the history lesson. "Once I figured out they were dates and times, I tried setting the time back a few hours. After that, I started pushing some buttons. Things got blurry for just a split second and then the sun was blinding me. I was still alone, but I stepped off and looked around, still in the same spot, but obviously at a different time of day. I looked at the clock on my cellphone and it seemed to have adjusted to say it was six hours earlier, just like I'd set the dials."
"Your phone adjusted accordingly. Electronics will do that."
"I was really excited to look around but realized I didn't want to be caught and I suddenly thought I should be careful."
"What a novel idea," the tall man said dryly. "Go on."
"Well, I went back to the Holmes Field thing and set it to take me back to the time I'd come from. And it did. Then I began thinking about what sort of things I might be able to do if I was careful."
"And this is where it got interesting, yes?" the shorter agent remarked.
Mark nodded. "Maybe I could change things. Not big things, but little things. It suddenly occurred to me the D that Miss Fischer gave me on my Physics exam earlier in the semester had kept me from getting into the university of choice I'd applied to. So I decided to see if I could fix that somehow..."
***
Mark crept through the bushes under the cover of dark, oddly certain than no one was going to see him. He couldn't explain why, but he felt a confidence that he would not be discovered because he hadn't been there before. It didn't make sense, but maybe that was a good thing.
He knew where Miss Fischer lived, he'd seen her pull into the small, stand alone house in her Rav4 on many occasions. He slipped onto her property through her back yard, instrinctively knowing that her rear door would be unlocked. It was already ten o'clock, but there was no school the next day so she was still likely to be up.
A stick snapped in the yard one lot ever. His head snapped around to see if he'd been spotted, but he didn't see anything. A dog began barking. Stupid animal scared the shit out of him.
He moved quietly across the lawn to the back door, opened it slowly and found himself in a small kitchen. It was darkexcept for a small night-light and he paused, listening for movment, hearing no one nearby. He stared in bewilderment at the sheer amount of organic cereals and grains that lined the counters around the room, along with fresh fruits and other nutritious snacks. No wonder she always seemed so perky, even if she was shy and retiring.
Beyond the kitchen, he could see the living room and small dining room were still lit. He padded across the linoleum floor silently, hearing nothing. He peeked into the dining room and through it into the living room.
No one. There was a yoga mat on the floor in front of the long, flat-screen TV. The decor consisted of low tables and beanbag chairs others. Damn, this woman was crunchy...
He heard water running upstairs and some off-key singing. He crept up the steps to the second floor, preparing himself for what would no doubt be an awkward situation, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he
needed
to do this, whether he liked it or not. There was a shower happening and he now recognized Miss Fischer's voice. She seemed to be alone and her vehicle had been standing by itself in the driveway. If she was already showering, she wasn't going out again.
Mark approached the bathroom, noticing the door was wide open. He guessed that made sense, since Miss Fishcer had told the class more than once that she lived lamentably alone. She took the teasing from her students good-naturedly, but now he could confirm it. She was a bachelorette.
She was singing and he could hear the shower water splashing off her body as he hid beside the door. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, calming his nerves before subtly peeking around the door and into the bathroom...
There was no tub, just a walk-in shower. His eyes went wide when he realized that she shower stall was composed of fog and steam-proof glass, giving him an almost completely uninterrupted view of the activities within. Except for the droplets of water that trickled down the treated glass panes, he could see his teacher in all her naked glory. Miss Fischer was facing away from him, running her fingers through her long, wet blonde hair, swaying her body back and forth, her amazing ass glistening wetly.
He turned out her rather painful singing of a Beyonce song and let his gaze travel up and down her womanly form. His heart thundered in his chest, to the place where he was worried she might hear it. Miss Fischer always dressed rather modestly at school and he was shocked to see what a rockin' bod she had. Clearly she hadn't been lying about the yoga and the crossfit she claimed to do.
Her skin was fair, but not pale. Her shapely back tucked into a small waist, which in turn blossomed out into fit hips which were anchored by her amazing ass. Her long legs tapered down to tiny ankles. If he hadn't been so astonished and exhilarated, he would have had a massive hard-on by now.
"C'mon, turn around..."
he found himself urging her silently.
Miss Fischer obliged and Mark thought he might faint. She'd always been pretty, of course, but Mark doubt that anyone at school would have guessed what a sex-pot their Physics teacher was. Where the hell had she been keeping those tits?! Did she fucking strap them down? They were large, yet perky. The tiny pink nipples sat atop them proudly, announcing the arrival of their mistress right behind them. Her stomach was flat, but still soft, begging to be kissed. He forced himself to look lower and saw that her pussy was shaved except for the small strip of trimmed hair above. The netherlips were even and not quite plump, but still dismissed any worries of a bony thigh-gap. Her clit hood barely peeked out over the top.
"Fucking fuck..."
he thought, his mind racing.