The Discount Time Machine

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE; THE STORY BEGS YOUR INDULGENCE TO SUSPEND DISBELIEF AND HAVE FAITH IN BORDERLINE SCIENCE.]

[A no account son takes a ruthless tour of the past to find meaning and purpose to his current life; only one thing, he has to avoid the ultimate temptation.]

Okay, I admit it. I was less than successful in life...up until the machine. Let me explain.

My name is James, I was 40, and at that point, I had already wasted four years (college), two years (marriage), five years (part time jobs, or no jobs), etc. etc. Not a proud litany of success. After losing my last job, as night watchman, for sleeping on said job, I had to return to my parent's home. My mother, Sue, was 60 by then. She had been a widow for some 10 years. She lived in one of those (creepy?) 55 and over subdivisions. One thing (and only one thing) I could say for them: man, they were quiet! I loved quiet.

My mom was so happy to have a companion in the home again that she did not give me the 'treatment' about being a homeless ragamuffin at my age. The guest room was mine. My few worldly possessions were moved in inside of two hours, and I was 'home'. The first shock came at 11pm. Mom was 60 and went to bed at 11 sharp. I was sitting up in my bed watching the evening news. To my amazement, mom came into my room (without knocking) wearing the same nightgown she had worn years ago. It was a simple little thing that covered up her top side totally. However, it only went down a few inches below what on a younger woman I would call (rudely) her pussy. As a result, my 60 year old mom padded in on bare, smooth feet, her nails still shining under coats of red lacquer. If you didn't look too closely (yes, there were some veins here and there), her legs were as shapely and sexy as they'd ever been.

Wordlessly, my still beautiful mom came up to me. She straightened my wavy hair, bent over and whispered: "I am so happy to have you back home. I don't care what brought it about. I know that things will get better for you. I cannot tell you how much I missed you...longed for you. Even when daddy was still with me, many times I thought of you when I....well, goodnight sweetheart." With that, mom gave me the longest 'innocent' good night kiss any boy was lucky enough to receive. It lasted so long, and contained within it so much meaning, that I hoped mom didn't notice my growing 'interest in her' under the covers.

What happened next would blow my mind. As my 60 year old mom (grey/blond hair blend, still with plump firm breasts and a reasonable figure, not to mention her still fantastic legs) turned to leave, she saw the big twitch of my cock underneath the covers. My jaw dropped in amazement as my conservative quiet mom leaned over and put her mature, matronly hand over that outline in the blanket. Then, she outlined the extent of my manhood, top to bottom, with that hand. As she continually tried to outline it by putting the blanket around it, it of course got longer and longer. She then looked at me. She said, "Jimmy, I want you to feel totally comfortable and happy here. I think that this one act will prove to you that I'm committed to that." With that, she threw back the covers, took my proud 10 inch cock (the only thing I had any reason to be proud of) and continued her manual assault on it.

She sat on the bed, one mature hand cupping my testes, now swollen and heavy with seed, about the size and weight of two peaches. The other motherly hand was going up and down my shaft at an amazing rate (for a quiet 60 year old matron). At a certain point, my eyes closed, head fell back, and all I could do was murmur: "Mom, mom, oh MOM!!" With that, to my even greater surprise, mom bent over and placed her 60 year old ruby lipstick surrounded mouth over my rapidly swelling uncut cockhead. That was all I could stand. I gently put my hands on mom's grey/blond blended head and applied the slightest of pressure down towards that erupting volcano. My huge virile cock erupted with an enormous spend, the geyser sending an immense ribbon of sperm into her waiting maw. I had enough control to wait...there...that sexy, re-assuring sound of gulp as mom swallowed. I then cut loose another huge rope. Gulp and swallow. I did that a total of six times. Mom swallowed every single spermatozoon. In a way, they were all wasted, but at least they went to a nice home.

I wiped mom's mouth, still in utter shock. Lovingly, I removed mom's conservative frock, pushing the nude 60 year old mother of mine into the pullout guest bed I lived in. My 10 inch cock was re-charged immediately by the presence of my still beautiful mother. I pushed her onto her back and dropped my heavy cock onto her still black forest above the entrance to her place of wonder. Mom's thick forest 'down there' really re-charged my batteries as we kissed tenderly. I asked, to be certain: "Mom, can I, well you know, make love to you?"

Mom said: "God, Jimmy, it's been so many years. And not just since his passing; I'm afraid your father had some problems in this area that had persisted for 25 years, even when you were conceived. Up until this day, seeing you and that log, that beautiful long manly penis of yours, I never knew he was small and inadequate, or that you were so much more of a man than he was. Cupping your wondrous jewels, feeling their power, tasting the oceans of seed they contained, I only then knew what a virile man was, what a potent man could produce from his equipment. Looking back, it truly was a miracle that I had you at all."

Mom fidgeted and then moaned in pleasure as my 10 inch long love pole tapped gently at her back walls and curled slightly to touch and caress her cervix, enveloping her womb. At the crucial moment, I asked her if I should pull out.

Mom, with tears in her eyes, said: "Jimmy, lord I wish there was still a reason for you to worry. I'm afraid you're too late. I'm ashamed to say, as your very own mother, but just between the two of us, my fondest wish would be that I could give you a child."

I bent down and kissed her lips. My cockhead swelled, the tiny slit expanded to the size of a Magic Marker, and I just coated mom's womb with buckets of my sperm laden semen. The excess started overflowing around my cock almost immediately. I pulled out with a audible 'pop', then drip, drip, seep, drip, drop.

I fell asleep, flat on my back, the covers off, my cock still rigid and about 9 of its normal 10 inches in length. Mom laid beside me, equally played out, a tiny thick white waterfall dripping from her cherished passion pit. My excess seed would continue to leak out until morning. The next morning I had morning wood. Mom tried to get up to make breakfast, but instead I gently pushed her down back on her bum and jetted my 'overnight' excitement deep inside of her. I brushed my lips tenderly against her ruby lips. We shared words of love and endearment.

The Machine:

Although we lived in a development, on our block were only two homes. They call them 'orphan' homes because the builder made these two model homes and then ran out of money. No other homes in the subdivision were as nice as these homes. In the other home was a weird old man, about 75, named Lucretius. Every night, when the sun set, you could see the sparks flying as he was building something. And this went on, according to mom, for some 16 years!

Well, curiosity killed the cat, they say, but I just HAD to know what was going on. So, one day I gathered my courage and went over there.

His home was a model just like ours. But, whereas mom had all the frilly touches, in pastels, for a conventional home, he had virtually no furniture, no paintings, and only the most minimum of kitchen appliances. Everything seemed centered around the power cords, work benches, and work areas in his living room. At the center of it was what looked like one of the advanced walking exercycle machines from a health club. Instead of a track were just two insert holes for your feet, above that a seat, and in front of that a control panel. Lucretius was right out of a 1950's cheap sci-fi picture, with wild white hair, a pallid complexion, and a mildly stooped posture. He could not get out more than 5 words in a row without coughing.

He said that the crowning achievement of his life was just about ready, and he would tell me all about it just before he left, for good. He said he didn't want to leave mysteriously and have no one ever know what happened.

The machine was a time machine. I understood virtually none of the physics, but he mentioned tachyons, faster than light thresholds, curved space, subtending arc space travel, etc. For once in my life, I wished I had read that book by Stephen Hawking. When he saw me looking rather blankly, he gave up on the why and just told me the what. He said the machine was radio-isotope powered, that it could go back in time to any place or time, but only reliably for one hour. More than that and there'd be a risk of non-return, so it had a timer. So far, he had tested it once (he showed me a Chicago Cubs World Series ticket, crisp and new! Now that would prove time travel to anyone...it must have been from circa 1909.) Once he was finished telling me his legacy for our current time, he would make a final trip to a time of his choosing. He was not returning. He prepared his things to leave, including a note to whoever found him, re-iterating his machine and its actual functioning. He asked me if I was living with my mom next door, if I had moved back in with her.

I said: "Yes, I moved back home. I must say, she welcomed me home as if I had never left."

Lucretius, the wild haired old man, stooped but wise, looked me over. He said, "You know, if you ever had a machine like this, you would probably make a fortune in the stock market, betting on the Super Bowl, maybe even correcting some wrongs in history (hopefully!) But, then you would be drawn to the ultimate temptation in time travel. There are religious and legal laws against it...they are the law not just to be cruel or harsh...don't fall to that temptation, the ultimate one, or you will not only change history, you will undo YOUR history. I hope you understand what I'm saying to you. Of course, it's all moot, because I will be leaving with the machine in 10 minutes."

Everything that followed hereafter was due to the eccentric vanity of this crazy inventor. He should have gone when the going was good. Instead, he updated his website with a farewell (he had about 1,000 loyal adherents, though none of them had met him or knew where he lived or even his actual name.) He very weakly shook my hand and turned to mount the machine, the instructions in his hand (at his age, he no longer trusted his memory.) He motioned for me to help him up and begged for me to take him home, with the machine, if I had to do it for him. You can imagine my fear as I followed the instructions. All of a sudden, the room disappeared and we emerged in a thick, dark forest in Eastern Europe. A little home was there, a thin plume of smoke emanating from a tall chimney. As I carried his frail now lifeless body towards the home, I noticed that people were inside. I was 99% sure that these were his family predecessors and that he would be in good hands with them. I carefully put him on the stairs to the cottage, stroked his cheek briefly, and ran back to the machine. I used the return command and the much simpler process of return worked. I was back, if severely shaken by the experience.

I knew I wouldn't get a Merit Badge from the Boy Scouts for my next actions, but I was thinking of myself. I went to the big home improvement place and got a dolly; I wheeled that machine and all its notes over to our workshed at about 5 am one night. Not even mom noticed that, and she slept in my bed now.

A Greek philosopher once posed the question: if you could be invisible, what would be the moral thing to do with that power. Of course, your mind could run rampant, from being a peeping tom (sadly my 1st choice) to 'borrowing things' (ok, stealing). The answer to that question, in the end, was: it would only be moral to do nothing.

Now I was faced with a real derivative of that question. I had time at my beck and call. What would I do with it? It would be nice if I went back and planted blue bells along Texas highways, or other nice things. Well, the 1st thing I did was look at the Wall Street Journal, empty mom's bank account (now jointly held with yours truly) and go back just one year. Buying gold futures and shorting a particular oil stock's options, I tripled our money in just four one hour visits.

Mom had received $500,000 upon her husband's passing, so now we were up to almost $1.5m. I told myself that was it (!) as to exploiting...now to do a little good here and there. I bought an encyclopedia and put it by the machine so that when I returned I could see how history had changed. I was by no means certain of what would happen.

My first trip was easy to guess. I would go back to Ford's Theatre and that fated performance of "Our American Cousin" in 1865. Luckily, history had recorded the time, so my hour would safely encase it. Because the machine followed you into time, you had to guess as to where there'd be someplace to set down and lay low until the crucial moment. In my case, I passed the guard and went into the box, closing the door. The president and 1st lady turned in surprise at me. Just then the door burst open and a shaking hand pushed forward holding a gun. I grabbed that with all of my might, seizing the gun. The assailant (Booth, of course) bounced off the president, hit the railing and fell over head first as the audience shrieked. The first family, stunned, stared at me as I zoomed out, jumping down the back stairs, and hitting the return button on the time machine, covered in a moldy horse blanket in the alley.

The encyclopedia had changed upon my return. It was amazing, and I was dazzled. The story told about the altercation at Ford's Theatre, the investigation that found the Booth conspiracy. It also told about the gentle treatment the south received upon its return (no 'radical reconstruction'), but also the slow but sure passage of laws leading to justice for all in the South, almost 100 years before the civil rights act of 1964.

Every night I would return to the warmth, the tenderness, the welcome that my mom offered me in bed. Making love to my still beautiful mother was a strange but wonderful counterweight to the things I was attempting to do in history. The ironic thing was, if some of history was changing, then all of it had to change, and that 'mother of mine' could not possibly be the exact same as my 'real' mom.

There were so many things in history that I wanted to change. I decided that I would go back five more times...that to do more than that risked changing history to the point where I lost all references.

I went back in time and sabotaged the car that was to carry the archduke Ferdinand when he was assassinated. This led to World War One, the communist takeover in Russia, the Nazi and fascist revolutions in Germany and Italy resp. It was the most important pivot in time...with no car, they couldn't possibly get him.

Upon my return, I read that he had gotten a smaller convertible and the assassins still succeeded...I had failed. I would have to go back.

I went to the German army group center command outside Moscow in 1943. I knew (from reading) that a plot by Count von Schlabrendorff had a brave volunteer with a grenade ready to hug the visiting leader, one Adolf Hitler. I did not speak German and couldn't learn it in time, but from the web and an old friend on the web, I made a note using British military headings indicating that the allies would immediately accept peace with Germany with a treaty separate from Russia—if they succeeded in removing the Fuehrer. With that support, the commander at the post (Kluge) gave the go-ahead, and the brave officer and Hitler were blown sky high. I wasn't there to see the beauty of that, but did read about it upon my return. The war ended soon after, the Holocaust of Jews, gypsies, and Russians were reduced by 90%. The post-war world did not have the Russians occupying Eastern Europe either, as their armies did not need to fight their way to Berlin.

This one history excursion was the most productive I would have made, for the world's sake at least. I took two more trips, dropping off the procedures for isolating annual influenza 'bugs' to the hands of the US Army in 1917 (it did no good, I am afraid, as they didn't have the infrastructure to use it to conquer the 1918 flu, the greatest worldwide epidemic ever). The other trip was to the University of Pittsburgh. I went there in 1945, giving them the complete notes from the 1960 summation of success over fighting polio; I was hoping to give them a head-start. As it turned out, the wondrous and miraculous cure was found by them again, but again it was found by Jonas Salk and his team in the exact same year as before...

Now I went from the sublime to the ridiculous. Lucretius had looked at me warily, surmising (correctly) that if I was given the power (as I now had); I might well use the machine for my own selfish designs. Well, true enough, I had made a quick million with it, but no one lost anything due to that (they had invested, gambled, in the opposite direction, their call...) I had finished changing history. Henry Ford said that "history was bunk." I wondered if he had had a time machine like me and had given up trying to fix the world. (OK, actually, he had naively tried to stop World War One, a valiant hope, if doomed.)

With the time machine in that shed gathering dust, I laid in bed with my mom, still gorgeous (to me at least) at 61. I had now had the pleasure, the honor, the ecstasy, of coming deeply inside of her every single night, expressing an undying love that could never have full expression. Holding her as she slept one night, noting the increasing triumph of her grey hair over her blond, I started thinking: wait, I have the time machine...you know I could go back and...

I remembered Lucretius' warning. He said do not do THAT (whatever 'that' was, that ultimate temptation). As my beautiful mom stirred in bed, I took the liberty to open her nightgown ever so slightly, and gently caress her nipples, throbbing fiercely from the cold, even in her sleep. His warning struck home that very moment.

Before he warned me about the ultimate temptation, he had asked me about some sounds he had heard from our house, sounds he had never heard before I arrived there. He had a devilish smile and knew the answer without my stammering response. It was then and only then that he said not to take the ultimate temptation. It must have been, "do not go back in time and make love to your much younger mom. It would destroy your personal time line." Holding my mom to me in the dark, he made a good point. But magnetism alone was drawing me to that shed, that machine. I had to go back...to see mom when she was even younger, more beautiful...before she had me. She had always related this story, in sharp detail down to the minute, about her honeymoon. Her new hubby (her 'old man', my father) was with her at Niagara Falls. He begged off taking the "Queen of the Mist" boat ride, to her disappointment. Walking about the hotel grounds, she was stunned to see him holding hands with one of his old flames. She said at that point, she stormed back to her room, BUT she pointedly said that if she had run into a man, ANY man, she would've dragged him back to that room and done whatever he wanted!

Now, truth be told, in the event, dad had run into an old friend, true, but she was on HER honeymoon, and the three of them came back to visit with mom, to her surprise and relief. However, I would use this time reference and the two hour gap to travel back and catch mom at her angriest.