Undoing

This is an entry in the ATF Story Writing Contest 2024/II. The story is posted by the organizer. The actual author of the story will remain anonymous until at least the end of the contest.

CHAPTER 1

A phone ringing roused Peter from worrying about his credit balance. Jasmine. The latest in a string of bad decisions that had led him into this mess. He had invested in the studio downstairs just before the Internet killed the porn video business. How could he have predicted that? Income had been so good that he decided to put some money in, improve the quality of his product. New lights and air conditioning to fight the heat they generate.

And then the new star, alleging to be 18 years old, named Jasmine. Peter could not claim ignorance to the fact that there was something off with her. Seeing the dread in her eyes when it was time to perform, he should have put a stop to it. But he knew that there would be an audience for such, and it had kept his company above the surface for a few years more – until every pervert in the world had access to all that and more for free.

Peter picked up the call. She wanted to borrow the studio for her OnlyFans stream. These days, there was a willingness to pay for naked skin again, but producers like Peter were left empty handed. For Jasmine, he was happy to help. She had known it too. She was already on her way over.

His relationship with her was peculiar. First, he had wanted her, but some instinct had stopped him from making a move. He was rewarded with her fresh reaction on tape. Despite her obvious fear and discomfort, she performed without complaint. It made him feel empathy for her, which he expressed by pairing her with the physically biggest male stars in rough scripts bordering on the sadistic. He knew his audience, the combination of tender feelings and ruthless acts aroused them as much as it did himself.

When, having found out about her work in adult entertainment, her parents kicked her out, he let her crash in his house. It was not out of sympathy; convinced then that she was underage, he was relieved that she faced the blame instead of him.

It had been a year since he last saw her. He had been told that nowadays she streamed some kind of new age sexual hocus pocus. He didn't mind. If she got views that way, good for her. Peter also appreciated that she paid attention to quality, using an actual studio.

First, he noticed tattoos on her face. Some occult symbols. He remembered how they had started to appear on her skin when they still made movies together. He had not liked it, it screwed his stories of ruined innocence, but he didn't have much to say on the matter. Most girls in the trade seemed to go through the ugly tattoo phase. By then his whole operation had been in its death throes anyway.

Jasmine had gained a little flesh on her bones, and there was new authority in her bearing. She spread a red cloth on the studio floor and drew a black curtain to the backdrop. Peter powered up the dimmers and aircon, painfully conscious of the spike it would make in his electricity bill. LED lighting would have solved those problems, but of course, just before it became usable, he had invested heavily in tungsten.

He looked on as the young woman took off her clothes and put on a robe that revealed her heavily tattooed body every time she moved. In a way he had made her like that.

“Right, Jasmine, I guess you want stark shadows?”
“The heavier the better. It's not that important what they can see. Just that nothing is hidden on purpose. Try a spot in here.”

She placed an ornamental wooden box on the cloth and opened it. There were dildos and plugs inside, but Peter's attention was captured by a knife and several long needles glimmering in the spotlight.

“You know, I wish I could change some things in the past.”

Jasmine set up a camera on a tripod and returned to her mark. Peering at a monitor, she moved the box so it didn´t obstruct the line of sight to her crotch.

“You have some regrets? That´s too bad. There is a rite that could help you.”
“A rite? My concerns are more concrete than regret. Or can you change the past?”
“You won´t know unless you try. Take that idol from the lighting desk and come here.”

Peter looked surprised at the object on top of the console. He had thought it was a paperweight or something, the usual clutter gathering around the workstation. It was roughly the shape and size of an egg, made of porous stone. There were carvings making it a sort of caricature of human form. Looking closer, it looked a little like him.

“Where did this come from?”
“I left it here when I stayed with you.”
“Really? Is there a hole somewhere to put needles in?”

Her look made him wipe the smile off his face. Jinxing him would probably have been a waste of effort for her.

“Strip naked and sit in front of me.”

In this studio there were many places to hang your clothes. Sitting down he blocked the main lights pointed at Jasmine, casting heavy shadows over her. Backlighting hit his eyes, but he knew not to look directly into the lamps.

Jasmine let the robe fall around her, closed her eyes and breathed deep. They sat facing each other for a while. She spoke so low that he could barely hear:

“Now you must give your essence to the idol. Cover it completely with your cum.”

Peter knew how to get hard and perform when needed. His male stars had always been ready at the beginning of a set. After shooting a load or two it became difficult. That´s when fluffers came handy.

He started by holding his penis and pulsing his pelvic floor muscles. He let his gaze wander across Jasmine´s body. One streak of light illuminated a nipple, another found a way to her belly. The tattoos were hidden in shadows. He could see her ribs, just like on the skinny girl years ago. He followed the stream of light down, finding no trace of pubic hair, and tried greedily to see her vulva.

Back then he had been very afraid realizing how young a girl he had in his studio, and simultaneously his dick had been hard and moist in his pants. He had acted professional then. There had been another man approaching the girl with a hardon.

Now Peter was free to stroke his cock. From the darkness masking her face, eyes glimmered as she opened them wide to stare at his groin. She moved restlessly and the shadows travelled on her skin, exposing only a little slice at a time. Peter felt like he was again in this same studio with the far too young and unexperienced girl, only this time there were no film crew or other performers. Aroused by her gaze, he stroked himself to climax, enclosing the little statue and his erupting cock head in his palm. He smeared the jizz on his hands all over the thing, making it slippery and dark with moisture. As Jasmine extended her hand to get it, he noticed the tattoos on her wrist and around her fingers.

She spread her legs wide, allowing a ray of light on her labia. Peter saw clearly how she slipped the idol into her vagina, then squirmed a little and fell on her back. For a minute he wondered if she could get pregnant from his semen now, but she had always been on the pill. And financially he was not a good candidate for a child support ruse.

More light hit her laying down. He could see the tattoos on her lush body and her dark, trimmed pubic hair. Her voice was pleading, almost pained:

“Take it away from me.”

Peter looked at her, not sure what to do. Her body shook violently.

“Peter! Take it out. Now.”

Tentatively he pushed a finger into her vagina. It was moist and slippery, but he could not find the egg. He tried with two fingers. There was something deep inside, but it was not as big as the idol had been. He felt her contracting her vaginal muscles, and spreading his fingers inside her, he soon had the object between them. He pulled it out of her and heard her sigh of relief.

Peter looked at the thing on his palm. Covered in vaginal fluids, it was a grey orb about the size of a pea. Jasmine sat up and put the robe back on.

“You must eat that. Now leave, I have work to do.”

Peter got up and into his clothes. He couldn´t understand how she had changed the stone egg into a little bead. If she did tricks like this on her OnlyFans, she would do well with the right audience.

He put the bead into his mouth. It tasted like pussy. He tried to bite it, but it was leathery and squishy. He positioned it carefully between his back teeth and managed to bite through it. A metallic taste filled his mouth as he stepped out the door.

Peter stood in the school yard. Noisy children all around made him dizzy. They sounded so clear and high pitched. The sensory overload affected his eyes too. Everything seemed a little too vivid, too sharp and too large. He could make out the open shoelace on a girl swinging 30 meters away, and a tear in the sleeve of a boy right next to him.

There were three boys there, collecting stones from the ground and talking. He knew that they were called Simon, Mike and George. They were fifth graders, but he did not see them from higher up. That was because he was 11 years old too. Simon was talking about being spanked, which he had never experienced.

“I know that it like hurts like the worst ever, but what is it like? I would like to get spanked just to know how it feels.”

Peter remembered this conversation. It was one of the days from his childhood that had stayed with him for some reason. He expected to be aroused, hearing a preteen boy talk about spanking, but all he felt was slight embarrassment. He had been disciplined, but he did not remember much pain. It was more about being proven wrong, made to feel shame for his actions. A distant threat suddenly becoming real. But he couldn't talk about things like that with the boys. It was something that Simon used to say, never him.

So, he was experiencing a moment from his childhood. There was much that he had not remembered, like the traffic on the road right next to the school. Exhaust from the cars was black, the air bitter with smoke, especially when a bigger vehicle drove by. His clothes chafed his skin uncomfortably. Was he just a spectator or could he act freely?

Mike chose a stone and threw it at a boy about ten meters away. He missed and hit a tetherball pole next to the boy instead. Peter heard the metal clang, but the boy did not react. It was because he was deaf, there was a school for the hearing-impaired next to theirs with a common yard. Peter knew that those kids were surprisingly loud and annoying. Looking at them now, they looked like regular children playing, though. He observed himself choosing a stone to throw.

Were there two persons inhabiting this 11-year-old body now, a grown-up that liked to see children play and a child that wanted to throw rocks at them? He remembered how the events would proceed. His throw would be an undetected miss too, then George would hit the kid on the back of the head. There would be blood and mayhem, but they would run away before getting caught. Later, after school, they would visit a shop and Mike would buy a winning scratch lottery card. Years later he would develop a gambling habit.

Ready to throw, Peter changed his aim slightly away from the target. Casting the stone felt great. All the movements of his body were light and effortless, but the rock did not fly as far as he expected. Instead of landing behind the boy, it touched ground in front of him, raising a cloud of dust. He turned immediately to look where it came from. The boys tried to act innocent, and as the deaf boy went to find a teacher, they dropped the stones and moved away.

Peter left his classmates and ran a little just to enjoy the ease of it. It felt like he could become airborne if he kept the pace a little longer. There were girls playing on gymnastics bars, doing tricks like “skin the cat” and “pullover.” He did not know them, they looked like third graders. He stopped to look at them, watching their shirts fall to reveal their tits when they were hanging head down. One of them took her t-shirt off before rolling fast around the bar. As an adult, he could never have been able to look at them that close. He expected to get a boner, but the little girl's nipples did not excite him like he thought they would. They were just little pink dimples, like the ones he had himself. It felt awkward to stay long with the girls, his friends could see him. He let his instinct guide him and ran away.

Why did his body not react to the girls? He was sure that he could remember playing with his boy parts when he was much younger than that. He made his way to the toilet. The stalls had no doors, but he was alone there. He went to the farthest stall, dropped his pants and took his penis in his hand. It was so small and soft to touch. As he examined it with his fingers, it hardened but did not grow much bigger. He could pull the foreskin over the glans, but there was not enough length for proper stroking. He moved the skin to-and-fro with his fingertips for a while and felt his body tense with the sensation. Still, there was no reaction in his balls, and he had to piss. As he pointed the dick to the toilet bowl, it went limp again. He let his muscle memory take control of urinating. On the way out he had to consciously stop to wash his hands.

He hadn't remembered how slow time crawled in a classroom. There was no air conditioning, and the chair was uncomfortable. He knew that he would be in trouble if he moved too much.

There were three classes left that day. He had forgotten all the years in history and most of the cities in geography, but now they were in his short-term memory again. His mind took a backseat and let young Peter cope with the teacher´s questions. He wondered if the kid sensed a presence in his head. Did it feel schizophrenic, or was it like his own impulse when older Peter took control?

Lunch in the school cafeteria was an unidentifiable casserole. The amount of salt came as a surprise, but his taste buds were used to it. Other than that, it was bland and sludgy. That´s why he had used his pocket money on chocolate on his way home. Or would use, it hadn´t happened yet. After school he would have an opportunity to test how this odd time loop worked. Last class was PE, random wandering in nearby woods looking for orienteering checkpoints. Skipping showering, he was free to leave 15 minutes early.

Just like he remembered, Mike and Simon entered the shop with him. George waited outside. It wasn´t talked about, but it was obvious that he didn´t have money to buy anything. Peter waited by the register, until he could cut to the line right in front of Mike.

The scratch lottery cards were sold from a pile, the clerk would simply pick the top one. Years later they would be presented in folders, giving the customer a chance to choose one. Now the top card was the one that would be sold to Mike. Peter had just enough money to buy it. Mike was a little surprised but got one too.

They scratched their cards together outside. Three symbols of 500 crowns emerged on Peter´s. He hadn´t remembered it was this much money. Mike tossed his empty lottery slip to trash and went back inside to buy another, getting stuck in a queue. Peter was about to go in and cash his winnings, maybe buy the chocolate after all, but decided to just walk home. He had lots to think about.

It was possible to turn his knowledge of the future into financial gain. Too bad he did not remember any more situations like that, national lottery numbers for instance. But this was the Eighties. There were multiple technical revolutions coming: personal computers, mobile phones and the Internet were the first that came to mind. In California, young Bill Gates was just about to take his garage business to the stock exchange.

Unfortunately, Peter had not paid closer attention to the movements of big money, the other time around. Or would not, he had to remind himself again that the future had not happened yet. Still, in a way it was his past, and if he let his life run the same path, his future would be again in making the prettiest possible porn with ridiculously cheap equipment. And having a lot of great sex with the female performers, girls as horny as himself. Nothing wrong with that, but now he could have a fortune growing in the background. Keep his money on Microsoft until the burst of the techno-bubble in the change of 1999-2000. Then buy Apple stock before the release of iPhone. He was fairly sure he wouldn't have trouble paying his electricity bill in 2024.

He did not know the practicalities of buying stock. He presumed that in his own time, it could be done online in his net bank. Create an account and put a piece of Microsoft into a shopping cart. Now there was no Internet, and as a child he had no access to his bank account. He would probably need help from his parents.

He opened the door to his home with a key hanging on a string from his neck and made his way to the fridge. Making a sandwich, he noticed an ashtray on the kitchen table. There was some fine ash on the bottom, and he could smell tobacco in the air. It was a different time for sure.

In his own timeline he had already mourned the passing of both his parents. About to meet them again, he didn't know what to expect.

Dad came home first. Peter approached him, he had really missed the man. He stopped in his tracks. It was like looking in the mirror, only weirdly distorted. Dad was younger than he remembered himself, still the resemblance was unnerving. Seeing him from the perspective of a child, their relationship came back to him. Paying the mortgage with a working man´s salary, he would not help Peter invest his money. If he knew that the boy had an extra 500, he would just stop giving pocket money.

Dad frowned at Peter, standing and staring as if they hadn't just met that morning. He walked to the kitchen and lit a fag. Lung cancer would take him in 30 years, but Peter doubted whether he could be persuaded to stop smoking. When mom came home carrying groceries, Peter went to hug her and help her fill the fridge. Both parents seemed surprised. A little taken aback, mommy told him to go play outside if he did not have any homework to do.

Peter would need some other adult helper. Teachers were the obvious answer, but he did not know any of them too well. Some other kids joked and talked with them during recesses, he had always felt that would be stepping out of his place. He was more at ease with the library staff.

Perhaps the rich folks were the ones to go to. Simon´s father was regarded as something of a big shot. Peter felt awkward opening a discussion on the way to school. The others seemed surprised too.

“Simon, is your dad some stockbroker or what?”
“No, he´s a sales representative. What´s a stockbroker?”
“You know, they buy and sell shares of big companies.”
“Like Mr. Jones?”
“Mr. Jones from school? Did he get his money like that?”
“Dad says he bought oil just before it got expensive.”

They continued talking about hundreds of oil barrels somewhere in PE teacher Jones´s home. How cool it would be if someone threw a match through his window. Peter remembered how he had admired him earlier, driving fast cars and dressing like the professional athletes for classes. Why did he even keep his job at school if he had made it so big? Anyways, Peter decided to go meet the man.

The PE teacher and the principal were the only two who had their own parking spaces. Peter heard the engine long before he saw the bright red Mustang. Some younger boys admired the car from afar, but he stepped right up to the teacher. The man was muscular, a little short. He was dressed in new, clean jeans and a baseball jacket.

“Mr. Jones, good morning.”
“Good morning, Peter.”
“Can you help me buy some stocks?”
“You mean some company shares. Have you got one in mind?”
“Yes. I don’t know if it´s available yet. It´s an American software company.”
“I´m not sure what you mean by software. But come meet me after school. I think you might have the same situation that I had 35 years ago. Or four years, if you know what I mean.”

All school day long Peter thought about what the man had said. 35 years or four. Could it be a time loop like his? He did not tell his friends much, just that he would not walk home with them. No one seemed to care.

Mr. Jones led Peter into his office by the gymnastics hall. He gave the boy a bottle of Coca-Cola. Peter took a big swing without thinking much of it. The sweet liquid evoked a surprisingly intense pleasure in his tastebuds. He remembered that the soda was not that common in the 80s. It was expensive, a rare treat for kids like him. The teacher looked at his reaction amused.

“You said you know of a company that will do well in the future?”
“Yes. It´s called Microsoft, it makes operating systems for personal computers.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about. But you´re sure that it´s shares will rise a lot?”
“I know it is weird. But I want to buy those shares with all my money. And whenever I get more, I would bring it to you to buy more.”
“I could make it even better for you. I can borrow the capital to buy the shares for you. You can pay me back from your winnings. Did you know that I made a lot of money like that? After the war I knew which companies would thrive, just like you know now.”
“Just like me, you say. My situation, I don´t know what to call it.”
“I call it time travel.”

There was an egg-like idol in his hand. Surprised, Peter got some soda into his nose and coughed for a while.

“Where did you get that?”
“Oh, it's some mumbo jumbo, I don´t really care about that. But I know it works. It will send you back to the age you came from. That company won´t make you rich overnight you know. You´ll need to sell the stock, and perhaps buy something else that´s cheap.”
“So, you really did that. Time travel.”
“Yeah, I was sent to when I was fifteen. It was so much fun. All that teenage ass. Got my finances made before the witch sent me back with one of these.”

There was a way back. He could have the wealth and lifestyle and a grown-up body to enjoy it. Yes, if he was fifteen, it would be different, but here, at eleven, there was not so much fun to be had. All he had to do was set it up for the next four decades. What other useful stuff could he remember?

“In 1986 there will be a nuclear meltdown in Chernobyl, Ukraine. There will be radiation all over Europe. They´ll try something, and their safety mechanism is faulty, it will burn and explode. Maybe we could somehow warn them?”
“That´s in the Soviet Union, kid. There´s no talking to them. How safe are we here?”
“I think no one dies in the West.”
“Ok. Then we´ll just not travel to the Commie lands before it is over.”
“East and West Germany will unite, and the Soviet Union collapses. I can´t remember, maybe it was in the Nineties. Oh, and Russia will have a president called Vladimir Putin. He will start a war on Ukraine much later. It was still going on, so I don’t know, it might be a risk to the entire world. If he could be found now, and, you know, stopped…”
“I might have tried something against Hitler if I was sent that far. What does this Putin do these days?”
“He´s a spy. In Germany I think.”
“KGB? Forget it. Just use your knowledge to get rich and avoid getting killed by something that you know about.”
“It´s so hard to remember. September 11th, 2001, there will be a terrorist attack in World Trade Center New York. Don´t go there or travel by airplane that day. And 2020, a worldwide pandemic. They will get a vaccine ready fast, and it works.”

Peter tried to remember. He was altering the past, and it would have effects on the future. It was possible that, sent to 2024, he would find himself in his grave. But Europe had been safe, hadn't it? Mr. Jones looked at him, then placed the idol on the table.

“All right. Let´s discuss the price of my help.”
“I don’t have money to give you. But if you believe me, you too can make big profit on Microsoft.”
“I have all the money I need. And it feels good, mind you, worth a little sacrifice. What I miss from my journey is doing the nasty with those young girls and boys. I kept this job so I can at least look at them. I want to do it one more time.”

The man ogled his body up and down. Peter was petrified by panic. He didn't know what had gotten into him, but he was acting crazy and couldn't help it. It was as bad as having gone into the van everybody warned about, and now he would be raped in the ass, that´s what the homo perverts did, and maybe it would make him one too. That would be worse than how much it would hurt.

His more experienced self considered Mr. Jones's proposition. He felt his heartbeat race and sweat break out all over his body. He remembered experimenting with anal sex and bondage. Something had always been missing. The raw fear and indisputable helplessness against the grown PE teacher would be something else. He looked at the man and nodded his head yes, while he could almost hear his instincts scream no.

“Go get a gymnastics mattress from the hall. I like looking at you kids on them. The key is by the windowsill.”

Stepping outside, Peter´s muscles tensed getting ready to escape. He forced himself to walk straight to the gym hall. He took a blue mattress from a pile in the equipment closet. It did not weigh much, but it was too big for him to carry and his arms ached when he got it outside. He stopped by the office door, sensing the anxious urge to drop it and run like hell. He knew that pain awaited him inside, but he needed help from the man. Besides, a part of him wanted to experience what was to come. As he purposefully stepped in, a sob escaped him. The teacher locked the door.

“Put it on the floor and undress.”

Taking off his clothes with shaking hands, Peter saw how small he was now. He was told to lay on a table so Mr. Jones could make him ready. On his back, spreading his legs with hands under his knees, he looked on as the man moistened a finger in his mouth and pressed it against Peter´s butthole. He pushed back to give it easier entry. The digit entered his rectum, making it feel full but not really hurting. Peter felt himself relax, but he knew that there was more to come. As the finger prodded around inside him, he noticed a window next to him. If someone walked by now and looked in, they would see him naked with someone´s finger in his ass. It would be so shameful. He felt it retreat and looked at the teacher. He was pressing two fingers together. Peter looked out the window and clenched his teeth. Now it felt like his hole was stretched as wide as it could go. Worse yet, the man rotated his fingers inside, forcing a yelp from the boy.

“Now it´s time. Get on the mattress.”
“Will you use a condom?”
“Hell no. You think I could get you pregnant?”
“No. There is a new sex disease. It´s called AIDS. Lots of people die. Gay men first, then others too. Only protection is condoms. It´s transferred by blood too.”
“Well I don´t have any rubbers, and I don´t like them.”
“I guess it´s ok. You couldn’t have caught it anywhere yet. What about lube?”
“Sorry kiddo, don’t have that either.”

Peter got up from the table. The man took his pants off and opened his shirt. His chest and abdomen were hairy, and underneath there was a thick, hard cock. Peter had seen bigger, but he would certainly feel this one in this little boy body. He pushed the foreskin back. There was some precum on the tip, but most of it was dry and a little sticky. He opened his mouth and took in as much of it as he could fit. It tasted a little sour and he could smell sweat from the man´s crotch. Gathering as much saliva as he could, he let it flow on the shaft. He wanted to make it slippery, then get it quickly out of his mouth.

Peter got on all fours on the mattress. He spread his legs wide and lowered his chest to the blue plastic. It smelled familiar, a little damp and sweaty. Cool air on the skin between his legs reminded him of his vulnerability. He couldn´t help shaking but kept the position as he felt hands spreading his buttocks. The warm, hard intruder forced his anus open painfully wide. He let control of his body go. Let the boy handle this now.

After a second of petrified shock, he tried to escape the penetration by dropping lower. The grip of big hands on him tightened and pulled his thighs up against the man´s groin. His kicking feet slipped on the mattress as more meat was rammed into his butt. He kept squirming and struggling, but a growing feeling of fullness told him that it was in vain. He had been made a despicable sissy. As he surrendered to being used, the cock was pulled back through his aching hole, then pushed in again. Limp like a rag doll in the hands of his violator, he swallowed snot and tears until a new kind of pain made him wail.

The thing plowing inside him had been gradually getting deeper, until it met some obstacle. Mr. Jones pressed Peter´s shoulders to the mattress with all his weight and pushed relentlessly into his ass. Totally immobilized, Peter felt pressure grow deep inside until something gave and the teacher´s cock was completely inside his bowels. As if it wasn´t enough that the man tore his asshole to shreds, now he started rapidly pounding his insides. Peter moaned in agony. He threw up on the mattress and got his face pressed to it.

He succumbed into desperation. The pain in his bowels was new and scary. He would die here, inhaling the stench of his own vomit with his last breath. The world seemed to sway as Mr. Jones stopped, still pressing him down so hard it was difficult to breathe, still impaling him so deep it felt like being skewered. The organ inside throbbed even bigger and harder, then Peter sensed hot fluid in there. Finally, the man pulled out, letting the stuff flow out of his gaping asshole. Peter wondered if it was blood, if he would bleed to death there. Not daring to look, he sank into the mattress and cried. He was ashamed and sorry for getting into trouble, but he wished his mother was there to make it better.

Slowly gathering his wits, Peter moved away from the pond of vomit. He remembered having the fantasy of being used like that, but now the part of him that could have found pleasure in it was not there. He felt like he had been beaten, his rectum ached, and he was nauseous. Most likely there was some damage that would take a long time to heal. Rolling on his side, he glanced at the man smirking down at him. He looked gigantic and his penis was still half hard. Peter crawled quickly away from him.

He realized that it was him, the naked little boy at the mercy of a violent man. He was not a spectator. Whatever more the man decided to do, it would be on his feeble body. Peter regretted walking into a dangerous situation. He moved unsteadily to his clothes and put them on. His limbs ached and the touch of the fabric hurt his anus, but he felt safer clothed. He should use all his superior experience to navigate the boy to safety, but all he wanted was a way to avoid dealing with this. He pointed at the idol on the table.

“You got your payment.”
“Go ahead, it´s yours.”
“But how…”
“Oh, it was a witch that sent you? I don’t have a cunt a to stuff it in. You´ll figure it out.”

Peter took the object. Like he remembered, it was relatively heavy, shaped like an egg. Markings on it formed a face of a crying child. Had it been like that earlier? The teacher grinned at him.

“I know it will fit.”

Mr. Jones walked to open the door, not caring if anyone saw him. Peter grabbed the statue and got out fast, barely avoiding a collision with the naked man on his way.

He got home just in time for dinner. Sitting at the table hurt and his appetite was gone. Mom tried to get him to eat and dad commanded him to sit still. It felt unfair after what he had been through. Which he had to hide at all costs. He retreated to his room when he got a chance, claiming to do schoolwork.

Peter collapsed on his bed and pressed his face on the pillow. He rested there until his breathing and pulse were close to normal, then raised his head to look around the room. On the bedside table there was a familiar book, The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. It was an old print, the first in his native language, and he knew that it would still be in his bookshelf 40 years later. He reached for the book and leafed around, looking at the illustrations. Familiar images calmed him, the runes and drawings and the colorful picture of a dragon on a mountain of gold. He took a pen and turned back to title page.

He was not sure that he could trust the PE teacher. Besides, he had only given him Microsoft. Young Peter was not very receptive now, and there was a risk that he could forget about the shares. He wrote on the book:

“Microsoft. Mr Jones. Sell by end of 1999”
“Tech stocks go down, buy Apple”

He drew an apple with a bite bitten off. Then he remembered cryptocurrency. He drew a B with vertical lines like the dollar sign. Bitcoin would start almost free, and whatever drops there would come, it would be worth a lot in 2024.

“Bitcoin. When you hear of it, get as much as you can.”

There. His work here was done. He took the stone egg and walked to the bathroom. Behind a locked door he sat on the toilet seat and examined the egg. It had required his seed to travel back in time. His essence, Jasmine had called it. But there was no sperm to be had this time. So what could it be, blood? Easier to try piss first.

He started rubbing his little penis. He did not get the reaction he was used to, but somehow it still felt good. The constant motion helped him empty his mind and just sit there, jerk his hardening dick in sweet oblivion. There was a knock on the door.

“Petey! Are you going to take long there?”
“No ma, just a little longer.”

He wanted to stop touching his privates while talking to his mother, but somehow, he had just kept going. Was the door surely locked? It had started to feel strange in his dick, not necessarily good at all. He kept rubbing it like he couldn't stop. A little spray of piss flew in the air and dropped on his lap before he managed to hold it. He pointed his still hard willy down to the toilet bowl and held the stone egg there, getting pee all over his hands and the statue.

Piss did not make it slippery like sperm had done. Knowing that it would hurt, Peter tried to shove the thing into his ass quickly. It raked the sore skin and he had to let out a moan.

“Are you feeling sick there?”
“Yes mom, just a little.”

His voice was broken as his hands pushed the hard object steadily into his asshole. It spread painfully all the more open as wider and wider part of the egg passed inside. Until it started tapering smaller again and his closing muscle pulled rest of it in.

It had changed into a small orb inside Jasmine. Would he have to dig something out of his ass and eat it? There was louder banging on the door.

“Son! Come out now. We need the toilet too.”

The idol moved deeper in his bowel. Felt like it was burning inside him. He pulled his trousers up and hurried past his father. He could barely reach his room before his cramping legs stopped supporting him.

CHAPTER 2

Peter awoke in his bed. It was not a narrow schoolboy bunk but a king size with silk sheets. As he got up, the contrast became apparent between his body and the lean boy he had left behind. There was so much weight to lift just to get into a sitting position. An iPhone on a table relayed a message from a smart ring. He had slept poorly.

Standing up and taking a few steps to open the curtains made him out of breath. Apparently, he had let himself get out of shape. He would have to start working out, and it seemed he could afford it. An ocean view from the room height windows confirmed that assumption.

The thought of hiring a personal trainer in some fancy gym reminded him of a blue gymnastic mattress and the scent of mold, sweat and other secretions. He had to sit back on the bed until a wave of nausea passed.

The idol had not disappeared from his rectum that night. His parents had had to take him to a hospital to get it removed. There, bruises and some sperm had also been found, and when the story got out at school, he was marked for life.

This time Peter did not have a heap of antiquated video equipment downstairs. Instead, there was a swimming pool, that he never really used. He changed from his silk pajamas to a home suit before going to the pool. He could not dive in naked so he put swimming shorts on. It was very difficult and slow swimming. He had decided to do 500 meters, but after a hundred, he had to get out. He would do more tomorrow.

In the dressing room there was a large tv. He mirrored a porn site from his phone intending to masturbate as a reward for his efforts in the pool. He just couldn't get it up. Perhaps he needed better stimulation, and now that money was no object, he could get it. He contacted a high-end escort service. They specialized in girlfriend-experience, but for a price they would send a supermodel-level girl for him to fuck in 15 minutes.

He felt compelled to put on a suit to meet the prostitute. As if she would care, and it was supposed to come off very soon anyway. But as the girl undressed before him, he was glad of it. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and she seemed happy and genuinely interested in him. Still, as his eyes locked on her labia, visible below a nicely maintained patch of pubic hair, his hand pushed into his trousers but found no reaction. As the naked beauty approached with her proudly protruding breasts, looking expectantly at his crotch, a panic rose within him. He paid her quickly off and locked the door behind her.

It was because of how he had meddled with his past. What he had made his younger self do, had been too much. There must have been something more afterwards, but it would not have happened if not for the encounter with the PE teacher.

He had achieved what he wanted, more money than he could understand. From a piss poor porn producer, he had changed into a successful stock market shark with no libido and looming health problems. Given a chance, he would trade back in a flash.

Peter searched for OnlyFans with sex magic. No luck there. There would be no porn career for her now, at least not in Peter´s productions. Did she even call herself Jasmine now? But where Google failed, his executive assistant Julie would not. Given the task, she did not ask questions or even express surprise. An hour later she sent a message with Jasmine´s contact details and home address. He replied by asking for a box of Viagra. It was delivered to him in five minutes.

Jasmine agreed to meet him in her flat in the suburbs. Someone had drawn a pentagram next to the buzzer button by the front door. There was no such helpful sign on the fifth floor. Peter thought he was at the wrong door, when a little girl opened it, but he was too out of breath to say anything. The girl asked him in and told him to wait.

“Mom! Your appointment is here.”

The girl slipped into a room and closed the door behind her. Had she looked like Jasmine? She was skinny and black-haired like her, but many five to six-year-olds were. If she was hers, she should be 5, rather than 6, and still Jasmine would have had her very young.

He took a blue pill. It tasted sour and made his face feel hot on top of being sweaty from climbing the stairs. He had just caught his breath when the door opened to a candlelit room. A silhouette of the child beckoned him in. When she turned around, he saw that she was naked.

Jasmine sat on a red carpet, everything else in the room was black. She was wearing a black robe, and she looked exactly like Peter remembered her. The girl kneeled next to her. Jasmine spoke with an authoritative voice:

“Welcome, Peter. What are you seeking?”
“I need your help with time travel.”

Jasmine whispered something to the girl. She shook her head. Jasmine looked at her with a frown, then said in a normal tone:

“My help is usually of more spiritual nature. Why did you come to me?”
“You have done it to me before. An egg-shaped statue was involved.”

She turned to whisper to the girl again, this time more sternly. The girl answered out loud.

“No way! For once this is something interesting. I want to see.”
“Jezebel here is learning my trade. She will bring the idol to you. Now undress.”

The girl stood up and walked behind him. He took off his clothes, feeling ugly and vulnerable, and sat on the floor keeping some distance from Jasmine. The child came back with a smooth stony egg in her hand.

“Take it. Now tell me, if you have already traveled in time, why did you come back to me?”
“I had money trouble then. Now I have plenty of money, but what I lost is more important.”
“That´s how it often goes. I can´t remember how many times I went back and forth. Having her made me decide to stay.”

She pointed to the egg in his hands. Now there were carvings on it, making it look like a fat man. He laid it down on the floor between his legs and forced himself to move his foreskin with his fingers. There was no reaction. The woman and the girl looking on made him blush.

“Impotence. When I jumped back, I was too young to, you know, and maybe…”
“No. I will not touch your urine.”
“I took a pill, but it´s no use.”

Jasmine stood up and left the room with the girl in tow. Peter was relieved to be left alone, but still, he could not get anything to happen. Little Jezebel returned with a cup. She gave it to Peter and sat in her mother´s place. Peter drank. It was cold, tasted like tea. He put the empty cup down.

Peter kept absentmindedly touching his dick while observing the girl. She took poses sitting in her mother´s place, sometimes solemn, sometimes dramatic. After a while the light from the candles started pulsing in Peter´s eyes. It almost looked like the girl had similar tattoos as her mother, but they kept disappearing in the shadows.

Concentrating hard, Peter managed to shake the double vision. In front of him was just a little girl pretending to be her mother. She was kind of cute, raising her hand with index and little finger up. Peter felt a twitch in his hand. He was getting hard. He lowered his gaze from her flat chest. She was sitting cross-legged, giving an unobstructed view to her crotch. Completely erect, Peter started stroking his cock.

The girl noticed movement and saw him staring at her pussy while masturbating hard. Her eyes locked to his engorged penis and she cried:

“Mommy!”

Her intimidated voice got him over the edge. A quick spasm in his lower body and hands full of slime. Suddenly Jasmine was next to him.

“Jezebel, this rite will look disturbing. You should leave.”
“No. I want to see.”
“All right then. Bring the idol to me and stand aside.”

The girl got up and came to pick up the statue. It felt weird to give her the thing covered in warm sperm. She was quick to take it to her mother and wipe her hands on the carpet.

Peter watched mildly repulsed the idol disappear into the folds of flesh between the woman´s legs. She fell on her back and her breasts jerked. Despite her clear discomfort it took him a lot of time and effort to get close to her and stuff his fingers into the squishy vagina. Having fished the small bead from the slimy orifice he tasted vomit in his mouth. He dashed to the bathroom and rinsed the object thoroughly before putting it into his mouth.

“…I would like to get spanked just to know how it feels.”

Peter experienced the lightness of body and clarity of senses again. He was relieved to be able to breathe without difficulty. A future like that was to be avoided. On the other hand, he once again faced the awkwardness of being an introvert boy in awe of Simon´s shamelessness. Timid modesty had made him vulnerable last time. It had to go.

“I can whoop your ass if that´s what you´re after, Simbo.”

The boys looked at him surprised. George sniggered. Peter remembered that Simon did not like that nickname at all.

“Ooh, Pete, I´m so scared you´ll hurt me.”
“Yeah, like this!”

Mike threw a stone at the deaf kid. As it hit the tetherball stand, Peter turned away.

“No, Mike, I´ll hurt him more than that.”

Walking away, Peter heard a non-verbal cry and start of a commotion. He checked that the key to the gym hall was hidden in the windowsill by the front door. There were too many people around to test if it fit the PE teacher´s office.

When PE class started, Peter took the orienteering map from Mr. Jones, walked into the woods and doubled back as soon as he was out of sight. He made his way back to the gym hall and got the key. It did fit the office door.

The room was like he remembered it. Fridge filled with Coca Cola, a large desk by a window, and enough floor space to molest a child without hitting any furniture. Where had the man got the idol? The desk drawer was Peter´s only guess, but it was not there. Just a camera, pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

He was trying to retrace the steps he actually had not taken, when he heard someone unlocking the door. Looking for a place to hide, he noticed an inconspicuous door. It looked like a closet, but once opened, it led into a dimly lit technical corridor with pipes mounted on the walls. There were doors on either side, but as he was considering them, he heard someone at the entrance behind him. He moved on, keeping close to the piping so that he would be harder to notice. The person behind him opened one of the doors he had passed and went in. Peter continued to the end of the corridor.

He found himself in the hallway of the gym hall. Three girls of his class, Nancy, Erin and Samantha, clad in neon-colored gymwear, were on their way to the dressing room and saw him. Nancy, the natural leader of the group, sneered at him.

“Pete, what are you creeping here for? Fancy seeing us naked?”
“Of course I do. You all look good, and I have never seen what you girls have there.”
“Ugh, totally gross! You are in so much trouble when I tell on you.”
“No, you won´t, cause snitches get stitches.”

Outside, Peter left the key in its hiding place. Mike, George and Simon returned from orienteering just as he was about to leave.

“Pete! Where have you been? How many check points did you find?”
“Zero. Didn´t feel like it today.”
“Yeah, he probably been saving his strength for spanking Simon.”

The boys liked the new Peter. They played along with his confident banter, still ready to lash out the minute the familiar, timid boy would resurface. Peter was not going to let that happen.

“Simon, did you not bring a switch? You were in the woods for crying out loud. Go get one now!”

Simon grinned and ran to the nearest bush. Peter saw a willow growing by the entrance to the school yard. He cut a twig, almost a meter long and as thick as his finger. George whistled.

“That looks nasty. You know, Simon is so crazy he might go through with it.”

Simon returned with a small twig. Peter´s father kept a similar switch on a wall as a threat. Peter shook the willow cane.

“That´s not a switch, Simbo. This is a switch. Now hold it for me, I have some business to attend to at the shop.”

Getting 500 crowns richer the way he did, made an impression on the boys. Peter spied grown-ups looking at the four lads, one of them slashing roadside weeds with a willow twig. They clearly suspected that the kids were up to no good. They had no clue. There was some fun to be had here, but Peter saw already that it would be limited. Better to just get hold of the egg and find a way to use it without traumatizing this 11-year-old vessel.

Simon lived in the first high rise. He stopped and handed Peter the switch. Peter slashed the air with it and followed him. The others stood and watched until the two were inside the building.

In the elevator Simon did not seem so sure anymore. He did not want to chicken out but would have been happy if Peter proposed to let it go. But Peter wanted to harden himself for what he would have to do with the egg. He followed Simon into his home without a word.

He had visited the apartment before. It had been about Lego figures going to war against toy soldiers. There were still some Lego fortresses on bookshelves in Simon´s room. He pointed at the unmade bed with the cane.

“Get your pants off and kneel there.”
“Undies too?”
“Undies too. How much time do we have until your parents come?”
“One or two hours. Why?”
“In case you cry so loud that they´d hear.”
“You think I´ll cry?”
“Most do when spanked.”

Simon looked at him pleadingly. Peter felt good, having the upper hand for a change. He pretended not to see the boy´s discomfort.

“Suppose you have been naughty enough for ten swats. You can keep count of how many you have left. Kneel over the bed. Take a pillow under your knees if it´s too high.”

Simon assumed the position slowly. The boy´s butt presented like that was an arousing, forbidden sight. Peter´s juvenile mind agreed; there was something stirring inside his pants. He took a careful aim, then lashed Simon hard across the buttocks. He rolled away to the far side of the bed and crouched there.

“Fuck, fuck, shit! That hurt so bad.”
“Now you know how it feels. Come here and get the rest of it.”
“No fucking way. I can’t take nine more.”
“I´ll stop if it is too much for you. Didn't think the first one would make you cry like a baby.”

Simon looked at him. Peter could tell what he was thinking: how would it seem to the others at school. He got back to position. It was clear from his movements that it still hurt a lot.

Peter saw a bright red line across Simon´s butt cheeks. Skin on the right one was broken where the tip of the switch had made contact. Curious, he touched the welt carefully. Simon drew breath sharply and clenched his buttocks. His butt hole contracted, drawing Peter´s attention. He tried to imagine the stone egg spreading that opening wide and forcing its way in.

He had hit too hard. More damage like that would not do. He swung the cane around, trying to control the speed. He broke it in half to decrease leverage. Then he lashed again. This time Simon managed to stay in place. There was another red line on his skin, but it was lighter.

Encouraged, Peter flogged the boy quickly twice. Simon made a strange little sound. Peter leaned to look at him, but he turned his face away. Obviously, he was crying. When Peter stood up, he whined quietly and his body shook.

Peter got back down to examine the ill-treated skin. The initial welt was still the only real injury. Other than that, there were red marks where the switch had landed, but they would soon be gone. Still, the pain inflicted at him had distressed Simon more than either of them had anticipated. Peter cupped one cheek in his palm and rested his thumb on Simon´s butt crack.

“Ready for more spanking?”

Still looking away, Simon shook his head. Peter pressed his thumb against his butthole. Adding pressure, he observed the anus opening. The finger sunk in surprisingly easily. Simon froze as Peter probed inside his ass and undid his trousers. His prick was hard and slim, like a nail entering the boy. He felt friction, but with the second thrust he got completely inside. He paused for a few seconds to sense the tight squeeze, then moved a few times, entertained by the vision of Simon´s buttocks bulging against his hips.

Peter pulled out and slapped Simon´s ass. The boy jerked in surprise, then rose and pulled his trousers up. He sat on the bed, grimaced and stood up again fast.

“You wanna read some comics?”

Simon had all the latest Commando magazines. The boys laid on the floor reading World War II adventures until Simon´s parents came home. Peter ate dinner with them.

Next morning Peter caught up with Simon and George on the way to school just in time to hear Simon´s version of yesterday´s shenanigans.

“…and he tried to put his dick into my ass.”
“Fuck that, Simbo, I did not try anything. You whined like a bitch when I spanked you, so I fucked you like one.”
“Oh yeah?”

Simon stared at Peter, then attacked suddenly George.

“Hold him, I´ll make Georgie my bitch.”

The boys grabbled, blocking the road completely. Simon pushed his hand into George´s pants. He protested loudly and noticed someone standing in front of them. It was Samantha from their class. Wrestling ceased. Simon and George ran towards the school. Peter walked with Samantha.

“Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you mean what you told us yesterday?”
“That I´d want to see you naked?”
“No. Or… That you think we are good looking.”
“Of course I meant it. And you are the most beautiful girl in the school.”
“Thank you I guess.”
“You´re welcome. May I see you naked now?”
“As if! You´re totally grody.”

The girl picked up speed. Peter slowed down to see her go. Mike caught up with him.

“Hi, Pete! What´s up?”
“Look at that nice ass.”

Mike was not impressed. Samantha acted like she had not heard.

Classes were boring, but Peter enjoyed the recesses. At last, he was popular, although many of his jokes went over his friends’ heads. He knew that they wanted to walk home with him, but he chose to take a detour and do some thinking.

It felt good to be young. No aches or responsibilities. But no independence either. He would be told what to do for the next seven years. Samantha was waiting for him by his front door.

“I want to see yours too.”

She led him to her home. Peter had never been to such a young girl´s room. It was not as tidy as he would have thought. There was a desk cluttered with colorful, glittery objects, most of which he could not identify. On a bookshelf he saw something familiar, The Hobbit, which he also had. The rest of the books he knew but had not read. Samantha looked nervous.

“You promise to do it too when you have seen me?”
“I can go first.”

Peter shed his clothes on the floor. Samantha looked a little surprised, glanced at his groin and quickly lifted her stare to his eyes.

“Oh. Does it feel strange when it hangs out like that?”

Peter jumped a few times, making his dick bounce up and down.

“No. Your turn.”

She undressed slower than he had, folding her pants and panties on the bed. After a little hesitation she pulled her shirt also off. She stood completely naked in front of Peter. His gaze followed her body down to the little slit between her legs.

“Not much to look at, right?”
“You are beautiful. Can I look closer?”

She backed up and sat on the bed. Drawing breath, she spread her legs. Peter stepped close and dropped to his knees. The slit between her labia remained closed.

“May I feel it?”

Samantha bit her lip and nodded. Peter stroked the soft pussy lips with his finger, then spread them to see the pink insides. He moved his hands below her legs to her back and quickly pushed his tongue into her vulva. Surprised, she tried to move away, but his grip held him attached to her pussy. He licked inside her folds while she squirmed and complained ticklish. He spread her labia wider with his lips and found the nub of her clitoris. She stopped moving.

“What are you doing?”

He did not stop to answer. His tongue wandered down to probe the tight opening to her vagina, finding some moisture, and returned to work on her clit. She panted and started squirming again.

“Stop, it feels strange.”

Peter caught the top of her pussy between his lips and continued licking. Samantha grabbed his hair and dragged him away. He yelped in pain.

“I told you to stop.”
“It tastes so good.”
“You're weird. Now I want to touch yours.”

Peter stood eagerly up. Samantha´s hand stopped centimeters away from his dick when she saw it move. Her eyes got big and round as the boy part before her hardened and rose to point upward.

Sound of the front door opening startled them both. The naked kids froze to listen to heavy steps from outside the room.

“It´s dad.”

Samantha whispered. Both put on their clothes hastily. Samantha pressed her ear to the door and listened. She took a book from the bedside table and beckoned Peter to follow.

“If he sees you, you came to loan this.”

He looked at the cover. One Hundred Years of Solitude. They tiptoed to the front door, meeting no one. Samantha took the book back before closing the door quietly. Peter got home and made the stock exchange notes in his “The Hobbit”.

The following morning, Peter left for school as soon as his parents had gone to work. He was there half an hour before the first class. Cautiously, he let himself in the PE teacher’s office to go through it properly. He checked the doors in the technical corridor. They led to small rooms with controls to the water pressure and warmth of the showers. On the wall there were mirrors for some reason. When he turned the lights off, he noticed that he could see though the mirror into the shower room.

No sign of the egg-shaped statue. There was still fifteen minutes left when he heard Mr. Jones´ muscle car. He took a bottle of Coke from the fridge and waited. The man was surprised to find him in his office.

“Mr. Jones, we have had this conversation before. I´m a time traveler like you.”
“Really? Sounds intriguing. Tell me more.”
“I know how some company shares will gain value in the future. You can help me buy them, and I need the egg thingy to get back to the future.”
“And I will agree to help you?”
“Well, yes. Last time the price was too high. What you did to me had a big impact, and the egg had to be removed in a hospital. We need to figure out something else.”
“The egg thing is easy. Just stretch and apply lubrication in advance, and you should be able to push it out like a turd, if you don´t panic.”
“What about the price. My ass is not available.”
“Bring a friend to the gym hall after school. You know what I like to see.”

On his way to the classroom Peter tried to make up his mind. Simon or Samantha? Both could be persuaded. He did not know, how much he could trust the PE teacher. Well, he would do the Microsoft deal as promised.

Peter rummaged around his desk for something to write on. What shares he wanted, and when to sell them. He found a folded paper: “I still want to touch it.” He wrote: “Gym Hall, after school”. Between classes, he snuck the paper into Samantha´s desk.

She smiled when she saw him by the gym hall door. He took the key from its hiding place and led her in. Making his way to the storage closet, he dropped his pants and hopped up to sit on the pile of mattresses. She looked at his groin.

“Now it´s soft.”
“It will harden if you touch it.”

Samantha´s hand felt cool on him. As promised, his dick got hard. She moved it around, looking closely. He reached down and pulled his foreskin down.

“Try it like this.”

She was impressed. After a little fumbling, she managed to move the foreskin. She pulled it back over the glans before taking a tentative lick. She peeled the foreskin out of the way and smelled it, then licked the glans. Peter moaned a little. She looked at him, smirked and enveloped the dick with her mouth. As she started sucking it like a lollipop, Peter saw Mr. Jones approach from behind her with a camera. He did not react. Clack of the camera shutter echoed in the hall. Samantha jerked away from Peter and turned toward the sound. Mr. Jones took another picture.

“Oh, you naughty children. Do you even realize how deep in trouble you are?”

Samantha´s face was red. Peter reached to pull up his trousers.

“Stop. Don´t dress yet. I have just a couple of pictures to go before developing the film. Then I´ll hang the pictures on the bulletin board for all the school to see.”

The girl stood and shivered, not able to say a word. Peter felt an inappropriate urge to giggle. He swallowed and pleaded:

“Please, sir. Can´t you keep this a secret? I´ll do anything.”
“You will? How about you, girl? Will you do anything?”

Samantha nodded, looking at the floor.

“Off with your clothes then. You two will fuck properly for me.”

The girl burst into tears. Peter went to hug her.

“My dad can´t hear about this.”

Peter could barely make out the words from her sobbing. He held her for a while, then kissed her cheek and whispered:

“Don´t look at him. Pretend he doesn't exist.”

He led her to the mattresses and helped her undress. She laid motionless with her head turned away from the teacher. Peter knew that this was very wrong, but still he was excited. He leaned to kiss her cheek again and spread her legs.

Probing her pussy with his tongue, he found no trace of moisture. The entrance to her vagina was so small and tight, that he could not imagine how anything could fit in there. He tried to salivate on her vulva as much as he could.

Peter rubbed the tip of his slim, hard dick between Samantha´s labia, and finding the opening, pushed in. Not wanting to prolong it for the girl, he entered her completely. He brushed her hair.

“There. The worst should be over now.”

She looked at where their bodies connected. Peter started humping the girl. Sensation in his dick built fast. He heard the camera again and turned to look at Mr. Jones. He pulled out of the girl.

“I can´t go on longer.”
“Ok, kid. I´ll take over.”

The teacher pushed Peter away and stood between Samantha´s legs. The pile of mattresses was so high that he needed to only crouch a little to line up his penis with the girl. He pushed her belly down with one hand and used the other to point his precum-oozing dick to her vagina.

“Your boyfriend drilled you open for me. Now get ready for real meat.”

Samantha shrieked as her pussy was stretched painfully. Peter took hold of her hand and brushed her cheek. He could not help looking curiously as the man-size cock forced its way into her body. When it changed its direction to pull back, he whispered into her ear.

“You are doing good. I think it won´t be long now.”

The man thrusted hard into her, making her body slide further on the mattress. He grabbed her belly with both hands and pulled her back against his invading cock. Samantha let out a guttural moan followed by constant groaning. Peter looked at the violation being done to her.

“You hurt her going that deep”
“I want it balls deep. You jerk the shaft and lick my balls.”

Peter crouched between his legs and arched his neck to reach the hairy sack with his mouth. He fondled the cock shaft with both hands, trying to keep some of it outside Samantha´s vagina. The organ felt sweaty in his hands and all he could see was the man´s thrusting ass.

It took forever before the man pushed in hard and stopped. His anus pulsed in front of Peter´s eyes and he felt slimy fluid in his hands. He clambered away from the man with a numb neck. Pressing it with his hand and looking down made it instantly return to normal. Did he really want to jump back to being fifty?

There was some blood in the goo staining his hands. Being a kid was not all fun and games. He looked at Samantha, trying to figure out how bad she was hurt. The girl had not taken cover, she just lay where she had been left. Mr. Jones patted her belly, making her react and roll into a ball on the mattresses.

“Ok, little girl. I´m done with you.”

He turned to Peter and winked, holding a stone egg in his hand.

“Now it´s time for Loverboy here. Hop on there!”

Peter climbed on top of the mattress pile. Samantha noticed it move and looked perplexed. Mr. Jones placed a bowl on the mattresses. It contained a cake of soft butter.

“Now little lady smears butter on her fingers real good while Loverboy spreads his ass open.”

Samantha was made to push a finger into Peter´s butt hole. Sobbing low, she asked for his forgiveness before obliging. It did not hurt; with the butter it slipped in easily. Two fingers were demanded next, then three. Now Peter felt stretched back there, but he knew that it was not going to be enough.

Four fingers took some time to fit. Together, they could be pushed deeper. The teacher demanded Samantha sink them all the way in, until her thumb pressed against his ball sack.

“Move those fingers, like digging inside… no, that won´t do. You have a small hand, girl. I think you both know what it means.”

There was panic in Samantha´s eyes. Peter leaned closer to her in the potent smell of excrement and wrapped her hand into a tight fist. He rubbed the rest of the butter on her paw.

“Think about your father. You can do it, and nobody will know.”

He turned around and offered his rear to her again. Her clenched hand felt hard on his buttocks. He pushed back against it and got his sphincter to start opening around a knuckle. Thought of making the girl do this made him hard. With a sound of greasy plop her fist slipped in. His muscle tightened around her wrist. Mr. Jones leaned closer with his camera.

“Deeper.”

Samantha cried constantly as she grabbed Peter´s thigh with her left hand and pushed deeper into him. His dick twitched.

“There. That´s his prostate. Rub right there and jerk his prick with your other hand.”

Peter reveled in the dirtiness of it. The crying girl´s touch on his private parts made the sensations peak in no time, then it became slightly uncomfortable. He heard the teacher instruct the girl, but his concentration was lost in squirming and sweating. It became intolerable, and his bladder let out a strong burst of piss that he felt splash on his chest. Samantha let go of his dick. Mr. Jones presented the bowl, now full of piss, and the stone egg enclosed in it. It formed a statue of a smirking boy.

“Right, girl. Pull your hand out of his ass and stuff this in there. Wider end first, so there are contours for you to grab if he needs help getting it out.”

The statue slipped in relatively easy. A burn spread in his stomach and he struggled into a half sitting position.

CHAPTER 3

Peter stopped while getting out of his car. He sat back on the leather seat to inhale the scent of the interior. A new, luxurious car in a roomy garage. Finances seemed all right this time too. Maneuvering the car door and moving around, he enjoyed the adult muscle power and feeling of being fit. And he had a hardon. Looking good this far.

He let his dick lead him out of the garage and toward a basement. There was something there that amplified his lust. The property was large, no neighbors visible.

In the basement there was a studio. LED lights this time. He thought it a bit odd, because however his past had changed, the Internet would still be there to ruin the independent porn business. And a small studio like this would not be used for prime-time drama.

Muscle memory led him to a door at the far end of the studio. A latch needed to be opened before he got in and stopped in his tracks. On a mattress on the floor laid a naked little girl. Skinny, blonde, perhaps ten years old. In a corner of the room there was a bucket covered with a lid. Nothing else in the room, but this was plenty to disturb Peter. His body reacted differently; he felt his penis twitch expectantly in his pants. He had gotten himself into another nightmare.

His pulsating hardon made it a little awkward to walk to the girl. As he took his shirt off, she got on her back and spread her legs. Pussy and anus were presented for him to choose. Would he invade her silky-smooth girl hole or bury his manhood in her tight ass? With some persistence, he could force it all the way in there.

He saw bruises on her thighs, there was no expression on her face. He knew what she looked like scared, crying desperately, or in pain. No recollection of her laughing or smiling. When he pulled her to a sitting position and wrapped the shirt on her shoulders, there was no reaction from her. Peter was very afraid.

He did not dare think about how she had got there. He pulled her by her hand to the studio. There had to be some clothes for her. As he started looking around, he got into his head an image of a torn leotard exposing soft, delicate skin. Staying in the studio became unbearable. He led the girl up to the house.

It was a bachelor´s home. Lots of wood and glass and home electronics; must have taken plenty of money and no woman´s touch at all. No children´s clothing to be found. He could have lived quite comfortably here, but not as the man he was turning out to be. Back in the day, he and Mr. Jones had turned the school into quite a playground. And that was just the beginning. Peter forced his mind back to the matter at hand.

In the bedroom the girl stood looking at the gigantic bed. Peter found a pair of sporting shorts and gave them to her. Seeing her sleek limbs and cute tummy as she struggled to tighten the adult size shorts on her slim waist, his cock throbbed painfully. He had to undo this mess, but first there was the child to be taken care of.

He took her to the car and drove to the nearest mall. On the escalator she took his hand. Peter´s brain melted. If he traveled back in time again, would there still be versions of him and the girl somewhere? If so, the constant hardness in his crotch hinted at what would happen. He had to figure out a way to get her to safety before jumping the ship himself.

There was a fast-food restaurant next to the clothes store. Peter was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice the girl´s longing look toward the source of a greasy smell. He did hear her stomach growl as they entered the store. Had he not even fed the child? Suicide started to feel like a viable option.

In the clothing store he made an excuse about an accident, dog pissing on all her clothes, and asked if she could pick new ones and put them on in the fitting booth. He found underwear for her and asked her to choose what she wanted. Wordless, she started going through the racks. It occurred to him that he had not heard her speak. Was she a foreigner? A salesclerk hovered around them, but he could not leave the girl with her. It would be difficult to get away past the security of the mall, if she told on him.

Shopping done, he took her to the fast-food joint. She chose a big meal from a touch screen. A lot of food for a little girl, Peter deemed he had time to browse his phone.

No luck finding a witch called Jasmine. And there was the girl. She needed medical attention, probably therapy, and first of all safety from further abuse. But with the money he had at his disposal now, she would be back in his grasp in no time. Perhaps take her to the police? It would serve this Peter right to be incarcerated, but he wanted a head start to find Jasmine.

Sound of slurping an empty soda mug turned his attention back to the girl. She had already devoured the junk food. Peter felt another kind of hunger. Why had she chosen such skimpy clothes? Had he made a mistake not taking her when he had a chance? He had clearly done it before, what harm would one more time do? He got her a bag of nuggets to go.

They drove to the suburbs. Following his steps from another life, he made his way to a doorway and pressed the buzzer next to a pentagram. Upstairs, the black-haired girl opened the door.

“It´s you again. Come on in. Katina, you wait here”

She led Peter straight to the candle-lit room. He found the familiar figure of Jasmine waiting.

“She said it´s me again. Have I been here before?”
“I have not met you. Jezebel has grown her capabilities during multiple lives.”
“How do you two make it work? I keep getting worse off every time.”
“I stopped doing it. She embraced it and became powerful.”
“I can´t stop now. What I have become… I came here with a child. I´m afraid I´ll hurt her.”
“What do you want me to do? You are a powerful man, we can´t protect her from you.”
“I guess I must come back later. Unless you have use for a human sacrifice.”

Jezebel´s childlike voice cut in from the shadows.

“Which one would you offer? Yourself, or the girl?”
“What, me of course. After I bite the time travel pill.”

Jasmine looked at her disapprovingly.

“I will have nothing to do with such a thing.”
“That´s all right, mother. You can go see how Katina is doing outside.”

Jasmine walked away. The girl emerged from the shadows, naked and carrying a candle and an egg-idol. She pointed him to his place on the floor. He undressed, a little ashamed of his erect cock still pointing straight up.

“I´ve been wondering about those statues. I´m about to travel back in time, and you have one for me. There, there is this man, not a wizard in the least, he has been even further back, and he has one too. Where do they come from, and how come someone has to give me one, whichever way I´m going?”
“So, you think that time has a direction? The idols can be manufactured or found. Now sit down and stop talking.”

She lit the candle from the flame of one already burning and placed it between them. First thing he noticed was that it blocked his view to her crotch. Then the fumes from the flame reached him, making him dizzy. The egg-idol was in his hands. She had not given it to him.

He started stroking his penis. Flame between them made it hard to focus on her petite body, but it did not stop him from trying. Pulse of his own blood throbbed in his ears and his vision was filled with disparate images of her anatomy. He reached his climax quickly and shot a stream of semen toward the child. A glob of cum landed on her belly and the candle went out. Acrid black smoke made his eyes water.

The girl picked the sperm up from her skin with a finger and reached out to him, wiping it on the stone egg. Peter smeared what he had in his hands on the egg, then she took it from him.

She looked tiny when she spread her legs and took the statue to her labia. Spreading the lips with one hand, she pressed the object between them. Peter doubted his eyes as it gradually disappeared into her vagina. She sat still for a while, then fell on her back shaking.

Peter got closer. Reaching that tiny crotch, he found his fingers exploring her vulva greedily. Catching himself, he pushed into her and found the bead immediately. He retreated quickly out of touching distance.

The little witch stood up with a wooden box in her hands. He had seen it before, with Jasmine. She led Peter to stand back against a wall. There were straps attached to the wall, and she crouched to fix his ankles wide apart.

Peter put his fingers into his mouth, savoring the taste of unripe pussy. Leaving the bead on his tongue, he spread his arms to the straps by his sides. The little girl reached out to fasten them, pressing her warm naked body on his. He was hard again.

“The offering will not be me taking your life. Do you willingly give what I need from you?”
“Yes.”
“Bite it now.”

The candle in the middle of the room was burning again. Jezebel opened the box and pulled out a knife. He maneuvered the bead between his teeth, suddenly afraid of dropping it. He had the metallic taste in his mouth already and his senses kept failing him. His vision faded to black and a hum like a malfunctioning air conditioner filled his ears.

If he just got back to the past, that's all he asked for. He had already had a good thing going with Samantha. This time he would not let PE Teacher Jones turn it into shit. Why would he want to fast forward into middle age anyway? If he got back his youth and health, he intended to stay.

But how did this time travel work? Was he about to move from one timeline to another, leaving this Peter to be dealt with by little Jezebel and her big knife? Wouldn't that mean that it was all in vain? There would still be a Peter having happily his way with the girl locked into his basement.

And if the past could truly be changed? When he jumped back, Jasmine and Jezebel would disappear, would not even have been born. They had helped him to jump in time. Would they have done it, if it meant their own demise?

Peter's head was so full of questions, that he was no more sure of his own existence. Physically, he had lost his hearing and sense of smell. A numbness engulfed him until all that was left was the bitter taste, that seemed to engulf the universe.

He was in the bathroom, fat and exhausted. How had Jezebel got him there? Just when he had thought that he could understand the rules of this, it got even more incomprehensible. There was a crushing pain around his chest, and his feet gave in.

He was on the floor, someone shining a flashlight to his eye. But why were there dated studio lights on the roof above them?

Now he got it. How the little witch could be so powerful. What sacrifice she demanded of him. But it wasn't a sacrifice, not really. He was given just what he wanted. A way to undo the mess he had made. All he had to do was spit out the thing in his mouth, and fight whatever drug it was that Jasmine had made him take. There was no magic. He would be a poor, lonely middle-aged man, there was no changing that.

A mask was held on his face. Fresh air, rich with oxygen, filled his lungs and cleared his head. It all made sense. He had had a crush on Samantha when he was young. Had not dared do anything about it. And he had thought that the PE teacher was creepy.

He was regaining his senses. There was a paramedic beside him. No sign of Jasmine. It was really hot in the studio. Had the aircon died on him again?

There was something solid in his mouth. The taste of little girl pussy lingered on the bead-like object. Was it his imagination, or had he really dug it from Jezebel's cunny? He bit it hard. Darkness swallowed him again.

“I know that it like hurts like the worst ever, but what is it like? I would like to get spanked just to know how it feels.”