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The following is a work of fiction copyright Radical Gopher. This story contains adult themes and situations and should not be read by anyone under the age of 18.

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THYME AFTER TIME - part 02

Cassia took a deep breath before even opening her eyes. The air was fresh, crisp and cool, but not uncomfortably cold. She could feel something soft beneath her, undulating slightly like waves on the ocean. Turning her head she looked. She was lying atop a gigantic field of what looked like soft, white pebbles beneath an amber sky. Curious, she sat up, or at least tried to, but she met with no success. Something seemed to be holding her down, or more correctly pulling her down. Trying to raise a leg or her head met with the same, inexplicable failure. She paused for a moment to examine the "pebbles" a bit closer. Each appeared to be perfectly round and identical in size to every other one; yet they all had a kind of yielding firmness. It made it rather difficult to define their true nature. Cassia almost felt as if she were resting in a gigantic beanbag chair, minus the vinyl. What made it even more interesting was that the pebbles all seemed to be giving off a subtle, noiseless vibration. There was also a slight current of energy that brushed lightly against her fur.

The pink-furred pegasus tried once more to sit up and after several moments of concentrated effort managed to raise herself. When she did, however, her legs sank into the field of pebbles. Within seconds, she found herself hip deep in the strange spheroids and slowly sinking. She tried digging through them with her hands, but it was like trying to dig a hole in water.

Cassia began to feel more than a little scared. She began flapping her wings, hoping to lift herself free of the strange objects. The harder and faster she flapped, the more solidly the white 'pebbles' seemed to grip her. Worse, the moment she stopped flapping she sank to her waist.

The pegasus girl looked around, hoping to spot somebody, or something that could help her, but the field seemed to stretch on into the horizon. She was alone. Desperate, she tapped into herself, touching a part of her powers she only rarely used. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the alien 'pebbles' and let loose a blast of heat from her eyes. The spheroids hardly reacted at all save to immediately fill in the hole Cassia had dug in them with her energy vision.

"Great," she muttered to herself. The damned things are fireproof."

Apparently, they were also more than a little miffed by Cassia's efforts. A few seconds after she had unloosed her energy vision, the pebbles discharged a rather noxious gas that left the pegasus coughing and sneezing furiously. By the time she had recovered, she was up to her neck in the white 'pebbles.' The more she struggled, the harder it became to move. Before she knew it, they were pressing in on her so tightly she couldn't even bend a finger.

Cassia quietly wondered what was next. Her answer came when one of the objects slipped passed her nether lips and began moving around inside her. They brushed against the inner wall of her passage, making her flanks shudder. She nickered softly and tried to bring her legs together, but they were solidly pinned. This first 'pebble' was quickly joined by others that also began sliding around inside her. Within moments, she could feel herself becoming sopping wet The dampness seemed to attract more of them, and they began to push against each other, each jostling for a spot and massaging her lower extremities.

A few wayward 'pebbles' found their way to her tail hole where they formed a conga line of sorts and pushed into her. The sensation was incredible. Massaged both from within and without Cassia found herself trying to move in rhythm to the white objects. She nickered again, more loudly than before, gasping for air as her body responded, to the constant stimulation. The sensations were exacerbated by her inability to move. The pegasus had always been a bit of a bondage queen.

"OOOHHHH!" she moaned as the first of several orgasms tore along her spine and exploded within her. She could feel her fur stand on end as she tried to buck against the 'pebbles,' helpless before their gentle onslaught. Every spot on her body was being massaged at the same time as her world became an continuous ebb and flow of pleasure. The repeated orgasm exhausted her, and the continuous stimulation eventually overwhelmed her senses. Cassia's world went dark as she blacked out

* * * *

The Professor finished viewing the store's security camera footage for the fifth time. Since his family's disappearance two days ago he had been living on the edge of a very controlled panic. At first, he'd thought they'd been grabbed by some kind of mystic talisman, but his own spells confirmed the device was definitely technological and temporal in origin. Somehow, the chrome sphere was warping reality around the ponies, drawing them into it without physical harm in spite of the obvious compression effect on their bodies.

The Professor shook his head. What he most needed here was a bit of technology, something that could be easily augmented by magic. He quickly donned his thaumaturgical lab coat then gathered his instruments into a medium sized carpetbag. Almost as an afterthought, he picked up several stasis vials willed with a thick, viscous fluid and dropped them into his magically shielded carpetbag. Screeving a pentagram on the floor of his lab, he stepped into it, waved his wand and vanished. Moments later he found himself standing in front of a house in Regent's Park, London. A small sign on the mailbox read Hanover Terrace.

It was close to midnight, the perfect time to come calling at this particular address. He just hoped the owner wasn't in one of his moods. Walking up to the door, he rang the bell. There was a brief bit of shuffling, then the door opened and a little old lady poked her nose out into the night air. Seeing him, she brightened considerably.

"Well as I live... if it isn't the Professor. It's been ages." She pulled the door open wide. "Come in... Come in... I was just putting the kettle on for a spot of bedtime tea. Would you care for some?"

"Yes, I would," the Professor replied, "though I need to have a word with George first, if it's not too much trouble."

"Oh no trouble at all, Professor... right this way." The elderly woman closed the door behind him and guided him along a narrow hallway, past a flight of stairs leading to the second floor. She stopped at a door underneath the stairs and wrapped on it three times with the handle of her cane. "He should be up by now, though if I were you I wouldn't say anything about his books. With all the centennials they've been celebrating he's a bit touchy about them right now... Especially when they celebrate the ones he wishes he never wrote."

"I'll keep that in mind, Nana."

The old woman opened the door and called down into the darkness. "George... George, wake up you lazy lob... You've got a visitor."

"GO AWAY!" came a rather annoyed voice from the cellar.

Nana looked back up at the Professor and smiled. "Aye, he's awake. I'll bring your tea down as soon as it's properly steeped."

Thanking her, the Professor pulled a monocle from his carpetbag and fitted it into his left eye before proceeding down the stairs. The basement was dark as always, but the eyepiece allowed him to see everything in perfect detail, including the green luminescent figure of a rather elderly gentleman. He was dressed in a suit, with tie and waistcoat. He had a neatly trimmed moustache and his hair was carefully trimmed and combed back in a style reminiscent of the 1940's. He was sitting at a small writing desk scratching out some notes on a legal pad. The pen he used was out of ink, but that didn't seem to affect the intensity of his effort. Coming to the end of a page, he carefully tore it off and placed it face down on a neat pile of similar pages.

As the Professor reached the bottom step, it squeaked noisily. Annoyed by the sound, the elderly man whirled on the intruder, then smiled abruptly. "Professor... it's good to see you. How long has it been now, two... no three years since you last dropped by."

"Something like that. Why are you still living down here in the basement? You know that Nana doesn't mind having you around, even though she can't see you most of the time."

"Well... You know how it is," George snuffled. "Ghosts tend to bring down neighborhood property values. Besides, I really don't want it to get out I'm still hanging around. If it did I'd have para-psychologists and ghost busters crawling in through the chimney flue. Look what happened to Bob Lewis. His haunt became so crowded with these spiritual experts he decided to cross over, right when he was in the middle of his latest work. Then there's poor Oscar."

"Yes," sympathized the Professor. "I understand he's still in a vacuum bottle at a lab up near Cornwall."

"Disgraceful... Modern world won't leave even a dead man in peace. Not if there's a shilling or two to be made."

"How's your latest book coming?"

"Almost done," George replied, beaming. "By the end of the week Nana will have it in the post to that fellow in Maine. He'll do a rubbing of the pages, rework it a bit into his style then it's off to the publisher."

"It amazes me that you have no problem parting with your stories this way," the Professor commented.

George chuckled, his voice resonating in a hollow sort of way. "What choice do I have, old bean. Keep all these ideas locked up in my head for eternity? At least this way my work gets seen, after a fashion. It's so much more satisfying writing for oneself than for a paycheck. It makes the afterlife so... productive, if you get what I mean."

"Yes, I do."

"I nearly forgot to ask. How's that little family of beast-men you created getting along? Newspapers say you've added a horse-boy and some kind of android horse-girl to the mix."

"I wish you'd stop calling them beast-men. They're not escapees from one of your novels after all."

"Sorry... old habits and all. No offence intended."

"None taken," the Professor responded. "That's actually the reason I've come calling. I believe they've been kidnapped by a rogue time traveler. Do you still keep that infernal device down here?"

"Where else would I keep it?" George replied with a chuckle. He rose from the table and drifted over to a wall near the back of the cellar. "Second brick from the top, if you'd do the honors.

The Professor reached up and pressed in on the indicated spot. There was a click, then a heavy rumbling as one whole section of the basement wall slid down into the floor. It revealed a twenty by twenty room, roughly the size of a small garage. From the dusty tools lining the walls and shelves it wasn't difficult to see it was intended as a workshop. A large canvas tarp occupied the majority of the room, hiding something of rather unusual shape.

The Professor quickly pulled it aside to reveal a strange machine. At first appearance, it looked like a plush, red-cushioned smoking chair sitting in the middle of a large, brass bed frame. It didn't take much of a second glance to realize there was more too the strange contraption. Behind the chair was mounted a large, ornately-decorated, concave disk that could rotate on a shaft protruding from a rather complex mechanism nestled behind and around the padded chair.

George stood nearby, looking at the device with an expression of some satisfaction. "Haven't used it since 1932 when I was doing research for a future history. Rather wish I'd known about parallel worlds back then. My predictions might not have gone as far askew as they did."

The Professor examined the control system mounted in front of the chair. "I see you've added a few more levers and switches as well as altitude and position indicators."

"Yes." He replied, smile widening slightly. "I added a dimetional stabilizer system as well as a homing circuit so you always know how to get back from where you've been, regardless of which temporal flow you're following."

"But how...?"

"Oh, I did it all with Nana's help. Wonderful Girl. I'm so glad her father bought the place after I died. She use to work in a motorcycle shop," George explained, "and is very good when it comes to following directions."

"She reworked the controls for you?"

George shrugged. "Absolutely needed her, old bean, especially since I can't handle a wrench to save my after-life. Heaviest object I can manipulate nowadays is a pen, sans ink of course."

"Did somebody mention my name?" the old woman asked as she carried a tea service into the basement and set it on a nearby table. She was wearing a monocle similar to that of the Professor. She looked over at the two figures and saw the open wall, a slight look of disappointment tweaking her features..

"You're not planning on using George's infernal device, are you?"

"I'm afraid so, Nana," replied the Professor. "Time is of the essence."

George put his hand to his forehead and gave a ghostly groan of disgust.

The old woman huffed. "I thought as much... This is another one of your 'kamikaze, business before pleasure' social calls, isn't it? Well, you're not getting away from my evening tea scot-free young man."

"I'm not?"

"No you aren't," she replied with a menacing smile. She reached behind her and pulled something out of her apron pocket. "I have a thermos and I'm not afraid to use it."

* * * *

Clover wasn't sure if she were awake or asleep. The blue-furred pony looked around but could see nothing. There was no sound nor were there any stray odors in the air other than a heavy scent of lilac. Tentatively, she reached out. Her hand was abruptly stopped by a large mass of tightly woven threads that felt silky. She probed gently in all directions around her and quickly discovered she was completely encased by them. Despite this, the air was not stale, so breathing wasn't a problem. It made her feel a little bit like a caterpillar tucked away in a warm, soft cocoon.

Pushing against the fibers, Clover discovered that they were both flexible and extremely tough. The harder she pressed, the more they resisted her efforts. Focusing, she punched outward with a short boxing jab, testing the material. It merely stretched, then pushed back, taking its original shape. Obviously, she couldn't knock a hole in it. The pony girl thought for a moment. If she could make the strands brittle, then maybe she'd be able to break them.

Nodding to herself, Clover inhaled deeply, drawing in the heavy, lilac scented fragrance as she prepared to use her ice breath. Without warning she suddenly became dizzy. Her body shuddered and she felt a powerful warmth wash across her almost like a physical blow. It seemed to concentrate itself around her lower extremities and in her brain. She moaned softly, the way she often did when waking up from an intensely passionate dream. She wanted... No! She needed to feel someone making love to her.

She shook her head, trying to clear it and calm the sudden desperate need she felt. She drew in yet another deep breath. The sensation intensified and her need now became compulsive. Her last rational thought was that there was something about the scent, but it came too late. She was past thinking or, for that matter, caring. All she wanted now was release.

Reaching down, she stroked her fingers along her now swollen slit. They came away damp and her whole body tremored. The pony gasped, then moaned as she began vigorously rubbing herself with one hand while the other reached up to her nipples. They too were hard and swollen and extremely sensitive. Clover began kneading her breasts even as she arched her back. Her entire body was hot to the touch.

Desperately seeking relief, the blue-furred pony jammed two of her fingers into her pussy and began thrusting them in and out. She gasped, drawing in even more of the lilac scented air then moaned. Her hands seemed to be working on their own without any conscious thought from her.

Clover's thumb moved up and began brushing against her clit. She was caught in a sudden wave of pleasure like an electric shock and she began to cry out loud. "OH, OH, OH, OOOHHH... NO, OH, PLEEZEE, MORE...MORE...OH, AAAAHHHHH! HUFF...HUFF...MORE...MMMOOORRREEEE...GGAAHHNNNA CCUUMMMM!"

She screamed out her pleasure as a series of orgasms rolled across her like a freight train. The pony bucked and convulsed, driving her whole hand into her slickened mound. She shrieked once more in a long guttural whinny then passed out. Even unconscious, her hand continued to twitch, massaging her slit in preparation for the next round.

TO BE CONTINUED...