FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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.

_____________________________________________________________________________

THYME AFTER TIME - part 03

The Professor throttled back on the infernal machine and the disk behind him slowed its spin. He checked the instruments, confirming his temporal anchor was still functioning. In an emergency, he could hit a single button and the machine would be instantly dragged back from whence it came. He quietly wondered how many novice time travelers had been lost because they had hurled themselves into the time stream without such a device. Reaching down into a saddlebag mounted below the left armrest, he drew forth a chart. The Professor opened it and began scribing an arch between five distinct points using his finger.

The chart, printed in white, gold and silver on what looked like midnight blue velum was continuously shifting, even as he examined it. It was difficult to read. None of the waypoints indicated matched anything he'd seen so far. The Professor shut down the propulsion system in order to conserve energy while he tried to locate his present or even his past position on the chart. The machine bumped to a gentle stop. Peeking over the top of the diagram, he saw he was resting in what looked like a field of shrubs. They stretched for eons in every direction, all planted in nice, neat, orderly rows. Stars winked overhead and the horizon glowed with an ethereal quality.

"Can I help you?" asked a small voice.

The Professor looked around. Standing off to one side of the machine was a clean-shaven dwarf wearing a leather flying coat, scarf, skullcap and goggles. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"You're lost," the dwarf said, a knowing smile on his face.

"What makes you say that?" asked the Professor.

"Well... the very fact you're here... smack dab in the middle of the undergrowth and small shrubs department. No one ever comes down here deliberately, unless they work here that is." The dwarf walked over to the machine and ran a hand appreciatively across one of the brass rails. "Nice hog you've got here. Post Verneian technology, isn't it, mid-1890's?"

"I suppose so," the Professor replied

The dwarf nodded to himself. "They don't make classic tech like this anymore. Today, it's all plastic, aluminum and chronotron particles. You want the good stuff, you've got to go back a few years." He paused and looked up at the Professor. "So... How can I help you?"

"I don't know if you can, unless you know how to read one of these," the Professor replied, holding out the chart. The dwarf scanned it for a moment or two then chuckled.

"Well... No wonder you're off track. You have the display set for the wrong spar."

"The wrong what?"

"The wrong spar... the wrong spoke of the cosmic wheel." The dwarf reached up and pressed on a corner of the chart. The display shifted becoming a lot easier to read. A bright red dot suddenly appeared in the upper left quadrant of the chart. Next to it flashed the words 'You Are Here.'

"You seem to know quiet a bit about chronological navigation."

The dwarf smiled at the compliment. "Nothing to it really. I use to have one of these myself," he said, pointing at the map. "It even showed where and when all the holes were so you didn't need to supply your own transport."

"So why are you here instead of out there some-when, exploring the cosmos?" asked the Professor.

The dwarf shrugged. "Been there, done that... Besides, confronting evil in its lair isn't what it's cracked up to be. As a famous adventurer once said, 'It tends to make one late for supper.'"

"I can imagine," the Professor responded. "One last question, if that's alright."

"Ask away."

"I'm trying to track someone who might be another time traveler. Is there anywhere I can go to get information about him, her or it?"

"You might try visiting the Guardian. He's pretty much omniscient, at least as far as the time stream is concerned; though I wouldn't recommend .it."

"Why not?"

"Ninety-nine percent of those who set out to visit him are never heard from again," the dwarf cautioned. "However, if you insist, which I have a feeling you will, you can find him at Navigational Chart Coordinate seventeen, spar line zero-one. That's only three spars across from this one," he added. "Just make sure that if you meet him, don't ask him about the birth of time."

"Why not?" asked the Professor.

"Because," replied the dwarf, "the last thing we need is another Big Bang! We've had three already in the last thirty-seven billion years and it tends to clutter up the place."

* * * *

Cinnamon opened her eyes to a horrendous stink. Sitting up, she discovered she was resting on a small swampy island of grass surrounded by bubbling pools of slime. "Aw HELL NO!" she muttered recognizing the place. Something grabbed her from behind. She looked down to see a thick, slimy tendril had reached out from one of the pools and wrapped itself around her waist. Spotting a much larger island of grass nearby, the green-furred unicorn teleported out of the creature's coils, reappearing about fifty yards away.

She turned to look back at the creature and suddenly found herself face down in the grass as a different set of tentacles reached up, wrapped themselves around her ankles and yanked her hooves out from under her. Cinnamon found herself being dragged toward the bog. Desperately, she dug her fingers into the dirt. There was a bubbling hiss, and a large single eye opened off to her right. The grass itself grabbed her wrists and fingers, entangling her so thoroughly she couldn't move. To her disgust, she suddenly realized the grassy islands were actually part of a larger creature.

Another tendril reached out and wrapped itself around the top of her head, blocking her sight. Within seconds more tentacles had completely immobilized the unicorn, pinning her so she had no leverage, thus rendering her strength useless. Cinnamon felt herself being pulled spread eagle.

"#*^*&%^!!? MUDDER-FRAKING *&$#%^@" she yelled pulling uselessly against her captor... or captors. She couldn't really be sure if it was one or more creatures. Something pulled at her tail, lifting her rear slightly off the ground. Moments later, the unicorn girl felt something probing at her sex. It found her opening and smoothly slid in, using its own fluids to lubricate her passage. Cinnamon gasped. It didn't hurt. On the contrary it felt warm and comfortable, filling her just right and brushing continuously against her g-spot.

A second tentacle reached up above the first and found her tail-hole. Repeating the process, it gently slid in and out, tickling her along the length of the smaller passage. The unicorn's tail tuft flipped psychotically back and forth, reacting uncontrollably to the double stimulation. Cinnamon moaned, long and loud. She couldn't believe it. Here she was, being raped by some kind of extra-dimensional beastie and it felt damn good. Even the smaller 'grass' stalks got into the act, brushing back and forth against the nipples of her breasts until they were hard and stiff.

The green-furred unicorn began huffing as she felt herself building toward a massive orgasm. The tentacles were relentless, stimulating her patiently and continuously. Once they established a pattern of plunging in and out, they neither increased nor decreased their thrusts.

The first orgasm hit, causing her to spasm and shudder. Cinnamon began whining loudly as wave upon wave of ecstasy washed over her. She began spurting a stream of fluid from her nether lips. Gasping, she came to the end of her climax, only to discover another was rapidly building within her. Her initial feeling of revulsion was lost in a fog of pleasure. This was going to be a loooonnnnggg night.

* * * *

Cymbalaria carefully made her way down one of a dozen possible corridors. Without a schematic to follow, she had no idea where she might be able to find a terminal to hook into. She had already re-engaged her cloaking device; despite the tremendous power drain it put on her systems. She estimated she could maintain it for thirty minutes. What happened after that was anyone's guess.

It didn't take her long to conclude that the time vessel's size made it not unlike a maze. Therefore, it would be logical to proceed as if it really were a maze. Reaching out with her left hand, Cymbalaria touched one wall and began tracing a path that kept her hand in contact with the wall at all times. Given time and patience enough, she would be able to trace her path without becoming disoriented. Eventually, it would lead her someplace she needed to go.

One thing the android pony did note. The corridors were only dimly lit, as if the ship's central computer was trying to conserve power. To most that might indicate there was only a finite amount of energy available, the majority of which probably went to maintaining the stable pocket universe in which she and the others had found themselves. She thought about that for a microsecond. Logically, anyone with sufficient power to manipulate time and space on this large a scale shouldn't have to worry about energy utilization. Not, unless, they were inherently frugal to begin with.

Cymbalaria stopped and listened for a moment. She could hear a soft hum coming from around the next corner. A small hatch slid back in her shoulder as she launched a small, disc-shaped camera drone. She guided it up toward the ship's overhead before carefully steering it around the corner. The image it transmitted back to her core processor was interesting to say the least. The corridor ended abruptly in a small alcove. Standing in the middle of it was a large, black rectangular obelisk. Scans from the camera indicated the object was nine feet in height, four in width and one in depth.

As she watched, the surface of the rectangle began to ripple, like water on a perfectly still pond. Moments later, the Maestro stepped out of it. The collie-fem was dressed in an ankle-length; cream-colored silk nightgown that, while it was opaque, hugged her so tightly in places the outline of her nipples could easily be traced. Over this she wore a thin, rose-colored, gossamer robe with a white corsage pinned to it. Her feet were encased in a pair of white, silk slippers. In one hand she carried a silver ice bucket containing a chilled bottle of champaign. The other held two, long stem glasses. Her intent could not be more obvious, especially when the android noted she was heading in the direction of Cyanide's room.

The collie strolled around the corner and passed the cloaked android, humming softly to herself. Her expression was one of dreamy anticipation. Cymbalaria waited silently until she was out of sight, then approached the obelisk, examining it from a distance. Her scans would not penetrate the material. After several moments of careful consideration, she reached out with one hand and brushed it lightly against the strange object. The tips of her fingers vanished into the rectangle. She pulled her hand back easily then probed the object more deeply. As she stood there she heard a soft whistle. Nodding to herself, and convinced it was relatively safe, the android threw caution to the wind and stepped into and through the obelisk.

* * * *

Living with the girls, Cyanide had gotten use to being woken up at odd hours, either to deal with an emergency, or to help one or more of them blow off some steam. It therefore wasn't too unusual when he was awakened by a soft, yet insistent knock on the door. He opened the door to find Maestro Thyme standing before him, scantily clad and champaign in hand. He smiled slightly in satisfaction. He had seen the 'hungry' expression in the collie's eyes earlier and was anticipating her nocturnal visit. He whistled softly in appreciation, pitching his voice into the subsonic range so Cymbalaria would hear the signal. The Maestro's ears blushed slightly at what she thought to be a compliment.

"I hope ye dinna mind, but I thought ye micht like something to go alang with yer dinner," she said, batting her eyelashes coquettishly as she practically swept into the room.

Cyanide looked at the collie, one eyebrow slightly cocked higher than the other. "That's... uh, nice," he replied, scratching the back of his head with one hand. "What did you have in mind?"

She smiled again, making no effort to hide the not so subtle gleam in her eyes. "Tis been a powerfully long time since there's been a male aboot ma ship..." she glanced down at the chimera's rather considerable 'package' and unconsciously licked her lips. "And I thought ye wadna object ta a bottle o' wine and ma company."

Cyanide almost chuckled. This had to be the most direct proposal anyone had ever made to him. Add to that, it came from someone who was nearly twice and again his own age; not that it was a problem. Despite her maturity the Maestro looked like she had a body that would make a fashion model jealous. There was something else as well. Cyanide thought he smelled alcohol on her breath. He guessed that she must have had a drink or two before coming to his room. If so, he could use that to his advantage. Cymbalaria would need time to search the ship... keeping the Maestro occupied could help he thought.

Closing the door behind her, the black-furred chimera accepted a glass from the collie and smiled as she skillfully popped the bottle's cork and filled it. The champaign had a light amber color to it and a subtle effervescence. They gently tapped glasses and each took a sip.

"Delicious," observed Cyanide. "I don't know much about wines, but you've a talent for choosing them. You must have a rather large wine cellar onboard."

The collie smiled at the compliment. "Na really. I mean, I could hae ane if I wanted, but it is nae necessary."

"It isn't? Then how do you get this kind of quality?"

"Nocht ta it really," the Maestro replied. "I just go back in time ta a good year, buy a bottle or twa, then put thaim in a room whaur the time differential allows it ta age nicely in the course o' an hour or so."

"Really?" asked Cyanide, joining the Maestro in taking a few more sips. "So you can create smaller pocket dimensions within the one that makes up this time ship?"

The collie wrinkled her muzzle in mild disapproval. "Ach! Please dinna call it a 'time ship.' That's ta plebeian. Call it whit it is... a chrono-sphere."

The pony reached down and deftly refilled both their glasses, making sure to give the Maestro a couple fingers more than he took himself, hiding the fact by grasping his glass around the top rather than the stem. "Alright then... to the chrono-sphere," he toasted, taking a healthy sip. "Though to be honest, I would have given it a grander name than that."

"Oh really?" the Maestro said taking a delicate swallow of champaign. "And whit wad ye hae called it?" she asked.

"Susan!"

The collie abruptly choked on her drink then broke out in a long, barking fit of laughter. "Ye hae a wee bit o' fun with that," she giggled. I dinna think Sherman wad put up with ye naming his ship after a lassie."

"His ship?" Cyanide asked.

"Well... for all and good, the ship is his body, so ta speak. I mean he is the brain and the sphere is his body, though he does what I tell him. I command the brain, the brain commands the body. Easy enough, dinna ye think?"

"I guess so... I wouldn't presume to judge either way."

"That's whit I like about ye," the collie said, her voice shifting to a rather sultry tone as she sidled closer to the Chimera. "Ye hae an open mind, unlike yir friends." She paused when she saw the pony scowl slightly. "Oh... please dinna misunderstand. The girls are all nice enough and I like haein' thaim as ma guests, but tis ye that interests me most. Ye get along with thaim so well because ye hae an understanding soul. Ye knows whit a lassie wants... whit a lassie... nae a woman needs, and yir generous enough tae give o' yirself whan asked."

"So... what are you asking for, exactly?" Cyanide responded cautiously, trying to draw the Maestro out.

Instead of responding the collie placed a hand delicately on the pony's chest and brought her lips together with his. It had been a very, very long time since she'd been with a male of any species and the desire that glowed within her began to flare brightly obscuring every other thought.

* * * *

Cymbalaria looked around her. The chamber she now found herself in was about fifty feet across. It was domed and the entire curved wall was lined with identical black obelisks. Pausing, the android took a nano-second to count. There were thirty-five of the objects, all spaced evenly around the room. Turning, she faced the obelisk through which she had just passed. Leaning forward, she stuck her head and shoulders through, confirming visually it returned to the corridor from which she'd just departed.

Standing upright once more, Cymbalaria inspected the room. Each portal must lead to a different part of the ship. Such a transport system was logical, considering that the ship itself occupied its own dimension. The physical size must be enormous, relative of course to the volume of the dimension. The android paused, feeling what she quickly identified as a growing sense of trepidation. In all her experience, she had never before been confronted with anyone or anything that could command such power.

She quickly focused back to the task on hand. She needed to find a computer outlet with which to link. Scanning the deck, she shifted her visual sensors into the infrared range. After a moment or two, she spotted the quickly fading heat trail of the Maestro's passing. Backtracking, she followed it to an obelisk seven positions to her left. It took only three nano-seconds for her to memorize the layout of the room enough to remember from which obelisk she had entered.

Stepping forward, she found herself in the alcove of a rather large bedroom. Modern in styling, it could easily put the finest hotel penthouse suits to shame. The décor was decidedly feminine and included an oversized canopy bed, a decorative chifforobe, a sitting-room alcove and a large, contemporary styled fireplace complete with fax-flames. Cymbalaria wondered why the Maestro was not entertaining Cyanide here, in the comfort of her own chambers. She carefully examined the room, inch by inch, before discovering a hidden switch under the mantle above the fireplace.

Touching it caused a portion of one wall to slide back, revealing a small alcove. Sitting in the center of it was a console. At least a dozen and a half indicators and monitoring instruments provided a constant stream of information. The android carefully examined it. She quickly spotted a universal input jack on the lower left side of the console. Withdrawing a cable from her wrist, she plugged it into the jack and began trying to access the computer.

Focusing, she managed to work her way through a fairly simple user code and two firewalls before encountering major resistance. An anti-virus program was blocking every potential pathway into the main operating system. She scanned for a backdoor and after several nano seconds found three identical access files. Choosing one, she opened it to find herself standing in front of an ancient castle. A large number of colorful tents dotted the area in front of the drawbridge. To her left were a set of lists used for jousting and what looked like viewing stands. Small triangular flags hung from the stands, each bearing a different crest. At the center of the stands was a royal box containing three high-backed chairs. The largest of these was padded in royal blue and contained a crown embroidered in the center of the velvet backing. In the chair sat a small, red-haired human boy wearing a jester's outfit and large, horn-rimmed glasses. He looked over at the android pony with mixed curiosity and contempt.

"Well, well, well. Will wonders never cease?" He jumped lightly off the chair and climbed on the railing. "Look who's trying to hack my system? What are you... an android with a class six A.I rating?"

"Modified class fourteen, if you must know," Cymbalaria responded. "You're Sherman I take it."

"No...Just his avatar. I'm the gatekeeper for this access route. He put me here after the Maestro installed a new game program and this back door was discovered."

The android looked at the scenery then recognized it. "Knights and Dragons?"

"Version 2.5. Have you played it before?"

"With my friends...yes. I wasn't aware the gaming company had come out with anything beyond version 1.3."

The boy laughed. "They didn't. I made a few modifications so it would be more interesting. Unfortunately, the Maestro only played it once or thrice before becoming tired of losing all the time." The expression on his face mirrored the disappointment in his voice. Looking at Cymbalaria he suddenly brightened. "You know... You might make an interesting opponent. Care to play?"

"Sorry... I don't have time right now."

"Let me guess... You're trying to access the mainframe, right? Trying to use the back door through this game?"

The android pony did not respond for a moment or two. "Perhaps," she replied finally.

"Good. I'll make you an offer. Stay a few nano-seconds and take me on in a one on one challenge. If you win, I'll let you through the backdoor."

"And if I lose?" the pony asked warily.

"I modify the game and make you a permanent part of it." The boy-jester watched for a moment or two as she considered. He snapped his fingers and she suddenly found herself surrounded by a dozen full-sized rock-trolls. "It will be easier than trying to fight your way through," he assured her.

Cymbalaria looked at her opponents then nodded at the boy. "Agreed."

The rock-trolls vanished and the boy jumped down off the spectator's box to stand in front of her. "Good!" He snapped his fingers again and she suddenly found herself wearing a full set of plate armor and armed with a shield, a sword belt complete with sword and scabbard, and a large battleaxe in her right hand.

Smiling, the boy then spread his arms wide. His small form began to blur and stretch outward. In moments he had transformed himself into a gigantic, red-scaled dragon.

"Hey... That's not fair!" the android responded backing away and looking skeptically at her battleaxe.

"Fair s'mare!" the dragon roared. "My game... My rules. Now... HAVE AT THEE!" The forty-ton behemoth charged at the pony.

TO BE CONTINUED...