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Just in the Schlick of Time [Seeking literate female writers]

db cooper's insurance plan

Banned
Banished
Joined
May 9, 2017
Some of the details are fuzzy, but as far as you can recall:

Three months ago a woman tries to introduce a golf club to your thalamus while her husband shouts that “it’s not what it looks like,"

72 years ago, you sputter around the cock of a Nazi corporal in the back of a train bound for Birkenau, and

103 years before that, you scream yourself to an orgasm while a Zulu chieftain is buried balls deep inside your clenching ass.

Divorcing yourself from your dubious “gift” was impossible- you tried isolation in a locked room, loading up on mountains of coffee, staying with friends… nodding off was a prescription for a spacetime rollercoaster. No matter where or when you woke up, the end result was the same- sore everything and a desperate desire to get to a shower.

Frankly, it was exhausting.

Just a few weeks ago you would have sacrificed anything for a chance to experience history books in the flesh. Now that you’ve actually been a sacrifice- twice- your glasses are tinted more jade than rose. Metaphorically speaking, of course, seeing as you do happen to look quite smashing in the pair currently on your nose. You certainly managed to catch the eye of the neanderthals roaming the school library… and the ones roaming Lascaux.

The difference was that the modern ones roused nothing more than your disdain, while the cave men managed to tear you out of your “This is What a Feminist Looks Like” shirt and make you beg them to fuck you for the fifth time. Not even in English at that point- just nonsensical grunts. Man, you must have looked like a braindead brain dispenser. For the hundredth time.

Something about the time travel (or hormonal delusion, or whatever it was) was clearly to blame for turning you from respectable librarian into nymphomaniacal cockslut, but it was impossible to do investigative work when all you could think about was getting filled.

Yes, history sucked almost as much as you did throughout history. But the icing on the cake was that the only way to get back to your original time was to orgasm. More specifically, to get some guy- or some absurd number of guys- to do so in you. Or on you. Or on you and in you, ad nauseam.

Just reminiscing was enough to make you pine for the quiet nights alone on a comfy bed, your nose buried in a book instead of some guy’s pelvis. You just needed to rest your eyes for a second.

When you open them a “second” later, you can see the sun setting in the exact space that the window- and the rest of the university- used to be.

Goddammit.

TL;DR- Longtime bibliophile takes her love of history to a new level courtesy of this one weird trick.

Expiration Date: Sometime in the nebulous future- which our protagonist is going to have a pretty damn tough time getting to at the rate (or acceleration- or jerk, for that matter) she's going.
 
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