87 (Kingdom of Pennsylvania, 2024 A.D.)

The girl kneeled on the floor several paces behind her owner, eyes unfocused, and waited. Her hair, a deep natural blue, cascaded down over her shoulders. Her enormous tits moved up and down slightly with her breathing. Left to its own devices, her mind drifted to cocks. That happened a lot. She really wished there was a cock inside her. As usual, there was a wet heat between her thighs. But she couldn’t do anything about it, could not move. Her owner had told her not to move.

She had no name, as most men felt it was a bad idea to give women names. It contributed to the delusion held by a few sensitive souls that they were people. Instead, she was only identified by the tattoo on her right perfect, round ass cheek. As she was a cunt in service to the royal house, it consisted of the coat of arms of King Brad V of Pennsylvania, a bimbo rampant above three eagles, with the number 87 in gothic-style script below. Her full, proper designation, then, was “The 87th Cunt of King Brad V,” though the King and any other man, to the extent they ever wanted to distinguish her from any other girl, just called her “87.”

Without turning around, the man in front of her, the King, clicked his fingers. She scrambled to her feet and rushed forward, filled with sudden hope that he might wish her to kneel beneath his table and suck him off as he ate. The King, a not particular handsome man with a large gut, sat at one end of a long table, heavily ladened with food and drink. The King had been speaking with a delegation from Ohio, but the details of such things only confused 87.

“Get the cellars to bring another bottle of the new red,” he said, raising an empty goblet.

She bowed her head deeply. Though a part of her was disappointed by the banality of his request, obedience never failed to give her a deep, visceral tingle. She lived for that feeling. Then she turned to hurry off, and as she did, the King slapped her hard on the ass. No man could know the ripples of pleasure that sent through her cunt. How her knees half-buckled at the feeling. No woman could tell them.

The King and the other men laughed. She hurried off to the cellars.

*****

The Professor knew something was off when he arrived back in the present day. The first clue was that he had landed in what should have been the middle of the D.C. metropolitan area, and instead found himself in the middle of a forest.

He had worried so much about preventing the elastic timeline from snapping back into place, he soon realized, that he had not thought of what happens when the elastic finally snaps.

After a good amount of searching, he found a road and, figuring it would lead to civilization, began to follow it. Several hours later, absolutely exhausted, he arrived at what seemed like an inn. Inside, he found a pair of incredibly hot, nude, and silent female servants, tatooed on their asses with marks that might have indicated ownership, serving a handful of guests some unappetizing-looking stew and filmy ale. There was no electricity anywhere to be found.

Somehow, his changes seemed to have made it so that humans did not progress beyond approximately a medieval level of technological progress. The Professor couldn’t figure out how this could have happened. Surely, women had not been such great contributors to scientific progress before that their absence had torpedoed it? Had he misjudged them? No, it must be something else.

He just needed to sleep. Within an hour, he caught one of the patrons heading to the privy alone and controlled him into giving him all of his gold. This he used to pay the innkeeper for a room for a night, though he had to wait for the middle-aged man to finish nutting inside the ass of a redheaded serving girl. Though the girl never made a sound, from the way she began shaking uncontrollably on the man’s cock, she seemed to have come very hard from the experience. The way her orgasm made her ass vibrate almost made The Professor forget how tired he was, but not quite.

He collapsed on a very uncomfortable bed made of hay. Clearly he needed to fix this. He couldn’t see any way in this timeline to get more fuel for his Time Machine, for one. How many jumps did he have left? And if he did jump back to stop himself from letting the retrovirus out, how would that work? Could he just walk up to himself and tell himself to stop? Or would that blow up the universe somehow?

It was hard to think. Probably he just needed some rest.

*****

Later that day, 87 was sent into the village to retrieve supplies, as the King and the Ohio delegation had used up much of the castle’s stores. Most owners would not send their women out alone, but she belonged to the King, and anyone else who fucked her without the King’s permission risked ****. She could not read the list she had been given, but she had received a quick set of instructions from the Elder Cunt in the one-handed sign language the women used to communicate simple ideas among themselves, and all she had to do was hand the list to the shopkeepers and then haul back whatever they gave her.

She usually enjoyed these excursions because, even though they could not touch her, she did enjoy it when the men of the village looked at her. All cunts had great tits and hot asses, it was true, but only the very best in the kingdom were usually selected to belong to the King. Men’s lust for her always felt so good.

Unfortunately, this was one of those increasingly frequent trips into the village where there weren’t as many men as usual, especially young men. They were always being sent off to one war or another. She was pretty sure that the current war was with the Kingdom of Ohio, but she didn’t think too much about it. It didn’t concern her. One day that war would end and there would be another war somewhere else. She honestly didn’t get it. Men were always off having wars when they should be fucking her, but they must know what they were doing. They were men, after all.

First she went to the butcher, who took her order while his house cunt deep throated him under the counter. 87 couldn’t see the girl, just hear the occasional pop or slurp. She knew that she should be grateful to be one of the King’s harem, and she was, but sometimes she fantasized about being a peasant cunt who had cocks to serve all day every day. The King’s attention was divided among so many women, and even though he had favored 87 at one time or another, she didn’t get fucked nearly as much as she wanted it. Honestly, she wanted it all the time. Even blowjobs were enough to get her going, actually.

Judging by the increased heavy breathing going on beneath the counter, it was enough to get the butcher’s housecunt going, too.

“Cunt, did you just come from sucking my cock?” the butcher asked. “Now you’ve squirted everywhere. Lick it up!”

Fuck, 87 knew that feeling. To be so lost in subservience to a cock that you orgasm. It was the best. She was so jealous.

*****

The Professor woke up, his brain still feeling like he was in a fog. He needed to figure things out. But first, breakfast. He dragged himself out of his bed (the only furniture in the room) toward the stairs heading down the main room of the inn. As soon as he reached the bottom, he noticed the handful of other men there, including the innkeeper, staring at him.

“How’d that cunt get those clothes?” growled one of the patrons.

The Professor looked down at himself, but he couldn’t see past the pair of E-cup tits stretching his t-shirt to the breaking point. What the fuck?

He tried to yell out precisely that, but no sound came out. Oh fuck. No vocal cords. Something had gone wrong. Something had gone wrong with the… whatchamacallit. The virus. It was so hard to think. Why was it so hard to think?

“She’s not one of mine,” the innkeeper said. “Never seen her before.”

Then a man was grabbing The Professor from behind. He (she?) tried to struggle, but he had no idea how this new body moved and his attempts to fight proved highly ineffective. The pack where he kept his mind control devices and his Time Machine fell the floor, ignored by the rest of those present.

The handful of other men present all set on him then, and none of the handful of women present made any move to assist him. The men tore off his clothes, despite his struggles, freeing his… freeing his new, amazing tits. The Professor was quickly distracted by a glance at his naked lower body as he tried futilely to kick himself free. His cock was gone. Oh god. What had happened to his cock!

“She’s got no marks,” one of the men commented. “A feisty one, though.”

One of the men then quickly rubbed his hand on The Professor’s new clit, and the feeling knocked her completely sideways. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. That light touch seemed to send every nerve in her body into ecstasy. The colors of the world ran. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she would have fallen if not for the man holding her up. Some corner of her mind realized she had switched pronouns in her head. No man had ever felt what she had just felt.

“That always calms down mine when they’re acting up,” said the man who had rubbed her.

The Professor was in shock as the men continued their poking and prodding. They examined her teeth, then pulled apart the folds of her pussy, which almost made her go limp again. At this point, the men were baffled to discover that she was “still unspoiled,” which resulted in a great deal of discussion. She tried to think. She would figure this out, she just needed her inventions. She just needed…

“If she’s not claimed, I’ll take her now,” the largest of the men said, but then another put out a hand.

“No, dumbass, you know the law,” he said. “She doesn’t belong to us. We have to call the cuntcatchers.”

They locked The Professor in a closet to wait for the authorities to collect her, along with several crates of what appeared to be rapidly aging vegetables. She spent a few minutes desperately trying to open the door. She had to get back to her equipment and fix… she knew that she could fix this, but she was so… so horny.

She tentatively reached down and touched her own clit for the first time. She would have screamed at the sensation if she could. She collapsed on the floor of the closet and started rubbing herself. In a few minutes, she came, but it wasn’t like every time she had come before. She genuinely was unable to control her limbs for multiple minutes, all of her impulses overridden by pure pleasure.

The Professor had no idea how long it took the cuntcatchers to come to collect her. However long it was, she spent the time completely lost in an orgasmic haze, her equipment forgotten.

*****

When 87 brought the King his nightly draught of warm milk that evening, as prescribed by the royal barber to combat his gout, she found him already in bed with 94 atop him, the royal cock in her cunt. Though 87'soverriding feeling, as was often the case, was that of being incredibly turned on at the sight of a girl used as a fucktoy, she had to admit that there was a part of her that felt jealousy.

There had been a time when she was the King’s most frequent choice for a quick nut. But 94 was newer, and the platinum-haired girl was a pedigreed bimbo from an expensive breeding house. The product of trait selection over several generations, she had tits so large she could barely walk and was so sensitive she could come almost immediately from the slightest stimulation. Only a true member of the elite could afford such a bimbo, as she was useless for any purpose except sex. At the moment, the girl was shaking in a seemingly continuous orgasm on the King’s cock, any remaining brains she might have had apparently leaking out of her pussy. 87 guessed this situation was very pleasurable for His Highness as well. She, on the other hand, had no pedigree, and had come to the King untrained. All of which was to say, 94 was both a hotter bitch than 87 and the King was far more likely to want to use her as a vessel for any further heirs.

87 waited just a moment longer than she otherwise might have, wishing that maybe the King would invite her to join in pleasuring him. Then she and 94 locked eyes, and the other girl stuck out her tongue at her in triumph, seemingly continuing to come all the while. Embarrassment overwhelmed 87 then, and she could feel her pussy moistening at the humiliation. Quickly, she replaced the King’s chamber pot with the fresh one she had brought and then left the room.

In the castle hallway, she saw 72 coming down the corridor toward her. The other girl was easily identifiable by her bright pink hair and tanned skin, both of which marked her as having come from exotic lands far to the South. The woman was carrying a large bag of washing to the west turret staircase.

72 had been kind to 87 ever since she arrived, as she was also an outsider. She had even taught her the one-handed sign language the women used among themselves. Unlike the super complicated way men talked, the sign language used only words cunts could understand.

“What bad?” signed 72 with her free hand.

“I need fuck,” 87 signed back.

The other woman gave her an understanding smile and replied, “I help later.”

She was true to her word later that night in the cuntstables. The two women shared a cot, heads between each other’s legs, licking intently. 87’s repeated orgasms soon merged into pleasant sleep. Her face nestled close to her friend’s pussy, the smell of female juices made her dream of cocks, as it always did. She loved cocks.

*****

The Professor spent the next few days in the back of a rickety wagon, hands bound, as the cuntcatchers who had collected her crossed over a low mountain range (the Appalachians?). Her captors mostly ignored her, as if she were just part of the background. She spent the free time trying to think about how to get back to her instruments, trying to make sure she knew the way back to that inn. It was very difficult, because her thoughts came so slowly. Not to mention that with her hands tied she couldn’t touch herself anymore and it was driving her crazy. The bouncing of the wagon sent vibrations up into her pussy that would have been pleasant had it not been for the fact that they only increased her unbearable arousal.

Eventually, they came to a small settlement in the hills beneath the walls of an imposing stone castle. The flags flying from the battlements bore what looked like a stylized woman with big tits. Her captors did not immediately deliver her to the castle, however, but to another, much less impressive building with dirt floors. They left her there with a broad-shouldered man with a long beard and another scrawny, much younger man, who paid the cuntcatchers a few coins for her and sent them on their way. She would soon learn that the older man was the local cuntbreaker, and the younger his apprentice.

They immediately strapped her face down into an elaborate wooden apparatus, which stretched out her limbs and left her ass hanging out in the air. She soon discovered the reason for this, as the cuntbreaker was very meticulous about explaining to her (in very simple words) what he was about to do to her.

He was not allowed to take her virginity, that was reserved for her future owner. But this would only make breaking her more of an interesting challenge. First, they fucked her up the ass. [name] was understandably perturbed about this at first, but almost immediately realized that her new body was absolutely made for her asshole to be filled. There was very little discomfort, and truly insane amounts of pleasure. Then they fucked her mouth, which took longer to get used to. The Professor had never deep throated anyone before, and gagged quite a bit, though she couldn’t make any noises as she did so and her captors thus kept right on going. Often, master and apprentice fucked both ends at the same time.

She tried to disassociate herself from what was happening to her physically and think through what had gone wrong. The virus must have had some kind of… you know, a problem when she went through time. Or she had made it wrong. She tried to think of how exactly she had done it and couldn’t quite recall. That seemed bad. Then she tried to remember how to work some of her mind control devices and couldn’t quite recall, either. That also seemed bad. But somehow, the bad felt more abstract than it should have. Her system was overwhelmed with other feelings, distracted by a flood of hormones.

Then her first orgasm with a cock in her ass hit her, and The Professor was not able to think about anything for several minutes. The next time, it was longer. Soon she found herself unable to string together full sentences in her head for hours at a time.

Suddenly, her captors stopped fucking her, which was even worse. The total absence of orgasms, after days of nothing but, especially after she had never experienced anything like a female orgasm until a few days earlier... it all hit her like a ton of bricks. The cuntbreaker had her untied from the apparatus, then slowly explained that he would now be giving her things to do for him and his apprentice. If she was a good cunt and did as she was told, they would fuck her and let her come. If not, they would spank her tits and ass and try again.

As things turned out, no spanking was required. The Professor found that her transformed body almost seemed to want to obey any instructions given to it. Certainly, doing what she was told felt far better than she ever remembered it feeling before. Though anything “before” was getting harder and harder for her to remember. First they had her weed their garden (hands still bound), then pull a plow behind her to furrow a field behind the cuntbreaker’s house. They had her sew a hole shut in one of his shirts and eventually even cook their dinner.

By this point, she had proved trustworthy enough that they had unbound her hands. She made no attempt to escape. Where would she go? It wasn’t like she could remember the way back to the inn. She needed more time. Time to think, time to…

After each of these jobs, she was rewarded with an assfucking. This was what got her through the long days. Each night, she collapsed into an exhausted, horny sleep. Her old timeline entered her thoughts, such as they were, less and less.

One day, a few months later, the cuntbreaker brought The Professor up to the castle. She was led into the expansive throne room, where the rotund King waited on his throne. He sized her up appreciatively.

“Your Majesty, I present a feral cunt found in the southern wilds,” the cuntbreaker announced. “She is untrained, but she remains a virgin at an age that appears to be well above twenty years. As you know, by the law of this Kingdom, this makes her the property of the Crown.”

“A rare find!” the King shouted appreciatively.

A few minutes later, not having moved from his throne, he ordered The Professor to approach and straddle him. She obeyed without thinking. Then the King told her to lower herself onto his fat cock. For the briefest moment, she hesitated. This was not who she was, who she had been. But even as she thought this, her body followed his instructions, and then she had a cock pushing through her hymen and filling her pussy. It was the happiest she could ever remember feeling.

Afterward, she was taken into another room, where a tattooist waited. On right ass cheek, they inscribed the coat of arms of her new owner, and below it her new designation: 87.

*****

The next afternoon, 87’s daily chores sweeping the castle floors were interrupted by instructions that the King had asked for her specifically. Thrilled to her core, she hurried to the throne room. There, she found the King talking and laughing with several members of the delegation from the Kingdom of Ohio. A few of the men who she knew to be some sort of advisors to the King sat or stood nearby.

“Great news, all!” the King proclaimed. “The two kingdoms of Pennsylvania and Ohio have made peace. The war is concluded!”

All the men present cheered. 87 didn’t super care one way or the other, but was glad the men were happy.

“Celebration is in order. I wish to share a rare gift with our new friends. A cunt who we captured in the Southern Wilds, the latest virgin any in this kingdom can recall. Though I of course deflowered her by my right, she remains a fine specimen of a bluehair, as you can see. She is yours for the day, my friends!”

Briefly, unbidden, a memory slipped into 87’s pretty little head then, of her traveling between places and times, setting things right. How had she done that? She couldn’t remember.

Then, the first of the four Ohio diplomats stepped forward and began to unbutton his trousers. 87 dropped to her knees. That was the last time she ever thought about her old life. Soon she took his cock in her mouth, and she didn’t think about anything else for quite a while.

Author's Note: I think this is the last I'll be writing on this story for now. I wanted to do a "good ending" where our hero gets what he wants and a "bad ending" where his own hubris leads to his... downfall? Anyway, I hope you all liked it, expect to see new stories from me soon, and hopefully you'll be seeing more in this story from other writers, as well.