Back to the Future (Washington, DC, 2019 A.D.)

Author's Note: At the suggestion of a reader, this story now allows you to choose your own name for the protagonist. This is my first story on this site, and so I'm very open to new ideas as I'm still figuring things out. I would also love to hear any feedback. I have done my best to leave obvious branch points so that if anyone else has any ideas they would like to contribute at any point, feel free, that's the beauty of this site! Thanks to everyone who has been reading so far.

The Professor somewhat reluctantly made the decision to return to somewhere close to his time. He couldn’t go back to exactly the same time and place, obviously, given the heat from the authorities. He was hoping that his changes in Ancient Egypt would fix all that, but he certainly couldn’t count on it. He settled on Washington, DC in the year 2019, before authorities began to suspect him. That way, if necessary, he could control an employee at DARPA or some other similar agency and get them to bring him any tech or materials he needed to upgrade his Time Travel Device. So, once he’d made the necessary preparations, and received a **** goodbye blowjob from his Pharoah Fuckslave as she attempted to convince him to come back soon, he activated his device.

A moment later, he popped into existence in a secluded, forested area. He had set his location for Rock Creek Park, hoping there would be no one there to watch a guy carrying a heavy backpack blink into existence out of nowhere. Thankfully, this seemed to be the case, and he began to walk out of the park.

The Professor's excitement began to build as he walked at the prospect of seeing what changes his fuckfest three and a half millennia earlier had wrought on the reality he had known. What if he really had managed to completely transform society? But he tried not to get his hopes up. If it hadn’t worked, he would just recharge his device and try again.

The first person he passed on the path was a female jogger, and when he realized what she was wearing, he immediately grew hard. The only thing she was had on was a sports bra. She had no bottoms whatsoever, nothing on to cover her shaved snatch. Stunned, he stopped and watched her pass. She just ignored him as she ran by, her bare skin shining with sweat. He watched her taut ass as she receded into the distance.

Well, something had worked! The jogger was clearly acting like this was all normal for her. He hurried forward, eager to reach the city streets.

When he exited the park into the nearest commercial street, what he saw took his breath away. It was still early, and the sidewalks and streets were only sparsely populated. But he could see several women from where he stood, and at least a few of them were completely naked. The rest of them wore some clothes, but not very much. He saw several wearing only bras and panties. He also noticed right away that tattoos seemed very popular among the women, maybe as an alternative means of personal expression in the absence of clothing. Most of them were in pretty good shape… he supposed that knowing you wouldn’t be able to cover it up gave you a good incentive to keep off the flab.

The Professor took a second to get over his initial excitement, but once he did he realized that something felt a little off. There were at least as many men on the street as women, many wearing suits or other business attire. They did not seem to notice anything particularly strange about the naked women around them, nor did the women seem to be treating them with any particular deference. Surely if a woman walked down the street naked, he thought, they were a sexual plaything for men?

Instead, he watched a middle-aged man and woman walk past him while having a conversation, he in a suit, she in a matching bra and panties. Each of them carried an expensive-looking briefcase.

“I’m hoping to have you check my figures on the Watson Account,” the man was saying. “You’re more detail oriented than me.”

“I’ll try,” the woman said, absent-mindedly adjusting her bra strap with her free hand. “But I’ve got three sales meetings today and my assistant’s still out on Paternity Leave.”

They arrived at the door of a nearby office building, and the man opened the door and held it for the woman, waving her inside ahead of him.

The Professor was left confused by this exchange, so he looked around to find someone he could talk to alone and maybe get some answers. He noticed a blond girl, probably in her 20s, walking down the sidewalk toward him. She had curves in all the right places, just his type, and perfect, huge, round breasts. They were absolutely made for titjobs, he thought. She wore only a necklace and sunglasses, and had several prominent tattoos on her arms.

“Miss!” he called out to her. “Uh, Miss!”

The girl with the amazing tits stopped and turned to look at him expectantly. “Yes? Can I help you?”

The Professor decided to improvise. “Do you, um, have time for a quick survey?” He pulled out his “pen,” aka his portable visual recalibrator, in case he needed to mime taking notes.

She looked back over her shoulder for a moment, then turned back to him. “Well, OK. As long as it’s quick, I have to get to work.”

If this girl did anything other than titfucked for a living, it was a complete waste, he thought. It seemed like he still had work to do.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

“It’s Jessie,” she replied, sounding bored already.

“If this is too personal, just tell me,” he said, “but can I ask why you’re not wearing clothes?”

The girl considered this for a moment, then shrugged. The way that made her breasts move almost distracted the Professor from hearing her answer.

“I guess that’s just how my parents raised me,” she said. “Men wear clothes, women don’t. But it’s not like I’m saying we should all be in the kitchen making them sandwiches or something. I’m just comfortable being a woman, and that’s OK.”

While pretending to write down her response, The Professor asked, “But what about all the other women wearing bras and panties on the street today?”

“Oh, I know how it goes,” she said, “trust me. Modern women wear panties. Modern women don’t need men to open the car door for them. Modern women can have it all. Well, I can be just as much of a girlboss while naked, thank you. Just look at Taylor Swift, she makes it work.”

The Professor almost choked at that one and had to stifle a coughing fit. He’d have to look into Ms. Swift’s fashion choices in this new world later on. But first he needed to figure out what exactly he had changed.

“So,” he said matter-of-factly, “if I asked you to get down on your knees and suck my cock, what would you’d response be?”

“What the fuck?” she growled. “Screw you, pervert!” Furious, she pulled off her sunglasses to glare at him. “I’ll have you know that I’m a good Christian girl, and I’m saving myself until marriage.” She held up one hand to show her “Promise Ring.”

The Professor sighed. He lifted the visual recalibrator and pointed it at her face. He had a lot of work to do.

*********

The Professor sat at the desk in the large penthouse suite at a four-star hotel that Jessie had paid for. She kneeled beneath the desk in front of him, her huge, soft boobs wrapped around his dick. She stared up at him adoringly as she slowly stroked him.

Though her ministrations were certainly pleasant, his primary attention was focused on his laptop screen as he trawled through Wikipedia. Things were worse than he thought. There was even a female President. He found a picture of an older Black woman speaking to a crowd from a podium marked with the Presidential seal, dressed in white lingerie.

The Professor kept reading, and as he did so, this new timeline came into focus a little bit more. Somehow, his changes to clothing in Ancient Egypt created a ripple effect that resulted in it being considered “traditional” for women to go naked in public. Greece had copied Egypt in this regard, Rome had copied Greece, and the rest of Europe had it imposed on them by Rome and, in turn, imposed it on the rest of the world. He found plenty of old black and white photos of Victorian ladies, 1920s flappers, and old movie stars, all completely naked and with no compunction about being photographed that way.

So now, it was considered more conservative and even “formal” for women to go completely nude (he spent several minutes going down a rabbit hole of the formalwear choices at the most recent Oscars), while it was considered more feminist and modern to at least wear underwear.

What had not caught on, it seemed, was the actual message that women’s natural state was being sexually dominated by men. Though Hatshepsut was still known as the “Whore Queen” (there was a particularly famous large statue of her on her hands and knees currently displayed in the British Museum, getting railed from behind by a muscular man) her reforms regarding gender relations did not last beyond her immediate successors as Pharaoh. Now, women’s rights were, if anything, more advanced, maybe because fewer women in this timeline were held back by shame of their bodies? He was just guessing.

The Professor pondered this. What had gone wrong?

“Master,” Jessie said softly and demurely, without skipping a beat with her tits, “I know that I told you I was waiting to get married, but, um, I would very much like it if you would be willing fuck my brains out.”

“Shut up, bitch, I’m thinking,” The Professor told her.

A moment later, it came to him. He really did think better while his cock was being serviced, he had forgotten that while he was in prison. Hatshepsut and Jessie, with his help, both loved their natural roles. But other, not-controlled women, ones he hadn’t helped yet, only acted submissive because they thought they had to. They didn't realize how much happier they would be, and so they didn’t actually want to be submissive sluts, Thus, just as in the original timeline, women throughout history had rebelled against staying in their place, with the same results.

Jessie, whose amazing fuckpillows were lovingly massaging his cock, had been choosing not to have sex, because her religion told her that was the right thing to do. She believed her abstinence made her a good person. The Professor suddenly realized, as felt his orgasm near, that this was the key. He needed to make women believe that it was inherently good to give in to being dominated by men. That the most morally upright thing a woman could do was let a man fuck her asshole and spit in her mouth. Not just a few, key women, but women in huge numbers. And so he started to form a plan.

The Professor did not think that Jessie's religion sounded very fun from his perspective. But what if he could somehow replace that religion with one that was a lot more fun?

He groaned at Jessie’s ministrations. “You’re good at this. What do you do for a living, bitch?” he asked her.

“I work on the Hill, I’m an Aide in a Congressman’s office,” she replied.

Of course she was. “Today you’re going to go in and quit,” The Professor said, “and get a job where you’re not wasting your biggest asset, your tits. Maybe stripping? No, that doesn’t seem like you would have that in this timeline. You’ll figure it out. Do you understand, bitch?”

He came then, spurting all over her face and breasts. Some sprayed in her eyes, and she started blinking, but she kept massaging him with her huge knockers until she had squeezed out every drop she could.

“Yes, Master,” she said with a smile. “Of course, that makes perfect sense.”

The Professor had preparations to make. And in the meantime, it occurred to him that he had an insanely hot woman begging him to take her virginity, maybe in a bit he would do something about that. He hoped that, once his new plan went into motion, the course of Jessie's life would be completely different, and she would have lost her virginity well before she reached age 27. Or maybe she would never have existed? He wasn't entirely clear on how all that worked. In any case, it was the principle of the thing.