Klotho - God of Timelines

"The secret to my success? That's easy. It's simply kindness. Kindness to my servants here in my realm and to all those with whom I do business. A lot of gods don't get that, you know? If you put good in, you get good out-- that's my motto. Whether mortal or god, we determine our own successes and guide ourselves, for good or ill. Trust me: I've seen the timelines!"

"Thank you so much, Miss Klotho, for your invaluable insight. You're so right. Why, sitting across from you now, I feel like the luckiest interviewer in the world! To think, I'm here, interviewing Myth Magazine's Time-Based Goddess of the Millennia: user-voted, editor approved! It's a real privilege. And... pardon me for being starstruck, but the pictures don't do you justice. You are stunning!"

The woman on the other side of the interviewer's camera giggled, waving one hand in a gesture of "oh stop it," with all of the undue modesty she could muster. There wasn't a better word to describe Klotho, the God of Timelines. She'd been in magazines before, but she never kept one look. The one constant was that she was always head-turning, eye-popping, and at the very peak of tasteful fashion. Today, she was owning a new style, with a white, half buttoned shirt, wrapped at the waist with a black leather belt and fastened with a silver buckle shaped like a clock, and wrapped once again at each breast with a taut suspender strap connected to her trousers. The snug black trousers were tugged up high by said suspenders, above her belly button, with a set of four silver buttons at the front. She accented the attire with a block-shouldered silver jacket, the kind of thing worn almost exclusively on fashion runways. About her neck, a black chocker with a working clock-face at its center. Atop her head, a silver, half-cocked top-hat, deliberately undersized, with eye-catching black plumage sticking up from one side. Upon her feet, very tall silver heels, which helped elevate her otherwise small stature. The woman had frozen her own timestream somewhere just before 20, capturing her youth eternally and allowing her to fit into all of the slender women's fashions of the season.

This wasn't to say she hadn't grown plenty before freezing. From the side profile, her body in the dress cut a very pleasant S shape, with a protruding bosom and shapely caboose, which she was happy to model for the handsome photographer that Myth Magazine's studio had sent over. Her skin was milky white and her eyes, with long black lashes, were half-shaded with striking, white pupils, offering very little color. What finally broke up that whole monotony of monotone was her hair, red and styled into an elegant poof about her shoulders with a tight braid wrapping the back. The girl's bright red lipstick even outshone the hair. She thought she looked like a movie star. Actually, she knew she looked like a movie star with one-hundred percent certainty, but she liked to be modest.

She curled her fingers, elegantly clad in white silk gloves, and produced a long, black cigarette holder from inside of her coat's pocket. "How'd we do with the interview, my good man?"

"Actually, Ms. Klotho, could you uh... whip us up some extra time, if you don't mind my asking? I've got so many more questions I'd like to ask! We could easily make this a six-page spread! How do you create time, anyway?"

"Oh, sweetie, you're slightly off the mark. What I do is not creating time or adding to it. Instead, I have the ability to see timelines and manipulate their flow... winding the threads around certain keystone events. Those keystones I consider unassailable: they are your grand life events, such as marriages, deaths, that sort of thing. I have the power to choose which threads wind into those points, altering all of our events for the finer. That is why I must say: you have to loosen up! This interview will go off perfectly because I'm as in control of it as you are," she chuckled, her eyes momentarily flashing with strange black lines in a web-like pattern. "Just now, I prevented you from asking a particularly embarrassing question for both of us by jumping us to a more appropriate timeline. No need to thank me!"

"Marvelous!" the man gasped, adjusting his glasses with an awe-struck expression. He didn't feel any different, but sure enough, there had been a moment when he'd considered asking if there was a special someone in her life. That must have been the question she didn't want to answer. It was hard not to ask it, when he noticed the distinct lack of a ring on her finger and the extremely alluring smile that curled beneath her ruby-red lipstick, as if constantly inviting him to do... something. He adjusted his collar, suddenly feeling a little hot, then tried to put his mind back on task. "Ahem. This place, Clockwork Eden, is a heaven you've created for you and your followers. I understand that you don't get a lot of visitors but that, oddly enough, those who do visit are often inclined to stay."

"Oh yes! Very exclusive guest list," the young-looking, but unbelievably old woman agreed. "I can't let too many people through our gates, or they'd simply never leave! Here, we have happy servants tending to every single need of our occupants with utmost efficiency and care-- but not just that! They themselves lead perfect lives, with outstanding work-life balance, benefits, and everything they could want. It is as though they are given the means and opportunity to be their own masters, allowing them to serve my guests and me all the more elegantly. It's 'the cat's pajamas,' if I do say so myself."

"This has made you one of the most popular goddesses around, especially with mortals and other serving classes who, let's be frank, often get a raw deal from their goddesses-"

Tck tck tck tck-- click!

"This has made you one of the most popular goddesses around, especially with mortals and other serving classes who..." The man started, then second guessed himself. He laughed and made a motion with one hand for the film crew to cut that part short. "Let's just say you're popular with the common man and leave it at that!"

Klotho put on a sweet smile, batting her eyelashes for the camera and blushing a little. "I am aware of their adoration and I appreciate it. I would be nothing without the humble servitude of everyone else here in Clockwork Eden-- you're all my precious peaches. I am truly blessed."

"Now, I heard you say 'everyone else' serves you, but in truth, there's a pretty high profile guest here, isn't there? A former goddess, actually-- a powerful one!"

"He he. She serves me very well... as my best friend, you know?"

---

Far removed from the lounge, its flashing camera lenses, and the star-struck, gawking fans, another goddess waited in the dining room for Klotho's business to conclude. Klotho had described this place as a paradise, but truth be told, if you were waiting to have fun with Klotho, it could be a pretty inhospitable place-- the woman was always pulled away on some kind of interview, business, or, that failing, a generous allotment of personal time in private.

But it was worth it. Klotho and her best friend, Extre, always had such fun together here in Clockwork Eden, whether it was green gardening, trying out designer clothes together, lounging by poolside, or just watching the latest movies to come out of the celestial cinema. Sometimes, they even got advance screenings. Being Klotho's friend came with a lot of perks, that was certain. One of the biggest perks, Extre thought, was the chance to ogle Klotho from time to time. "If only she wanted to take it to the next level. I could make her, but... hm... that's not the sort of thing a friend does," she admitted, leaning forward on the marble-like surface of the long dinner table and pouting. "I thought she was into me, but I'm actually too afraid to test. All I'd have to do is reach out and take hold of her whims..."

"Or simply ask her, milady," the man standing next to her offered, while taking her empty snack plate from in front of her. This was one of the servants Klotho had alluded to, a tall man with silver hair and kindly smile. He was dressed in the uniform of the house, a long-tailed, silver butler's uniform. The guy wasn't ageless like his master was, but he still had it, as many of the younger servants would say. Word had it he'd been married once, and no one could understand what could ever have made a wife let a guy like him go... Polite, eager to wait on women hand-and-foot, and still really, really muscular despite his age. "But you are the Goddess of Whims. Excuse me: former goddess. It is not surprising you should feel called to your whims, even if you must reject them."

"Called to my whims, huh?" Extre questioned, watching him clean up with vague disinterest. Once again, she found herself wondering if this guy had any whims of his own. He'd been married once. He had to, right? She shot up from her seat and placed one hand suddenly upon his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and nearly drop his tray. "Doyl, look at me. You're not gay, right?"

"I am not, milady. I understand you are...?"

"I'm not gay, I'm bisexual," she corrected him, placing one hand on her hip impatiently. "Anyways, honest opinion: what's your evaluation of me? Out of ten? Is there any reason that Kloey won't sleep with me?"

The man's face was an unmoving, kindly smile. "Ho ho ho. Milady, I couldn't possibly-"

She reached out and grabbed an invisible knob in the air, which materialized, forming a sort of red, translucent disc. With a sigh, she twisted it, forcing the gentlemanly butler to obey the whim of her choosing. So long as her target had ever, even for the briefest of moments, considered an alternative action, she had the power to make them change their mind and pick a new course of action.

"Well, since you asked, I suppose I will give a frank evaluation. You are very fetching, of course. Your blond hair, done in a high ponytail, gives you a classic look of authority, while also a 'Barbie-esque' hint of playfulness. Your red dress stands out amongst all of our attire and the pink discs all about it catch the light in a way any interested party could not fail to notice, especially the one that hangs at your, ahem, quite considerable bosom. Your bell dress does a bit to hide your hips, but perhaps that is necessary for tastefulness, as they are rather, shall I say, vivacious. You've become a bit older since coming here, so there's a slight age gap between your appearance and Klotho's, but-"

"Age gap?" Extre asked, her ordinarily bright expression seeming now especially crestfallen. She had a beautiful energy, at most times. Her face was, at all times, tastefully made up with red lipstick to match Klotho's, and sporting pink disc earrings that framed either side of her face. But lately, something was weighing on her, causing her age to creep in just a bit more. While Klotho still looked eternally eighteen, she was getting to a spot where she looked partway into her thirties. This stung, because their true ages were actually almost identical... They'd looked like sisters when she first got here.

"Oh, no need to worry, ma'am. I'm far older than you-- and mortal-- and people still find me fetching, I'm told. Ho ho ho," the old man laughed, playing with one side of his pointed mustache. "You've got everything in the world to capture Ms. Klotho's attention, if you're so inclined. Just keep a stiff upper lip, milady."

Extre sighed, her large bosom sinking slightly into the low hem of her red ball-gown. She wanted to believe Doyl, but she'd been here for so long, and her beloved Kloey had never shown a hint of interest. In fact, she thought she had confessed once or twice. How had that gone again...? Why couldn't she remember? She pushed the worry from her mind and tried to put on her usual smiling, carefree demeanor. "Hey, who is this, huh? Who ever heard of a sad Goddess of Whims? I'm happy, baby!"

"Jolly good, Ms. Extre."

"And I'm in the mood for some fun!"

"Ah, if you are feeling horny, Ms. Extre, I must presently decline-"

"Not that kind of fun. Not right now, anyway," the woman retorted, blowing a raspberry with her tongue. "Doyl, you're the best butler in this place. Everyone knows it! You work your ass off, you're still hot somehow, and Kloey trusts you more than anybody in the world."

"If you're asking if the mistress has ever made advances towards me, no, of course not," the old man chuckled, wiping up the spot where Extre had spilled a bit of her drink on the pristine black table-cloth. "In fact... I feel as though she's never truly made advances towards anyone. Despite seeming to flirt with... well... everyone! Curious, now that I consider it."

"Yeah. That is weird," Extre agreed, swishing her ponytail as she cocked her hips to one side and stared at the ceiling. The chandelier above was perfectly clean. Sparkling. It was as though it had been perfectly carved from a single diamond and shined to maintain its luster every day. "Do you clean up there, too?"

"On occasion, ma'am."

"Is there anywhere in the house you do not clean? Like... you really go everywhere?"

"Everywhere, ma'am. Well... with one exception. Ms. Klotho's private study."

Extre's eyes suddenly lit up and a smile came across her face. How had she not thought of that? Here she was, a mischief-loving guest with the run of the house, eager to learn something new about the darling Kloey that nobody else knew, and she somehow had completely forgotten about the woman's private study! "Can we go there? Like... right now?!"

"Ahem, no. I told you, I do not clean in that room. That is because no one is allowed inside, save Ms. Klotho herself. As her most trusted assistant, I guard the only copy of the key other than her own, and I am only to enter in the case of an **** emergency."

"Uh huh. Really? You haven't ever wanted to go in?" Extre questioned, placing her fists upon the curves of her hips.

"Ah, well, hm hm. You know. I've been here a long, long time, for a mortal. Of course there have been times when-"

Extre grinned mischeviously, forming another dial between her fingers and cranking it all the way from the midnight position to the 6 o' clock. "Just a little harmless fun. What could a perfect saint like her be hiding, anyway?"

"Jolly good, Ms. Extre. You're quite right! I'm not too old for a spot of exploring, especially in good company such as yours," Doyl chuckled along with her, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Ah, the mistress may give me a tongue-lashing later, but I can handle it!"

"I wish she'd give me a tongue-lashing."

"Ahem, not what you may be picturing. It is an expression meaning a verbal- Ah. A double entendre. Yes, I understand. Jolly good, jolly good."

The two crept through the halls like children, as though worried the ironically far younger presenting Klotho would spot them and scold them for their plans. They passed the lounge where she was conducting her interview, head up the winding stairs of the luxurious Clockwork Eden mansion, until finally, they reached the third floor where she made residence, along with a few other VIPs such as Extre herself. What Extre wouldn't do to spend a little more time in the private chambers of the lady of the house... she'd been in there before, many times, but only to talk fashion, check out dresses, or make some light gossip. She really wanted to give that luxurious double-bed a whirl...

But for now, the sexy boudoir wasn't the object of her focus. Instead, she wanted to get in that dusty old library, just a room over, and finally see what was behind that unassuming locked door. While it looked weak and ordinary enough, the whole of Clockwork Eden was actually composed of near indestructible materials-- one perk of Klotho choosing to make her ruling realm a good bit more modest in size than the average goddess's. A nuclear bomb wouldn't so much as scratch a table-cloth in this place, let alone blow open this door. Even a goddess stronger than Klotho herself would probably have to focus on the task. Extre knew that her powers, great as they were, wouldn't be sufficient to breach it.

Luckily, she didn't have to. The ever-useful Doyl made quick work of the lock and chain using a silver, clock-headed key, producing a satisfying tick as he turned it, appropriately, clockwise. "I must admit, I'm rather excited. Perhaps this room could use a good cleaning. Oh, I'll reveal my role in this mischief, but I may have to give it a thorough dusting while we're inside, hm hm hm!"

"The only place where Klotho's girl-smell doesn't get cleaned up by a team of butlers the moment she takes her ass off the seat? I might just dirty the room up for you some more, if you catch my drift."

"Oh ho ho. How charmingly vulgar, Ms. Extre."

Extre grinned broadly as she pushed the door open with the slowness of a bandit, determined not to make any noise. One part of her was ready to be disappointed. This was Klotho's study, right? She was going to see about a million black and white books scattered all over the place, the kinds of edification that makes one a truly exemplary hostess and goddess that nobody wants to leave the company of. The most exciting thing in here might be the mounted head of some mythological animal she'd hunted on one of her private outings. If they were really lucky, maybe she'd left some clothes lying around with a little bit of her smell on them. Extre planned to sniff them, even if Doyl was watching. She'd amped herself up too much to go away disappointed. She needed, at the very least, that...

... "Smell?" she questioned, suddenly wearing a surprised face. She hadn't smelled anything like this for literal decades.

"My word!" Doyl coughed, producing a handkerchief and offering it hastily to Ms. Extre, who could not be allowed to breathe such filth. It smelled like someone had died in the study. Or, if they hadn't died... like they'd masturbated about a thousand times and not bothered washing any of the furnishings.

The latter seemed to be closer to the truth. Not only was the place full of discarded, stained clothing, but it actually had an entire additional double bed inside. A well-used bed, by the looks of it. Its once regal, silver silk sheets had been ruined. It was literally sagging at the center from the **** of someone humping or being humped. Every chair in the room seemed pretty similar. The desk was the only thing remotely qualifying this as a study, and even that seemed to have been used. A pair of silver, V-style panties lay across its surface, while another peeked out from a half-closed drawer.

"This... This cannot be," Doyl muttered aloud, now producing another cloth to wipe his own perspiring forehead. He looked like he might actually faint. It was the first time Extre had ever seen him upset about anything, and she'd once tripped and lobbed a whole plate of lasagna at his face. "This is... slander. Someone has... has broken in and disheveled this room, clearly!"

"Broken in and fapped into like a year's worth of discarded panties?" Extre questioned, gingerly lifting one pair up from the cleanest looking seat in the room. "Not even I'm that sicko mode, Doyl. This is like... a little too much, even for me, and I was ready to stick my face in some laundry. Besides, how could anybody break in here?"

"They could not. But... it simply defies reason."

"It does do that," Extre agreed, now beginning the detective work of finding anything in this place that proved her friend was hiding anything other than nymphomaniac tendencies. Doyl might be personally outraged at seeing this side of her master, but Extre didn't feel like she was one to throw stones-- she was a sexual deviant here and there herself. What did frustrate her a bit was that her friend was apparently fucking everyone in the goddess-damned house besides her. Was she not actually even into women? That was the only thing that would explain it. But then, why was she always leading Extre on? There had to be a piece of the puzzle they weren't seeing.

She had to search on her own. Doyl seemed to be too defeated to go on and was standing with his shoulders slumping and mustache drooping. For once, he actually looked his age.

"Cheer up big guy! More to clean, am I right?" Extre joked, but she had to admit, it felt in bad taste. Nah. She cranked her whimsy dial, the one in her hair, and reassured herself: it was fine! He needed some levity. Yep, she'd made a good-natured joke just now, lightening the mood. She had not poked fun at the crumbling existence of one man's faith in the idolized image of the woman he served and worshiped.

Finally, after a bit more searching, she found something that wasn't covered in semen-soaked garments. At the back of the room, there was an old television set and a VCR player. Perhaps just as importantly, there was a mountain of plain, black VHS tapes, each marked with different names, written upon tape in Klotho's elegant cursive. "Heh! Leave it to someone who talks like she's from the 1920s to like ancient stuff like this," she chuckled, but she didn't actually feel much whimsy at the moment. Her heart was sinking as she realized she recognized names on the tapes. Some had a butt-load of tapes, some just a few. But there were definitely the names of a few servants on these. Furthermore... "Alphabetical order," she mumbled to herself, biting one thumbnail unconsciously as her eyes scanned through these. If they were all the names of servants, did that mean...?

"Doyl!"

The man suddenly snapped to attention. "Yes, milady?" His servant's instincts overcame his stupor.

"Doyl, uh... Your name's on this tape. And that one. And... this whole column, actually. There's like... a Blockbuster line-up of Doyl tapes here."

"What's this, now? Tapes of yours truly?" Doyl questioned, adjusting his monocle as he approached to take a closer look. "Perhaps there's some misunderstanding? I've never participated in any interviews. That is strictly milady's purview."

"Listen, do you think there's another 'Doyl' running around somewhere? It's kind of a weird name," Extre laughed dryly. "I'm gonna just... Pop this into the VCR. I mean... These tapes look shady as hell but... This is Doyl. You're Doyl!" she repeated, gesturing towards the good-natured servant with open arms. "Like... if these are **** or something, who cares? You've never done anything blackmailable! Well, except when I made you break in here. That's on me."

"Quite true, ma'am. I believe I've offered nothing but sterling service since I've arrived. Perhaps this is where the lady of the house evaluates our performance?"

"Uh, yeah. If you mean like, evaluates tapes of you guys sitting on the can while she jerks off. Cause I feel like that's where this is all headed."

"That's a step too far, ma'am. Please, do not slander Ms. Klotho."

"I have a feeling Kloey's about to slander herself," Extre retorted, then gingerly fed the VHS tape into the machine. She watched with half-shut eyes, worried about what was going to appear on the monitor when she popped in the first tape. To her surprise, no moaning or sex noises started and no porno video appeared on the screen. Instead, a man's image appeared on screen-- a rugged, young man with square shoulders, a huge, broad chest, and really rugged chin-stubble beneath a black, pencil mustache. Just looking at him, he was every woman's dream from back around the earth's 1920's... sculpted from marble, carrying a little darkness, with a love of smokey cigarettes and stiff drinks. He was right off the cover of a detective novel.

"I'm a detective, ma'am," the man on the screen began, producing a badge. "I hope you don't mind if I impose on you to stay the night. Do you have any vacancies?"

"Oh, but... I'm quite sure I didn't ask for any detective. Are you sure you have an invitation?" This voice was Klotho's.

Here, Doyl interceded, seeing that Extre had no idea what she was looking at. "Ho ho ho. Ah, this is quite nostalgic. Did I not mention that I used to work as a detective? Yes, I actually came here one day on a work outing. Truth be told, I was investigating some most unsavory rumors about the lady of the house. Ah, what a fool I feel now, watching this back! I didn't know her as I do now. Ah, but I was charmed. You can see my cheeks reddening a bit, if you look closely!"

Extre smiled. That was actually kind of cute, that Klotho kept tapes like these, cataloguing when she'd met her servants. But what, did she watch them while she fapped? Something still didn't add up.

The man on the screen opened the door behind him wider. "This is my wife, Lenore. She'll be rooming with me."

"Ah... Ahem... What?" Doyl questioned, suddenly squinting harder behind his monocle.

"What what?" Extre repeated. She knew that the man had been divorced once before. This must have been before the divorce, clearly.

"What what... what?" Doyl added, seeming uncharacteristically slack-jawed. "No. No, that is... I don't believe my memory is failing me so much as this. Ah, it's come for me. Alzheimers at last. Pity. Father had it and his father too."

"You don't have Alzheimers, buddy, we're just seeing some weird shit. Now tell me what's weird about it!"

"Well, this simply does not 'jive,' as Ms. Klotho would say. When I arrived here, I was already divorced. Lenore was a distant memory, but an aching one. I was heartbroken when I arrived, in actuality. This was a place of healing for me, where I learned to become a true gentleman's gentleman and recovered from my lonesomeness. Rather, I embraced virtue and clean living."

"Well, the tape cuts off here. We need to try another one. Lucky that interview's going to drag on a while," Extre sighed, popping in another tape and hitting play. This one showed a woman with black hair and a fetching blue dress, standing in a dark alley and clutching her pearl necklace with a frightened expression. Someone appeared out of the darkness... "No. You're shitting me."

Klotho. She was dressed in a heavy winter coat, but the voice was definitely hers, and there was no denying the legs popping out from under the coat's hem.

The two guests of the Clockwork Eden watched with eyes as wide as saucers as Klotho produced documents in a manila envelope from inside of her coat, then sadly told the other woman all the gory details. "Oh, yes, it's devastatingly uncool, darling. Most unwelcome news, I'm afraid. Your husband has indeed been seeing other women... this one... and yes, this one... and that one too... yes, yes," she continued shaking her head sadly. "Oh, and his violent streak. Yes, I'm afraid he beat them. Yes, her. Oh, yes, her too. That one too..."

The other woman was sobbing, but she clearly didn't believe it. The tape ran out.

Wordlessly, Extre popped in the next one. This time, there was someone additional in the frame...

"M... ME!? ARE YOU SHITTING ME?!"

Extre was now in frame with Klotho, turning one of her dials. Suddenly, the woman stopped crying tearfully with disbelief and started crying angrily, clenching her fists. She said she never wanted to see that terrible man, Doyl, ever again. It was all over between them. She ripped off her string of pearls and threw it onto the alley's walkway before storming off in the other direction. The Extre on screen looked like she felt as bad about the whole scene as Extre watching it felt, but Klotho gently placed one hand upon her shoulder, massaging it tenderly.

"Extre, baby... Don't worry about this. Don't lose a single wink of sleep over it. I told you, this is the one favor I'll ever ask of you. And now... we can be together." Her red lips took the Extre's passionately and they embraced in the smoky alleyway. The tape ended, leaving the room in silence once again.

Finally, with a trembling voice, Doyl spoke up. "I can't believe it. It... It seems that-- really now, are you touching yourself?"

"Sorry! I've been waiting to kiss Kloey for eons, you know?"

"Yes, well, I've been serving 'Kloey' for quite some time as well and only now do I realize that she is the one who engineered my break-up. 'Unassailable keystones' my arse, pardon my saying so! Ms. Klotho, gods damned her, engineered my divorce! She literally slandered me to my wife's face and then had you make Lenore believe it! I lost the love of my life!" He was red-faced with anger, an expression previously unimaginable before today.

"W-Wait! I don't remember it either! I've never done any weird favor like that for Kloey! This is like... photoshop or something?"

Fuming with anger and bristling with now-remembered muscle and growing intent to use it, the man popped in another of his videos. His eyes went wide in horror at the image and sound that displayed: the same rugged man from earlier, now hunched over Klotho's naked, sweating body, in this very room, upon that very bed. Her red-painted nails, devoid of their gloves, sunk into the bedsheets and her teeth latched onto the pillow before her, as the man wordlessly plowed her from behind. "Yes! Yes! Mmmmm, you're so big! Forget all about that nasty woman! Just focus on me! Focus on this ass!" she pleaded, shaking said buttocks in front of the stinking, divorce-wracked detective. He gave her a hard, less than gentlemanly slap on one of her perfect ass-cheeks, causing it to ripple at impact and immediately redden. "Mmmmm, yeah. Slap me like your bitch wife! That's good, Doyl! Take it all out on me! Ravage me, baby! You're a superstar, a big man! You've got the biggest dick in the world!" The lies probably didn't matter when she had the ability to go back and erase them from the timeline.

"What. The. Fuck." Extre's violet eyes turned glaring towards the room's other occupant.

"M-Miss Extre, please. We are being manipulated. I never had sex with Ms. Klotho! I would never!" the butler stammered, trying to hide the image of him doing exactly that, which was currently shown large on the old CRT television.

"No. No! You get it! You know what this is?!"

"I don't follow."

Now fuming as hard as he'd been a moment ago, Extre popped in another tape. In this one, Klotho was, once again, meeting Doyl at the front door. This time, he looked crestfallen, heartbroken. He was a shell of the rugged, rough-and-tumble guy he'd been in the first tape. He didn't look like he'd just gotten out of brain-bending sex with a goddess, either. He looked like a booze-stinking bum in need of a handout. And there she was to offer it... Klotho walked into frame extending one hand to take his, then placing one hand gently over it. "You need help, babe. You're a cat who's lost his cool-- a player who's lost his game. You've come to the right place. Let's get you settled in."

"What do I owe you? I don't have anything. No money, no nothing."

"You don't have to do a thing. I'm here to help."

Doyl angrily popped the tape from the VCR, then broke it in half with his bare hands, tossing the pieces onto the floor. Littering was actually the most out of character thing Extre had seen him do yet. "That... That bitch! That roooyal bitch! She had my wife divorce me, then she fucked me silly to get a taste of it, then she rewound time to when I was a half-suicidal bum and, ever the saint, gave me a job working for her for the rest of my damned life! I had a life! I had a wife! I was happy!"

"Wait! But uh... You were also happy in this life, weren't you?" Extre countered.

"Well yes, I was happy before I saw these bloody tapes! Who the hell could be happy now?!" he growled, picking back up the tape and furiously tangling it into a ball in his hands. "Milady has always held that she manipulates just the threads, not changing our destinies, but rather, weaving them in a way for our maximum happiness while holding the same keystones. She hasn't done that at all, she's bloody well rewound time and inserted herself, then popped back out, back and forth, till she's used us all she wants! Then she makes us her damned butlers!"

"You've got a point there, chief. And that's not all... You know, I don't think she was lying about one thing. She can't modify those keystones."

"Oh, you're saying I was fated for this? To lose my wife, be a sad drunk, and then be led around by my nose like a dumb sack of bricks for the rest of my life?"

"No. I think she can't modify the keystones. Rather..." Extre began, sticking one tongue up at the side of her mouth as she impatiently scanned the shelves. These weren't just the tapes of Clockwork Eden's many assistants-- there were tapes of the guests as well. One guest had more tapes than anyone: Extre. Knowing what she'd see, Extre popped in a random tape. The scene was practically identical: Klotho, pretty and apologetic, saying those exact same words.

"This is the one favor I'll ever ask of you. And now... we can be together."

"This is fucking it!" Extre exclaimed in fury, even as her double on the screen happily embraced the woman she'd loved. "She's manipulating the keystones by having me do her 'one little favor' over and over again, then jumping to a timeline before I did it! Once fate's changed, she weaves her little threads back onto the keystone and pretties it up, but she's already fucked it! She's had me change countless people's whims, the decisions throughout their lives, while stringing me on! This is... This is freaking unbelievable."

"Truly, ma'am. Truly it is."

"We've got to get her back."

"I'm on the same page, Ms. Extre. But how? I may look tough, but truth be told, all servants here are powerless compared to the lady of the house. If I so much as showed a glower upon my face, I believe she would reset time to an earlier point then and there, discovering our plan and cutting it off at its heels. That said, I don't believe she can 'see the future,' strictly-- hence why she has not stopped us breaking in here. As a matter of fact, I think your manipulation of the keystones directly interferes with her ability to know the timelines."

"Yeah... I'm her golden goose, huh?" Extre mused, her purplish eyes shining with new mischief as a wicked grin slowly spread across her face. "And this golden goose is about to take back every golden egg I've ever shit out for sweet Kloey, but with interest. Let's go seriously twist her knobs and give Myth Magazine something really entertaining to write about."

---

Klotho reclined upon the cream-colored chez lounge in her stately guest lounge, grinning at the overall marvelous interview she was receiving. The guy was sucking up just the right amount to make her a star-- an even bigger one than she already was. Soon, she'd be attracting not just her usual VIPs, but big-wig goddesses. Big game, as it were. She'd always wondered what it might be like to pull the Goddess of Necromancy and get her hands on those huge, creamy goth mommy tits. She'd probably protest, but a part of her would feel good... and that part of her would be ruthlessly exploited by Klotho's best gal pal, Extre. The woman would simply feel that she'd gone out on a limb and said, "what the heck, maybe I will stick my luscious milk bags in Klotho's mouth? Why not?" All on a simple whim.

She barely stifled a devious chuckle as the interview continued. Extre and she were the perfect tag team, and the other girl didn't even know it.

Part of her did feel bad about it, of course. Extre really did think of her as a friend and she likewise. In fact, Extre thought they were a lot more than that... and once, they had been. Somewhere in that mountain of tapes, there were several nice, juicy sex tapes of her getting it on with her most beloved guest here at the Clockwork Eden, in that secret sex room she called her study. It was great sex. Fiery. Passionate. Exploring each other's bodies, tasting each other's juices, trying every position known to gods and some they didn't have names for yet-- why not, when it can all be pulled backward with the blink of an eye? Extre had loved Klotho and done whatever the lady of the house wanted, acting as friend, lover, master, ****, and everything in between. All events that had since been forgotten like dust in the wind, except for by Klotho, who revisited them from time to time on VHS tape and had a nice fap with her hand down her panties.

But the tapes were enough. Extre had been a lot of fun, but even your favorite meal gets tiresome after a while, right? Tonight, she wanted to sample this handsome, Don Draper looking newsman, then start thinking about how she was going to move on to gods and goddesses. "Dream big, baby. That's what it means to be a real star," she reminded herself, still grinning for the photographs. As long as she saw the threads and Extre saw the keystones, they could accomplish anything together, even if only one of them was really reaping the benefits.

As she was adjusting her position on the chez lounge, sitting up and framing her doll-like face with both hands and putting on the most winning of cutesy smiles, she saw the door at the back of the room open. Somebody may have come to relieve the current reporter. Maybe an even more handsome reporter? Oo la la! She put on an even brighter expression, hoping to win over the poor sap, whoever he or she might be.

It was Extre. She was carrying something in her hands, covered by one of the kitchen's serving cloths.

"The clutz has stumbled into the wrong room on her way to the dining parlor. How silly. My precious, silly Extre," she sighed to herself. "I should simply move backwards on the timeline and rearrange that minor detail. Not a keystone, just a simple thread. We'll put her in the right room."

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. It was intrusive and surprisingly loud. That was probably because it was so brilliant, surely.

"Or... I could have her stay in here! That's right. We can take a photo together. When she was still the Goddess of Whims, after all, she was a higher class than I was. Being seen with her will be outstanding optics. What a positively swinging idea," she congratulated herself silently, before flashing her teeth in a winning smile. "Oh, Extre, my sweet! Would you like to join me for a few photos? This issue of Myth Magazine is going to be 'the bee's knees,' as they say!" she encouraged her bestest friend, patting the seat next to her.

"Oh, gosh golly! Do you really mean it? I haven't had a photo shoot in so long!" Extre giggled, trying to sarcastically match her bestest-westest friend's energy while wearing a youthful, excited grin on her face and bouncing up and down on her toes. The cameraman noticed that she was indeed bouncing-- the low-cut dress was offering a bit more eye-candy than they'd usually put on their magazine's cover. Still, he didn't protest, as the two women sat side by side on the furniture together. "You know, I think I used to take lots of photos like this, back when I was a big time goddess! The Goddess of Whims, they called me. Guess it was just my whim to stop being a goddess, huh?"

"Ha ha ha! You were always so whimsical," Klotho teased her buddy, nudging the woman's slender waist with one elbow. "Hardly a surprise you pulled up your tent-posts and came to grace me with your ever-graceful presence! I don't think I tell you often enough just how happy I am that you chose to do that, my darling. I'm not sure I could thank you enough!"

"You really couldn't," Extre answered through her clenched teeth, struggling to keep a grin on her face as the fog continued to lift from her wasted life and turn into storm clouds above her head, metaphorically. What goddess would ever trade away her godhood? Who would ever want to be called "ex-goddess" of anything? Klotho had happily convinced her it was a term of endearment while wearing that same shit-eating grin she was now. There were only two classes of ex-god: ones that had been physically overwhelmed and ones who had been mentally so, and Extre had been living for years in that second category.

The cameraman was sensing some weird hostility, but he did his best to take pictures of the two regardless.

"You know what would be oh so super fun? Like... 'totally the milkman's van,' or whatever you'd say?" Extre offered, still grinning that plastic grin that barely hid her hatred.

"I wouldn't say that, silly. But please, do tell."

"I think it would be like, super snazzy, if you took off your jacket for this photo-shoot. Then, I think it'd be like, totally coolsville, if you grabbed those suspenders and pulled them aaaaaall the way out from your chest. You know, like a corporate tycoon type pose. Real bigwig stuff. A star, baby, like you'd say!"

"Um... That sounds a bit off-kilter for what they're hoping to capture here, if you don't mind my saying."

"And then snap em! Snap em back! Let go of your suspenders and let them hit you right on your titties!"

Klotho allowed herself a rare frown, framed by her otherwise sunshiny burning orange hair and pristine complexion. Extre was always silly, but this was a bit much-- she tended to be a respectful guest and only play pranks that weren't conducted on the set of a very exclusive, highly sought after recorded interview. The time had come to reset it-

"Or... I could play along. I've never actually snapped these suspenders before and every time I put them on, I wonder how it would feel. I guess I could try it out now. Why not? The rest of the interview went so well, they'll forgive a little horseplay," Klotho convinced herself, definitely by her own untraceable sense of whimsy, before shrugging off the block-shouldered jacket and revealing the narrower, girlish shoulders of the shirt underneath. She lay it gently across the seat next to her, then gave a silly smile as she pulled her suspenders outward. "This is the photo you were suggesting?"

"Of course! You look like a million fucks!"

"What was that?"

"A million bucks, I said," Extre grinned, genuinely enjoying herself now. This was well on its way to making up for years of manipulation.

The cameras flashed as the uncertain cameraman took a couple of photos... before deciding, bidden by a twist of Extre's wrist hidden beneath the cloth, that actually, it was a very good idea to take lots of photos. This was actually going to make a great spread. The untouchable award-winner, so often thought of as a little cold by those who missed out on her exclusive invites, was palling around with a close friend! Who wouldn't want to see a photo like this?

Extre placed one hand over Klotho's, which was still holding the suspender, and gave it a silly twang like she was playing a stringed instrument. "Doo dee doo da doo da dee doo... he he he." She was playing out some unrecognizable theme, using the suspender straps like a guitar.

Klotho smiled uncertainly. Her friend was acting a little crazy.

"And now... pop goes the weasel!"

The blond ex-goddess yanked the red-head's hands away from her suspenders suddenly, causing them to recoil with an audible smack that sent her breasts bouncing in random directions. Klotho's smile vanished, replaced by a wide-eyed look of shock. That hadn't been fun at all. That stung like nothing she'd allowed herself to feel in decades, at least outside of a bedroom setting! Why the hell had she thought that might be a fun thing to try?! To say nothing of the look at her still trembling chest that the cameraman had just snapped photos of. She had to ask him to toss those, right away.

Or... maybe she'd allow him to keep them? After all, she was a generous goddess-- one of the most popular throughout all the heavens! Acting against perceived generosity now might ruin her whole character. Couldn't have that. It was probably okay if he held onto them, embarrassing as they were.

"Hey, you know what else would make a really good shot? Let's give 'em something to really buzz about. People love love love celebrity relationships, you know? What if you... and I... you know?" Extre offered, grinning wolfishly and pantomiming slipping a ring on her finger. "How many times do I have to ask you, Kloey? You can't turn me down in front of a camera, can you? What do you say we take our relationship to the next level and you finally decide to be my girl, huh?"

Absolutely not. Klotho didn't feel that way about Extre any more, and furthermore, this was the tackiest possible place to confess such feelings. Now was the time to put her foot down as the ruling god of this realm and as the lady of the house, for that matter.

Or...

"I can simply rewind this later if it leads to a bad place. It shouldn't matter. I do enjoy the energy Extre brings to Clockwork Eden, after all. Maybe some of that will benefit the photoshoot as well? Besides, the whole mood will be ruined if I make a scene here." With that resolved, Klotho took Extre's hand, smiling warmly. "What the heck? Let's give it a shot, baby," she answered, with all the earnestness and sweetness of someone who's been thinking of tying the knot with her friend for a long time.

"Wow! You two are a couple? I had no idea! This is a huge scoop," the Don Draper looking cameraman exclaimed.

"Yeah we are! Woo hoo!" Extre cheered. She had mixed feelings. This was what she'd wanted for a long time... but in the end, she'd had to manipulate Klotho into doing it, the one thing she promised herself she'd never do. Of course, that was a different Klotho-- one she admired and truly loved. Now that the mask was off, could she really ever love the heinous Klotho again, after learning about all of the horrible things she'd done to every guest of the house? The joy was mostly sucked out of it. Extre sighed deeply...

Then twisted the disc at the base of the ponytail-- her own disc. Suddenly, she felt like she could live with it. All the terrible things Klotho had done were terrible and they'd need to be punished, but in a sexy way. An enjoyable way. Yeah... she was going to savor this and really be happy about it.

Extre moved each hand from her ponytail holder, then clasped them onto the side of her friend's face. As Klotho watched her with an awkward smile, her eyes uncharacteristically wide, Extre brought her face in, placing their matching, ruby-red lips together intimately. It wasn't a made-for-news kiss. As soon as their lips touched, Extre began eating her girlfriend's mouth hungrily, exploring the inside of it with her tongue and smacking her lips noisily in an especially repressed French kiss. A trail of spittle showed as Klotho, shocked, attempted to pull away from the embrace, only to be dragged back into it. Her eyes half-shaded with an aroused look... it wasn't a terrible feeling.

But it wasn't something to do in front of a camera! Urgently, she called the black spiderwebs back into her eyes, preparing to jump timelines. One of Extre's hands moved from her face as she did, hidden behind the small of her back.

Or... she could keep going. I mean, she hadn't actually made out with Extre in a while, had she? It was pretty hot. She could poof this timeline later and save a sweet video tape of it later, right?

Unless Extre didn't let her. Extre might be wise to the whole scheme.

But... surely Extre would! She hadn't caught on, probably.

Thus resolved, Klotho allowed herself to get into it as well, holding one hand to Extre's golden ponytail to keep their heads locked together. She countered the tongue-tango with her own attack, wrestling hers over her newfound lover's while holding the woman's purple eyes with her own mysterious white ones. Yes... It really had been too long since she'd done something like this. In public, even! This was going to make for a saucy tape. But in public meant witnesses, right? This was going to be messy to clean up. Why didn't she feel like stopping? Instead of stopping, she sucked loudly on the other girl's tongue, pulling it lewdly into her mouth with a talent and experience that no one would have expected of this woman, who had never, ever been known to have sex once in her entire long life time.

Extre felt like Klotho was trying to beat her. She was the senior goddess here, even if they were technically about the same age. She wouldn't be beaten here. She maneuvered one hand to the small of her adversary's back, then lower, gripping onto her bum through the tight, waist-high black slacks. With her other hand, she began to shrug down the other girl's shoulder suspenders.

Fighting back, Klotho reached one hand down the corset top of Extre's ball-gown dress, squeezing tightly onto her admittedly more voluminous breasts. "Mmm... she's gotten older now and she's kind of MILFy. I dig that... Why didn't I see it?" she asked herself, eagerly playing with the soft flesh inside dress's top. The boobs were barely covered by one of those hussy, satin-sheen bras Extre liked to wear.

"I should... probably leave," the cameraman muttered, gulping nervously as the two visions of beauty, an eighteen-appearance starlet goddess and a thirty-something appearance vivacious ex-goddess furiously made out on the otherwise tasteful chez lounge in front of him. The blond one stuck out her hand, produced a dial, then turned it. "Or... instead of leaving, I could just... you know. When in Rome!" he laughed, blushing slightly as he fished out his own rather erect cock and began pumping it with one hand. He placed one of the studio's towels over the tip so as not to shoot all over the nice floor.

Meanwhile, Extre was wrestling Klotho down, pinning the other woman's smaller frame beneath her own and grinning wolfishly. With the suspenders down, she began to pop open the silver buttons on the front of the trousers, then slide them down Klotho's legs. For her part, the other woman wasn't even trying to rewind time any more. She'd mentally tabled that until she had her fun here, in this ridiculous timeline that would surely vanish in the next hour or so, like so many had before it. She assisted Extre in getting the pants off, then in unbuttoning the starched white shirt. When it came off, revealing a very mod, very fashionable bra and panty set with a tasteful tank-top coverage and high-waisted legs, black-and-white striped, it also revealed a not-so-tasteful stain on the front of the panties. Her body was perfectly slender and elegant, like a doll's, but it was quickly leaving the realm of fine art and entering that of pornography as it became slick with another woman's sweat.

Extre could hardly contain herself. She lifted her own ballgown dress up over her own head with some effort, not bothering with unbinding the push-up corset or anything like that. Her pleasantly filled-out, mom-like body was displayed, with garish, shimmering red lingerie. The coverage on the top was not much and her heaving bosom was packed in tightly like a bunch of meat, threatening to spill over the top. The bottom part wasn't any more modest, thong-style in coverage with the back fully absorbed by the globes of her ass-cheeks and fairly low-hemmed as well, revealing a neatly shaped but fairly thick patch of blond pubic hair.

She was so close now. She wanted to scissor the hell out of Klotho, or maybe grab something to stick in her and fuck her with it until she screamed. Either would work just as well for her in this scenario. She peeled off the rest of Klotho's garments like an animal, literally tearing the thin fabric and exposing perky breasts that immediately made her a little jealous. She ripped the panties asunder, revealing a very thoroughly shaven pussy-- the girl really was dedicated to keeping that doll-like appearance. It was sopping wet. Extre put her fingers there and slid them down the slit, causing Klotho to moan, before putting the fingers back up to her lips. When she stuck them inside and licked them, she cooed with pleasure. It was as tasty as she'd hoped and now, she could move her lips straight down to the honey-pot itself. It was right in front of her...

She reached up and twisted her ponytail one more time, chasing the decision out of her head and replacing it with a new one. She couldn't obey this urge. She was letting the villainous Klotho off too easily with all of this very passionate, very romantic lesbian sex. This wasn't just about all that Klotho owed her and it certainly wasn't about what Klotho permitted. She needed to get **** for a whole mansion of people that had their lives stolen from them-- the tip of an iceberg that would have grown taller and taller over the years if they hadn't stumbled upon that study. She deserved punishment. Humiliation. Not just one cameraman capturing a lewd, candid sex tape during a photo shoot. That kind of spicy thing might even improve her image! No... this called for something else. She withdrew her head, right as her tongue was about to touch the other woman's sex.

"Not yet, Kloey."

"H-Huh?" Klotho asked, looking incredulous as a stupid smile rested on her face and loose strands of fiery, orange-red hair hung about her forehead.

"What's that you always say? Superstars dream big? Well... let's be superstars," Extre suggested, looking up at her girlfriend's face with devious intent in her purple eyes. This "keystone event" was only just beginning.