And there she stands in a silken gown...

“Tom, I’ve got something!” Edison walks into the room and looks at what you’re holding. It’s a small electric device with a picture of a heart and a plus sign on it.

“What’s it do, Nik?”

“It uses etheric resonance to track interpersonal relationships. I had a dream about a lepa žena and she showed me how to make it. I call it the Philios Tracker.”

“That’s... stupid. Tesla, when are you going to build something practical for me?” Edison takes the schematic and the device and shoves them in his pocket.

Angela comes into the room just as Mick takes you in his mouth, an expression of both shock and disgust on her face, “David! What in the name of God are you doing?”

Your hand entwines in Jagger’s hair while the other reaches out and pats the leather bound journal with the heart on the cover, “Clearly I’m fucking the face of The Rolling Stones’ frontman, love.” You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Now, Mrs. Bowie, quit being a twat and come to bed.”

You glance at the small black box in your hand as you set the other on the Bible. The heart-and-plus on it in carved relief still makes you smile when you think of how you found it in Rosemary’s room when she went away for her treatment. You slip it into your pocket and raise your hand. “I, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.” Lyndon may have a bigger dick, but you’ll be getting yours sucked in the Oval Office tonight.

You tweet out a selfie then click on the AMA. Flipping the ridiculous forelock from your face you glance down at Selena bobbing her head up and down on your cock. It’s good to be the Bieb.

“Ivanka, honey, do you think I should run for President?” Smoothing back your ridiculous combover you send out a tweet about Barry’s birth certificate, then click on the AMA.

“That sounds like a great idea Daddy.”

“Of course. It was my idea. Now come over here and suck Daddy’s dick, baby girl.”

It’s good to be the Donald.

You look through David Walker’s eyes as he does chest compressions on Olivia Hughs. You raise Matt Jones’ hand to show Jenna the chord fingering. It’s Frank Thompson’s lips that you curl up into a smile when Hana hugs you. Jason Ramirez’s cock that you plunge into Morgan’s tight cunt. Zach Pritchard staring incredulously at the blue Pascal screen. Jacob Carter gazing in horror at the blaze that was your apartment. Markus Najbreit cumming all over Elizabeth’s face.

And then there they stand. You’ve seen them before in the other incarnations that you’ve lived through this night. One handed you an Apple. The other threw it.