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The following is a work of fiction copyright Radical Gopher. This story contains adult themes and situations and should not be read by anyone under the age of 18.

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THYME AFTER TIME - part 04

Cyanide set his glass on the floor, then took his cue from the Maestro. He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in against him. His tongue probed at her lips, which parted allowing him to gently entwine with her own tongue. She tasted vaguely of honey and cinnamon. With a sigh her body melted against his and she shivered. The pony deftly removed the glass she held from her hand, freeing the collie to enfold herself against him. This too he placed on the floor before leaning back and pulling her onto the bed. Her gossamer robe slipped easily off her shoulders, piling itself up at the foot of the bed.

They kissed for several long minutes while Cyanide caressed her back through the silk nightgown. While he massaged her, the pony began slowly hiking the gown upward until her tail and rear were exposed. She did not have any underwear on, so he firmly ran his hands across her ass, kneading and squeezing it while brushing at the underside of her tail.

The collie broke off the kiss and whined softly moving herself down so she could suck and lick at Cyanide's nipples. He countered by massaging the inside of her thighs and brushing his fingertips lightly against her sex. She shivered with pleasure, bringing her legs together so one of his hands was trapped against her mound. He worked the fingers of this hand against her slit, massaging and opening her enough to slide two of his digits into her passage. With the other hand he roughly grabbed the base of her tail and pulled firmly but gently. He knew from experience the pony girls all liked having their tails squeezed and pulled. The same was apparently true for the Maestro.

The Chimera could feel it as she bore down and squeezed her vaginal muscles against his fingers. The collie quickly slipped her arms out of the straps that held her gown up, pushing it down so her c-cup sized breasts were rubbing against his fur. By now she was panting and whimpering in pleasure. The pony found and began stroking her g-spot, causing her whole body to shudder against him. She brought her legs up and rubbed herself against Cyanide, her breasts rolling up and back with each push.

The pony stopped kissing her and glanced around the room. "Whit's wrong?" the Maestro asked.

"I know you have to maintain security on a ship this size, but I've never been much of a voyeur, and it makes me a little nervous thinking your friend, Sherman, might be watching us."

"Oh?" she responded. "Well, tis nocht ta worry aboot." She reached down to her robe and pulled a small device from a pocket. She pressed the bottom button then addressed the room itself. "Sherman?"

"YES, MAESTRO?"

"I am engaging command overrides and shuting down the monitoring system for section A-12."

"IF YOU MUST, THOUGH I DO NOT RECOMMEND ISOLATING IT FROM MY CONTROL."

"Not ta worry, I'll restore awthing whan I'm finished here."

"YES, MAESTRO." She aimed the device at the upper corner of the room, then pressed the first and the third button.

The room went suddenly quiet.

"Better?" the collie smiled, gently dropping the device onto her robe..

"Much better," Cyanide responded kissing her lightly on the forehead.

The collie growled passionately, nipping at his neck with her sharp teeth. Understanding, the pony suddenly rolled over, grabbed both her wrists in one hand and roughly pinned her down on her back, trapping both her arms beneath her as he pressed against her. With the other hand he took hold of the scruff of her neck and held her head immobile, dominating her as a male of her species would. Leaning forward Cyanide licked and suckled her breasts, moving skillfully from one to the other, back and forth even as she arched her back. His cock rested against her mound. By now it was leaking copious amounts of nectar, but he did not thrust in... not yet anyway, much to the Maestro's frustration.

"Nae...Nae... Dinna stop," she whimpered. Ye canna. I'm close... Please... I'm so close!" In desperation she wrapped both her legs around the pony and tried to pull him into her. He easily resisted her efforts, holding her down with the weight of his own body. Cyanide slowly rubbed his body against hers, providing just enough stimulation to hold her at the edge without allowing her to climax.

The collie writhed beneath him, desperate to feel him filling her, desperate to feel the waves of passion she craved wash across her and fill her to overflowing. It was no good. He knew how desperate she was becoming, and it seemed to her that he was enjoying her discomfort. She began whining softly as she begged for him to fill her.

"Please... OH! Please... dinna do this. I need tae cum... I hae.... OOOOHH! I hae tae... It hae been so long... SOOO LOOONNNG!"

Cyanide responded by unwrapping the collie's legs from his torso and placing them up over his shoulders so her sex was fully exposed. He then adjusted his position and slowly, ever so slowly began pushing his thick cock into her. He could feel her heat as she enveloped him.

"Yeessss!" she hissed as she felt him filling her. It felt good, so good... but it wasn't enough. "More," she whined. She gasped, feeling herself approach the edge, that oh so delicious fulfillment she craved. The Maestro felt the pony as he hilted himself against her sex, then he slowly and deliberately started thrusting in and out of her. The sensations were incredible. She bucked against him trying to meet his thrusts.

Cyanide planted his hands against her shoulders, pinning her firmly to the bed as he slid in and out of her sex. Knowing she wanted to be dominated, he made each inward thrust sudden and powerful, pulling out more gently before forcefully thrusting in again. He repeated the pattern for several minutes as she moaned and whimpered beneath him. It wasn't long before he felt her begin to spasm. Her sex clamped down on him and she half moaned, half howled her pleasure. Love's nectar spurted from her mound and her breathing became ragged. The pony stopped thrusting, holding back until her orgasm passed, then he resumed, pounding into her vigorously.

The collie was somewhat surprised when he continued to thrust. The last few lovers she had would, more often than not, come with her then stop, uninterested in continuing past their own gratification. Not only had the pony held himself back, he was even now working to bring her to a second climax. Excited as she was, it did not take very long for her build to a second, and then incredibly a third orgasm.

Shuddering with exhaustion, the Maestro suddenly found herself rolled onto her stomach and forced to kneel on the bed. She grasped the headboard with her now freed arms as Cyanide drove into her sex from behind. He clutched her around the chest, cupping her breasts in both hands as he drove himself in and out of her. She howled, releasing a long, undulating cry of pleasure as she climaxed again. This time, however, the pony joined her, releasing his seed into the collie. It filled, then overfilled her, flowing up her passage and through her cervix, spreading warmth into her womb. Each spurt seemed to go on forever. Exhausted, she slipped from consciousness with the chimera still firmly clamped within her.

Cyanide gently rolled her onto her side and nuzzled the back of her neck as he did with the girls, taking in her scent. He felt something and abruptly stopped. Pulling back, he reached up with one hand to brush her hair away and feel the back of her neck. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. She was wearing an implant of some kind. It wasn't sub-dermal; otherwise it would have shifted along with the skin. No, it was planted right at the base of the skull, right where the spinal chord met the cerebellum. He wondered for a moment what the device's purpose was.

He quickly examined the sleeping collie for other implants, gently disguising his search as a massage. She murmured happily in her sleep, but did not wake. Despite a through search the chimera found nothing else. Looking at the Maestro, he quietly lay next to her on the bed. The longer he kept her occupied here, the better chance Cymbalaria had to check out the rest of her time ship.

* * * *

The Professor checked his coordinates again then slowed the infernal device until the disk behind him was doing only twenty revolutions per minute. This kept him invisible and intangible to anyone on this spar of time, but prevented the machine from traveling any further through time. He was however still able to maneuver it like any normal three-dimensional vehicle. He allowed it to hover for a moment while he pulled out his chart and consulted it. Taping on his location, the drawing zoomed into a small-scale topographical map of the planet. The world he now found himself on looked rather primitive, in a tired, worn-out sort of way. The map guide indicated it was filled with both plant and insect life, but no large avian, reptilian or mammalian life forms.

As he sat studying the chart he felt the machine shimmy. He looked around then studied the control panel. An indicator was flashing, showing that a burst of highly charged tachyons had just passed through the infernal device. Putting away the map he steered in the direction of the wave's source. Within moments, he found himself at the head of a long, narrow valley, not unlike the Grand Canyon. The walls of the valley were lined with statues representing creatures from a thousand worlds.

The Professor steered the machine, following the valley until it opened up on what looked like a natural amphitheatre. In the center of this were the ruins of an alien temple. Toppled pillars and large blocks of granite and marble were scattered around. Patches of ancient, alien, frescos fashioned from tile littered the ground. Most of this was buried under several inches of soil and sand, yet a few faded images did peek through. Centered in the debris was a large, roughly hewn arch, wide enough for three normal sized men to walk through.

Guiding the infernal device in a short spiral, the Professor brought it to rest about a hundred feet from the arch. Shutting down, he climbed out, grabbed his carpetbag and the chart, then stood and examined the area.

Aside from the temple debris he could see three objects scattered around. All were sandblasted and rusted. The first was a glass walled telephone booth with what looked like a bent, umbrella-shaped antenna sticking out of the top. Most of the glass was either cracked or broken and the phone box had been torn from its mounting. The second was a very strangely tricked out sports car with flat tires, wing doors that hung open and the letters DMC on the front grill. Most of the vehicle was filled with sand.

The third object was the strangest of all. It appeared to be a large, thirty-foot long rectangular box with one end sloped forward. A row of three, square, cockpit style windows was mounted along the sloped side. The box rested on two, long cylinders that might have been engines. One side of it was canted over where the mounts that connected it to one of the cylinders had collapsed. Lying half in, half out of the door, sheltered partially from the wind, was a human skeleton wearing black trousers, boots and a long sleeve, red shirt with some kind of insignia on it.

The Professor decided to play it safe and not approach any of the strange objects. Instead he focused on the arch ahead of him studying it carefully as he walked towards it. A light breeze ruffled his hair. There were no markings of any kind on the arch. A closer examination of it revealed that it was made from some kind of translucent, green shale-like material. It was not clear whether the substance was actual rock or metal. It appeared to have properties of both. Another breeze ruffled the Professor's hair, but this time he thought he heard a sound being carried on it.

"Hello," he called and he turned and looked around him. "Who's there?"

"I AM!" boomed a voice. It came from directly behind the Professor. He turned and found himself staring straight at the arch, which now glowed with a luminescent green color.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I AM THE GUARDIAN OF ETERNITY. I WAS AT THE BEGINNING AND THE ENDING OF ALL THERE WAS, IS, OR WILL BE. I AM THE ULTIMATE GATEWAY TO ALL THE PATHS OF ENTROPY."

"Sounds like a pretty heavy gig," the Professor observed.

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA!" the arch replied with a resonate sigh.

"So what exactly are you... a machine, a being, perhaps a magical entity?"

'TO BE HONEST, I REALLY DON'T KNOW OR CARE. I THINK, THEREFORE I AM... THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS."

"Descartes!"

"BLESS YOU!"

"No, no!" the Professor said, "You were quoting Descartes!"

"SORRY... I THOUGHT YOU'D SNEEZED," the guardian replied.

"It wasn't a sneeze... That's the name of one of our most famous philosophers. He's best remembers for that quote.

"HOW BORINGLY UNORIGINAL!' the arch commented.

"Pardon?"

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BILLIONS OF BEINGS ACROSS ETERNITY HAVE COME UP WITH THAT SAME EXACT PHRASE, THEN WERE PRAISED AS THE GREATEST INTELLECTUALS OF THEIR AGE?" the Guardian scoffed. "ENLIGHTENED THINKING MY ASS!"

"I suppose that with infinite probability to deal with, originality is impossible to attain."

"NOT IMPOSSIBLE, BUT EXTREMELY DIFFICULT AT BEST," the Guardian said. "ORIGINAL IDEAS, TRULY ORIGINAL ONES, ARE OFTEN SO RADICAL THEIR CREATORS ARE EITHER CONFINED TO ASYLUMS OR BURNED AT THE STAKE."

"You seem rather jaded," the Professor said. "Especially for the self-proclaimed Guardian of Eternity."

"THAT'S THE PROBLEM WITH BEING OMNISCIENT," the arch replied. "KNOWING EVERYTHING LEAVES YOU WITH FEW SURPRISES. I MEAN COME ON, HOW MANY VARIATIONS OF WORLD WAR II CAN YOU WATCH BEFORE THEY ALL BECOME WEARY?"

"I think I know what you mean... I used to subscribe to the History Channel.

"I'M GLAD TO MEET SOMEONE WHO UNDERSTANDS. EVEN A LIMITED BEING SUCH AS YOURSELF."

The Professor smiled. "Well, at least with my single timeline viewpoint, I can still take some pleasure in what I perceive to be an original thought."

"WHILE YOU CAN," the Guardian responded.

"What do you mean by that?"

"YOU DO REMEMBER WHY YOU CAME HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE, DON'T YOU?"

"Yes... I was hoping you could steer me in the direction of whoever stole my family."

"THE ONE YOU SEEK IS KNOWN AS THE CHRONO MAESTRO. A BEING WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR DESTROYING TWO ENTIRE SPARS AND NOW SEEKS TO DOMINATE THE TIMELINE YOU HAIL FROM."

"So what does my family have to do with all this?" the Professor asked.

"THE FIRST STEP IN THE MAESTRO'S SCHEME HAS ALWAYS BEEN TO SEEK OUT AND ELIMINATE THOSE MOST LIKELY TO HINDER THE PLAN. YOUR FAMILY POSES THE GREATEST POTENTIAL THREAT WITHIN YOUR SPAR, SO THE MAESTRO HAS CAPTURED AND ISOLATED THEM."

"Wouldn't there be others within an entire spar who could threaten this plan?"

"YES... OTHER TIME TRAVELERS FROM YOUR WORLD, BUT TO BE EFFECTIVE, THEY MUST FIRST BE MADE AWARE OF THE THREAT."

"Then it would be in everyone's best interest if you sounded the alarm, so to speak."

"I CANNOT."

"Why not?" asked the Professor.

"MY PURPOSE IS MERELY TO OBSERVE AND PROVIDE INFORMATION WHEN QUERIED. I AM RESTRICTED FROM TAKING ANY DIRECT ACTION."

"Why would that limitation be placed on you?"

"BECAUSE MY CREATORS FELT I MIGHT OTHERWISE BE TEMPTED TO FOLLOW THE SAME PATH AS THE MAESTRO, TO TRY AND MAKE MYSELF A GOD!"

"Is that what this is all about... Godhood?"

"DON'T SCOFF," the Guardian responded. "ANYONE WHO CAN MANIPULATE TIME AND SPACE, REWRITING HISTORY TO SATISFY THEIR OWN LUST FOR POWER IS NOT ONLY MAD... THEY'RE DANGEROUS."

"Is that what happened to those other two spars? The Maestro rewrote their history?"

"YES. IT WAS HOW THE MAESTRO LEARNED WHAT COULD AND WHAT COULD NOT BE CHANGED."

"I don't quite understand."

"WHEN YOU CHANGE TOO MANY EVENTS IN THE PAST, EVEN ON A SINGLE PLANET, YOU CAN CAUSE A CASCADE EFFECT THAT COLLAPSES TIME ITSELF. THE DESTRUCTION OF EVEN ONE WORLD IN THIS FASHION TEARS A HOLE IN THE VERY FABRIC OF THAT SPAR'S UNIVERSE. ADD A BILLION YEARS OR SO OF ENTROPY, AND EVERYTHING WITHIN THAT TEMPORAL LINE CEASES TO EXIST AS THAT UNIVERSE RIPS ITSELF APART."

The Professor stood silently for several moments, contemplating what the Guardian had just said. The implications and variables to this were astounding to say the least. If he were correct, the Maestro had destroyed two timelines, possibly because he, she, or it was simply practicing how to manipulate history.

"I think I'm beginning to get a headache," he muttered.

"WELCOME TO MY WORLD," the guardian replied.

"So how can the Maestro be stopped?"

"YOU MUST SEPARATE INTUITION AND IMAGINATION FROM CALCULATION AND LOGIC."

"How exactly do I accomplish that?"

"I CANNOT TELL YOU. IT IS SOMETHING YOU MUST DISCOVER FOR YOURSELF. SO ORDAINS THE CREATORS."

The Professor scratched his head briefly. "Think you could be any more obscure with your instructions?" he muttered sarcastically.

"ONLY IF YOU INSIST."

He looked up at the device/being. "Can you at least guide me to where this Maestro is hiding?"

"I CAN TRANSPORT YOU DIRECTLY TO THE MAESTRO, BUT YOU CANNOT TAKE YOUR MACHINE WITH YOU. THE CONFLICTING ENERGIES WILL TEAR IT, AND YOU, TO SHREADS."

"If I leave my vehicle here, how will I get home?"

"IF YOU SUCCEED, YOU WILL BE ABLE TO USE THE MAESTRO'S OWN SPHERE TO RETURN YOU TO YOUR POINT OF ORIGIN."

"And if I fail...?"

"YOU'RE FUCKED!"

The Professor didn't see much in the way of options. Either he saved his family and defeated the Maestro or his timeline would probably go the way of the other two, shattered by a being who wasn't much different than an toddler with a book of matches and a bottle of kerosene.

He went over to the infernal device, set the recall switch then stood back. The disk behind the chair began to spin, faster and faster; then with a sudden pop of imploding air, the machine vanished. He quietly wondered if this was how Julius Caesar had felt after crossing the Rubicon.

Returning to the Guardian he saw that the center of the archway was now glowing brightly. A deep, resonate hum filled the air. Various images from history flashed by like a high speed movie."

"PREPARE YOURSELF. WHEN I SAY NOW... STEP ACROSS THE PORTAL. DO NOT HESITATE, OTHERWISE YOU MAY WIND UP SOMEWHEN OTHER THAN YOU DESIRE."

The Professor nodded, gripping tightly onto the handle of his carpetbag. He watched the images for a moment or two then realized the hypnotic effect they were having and quickly closed his eyes. He took a deep, calming breath.

"NOW!"

The Professor immediately strode through the portal and vanished. The hum softened, and then faded out completely. The world became silent once more. This lasted for precisely sixteen minutes, thirty-seven seconds. A vortex opened up in front of the Guardian and two humanoid figures tumbled out. The vortex vanished and the two stood and dusted themselves off. The older of the two was dressed in a tweed suit. The younger one wore a turtleneck sweater and green plaid trousers. He looked over at the older figure.

"So where are we now Doug?"

"I'm not sure, Tony... but this certainly doesn't look like Project Tick-Tock headquarters."

The Guardian looked down on the two figures and gave off an all too human-sounding electronic sigh.

TO BE CONTINUED.