Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually
graphic and explicit material and as such it is not suitable for minors. If you
are a minor, please leave now as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is
illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you
view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely
fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely
coincidental.
1.
I read the inside page of the book, “Imagine
if you could see the past actually happening.” I looked at the plain blue cover
again. There was no indication of the author or book title. I couldn’t even
remember that I had pulled the book down from the shelf in the antique store. I
opened the book again to the same inside page. “Do you dare to see the truth?”
“Odd, it didn’t say that before.” I said
aloud as I shut the book again and looked for the book title again in vain on
the front and the back. The cover was plain blue with no writing.
I felt compelled to buy this strange book and
took the book to the seller. “That’ll be £20 please.” Strangely the book looked
like a perfectly normal book of obscure poetry in the seller’s hand as he
wrapped it. I paid and took the book home.
After dinner I sat in my favourite chair with
a glass of wine and opened the book at the first page. Once again the writing
was different. “Imagine you could see anything you wanted to see... what would
it be?” I checked the rest of the book which contained only blank pages. I left
the book open on a blank page on my lap as I sipped my wine.
I thought about it idly as I sipped his wine.
“Hmm, I wonder what I would like to see, if I really could. I wonder what my
mother’s wedding was like, I’ve never seen any photos of it.”
I rubbed my eyes in disbelief as I saw my
mother in a simple white dress inside a formal looking building with what must
have been my father in army uniform. I watched as the registrar pronounced them
man and wife. My mother must have been 6 months pregnant in my vision. A small
group of people watched as the couple left the building and walked the short
distance to a pub. I followed them as they entered the side room laid out with
sandwiches and beer. An elderly man played the piano and everyone laughed and
danced. Nobody seemed to notice me while I watched and moved around the room
listening to the conversations. A group of middle-aged women were whispering
“He’s a wrong ‘un, you mark my words.” They looked towards where my mother and
who I thought must be my father were sitting. “It’ll end in tears” another of
the women said.
I studied the man I thought must be my
father. He was indeed a rough looking character. My father had drunk a lot of beer
and was unsteady on his feet when he tried to drag my mother up to dance. He
slapped her on the arm when she refused to get up, and went off laughing with
his mates. I rushed over to my mother but she didn’t see me and other women
brushed past me, or actually through me, to console her. Nobody saw me at all.
The party went on, the men got drunk and the
women sat quietly.
I snapped my eyes open. I looked at the book
and on the previously blank page the heading now said “Wedding June 1951.” A
full account of what I had seen followed on the page.
I opened the book to the inside cover again.
It now said “Inside the bubble you can see and hear, but you can’t touch and
no-one can see or hear you.”
“Fuck!” was all I could say as I shut the
book and poured myself a very large whisky.
----
Over the next few nights I sat next to Queen
Elizabeth during her coronation. I saw Churchill deliver his famous radio
speech. I stood in the crowd and watched everyone from Sinatra to the Beatles
perform.
On none of these historical events did any
type appear in the book as it had for the wedding.
The next time it did was when I dropped in on
my first birthday party. Of course I was just a baby, not even walking. It was
then that I became aware of an odd side to the family on my father’s side. I
walked amongst the people in the small garden and back room of the little
terraced house. There I was in my Auntie’s arms asleep against her ample bosom.
My mother was pregnant again, presumably with my little brother who died not
long after being born.
I saw my grandfather, on my father’s side,
sitting bouncing children one after another on his lap. The children laughed as
he tickled them, his hand across their lap to prevent them falling. But I saw,
I saw his hard cock pushing out the front of his trousers and pushing against
the bums of the children. I saw his fingers dig into the girls’ underwear as he
tickled each of them. I saw my father and his brother nudging each other every
time my grandfather pushed his fingers against a girl’s underwear.
I opened my eyes and I saw typed onto the
previously blank page were the words “First Birthday September 1952.” Once
again a full account of everything I had seen was printed on the page.
I put the book down and with a large whisky in
my hand thought about everything I had seen. I thought about how unhappy and
tired my mother looked and how brutish my father’s family seemed.
I had been told that my father left when I
was five, but I have no memory of him at all. In fact I have no memory of
anyone on his side of the family. I suddenly felt very alone. My mother was
dead. My wife and my 2 year old daughter were killed in a hit and run road
traffic accident. Now at the age of 59 I felt alone and suddenly angry at what
was taken from me. I was determined and scared to find out the truth about my
life.
Over the next few nights, afraid of what I
might find out about my life, I visited some historical events of no particular
importance to me. Nothing I saw appeared in the book.
----
It was my 5th birthday party.
Family and friends were gathered in the garden. I saw myself sitting on my
grandfather’s lap. His hand kept going down the front of my loose shorts as he
bounced and tickled me. I saw how hard his cock was inside his trousers as he
kept lifting me up and repositioning me. My father and his brother were trying
to block off the view from the other relatives, but unseen inside my bubble I
could stand right next to them and see exactly what was happening.
My father lifted me off his father’s lap and
carried me up to his bedroom. He pulled down my shorts exposing my arse. My
grandfather appeared in the room and shut the door. I saw him open his trousers
and pull out his hard cock. My father shoved a sock into my mouth to prevent me
screaming as my grandfather pushed his cock into my arse. I saw the tears roll
down my face as he fucked me relentlessly while my father and his brother
pulled on their cocks facing me.
I saw the door burst open and my mother run
into the room along with my auntie. My
father tried to stop her from attacking his father and she stabbed the knife
into his stomach in the struggle. He fell to the floor screaming. My
grandfather turned towards his son and a slash of the knife held by my aunt cut
his cock off. He also fell to the floor screaming. My mother turned on my
father’s brother who ran from the room and the house.
My aunt gathered me up and ran from the room,
but inside my bubble I stayed in the room and I watched as my mother repeatedly
stabbed my father and grandfather.
With the party over and under cover of
darkness nobody really noticed the two bodies, wrapped in sacks and the
threadbare rug from my bedroom floor, being loaded onto my uncle’s coal lorry
and being taken away to the furnace.
I watched my mother and auntie scrub the bare
floorboards.
I woke with a sweat. I was shaking as I tried
to pour a whisky and spilt most of it. I swallowed in one go and poured
another, and then another.
Everything that I had seen was neatly printed
in the book, “5th Birthday September 1956”.
I turned back to the first page of the book.
“You cannot change the past” was written on the first page.
I put the book down. I didn’t sleep that
night or the next, and I didn’t pick the book up for the next few nights.
When I did pick the book up again a week
later, I decided to investigate anything and everything that wasn’t in any way
personal. I experienced so many music festivals, art exhibitions that I missed
first time around, as well as soaking up the atmosphere of things like the
pre-war cabaret in Berlin. No new entries appeared in the book, and no new type
on page 1.
It was couple of months before I started
thinking about my past life again. The driver who mowed down my wife and carried
on driving entered my thoughts more and more. Why didn’t they stop and try and
help?
2.
I stood on the street where the accident
happened. I watched my wife and daughter looking carefully right and left and
start to cross the road, before the car being driven fast and erratically went
straight through them. I felt sick.
The next night I stood further away at the
next junction to see which way he went. Over the course of two weeks I
eventually ended up in his large driveway watching as he screeched to a halt
and staggered from the car towards the large detached house. He was so drunk he
collapsed against the door struggling with his keys. I followed him up to his
bedroom where his wife was asleep.
He and his wife were in their 40’s or late
30’s I guess. I read his post in the hallway. I saw he was a legal judge and
his wife a professor at the university. Their 10 year old daughter went to a
private school a few towns away.
I hated them and everything about them.
----
The next night the opening page of the book
had a new longer typed message. “You can’t change history, but you can step
outside of the bubble. Remember, there are no consequences to whatever you do.”
What did it mean? Did it mean I could interact with people, but nothing would change?
I stood in Melissa’s bedroom. I learnt her
name from the post in the hallway. I watched as she undressed, her slim frame
clad in fine silk underwear. She slid between the covers of her bed and drifted
off to sleep. I knew I had about 20 minutes before her drunken husband arrived
home after running down my wife.
I stepped out of the bubble.
I placed my hand under the covers and
squeezed her firm tit. Her eyes shot open and she screamed as I squeezed it
hard, and I had to place my hand over her mouth to stop her crying out more. I
reached down and felt her soft stomach and lower until I reached her hairy
cunt. I shoved my fingers roughly inside her as her eyes pleaded with me to
stop.
I heard the door slam downstairs and
retreated back to my bubble. Her husband staggered in to find his wife fast
asleep and I watched as he undressed and slipped into bed beside her.
Everything had returned to normal as soon as I stepped back inside my bubble.
The page in the book said May 4th
1979
The next night I arrived earlier and forced
my cock into Melissa’s dry cunt causing her to try and scream. I pushed the
pillow over her face to stop her. I came hard as I heard the door open
downstairs and retreated back to my bubble just before her husband staggered
in. Once again she was asleep as normal when he arrived.
I raped his wife every night for two weeks,
but it wasn’t enough. I just hated these people even more.
Every night, new type appeared in the book.
Each night there were more details of the rape, but only one page. New details
were added as though it was just the one rape.
I turned my attention to the daughter
Abigail. The 10 year old opened her eyes wide when I first touched her hairless
cunt as she slept. I put a finger to my mouth to tell her to be quiet as I
finger fucked her. The next night I pushed my cock
into her mouth and made her suck it. On the fourth night I pushed my cock into
her virgin cunt and fucked her as hard as I could. I was still fucking her when
I heard her father come home and I put my hand over her mouth to stop her
screaming.
One the sixth night I carried Abigail into
Melissa’s bedroom and fucked her in front of her terrified mother while I held
a knife to Abigail’s throat to stop her mother interfering. As soon as I
stepped back inside my bubble Abigail was back in her bed sleeping as was
Melissa.
The book documented everything I saw and did
as always. I had bought a small safe to keep it under lock and key, not that I
actually got any visitors, but better to be safe.
---
I turned my thoughts to other things. Every
time I returned from raping his daughter I returned to my chair with a raging
hard cock and often I had cum on my leg or trousers. During the day I started
to fantasise about what I would do to her that night, or what I could do to any
girl or boy in any time that I wanted to. I stroked my cock and came really
hard as I thought about it. There would be no consequences. I could do whatever
I wanted.
3.
I decided that there were two things I wanted
to accomplish during my night time visits to the past. One was to try and find
some evidence that would hold up today to totally destroy the lives of the
retired judge and his wife. Two was to fuck as many little girls and boys as
possible from across the ages.
I started in the year 1900 by looking around
London for suitable boys or girls. It was a difficult search, and I found it
was better to go in the day time. In Hyde Park I finally saw an opportunity. On
the grass close to the lake was a boy of 7 or 8. He was playing with a hoop
away from his parents. I broke out of my bubble and dragged him off to a
deserted boat hut. All the boats were out on the lake and the hut was left
unattended during the day.
I covered his mouth to prevent him crying out
and unbuttoned his long trousers. I pushed them and his underwear down and
pushed a finger into his arse. I held him tight as I spat on my fingers
inserting a second and then a third finger. I bent him over a beam used for
tying up the boats and pushed my cock into his arse. I pushed hard into him
several times as he gasped for breath against my hand covering his mouth. A
final push deep inside him and I came as cum spurted into his virgin arse.
Breathing heavily I left him in the boathouse and went outside for a cigarette.
I wanted more and I was soon back in the boathouse. The boy sat in the corner whimpering
and I lifted him and pushed my hard cock into his mouth. I forced my cock into
his throat, the tightness gripping my cock and I came again very quickly in the
tight space.
I left him there and watched as his parents
looked around frantically for him. He emerged from the boathouse crying and I
stepped back into my bubble and watched as normality returned and the boy was
playing with his hoop and the parents sat on a bench chatting.
I looked at the book on my return and every
detail of the fuck was printed there under the heading “18th July
1900 First Boy Fuck.”
---
I spent a few days looking round the judge’s
house. I found his safe and watched over different time periods for him to open
it so I could memorise the combination. While the family were asleep I opened
the safe and reviewed the contents which consisted of more money than I have
ever seen in one place, perhaps £ half a million, together with deeds to the
house and other legal matters. At the back of the safe I found what I was
looking for, a diary in which he had stupidly listed payments to him in cash
and the name of the person paying. Well I guess if you are accepting a lot of
backhanders, you have to keep track somehow. I memorised some of the names and
dates to check out later. Over the course of several nights I found the judge
had accepted payments from several criminals whose trials had been abruptly
concluded in their favour. Now I just needed to figure out how to get the
police to search the safe.
---
My cock was hard even before I opened the
book and thought about my next date; Christmas Eve 1946. I stood in the bedroom
of the 6 year old Melissa. I had grown tired of raping her as a 39 year old,
and visiting her as a 6 year old seemed like it could be fun.
I found her wrapped in warm bedclothes on a
soft bed. Her eyes flicked open with excitement as she thought Santa was
visiting. I put my hand on her head and told her to be quiet. I pulled the bed
clothes off her revealing her long cotton nightdress. I roughly pulled it up
and over her head revealing her naked body to me. Her cunt was just a small
hairless mound and her chest totally flat. She carried a little puppy fat and had
obviously not been on strict rations during the war.
I put one hand over her mouth and with the
other I rubbed a finger along her slit. She tried to squirm away from me and I
had to use my body to prevent her. I release my cock from my trousers and it
sprung to attention in front of her scared eyes. I positioned it against her
cunt and used my precum to lubricate the slit as best
I could.
Her eyes shot wide open as I pushed the head
of my cock into her slit. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as I pushed
deeper into her. She tried to bite my hand and I released her mouth and slapped
her face hard. She stayed silent as I worked my cock deeper into her. The
tightness around my cock was incredible as I pumped slowly in and out, almost
pulling all the way out before pushing hard back into her again. I was soon
pumping my cum into her and I pulled out so the last
few drops could spray onto her face.
I returned to my bubble and then my chair in
my room, my cock was hard again and I had to jerk myself off again as I relived
the latest visit. The book recorded every detail as always before I put it back
in the safe until the next night, and many more nights after that.
4.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My face looked
gaunt under several days of stubble. My clothes were dirty after several days
(weeks?) of wear and covered in cum stains. I ran a bath and as I undressed I
saw that I had lost maybe two stone of weight.
I shaved before dropping into the bath and washing.
I dressed and went back downstairs picking up
the bills littering the hallway. The fridge was empty.
I settled down and wrote cheques to pay the
bills, and I wrote a letter to the public prosecutors in London telling
everything I knew about the judge and where to find the evidence.
I blinked in the bright sunlight as I made my
way to the post box and then onto the supermarket. Pushing my trolley around I
couldn’t help but notice the young children with their mothers kicking their
heels as they were made to go shopping. The ages suggested it must be a school
holiday. I saw the girls in their short summer dresses and the boys in their
tight little shorts and my cock grew hard. I was staring at one pretty little
girl leaning over the trolley revealing her pretty little knickers. I lifted my
eyes to see the mother staring at me, before crossly slapping her daughter’s
legs and moving off. My trousers were now way too big for my much slimmer body,
and this allowed my cock to push out the front of my trousers as it got hard. A
few mothers muttered under their breath before pushing their children away from
anywhere near me.
I quickly gathered a few groceries and left
the store. Walking back through the park I sat on the bench to rest. Children
were playing nearby and my cock got hard again pushing up a large tent in my
trousers. Protective mothers once again ushered their children away from this dirty
looking old man sitting on the bench.
I returned home and filled up the fridge. I
took a long look at myself in the mirror, seeing the dark saggy skin around my
eyes, the hollow cheeks, and the pale almost white wrinkled skin. I looked 20
years older than I should.
I left the book in the safe for several weeks
while I made sure I fed myself properly and kept myself clean and shaved. After
a while I looked much better. I went to the shops early in the mornings to keep
me away from the temptations of young girls and boys.
---
Epilogue
One night the evening news told of the
conviction of the judge for accepting bribes. I smiled a smile of deep
satisfaction. I had my revenge. I felt so much better. My excursions into the
past became mainly looking at historical events and over time I stopped
anything personal.
I sat reading in the book of the many things
I had done. The hundreds of women and children I had visited. As I finished the
book I closed it and I saw from the cover that it was a poetry book by obscure
poets. I quickly opened the book to see nothing but poetry inside.
The book had finished with me and it was now
time to pass it on to another person.