Reality Clash

by Mark Reed

Read at your own risk. If smut offends you, don't read this. If you're younger than 18, don't read this.

I was walking along the slightly crowded sidewalk path on my way home from the library. Not crowded with people, but with fallen tree branches, trashcans, lawn clippings, sticks, and other minor walking hazards. It made an interesting diversion for my feet to deal with while my mind recollected my latest online adventure.

I was reflecting on something I'd read in one of the lounges I frequent. One of the members had unleashed 8 million Girl Fridays on the multiverse, all in search of a bad pun. Predictably, he found it (A muse meant accolade) and predictably, I responded (huh???) What double entendre can be found in the word accolade, anyway? But that's not the point, if there ever was one.

Ah, yes. The point was that as I walked home that afternoon, I had in my mind the mental image of millions of naked Fridays running rampant across an unknown number of fantasy universes. They could have been clothed, but one has to entertain oneself whenever one can. And believe me, the image of a naked Girl Friday can provide for hours of entertainment. Or minutes, depending on your level of... er... patience at the time.

Eventually I wondered of all 8 million duplicates were attired similarly. Perhaps they each had a minor variation. Perhaps only a million or so were running around completely naked. Perhaps there was a Girl Friday dressed as a French maid, and one dressed as a librarian (cliched yes, but sexy), or even one in a school girl outfit. Personally, I'm rather partial to the school girl variance. But I'll take my Friday any way I can get it... er... her.

Even with all the mental dressing, undressing, redressing, undressing, teasing, and extremely enthusiastic sex I'd been imagining, I was still considerably surprised when I looked into a rustling bush I was passing on my left side and saw Friday crouching there.

"AAAAAHHHHH," I said as I jumped back, almost leaping into the street in front of passing traffic. Perhaps I understated my startlement.

"Mark," she hissed. "You've got to help me. Find me something to wear so I can get out of here. I'm getting scratched all over."

Logically, it's hard to believe in the nonexistence of something standing (or crouching) right in front of you. The human mind, however, is capable of amazing things. Mine was quickly shifting gears from shock to disbelief. I gawked at the wondrous vision of beauty before me and uttered the most profound thought going through my mind at the time- something similar to "urk."

The wondrous vision of beauty before me slowly changed to a wondrous and rather irritated vision of beauty. She reached out a creamy skinned arm and pinched me on the leg. The pain toppled the tower of disbelief my mind had busily been constructing and it again shifted gears to the next emotion: confusion.

"What are you DOING here?" I asked.

"I don't know," she hissed back. "One minute I was talking to Arty, then the next I was trying to create a duplicate of myself, then the next I was surrounded with identical copies of myself while trying to think up a pun, then I found myself walking the streets in this." She gestured disgustedly to the rest of her body. That's when I finally noticed that Friday was actually clothed.

Well, sort of. The ensemble included a low cut, white blouse and a rather short, blue flounce skirt. It looked very similar to the multitude of outfits I'd been imagining her in. If her appearance was at all related to my mental wanderings, she wouldn't be wearing any underwear, either. I looked for and found two tell-tale bumps protruding proudly from her chest. Definitely related. My mind changed gears from confusion to mercantile cunning.

"Well," I drawled slowly, still trying to think through the plan that had suddenly appeared in my mind. "I don't have anything with me here, but I have clothes at home you could use until we can figure out how to get you home again. Come with me." Anyone with a decent sense of manners would have unslung their coat and wrapped it around her shoulders and not taken advantage of the situation to gawk at the incredible body only partly covered by the sex-addled school girl's outfit. I, however, had neither a coat nor a decent sense of manners. I was rather enjoying the view.

"I can't walk in the sidewalk in this," she replied in a hushed tone of voice. "It's indecent!"

I gave her a speculating look. "I think it'll pass grade, or would in California," I said in what I hope was a sly tone. "Personally I think the outfit looks good on you. The blue skirt brings out the color in your eyes."

"I have hazel eyes."

I tore my gaze away from her blouse, which was bringing out the color in parts of her body of more interest to me at that moment than her eyes, and confirmed that the color of her skirt did indeed clash with her eyes. But the skirt made up for that fact by being both short and extremely susceptible to the wind, so I forgave it. "Well, that's beside the point anyway. I'm probably your only way home, and I need to be at *my* home in about 20 minutes so I can take care of the kid I baby-sit. I could go home and let you wait here and hope that she feels like taking a walk, but she probably won't and you probably wouldn't want her to see you like this anyway."

Friday must have agreed with my point. Her face turned a little white and she finally got out of the bushes and onto the sidewalk. As soon as she was standing upright a gust of wind kicked her skirt up and proved that she wasn't wearing panties. I began wondering if I had been suddenly granted with the power to control reality. Friday's lack of surprise or modesty seemed further proof. I mean really, what kind of idiot expects a scantily clad beautiful woman to appear out of nowhere and start performing his greatest fantasy?

Don't answer that.

But as I started walking home again, Friday's lovely form bouncing along beside me, gleefully revealing bits of itself to the world, I considered the idea of reality and multiple universes. What if reality is just what you make of it? What if there are actual realities where people can control the world around them with thought? What if all our fears, fantasies, and dreams exist? What if I was actually a fictional character in a fictional world? Did it matter to me, as long as everything else seemed real? Could I actually control this situation enough to, dare I say it, get my rocks off?

It seemed an insurmountable scientific challenge. I felt compelled to experiment for the good of all mankind.

I'd progressed to walking with my arm around her shoulder by the time we reached the part of the path to my house where the road winds alongside a river and the large group of trees surrounding it. I took hold of Friday's arm and led her into the brush. She looked at me questioningly, but complied.

We reached a point where I was fairly sure we wouldn't be seen and I turned to look at her. "Friday," I said as seriously and sternly as I could, "I have to ask you a very important question. You might say that the world as we know it hinges on your answer."

She watched my face, waiting for me to continue. I took a deep breath and continued. "What I want to know," I said in the same serious voice, "is if you would be willing to give me a blowjob." I concentrated as hard as I could, hoping I wasn't about to get slapped.

Friday seemed puzzled for a moment longer and then slowly sank to her knees with a smile. I stood there, stunned that what I'd been hoping for could actually be happening. The sound of my zipper being undone and the feel of my pants and boxers being pushed down knocked me out of my daze. I looked down just in time to see her hand wrap around my painfully hard penis. She slowly caressed me with her fingers and palm, making me close my eyes to better feel the pleasure. Her hand sped up; she stroked me until my hips began to jerk forward involuntary. I didn't want to orgasm just from her hand, so I opened my mouth to tell her to continue. Just as I began to speak I felt a hot warmth engulf my dick and my words came out as a gurgled gasp.

How can I describe the sensations I felt from her warm, soft mouth? Is there truly any way to convey the pleasure? It felt like my nerves were both tingling and on fire. I was more aware of my balls and dick than I had ever been before. I could feel every single millimeter, because it felt like every single millimeter was being stimulated. Her lips caressed me as she bobbed her head up and down, taking in more each time. Her tongue flicked the underside of my head until her lips and nose connected with my pelvis. With more tongue area to use, she began to snake it against my underside in a way that I still haven't figured out. My whole body felt overheated and filmed with sweat. I rocked back and used one hand to lean against a nearby tree while the other sent its fingers into her hair. I moaned in frustration and delight. Her mouth was driving me crazy. I wasn't even consciously aware of it when I my vocalizations became a half-moan, half-chant; calling her name over and over again.

After what seemed a small eternity (not that I was complaining!) she decided to step it up a notch. She bobbed her head one last time until she had my entire length firmly wrapped in lips, mouth, and tongue. Then she started to suck.

It didn't take very long at all. The explosion hit me so strongly that I lost my balance and fell on my ass in the dirt. I'm sure it was quite a sight to see, since I was in mid-ejaculation at the time. I was completely oblivious. I opened my eyes to see stars- figuratively and literally. Night was beginning to fall and the sky was reasonably clear. I had a rock digging into my back but I felt so relaxed that I decided not to move. Friday had settled down next to me and was hugging me; the front of her body pressing tightly against the side of mine. I moved an arm and let my hand settle on her inner thigh. I fully intended to return the favor, but I wanted to sit and think for a bit while my body de-jellified.

Could I really control people with just my mind? It certainly seemed that way. It seemed that I had suddenly gained the power to control the world around me, but the idea was ludicrous. My best theory at the time was that *I* wasn't real- or at least not real in the sense that I had always thought myself. If I wasn't real to physics, then maybe physics wasn't real to me.

The reason for the sudden turn of events wasn't all that important to me. The overriding thought in my mind was that I COULD CONTROL THE WORLD. Every single thought and whim was suddenly mine to make real. I snuggled up against Friday and thought of all the possibilities that lay before me. I could become what ever I wanted, and that included most (if not everything) that I had heretofore thought impossible. All I had to do was think about it. I laughed to myself, realizing that my thoughts could get me in a lot of trouble. There are some fantasies that a person imagines but doesn't actually *want* to come true. Plenty of people wonder what it would be like to be a woman, but would freak if they suddenly changed into one.

I turned my head and looked at the contended look on Friday's face, pondering the new turn in thoughts. It was a dangerous thing to daydream of, considering my new 'powers.' Why, it would even be possible to...

My whole world seemed to twist, melt, shatter, and implode all at the same time. I shut my eyes to stop the input. Everything had gone suddenly silent and I was feeling so many things jerk, bump, and touch up against me that I couldn't figure out what to make of anything. I'm not sure how long it lasted, but eventually sound returned and I didn't feel anything touching me. I opened my eyes and found myself on the sidewalk, looking at the street I had so recently walked down. I looked around for a moment and realized that I was right in front of the bushes I had seen Friday at. Some of the cars passing me on the street were slowing down to look at me. One even honked its horn. I looked around again, wondering what was going on, and saw *myself* walking down the street towards me. My eyes opened wide in horror as I remembered that my last daydream before the world seemed to shatter involved going back in time. I looked down and my greatest fears were confirmed: two nipples proudly poked out of their respective breasts, barely being covered by a skimpy schoolgirl blouse.

~Fin~