tagSci-Fi & FantasyA Matter of Time Ch. 02 - Eve vs. Lucy

A Matter of Time Ch. 02 - Eve vs. Lucy


Disclaimers: These satirical tales are fiction, so chill. No sexual acts involve hominids younger than 18 standard Earth years. Tags: satire, time machine, mad scientist, temporal glitches, inter-species, pre-human, yeti. Details may be incorrect. Views expressed may not be the author's but all is my fault anyway. Read the first chapter too. Enjoy!

***** A MATTER OF TIME 2: Eve vs Lucy *****

He wanted to father mankind!

Professor Randall R. (for Roanoke) Ronk was in a dither. A crunk. A hole.

Where to go? What or who to find and examine? He was a physicist, not a historian, and his knowledge of the past was a bit sketchy. But he KNEW he could revolutionize historiography! He could reveal the truth of controversial accounts. He could record what actually happened, even involve himself.

But he was not sure where to start.

He had created humanity's greatest invention - a time machine! And not MERELY a time machine, but a system that manipulated all dimensions of time and space!

But he lacked complete confidence in the 214th version of his damned Dimensional Dilator, the DD-214. He could control his glorious time and space machine, either from the console, or from the remote, a modified Android smartphone. He could watch the console or remote's screens to preview his destination so he need not make a spatial-temporal leap 'blind'.

Alas, problems. Sure, he could move, stretch, shrink, bend, twist, and loop the three special dimensions: our X-axis, Y-axis, and Z-axis; and the three temporal dimensions: the Tee-axis, our usual timeline, and the Tau-axis and Teh-axis, leading to alternate universes; and any of however many mini-dimensions fit string-theory. He could grab naked quarks! He could go and take and return in any time, any place, any reality, and preview his trips.

But his calibration was off. His previous trips showed the flaws: Heisenberg uncertainty, where observing matter-energy particles and space-time events changes them, and temporal homeostasis, where time resists change and restores continuity.

Calibration errors. He could preview jumps but he did\ not always land where and when he expected, especially at far removes. Did times and spaces expand or contract at great distances from here and now? Could he build compensation into his device? He needed to tinker more.

But he felt antsy, eager to explore. He needed a well-thought-out destination.

He also created the 69th iteration of a language translator system, Ronk's Universal Translator, RUT-69. It looks like a worry stone. Paired with a hidden Bluetooth earpiece, its AI could learn to communicate with any hominid or anthropoid, hearing their words, translating for Randall, and telling him how to speak in return.

He had chatted with chimpanzees. All they talked about was sex and poop.

Professor Ronk was a physicist who dabbled in AI (Artificial Intelligence) and was mostly agnostic - definitely not a theologian or believer in mystic hoo-hah. But he had always wondered about the biblical creation tale. He knew it was unsupported by geological and biological evolutionary evidence. But, could there be ANY basis...???

He looked up from his beer. "I know what I'll do! I'll go right to the beginning and find Adam and Eve. Hey, if I get to Eve, I can probably fuck her. Then *I* will be the father of mankind! You could be my great-great grandkid." The barkeep in his favorite tavern ignored him, as usual.

Randall staggered back to his lab for the remote. He set the Dimensional Dilator DD-214 for ancient Mesopotamia, the accepted site of the Garden of Eden. Bishop James Usher's accepted creation date was October 23, 4004 BCE. Ronk was cautious. He gave himself a buffer, noon December 31, just in case.

Funny, the DD-214 remote's preview screen only showed blurry images - maybe because a software bug had changed its focus to Eth9opia, 3.2 million years back. Such temporal distances made for flakey image resolution. But he saw garden-like vegetation, and an upright bipedal humanoid figure moving with unmistakably feminine hip-waggling and breast-bouncing. Eve!

He zeroed-in on a nearby clearing. He pushed his remote's SEND button. Poof! There he was, in the Garden of Eden. Well, maybe the Jungle of Eden. A rather smelly jungle. He heard roaring in the distance. Lions in Eden? Sure, why not? They had to start somewhere.


Lucy eased through the trees and hid behind a wall of hanging vines. She peered through the leaves at the strange creature that had appeared from nowhere. She was a fearless hunter, but not stupid. She knew how to stealthily approach and take prey, even when separated from her pack, like now. Was this creature edible?

Lucy did not call herself that. Her name was a vocalized growl of varying pitches and tones, as was the rest of the basic language known to herself and her pack. But we can call her Lucy, after the anthropologists who found her fossilized bones epochs later.

Lucy was an aggressive hominid female, Australopithecus afarensis to be precise. She was not too tall nor too hairy, and really not TOO dissimilar to later proto-humans.

But her senses were much stronger than Homo sapiens sapiens. She saw a wider visible spectrum at a faster frame rate, like dogs see humans in slow-motion. She heard the slightest sound from far away. She tasted infinite flavors in the fruits and fleshes she ate.

And she could sense the faintest of scents. This strange creature was a blinding blur of smells. She noted scents similar to gasses seeping from the earth in places. (The plastic synthetics Randall possessed.) Strange but not TOO unfamiliar animal-hide scents. (His leather belt, shoes, and pack straps, and his woolen socks and coat.) Some odd plant traces. (Cotton shirt, trousers, and underwear.) And so many other traces, new and meaningless to her.

But one class of odors was very clear to her. Hormones, pheromones, sweat, remaining drops and specs of urine and feces - and the smell of semen, of a distinct male pattern to triggered receptors in her brain.

The strange creature - she could mate with it before she ate it!

Many earthly creatures only mate "in season". Hominids are different - they are always in season. Lucy was in season. She felt receptive. She felt an impulse to mate with this creature with the strange, unnatural outer layers. Was that really what his body was like??


Ancient Ethiopia, as now, was rather warm at this time of day in this season. Professor Randall R. (for Roanoke) Ronk was sweating. He hated to sweat. He doffed his wool coat and draped it over a shoulder. He had seen the I SPY guys do that on old TV reruns.

Wait. This was the Garden of Eden, the original paradise, before clothing and modesty. Ronk realized that he was quite out of place in his garments. He must try to blend in.

He had fortunately grabbed a small daypack before he made the jump. The bag held a few necessities - sunglasses, energy water, snacks, pills, a lighter so he could amaze Eve with flame from his hand, soap, pocket binoculars, a Leatherman multi-tool. But those only occupied a small fraction of the bag's space. He removed his clothes - which required him to contort a bit, standing up - and stuffed them in the pack. He kept his brown oxford shoes and black socks. He was too tender for barefooting in rough country.

He was much more comfortable now. He slid the DD-214 remote into a side pocket of the bag for easy access. The RUT-69 translator was a fat worry stone dangling on his not-so-hairy chest by a thin woven neck strap; its Bluetooth earpiece hid in place. Now his hands were free, with the daypack between his shoulder blades (protecting that bit of him from sunburn) and sturdy shoes on his feet. He wondered where the naked Eve had gone.


Lucy was amazed. The creature shed his skin faster than a red iguana could molt! The creature shed the animal-hide-smelling things on his feet before he shed his lower skin, his leg coverings, and then returned them to his feet, all the while standing or hopping between feet, like he did not want his bare flesh touching the ground or anything. And he saved his skin, cached in a bush-smelling bag not unlike the satchels her pack made from animal skins or wove from palm fronds. That back-strap arrangement was very clever. She must teach her pack about that, if and when she found them.

She peered closer at the male. Yes, he was definitely male, obvious even without his mammalian-musk scent. He resembled her packmates more than he did any other creatures she knew. He was nearly hairless except on some of his head but not his ruddy face, and at his armpits and his groin. And a male fuck-organ descended from that groin thatch. She saw him casually brush at that fuck-organ and it thickened.

He was so pale! Like the bellies of frogs her pack caught and devoured raw. (Fire was yet to be invented.)

Did he smell her, her receptivity, her very existence? Apparently not. He looked in all directions but did not focus on her ad-hoc hunting blind. And he paid no attention to the sounds she heard from the other side of the clearing, the sound of a sabre-tooth lion not-so-quietly stalking him. He was looking around but did not seem to notice the shifting visual patterns of disturbed vines and leaves as the great cat moved. How could such a creature survive, unable to detect threats and enticements around him?

Lucy decided the creature was worth more to her alive than dead, for now anyway. If she killed the lion, she would not need to try eating this creature immediately. They could both eat well. And he seemed an easy target.

She clutched her long, carefully-chipped, fine-edged stone dagger, almost a short sword, a sica, like those carried epochs later by the short-sword assassins called sicarii such as Judas Iscariot, a sica-wielder of the Jewish Revolt against the Romans. But I digress.

She heard the sabre-tooth prepare to pounce. Lucy tensed her powerful leg muscles and aimed her long dagger, ready to part the part the vines and leap forth into battle.

She heard the lion inhale, that last lung-filling breath before is would fly into action. She had already quietly breathed deeply. She jumped first, parting vines, darting forth, passing the pale male-creature to meet the attacking lion bitch just beyond him. The lion was startled by the intrusion but could not stop her momentum. She lepta upon the intruder - and received her stone dagger directly into her heart.

Lucy was pleased. She had hardly even broken a sweat! Those lions were too stupid, too easy. Their instincts betrayed them to people like herself and her pack, who observed, learned, and taught. People with language and culture.

The pale creature stood frozen in astonishment. Lucy felt the urge to boast to the world of her victory. Her song of triumph was vivid - her version of a predator's roar after a kill.

"I am Lucy!" her tonal-grunt contralto voice sang out. "I am of the People! I am the Lion-Slayer, the Bear-Slayer, the Bull-Slayer! I am the Mighty Hunter, the Bringer of Doom, the snake in the grass that rises to take and devour! I am the mother and the daughter and the crone, all females forever, the source of life and death and wisdom! Fear me! I will trample you under my feet! I will crush your skulls! I will devour your whelps and yourself! Look at me, oh sun and stars and trees and animals. You are all mine! I am mighty!"

She pushed the sabre-tooth on its side and sliced open its chest. She cut out its pierced heart, cut off a slice, stuffed it in her mouth, chewed it, and then another slice. After devouring those bits, she thought of the pale male thing standing frozen nearby. She thought, and then cut another slice from the warm, dripping heart. She stood and circled to approach the pale male, one hand outstretched, offering him a fruit of her kill. Her other hand clutched her long stone dagger at her side.

"Oh creature, will you feed with me?" she guttered.


Randall, naked but for shoes and daypack, not even his stashed Seattle Sombrero sunhat, stood transfixed. It all happened so fast! The rustle as the naked female -= yes, Eve! - materialized from behind hanging vines and flew past him to meet the blurred rush of a muscular tan animal, holy shit! A sabre-tooth lion! Jumping at him! But Eve met the lion, and stopped it, and killed it, oh so fast, so quietly, so beautifully!

And then Eve roared her song. This was great! He could hear meaning in her vocalization. His RUT-69 translator beeped its BUSY signal to him as it soaked up her 'words', The dangling device's pinhole lenses tracked her motions and muscles in spectrums beyond human vision, watched her blood and lymph flows and her nervous-system surges, read her body language as carefully as it read her song. It quickly assembled a somewhat usable dictionary.

The RUT-69 played its translation into his ear. A larger stock of words would be needed for more accurate rendering. The device must prompt Randall into conversation. This somewhat garbled passage was also tainted by Randall's expectations. He had 'told' the RUT-69 to expect biblical language, so her song was paraphrased and presented in those terms.

"I am Eve!" it relayed to Randall. "I am of the Chosen! I am the keeper of order and peace, the mighty! I am the queen of the Garden, mistress of the snake in the grass that rises to teach!" Yes, it garbled that a bit. " I am the child of the Great Lord and mother of all, forever, the fertile one, the caring one, tending the Garden and Life and Death and Wisdom. Do not cross me for I am your doom! The sky looks down upon me with awe and love for I am the Mighty!"

Wow! This was hot stuff! But she was not quite what Randall had expected of Eve, Mother of Mankind. Sure, she was fairly short. She had not been raised on McFood loaded with growth hormones, only. Her body - strong thighs and calves, six-pack abs, proud perky breasts, a prominent pudendum - was beautiful but a bit shaggy. He had not foreseen such body hair. She was the mother of the Italians and the Ainu, obviously. Maybe less-hairy descendants rode the Ark.

Oh yes, Noah's Ark! One of history's greatest events! So what if no Flood evidence existed, Randall made a mental note to visit its launch.

But, back to Eve. Her lean, lithe, sacred body provoked him. Her rippling muscle definition mesmerized. And her pussy! Large vaginal lips protruded, lyrical labia as poutingly expressive as the equally-puffy, ruddy, and pursed lips on her face. The heart-shaped face that stared at him in triumph and... some other emotion.

She looked good to him but after all, he was a mad professor. You know how they can go.

She circled around him. A scant breeze blew her scent to him and the scent of lion carcass away from him. Her vivid, musky odor aroused him. Her bloody outstretched hand offered him a slice of raw meat.

She uttered words. The RUT-69 told him: "My lord, will you accept this slight offering of sacrifice?"

Randall was rocked! She saw him as a lord! She gifted him with holy sacrifice! He subvocalized a message; the RUT-69 earpiece drove his mouth to utter growling sounds that hopefully said, "Yes, my lady, my protector. I accept your holy offering."

She smiled in a brutish way. His hand reached out, took the thin slab of flesh, and placed it in his mouth. His jaws worked. Hmm, a bit tough, but not much worse that beef tartare, except for the feline taste. He chewed, swallowed, and smiled. "You have done well, my lady," he thought he said.

She was close. She was redolent. She was sexy. He was aroused. He bowed politely and then straightened. He felt jokey. He said, "Madam, I'm Adam," that old palindrome. He chuckled. The RUT-69 rendered him as, "I am yours to take," to her ears. She smiled. He smiled back.


The creature Lucy had saved made strange sounds almost like speech. After a moment, his vocalization's meaning came to her. He had thanked her and praised her. Bowing slightly, he said he was her slave. And he was aroused by her. His fuck-organ was thickening, lengthening.

Lucy (or Eve, or whomever) was receptive and also interested. Her people were not large. This creature stood much taller and slimmer although with a bit of body fat, and with longer fingers - and a larger fuck-organ.

Her eyes watched the creature for hostile moves but she saw no threats, only relief and interest - and arousal. Her own hormones surged. Soon enough, before the scavengers arrived, she must slice off and cache as much of the lion's flesh as possible. But that could wait. And there was always another lion, or antelope, or even this creature if necessary. But she would fuck him first. Her body told her to.

Her people had customs. It was customary for fuck-mates to bring each other to readiness with oral contact. This creature might or might not know her ways, but she would follow them.

Lucy was no stranger to fucks and birth and death. She worked death daily. She took fucks whenever she could. In her almost twenty years in the world, she had experienced many fucks, had birthed several children, some who lived and some who died. That was the way of the world. If no creature ate her, if no mysterious ailment downed her, then she was over halfway through her life, mature and experienced, soon to serve on the councils of leadership.

Lucy was a tough mama.

The pale male was tall but she was strong. She lifted him in her arms and carried him to a sheltered patch beyond the clearing, behind concealing vines and drooping branches, to a soft, leafy, grassy meadow. She scrubbed her groin with dew-covered leaves to clear herself for what was to come.

She set him down and went to her knees. She held his fuck-organ and wiped it with damp leaves, even under the hood around the cap. She took his fuck-organ into her mouth and gently worked her tongue on it. It grew. She took it deeper. It grew like a snake, slithering down her throat, but no, more like that edible root she swallowed to soften it before chewing its touch coat. None of her pack had fuck-organs like this!


Randall was more than surprised. In his brief time in what he thought was ancient Mesopotamia (apparently not in a dry season) he had been stalked, saved from certain death, worshiped, and give a blowjob my Eve, the Mother of Mankind. What next?

Randall was not familiar with the ways of her pack and their mating ritual. Female chooses male. Female arouses and moistens male. Male arouses and moistens female. Female mounts male and fucks until she feels that feeling. Female then chooses the lion's position with both on their knees, her supported by her hands as he fucks into her from hehind, her breasts swinging until he grasps them. Or she chooses the prey position, she on her back while the male fucks into her from the front, sucking her breasts. Either way, the male pounds the female, and continues pounding, until she cries out. Then the male may take his own pleasure and squirt into her. But the female cums first. That is when she is most likely to be fertilized.

She could also take the queen's position and sit atop his hips and his fuck-organ, but that was for special ones. And of course, not every fuck resulted in fertilization. But it was fun trying!

Randall did not know this but he learned fast. After blowing him hard and fat, Eve pulled him with her as she lay on her back. She opened her furry thighs. She pulled his head into her fragrant pussy. She held his head there. She obviously expected cunnilingus. All she really expected was the usual male slobbering. Only other females knew how to really give oral pleasure. But males were good, in their way. And she was horny.

Randall was not totally unpracticed to pleasuring women orally. He had slurped his cheating ex-wife many times before their separation. She had often seemed satisfied. Sometimes he felt her physical reaction so he knew she had not faked everything. Not until later.

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