Pluriverse

I almost passed out with the unaccustomed feelings, still holding her so my sperm would penetrate her furthest depths, the warmth of the back of her stockinged things almost burning my unbelievably sensitive flesh. I juddered, again and again, my years of sloth beginning to tell on my overweight, grateful frame, almost unable to stand. I withdrew, inch by agonising inch, until the tip of my still spasmodically twitching cock was expelled. A droplet of cum followed it out and oozed slowly down her thigh. I fell backwards into my office chair, completely out of breath, unable to believe what had just happened.

"Professor, I -- I mean, what just..."

Her voice broke my happy daze. I looked up, to see her backing away with a confused, even scared, look on her face. I smiled back reassuringly, but to no effect. "Hey," I joked, trying to lighten the mood, "you should really call me Iain, now, don't you think? I mean..." I gestured to our naked bodies, my subsiding erection, her cum-stained thighs.

"I... Professor, I'm sorry, but -- what just happened?" She wasn't kidding. Her eyes were wide and her lip trembled like a terrified child's.

"Well, we... I mean you... you really don't remember?" I was beseeching her now, unable to understand what was happening. "You don't remember coming in here? Kissing me? Se-seducing me?"

"Oh my God." The words were flat, almost toneless. She suddenly covered herself, with both arms, looking incredibly small. "Oh. My. God. Professor -- Iain -- I am so sorry."

I felt a mixed compassion and irritation, not helped by the slew of post-orgasmic hormones rushing round my bloodstream. "What are the hell are you talking about?"

She bent her knees and retrieved her coat, swiftly slipping it on to cover her body from me, fumbling with the belt.

"It's my fault," she whispered. "But it's never gone this far before. Nothing like!"

"Jennifer." My voice had now recovered some of its professorial authority. "I have to tell you that you are freaking me out a little here. Please, what is going on?"

She looked down, and her hair slipped over her face, hiding her eyes.

"You're not going to believe me, but I'm a -- well, I used to be -- when I was younger -- a -- a... sleepwalker. It's why I took up dance more seriously -- the doctors said regular physical exercise would help. And it worked! I swear, it worked. I haven't had an episode for years. Not for years..." Her voice trailed away.

I scrambled to my feet in horror, quickly locating and putting on my clothes. I could barely look at her. She was a sleepwalker? But her eyes had been open, hadn't they? Did this make me a --

She spoke, interrupting my frantic thoughts. "Professor, please don't worry. You couldn't have known. My -- condition -- makes me act out my dreams. I'm told it's quite convincing." She gave a bitter little laugh. "You were lucky -- you could have been there when I took it into my head to dismember my brother. It took both my parents and my aunt to get me off him and wake me up without serious damage. But I've never had a, a..." she took a deep breath "...a sex dream before. It makes sense, I guess. You'd just asked -- and I'd just broken up with -- I mean, I can see what my brain was doing." She looked me full in the eyes. "is there any chance that we can just forget this ever happened? I mean, I don't really remember much anyway. But I do know that you didn't do anything you shouldn't have. You couldn't have known. And I got dressed up like this," she added, wonderingly, looking at her bra and G-string, still on the floor.

"Please." I made my voice as clear and unconcerned as I could. "I can't pretend I will forget this. But it will be our secret. I'll never tell another living soul, I swear. And we never have to mention it again. Just -- just look after yourself, OK?"

She smiled ruefully. "I appreciate that. And I'll go back to the hospital tomorrow, believe me. And you shouldn't think -- I mean, it wasn't all bad. Not at all bad, actually." She bent over me as I sat in my office chair, kissed my cheek, whispered "Amazing, to tell the truth..." The door closed, and she was gone.

A silence hung in the air for a moment.

"Dave?"

"Yes, Iain?"

"What did you do?"

"A simple adjustment, Iain. I mixed a number of character traits from different Jennifers, to come up with the only way that she would come to you immediately. She will get good treatment, don't worry -- I made sure that this would be a one-off episode. And the physical changes were minimal."

"Physical changes?" And then I realised. "Her leg tattoo. It was missing."

"Yes. But that is not what I meant. Iain, did you notice anything else?"

With that, a truth I'd not until then acknowledged broke through the barriers. "My penis. You made my penis bigger."

"Yes, Iain. A small liberty, but I calculated almost zero probability that you would object. Now tell me. What other changes would you like? And what else do you want to do?"

I grinned.

"A good night's sleep for now. And tomorrow -- well, tomorrow there's a whole pluriverse of potential to explore."