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“Eric…”
“Eric…”
“Eric…”
A young woman appeared before him. Soft light-brown curls framed her face, airy bangs falling naturally across her brow. Her skin was pale and fine, already flushed a faint pink. Clear eyes locked onto Eric, and a bright, hungry smile curved her lips.
Her loose white shirt hung completely open, sleeves sliding down her arms. Long legs were pressed together and stretched forward, bright red pointed heels still on her feet.
She half-reclined against the armrest of the long sofa, both hands cupping under her breasts, pushing them up and squeezing hard. Soft, heavy flesh overflowed between her fingers. She kneaded them roughly, watching the pale mounds deform and spill out of her grip, then pushed them higher and crushed them down again.
“Ah…” A low, wet moan slipped out. Her eyes went hazy.
“Eric…” Her voice was soft but already thick with heat. “Come here… Eric…”
She pinched one stiff pink nipple between thumb and finger, twisting it, then tugging hard enough to make her hips twitch. A sharp jolt ran straight down between her legs. She bit her lip and did the same to the other nipple, rubbing, pinching, pulling both at once. Her thighs kept opening and closing like she couldn’t stay still.
Her hands moved faster, almost smothering her own chest, squeezing and working the soft weight until the nipples stood swollen and dark red.
“Fuck… it feels so good… Eric…” she whispered, voice already shaking with want.
She shoved two fingers straight into her soaked cunt and started pumping them. Deliberately she pulled them out until only the tips stayed inside, letting Eric see the thick, shiny strings of wetness stretching between her fingers and her hole, before burying them deep again.
Her hips lifted to meet every thrust. Her free hand squeezed one breast, pinching the nipple hard while her fingers fucked herself faster and faster. Clear juice was already running down her knuckles and dripping onto the sofa.
“Mmm… I want you to fill me…” Her voice turned sweet and filthy. “Come here, Eric. Put that thick cock all the way inside me. I need it… I need you to stretch me open…”
She pulled her fingers out, brought the dripping digits to her mouth, and slowly licked them clean, eyes locked on him the whole time. Then she pushed them straight back into her cunt.
“Ah… ah… fuck…”
She spread her knees wide, almost presenting the whole wet, flushed slit to him. Her fingers drove in and out hard; the entrance fluttered and clung to them, more clear slick trailing down with every stroke.
“Eric… get over here.” Her voice was raw now. “Look at me. Look how fucking wet I am for you…”
* * *
Eric stood naked, steps unsteady as his body still tried to settle into the new shell. The moment he crossed the spacetime rift he had dissolved into pure energy and dropped into the void. In that empty dark, only the moaning girl on the sofa stayed real. He walked closer. His vision was still blurry, but he could clearly see the wet shine between her thighs and the thin sticky threads her fingers kept pulling out.
Seeing his dazed face, she reached out, grabbed his half-hard cock, and pulled him in. Soft lips brushed the shaft twice, then opened and took the whole head. Her tongue coiled around it immediately, wet and hot, circling the ridge while she sucked hard. She took him deeper, almost to her throat, greedily working the length as it thickened and hardened inside her mouth.
“Mmm… mmm…” Wet, choked sounds vibrated around his cock. Spit spilled from the corners of her mouth and ran down the shaft. One hand stroked the base; the other pushed her own breast against his thigh so the hard nipple kept brushing his skin.
Eric’s breath turned rough. He tried to step back on instinct, but her hand clamped hard on his hip and held him there. She looked up at him with most of his cock still buried in her mouth. Then she pulled off, dragged her tongue slowly from root to tip, and swallowed him again—this time straight into her throat, a thick wet sound rising with every push.
She sped up, head bobbing hard, taking him deep every time. Her mouth was tight, hot, and messy. She paused at the head, sealed her lips and sucked hard, then drove down again until the tip pushed past the soft resistance of her throat.
“Hah…” She finally pulled off, lips shiny with spit and a thin string still connecting her to his cock.
She pushed him down onto the sofa and climbed on top. The dripping entrance of her cunt hovered over his rigid cock. She rubbed the swollen head against her clit a couple times, smearing her wetness all over it, then dropped her weight and took every inch in one hard slide.
“Ah—!” A sharp cry tore out of her. Her head fell back, hands braced on his chest. Inside she was burning and clenched tight; her juices squeezed out around the base. She started bouncing, each drop seating him all the way to the root so the head punched straight against her cervix.
The sofa swayed in the void. Her rhythm turned rough and fast. Her heavy breasts bounced hard with every impact, nipples drawing messy arcs in the air. She leaned forward, one hand on his shoulder, the other grabbing and roughly kneading her own breast while she kept slamming herself down, swallowing the whole cock over and over.
“Oh fuck… so deep… so full… ohhh…” She panted, voice already breaking.
She shifted into tight, grinding circles, dragging her clit against his lower belly while her cunt fluttered and milked his shaft. Then the grinding broke into heavy, pounding drops. The wet slap of skin filled the empty space.
Without warning she lifted off, spun around, and sank back down in reverse cowgirl. She gripped his thighs and drove herself onto him hard. The new angle pushed him even deeper. She rode him with rolling, relentless thrusts, one hand between her legs rubbing her own clit in fast circles.
“Nngh… ah… right there… fuck…” Her voice was completely gone. Her hips rocked wildly. Thick slick was dragged out with every stroke and ran down his thighs. Damp hair stuck to her back; every time she bottomed out, her ass hit his legs with a heavy, wet smack.
Eric’s mind was still half-fogged, but his hips jerked up on instinct. Feeling the first tremor run through him, she slammed down harder and held him hilt-deep, grinding in tight circles.
“Come inside me…” She looked back over her shoulder, eyes glassy but sharp with demand. “All of it. Right fucking now.”
She slammed her weight all the way down. Her cunt locked around him like a fist. Eric’s body went rigid as a thick, scalding flood poured straight into her womb. Pulse after pulse filled her, packing her full until it started leaking out around his cock. A long, broken moan tore from her throat as she felt herself being stuffed.
Only when the last spurt faded did Eric’s vision clear. He looked up at her—still straddling him, white cum already dripping from where they were joined—and met the satisfied, slightly dazed smile on her face.
On the sofa the two of them just breathed, the sounds slowly evening out in the quiet void.
* * *
“Who… who are you?” Eric asked, pressing a hand to his temple.
“?”
“I… who am I?”
“I’m the way you like me. And I like the way you like me.”
“So this is what it feels like to be flesh and blood.”
“A human body… yes. It’s really fucking wonderful.”
Gravity vanished. They drifted upward, weightless and completely bare, floating face to face in the empty dark.
“Freyja. That’s my name.” Her form turned translucent, glowing with a soft golden light. She cradled Eric’s face and pressed her middle fingers into his temples, sinking to the first knuckle. A direct link of consciousness flared open.
“Fascinating, Eric. Your body is different—multiple fusions, but they fit together perfectly.”
Eric realized his body carried no decay, no pain. The blind leap into the spacetime rift had paid off, even if he still didn’t understand how.
“Your form was broken down and rebuilt during the crossing,” Freyja said. “And when I took human shape just now, a little of my essence leaked into you by accident. The fusion took hold cleanly.”
Eric let out a short, bitter breath.
Light surged from her fingertips. Space folded around his mind as vast streams of imagery tore through him—
He saw eons of starfields ignite and multiply, galaxies spreading like glowing mycelium through the dark, endlessly giving birth to civilizations. Then a crimson tear ripped open. Interstellar empires plundered and slaughtered without limit, drowning whole sectors in blood. A silent sigh from the void, and an unfathomable presence flicked its fingers. Trillions of stars turned to drifting ash and fell into silence.
“I spent eons wondering if corruption was inevitable,” Freyja murmured.
The chaos reordered itself. Vast dimensions were cut into isolated realms, sealed behind invisible barriers.
“I raised walls between the worlds so they could develop without contaminating each other. Yet you carbon-based things… you carry decay in your blood, spreading like a plague.”
“Perhaps I was too generous.”
“The plane tied to yours is a flat world—continents, mountains, oceans, much like Earth.”
“Your people are clawing at the seams to break through, Eric. Your world plays with forces it doesn’t understand.”
“And the real danger may be you.”
“Listen carefully. Another human crossed back before you. I gave him the same warning.”
The flood of images left Eric unable to speak. He could only take it in.
“There is a golden sphere in your world. You probably know almost nothing about it. Your people use it to tear open spacetime rifts—that’s how you survived the crossing. But that is not what it was made for.”
“It is an anchor I placed at the core of every world—a core that absorbs and releases energy to keep each realm stable.”
“In your terms: your world and the one opposite it are bound together like a Taiji. Inside them sit the Void Core and the Creation Core.”
The visions condensed into two opposing spheres turning inside a cosmic axis: one a deep golden orb with an endless pull—Amorphite—and the other a pure, living crystal—Lonsdaleite.
“If the balance breaks, do the worlds destroy each other?” Eric thought.
“No,” Freyja answered. “Mutual annihilation is the small ambition of mortal races. I don’t care about that.”
“When the scales tip, gravity fails. The barriers shatter, and both worlds collapse into each other.”
“Everything returns. The cycle turns.”
Freyja leaned in, meeting his eyes.
“You stand at the center of the fulcrum, Eric. Which side do you choose?”
“Send me to the other side,” Eric said without hesitation.
“Very well. So be it.”
A blinding flash swallowed him. In the dimensional surge his body shattered into billions of radiant strings that howled through the rift and struck the alien ground on the other side.
* * *
Alex leaned back in the executive chair, communicator in hand as he studied the incoming text feeds, his chin resting on his fist.
When the four operatives crossed the rift, they scattered across the alien continent with no way to locate one another. For two long years, they survived separately in the wild. Only after finally reuniting did they piece together enough compatible scrap and power sources to assemble the transceivers and stabilize the gravitational-wave uplink. Now, their reconnaissance reports were arriving in a steady, unbroken stream.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Alex could almost feel the shape of that distant world. His scientific instincts had always run ahead of everyone else’s—he still remembered how young Robert Oppenheimer used to bother him with questions about particle decay. A small smirk touched his mouth.
His thoughts turned to the strike team. All four were elite veterans from tier-one special operations units—hard, capable, and completely loyal. They made the perfect spearhead. The real hardship, however, had fallen on his assistant Ji-hyeon. Each of the four men had needed to be with her before crossing the rift; their peak physical condition and relentless stamina left her body thoroughly spent.
According to their reports, the atmosphere and vegetation were roughly similar to our side of the rift, but almost everything else was alien.
The balance of power sat between two main forces—the surface humans called the Sola, and the underground crystal-rat people, the Ma-guo—plus rare whispers of a third species, the Bios elves. Technology, magic, and raw nature all existed side by side.
The Sola held dominance through old engineering knowledge and control of native bismuth.
The mineral showed extreme diamagnetism and an iridescent stepped structure that shifted color under energy flow. Refined into core rods, bismuth could cancel or reverse local gravity, forming the heart of floating warships and flight armor.
With that aerial advantage, the human rulers controlled the surface without challenge.
Below ground lived the Ma-guo. Their appearance was disarmingly innocent—a fusion of ferret, long-eared jerboa, and human infant. Adults stood only fifty to sixty centimeters tall, roughly knee-height to a Sola human. Their bodies were round and plump, like soft, furry potatoes on short stubby legs that made them waddle when they walked.
Huge glassy purple eyes took up nearly half their faces, adapted for the dark; their pupils were a deep, mysterious violet. Tiny noses sat above mouths that usually formed a cute little V-shape. Their ears resembled those of a jerboa and twitched rapidly with emotion. Dense, pastel-soft fur—pale pink or almost white—covered them completely, feeling like cotton candy to the touch.
They lived in vast underground warrens, spending long hours grooming one another. Only the leaders of their tribal organizations were permitted to wear the distinctive “helmets” made from giant beetle shells; the helmets marked rank and authority.
The cute face was a lie. When they hunted or grew angry, their small mouths split wide past the ears, revealing rows of clear crystalline fangs that regenerated like a shark’s. Retractable claws hidden inside their stubby paws could tear through solid rock—or open a throat in a single stroke.
They had no human morals. Surface creatures were simply “walking meat sausages.” When their high, playful chittering—“chu-chu, mi-mi”—echoed through the tunnels, it usually meant they were carefully slicing their prey apart while still alive.
Their numbers and appetite were a constant crisis for the surface kingdom, which was already planning how to burn the warrens clean.
As for the Bios elves, no confirmed contact had ever been made.
* * *
In truth, Alex’s mind had cracked years ago under the weight of his wife and children’s deaths, the guilt that never left, and an obsession that refused to die.
He had sold the American defense officials and corporate investors a carefully built lie: that decoded passages from the Dead Sea Scrolls, combined with the Amorphite sphere, would open a path to an advanced world full of resources. The money men salivated at the idea of locking down exotic materials and owning the future.
To keep his hands clean, Alex had installed his adopted son as a disposable puppet CEO. The young man, driven by misplaced loyalty, had played the role perfectly—signing every dirty deal and black-budget order without question.
Then he had dangled generational wealth in front of the special operations team and sent them across the rift under the cover of a resource grab.
But as the reports came together, the truth became clear: the other side was not an alternate timeline, and the golden sphere was not a machine that could bring his wife and children back. That hope was already dead. In the wreckage of it, something much darker took root.
“What the hell do I care about wealth or power?” Alex muttered into the empty office.
A century-long game had finally moved its most important piece into place.
Eric.
To be continued…