Chapter 1 Transdimensional Pussy
When we last met, you perceived me as a large, blue-gray lion—a regal creature with a lustful pant and roar, unparalleled self-control, and innate heroism. I’d just made the acquaintance of the Earth human Temple Mews, only moments after you yourself were introduced to her.
Reality is more complicated than our perception of it, however, and the truth is we have always been acquainted—both you and me, Temple and the two of us, and even we three and Sheridan Goodluck, who was once typing this lengthy sentence but is no more.
That’s what I’m here to explain to you, intrepid reader. To follow the story of Temple Mews, you’re going to need at least a layman’s understanding of transdimensionality. Sheridan has chosen me as your humble guru because I possess both natural charisma and unique subject matter expertise. I myself exist in ten separate dimensions. That’s 8.5 more than the average human. And unlike average humans, I have direct, immediate, sensory access to all of the dimensions in which I exist.
For example, at this very moment, I’m curled into a ball on a tapestry-covered sofa, watching a woman bent over a computer typing and possibly touching herself. I’m also leaping from the dusty top of a walnut bureau onto a down coverlet under which a woman is reading these very words wondering when the dirty part is coming. I’m napping in the sun-warmed stone lap of a statue of Hekate on the island of Samothrake, and I’m devouring a gray rat, head-first, in an old crone’s cabin in the dark wood of an as yet unnamed land in a time you have forgotten. I’m sitting at several crossroads, waiting for my mistress, and I’m aboard three ships in three different oceans during three golden epochs, bringing good fortune to those addled enough to believe in it. And, of course, I’m in Euterpe, racing through Tanglewood with Temple clinging to my mane.
Nine of the dimensions I indwell are on Earth. The tenth is here on Euterpe.
On Earth, my lives are constricted by spiraling belts of time that begin and end in the same spot, hemming me into a tight round of pleasures. Here on Euterpe, I seem to have no end, or else it’s so far into the future I’ve never arrived yet.
On Earth, I come standard with a shaggy tomcat suit, and I gravitate to dark alleys in big cities. We’re likely to have crossed paths if you travel. Sometimes, I’m plump and spoiled. Sometimes, I live a mean, hungry life. I’m mostly well-meaning, but I’m neither a philanthropist nor a philosopher in any of my Earth lives. On the other hand, I am frequently a philanderer. In fact, at this very moment, I have just left a rutting she-cat howling with satisfaction behind a trashcan in Cairo, and I’m already sniffing out the heat of a white Persian who spent the last week lying on her back in a pool of sunlight, providing me with an unadulterated view of her soft, pink belly.
Yes, that’s right. Now, you’re getting it. At this very moment, while explaining transdimensionality to you, I’m preparing to thrust my alleycat cock into a velvet pussy in Egypt.
And what are you doing?
At most, you’re alternating between reading and flipping ahead to see when Temple next wraps her thighs around the swarthy woodsman Bruce. Perhaps, if you’re very industrious, you’ve slipped a warm hand beneath the covers to softly address your Devil’s doorbell, to tease the velvet button gently to attention in anticipation of the eventual, inevitable orgies promised implicitly by the author in Book One.
That’s as close as you’ll get to transdimensionality as a human: lying in your bed at a particular time of day, escaping into the sexual escapades of a fictional woman on a bewitched planet in a different time zone, wondering if it’s safe to skip ahead to Temple’s future to gratify your own curiosity in regards to Euterpian orgies, and anticipating how said orgies will impact your own future vis a vis orgasm. Meanwhile, this conjured transdimensionality, including the vision of you in bed, is sprung from the imagination of an author much earlier in time and in a distant city. She doesn’t know you at all, but she is nevertheless thinking of you and possibly touching herself though its impossible to be sure from this vantage point, and frankly, I’m too comfortable to get up and check just to assuage your curiosity.
From my cosmic perch—the inevitable consequence of being a creature existing in several realities simultaneously, I see all of these times and places as co-existing and interdependent dimensions. They are interwoven like a coil basket made of Möbius strips, quantum strings, and lost hair ribbons. They all exist together, at once, in a wild orgy of experiences that I dip into and out of at will.
It’s quite thrilling for me. It would be hell for you. At your best, humans are only haltingly competent at experiencing a single, solitary space-time at one particular point of consciousness. Throw in any extra frills, fillers or points of view, and your lot suffers. Or transcends. Though the latter rarely happens.
So imagine poor Temple’s state of mind when she found herself thrust into an alternate reality on a distant planet far from home in the flash of an orgasm. It’s rare for a human to successfully navigate transdimensionality, in particular when she’s thrown headlong into it with no warning or preparation. I suppose I chose to make a companion of the bewildered and imperiled Earth woman because I admired her expeditious adaptability. It shows an almost cat-like insouciance.
As you can imagine, transdimensionality provides me with unmatched hindsight, foresight and insight. I can see into all of my own possible futures and all of my own possible pasts across all of the dimensions I inhabit. I always know where I need to be and when, and right now, we are all due in Euterpe, where I am delivering Temple Mews to as good a place as any to continue our story and get to the dirty part.
