"Wow..." I whispered, glancing around at the vibrancy of the white structures, towering above us, the vibrancy of the psychedelic attire of the people who flew around on hover boards and with jet packs.
"The future." Vance said, staggering backwards, hitting the machine. It made a sputtering noise, the equivalent to the coughing noises people make when there's something stuck in their throats. I spun around, to see the electricity that had turned a rainbow of colors, the blue, pink, lilac, yellow, lime light flickering, then stop, as the metal machine disappeared. "Fudge!" He shouted, as the realization dawned on me. We couldn't go back to the past the way we'd came.
"Hawh!" I heard a man gasp, his eyes wide. "Time travelers... I've read about them in history books, the government's... Quick, come with me."
"Wait, what?" I exclaimed. "Who are you?"
"Eristlew, now hurry, before someone sees you."
"Vance, why are you following him?"
"Rye, what else-"
"Shh! Time travel is outlawed; you can't be caught."
"What do you mean, outlawed?" Vance asked, befuddled, as we followed him. "So people have traveled through time before?"
"Of course they have." Eristlew said, looking at us, his eyes wide. "What, do you think this is two thousand five hundred thirty nine? Pfht. Have people traveled through time?"
"Um, what year is it, precisely?" I asked, glancing around at the futuristic holograms, the insane colored hair, the inventions I was wishing existed in my present, not their's."
"Two thousand seven hundred and six." He answered, nonchalantly, as if he was simply saying that dinner was ready or he'd taken out the trash.
"Vance!" I whispered, my eyes wide. "We've traveled six hundred ninety one years into the future!"
"Which is apparently illegal. What do we do?"
"I don't know; God, this is all I've wanted, but now that I'm here... This is a bad scifi movie in the making."
"When, if, we're going back, right?"
"I don't know; I mean, I think so, but the thing's gone, apparently the time machine doesn't actually transport itself through time, just the object on it, I guess it's more of a portal."
"You two sound like two romas." He said, rolling his eyes. I suppose discontent and insults don't cease to exist in the future and humans live in a utopian society where everyone's cheerful and kind and equal.
"Romas?"
"Robot maids. They're so terrible about gossiping when they think no one is listening." He shrugged. "Now we have to get you two clothing that isn't hideously outdated and fix your hair, I guess yours," he pointed to me, "Is already a crazy color, but yours, black? I mean, that color hasn't existed for at least two centuries."
"Wait, do ginger's go extinct?!" I glanced at my hair, shocked. They said that we would; I'd just presumed that it wouldn't actually happen.
"What's a ginger? Now, c'mon, before I get caught and get eed." We must have been giving him odd glances, because he sighed and began explaining what eed was. "Eed? Expelled, embarrassed, depleted. I'll lose my job, be taken from society, forced to go to the unknown deserts."
"Ah... Ah, kay." I murmured, looking at Vance, who shrugged, as if to say do we really have a choice, might as well go with him.
"I'll take you to my house, then call in an ianthe. A stylist. Do you two know anything about the twenty-eighth century?" We shook our heads, as we entered his home, a structure of glass and metal.
"Interesting..." I said, looking at Vance's makeover. The ianthe had died his hair a bright green color and given him a buzz cut, dyed and styled his eyebrows and peach fuzz, dressing him in matching metallic colors.
"You look attractive."
"Thanks; I feel like a clown, though." I smiled, spinning around in my light pink, pale turquoise, cotton candy colored dress, eccentric makeup painted onto my face, my hair cut, blown out, with pink dip dyed tips and peach highlights.
"I have green hair, blue eyebrows, eye liner on, and am wearing leggings that are hugging all the wrong places; compared to me, you don't look nearlly as ridiculous."
"Haha, true... Still, these shoes are killing my feet."
"Why don't we get them off you." He suggested, stepping closer, placing his hands on my waist, spinning me, passionately kissing me.
"We're in someone's guest bedroom; it'd be wrong." He looked at me, his eyes wide, like a love struck puppy. "Vance, I said it'd be wrong; I didn't say I didn't want to, I definitely do, I mean... These shoes are very uncomfortable, as is this dress."
He pressed me against the wall, began kissing me, moving his hands up and down my body, nibbling at my ear, my neck. He pulled at my dress, as it cascaded down to the floor, landing in a pile of futuristic, indestructible fabric. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he moved his hands to my back, attempting to unfasten my bra.
"Damn this twenty-eighth century lingrie."
"Aww, honey."
"It's what you were wearing at home?" He sighed, as I nodded. "It isn't like I'm paying attention to the wrapping, I'm paying to the package."
With one sweep, he'd moved me from up against the concrete wall onto the bed. He lay down next to me, as I climbed on top, kissing him. Our lips collided, his soft, yet eager, his tongue-
"Entering intimate mode."
"What?" I exclaimed, pulling away. "Who said that?"
"I... I think the bed did."
"The bed?!" I glanced up, as the bed began playing soft, electronic jazz, pixelated pink hearts against a purple background creating a vessel of privacy. We began kissing again, pulling off the fabric that covered us, sinking into one another. I have to get, sex is considerably better when it occurs on a bed from the twenty-eighth century.
NOTE: This isn't related to the story, but Ryelynn's descents are super pale, redhead lesbian triplets who are all engaged/married to brunettes with orange skin... I thought it was a bit humorous. ☺
"Ah... Ah, kay." I murmured, looking at Vance, who shrugged, as if to say do we really have a choice, might as well go with him.
"I'll take you to my house, then call in an ianthe. A stylist. Do you two know anything about the twenty-eighth century?" We shook our heads, as we entered his home, a structure of glass and metal.
________________
"Interesting..." I said, looking at Vance's makeover. The ianthe had died his hair a bright green color and given him a buzz cut, dyed and styled his eyebrows and peach fuzz, dressing him in matching metallic colors.
"You look attractive."
"Thanks; I feel like a clown, though." I smiled, spinning around in my light pink, pale turquoise, cotton candy colored dress, eccentric makeup painted onto my face, my hair cut, blown out, with pink dip dyed tips and peach highlights.
"I have green hair, blue eyebrows, eye liner on, and am wearing leggings that are hugging all the wrong places; compared to me, you don't look nearlly as ridiculous."
"Haha, true... Still, these shoes are killing my feet."
"Why don't we get them off you." He suggested, stepping closer, placing his hands on my waist, spinning me, passionately kissing me.
"We're in someone's guest bedroom; it'd be wrong." He looked at me, his eyes wide, like a love struck puppy. "Vance, I said it'd be wrong; I didn't say I didn't want to, I definitely do, I mean... These shoes are very uncomfortable, as is this dress."
He pressed me against the wall, began kissing me, moving his hands up and down my body, nibbling at my ear, my neck. He pulled at my dress, as it cascaded down to the floor, landing in a pile of futuristic, indestructible fabric. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he moved his hands to my back, attempting to unfasten my bra.
"Damn this twenty-eighth century lingrie."
"Aww, honey."
"It's what you were wearing at home?" He sighed, as I nodded. "It isn't like I'm paying attention to the wrapping, I'm paying to the package."
With one sweep, he'd moved me from up against the concrete wall onto the bed. He lay down next to me, as I climbed on top, kissing him. Our lips collided, his soft, yet eager, his tongue-
"Entering intimate mode."
"What?" I exclaimed, pulling away. "Who said that?"
"I... I think the bed did."
"The bed?!" I glanced up, as the bed began playing soft, electronic jazz, pixelated pink hearts against a purple background creating a vessel of privacy. We began kissing again, pulling off the fabric that covered us, sinking into one another. I have to get, sex is considerably better when it occurs on a bed from the twenty-eighth century.
NOTE: This isn't related to the story, but Ryelynn's descents are super pale, redhead lesbian triplets who are all engaged/married to brunettes with orange skin... I thought it was a bit humorous. ☺
LOL, uh oh, there's no way back to the past? That's disconcerting. Wow... Vance's future makeover is pretty extreme, he looks unrecognizable. At least they had some fun on the future bed, despite having done something illegal earlier. XD
ReplyDeleteIt is worrisome; Ryelynn's intelligent, though and she has Vance, so things will (probably) work their way out. ;) And haha it is; I rarely use the futuristic clothes or crazy hair colors, so I really enjoyed getting to make him over... He was nearly as excited as I was, however..
DeleteThanks for reading and commenting! :)