The Rewards of Teleportation

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No amount of genius guarantees success. Countless hours of painstaking checking and double-checking of equations and algorithms were no guarantee that this project would work. I thought back to the first true attempt with a mouse I’d bought down at Petsmart. I named him Scotty, and after wiring up the steel plate to the coax inverter coupling sequence, I placed him contentedly on it, his rear left leg leashed to a washer welded onto the plate. A flick of a switch and the turn of a knob started a whining hum, perceptible but not nerve-jangling. A duplicate plate at the other side of my garage laboratory waited to catch the first attempt at teleportation of a live animal.

Poor Scotty. He ended up inside-out, or at least that’s how I’ve chosen to describe the grotesque meat-pile that appeared on the second plate. I photographed the mess and put a print on my wall for inspiration.

I made much better progress in subsequent attempts, managing to disfigure only a couple dozen assorted critters. Scotty II, III, IV, V, VI, and VII all came across with their fur on the outside, and by the time I teleported Scotty XXVII, a brown and white guinea pig, I was feeling quite sure of myself. All his outside parts were in their appropriate places, and an autopsy revealed that only some of his internal organs were scrambled. Excellent.

Winter melted into spring, and on May 28th, try number 134 put me in line for the Nobel Prize in Physics. I successfully teleported the neighbor’s schnauzer 100 meters from my garage, through walls, trees and other obstructions to his own yard unscathed. He seemed to drool a little more after the transfer, but that was acceptable to me. He walked, barked, crapped and otherwise behaved as if nothing happened. Excellent. Only a few more experiments would guarantee my date with Destiny.

This whole project wasn’t for the money, or the fame, though they certainly wouldn’t hurt. It was for Destiny, simply the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. It’s widely known that Swedish women are some of the most beautiful on the planet, but this Finnish prodigy puts them all to shame. An all-around masterpiece, a natural beauty, the kind of woman that inspires wars and epic poetry. Fair haired, fair skinned, fair minded, multilingual, compassionate, curvy, and a host of other complimentary features. She’s out of my league to be sure, but thankfully doesn’t realize it. Her parents, I learned, named her Destiny in a vodka-induced haze wherein they saw God who with his own forceful means of persuasion asked them politely to consider the name. Great things were planned for this wee lass, to be sure.

One of the neat things about my teleportation system is that it’s portable. Basically, it consists of two sets of 1-meter diameter plates wired with coax inverter coupling sequences timed to match the other’s quark inversion orbits. I won’t go into the physics involved here, but it’s less a teleporter and more a wormhole generator. The “subject,” as I’ve through habit learned to call anything I transport, sits on one plate, and as the power threshold reaches the desired level, the subject more or less falls through a wormhole and lands on the other plate, no matter where in the world it may be. Of course, you need one HELL of a power generator. I customized a Honda VX3000 for the purpose, and let me tell you, stand too close and your hair WILL stand on end. Mr. Van de Graf would be proud. Fortunately, only a single huge power source is needed, since the quark inversion orbits are timed between the two plates. I can teleport a subject back and forth with just the power from your standard outlet at the opposite plate. But back to Destiny.

I don’t know much about Finland except for the fact that it’s either too hot or too cold, and they elect socialist witches to fuck up their parliament. The forests of North America are much more amenable, in my opinion. I have a little chunk of forest all my own, far away from the rest of the world. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. It’s nice. It’s the perfect place for a date, assuming you can find a woman who likes the woods, and further assuming that you can actually get her there. Destiny had no problem with the former, but the latter was the rub. How does one visit North America from Finland for a weekend? Short of some sort of teleportation device, it can’t be done. Hence I had a mission, and in 6 months solved the problem. Mostly.

You see, there were a couple more tests to be done before actually attempting the teleportation of a real person. I’d run down my checklist of experiments, and near the bottom of the list was the organic/inorganic mixture transfer. How would an inorganic material such as clothing, when mixed with an organic subject, handle the transfer? I had my doubts, so once again I borrowed the neighbor’s pooch. I found an old, black “AC/DC” t-shirt, and after some forceful convincing, had the dog looking fairly badass. Up he goes onto the plate, I turn the dials and hit the button, and *poof.* Camera in hand, I hurriedly scamper off to the tool shed in the back yard where bahis firmaları I’d set up the other plate. I opened the door, found what humor I could in the situation, took some pictures, jotted down some notes, and summarily verified my fears that organic and inorganic don’t mix too well. Damn. Just to be sure, though, I borrowed the other neighbor’s cat and stuffed it into one of my large sweatsocks. Yes, I cut a hole for it’s head. Sheesh. In the end, though, it didn’t matter. Organic and inorganic don’t mix. I buried them both in the ravine late at night under a full moon. I felt slightly Frankensteinish.

Down to the final experiment: human transfer. I was quite concerned, actually, because of the sheer mass of a typical human. I’d never tried anything so large. I’m sure I could have found a volunteer somewhere if I had searched long enough, but this whole project was unknown to virtually everyone, and I didn’t need the world beating down my door asking questions, putting me on magazine covers, forcing me into television interviews, etc. At least not yet. So in the end, I decided on the only subject I could trust – me. I spent a few hours in my office putting my affairs in order, filling out patent applications, whipping up a quick enchiridion of instructions and explanation, dotting some i’s and crossing some t’s in my Last Will and Testament, and I emailed Destiny informing her of my next experiment, not waiting for a reply. After a quick meal and several deep breaths, I teleported a box of fresh clothes to the tool shed. After walking out and confirming that all was in order at the other plate (the clothes still smelled clean, even), I walked back to the garage and disrobed.

The plate was cold on my bare feet, which I found surprising. I made a mental note of it and suddenly caught a mildly warped reflection of myself in a large piece of sheet metal on the wall. Here I was, naked, standing 3 inches off the ground on a funny looking contraption, scared out of my pants.. err.. skin. I held out my arms straight from the sides, flexed everything I could, thinking I looked a bit like that model of Man famously sketched out be Leonardo DaVinci. My body does look pretty good, really, and I smiled even as I contemplated the scope of my own mortality. All for you, Destiny… here we go..

I flipped the switch and looked down as the plate ignited, and I felt the distinct feeling of falling. In what seemed like 30 seconds but was more like three, I found myself standing in the tool shed. Excellent. After a quick systems check to make sure that all my bits and pieces were still in their correct spots and functional, I was swept up by sudden giddiness. It worked! My whole world was about to change. I quickly redressed and made my way back into the house to email Destiny. Subject: It worked! Yayy!

She and I have chatted and emailed for a long time. In fact, it was she who first lamented the non-existence of a teleporting device. I couldn’t help wondering if she was more excited or scared about my creation. The proof is in the pudding, it is often said, so I formulated my proposal. I packaged up the second plate securely, and a $37.50 trip to the post office later, it was on it’s way to Finland. Sangen hyvä.

Who knows what really goes through a woman’s mind when she decides something. All one can do is hope, really. So I hoped. I hoped she would put her ok on the plan. I’m not sure I would have if I were in here shoes. Flee the city and run off to my parent’s barn with a silly electronic contraption? Stand stark naked on the aforementioned contraption at precisely 7:00 p.m. local time? Trust an American mad scientist that my giblets wouldn’t end up in a scrambled pile of goo 8,000 miles away in a surprise location? Never mind the feat of actually believing that I was who I said I was and not some psycho-retardo-stalker-sicko type. It was too much to ask, really, but in some twisted corridor within her synaptic coils, everything aligned and clicked into place, and she said “yes.”

After a quick little freakout session, I went about setting the plan in motion. I loaded the generator, teleport plate, camping gear and anything else I think I might have needed into my 4×4 pickup and headed off to my secluded mountain property. Oh, this was going to be good. If it worked.

We kept in touch via my satellite modem and laptop, and it worked like a charm. The plate arrived in timely fashion (I’d sent it before revealing my plan to her on a gamble), and she lugged it along with some luggage on the train to her parent’s house. They were away on holiday, so she had the place to herself. It couldn’t have worked out better.

Early the next morning, I fired up the generator and found a flat, stable location for the teleport plate. With everything in place, I sent her an instant message: Plug in the plate, and put your gear on it, then stand back! Teleportation in 1 minute!

My heart thumped out the seconds as the minute went slowly by, and when the second hand reached its zenith, I flipped the switch. Three seconds later, a red kaçak iddaa backpack materialized on the plate, the blue sparks of static discharge melting off into the air. I grinned broadly, and put a pre-made card on the plate, hit the switch, watched it vanished, and then turned back to my laptop. Instant message: You’re next! Reply: Got the card saying the same thing! Teleport in exactly 3 minutes.

I checked my watch, and tried to put myself in her shoes, or her bare feet as the case would soon be. She didn’t even know where she was teleporting to, never mind being naked. Now THAT is trust. For the sake of what modesty she might have, I placed the teleport plate behind a tree, next to which I placed her backpack. I never need see her naked skin if she didn’t want me to. Two minutes.

I fidgeted. I really wanted to be the very first thing she saw, but my sense of chivalry trumped that. She’d have to be content with the verdant forest rolled out before. One minute.

Oh crap. To hell with the forest. I quickly – very quickly – scrawled out on a sheet of paper “Welcome to America. I love you.” I impaled it with a 6-foot pine branch, and crammed the branch forcefully into the hard dirt near the plate. THAT would be the first thing she saw. I ran back to my position, and as the second hand commanded, I flipped the switch.

And there she was. I knew she made it because I could see the familiar blue electrostatic flash, and then the tantalizing snippets of pale flesh filtered through pine branches. 9:07 a.m. Seventy-two degrees. A goddess in my forest, peeking around the branches, a sheet of paper in hand, and a relieved-yet-mischievous grin on her face. Oh, and naked as the day she was born.

“Hi!”

Never had a single syllable ignited my passions to such a degree. Such a simple word, but so full of flavor. It was if that single, strangely-accented sound was the key that unlocked all of the deep, dark, glorious secrets of the universe.

The morning sun caught her short golden hair in such a way as to create the illusion of a halo, a fitting testimony to her status as a goddess. Her skin was incomprehensibly smooth-looking, as if liquid ambrosia had been molded and solidified in her curvature. She was five-foot, seven inches of the finest the gene pool had to offer.

“Hello there,” was all I managed to reply through the sudden tightness in my throat.

She started towards me, down a slight embankment and nimbly over the small babbling stream via 3 small parallel logs.

“I guess it worked, hmmm?” The words seemed to drip from her lips like warm honey.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t contain my shaking. I wasn’t exactly rippling like jello in a traincar, but I could feel myself wound up tightly in nerves.

“Yes.. yes, it certainly did,” I managed to stutter.

Befitting her grace, she sensed my nerves and marched right up to me and planted upon my lips a powerful Kiss of Expatriation, feeling oh-so-at home in my arms. I melted into her, still in disbelief of what had just been accomplished, fomenting her tongue with mine. Dream had congealed into reality. I could feel the pulse of her body as my still-quaking hands slid purposefully down her sides and back over her hips, grasping her ass firmly, pulling her ever closer as our kiss increased in temperature.

“You are beautiful,” I gasped hotly into her ear in a heavy whisper, aching for a breath. I felt her blush.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said in Finglish. Oohh I loved that accent. I slipped one hand back up her spine, along her neck, and embedded my fingers in her hair, my other hand still clinging firmly to her behind.

“Believe it or not, it is. Welcome to a whole new world.”

She laughed, and with a wry grin, slid the slender fingers of her right hand into my jeans, the heel of her hand pressing against my navel.

“The only world I’m looking for right now is down here,” she said with a wink. It was my turn to blush, and I did, and she pushed her fingers down lower.

We kissed again – hard. Full of passion. Celebrating the miracle of teleportation by climbing down eachother’s throats. Her fingers inched yet further down, and my hands canvassed her body, memorizing each arc and line. So inflamed was our passion that she thankfully didn’t see a warm, stray tear slide joyfully out of the corner of my eye.

Time and space lost their meaning as she pulled back her probing fingers and unfastened the buttons of my jeans. I throbbed for her heavily. She easily slid down to her knees, taking my pants with her.

“Oh, it looks like the Doctor is happy to see me!” she noted playfully. I just stared down at her with a cheesy, toothy grin as she grasped me with her fingers and lightly licked around my throbbing cockhead. My knees suddenly felt like noodles. Cooked ones. I felt the aching need to cum – already – and blushed even more.

“Umm, you better be careful down there. You might get an unexpected surprise.” I felt my ears turn crimson.

She looked up at me with smiling eyes, gripped kaçak bahis me more firmly, and redoubled her efforts. I instinctively felt that she was aware of everything, and had a distinct mission. My breathing increased with her pace, and it was less than a minute later when I grasped her hair in warning, as if my moaning wasn’t enough.

“Oh, it’s okay baby,” she winked up at me, “I’m hungry. It was a long trip, you know.” We both laughed, and I felt a whole lot better. She attacked the Doctor with the kind of hungry vigor usually reserved for starving wolves, and the pressure within to release ramped up exponentially.

“Dest.. Dest…” I couldn’t even bite off her name as the flush of release overwhelmed me and my warm seed lunged spasmodically out of me and into her eager, hungry maw. My knees buckled, and it took a Herculean force of will to remain standing as she milked me with her fingers, lips and tongue. As I panted, she continued to swab my member with her tongue, and I lost almost no rigidity as my desire for her started to wax again with her ministrations.

“God, you are awesome!” I managed to finally say with sincerity and enthusiasm.

“And you are… big!” she squealed back. I, of course, shrugged that off with a smile, not knowing if I really was or wasn’t. Could be that Finnish dudes have skinny weenies, having been denied generations of hearty beef meals 4 times a week.

I helped her off her feet, wiped the grass from her knees, and kissed her more passionately than I’d ever kissed anyone in any lifetime. I wanted her to feel how much I appreciated her, wanted her, and loved her. My hands wandered over her breasts, fingers gingerly rubbing her nipples, back and forth as we continued to kiss. Then I had an idea.

“You know, Destiny, in this country, we have a saying. What comes around, goes around.” She raised an eyebrow, and I lifted her swiftly to the tailgate of the truck, her legs dangling off. Before she could even react, my lips were pressed firmly along the inside of her left knee. God did she taste sweet. Slowly, ever-so-slowly did I inch my way up the inside of her thigh, and as I did, she instinctively spread her legs further, leaning back against a pair of rolled-up sleeping bags still tucked in the bed of the truck.

My little kisses and nibbles started to elicit light moans, growing in volume and quantity as I inched further towards her womanhood. I could feel her heat on my face, and the sweet womanly smell of her stoked the fires of my ambition. I blew a long, hot breath over her velvety folds, then fully engulfed her with a wide, open mouth, completely covering her with a full, wet, tonguey kiss.

“I’m in heaven,” I said as I looked up at her swirling, glazing eyes and her heaving bosom.

“Uh huh” was all she managed to reply, and I took that to be a sign that all was going well. My tongue pressed flat against her opening, her wetness dripping like nectar on my lips. I felt her gasp then, and then again as I slowly pulled her folds into the blanket of my lips, sucking them, licking them, tugging gently then releasing, moving to and fro along her moistened slice, using my tongue as an artist would, with broad full strokes accompanied by quicker, lighter flashes. The way she looked in the full light of morning struck me to the core. Never had I wanted to please someone so much. I began to pick up the intensity then, my tongue tantalizing her previously-ignored clit. She jerked slightly as I wrapped her in the coil of my tongue while sliding a long, wet finger deep inside her. She pulsed on my tongue as I gently licked and nibbled. I curled my finger upward, seeking that tender ribbed space, and stroked purposefully there. Her groans became more and more intense, and I didn’t stop when I felt her body seize…and then release in whimpering convulsions. I kissed her there once more, arose, and smiled.

“American schools are good!” she said jokingly. We laughed and talked for a good long while there in the bed of my pickup, naked to eachother and to the world. We picnicked, then napped in the shade of the tent until mid afternoon. Teleporter-lag had caught up with her, and what was 3pm for me was quite late for her. The nap did her well, though, and while still a bit tired, she was ready for something more than snuggling. I stood up and reached out my hand.

“Come with me,” I instructed.

“Oh, I will!” she said enthusiastically. I smirked at her obvious double-entendre.

We were both still naked, but I had us put on some shoes. Nothing ruins the mood quicker than a stubbed toe or stray thistle. Grabbing her hand with mine, and a coiled-up sleeping bag with my other, we marched steadily up the hillside.

“Wait until you see this,” I teased.

The journey wasn’t a long one, maybe 150 meters to a scantily-forested hill further up the property. From the top, the horizon fell away to the south in wide-angle splendor. The view was spectacular. What was even more spectacular was the view of Destiny’s ass as I put the sleeping bag over a stump and suggested she lean over it, which she did eagerly. I made sure she was facing south, so that she could enjoy a view just as beautiful as the one I was surveying. As I’ve said before, Destiny is stunning, both inside and out.

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