Time Travel

Zach typed furiously at his desk. The window of opportunity to make a transmission was closing, and he had only minutes to spare. Finally, he stopped, briefly looked over the code, and decided he was ready. He typed a few final commands and a window popped up on his screen with only a text prompt. 

After a few moments he typed a single word: “Hello?”

Zach worked as an assistant in the Quantum Communications lab at the university. The lab was working on methods of telecommunications via quantum entanglement. In theory it would allow anyone to receive a message anywhere in the universe instantly. The applications were obvious, but getting to the point of implementation wasn’t quite so easy.

He and a sister lab in Sweden had been working for years trying to get a working prototype to send messages, but had met with little success. Then, one day Zach had decided to try something a little different and just send a message without anyone at the sister lab present to receive the message. He thought he was just sending a message into the void, and never expected to get anything back.

Imagine his shock when he received a reply. Not only that, he actually carried out a short conversation. The person said he was named George, that they were a technician in Chicago, and they had no idea how Zach had hacked their security. He explained he wasn’t hacking and that he was actually a scientist working on quantum communications. George said he’d never heard of it, and after explaining for several minutes things started to seem a little… off. It wasn’t that he was miffed he hadn’t heard of his research - it wasn’t exactly common knowledge - but he also hadn’t heard of things such as e-reader tablets or electric cars. When Zach finally asked what movie had last been in theatres he’d said The Matrix. 

That’s when Zach realized he was speaking to someone from 1999. He’d actually made a time machine.

The implications struck him like a truck - this could net him a Nobel! 

He got up from his desk and went to the bathroom outside the lab to quickly splash some water on his face and calm down. Then he took a moment to stare at his reflection: brown eyes framed by a heavy brow and chubby cheeks, a double chin flowing into a neck nearly wider than his head, sitting atop a jutting chest and belly barely restrained by his button-down shirt. 

Zach frowned. He’d always been unhappy with his looks. Now he had the power to actually do something about it.

He rushed back to the lab, planning to contact his 1999 self just as he’d contacted the tech from Chicago. The calculations were all on the fly, and he half expected them to be totally wrong and wind up bringing him into contact with some dude in India. After hitting send, he waited for nearly two minutes before he got a reply.

“Who is this?” the text read. 

Zach stared at the screen. He hadn’t thought ahead to what he’d actually say, just that he had to somehow convince his past self to eat right, to work out, to somehow escape the flabby prison that had struck after puberty and only grown into adulthood. 

He typed slowly, thinking furiously as he did. “This is going to sound a little crazy, but this is you. I mean, me. I mean, I’m you from the future.”

It sounded ridiculous even as he hit send. The reply he got was rightfully incredulous. “Right. Then prove it. What’s the winning lottery number?”

Zach frowned again and typed back angrily. “I don’t fucking know! They don’t keep lottery numbers from that far back! But I can prove it - that cough you have? The one you’ve been hiding from your parents? It’s asthma. You get diagnosed in college and get an inhaler. It’s part of the reason you don’t do sports or even walk any faster than a brisk pace.”

Again, waiting. Then, “OK, say I believe you - what do you want?”

“I want you to get healthy! You grow up to be a 300 pound fatass. Go to the doctor, get an inhaler, and then go jogging. Join a sports team, start eating your vegetables, or whatever. Everything else will turn out fine, but you’re eating yourself into a lardo!” 

Another wait. Then the reply came, which wasn’t too reassuring. “Sure, I guess. Bye.” 

Zach began to type a reply, then sighed and sat back in his chair. The transmission window had closed, and his past self would never receive the message. Even if he did, he wasn’t convinced he was getting through to him. To himself. He shook his head - he probably shouldn’t be fucking around with the space-time continuum anyway.

It was time to go home. He turned off the monitor and was about to get up to leave, but he saw something in the faint reflection of the screen that drew his attention. It was… himself. More accurately, his face. It seemed… bigger, fuller, with rounder cheeks. He tilted the monitor to get a better look and then immediately noticed something else - he was bald! There was the barest fringe of brown hair on the sides and a few short strays here and there, but other than that he was a cueball.

For a moment he stared at his reflection in shock, and then he felt something, like a distant recollection that was becoming stronger and stronger by the second. He remembered now - he remembered receiving the weird text and going to the doctor and getting his inhaler. It was testosterone based, like most asthma treatments, and it had worked. But it had side effects. Excessive testosterone would lead to premature baldness, he’d learned later, far too late to do anything about it.

He’d also never gotten into sports like he was asked. Instead, the hormone imbalance had only increased his appetite. He’d crested 300 pounds in second year, and these days was closer to 350, but he hadn’t weighed himself in some time. 

Zach snapped back to the present. He hadn’t expected this - any of this. This isn’t what he wanted! He rushed back to the bathroom, noticing a certain additional wobble in his step, and then stared at himself in the mirror.

There he was, significantly larger and yet just the same size as he remembered. His neck was wider, and yet unchanged, his belly was bigger and yet unaltered, his chest jutted further and yet remained consistent. He could remember his smaller self like it was yesterday, and at the same time was strangely unphased by the reflection staring back at him in the mirror. 

Moreover, he wasn’t ashamed of it, not like his other self was. He felt… strong. Powerful. In charge. He couldn’t understand why his other self was so dissatisfied with his body.

Just then, he felt a buzzing in his pocket. It was his phone. He reached for it, the sensation of his arm brushing against his burgeoning love handle familiar and yet foreign, and looked at the message. It was his boyfriend, Derek, wondering when he would be home.

Then the memories rushed in again. They’d met in college, quickly fell in love, and moved in together. He was a bear, like him, and they’d regularly attended the local events and annual parades. The community had done wonders for his self esteem since highschool, accepting his size and even lauding his excessive body hair. Derek especially loved to run his hands through Zach’s hairy back as he drove his cock as deep as it could go…

Zach inhaled suddenly, brought back from his reverie by a loud noise. It had sounded like tearing fabric but with a metal twang. He looked down and saw the reason: his cock had torn through his zipper. Again. 

He stared at it for a moment. A part of him, a fading part of him, recalled his dick being an average size and not the 10 inch monster that projected from his groin like the prow of a boat. But that was wrong; the testosterone he’d taken as a teenager had given him more than back hair and premature baldness. It had given him a set of genitals that seemed more at home on a horse than a human, even for a man as large as him. He remembered so many encounters in college that ended in shouts of pain or tears, or even one time a trip to the hospital. 

Until Derek. Power-bottom Derek, who always cried out for more even after Zach had bottomed out, balls deep-

His phone rung again. It was a picture of Derek, wearing nothing but a thong, his giant bubble butt parted and showing his hole. Underneath was the caption, “I’m waiting”. 

The sight of Zach rushing to his car, fly down and with what looked like a log in his pants, was one that many students on campus that day would never forget. Before he’d left the bathroom Zach still had the presence of mind to take a quick snapshot of his towering, dripping dick and hit reply.