Time Slip into a Reverse World

Linhart stood there inspecting his wrists for the rope burns that were no longer there. His throat was whole again too, though the phantom pain of having his larynx ripped out stayed with him.

Most of all he was overcome with the fact that he was free again. The sensation of standing up and walking in the outdoors became too much for him and he sank to the ground.

Young, energetic students were flowing by him once again, like always, heading to the Circled Square. The sun was shining down on him, warming his body. He’d forgotten what sunshine felt like on his cheeks. The buzz of conversation around him was like music to his ears. He was free again!

He stretched his arms out, enjoying the sensation of being able to move his body in any way that he’d like. His arm struck a young woman who was passing in the knee. She looked down at him quizzically and then offering him her hand, she helped him to his feet. He smiled and apologized, and was pleased to remember that he wouldn’t be punished for his mistake. Those wicked women were gone.

He had lived through a terrible ordeal, but he was alive again, and he would continue living.

* * * * * * * * *

Back in the Circled Square, he gravitated once again to his spot in the front row. It was where he was meant to be. He saw the space between Serapha and Ayame, and he sat there, feeling a rush of nostalgia as he plopped himself down and looked back and forth between the two girls.

Both girls were dressed in their freshman uniforms. Their shirts were crisp and new. Their skirts were as short as ever. Horny was his new standard setting. He’d been conditioned to be ready to fuck at a moment’s notice, but he knew he had to dial it back. This was Serapha, not some anonymous boob soldier.

“Linhart? Is that you?” Serapha asked. She sounded like a little girl on the first day of school, eager and nervous. They were back to the beginning again. “It’s so good to see you again!”

“I’m so glad to see you, too,” he replied slowly, emotion weighing in his voice. Then he added, “Sera, I've got to be honest with you. I've been through hell since the last time I saw you.”

“Oh, Lin…” she started to reply, her brow knotting with concern.

“I’m okay now, or at least, I’m going to be okay… I just need one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Could you hold me close for a little while?”

“Huh?” She paused, looking uncertain. Linhart’s eyes met hers and he saw all the love and support she’d been giving him. Her diligent habits and her honest enthusiasm. It was all there hidden behind those glasses in those beautiful brown eyes.

“Please, Serapha. Put your arms around me and hold me.”

“O-of course. I wasn’t sure if I’d heard you correctly. I’ll hug you as long as you need. Until you feel better.” she responded, the words tumbling out.

Moving her leg so she was straddling the bench, she turned her body to face his. Her arms reached out tentatively, wrapping around his waist and chest, pulling his body closer to her until his shoulder was nestled between her breasts, enveloping him in her warmth.

Linhart sighed and leaned his head towards her body until it rested on her shoulder. Every selfish request he made, she was willing to help. What a wonderful girl.

His nose touched the sensitive side of her long, thin neck. His lips reached out and planted a small kiss, gentle and wet just above her collar bone. Serapha breathed suddenly, a sharp intake of air, and she clutched his body even tighter to her.

“Oh Gods…” she muttered. Her voice, a bit too loud, was filled with sexual tension.

It would be a while until he was back to normal. Able to touch a girl without feeling the need to insert his thing into her… to level her up. He would be happy once he was completely in control of his body again.

He relaxed his head against Serapha and watched as a small hand snaked towards him from his left, sliding softly over his pant leg. The small fingers pressed against the material, slowly as not to be perceived as they slid up the inside of his thigh.

“Ayame,” he said loud enough for her to hear. “What are you doing?”

The fingers froze, an inch from his groin, but she didn’t break contact.

“How do you know my name?” She deflected, suspicion thick in her voice.

He sighed and lifted his head to look her straight in her sharp eyes. This girl was just the same as well, unrepentant and ready to start trouble. What was he going to do with her and Saya?

“You can hold me, too, if you want to touch me that badly. Just don’t do anything creepy.”

Ayame stared at him unblinking, her bright eyes and pouty lips were framed cutely by her short blond hair. Then her gaze shifted, travelled up and down his profile and she grinned. “All right, nothing creepy…”

Without standing up, she rotated her hips. Her supple body flexed, as her bare foot passed in front of his face and then she was facing him. Her knees bumped into Serapha’s as she slid her body closer, but she spread them wider and slid closer still. Her hands twined over and under the other girl’s, not pulling him away from her, but claiming a share of him for herself. Her skirt bundled up against his side as her pelvis grinded into his hip.

“Hey!” Serapha protested, becoming aware of Ayame’s lewd proximity to him. But Linhart quickly reassured her.

“It’s okay, Sera. I know this girl, so just let it happen…”

“You don’t know me,” Ayame challenged him, purring into his ear. She had undone some buttons and her hand was already under his shirt, plucking at his pectoral muscles. “But you will soon.”

"Mmmm.." he hummed happily in response.

He was pleasantly turned on. His body relaxed and he enjoyed the warmth and light caresses as the two girls explored his body.

“Aaaa… don’t tickle,” he pleaded suddenly, his body spasming as Serapha’s fingers found that place just below his ribs.

His arms wrapped around both of them. And neither one complained when his hand went straight for their bottoms. He felt them lean into his grasp, as he squeezed a handful of soft round flesh through their skirts. Serapha's was softer, and Ayame's was twitching happily in his hand. He sighed, content to stay like that, a boy in the center of this luscious sandwich. He waited for the show to begin.

The girls had to turn back and straighten their clothing as Xenia entered the Ring, giving her regular spiel about what it means to be a Fighter. Linhart was only half-listening. His attention was on the four seniors that were accompanying Xenia. Their muscles bare and glistening with sweat. Fire in their eyes, ready to show the freshmen what real Fighting was about.

Maeve was not there.

There was Ami, Althea, Doreia, and the lean straw-haired senior, who he thought was named Helen. Where was Maeve?

The question stuck with him, as he watched the sparring take place, and the more he considered it, the worse his own prospects seemed to grow. She must have been taken by the Mnemon!

But the only way she could be gone already, was if the Mnemon’s reset point was earlier than his. Or perhaps the Mnemon was using time travel? Either way, that put him at a huge disadvantage. Not to mention the fact that he kept dying within the first few weeks of the loop. The Mnemon and the wizards must be using their time much more effectively than he has been doing.

The more he thought about it, the more the words of Mnemon stuck with him, like a curse echoing through his head… He was useless… USELESS!

He awoke from his dark reverie to the sensation of falling forward. Ayame had pushed him again and he had fallen to his knees at the edge of the Square.

“Excellent!” Xenia hauled him to his feet, “This feisty flower looks eager to fight.”

The roar of the audience filled his ears, and he turned back to Ayame with anger.

“Why did you push me, just now?” he demanded, ignoring the fact that Xenia and everyone else in the Pit were looking at him.

Ayame met his eyes, a sultry, unapologetic smile on her face.

“Because I want to see two hotties fighting,” she replied.

Linhart exhaled loudly, the anger draining out of him. He couldn’t deny that was a good reason. He’d do the same to her, likely. But Ayame had inadvertently helped him. The self-pity and feeling of being useless had disappeared in a flash. He had been in danger there, just for a moment. He had to keep one thing in mind, if he wanted to keep the feeling of futility at bay. And as Xenia walked him to the center of the ring his mind was focused on that one thing. Victory.

"Not a prisoner anymore... not a prisoner anymore." he chanted to himself, under his breath and in his head. The words nearly slipping out during his self-introduction to the crowd.

He was not going to let Drystan win this time. A sentiment that stayed with him as he shoved Drystan’s face into the hard stone, and as he twisted the tall boy's body like a pretzel. He racked Drystan’s arms backward like a bird extending its wings until he was begging for mercy. But Linhart couldn't afford to show mercy. He pulled at the boy's shirt, popping the buttons open one by one, and then wowed the crowd with his friend’s bare chest. He turned, presenting it to Xenia like a prize. The crowd was going wilder than ever before, but Xenia was quiet. Standing so near by, Linhart could see the emotions she was trying so hard to conceal. She smiled her wolfish grin.

She wasn't concerned with Drystan’s exposed skin. She was looking at Linhart with a barely-masked hunger. Let her look, he thought minutes later, as he dropped Drystan’s unconscious form to the ground. She wouldn’t take what she wants this time. He couldn’t afford to give Xenia what she wanted.

This time around he was not going to lose to anyone.

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