The Inheritance Paradox
Copyright© 2026 by aroslav
Chapter 24 (Eugene’s Story)
Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 24 (Eugene’s Story) - A gripping tale of time travel, family secrets, and redemption. Nathaniel Holbrook uncovers his father’s extraordinary past, spanning centuries and shaping humanity’s future, while confronting profound truths about legacy, love, and identity. A thought-provoking journey through time, history, and the enduring bonds of family.
Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Historical Time Travel
EUGENE HAD BEEN traveling to other times for months. He always told the stories to Lynn, and she usually responded by saying something like, “What a strange dream.” He was beginning to think it was hurting their relationship, though. He’d begun to treat the stories like they were just dreams, but that seemed to trivialize what he felt, and Lynn liked the stories less. Worst of all, it led him to treat the people in his time travel as if they didn’t really count—or weren’t real.
Eugene had asked Lynn to marry him on her birthday in March, but she hadn’t yet answered him. He thought he’d been clever. He bought her a fancy mirror and had written on the edge, “I love you. Will you marry me.” He’d written it backwards, but he was sure she’d figure out that all she had to do was hold a hand mirror up to see it clearly. She’d been enthused about the gift, and they’d made out rather intensely that evening. But they’d pushed away slightly when it looked like it could get serious.
“I don’t think it’s quite the right time for that yet,” she’d said.
“No. You’re right,” Eugene answered. “I need to stop this insane time traveling before we go any further. Do you think I should see a psychiatrist?”
It won’t stop.
“It might help. Can you talk about it with anyone but me?”
“I don’t know. I often think it’s over and then I get snatched up in the middle of the night and I’m gone. I don’t even know any longer if it’s real or imaginary.”
“Oh, sweetheart, if you don’t stop soon, you’ll be too old for me.”
She smoothed his balding head. Of all the evidence that his travel was real, this was the most profound. Whenever he was gone for a year or more, he came back with his hairline receding noticeably farther. He resolved to question Dr. Wells and get an end date.
Wells will never willingly let go of you.
“I need to quit soon. This is destroying my real life,” Eugene said the next time he landed in the LBT. “Lynn thinks I just visit another life during meditation, or that I’m just dreaming. I’m beginning to think she’s right. I’ve been doing this for months. I’ve been getting women pregnant in the twelfth through the nineteenth centuries. What kind of man does that? And how do I even know it’s been real? Are you just a figment of my imagination, too?”
Wells took Eugene’s watch from him and examined it closely.
“You don’t appear to be near your expiration date. I thought giving you a couple of weeks between trips to ground yourself in your own time would help to alleviate those questions,” Wells said. “You bring things back from each of your trips. Doesn’t that help?”
Your wonderful collection of stuff.
“A ribbon. A coin. A button. Things I could have picked up off the street and made up a story about,” he answered.
“Let’s try someplace easier to acclimatize to and see if you can get home quicker,” Wells said.
“That’s one of my biggest concerns. No matter what my opinion of it being a dream or a past life experience, I come back older. Lynn actually said I’d be too old for her soon. I really have to stop.”
“This one shouldn’t take you more than a month or so. See how much you can spread your seed around.”
Wells strapped him back in the chair and Eugene could feel additional doses of something injected.
Hmm. Upping your testosterone. Don’t go around getting in random fights.
“This looks like a colonial American outfit,” Eugene said when he was released from the chair and went to change into his costume for this trip. “Not too well off, but a gentleman, I’d say.”
That will be new for you.
“You are headed to Philadelphia in 1775. You’ll need your greatcoat on. It’s winter,” Wells said. “Your satchel contains a change of clothes and the tools of your trade.”
Eugene looked into the satchel and withdrew a quill, an inkpot, and sheets of parchment.
“What exactly is my trade?”
“Secretary. You have some acceptable coins. There isn’t really an American currency yet. Twelve pence to a shilling, five shillings to a crown, and four crowns to a pound. You should have enough to get you meals and a room in a tavern. Possibly even bedmates. If my summary of the situation is correct, your services will be required.”
This is a risky time of history. Be careful which side of the trenches you camp on.
“They need breeders?” Eugene snapped.
“It helps not to have a conscience,” Wells responded. “You really don’t need to fall in love with every girl you fuck.”
“What a lovely sentiment.”
“You were not chosen because of your high moral character. Nor did you accept out of a commitment to save the world. You were chosen specifically because of your ability to get into a woman’s panties—if she is wearing any—and get her pregnant. And for your moral flexibility.”
That sums it up in a nutshell, doesn’t it?
“I am a disgusting turd. I find morals knocking on my door, begging to be admitted.”
“Keep them at bay. You will find few people who act out of a sense of moral purity in this world, and most are not pleasant people. They still contribute to the greater good, usually, even if they are motivated by money, power, sex, ego, or pride.”
Are you really any different, Eugene?
“So, I’m to arrive in the colonies with the cover of being a secretary—looking for work, I assume—and I’m to bed whatever woman I find who is willing, then leave her to her own devices for the future. No thought of how my progeny will be cared for? No thought of the woman’s reputation? Just bed a woman and leave?”
“Exactly. Now, Galahad will guide you and get you to the right place. If you are given an order, just follow it,” Wells directed.
Eugene sat in the chair with the satchel held tightly and his hat perched on his head. He felt a moment’s disorientation and found himself near a waterfront tavern.
“Why do I always arrive hungry?” he growled with his stomach.
You started in the middle of the night and were at least a couple of hours in Wells’s laboratory.
“Well, food and drink sound like a good idea now. We’ve arrived at nightfall,” he said.
This place looks good enough for that. Don’t flash your money around. This looks like a rowdy bunch of sailors.
Eugene entered the tavern, which happened also to be a brewhouse. It smelled of greasy dinner and unwashed ruffians. He was concerned that his modest but clean clothes would make him a target. Nonetheless, he found a corner where he could flag the barman and order a beer.
“I’m new here,” Eugene said. “I need hot meals and a room for the next week.”
“That will be four shillings a night,” the barman said.
That’s within your budget.
Eugene nodded. The barman pointed him to a table with a couple of other men at it.
“Sit there. Meal includes a glass of beer. More beers are four pence each. Patience will bring your food. Don’t bother asking her questions. She doesn’t talk.”
Probably named Patience because it’s what’s required to be near her.
“I’ll suffer her silence.”
The barman nodded and collected the daily rate. Eugene sat with the two men at the table. They were both reasonably well-dressed and smelled less of beer than the rest of the place.
“You must be the secretary,” the first man said.
“Why, yes I am,” Eugene answered, a little surprised that he’d been recognized.
“I thought you’d never get here. We need to get started. Get your materials out and I’ll start talking to people.”
Employed already.
Eugene got a sheet of paper, inkpot, and quill out.
Sharpen the quill and split it.
He found a small knife in his pack and followed Galahad’s instructions on how to prepare the quill and get ready to write. Before his companion stood to speak, the woman he assumed was Patience arrived at the table with a plate of sausage and boiled potatoes. He had a hunk of bread alongside his beer.
The other men at the table snorted and the first stood up on his chair.
“Hear you all!” he shouted. “This day, the Continental Congress resolved that two battalions of Marines be created. Care will be taken to see that no person is enlisted into these battalions save that they are good seamen, or so well-acquainted with maritime affairs to be able to serve by sea. Such men will serve during the current war between Great Britain and the Colonies. This evening of 10 November 1775, I Samuel Nicholas, by authority of the Continental Congress, will begin registering the names of those who wish to enlist. Be orderly in your approach to this table and do not come here if you are drunk. You will register your names as befits a warrior of the Continental Marines.”
Nicholas resumed his seat next to Eugene and noted he had his implements ready at one hand while he fed himself with the other. It was not a sudden rush to the table by volunteers. The men in the tavern turned to discuss the situation with each other—which was not much different than the discussions and arguments going on before the announcement.
Eventually, a man who was not staggering to the extent many others in the tavern were, approached the table.
“I want to join up,” he said bluntly.
“Leave a space at the top,” the young man on Eugene’s left directed him. “We’ll fill in the enlistment information when we have them all signed.”
“Good,” said Nicholas. “Are you presently serving aboard a ship?”
“A merchant vessel at the dock.”
“Name?” the other man next to Eugene said.
The would-be Marine turned to look at him.
“It’s all right,” Nicholas said. “Mr. Mullen is my recruiter. And Mr...?” He turned to Eugene.
“Holbrook,” Eugene said.
“Mr. Holbrook is my secretary. He will record the names.”
“Aye, sir,” the recruit said. “Franklin Collis.”
Eugene wrote down the name, leaving the prescribed space at the top of the sheet. Mr. Mullen continued asking questions regarding age and place of birth, then his current residence in Philadelphia. Eugene wrote everything down then turned the paper and quill to the man to sign his name. He made a mark and Eugene witnessed it. The first man had been enlisted in the Continental Marines. Nicholas gave the man instructions on where to report on Monday morning at six in the morning.
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