The Inheritance Paradox
Copyright© 2026 by aroslav
Chapter 27 (Eugene’s Story)
Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 27 (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 a long talk with Lynn after his Revolutionary War adventure. It was disconcerting. He found he was still fighting off the urges of Wells’s enhanced libido. He had a strong desire to simply take Lynn back to his apartment and treat her like the prostitutes in Philadelphia. He was a bad person at heart.
It’s all in your head.
“All in my head,” he repeated.
“Will it help to talk about it?” she asked as they ate their dinner on a date to Detroit. “I can tell your last meditation took a toll on you. Did you fall in love on another plane?”
“No. I mean I didn’t fall in love, but I ... It might help to talk about it. Perhaps not in the restaurant, though.”
“The weather is nice. Why don’t we stroll down the River Walk?”
They finished the meal in stressful silence and walked back to Eugene’s Corvair. It seemed so natural to hold hands as they walked. And when they arrived at the park, their hands were quickly joined again. It was a special connection between them. Lynn was six years younger than Eugene, but already, he’d aged an extra seven or eight years since they’d started dating.
She leaned against him, pressing her ear against his shoulder as if she could hear his thoughts transmitted by his bones.
“You know, I used to consider myself a good man,” Eugene sighed. “A sinner saved by grace, but essentially good.”
“You are a good man!”
“Thank you for believing in me,” he said softly. “But from the time I was in high school, I believed I was a good man because I was a Christian. I was washed in the blood of the lamb. I prayed before meals. I tithed my income. I did everything a good Christian should do. But then I didn’t. I let my own self-assurance become my downfall and used a woman for my carnal pleasure.”
“You were walking on a different plane,” Lynn said, believing he was talking only about his most recent ‘meditation.’
“I wish. I have been sent to other planes, as you refer to it, precisely because I’m not a good person. I am a seducer—a carnal user of women. I am supposed to pass on my genes. I don’t even understand why, other than to avoid some future catastrophe. It will come a time long after I’m even alive. And for this I am taking years off my life in one-second intervals,” Eugene said.
“What happened that set you on this path of self-recrimination?” Lynn asked, coming straight to the point.
“I impregnated four prostitutes. Simply paid them the coins they asked for and planted babies in them without their knowledge,” he said. “Oh, I’m sure they all expected the possibility that one of their clients would knock them up. But they didn’t know I would be the one.”
“Did you pay them well?”
That’s an unexpected question. I think Lynn’s morals are not that different from your own.
“Yes. More than they would ever expect. I wanted in some way to provide for the children and the mothers.”
“And you don’t consider that to be good? How many men who used those women would ever consider providing for them and their children?” Lynn asked.
Good question!
“It’s just common human decency. It isn’t in the realm of being good.”
“You consider that common?”
You should drop it. If you love her, don’t drive her away.
Eugene ignored Galahad’s advice. It was weighing on him. How could he expect her to love him when he was such a terrible person? Perhaps he felt he had to drive her away.
“You don’t understand,” he pled. “I’m a bad person. I’m not worthy of your love. When I’m with you ... when I’m holding your hand ... when we kiss, I am filled with lustful thoughts. Thoughts that I’m sure are what drives me when I travel to bed and breed other women. I want to make love to you, Lynn. I want sex. I want to plant my seed in you and have children with you. I’m not a good person!”
“I see. Hmm. I guess I’m not a good person either. I want you to bed and breed me,” Lynn said.
I didn’t expect that!
“Lynn...”
“No, Eugene. I am driven by the same lustful thoughts as you. I am only waiting for one thing before I throw myself into your arms and abandon my so-called virtue once and for all.”
“What? What would make you...”
“I want you to know, believe, and understand that it is because we love each other, and not because you have a mission. I want you to know I am your real life, and you no longer need to travel to past lives. When I know you have completed your mission and are free to simply love me, you will find me naked in your arms.”
“Even though I’ve defiled myself so many times over?”
“Eugene ... How can I say this? I don’t believe you are a bad person. And therefore, I don’t intend to forgive you. If you need forgiveness, go back to your god. I’m not in that business. I believe, however, that you want to make the world a better place and you are doing it the only way you believe you can. Are your actions always pure and noble? No. Does that prevent them from making the world a better place? Also no. The destination is the same. The path is all that differs.”
“It seems that could be used to justify any action because it might still make the world a better place,” Eugene said, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her fingers.
“No. I believe there is real evil. War is evil. We participate in it out of a lack of good ideas. Cruelty is evil. Anything that does not lead to a better world is evil. But when an act our limited minds consider bad is the only way to make it a better place, I cannot call that evil.”
They stopped at an overlook where they could see the City of Detroit on one side and the river on the other. While there was a stark contrast between the two, the view from the top of the little hill showed clearly a world where many kinds of beauty existed.
They kissed.
As they held each other, Eugene felt a kind of peace wash over him. It was unlike anything he had felt since that magical night so long ago, when he and Rachel held hands at church camp.
Time in his own timeline seemed to pass more quickly than when he traveled and he wondered if he was, indeed, time traveling to this reality just as he did to other times and places. He could not decide what he should do and how he could stop traveling.
Thus, he fought off the disorientation of arriving in the LBT. He faced Wells and was simply pointed to the changing room where he found his next ‘costume.’
“How does all this fit? What is it? Scottish?” Eugene asked.
“Seventeenth century. Galahad should be able to connect to the instructions here.”
Oh, this isn’t so complicated, I think.
Eugene began following Galahad’s instructions, assembling his blouse, kilt, hose, flashes, ghillie brogues, belt, sporran, and cloak. To the belt he attached a basket-hilted sword and put a sgian dubh knife in his hose where Galahad directed.
“Wait. There’s no underwear here,” Eugene called.
“You’re going to be a Scotsman. You don’t need underwear,” Wells called back.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Is that really true?”
I don’t think you’ll want anything under your kilt.
“You’ll find a few coins in your sporran. Don’t worry about what they are worth. Just give one or two to your conquests. You won’t be there long enough to need to spend money on anything else.”
“What’s this all about? I take it I’m going to Scotland. When? Before the English coins were adopted there?”
“Yes. Mid-seventeenth century. We’ve spotted another migratory path. Not sure what sparked it, but by the first of the eighteenth century, there was a steady flow out of the Firth of Forth to America. There were really no great ports on the west coast of Scotland. It’s a tumultuous time, so I don’t want you to stay there long. Find a prospect and breed her. You look like a gentleman, so peasant girls should fall over themselves to check under the kilt.”
“What is this tartan? Will I need to identify myself? What if someone recognizes it?” Eugene asked.
“It isn’t in the tartan registry. You’re going to deal with lower classes. If you’re asked to identify yourself, make up a name and say you are from the far west islands,” Wells said.
How about Ewan MacEugen?
“Okay. I can be Ewan MacEugen,” Eugene answered. “Sounds similar. Do I need anything else? If I don’t have to spend a month or two, so much the better.”
“I’ve uploaded coordinates to Galahad. You’ll be arriving in early August.”
“Fine. Let’s go. The sooner I get back to my own bed the better.”
My, but you’re gung ho.
Momentary disorientation was all Eugene had time for.
“The days shorten
The light goes out
The summer passes
The harvest calls forth sacrifice
Requires sacrifice
To make the passage safe
To winter
Come Laird and keep us safe”
The women were chanting and dancing around the fire when Eugene suddenly appeared among them. A woman looked him straight in the eye, took his hands and spun, passing him to the next woman who also looked into his eyes before passing him on. The chant ended, but the dancing and clapping continued until Eugene found himself facing the first woman again. She stopped the dance and chanted in a sing-song voice:
“The Laird has come
Will keep us safe
Will comfort us in winter
To plant the seeds that sprout in spring
A new harvest quickly coming”
Eugene thought he should say something, but the woman kissed him thoroughly, then passed him on to her left. The next woman in the circle kissed him as well. There were twelve women gathered and they each tried to kiss him more thoroughly than the one before.
“We caught you!” a man’s voice sounded from beyond the clearing. Torches broke into the open area held by men brandishing pitchforks and scythes.
“Take them to the magistrate! Try them for their witchcraft!” The men pressed forward. “We’ve seen their evil ways.”
“Jonathan O’Tàileach, why do you come to interrupt us? Did you hope to catch us skyclad?” the woman Eugene first saw stepped up beside him.
The other women crowded close behind them. They were not skyclad, but all wore simple shifts that might normally have been worn under other clothing. It was a warm night, though, and they had a hot fire.
“We caught you witches with your demon lover. We’ll put him to death and then we’ll take you to be tried and burned,” the man who looked to be the leader said.
“I object to that,” Eugene said. “I’m a man, not a demon. I happened upon this gathering and was greeted warmly, unlike you. Go away and don’t be talking nonsense. What have you seen of witchcraft?”
“Jonathan, you’ve known for as long as you’ve been alive that the women come to dance at Lughnasad. It’s that priest in the village that got you fired up. If you want to burn someone, go try him for his lustiness and burn him. There’s not a woman among us he hasn’t tried to handle,” the women’s leader said.
“You can’t speak against the priest!” one of the men shouted.
“Can and will,” the woman said. “He’s a filthy man who would lie with any one of your wives or daughters.”
Sounds familiar.
“Now tell me, if you wish to destroy all these fine women, who will then warm your beds, raise your children, and cook your meals? Do you all plan to become papish monks?” Eugene demanded. “Are women so plentiful in your village and farms that you can afford to waste even one?”
“Who are you, son of Satan?” barked Jonathan.
“No son of Satan, I assure you. I’m Ewan MacEugen from the far western reaches, sent from my clan with messages for the king,” Eugene said.
“I’ve never heard of a clan MacEugen,” one of the men near the leader said.
“And you know all the two hundred clans of Scotland? We’re a small and isolated folk, but we’re as fierce to protect what is ours as any. And this night, I’ll protect those around this fire. Lay down your weapons and torches so you can join in the harvest festivity or go back to your homes and beds to wait for your women to finish,” Eugene said.
“You’ve heard the Laird,” the woman said. “Would you contradict a messenger to the king?”
“Aye, no. We had no idea you were here on a mission,” Jonathan said. “It looked like ... We thought ... The priest said...” He looked at his companions and they shrugged.
“I wouldn’t take my pitchfork against his claymore,” one of the men said, backing away. Soon the others were backing away as well and Jonathan started to leave as well.
“Don’t you be staying out all night, Brighde. Your red hair makes you a target for fellows like him,” he said pointing at Eugene. Then he turned and hurried after his companions.
They might lie in wait.
“Will you all be safe?” Eugene asked.
“Oh, they came from the tavern, and they’ll return to the tavern,” Brighde said. “By morning, they’ll all be too hung over to remember they ever came to the woods. Now, my Laird Ewan. Come and dance with us.”
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