Chapter 1

“Our current issue is this: The Chathurian, due to its nature as a being of Source, cannot be stopped by known Caretaker technology. Thus, I propose that we block the entrance with a dimensional manifold - a fictive event cycle, populated with specifically chosen multiversal denizens to create a non-Source blockage!” Thirty Three said, gesturing with one of her infinite arms at the glowing collection of glyphs and symbols that she was projecting against the wall. “We pick them from the fictive edge of things, and it’ll be quite secure! If you look at the files I’ve handed out, you can see the selection I’ve chosen...”

“Hurm.” A long slow sigh came from the darkness. “Miss Celestine Nexus Thirty Three ... are you aware that the copyright holders of these particular characters have, at this point, filed an injection against the multiverse?”

“Um...”

“Are you also aware that, currently, the Source Caretakers owe the Warner Brothers’ Pictures and, through them, the WarnerMedia conglomerate, an astounding seventy six billion dollars in transversal damages, to be paid to Earth-Prime as soon as the end of the year?” The voice was getting angrier now. “We, who have existed since the dawn of time, are now paying royalties to a trumped up inner plane bunch of primate semi-evolved apes, over a copyright dispute of a fictive human being that already existed in the outward spiral!”

“B-But-”

“And you want us to further this shame by drawing the ire of ... of the Walt Disney Corporation? Hasbro? Fucking CBS!?” Two palms slammed down from the darkness to the desk, jarring the crystalline projector that displayed the plan to contain the Chathurian. “Do you think that the Source Caretakers are made of money?”

“No, but the Chathurian, it’ll destroy the ... the everything! The multiverse is at stake, Mr-”

“Find another way, Thirty Three!”

Miss Celestine Nexus Thirty Three yelped as her boss, the Source Caretaker Abraxiaus, practically threw her out of his meeting room with her tail between her legs. In the dizzying torus that was the Source of the Multiverse, she looked out at the massive gridwork of spars and branches and threads that interwove with shimmering perfection that was the Source itself. Throbbing. Pulsing. A beautiful gemstone of pure light and ultimate darkness, intermixing and forming into all the endless potentiality of the multiverse. From it threaded out streamers of light that, in turn, each ended at a sparking light in the grayish sky beyond the inner edge of the Source Wall.

Those points were each a universe.

Thirty Three knew so many by name, and yet, knew she experienced but a fraction of them. Even a transdimensional being had limitations. But she could imagine every cherished place - every weird backward universe where life never formed or where the clouds tasted like candy - being crushed one by one by the Chathurian.

All if she didn’t stop it.

Then the idea hit her.

She hurried to her office, where her secretary, SparkySparky was hurriedly filling out his will.

“Sparky to the Power of Sparky!” Thirty Three exclaimed. Sparky and his infinite recursive echo-selves, visible as a perpetually receding lines of Sparkies, all startled at once, their yelp echoing over one another. “What are you doing!?”

“F-Filling ... the ... we’re all going to d-”

“We’re not going to die! Get me the file on Universe ... uh... 998-118-11-11-11-11-22...” She rattled off the number as SparkySparky sprang to his feet and started to search. After six or so minutes, she wrapped with: “Zipper Tango Urilla Klendathu.”

“Got it!” SparkySparky said, holding up the file. Thirty Three snagged it, opened it, and yanked out the file on a person from this universe. A bright eyed, scowling fusion of human and cat, with blue and yellow eyes glared out from the shimmering mass of light that was her file. She was dressed in a red tunic, tattered red pants, and did not wear shoes. Her hair was a wild mane of brown hair, poofing around her head like she was a transgendered lioness.

“Why are we looking up Cat-” SparkySparky asked, before Thirty Three slapped one of her infinite arms over all of his infinite mouths.

“SHHHH!” Thirty Three hissed. She set the file down, took out a pen, then scribbled out the name, before writing in Kittenra. She nodded, slowly, then capped the pen with a fiendish grin. “Yes. That might work.”

“You have to be kidding,” SparkySparky whispered.

“If this plan works, they can’t sue us. And if the plan fails, they won’t be around to sue us!” Thirty Three said, grinning excitedly. “Win win!”

SparkySparky gulped. “How are you going to swing this past the Caretakers?”

Thirty Three looked down at the chart. “ ... I’m not,” she whispered. “Find me someone from Earth-Prime that can be used for the core of this.”

SparkySparky looked nervous, but slowly, he nodded. “Okay.” He sighed. “One truck coming right up. Should we get another Japanese kid?”

“Nah, they’re oversaturated,” Thirty Three said, already taking out more files and hastily rewriting names.

“Who should I nab then?” SparkySparky sounded unsure.

“I dunno, roll a die!” Thirty Three said, then muttered. “Supergirl can be ... Super ... Lady! There! Perfect.”

SparkySparky sighed. “We’re going to get sued,” he said, then turned to his computer, and started to scroll through Prime-Earth’s many potential targets – and cycled through variegated causes of death.

And in the center of the Source, like a tiny knot of cancer, the eye of the Chathurian opened.

Eager for its sport.

“WHAAA!?”

Blankets slipped aside and Aiden jerked up, out of bed, and onto the floor with a thump. He sprawled on his belly, kicking his legs, and then sat up again. He blinked several times, sweat beading on his face, dripping along his cheeks, and gleaming on his bare chest. “Zuh?” he asked, then tried to think of words that made sense. “Bwuah?” Okay, still not working. He closed his eyes.

The last thing he remembered, before waking up here, was going out to buy some groceries for his family ... and a blaring sound of a horn, turning around, and a full on semi rushing right at his face. The reason why this seemed a mite odd to Aiden, right now, was that he had been inside the shopping mall at the time.

Aiden rubbed his palms against his face, and took a look around the room.

Then he took a look at himself.

Then he said, out loud: “Whoa, wait, my name’s not Aiden?”

In order: The room was a beautiful one, easily twice as big as his bedroom. There was a bookshelf full of books, a window looking out at a narrow alleyway and then another apartment building - so he was in a flat? - and there was a computer that looked like it cost literally an arm and several legs to run, let alone to own. His bed was huge and comfortable and his sheets looked quite soft and comforting, with a thick blanket capping it all.

His body was a wild shock. When Aiden had been run down by the semi-truck, he had been a ... a regular guy. Not super skinny, but also not super fat. He hadn’t had much in the way of muscles, and the most interesting thing about him had been that he had a birthmark that looked almost identical to the state of Kansas on his hip. Now? Now he had the body of an Olympic athlete in the field of being a hot twink. Flat sleek muscles, firm abdominal muscles, strong arms, fingers that were long and graceful. He looked good in a speedo and not like a total dork.

His hands pressed to his cheeks and he felt that his face was sleek and smooth, without acne or stubble or nothing.

And finally, the fact he wasn’t named Aiden. Last time he had checked, he was named Eugene Dalbert, which on the scale of cool names ranked somewhere above Dwight and below Gertrude. At least Gertrude could be shortened to Trudy, Trudy was a cool name...

Aiden shook his head. He stood up and walked to the computer desk. Was there a note or something? Or his phone?

Yes! He had a phone. He picked it up and fiddled with it, getting it unlocked thanks to his thumb print and started to skim through his IMs and DMs and PMs. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing! He didn’t even have a Twitter app on this phone. There were just his contacts, the notepad and...

Aiden tapped the notepad. Nothing. He tapped contacts.

There we go!

Step-Mom

Step-Sister

And that was it.

“ ... I have two brothers,” Aiden whispered. “What the fuck is going on?”

He turned on the phone camera and yelped as he saw that not only did he look completely different - but he had purple eyes. Aiden closed his eyes, closed the phone off, then set it down. He put his hands over his face. “Okay, Eugene, you’re...” He slid his hands away from his face and frowned. “Eugene.”

For some reason, it felt wrong to call him that. Even that was his name. Aiden sighed. “Fuck. Aiden. Fine. It’s ... a sexier name for this ... dream? Are you dreaming?” Aiden walked over to the bed, sat down on it, and froze as he saw that he could see right into another bedroom through the window – the bedroom of the apartment in the apartment block right next to his apartment block. In that bedroom stood a girl ... a very pretty girl. She was slender and athletic, with a cute taut belly and lithe arms that were, currently, lifted above her head as she stretched in her nightie, which dangled around her hips. Her skin was dusky brown and her hair was short, dark, and a bit bed-head-ey. He could see the hard points of her eager nipples against the silky texture of her outfit, and Aiden opened his mouth to ... to say something, but he had no idea what it was.

The girl, unaware that he was watching, took hold of her nightie and whisked it up and above her head, turning her back to him – meaning that he only got an outstanding view of the tightest ass he had ever seen in his life.

Aiden grabbed the curtains and swept them shut with a rattling clack, his cock achingly hard against his speedo. “H-Holy shit,” he whispered, softly. Then he noticed how far his cock was getting beyond the edge of his speedo - hardening more and more by the instant as he went from thinking he was average to realizing he was anything but now. His cocktip throbbed against his belly button as his member was trapped against his belly by his speedo and Aiden blushed, hard, as he sat on the bed.

“I think this might be a good dream,” he whispered. It felt so real, though. He glanced at the window, peeking through the curtains, and caught a sliver of of the gorgeous ... he wanted to say she was a Latina, but he was honestly not sure ... skimming on a small set of panties and then sweeping on a purple plaid skirt. He jerked back before she noticed him – and then tugged his speedo forward to free his cock. It bounced, then throbbed in the air before him, jutting out away from his hips.

The urge to slide his hand along his perfect belly muscles, and then close his palm around the base of his throbbing cock was so intensely overpowering that Aiden only jerked his hand away from himself when his fingers grazed the edge of his cock. He bit his lip to keep from moaning huskily. Inside of him were two wolves - and both of them wanted him to jerk off until he could barely walk. But Aiden didn’t know if this was a dream or ... something else ... and...

“Fuck it,” he whispered. He dropped to his knees on the bed, the mattress squeaking as his hand began to pump his cock. He opened the curtain with a single finger, panting – guilt only adding delicious thrilling spice to this. He peered through at the Latina girl, who was still shirtless, holding up a bra, looking as if she was deeply considering her options. This meant his eyes were able to devour the sight of her perky, perfect, modest breasts. He wanted to suck on them so badly...

Aiden groaned, his cock throbbing his hand as he pumped faster and faster. His hips began to buck as he grunted softly, pleasure swelling and bursting behind his eyes as his balls tightened and he shuddered and-

“Aiden?”

He yelped and released his cock, which felt so achingly close to release that he swore he was about to cum right then and there. He spun around and grabbed his blankets, holding them close to his body to try and hide what he had been doing. Then ... all thoughts of jerking off, of orgasm, of dreams and dream logic, exploded out of Aiden’s head like he had just been shot with a shotgun. Because standing in the door to his room, looking as flustered and shocked as he felt...

Was a purple girl.

A girl. Who was purple. A purple skinned member of the species homo sapiens who was purple. Homo Purpura Sapiens. Grape colored girlfriend. Purple.

“Imsosorry!” she squeaked, then jerked back and slammed the door, hard. She had been wearing glasses and a uniform – purple plaid skirts, white blouse, and black blazer. Aiden’s cheeks burned and he mouthed the words ‘what the absolute fuck’ as his cock softened and his balls turned (figuratively) blue.

When he had found his own school uniform - purple pants, white shirt, dark black blazer - and had gotten them on, he also found his wallet, which claimed that he was Aiden Shine. His eyes were amethyst, his birthday was 1/1/-18 and he had three different credit cards, all of them labeled in some different variation of something called Dimensional Bank. He also had a condom that was sized for an eighteen inch dick. He hadn’t measured, but he wasn’t surprised. When he stepped to the door and opened it, then peeked out, he saw no sign of the purple girl. He started past her bedroom - and saw it was just stuffed with books and papers and more books in various states of being opened and read.

Aiden walked past a shower and bathroom, then past a room clearly set aside for gaming and entertainment, then came to a flight of stairs. He started doing some mental math on how much a penthouse apartment with two stories like this would cost and ball-parked it somewhere in the order of fifty gajillion bazillion million dollars. As he meditated on that figure, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs and saw that his purple step sister was sitting at the breakfast table, with waffles and syrup and bacon and thick delicious runny eggs done to perfection ... across from a gorgeous, MILFy looking woman who was, no shit, honest to gods actual gray skin with multicolored purple and white hair – done in a kind of stripey pattern.

Said MILF was reading a newspaper which said DIMENSION TIMES. The headlining story was: New Dimension Exists – Everything Fine, Claims Caretakers of the Multiverse.

Aiden mouthed the words ‘what the absolute fuck’ to himself, while the purple girl and the gray skinned woman looked up at him. His brain processed and he realized that he was just gaping at them like a gormless idiot. “Good morning Aiden,” the MILFy one said, cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well ... enough...” Aiden said, stepping down to the kitchen table. There was a delicious meal he could only describe as Ghibli esque laid out before it – thick chunks of bacon, runny eggs, huge waffles, real honest to god actual Canadian maple syrup contained in glass jars, and huge cups of lemonade. He realized, suddenly, that he was starving. He sat down and started to heap up his plate.

“So, any good news, Mom?” the purple girl asked.

“Well, the dimension exists, so that’s nice,” her mom said, grinning. “I mean, it might have been fun to be a formless pit of chaos swirling above an infinite pit of demons, but that might have only been thrilling and exciting for a few seconds.”

“Y-Yeah. Thrilling.” Purple Girl looked concerned.

“I wonder if there’s a place to climb rocks,” her mom said, flipping through the newspaper.

“Mom...”

“Or a bungee jump!” The newspapers rustled. “Or a gladiatorial arena!” ‘

“Mom! No!”

Aiden, who had half a waffle and two sticks of butter in his mouth, chewed slowly. Then he choked. Purple skin. Nerdy tones. Glasses. Mom who was happy to throw herself into danger for the slightest bit of adventurous fun. His brain, toxified by years of marinating on the most boring and insipid parts of the internet, had finally awoken ancient memories. Memes and images and, yes, an alarming amount of pornography from a time just before his, carried by the wizened elders of his internet space (I.E, thirty year olds.) They all were pointing too...

“Yhhru Twihhuhh Sphhle!” He said, mouth full of waffle, thrusting a now syrup dripping fork directly at the purple girl.

“What? No,” she said. “I’m Evening Glitter.”

Aiden choked on his waffle. He swallowed. Coughed. “What? No, you’re T-”

The doorbell rang. Five. Six. Seven times. No, eight. No ... it was still ringing. Aiden looked over at the door, frowning as the ringing stopped. Then it rang five more times. “Fine, I’ll get this,” he said, holding up his hand as he hurried over to the door. He opened it to find himself looking directly at a very cute looking brunette girl. She was shorter than he was by about a head and dressed in the same schoolgirl outfit that his very purple apparently adoptive sister.

“ ... do ... I kno-”

“Duuuuuuuude! Ix-nay on acty name real say,” the girl hissed.

“What? That’s not pig Latin!”

She shot him a glare, pointed her fingers at her eyes, then at him, then back to her eyes. Then she held up her fingers into a V and thrust her tongue through it with a suggestive licking gesture. Then she was off, walking down the corridor of the apartment building, humming as she bounced from side to side.

Something about her voice had been very familiar. His brow furrowed. Aiden lifted his finger, opened his mouth, then reconsidered what he had been about to say as too absolutely silly ass. Then he remembered everything he had seen today. So he shrugged and called down the corridor: “Yo! Kyu!”

The girl turned back and threw up her hands, in frustration. She came jogging back. “Duuuude!” she hissed. “Do you want us to all get sued here? My name is Kyute.”