Mick was lying in bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of saggy boxer shorts and a blanket that covered him from the belly button down. At a glance, seemed naked and incredibly aroused by the arrival of a sex scene on the television at the foot of the bed, which he was. Before he knew it, he had one hand on his underwear and the other reaching for his phone after shutting off the TV.
He let out a tired sigh, unenthused as he followed the same procedure of opening an incognito tab and starting the preliminary rubbing. It was 2pm on a Tuesday and this was to be his second wank of the day. Of course, he didn’t really want to but at this point in his unemployment he had classically conditioned himself to expect a wank when certain criteria were met. Being alone, exposed to explicit images and completely unrestrained from touching his groin. The masturbatory trifecta.
Sadly for Mick, when you never leave the house and watch torrented episodes of Game of Thrones everyday, these conditions are met quite often. So he trawled through the ever popular incest videos and stumbled upon some seemingly acceptable smut that could get the job done quickly. That was important to Mick. He didn’t want this taking longer than necessary. The pre-roll advert played its course as he ashamedly recited it in unison, then the video began.
With an intense flash of blue light and a fizzle of electricity, a spectre was teleported into the corner of the bedroom, by a mound of dirty clothes and DVDs. Mick squealed in the most dignified fashion that the situation permitted, covering himself and waiting for the light to dim so his eyes could adjust. The blast of energy faded to reveal a haggard man of around fifty years, dressed in ill fitting cargo trousers and a heavily stained track jacket. His hair was unevenly buzzed and his beard was unkempt, with bits of bread crumbs peppering the chin area.
“Who the fuck!?” Mick scream after assessing the man.
“Mick! Don’t you see, Mick?” The old man reached out a shaking, visibly sticky hand. “I’m you from thirty years in the future!” Come to think of it, he did look a lot like Mick, but a lot more disgusting. “I’ve travelled back to stop this wank, Michael. To save your from -- Could you turn that off?” The sound of foreplay dialogue muffled from the phone under the blanket was distracting the Ragged Old Mick. “If you wank now, it will start an irreversible chain of events, leading you to be so lazy and so unmotivated that you end up as me,” A tear quivered in his eye as he gestured to himself. “A useless old fool, living each day for the wanks.”
Needless to say, Mick was shaken to his core. His erection was lost and long forgotten, like an unknown fallen soldier.
“Fine, I won’t do it.” The young man said, to the elder’s relief. “I’ll do it later.”
“No!” Haggard Mick shrieked. “Not now, not ever! Any carnal act would spiral you back!”
Mick’s eyes widened as he imagined a life without his only hobby, and to a lesser extent, without sex. He’d lived a life without sex for three years, which made it easier to imagine. He saw the sadness in the eyes of his future self. Not just the eyes. From dirty head to unclipped toe, this man looked miserable.
“Okay… No more.” The two smiled on Mick’s declaration with a brighter future in mind.
With another flash and a fizzle, Mick expected the old man to disappear, now that his mission was complete. Instead, he saw another figure phase into a corner on the opposite side of the room. The blue light dimmed, revealing another mid-fifties male, dressed in a futuristic pinstripe suit. It was Mick’s future self.
“Mick wait! I’m here to stop your from not wanking.” The Suited Mick said. Decrepit and Young Mick were staggered. “If you never wank again, you’ll end up like me! Sexually repressed, miserable and alone.”
“But you look successful, you look clean,” Young Mick glanced to his less filthy future self with a cringe. “Why wouldn’t I want to be you?” Successful Mick tutted and shook his head, making it clear that money and a career isn’t enough to make a man truly happy.
“So what am I supposed to do, guys? I wank, I end up a dirty slob like you,” Decrepit Mick nodded in disgrace, “Or I don’t wank and I end up unloved and alone like you,” Successful Mick grimaced with an affirmative hum.
“Maybe you could just wank less. Keep an eye on overdoing it?” Successful Mick humbly suggested.
“It’s really an all or nothing kind of deal.” Decrepit Mick admitted, backed by Young Mick’s agreement.
“Unless I got a girlfriend?” Young Mick chimed in optimistically. The older Micks squirmed, shaking their heads unfortunately.
“Yeah, no…” Successful Mick mumbled, “That doesn’t happen…” Every Mick in the room was lost in the memory of their shared sexual exploits. As few and far between as they were. The Micks let their eyes wander to the porn that was frozen on the phone screen at the foot of the bed. This lasted for quite some time, certainly too much time as the trio realised that all of the masturbatory criteria had been met. They looked awkwardly to each other then slid their hands onto their groins, almost in synchronicity. In a flash, they were sharing the bed and swapping hands from one another until unified completion.
Lying in the afterglow and holding a close embrace, the Micks all seemed to be more sedate now. Especially Successful Mick.
“Well, no more Micks have shown up. We probably did something right.” One Mick said.
“Unless this leads to some future where we die before time travel is invented.” Another Mick said, calling for more hums of agreement.
“I don’t think so,” Successful Mick leaned on his elbow to face the others, “I think we saved ourselves today and learned something more important. No matter how bad things get, as long as you love yourself, it’ll all be okay.” They smiled proudly and shared a tight hug of true affection.
Six months later, Mick would be jailed for masturbating in the toilets of a public library. With all the free time of prison, Mick would go on to tug himself into severe dehydration, leading to his death, twenty years before time travel technology was developed. What a wanker.