“Rhymescribe!” said Bryce, “I thought we’d gotten off your earth. Do you mean that this is your home address?”

“Sure, but where’d you get the Captain Miniature outfit? I’ve never drawn it for the online readers. Its appearance is only in my head. Not to mention the question of where’d you get the key to my house?” asked the man, “And what did you call me?”

“Your pen name of Rhymescribe,” said Jacoby, “We took off from your office before, but somehow ended up back in your universe.”

“My universe? I’m Timescribe, and boy do you have some explaining to do.”

“Oh no. Not another one,” said Bryce, “Jacoby, just how many of these fictionalizing universes with their own earths could there be?”

“Don’t ask me,” said Jacoby, “Until today I only knew of the four regular earths, if you can call the size differences of their inhabitants any indication of regularity.”

For the next few minutes, they explained to Timescribe in detail their encounter on Rhymescribe’s earth.

“So it would seem that I’m also tuned into the realities of earths A, B, G and T,” said Timescribe, “When I wrote about you, Jacoby, I based your house on mine. That’s why you came here, and why your key works. You didn’t find any publications at the shops here, because I haven’t achieved the same recognition as Rhymescribe did on his earth. My stories about you guys are all in plain narrative, not poetry, and they’re only published online, and read for free.”

“So what do we call this earth? Not to mention how do we leave it?” asked Bryce.

“Will Earth-Prose do for a name, and I can’t solve your other problem,” said Timescribe, “Except that if I were writing a solution, I’d say just try the Slipper Cycle again and hope that the dimension storm takes you back to your own earth this time.”

“It’s all we can do,” said Jacoby, “It’s been great to meet you, Timescribe. Keep the yarns about us coming. You really deserve to have your stuff in the stores.”

“I guess my counterpart might be writing about this even now and rhyming vore with store,” said Timescribe, “I’m surprised I didn’t tune into what was happening with him.”

“Given a few hours, you probably would have, unless it’s impossible for you two fictionalizers to imagine things about each other, only about us,” said Jacoby, “Well here we go again, Bryce. Give us a good write-up, Timescribe.”

They shrank again and went back to the Slipper Cycle and into the dimensional void.

“That Timescribe’s got good staying power,” said Bryce.

“Yes. I think he’ll get his published author status one day. It’s a shame he can’t realise his giantess fantasy on his world too, like I can on ours,” said Jacoby.

They passed through more of the storm and then materialized in some soft white sticky substance and couldn’t even get off the Slipper Cycle.

“It smells like jelly,” said Bryce and tasted some, “It’s partly transparent, and it is jelly. Look, there’s berries and small bits of chopped up fruit mixed into it.”

They looked up through the jelly to see a beautiful woman holding a spoon, which was dripping jelly. She licked it, which was an amazing sight, and then looked down at the jelly again.