Brandon at Tanros E-Book

Udo Meeßen

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 458

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Barndon Cummings, a successful management consultant from New York, becomes a victim of the touch of two universes. He is torn from his existence on Earth and appears in another universe on the planet Tanros, where people have been used to dealing with so-called world jumpers for thousands of years. On Tanros, after centuries of oppression by radical priests, people live the great permissiveness and love between partners is alien to the native Tanros. Brandon integrates himself into the peculiar society, lives a fulfilled life at the side of Ushe, whose ancestors came from Thailand and who is capable of feeling love. The 280-hour man becomes a well-balanced, content and successful financial broker, and during his stay on Tanros the society undergoes repeated significant changes in which he participates. He is happy there, enjoying the freedom of movement, but the universe has its own ideas about Brandon's existence.

Leseprobe

Brandon at Tanros

Imprint

Brandon at Tanros

by Udo Meeßen (me: sən)

+18 Fantasy

© 2022 Udo Meeßen

ISBN Softcover: 978-3-347-60522-0

ISBN Hardcover: 978-3-347-60523-7

ISBN E-Book: 978-3-347-60526-8

Druck und Distribution im Auftrag des Autors: tredition GmbH, Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg, Germany

Das Werk, einschließlich seiner Teile, ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Für die Inhalte ist der Autor verantwortlich. Jede Verwertung ist ohne seine Zustimmung unzulässig. Die Publikation und Verbreitung erfolgen im Auftrag des Autors, zu erreichen unter: tredition GmbH, Abteilung "Impressumservice", Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg, Deutschland.

Printing and distribution on behalf of the author:

tredition GmbH, Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg, Germany.

This work, including its parts, is protected by copyright. The author is responsible for the contents. Any exploitation is prohibited without his consent. Publication and distribution are carried out on behalf of the author, who can be contacted at: tredition GmbH, Department "Imprint Service", Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg, Germany.

Cover design: Udo Meeßen

Note: Various passages of this book are definitely not suitable for children, growing adolescents or oversensitive / orthodox, respectively puritanically, thinking persons.

Foreword

If we assume that there are countless universes, much more multiverses, then it inevitably raises the question of what space they occupy.

Do they all exist in the same place at the same time, or must we think of multiverses as soap bubbles in infinity?

If all exist at the same time at the same place, thus occupy the same space and that should be the normal state, then one may assume that touching and interdimensional phenomena can never occur.

Now, however, there are again and again reports about persons who are torn at short notice from their space-time structure, get to know strange versions of the earth and / or undertake alleged time travels.

With multiverses in the form of soap bubbles such phenomena could be explained to a certain degree reasonably. Based on the theory that at the contact of two universes a potential equalization, a short term energy exchange could occur and thereby arbitrary gates, transitions between the spheres concerned could arise, one could explain some things. Some things which are dismissed by the serious science with pleasure as spinning or pomposity.

Brandon Cummings, a well-paid, successful management consultant from early 21st century New York, if he were ever able to return to his world, would certainly have a lot to say and explain about it.

The question remains whether he can or could have.

Full throttle to death

October 24, 2042, 11:15 p.m.: Highway 9A, Highbridge elevation in upstate New York:

The nearly 3.5-ton black SUV, a Lexus 670, was rocketing northeast along the highway alongside the Hudson River at close to 240 mph. The driver was leaning in his seat, holding a thick, expensive cigar in his left hand and a half-full bottle of equally expensive whiskey in his right. Between his thighs was another open bottle of Sour Mash, and in the footwell on the passenger side were cans of beer and an open pack of cigarettes.

He had deactivated all automatic systems, such as lane departure warning, brake assist and distance warning. Actually, he should not have been able to switch on the cruise control above 180 km/h, but he knew his way around very well, levered out the software's protective mechanisms before he even started driving. Therefore, the heavy car drove 240 km/h with cruise control activated and stubbornly maintained the speed.

It was one of the last cars with an internal combustion engine and the tank was full, happily supplying the 8-cylinder big-block with 6 liters of displacement at 231HP and 710 Newton meters of power with sinfully expensive fuel. The driver didn't care about consumption, all he cared about was being fast to leave a clear mark in history, and that's what he was going to do.

At the height of W 181 Street, two Highway Patrol Corvettes got behind the car with their signal lights and sirens on and accelerated to get to it, but couldn't get behind it because their electric drives weren't making enough power and the systems locked up at 230 mph.

At the on-ramp coming from Park Drive, a civilian, black painted, patrol car, a heavy Buick, pulled in front of the vehicle to slow it down… No… The driver of the Buick took the on-ramp too fast and at too steep an angle across from the highway and shot across the roadway.

The driver of the Lexus ignored the obstacle, rammed the Buick at full speed on the left fender behind the rear axle and simply sped on. His car was armored because he was a rich man and there were people who would have liked to kidnap him and collect as much ransom as possible for his release. Therefore, the SUV hardly took any damage from the impact. The patrol car, however, was thrown off course by the jostling, turned over the front axle against the direction of travel and crashed with the passenger side against the central guardrail.

In the next instant, the car was thrown back onto the roadway by the enormous forces of the impact and came to a stop there perpendicular to the direction of travel, while all electrical systems abruptly failed. Somewhere the connection between the large battery in the floor of the Buick and its systems had been interrupted and absolutely nothing worked.

The passenger saw the headlights of the two Corvettes and their signal lights, tried desperately to get out of the car, but due to the impact with the guardrail, the sheet metal on the passenger side was crushed and the door could not be opened.

The drivers of the two Corvettes were in a hunting frenzy - finally a high-speed chase and really taking the hot car out - and in a speed frenzy. They didn't see how the Buick was shot down by the Lexus and came to a halt. They drove side by side at the same height, stood on the gas pedal and saw the broken down vehicle much too late.

Before they could recognize the danger and react, they rammed the heavy sedan at 230 km/h and within fractions of a second the three vehicles became completely mangled wrecks in which no one could survive.

At about the same time, just before the Henry Hudson Bridge, where the two separate lanes of the highway narrowed to a single lane, state troopers maneuvered two heavy, discarded pickup trucks across the roadway and laid nail chains on the asphalt about 50 yards in front of them. The sharp steel claws of the chains would shred the racer's tires, and should he still be able to drive on, there would be the two trucks, each weighing 5 tons, and they would stop him. That was the plan.

But it was not to come to that. Shortly before the roadblock, the highway described a long, flat curve.

The driver of the SUV had thought everything through, fixed the steering wheel using two tension belts, brought the car up to top speed and then activated the cruise control. As long as he was still clear enough in his head, he held the steering wheel and deliberately influenced the course, driving consistently on the center line of the two lanes.

At this point, when the Lexus entered the curve, the man was too drunk to recognize or understand anything and left the car to its own devices. The car drove stubbornly straight ahead and about four hundred meters before the roadblock in the apex of the curve through the left guardrail, then crashed almost unbraked into a thick tree and was literally shredded.

The man behind the steering wheel did not consciously witness how the engine block destroyed his legs, only coming to rest in front of the rear axle and his skull being crushed against the windshield made of bulletproof glass.

Mission successfully completed. Shitty life finished.

Brandons jump

July 19, 2013, 10:32 a.m., executive suite of Goldfuss & Zacks Inc, Wall Street, New York:

"That ma'am, ladies and gentlemen, is the future of Goldfuss and Zacks Inc. if you continue as you are, leaving the inefficient structures and bloated hierarchies, as well as your bureaucratic water head in place. Over the past thirteen months, we have made significant ground together at the grassroots level, among the rank and file, in logistics and in site strategy, and that's a good thing. But… unfortunately, that's not enough to get the company through the recession healthy and operating profitably. As you can see from the graph, the curve is still pointing steeply downward. Do you see that?"

Brandon Cummings pressed a button on the small transmitter to throw the next page of his presentation on the screen using the beamer, to show the board and majority owner Maraget Goldfuss where the company's real potential savings lay. He took a sip of water, set the glass down, raised his head to comment on the new slide when he froze in mid-motion.

"What the hell?"

The boardroom conference room was gone, and so was the board. Instead, Brandon saw green lawn, heard countless voices, the sounds of a large swimming pool, and saw…

Naked adult women and men, girls between about 13 and 17 with bare torsos and bikini bottoms, boys aged about two to seventeen in swimming trunks, and younger girls in bathing suits or bikinis.

A gentle breeze brushed through his hair and across his face and he smelled grass, odors of a snack bar and chlorine from the pools.

"What the heck is going on here? Am I crazy now?"

"Lifeguard, lifeguard!" a young woman shouted when she noticed Brandon, "here's a World-Jumper! Come over here, please!"

"A World-Jumper?" a man called out, eyeing Brandon and nodding, "Right. Lifeguard, over here. Here's a World-Jumper!"

A tall man, muscular and broad-shouldered, dressed in white bathing slippers, white shorts and a white T-shirt, with a whistle on a cord around his neck, hurried over and stood in front of Brandon, eyeing him with interest.

"That's right. You must be a World-Jumper. Let me guess… A minute ago you were somewhere else entirely. Right?"

"I… uh… where am I? Am I dreaming?" stammered Brandon, trying not to stare at the young bare-breasted and more mature fully naked women who were approaching with interest. All of them were well-fed, somewhere between slim and full-figured, and he saw no out-and-out hunger pains, nor any overweight women. The same applied to the men, because they were all apparently in top shape, muscular and none of them pushed a beer belly in front of him.

Especially the young girls, who wore only bikini panties and showed their youthfully taut, often still clearly in the process of becoming, bust unabashedly, were all pretty as a picture, graceful and perfectly formed in his eyes.

"I was just standing in the conference room of Goldfuss and Zacks Inc. in New York. Where am I?"

"A World-Jumper," the lifeguard statued, reaching for a smartphone in the back pocket of his shorts, "You are in the Collin City Recreational Pool on Tanros. I'll call the naturalization office. They will help you. Please wait."

The man dialed a contact on his smartphone, made a connection, succinctly stated only his position, and emphasized having a male World-Jumper, apparently from Earth.

"The Naturalization Service is sending someone, mister. Please come with me to my supervision room," he said, grabbing Brandon by the wrist, "Please don't be alarmed. You will not be harmed and you will be taken care of. You said New York? Is that on Earth?"

"Uh… Yeah, on Earth," Brandon replied, confused, and allowed himself to be led unresistingly by the man into a room with glass all around, in which countless monitors made visible what was happening in the pool.

"Have a seat, please," the lifeguard requested, pushing a chair toward Brandon, "it will take a few minutes. Can I offer you something to drink?"

"Coffee? Can I have a coffee, please? Maybe with a shot of scotch?"

"Coffee? Sure, mister. Scotch…I assume that's a spirit from Earth. You're not likely to find that here on Tanros, and you're not guaranteed to find any alcoholic beverages here in the Oversight Room. So coffee will have to do, mister."

"Good, coffee it is, mister."

-*-

"Laika Mushur from the Naturalization Service. Did you call us, Mr. Walch?"

"Yes, ma'am, please come. He's sitting here in the supervision room. The poor guy is totally fucked up with the world."

"Comprehensible, Mister Walch. Let me see," Brandon heard a melodic female voice and then a woman in a skin-tight jumpsuit, probably made of latex, which traced her perfect figure and clearly emphasized her femininity, stepped into his field of vision.

"Hello mister," the woman said, eyeing Brandon with interest, "tell me your name please?"

"I…my name is Brandon Cummings."

"Hello, Mr. Cummings. I'm Laika Mushur from the Naturalization Service and I'll be taking care of you. Please come with me, mister," the woman said kindly, pointing to two broad-shouldered men in elegant suits in her company, "My agents look more menacing than they are and mean you no harm. But if you cause trouble, these gentlemen can get nasty."

Brandon emptied the cup, set it down, and rose. As he stood, the two hunks took him in the middle and the woman turned her appetizing backside to him.

"Come on, please, Mr. Cummings. We'll take care of you."

The jumpsuit fit like a second skin, the material perfectly tracing her ass and the play of her buttocks as she walked in front of him, and Brandon reflected that she might as well have been naked. Against his confusion and fear, the sight of her buttocks stirred his libido and he hoped his broad-shouldered companions wouldn't notice.

The woman led him out of the pool to a parking lot and there to a white van with black, opaque windows, which somehow reminded Brandon of the FBI, the NSA or the CIA. But the brand logo on the vehicle's wheel hubs didn't belong to any brand he knew.

"Please get in the car, Mr. Cummings. And don't worry. You're in good hands. No one means you any harm."

He told himself that he probably had no other choice, because the bulges in the jackets of the two giants, which suggested weapons carried under the armpit in shoulder holsters, sent a clear signal. So he got into the font of the car, sat down, and the two men took seats opposite him.

"Relax," one of them said, opening a flap under the bench seat and taking from it a bottle of water, which he handed to Brandon, "You're not under arrest or anything like that. We don't carry the weapons to make you compliant, but to protect you. There are fundamentalists here who claim World-Jumpers are a danger to Tanros, and they won't back down from violence, mister."

"What's a World-Jumper?" asked Brandon, struggling to say anything at all, as the whole situation was vastly over his head.

"You come from another dimension, from another universe, mister. Laika will explain it all to you later."

"From another universe?"

"Yes," the giant replied curtly, then delved into a daily newspaper.

-*-

The comfortably appointed van drove for about ten minutes, and when the woman opened the sliding door again, Brandon recognized an underground parking deck. The two men greeted briefly, then left, and Laika led Brandon to an elevator.

"I'll explain what happened to you in a minute," she said in a soft voice as they entered the cabin, "and then someone will naturalize you here."

"Naturalize?"

"Yes. You are stranded here, Miste Cummings. Back to the world you came from… you'd better forget it," she explained, "You're bound to assimilate and that's why you're being naturalized."

Brandon was about to say something when the elevator stopped, the door opened and a young woman, in his estimation perhaps seventeen, at most eighteen years young, stepped in. She wore a white, in the skirt part wide swinging, almost transparent dress through whose fabric her femininity was more shown and emphasized, than hidden and flat, white pumps. The large, dark areolas and nipples of her youthfully crisp breasts shimmered clearly through the fabric and at a closer look it could be seen that she wore no panties under the dress.

"Hello Mrs. Mushur. A new World-Jumper?"

"Hi, Mrs. Shabrig. Yes, probably from Earth."

"Looks good," the young woman said, eyeing Brandon with interest, "very good, in fact."

"Is Mr. Cummings your type, Ms. Shabrig?"

"My type? No, I'm sure he isn't. I'm just saying he's good looking. You are my type, Mrs. Mushur," Shabrig replied, tapping the index finger of her right hand on a small enameled pin, which represented two, overlapping, pink hearts, on the left strap of her dress.

"Me? Since when?"

"Always have. Was I not clear enough?"

"Apparently not. I always thought you liked me, Ulhid. But that I'm your type…"

"Now you know, Laika. And as you can see, I'm fifteen now."

"I can see that, Ulhid. What do you say… let's have a bite to eat after hours?"

"Hmm… Are you solo? I don't want to be a troublemaker."

"Balik moved out three months ago. We didn't get along anymore and she got into others. So yes, I'm solo and not looking for an adventure. I want to have dinner with you and then see if something real can develop."

"You're honest. I like that. Then I'll meet you at the parking deck at 5:00?"

"If you'd like, I'd love to."

"Yes, I do," Ulhid replied with shining eyes, approaching Laika and giving her a tentative kiss on the mouth, "I'm glad, Laika."

The elevator stopped again and Laika turned to Brandon:

"This is where we need to get out, Mister Cummings. I look forward to spending the evening with you, Ulhid. See you later."

"See you later, Laika."

-*-

Laika led Brandon into a room that reminded him of a classroom, asked him to sit down and had a colleague serve him sandwiches and coffee. Then, with the support of a holographic representation, she explained that he had been the victim of a touch between two universes and had thus become stranded on her world.

"Do you understand? You are stranded on Tanros and will never see your home world, Earth, again. The universes are in constant motion and the likelihood of yours and ours touching again is a given, but then we don't know in what time and place you would arrive on Earth and whether it would really be your Earth, if you should then be in the focus of the portal again."

"You're convinced of this insanity?"

"Certainly, Mister Cummings. There are over ten thousand documented cases of World-Jumpers over the last five hundred years. And no one has ever left Tanros again."

"So you're making me a citizen of Tanros?"

"Of course. You are a human, so you are at least anatomically compatible and have intellect. There are World-Jumpers of other species who proved to be dangerous and we are getting rid of them very efficiently by now. But you are a human being and, according to our constitution, you deserve the chance of naturalization."

"This all sounds pretty crazy, and I hope there was an earthquake in New York and I'm in a coma, but… I'm curious. I just have one question."

"Uh-huh, ask Mr. Cummings."

"So your super tight jumpsuit, your new girlfriend in the elevator in that see-through dress, and your colleague in white lingerie and high heels serving me coffee and rolls… this is pure provocation… you say you're from the Naturalization Service… this must be a fever dream."

"I'm afraid it isn't. The colleague who will be taking care of you in a moment will explain everything to you. Also everything concerning our handling of sexuality. My job is to try to convey to you what has happened to you. The colleague will do the rest in a moment."

"I'm tense. Either I'm about to wake up and have a nurse get scared because I have a huge tube, or…"

"Do you have the hard-on because of me?"

"Uh… yeah… I'd like to… In dreams, anything is possible, right?"

"Almost. You'd better forget about it. See the pin on my collar? Two pink hearts… Not for men."

Strange rules of the game

"I'm beginning to understand. Your new friend, Ulhid, has a pin like that too. Two pink little hearts mean: I'm a lesbian."

"Exactly. I show what I have, you may look and dream, but only women may touch me. Learn to watch out for pins, earrings or bracelets. My colleague in the white lingerie, for example…"

"Has a blue heart and a pink heart embroidered on the waistband of her thong."

"Well observed. She's open to men. Not for you, though."

"Uh-huh, what makes you think that?"

"Well, if she were interested in you, she wouldn't have disappeared immediately after serving coffee and canapés, but would have played a bit with her charms. But she stayed cold, served and disappeared. You'll learn to interpret signals."

-*-

Laika deactivated the holoprojector, shook hands with Brandon and bid him a friendly farewell.

"I'll leave you alone now and hope you find your way in your new life. I know this is all confusing and hard to believe, but you are a World-Jumper and stranded here. You're going to have to live with that, or you're going to kill yourself. The colleague will come in a minute, handle the naturalization process, and straighten you out."

Then she left the room, leaving Brandon alone with himself, and he pinched his upper arm hard several times, hoping to wake up, maybe find himself in a hospital bed somewhere in New York. But nothing changed and slowly it dawned on him that the absurd story of interdimensional contacts might be the cruel reality.

After a few minutes, he heard the lock on the only door to the room being electronically unlocked, and a moment later, a woman whose sight left Brandon speechless entered the room.

She was in her early thirties, about 175 centimeters tall, full-figured with voluptuous, but not overflowing, curves with a slightly tanned complexion. Her, in his eyes beautiful, face with large blue eyes was framed by long blond curls. She wore light blue flat sandals, a floor-length, almost see-through dress of the same color and underneath only a set of white bra and skimpy panties, which barely covered her wide, well-padded pubic area.

"Hello Mister Cummings," she greeted pleasantly, placing a briefcase on the tabletop, "I'm Ashim Sancrod from the Naturalization Service and I'm doing the paperwork with you. How are you feeling?"

"According to the circumstances, Mrs. Sancrod. Now, please tell me I've had a heart attack and this is all just a crazy dream."

"Unfortunately, no, Mister Cummings. I'm afraid that's the reality."

"And…and this isn't the first time you've done this…this is normal for you?"

"Yes. I handle about six to seven naturalizations a year in my district. Statistically, there are about seventy every year worldwide. Apparently our universe is kind of like a central universe with a lot of touch points."

"O.K. So what happens now?"

"You are a human being, anatomically and genetically compatible and therefore have the right to be naturalized. The state will assist you in this process."

"You emphasize the word human like that. Are there other species?"

"Sure. Some are not anatomically or genetically compatible, but they are peaceful and intelligent. They are also naturalized. And then there appear again and again specimens of other species, which are not peaceable, but hostile. If Laika had recognized such a specimen in you, you would be dead already. She's a first contact agent and makes decisions at her own discretion."

Sancrod opened her suitcase and took out a device, which Brandon immediately identified as a laptop. She activated it and sat down across from him at the table. It did not escape him that she wore a small stud on her left earlobe, which represented a pink and a blue heart. And it did not escape him that her nipples were already erect under the fabric of the bra when she greeted him with a handshake.

"So… We now make you a citizen of our state. You will receive proper housing, proper papers, and from now on you will receive the basic income guaranteed by law for every citizen. In addition, you will receive start-up capital in the form of a long-term, interest-free loan to help you gain a foothold here on Tanros. Do you have any papers with you?"

"Uh…" Brandon reached into the right back pocket of his pants and unearthed his wallet, "what do you need?"

"Your identification card and, should you have one, your driver's license."

"My driver's license? Is it valid here on Tanros?"

"In principle, yes. It has been shown that the technologies of Earth and Tanros are very similar and the driving license and vehicle classes are almost identical. So if you have a driver's license, I'll issue you the Tanros pedant to go with it and you can drive all the corresponding vehicles."

"I see," Brandon said, taking ID card as well as driver's license and sliding them across the table, "go ahead."

She took the two cards, typed eagerly on the keyboard of her laptop for a moment, and then took a small digital camera.

"Please stand up for a moment and stand over there in front of the white wall. I need a passport photo for your documents."

Brandon obeyed, rose from the chair and stood in front of the white screen. Sancrod circled the table, examining him from head to toe before she aimed the camera at his face and pulled the trigger several times to snap an ideal passport photo. It didn't escape her that he had a noticeable bulge in his pants and her thoughts flipped over for a moment. Slowly a fine film of sweat formed on her forehead and Brandon thought he could see that her skimpy panties were stretching more clearly over her pubic area because of swelling.

"Thank you… please sit down again," she said with a scratch in her voice and took her seat again herself. Then she connected the camera and the laptop with a cable, apparently selecting the ideal image for the documents to be created. Finally, she nodded with satisfaction and connected the laptop to another device from her suitcase, which Brandon thought he recognized as a small printer.

"Are you that hot too?" she asked, rising again and coming around the table, stepping close, "do you like me?"

"Yes, certainly I like you. You're a lovely woman."

She lifted the hem of her dress, grabbed the waistband of her panties and unceremoniously pulled them off, took another step towards him and stood over his lap with her legs spread.

"Go on, get it out."

"Out?"

"Yes, your cock. You're horny too, aren't you?"

As if in a trance, not believing what was happening, he opened his fly and freed his penis, which had been stiff all along, from its confinement. Somewhere deep in a corner of his mind he realized that regardless of the surreal situation, his best piece was already stiff since his appearance in the pool and the sight of the attractive women while the horniness boiled subliminally inside him.

Yes, he would have been only too happy to lay a pipe with Laika as well as with Ulhid or the woman in the white lingerie.

"Splendid," Sancrod said with a rasp in her voice, "you have a splendid cock."

Slowly she lowered her abdomen over his, grabbed his penis and maneuvered it into her crotch, coming down further and taking his best piece into her vagina with a pleasurable sigh. It was wet, literally swimming, and heat enveloped his flesh as she slowly impaled herself with it. Pleasuring herself, eyes closed, moaning softly, she began to ride him, orgasming twice in quick succession and then a third time as she felt him come too, his penis pumping his sperm into her vagina.

When they caught their breath, she got off him, put her panties back on, and went to her seat on the other side of the table, her eyes shining. There she took a pack of tissues from her case and stuffed one of the tissues into her panties because his cum was oozing out of her vagina.

"I needed that now, Brandon," she said, pressing a button in the tabletop, which she pressed for the first time before joining him around the table.

"I felt it, Ashim. You were horny to the core."

"And you too, right?"

"Yeah, me too."

"Then it was right and good. And with that, you've already learned the first lesson."

"That a fuck is always in between?"

"Exactly. The women on Tanros show what they have and it's always about sex. Fast, satisfying and noncommittal sex."

"Hm," Brandon thought, while he put his penis back in his pants, "I already got the heart thing. Only… how do I know if the woman is interested in me, too? I mean, I guess everyone here is walking around provocatively."

"When in doubt, just ask. Either she agrees or she doesn't. The exception is women who wear a red and yellow striped garter or bracelet. They are always willing and it just depends on the price."

"You mean they prostitute themselves?"

"Exactly. There are enough men who are less attractive and can't get any under normal circumstances. They do it with the hookers. By the way, they have to get a checkup once a week to do it for money and they're all registered as whores."

"O.k. pink hearts, blue hearts… two blue means gay?"

"Exactly. And a little heart in rainbow colors means bisexual. It's simple, isn't it?"

"I see. And… so I arrived at the swimming pool, yes. The adults were all naked. What's the deal with the girls and young women without tops?"

"They are on their way from child to woman. So in their puberty and they show that with the bare breasts. The panties signal: I'm not yet fifteen years old and I'm off limits to adults."

"Fifteen? Isn't that a little young? They looked older."

"Some smart person once calculated that a Tanros year lasts pretty much exactly 14 Earth months."

"I see, so I have to add another thirty months to the fifteen years. Accordingly, the girls are then seventeen and a half years old."

"Correct."

"And they're off limits to adults. But not for others of the same age?"

"Exactly. Sexuality awakens with puberty. For girls it's around the age of ten, and for boys it's a little later. It's just like you humans. And it is certain that it is important to have the first sexual experiences at this age. So the young women signal with the naked breasts that they feel ready for such experiences. But they do that only on the beach or in the swimming pool. Otherwise, they are demurely covered in public. They are not allowed to dress and show themselves provocatively until they have reached the age of fifteen. And otherwise it is like people on earth. Most of them gain their first experiences of the same sex with their best friend during so-called doctor games."

"All right. Only… if here basically everyone from fifteen, respectively human women from seventeen, fucks crisscross… what about steady relationships?"

"You rarely find it here."

"Uh-huh? And… I mean, you're procreating, too. What about the kids?"

"They grow up in the care of their mothers and are entitled to their basic income from the moment they are born."

"And the fathers?"

"If the father and mother place a value on it, the children grow up with pairs of parents."

"But the parents continue to crisscross?"

"Well spotted, Brandon. Love, as you humans define it, is a rather rarely felt emotion here on Tanros, except for mother and sibling love."

"So Laika and Ulhid are all about sex too? Ulhid said she didn't want to disrupt a relationship, so she held back to a certain extent with Laika."

"The two are now apparently entering into a relationship. Maybe they'll move in together, be a couple for an indefinite period of time, and stop poaching. Maybe they'll stay together for life, maybe it's temporary. If Ulhid was holding back, it's because she thought Laika had a steady girlfriend and she didn't want to get in the way of that."

"So at least some respect exists there for any committed relationships?"

"That's right."

"And that just now, the one with you and me. That was just sex, noncommittal sex, because we were both horny for each other."

"Right on again, Brandon. I'm not interested in a relationship with you. I wanted to fuck, you wanted to fuck and the chemistry is right. If you run into me again and we're both in the mood, we'll do it again and then go our separate ways again."

"O.K. I was just wondering if you were very tight."

"You mean how tight my rear entrance is? Do you want to fuck me in the ass?"

"You have a gorgeous ass and I like doing it that way."

"Sorry. You've got a bad hand with me."

"Too bad."

"Dumb luck. But now let's talk about more important things. Your data is recorded and processed. The printer here will spit out three cards for you. Your ID card, your driver's license and your credit card. And that brings us to the money. You will receive 2,000 Fargur basic salary. This is what every citizen gets from the moment of birth. On top of that, you'll get the loan of 5,000 Fargur that I mentioned before, to clothe yourself and buy some initial equipment."

"Initial equipment?"

"Yes, clothes, laptop, possibly a cheap car and whatever you need."

"And what is a Fargur worth?"

"Hm… so a complete ensemble… shoes, pants, dress shirt and jacket off the rack costs about 130 Fargur. You might get a good used car, which passes the technical inspection and can be registered, for as little as 1,500 to 2,000 Fargur."

"Hm… You said I would get a place to stay. What about furniture and necessary accessories like dishes or cutlery?"

"The accommodation is an apartment. So kitchen, hall, bathroom, living room and bedroom. They are furnished to standard and you don't have to sleep on the floor. A certain basic equipment of daily necessities is included. If that is not enough for you, you have to purchase what you want."

"Then I guess I'll be fine. What about work? I mean, I get the basic salary, but that doesn't contribute to the community, does it?"

"We'll get to that now. What have you learned, what can you do, and how did you earn your money on earth?"

"I studied business administration, got my bachelor's degree in finance and was a successful management consultant. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Sure. You're a money-pCare Agent. You juggle other people's money."

"That's one way to put it."

"Good. I'll make a note of it in your file like this. The Central Employment Agency will look at the data and try to place you with a company. Important: You must visit all the companies offered to you in order to apply. If you do not do this, or if you do not show up on time for the regular appointments at the agency, you may be subject to reprisals. In this case, interest may be charged on the loan and the term may be shortened. In other words, the installments will be larger and due earlier. In extreme cases, the total amount is demanded immediately and then it really hurts your wallet."

"In that respect, you do it no differently here than people do on Earth. That's amazing."

"It isn't. Our society was significantly shaped by people from Earth. Read up on our history when you get a chance."

The little printer beeped and Ashim turned the device so Brandon could reach it, then pressed some kind of pen into his hand.

"Please sign with the pen there on the display of the printer. Your signature will then be transferred to your cards."

Brandon signed, then, when prompted, pressed his right thumb on the display to scan the thumbprint as well and deposit it in the cards. Then the device began to work diligently and after a few minutes spit out three plastic cards in check-card format.

"Your driver's license. You may drive any motor vehicle up to a total weight of 5 tons on the road. The rules are very similar to yours. We drive on the left, it is left before right and the signs are self-explanatory. A training software is stored on your PC in your apartment. As soon as you have completed it, your driver's license becomes valid.

The next thing is your identity card. This serves to identify you and as a key. The front door and the apartment door are unlocked and locked with the ID card. The car, by the way, with the driver's license. In addition, all public buildings are equipped with card readers on the doors. If they accept your ID, you can get in."

"Uh… does that apply to stores or restaurants?"

"No. That only applies to government agencies and so forth."

"All right."

"Your address is imprinted on your driver's license and ID card and stored electronically. If you are somewhere in the city and want to go home, you get into a cab, swipe one of the two cards through the reader and the driver knows where to go. If you're taking public transportation, each ticket machine uses this information to tell you exactly when you need to use which lines and prints out the appropriate ticket for you. And that brings us to payment. You will not find any cash here on Tanros. You pay for everything with your bank card or online from your PC. You will need a PIN, which will be given to you by my colleague. This colleague will also take you to your apartment, instruct you there and explain how to use your banking app on your PC."

"So far I have understood everything, Ashim. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Brandon. I'm done here with this, too. You could do me one more favor, though."

"Your nipples are hard again. Is that what you mean?"

"Is your cock hard again too? I would like you to take me really hard from behind."

"In the butt?"

"No. I already told you that. You can imagine, it would be my butt."

"So really hard from behind? You have a wonderful butt. It inspires me. Let me see it."

Ashim pressed the button on the tabletop again, gathered the hem of her dress up over her waist and went beside the table on all fours, stretching her ass towards Brandon. He did as she asked, didn't flinch long, pulled her panties down to her knees and staked her to the hilt with sweeping, massive thrusts. Again she had several violent orgasms before he climbed onto the launching pad himself and spasmed as he unloaded into her vagina.

She then stuffed another tissue into her panties, adjusted her dress and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"You fuck fucking well, Brandon. You can come by here anytime and leave me a filling," she said happily and pressed the button again.

"This button… it locks the door?"

"Exactly. The door is locked and there's a red light outside."

"So everyone knows we're doing it together."

"No. Not necessarily. This is a multipurpose room. Meetings, seminars and training courses, or even interrogations of criminal World-Jumpers take place here. So there are always plenty of reasons to lock the door."

The Care Agent

Ashim packed her equipment back into the suitcase, said goodbye to Brandon with a wet kiss, and he was left alone in the room again. For a moment he considered unceremoniously throwing the now useless cards from Earth into the wastebasket. Then he decided to keep them as mementos and put the three new cards in his wallet in addition. In this wallet there were also a thousand dollars in various bills and they would now probably also only be of souvenir value.

Maybe, he thought, he would frame Social Security card, driver's license and the credit cards, as well as the dollar bills, and hang them in his apartment.

'Then I always remember where I came from. This world doesn't seem much different from Earth, except for the way we deal with sexuality. I think I can manage here. But I'll never forget where I came from, and I miss Big Apple already.'

The woman in the white lingerie reappeared, put a thermos of fresh coffee and another plate of sandwiches in front of him.

"So you don't starve, Mister Cummings," she said kindly, but didn't look directly at him and only grinned when she saw that his pants were damp around his fly from Ashim's secretion and his cum.

"Thank you," he said, smiling kindly, "you are very kind."

"I'm glad I can help you, "she replied, took the empty plate as well as the empty thermos and left again without putting herself in any kind of scene, apart from her lingerie. Apparently he wasn't really her type and she signaled that very clearly by her hypothermic manner.

"You will learn to interpret signals."

Yes, he began to learn and interpret signals.

Shortly after, a young woman, about twenty years old, about 165 centimeters tall, slender and delicate, filigree and fragile-looking, with medium-length blond hair, pretty brown eyes, a cute snub nose and cheeky freckles entered the room.

She wore an opaque white blouse, underneath apparently a bra - certainly obsolete for her small breasts - flat black pumps, white nylons and a tight-fitting miniskirt that reached just below her lap. Her outfit had nothing provocative as he had seen it so far with the other women and yet she brought in her almost already conventional, by the skimpy skirt frivolously spiced up, appearance abruptly his blood to boil.

"Hello Mister Cummings. I'm Ilkesh Uhrah, your Care Agent," she introduced herself with a smile and shook his hand, "I'll take you to your apartment, instruct you on how to use your PC and banking app, and show you a bit of the world you'll be living in from now on. Are you ready?"

"Hello Mrs. Uhrah. Whether I'm ready or not, I don't know. But I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Well. You could also try to take your own life. You wouldn't be the first World-Jumper to do that."

"Oh… really? No, I'm hanging on for dear life."

"Did you leave someone behind on Earth? I mean, someone who is now worried and afraid for you?"

"Hmm, no. My parents are dead, I have no siblings, and I've never been one for committed relationships."

"So just… hookers?"

"How?" he asked confused, understood and laughed heartily, "No. No hookers. If, then very expensive luxury whores, that is, rich women with influence, who went to bed with me to gain business advantages. But I never paid for them."

"The rich man's game, then," she noted, smiling happily at him, "have you pocketed your documents?"

"I have, Mrs. Uhrah. As far as I'm concerned, we can go."

"Then please, Mr. Cummings. Your new life awaits you," she said, and led him out of the room into a corridor. There she led him to an elevator and took him to the building's basement, there to the employee parking lot and to a fancy city runabout painted light blue, similar to a late-model Nissan Micra on Earth.

Once at the vehicle, she held her ID card flat against the right side window and the car unlocked the doors.

"What do you think, would you like to try it?"

"You mean you want me to drive the car?"

"Yes. You do have your driver's license, and it's not very different from Earth."

"Uh-huh? How so?"

"The first motor vehicle here on Tanros was a Volkswagen Kübelwagen of the German Army, which appeared in the central marketplace here in Collin City some 120 years ago. At that time, our nation was on the threshold of industrialization and the vehicle was quickly identified by engineers as an automobile."

"Interesting… It's a right-hand drive, though, isn't it?"

"Yes. We were already driving horse-drawn vehicles - that is, carts pulled by animals similar to earthly horses - on the left side of the road, and a right-hand drive is more practical. Do you have problems with a right-hand drive?"

"No… Back home in New York, that's where my car is. It's right-hand drive, too."

"Then I'm in good spirits."

"But… Ashim said I had to take the online training first to activate my driver's license."

"She's certainly right about that. But I am a government-appointed instructor for World-Jumpers. I can give hands-on instruction at my own discretion. Sort of like a driving instructor."

"You are how old? Twenty? Respect."

"Thank you. I have been studying diligently and trying hard."

Contrary to his estimation, Brandon had enough space behind the steering wheel and was not cramped in the small car. Ilkesh explained to him the function of the two pedals and the gearshift, which were in fact identical to the corresponding earthly components in an automatic car. After a short theoretical briefing, he was able to drive the car and maneuvered it safely through the parking deck, up the ramp and onto the street.

"Very good, Mister Cummings," Ilkesh praised, "have you ever driven on the left?"

"Yes. In Tokyo. I'm not unfamiliar with that."

"Fine. Turn left up ahead. I've entered your address into the car's sat nav. You should know how a sat nav works… shouldn't you?"

"Sure I do. I'm just thinking about what would happen if I crashed your car."

"Don't worry about that. I certainly don't use my private car for a briefing. The car here belongs to the naturalization authority and is an official car. By the way, it's bulletproof because of the fundamentalists."

"Who are against us World-Jumpers?"

"Exactly. And above all against the naturalization authority and the state. But don't worry… the car has civilian license plates, and yes, it looks like a typical girl's car."

"True… Whereas… can't you tell I'm a World-Jumper?"

"Not really. We Tanros and humans are very similar. We also have some ethnicities, which hardly differ from earthly ones. The only thing that could be problematic is your clothing. This cloth flap, for example. It stands out here."

"Cloth rag? Oh… you mean my tie?"

"Yes. Is that supposed to reflect the size of your penis? Is this some kind of phallic symbol?"

"Yikes, no. On Earth, in business circles, a man is not considered properly dressed unless he wears a tie."

"I see. Here on Tanros, at the beginning of the last century, it was fashionable for men to try to give the impression that they had a big penis by wearing rags like that. But that soon died down when guys understood that size wasn't all that mattered and women were just amused by that fashion."

"So the tie has to go," Brandon concluded, grabbing his collar and undoing the knot of his tie, "what else?"

"These gray trousers with creases… look at the passers-by. The pants are colorful and have no creases."

"Even in the business world? Are the pants there also colorful?"

"If you show up in gray or black cloth pants with a crease, everyone immediately assumes you're from the government, maybe the Secret Service or the Naturalization Service, and that leads to suspicion. Honestly… If I were you, I'd order some sensible clothes online before I left the apartment again."

"Hmm… Or we could stop up ahead and I'll go into that store there for a minute. That looks like a textile store."

"Good idea, Mister Cummings. You can stop there no problem. I'll wait in the car."

It wasn't ten minutes before Brandon got back into the car. The gray pants, white shirt and tie were gone. Instead, he wore colorful trousers without a crease, a matching, very casual jacket, very similar to a jacket but much more comfortable, and a light blue shirt with ruffles.

"That better, Mrs. Uhrah?"

"Very much better, Mister Cummings. The salesman gave you good advice."

"I get it. He has a stud earring with two blue hearts and would have loved to follow me into the locker room."

"And I see you treated yourself to a fancy bracelet right away. A blue and a pink heart."

"Sure… I mean, you said through the grapevine that I should blend in. That's when I notice, by the way… you don't have any such accessory on you. How could I tell how you're oriented?"

"Maybe by watching carefully?" amused Ilkesh obviously while Brandon smoothly threaded the car back into moving traffic.

"What do you mean now? Am I missing something?"

"Apparently so," Ilkesh said, clearly amused, stretching in the passenger seat so that the hem of her short skirt allowed a glimpse of her lap for a moment, giving Brandon time enough to realize she wasn't wearing panties.

"Hmm… you're not wearing any panties. I was hoping to see some embroidery or something there, but there's just your… pretty pussy. I'm going to have to pass, Mrs. Uhrah."

"And that brings us to another lesson, Mister Cummings. Women like me, that is, women without any indicator, are indecisive and untouched."

"You are indecisive and untouched? You do not know how you are sexually oriented and have not had sexual contact? How so? You must be in your early twenties, aren't you?"

"To be exact, I'm twenty-one. I grew up in a strict orphanage run by nuns and belonging to a convent, got more beatings than food, and escaped to the state police academy when I was fourteen. I've never had a best friend, never had a best boyfriend, and thanks to my stupid, deeply religious, puritanical upbringing, never had sex in my life."

Brandon did some quick math: '21 times 2 is 42. 42 divided by 12 is 3.5. So by Earth time, she's 24.5 years old. But she still looks much younger.'

"Is that why your… demure appearance? Do others… that is, their appearance not appeal to you? I mean… doesn't anything stir in you?"

"Sometimes something stirs there. For example, when I see Jurget, who brought you the coffee, I feel warm. But she doesn't see me, looks through me."

"I see. And your pretty pussy has never been touched?"

"Never. And… and I just don't dare show a little more of myself. I'm ugly, after all."

Brandon abruptly slammed on the brakes and brought the car to a stop, looking at Uhrah in complete bewilderment.

"You're what? Ugly? Holy crap, Uhrah, you're beautiful and sexy. What idiot made you think you were ugly?"

"The nuns at the home. Do you really think I'm pretty?"

"Pretty? You are beautiful, Uhrah. You are a beautiful woman and you don't have to hide. Maybe Jurget just doesn't see you because you hide and don't show what you have? Show Jurget that cute little butt of yours. Show her more of yourself. You're undecided? I don't think so, because you say you get warm when you see Jurget. That's what you said, right?"

"Yes."

"Then approach Jurget and tell her how you feel. Whereas… Jurget signals that she is heterosexual. You don't stand much of a chance. But there are other women who spark like you, and you'll probably like them too. Sweetheart, just get out there. Aren't there any scene bars around here?"

"Scene pubs?"

"I mean pubs or bars in which only lesbians, gays, heterosexuals, or what not, meet. So pubs where, in your case, primarily women get together."

"You… you mean I… I'm a lesbian?"

"You'd like to check out Jurget's panties? Be honest with yourself."

"That… Yeah, Jurget is so beautiful."

"You're one hell of a beautiful lesbian. Sad for me, but heaven for some beautiful woman, I'm sure, sweetie."

"I'm a lesbian?"

"What do you dream about? Of a penis, or of a pussy?"

"Of… of a beautiful pussy and small, firm breasts."

"You are a lesbian, girl. Go to a trendy bar and show other women what you have. Show your cute butt."

"I have a cute butt?"

"Yes, damn. You're beautiful, Mrs. Uhrah, and you have a gorgeous butt. Too bad you're a lesbian."

Ilkesh pulled the hem of her skirt up over her lap, slipped off her flat pumps and put her feet up on the dashboard of the car. Then she let her knees fall apart, grabbed her vulva and pulled the pads apart, revealing the clitoral hood.

"And that's nice too, you think?"

"Heavens, Uhrah… Please sit back down nicely."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a man and you're a smoking hot chick. The sight doesn't leave me cold."

"Would you like to touch my pussy?"

"No."

"You don't? Why not?"

"Because you said very clearly that you were a lesbian."

"Very nice," Ilkesh said, sitting back down properly and covering her pussy again, "keep that respect and you'll never have any problems. The last World-Jumper I was in charge of saw my pussy and was about to jump me. Three months ago they put him on trial for raping several young women."

"Wait… this guy raped here, on a world full of women who aren't stingy with their charms?"

"Yes. He raped six young women, none older than sixteen."

"That's sick. And…that just…that was a test? You wanted to test if I could control myself?"

"Think of it as part of the briefing. I need to provide my superiors with a prognosis regarding your social skills, and the direct approach, the provocation, I think is a good tool for that."

"So the whole story about being untouched and indecisive was just theater?"

"The part about my childhood and youth is true. I really did grow up in a convent of fanatical Puritans and have received more beatings than food throughout my life. Regarding my sexual orientation, I really wasn't sure until just now and I thank you for that because now I know. The truth is that I am untouched and you have done valiantly."

"But you didn't really feel ugly."

"Exactly. You countered, said I was beautiful, and when I spread my legs provocatively, you remained calm, asked me to sit down again dutifully. So I can deliver a positive prognosis."

"You're pretty sneaky. Do you know that, Uhrah? A very beautiful, refined woman you are."

"Thank you, Mr. Cummings. And you're a fine fellow. Turn right up ahead and into the parking lot, please."

Brandon obeyed, drove the car into the parking lot and brought it to a stop. The building he saw in front of the vehicle's bow gave him the impression of a posh apartment building, like the one he would have expected on Miami Beach.

"This is it? Looks classy, Mrs. Uhrah."

"This is it. Your new home. Your apartment is on the seventh floor, ninety square meters and furnished to standard. Would you like to see the apartment?"

"Ninety square meters for a single man? That's pretty damn generous, isn't it?"

"Standard… By law, you are entitled to 90 square meters. Please reach under the driver's seat. There's a drawer and in it are panties. Hand me one of those, please."

Brandon followed the request, pulled open the drawer under the seat and took out from it a light blue silk panty, which he handed to Ilkesh.

"I guess that makes you the most fully dressed woman in the world?"

"That too, Mister Cummings. But above all, it makes me a properly dressed agent of the Naturalization Service on duty. Not only human World-Jumpers live in this house, but also other species and some of them have no respect for women if they are not dressed modestly and do not carry a weapon," Ilkesh replied, putting on her panties, opening the glove compartment and taking out a holster with a large-caliber pistol, which she hooked into the waistband of her skirt on the right side.

"You say non-human… what could another species possibly want from a human woman?"