Transdimensional Earbuds Ch. 02

The author, here. I am thrilled that you people enjoyed the first chapter. I'll be writing summaries for the newcomers who join in to enjoy the tags.

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In the previous chapter: Peter, a young man, has unexpectedly received a pair of pink earbuds. They were tucked in with his copy of the Dungeons and Wenches, an acclaimed VR game. He has used them to play in the bog-standard fantasy setting, in which he embodied a sexy female protagonist, Lacie.

Due to mysterious circumstances, he has switched from normally interacting with the game to being thrown physically into the fictional world. He has inherited the body of the opposite sex and lived in the tutorial village for some time. There he slew local monster fauna for the locals, slowly growing accustomed to his new physique. His acclimation efforts were so successful that, in the end, he ended up climaxing to slumber after peeking on his housemate having sex.

And this is the point at which the second chapter starts.

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Chapter 2; Two worlds. Single Momma.

The lake was teal splash on the dreamy landscape that depicted a cirque of steep limestone mountains and a lush green valley. Peter stood nervous at the edge of a white cliff jutted out above the sun-warmed water, looking down at the height. The jump wasn't lethal or even particularly difficult but nonetheless required a commitment that the man lacked at this very moment. The legs, measuring the rocky edge, treated it as a start of a tightrope.

Behind the uncertain man, a young woman cleared her throat. When he pivoted to face her, he came to see her as if for the first time: a beautiful young woman with silky black hair dressed in a red-spotted bikini. The choice of the clothing did wonders to display her wondrous cleavage and hourglass figure.

"Hesitating much? I thought a man would do everything to impress a girl." She smiled mischievously, satisfied with her teasing. Her arms moved independently in one smooth motion, one hand sensing the side of Peter's neck, the other pinching her collarbone.

"How am I going to jump if you don't show me how it's done? If I wait any longer, I may collapse from the heat. I would love you to rescue me, but I'd prefer to get to know each other at the bottom of the cliff. After a nice wet soak."

The sultry voice that was whispered and licked with her luscious lips steeled the boy's resolve and turned him towards the open air. A loud splash bounced in an echo against the entire lush valley. Peter climbed out of the water panting from adrenaline, a reward for bravery in accomplishing the personal feat. He looked up to see the girl still there, posing at him.

When he noticed her, she crouched deliberately to expose her behind and pull her panties slightly down. It was too far to spot any peeking treasures in the motion, yet the man's blood rushed to his loins as if it were his teeth that slipped the cloth.

The woman grinned radiantly as she dove, turning in the air, before splitting the surface with a terse plop. The red bikini bottom had remained at the rippling mark, left behind by its owner. A minute passed before the water was disturbed again, now at two neighbouring points.

From those points, a pair of twins emerged, clones of the woman that went in. They both had the same red-spotted bikini covering their busts, but neither bothered to hide their exposed privates with the abandoned floating undergarment. Shoulder to shoulder, the figures climbed out of the water and strolled to their prey in wanting smiles. All four arms joined together to push Peter prone onto the grey rock. The man prostrated on his back was helpless to prevent the removal of his swim shorts. All that remained was for him to wait as two of them straddled him, one at his mouth, the second receiving his cock.

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The low heel cruelly jabbed at Peter's ribs to tear him away from his erotic dream. The groaning victim clutching his side gave a blaming look at the woman who was behind the blow. She was dressed in a French maid outfit and had fair skin, brown hair, and a large bottom half that compensated for her lacking chest. She wielded an expression that told not only that she was guilty but also utterly remorseless.

"What's your fucking problem?" Peter hissed through the teeth. The huffs and puffs took their time before ending, letting him check his surroundings. He was no longer in his room but instead in an awfully strange 6-bed hospital ward. The surfaces were coloured white, as expected. It was furniture and their cloudy, translucent material, which was unusual, along with a distinct lack of metal, even painted, in the room. The potted, cultivated plants didn't assist enough to break the foreign, alien even, design.

The woman was gone before Peter had gotten over his astonishment. He had nothing of his own possession, just a simple lavender hospital gown. His buttocks dented the bed's verge, lingering in place as the uncooperative muscles rebelled against their rightful owner. It wasn't a simple weariness, because the level of his stiffness could be only achieved by getting stuck in a confining closet for an entire day. Entire millennia of technological advancement if judged by the surroundings. The abducted man wished to bolt before he had the chance of meeting the patrons of his unusual trip but was not given the opportunity since a new arrival had made an entrance.

The feminine figure stood in the doorframe with arms akimbo; smart office eyeglasses focused on Peter. Her mature tanned complexion complemented her impression as a part of tropical flora, which had, at the crest, ponytail dreadlocks dyed in light pink, twisted with lime green. A white tank top and washy-red cropped pants together embellished the rest of the fit frame. At a glance, her casual aesthetic didn't indicate what her posture did: she was a figure of authority, a confident boss whose grey eyes stormed with a purposeful determination.

"Welcome back to this world, Peter Steward. Your tardy arrival missed about 250 years of human progress."

The young man's mouth gaped at the news. No matter how queer the surroundings appeared, for him, it was less than twenty days since he last walked in the modern world. Those days indeed, in some ways, stretched in boredom, but their apparent length couldn't match the unmortal span of 2.5 centuries.

"I am sure that, in time, you will catch up to all the TV series' seasons that had flown past you. For now, let me welcome you to Eagle's True, the secret research facility. I am Clarice Tratche, the commanding officer responsible for the site's military jurisdiction. I was also trusted with ensuring flawless execution of the experiments conducted here, many of which will be vital for America's bright future."

The woman was standing right beside him now, presenting her arm for a handshake. He took it but didn't match her hard grip since he was still spooked by the whole ordeal.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but... Give me time to process all of this. What happened? How could I have ended up here?" said Peter.

"Well, that is exactly the question we want to investigate in our lab. You didn't happen to receive a pair of pink earbuds?" After a confirming nod, she continued.

"The gizmo was capable of interdimensional travel, which took you to an alternate reality. We discovered you in your derelict apartment in Great Britain island a couple years back. Only that your body, save for the earbuds, was semitransparent, immobilized in a stasis, invulnerable to any physical contact. The exotic state thawed extremely slowly. You fully materialized just yesterday, after a full decade and some. We then moved you here and waited for you to wake up."

"Alternate reality? Stasis? I don't understand any of that blasted mumbo jumbo. I am just a simple bloke, I swear. I don't know who you take me for, ma'am. I hadn't had the faintest idea what the earplugs did."

"As we expected you to not. The device you received was also sent to another 99 randomly sampled people, who all unknowingly participated in a mass experiment undertaken by an extraterrestrial presence we came to call 'offsectorians'."

"Extraterr-. Do you mean aliens invaded the Earth? We must have won the war if we can talk like this." Peter said incredulously. His stomach growled out of nowhere.

"Our chat might have to be brief for now. We most certainly don't want you fainting. You might even do some fighting for us yet, soldier." she frivolously said in a tone that demanded a salute. Thankfully, she did not expect a one. She continued.

"There wasn't anything to win since they did not invade in mass, much less wage war against the humanity. More aptly put, offsectorians infiltrated our society and did their science in quiet. We almost hadn't noticed them prior to their return back to their homeworlds. They left us with some scraps of info here and there, but most importantly, they abandoned precious tech and objects, like you and your earplugs."

"I don't fancy myself owning them, so you can go ahead and claim them. I would do with some tea in exchange." Peter managed to stand up. He wanted to escape the ludicrous and unsettling conversation. The woman sat on the chair in front of him, legs crossed. She observed his rise, fully expecting him to collapse. She was still and relaxed the whole time, but when the man had his feet firmly on the glossy floor, she nodded.

"We will need your assistance with them later. For now, let me take you to your room, where you'll find a shower and a chance to get you out of that gown. Kristie! You heard me. Lead him there and ask the kitchen to make him a meal. And if you repeat the politeness you expressed, you'll find yourself working tied in hemp and with that pretty red mouth of yours stuffed with even the prettier and redder gag."

The sleeper-kicking maid exploded from the door, rushing to fulfil her orders. She bowed in panic so deeply that her knee-length skirt nicely fit over her shapely bottom. Peter followed her through long rectangle corridors, not unlike those found in typical municipal offices. Yet the future flaunted itself, as the walls were made of the weird opaque material. They were see-through about 4 inches in, and their depth was utilized to create three-dimensional decorations of vibrant colours, which were formed with pigmented shaped clouds.

They depicted dynamic scenes like a phoenix in flight crashing against boiling sea, barely catching a mackerel with its beak. Or they would simply present tranquil atmospheres like a quiet bamboo forest with a yellow umbrella stuck against a mossy stone lantern. The two people didn't traverse simple office halls but a massive piece of art. When asked, Kristie explained that all the walls were grown by genetically modified plants. An artificial intelligence designed and coded the patterns that then nature would print, with just a stamp of approval by the human overseers. Peter lagged behind transfixed on the "printings", as that was the term they used to describe them. The walk took longer than the maid's hurried pace aggressively tried to suggest.

His room wasn't so dazzling. If one would ignore the prevalence of the new materials, one could compare it to a simple, smart hotel bedroom. Peter immediately went to wash in the bathroom, as he garnered quite a stink.

The shower had a brutalist form, clearly meant to convey its quality to last the decades. When Peter took the time to ponder, all the furnishings and appliances he had met this far shared the same style. Some just had edges softened to avoid crushing the inhabitants with a menacing aura.

After leaving the bathroom, he donned the pile of clothes left for him on a cupboard. They consisted of a sleeveless tracksuit, top and shorts stripped in alternating rows of light and dark coffee-coloured bands. The outfits non-military personal wore here weren't professional at all, or, at the very least, governmental regulations and dress codes shifted dramatically after all those years. The last thought was stuck in his mind as he threw himself on a queen-size bed.

There was a note, apparently slipped stealthily during his time in the shower. It was signed off by the chief, Clarice and told him to await further instructions. They wanted him to participate in a trial this evening, which would confirm his capability to use the alien earbuds. Peter wished he had nothing to do with any of this. Stubbornly, he decided not to leave the room in a vague protest. There was no intent behind the decision, just a simple desire for his life to return to normal. He was too lost to grasp the likely consequences of his actions.

"What am I doing here?" He said out loud, watching the e-ink display incrementing the last digits out of the string "2278::04::23 | 14:12". The representation of how far in the future he was, hit him like a truck. He skipped the age he was born in and jumped unto the following one. None of his friends and family had a right to be alive by now. Not even his nephew that was just born a month ago. Or, according to the clock, 257 years ago.

The maid bringing Peter's food found him hugging his knees, eyes red and sniffling quietly. She was a mature black woman in her early forties, and the moment she saw him, she immediately approached. She left the tray on a dresser and sat on the side of the bed, near him.

"Oh, sweetie. Those folks had told me what had happened. Them cold-hearted wolves couldn't even imagine someone having a hard time after losing sight of their loved ones. They thought you would be ready for evening tests and experiments, like one of those machines they keep at the lab.

I told them to leave you out of any bull for a day. That and to stick their rifles up their butts if they grow bored during the 'delay'". She sounded earnest as she said the last words. Peter looked up at her and saw a motherly smile beaming at him. There was no reaction on his part.

"Would you like for Momma Willisa to stay here a little longer to keep you company? I know how to listen to somebody just wanting to talk." Peter bobbed to accept her request.

The room was silent for a time, but then little by little, the man reminisced aloud about his past life. It was a disjointed talk, full of ifs and buts, doubts from the past, anecdotes about his hometown and funny stories starring his friends. The mood shifted from sad, to laughter, to gloomy again.

The time flew past in an unrememberable blur, a bright dream that vanished after waking up but left a warm fuzzy feeling that stayed with one for the rest of the day. As you might know, some days are better remembered than others, yet not all of those can be recollected with detail. Peter could be sure of only one thing: he did fall asleep in the evening and woke up the following day.

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Peter wasn't in the highest spirits when he rested on a lab's stool. The last day's worries still dispassionately clung to his back. However, he was plainly informed by the two scientists that he had no choice but enter to the tests. They were more subtle and friendly, of course, although they ensured that the underlying message was understood. The pair of messengers were actually with him in the room, sitting at the computers but obstructed by the chaotic mass fabricated from two dozen people rushing hither and thither.

It was a large open space room that resembled real-life labs that Peter had seen at the uni. Tabletops run rows through the room, cleaned thoroughly at places where necessary, while the rest was forsaken to an everchanging tumbling mess of documents and sheets.

The computer displays were at the sitting height but were disembodied, driven through poles that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Familiar QWERTY keyboards were present, but a gelatinous wedge was placed beside it instead of a mouse. Technicians sunk their hands in them and manipulated the digital cursors through gestures made with submerged fingers. Peter could stare forever at people operating the strange devices with their nimbly fluid motions. He would if he didn't have to answer questions about his visit to the fantasy world.

"How old approximately was Lacie?" one scientist asked. Peter answered, "Early twenties."

"How far did you travel out of the village?" the other said. "Half a day away, at most. I've never travelled to the nearby settlements."

"Have you seen anybody performing any magic?" "No. Nobody was capable of any magic. They said that when somebody is seriously ill, they travel to the temple, 3 days away. There, a cleric would heal them by casting holy miracles."

"So you were aroused by a man. Are you homosexual by chance?" Peter cringed at the blunt question. "No, I am not. It must have happened because I was in Lacie's body."

"So you don't remember waking up after the climax? Offsectorians were conducting experiments, buddy. At the very least, they should have conducted a full and thorough raw probing of your little anus." a tall bearded man commented. There were multiple people seated nonchalantly in front of Peter, taking their turns to ask him questions.

The last scientist had a particular way of bringing back the talk to his anal fetish. Either societal norms had changed, or the incidence of sexual harassment hadn't improved over the course of the last 250 years. After about ten such remarks, it was more annoying than uncomfortable. His colleagues seemed not to care, blatantly filtering the rubbish spewing out of his mouth, even speaking over him, as soon the syllable "an" was uttered.

"No, Sir. You did tell me that you carried out a series of tests on my comatose body. All of them confirmed that I was, in fact, not tested upon by aliens in any capacity. This, as you said, included the involuntary verification of my anus' tightness and interior." The other scientists nodded and agreed, saying, "Yeah, there is no point in asking" or "We have done all we could". Nothing that even brushed against the sympathy for Peter.

At that point, the aloof interrogation was pointless. The intellectuals decided to carry out a trial to check if Peter could go back to the fantasy world. That was the ultimate point of him being here, instead of being left on the streets, like an out-of-fashion relic unearthed from a deceased hoarder's apartment. He has made the trip once, and therefore, he had a better chance of succeeding than anyone else. The hypothesis was imagined from a sample size of 1. Peter had acquiesced primarily out of fear of the unknown new world that loomed beyond the facility's boundaries.

"Sick fucks," Peter thought. "In my days, people were kind to each other and certainly didn't operate on patients against their will. Those punks nowadays are unfeeling and too involved in their anal perversions to care about the plight of the little man. They could, at minimum, have enough dignity to notice the sarcasm." he tried to make light of the situation.

The avalanche of scatter-fire queries extended well past the point of draining out Peter's attention. His answers became monotone and robotic. The only fire in him converged at his eyes, which surveyed the navigational gobs at the desks. How did those things work, anyway?

They led him to the neighbouring lab for the big trial after the man's anus had enough contact with the stool. The new room had a proper white-bleached sci-fi look about it. Long lines of massive server racks run through it, broken only by alleys and grey terminals. In the middle of the room, in a circular area sunk two steps down, stood a single cloudy chair. Peter plopped down and sighed as he reclined the seat. He straightened his torso with a jerk at the sight of pink earbuds.

"Those are safe, right? You just said something about previous casualties." he asked.

"We are certain that nothing will harm you," Clarice said, standing at his side. "That's the point. Previous test subjects using the pinkbuds were incapacitated from the use. You were pretty fine after your experience, and our analysis correlated the device's signature to your neural oscillation. It's tuned to you, one way or another."