Pendleton University: Male Dormitory
Monday, 8:30 AM
Damn. That feels good.
My cock was getting the V.I.P. treatment, and the sensation was becoming far too vivid to be a dream. The pleasure peaked, dragging me toward that climax until I finally grunted, bucking as I hit the limit. My breath faltered, my sight swimming in the afterglow.
"So thick and warm… good, you're awake!"
My eyes flung open. I was careful about security; I religiously locked the front door whenever I entered or left the apartment. Hearing a voice inside my room was like a shock of high-voltage electricity.
I scrambled back, shoulder blades hitting the headboard as my heart beat hard upon my ribs. My eyes glanced at the covers, where a suspicious bulge was moving beneath the fabric. I lunged forward and ripped the sheets away.
Crouched there was a youthful, raven-haired beauty in full goth regalia. She looked like she'd walked straight out of that Blair Witch sequel from the early 2000s. I stared, spellbound by her creepy yet alluring eyes and the way her black hair flowed over her bare chest. The classic makeup gave her a witchy vibe that was, honestly, way more appealing than it had any right to be.
As she ran a hand along my thigh, doubt clouded my mind. The room felt off, familiar yet wrong—like my surroundings had been copied and jumbled. Unreal, I blinked, half expecting to wake up from this bizarre 'Inception' like moment.
Then, a trace of memory snapped into focus: her face, the heavy eyeliner, the predatory way she looked at me. The realization crawled in, chilling and surreal—she looked exactly like the girl from that movie. Was I being hexed? Was witchcraft even a thing in 2026, or might I just have been targeted by a stalker? Wait, that last part doesn't sound so bad, given the circumstances.
The moment she clenched her grasp on my shaft, any remaining fog in my addled brain vanished. The sharp, physical reality proved this wasn't a dream, and this only meant I wasn't in my apartment.
"Got your attention?" The goth girl smirked. "I snuck in when your roommate left. You were sleeping, so I gave you a wake-up call. Ready for the next part?"
Just as things with the goth girl reached a tipping point, an abrupt noise cut through the haze—the front door slammed open, followed by a violent thud as it shut.
The goth girl rolled her eyes, expression changing to exasperation. "Oh, yay. Your roommate's back."
Only strengthening the thought that this was not my place, I might be a 35-year-old corporate slave, but I have enough income and self-respect not to stoop so low as to share an apartment with someone I barely know.
On cue, my roommate began his rant. "Dude! Bro, we talked about this! This is not cool! She can't be here!" He rounded the corner, face red. "You know I'm on the Dean's watchlist. He hates my guts—he'll use anything as an excuse to kick me off campus!"
"Hey, Princess, stop being paranoid." The girl already pulled her lace-trimmed top back on. "You're not the one I'm sleeping with. This meltdown is totally uncalled for."
A vein throbbed in my roommate's forehead. He looked like a young Jared Leto—the pre-Joker version, before that massive flop.
Attempting to salvage what was left of the pleasant morning—and frankly relieved to escape the awkward tension before things got weirder—I rolled out of bed. I wasn't sure if what came next would be a blessing or a curse, and I wasn't about to stick around to find out. I gave the girl a quick hug, leaning in close.
"I think we should continue this later, babe," I said, kissing her forehead. I leaned on the word "babe" like a crutch, using it as a tactical smokescreen for the fact that I still had absolutely no idea what her name was.
"Sure. Come by my place tonight, I'll DM on the chat site later. This prissy, wannabe-Pulitzer winner just killed the mood anyway." She gave me a final peck on the lips, grabbed her jacket, and marched out, slamming the door behind her.
My roommate—whose name I honestly couldn't remember—stared at the door. "Dude, seriously, how can you stand that chick?"
I lightly chuckled. "Well, it helps if you put things in her mouth…"
"Whatever. It's your STD," he muttered. "Here. Your coach gave this to me on my way back. It's your new training schedule. He told me to make sure you actually read it."
He chucked a paper onto my desk. "I'm heading to the hall for breakfast. Get your shit together and join me before our Urban Legends lecture starts."
Left alone, the morning's chaos still buzzing in my head, hoping to get a semblance of normality, I turned toward my dresser to grab a towel. As I moved, a blinking icon suddenly flared at the border of my vision, signaling that my day was about to take another strange turn.
I tried to blink it away, but the blue geometric shape was locked onto my sight, persistently tracking with every eye movement—like an afterimage from a camera flash. Reaching for it, my hand slipped through empty air, but my fingertips tingled as if brushing against something both real and imagined.
[ SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE ] > [ USER: OCTAVIUS BLAKE ] > [ STATUS: IDLE ] > [ LOCATION: EARTH – BLENDED WORLD ] The text didn't just appear; it echoed inside my brain, vibrating with a weight that caused my knees to go weak, cementing the surreal reality of what was happening. A translucent Heads-Up Display unfurled across my vision like a virtual blueprint. It looked familiar; I couldn't place where I'd seen it before.
"What the hell…" I uttered softly.
I focused on the center of the display, and a sub-menu appeared.
[ TRANSPORTATION MODULE: READY ] > [ DESTINATION: HUB DIMENSION – PERSONAL LOBBY ] > [ WARNING: DUAL-STATE ACTIVE. The words hovered in my vision, impossible to ignore, bearing weight and energy that suggested they were more than a simple screen—they felt like a command.
My heart throbbed. The prompt was a dead ringer for that old show Chaotic. A 'Dual-State.' Did that mean I could be in two places at once—one version of me attending an Urban Legends lecture while 'another me' travels to another dimension?
I peered at the door. My roommate was probably waiting in the dining hall. I had a lecture in twenty minutes. But with the [TRANSPORT] button glowing in my vision, the lecture suddenly seemed a lot less important than whatever was lying beyond that transportation command.
I sat back down on the edge of the bed, composing myself. I focused my intent on the command.
Click.
Everything around me twirled at once—a surge of cold air washed through me, not from the room but as though my mind itself was thrown open to an icy current. The familiar edges of the dorm blurred, then pixelated, flowing into cascading blue streams. My senses seemed to drift, leaving my body behind and carrying me across what seemed like a virtual abyss. The ordinary dorm hum was replaced by a steady, mechanical rhythm of beeps and bops sounding in emptiness.
The white space was blinding at first. As my vision adjusted, the "Personal Lobby" materialized. I realized I wasn't in Pendleton anymore. Suddenly, a secondary screen popped up in the corner of my vision—a "Picture-in-Picture" feed of the dorm hallway. I saw "myself" walking out of the room, backpack draped over one shoulder, on my way to breakfast.
This was fascinating, but I was more interested in the dimension I was in right now. I moved toward the circular counter in the middle of the room. As soon as I reached it, a floating screen popped out of nowhere.
"Welcome to the Hub Space, Dear Patron."
"What the hell is this place?" I barked, spinning around the sterile white void. "And how did I get here?"
"The Hub Space is located on the floating City of Arcadia, tucked between dimensions. This space acts as a bridge to myriad worlds and their echoes. In your private hub, you can browse and apply for missions to extend your 'subscription' to your current main world. Note: without a main world to anchor yourself to, your soul will be cast into the void, and you will cease to exist."
"Huh?! What do you mean by 'subscription'? And when did I agree to any of this?"
"Dear Patron, when you suffered a tragic end in your previous world, you were offered a second chance. You immediately agreed to the transmigration contract. You were provided a starting point and background story to integrate with the new world—with conditions, of course. Oh my... it seems you haven't synchronized with your starter packet. Were you not instructed to do so the moment you gained consciousness?"
"Huh, I was kind of preoccupied at the time and might have forgotten about that part," I uttered.
"How do I synchronize that information packet you mentioned?"
"Dear Patron, simply close your eyes and think, 'synchronize starter packet.' Note: You may experience slight disorientation."
I did what the bot, AI? Or whatever it was told me to do, and after a dizzying amount of information, I have finally grasped all the crap I needed to know and understood what has transpired up until now.
"So, how do I extend this 'subscription' exactly?"
"By completing missions, dear patron. A basic completion rewards you with 1,000 points and 10 days toward your subscription. However, additional rewards may be granted based on performance. You may also purchase 1 day for 50 points."
"Okay, sounds simple enough. How do I pick and apply for missions?"
"Dear Patron, within your personal space, missions are chosen at random. You may use points to re-roll a mission; the cost depends on the mission type and the World Echo it inhabits."
"Huh?! So, points are the standard currency for everything here… but wait, what's an 'Echo'?"
"Dear Patron, an Echo is an event in time and space captured by the Hub. It depicts a moment of struggle against an individual, a species, a natural phenomenon, or even Fate itself. You may enter these Echoes to complete missions and experience them for yourself."
"Wait… aren't Echoes just movies then?"
"Essentially, yes, Dear Patron—but I assure you these are not viewed for mere pleasure."
"Warning: Your subscription is about to expire. A mission has been automatically selected for you. Please stand by; in 30 seconds, you will be transported to the Echo and superimposed onto an individual within it. Your mission: Escape and Survive. Best of luck."
"Wait, what the—!"
A beam of light devoured me completely. I felt the shimmering pull of teleportation—cool just like in Star Trek—before my consciousness stretched thin, dragging me toward the Echo. I entered a transitional, half-awake state as I was hurled toward my first mission.