The Newbie’s Mistake

The moment people finally realized that parallel universes were not just fiction was truly grand. The news spread across the world in a matter of days. Some viewed it with caution, while others were filled with excitement and admiration.

One of those who admired it was Greg Swenson—back then, just a schoolboy who dreamed of visiting parallel worlds himself. It seemed like something magical and fantastical at the time. But ten years later, it had become a reality, and Greg, now a 22-year-old young man, met all the requirements—age, health, professional training. He was incredibly proud and happy when he found himself among the candidates. This was his chance—his childhood dream.

— New guy? — a mocking voice came from someone in the group.

Greg nodded uncertainly. The others didn’t seem to share his excitement. For them, this wasn’t their first time—it was just routine, nothing special. One guy, tall and with a grim expression, yawned lazily.

— Why are you shaking? It’s just a transfer. Nothing special.

— Did you think that way your first time too? — Greg shot back with a smile, trying to mask his nervousness with a bit of sarcasm.

— No, but at least I didn’t stare at the launch panel like it was a fucking Christmas miracle.

Everyone laughed, but not maliciously. It was just the way experienced people looked at a newbie who still had no idea what was coming.

A signal sounded.

— Swenson! You’re up.

Greg took a deep breath, glanced at the others one last time, and stepped into the transfer chamber.

…

When he opened his eyes, Greg realized his posture had changed. He had entered the chamber on his own two feet, but now he could feel his knees pressing against something hard while his hands rested on something soft yet cool to the touch. And he could feel something moving in and out of him… from behind? No, it wasn’t his ass—it was something else.

His body responded to the motion with a strange, unfamiliar wave of pleasure, pulsing with a heated tremor from within. He blinked, feeling long strands of hair tickling his bare shoulders. Something heavy swayed on his chest with each thrust, making him feel foreign in his own body.

‘What… what’s happening?’ the thought barely formed in his mind, but even thinking was difficult.

His breathing was unsteady, lips slightly parted. His legs were spread, hips wide, and between them—wetness, heat, the sensation of being filled… and for some reason, it didn’t send him into panic. On the contrary, something inside him responded to it, craved it, pulled it deeper.

Greg wanted to scream, but instead, a soft, delicate moan slipped from his lips.

— Ah…

A stranger’s voice. High, sweet, feminine.

He froze, feeling strong hands grip his waist, pulling him closer. Hot breath brushed against his neck.

— Good girl, — a deep voice, clearly not in English, murmured behind him, making Greg shudder at the words.

His gaze snapped downward—to his own body. A silky golden kimono with burgundy patterns was draped over him, slipping off his shoulders. But that wasn’t the most shocking part. Slim wrists, delicate fingers, long dark hair cascading down his back, and high, firm breasts, bouncing slightly with each movement.

He wasn’t just in a woman’s body. He was in someone else’s body. And that body was…

Greg clenched his lips shut, but he couldn’t ignore how strangely good each thrust felt. How his hips instinctively started to move, matching the rhythm. How the heat spread through him, filling him down to his fingertips.

‘What the fuck? Why am I…?’

He should have panicked. He should have fought back, screamed, stopped this.

But his body didn’t want to stop. It yielded, accepted, melted under the stranger’s touch as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Greg squeezed his eyes shut, but that only made the sensations sharper. A new, previously unknown whirlwind of feelings overwhelmed him. His body trembled, his hips reflexively moved to meet the motion, his breath hitched, breaking into soft, almost pleading moans. All of it felt foreign, yet at the same time disturbingly natural.

And then—a sudden flash in his mind.

"Return activation. Confirm command."

Greg barely grasped the meaning of the words, as if they had surfaced from deep within his subconscious. Return? Right now? No fucking way… he couldn’t. His body was burning, pulsing with sweet tension, teetering on the edge of release, and the mere thought of stopping everything now sent a wave of defiance through him. He had to finish!

Almost instinctively, he whispered to himself:

"Cancel."

The command vanished. Blurred, dissolved in his mind as if it had never existed.

And a second later, his entire body arched in a violent spasm.

The sensation was so intense it felt like he had been ripped out of his own body for a moment, before a searing wave crashed over him, drowning him completely. Greg couldn’t think, couldn’t control anything—only feel. Feel his body trembling, feel the high, strangled moan slipping from his lips, feel the warmth spreading inside him as the tension slowly faded away.

He collapsed onto the soft sheets, numb, feeling nothing but the lingering echoes of orgasm and the pulsing sensation between his legs. His breathing was heavy, his heart pounding as if it was about to burst out of his chest.

Then, suddenly, his eyes shot open.

"What… what did I just do?!"

A horrifying realization hit him—he had canceled the return command! He knew damn well that canceling a return was only done in extreme cases, when a person understood this was their final path, fully accepting that they would never go back! Panic surged through him as he tried to summon it again, to repeat the command, to force the system to take him back… but nothing happened.

Only the slow, steady breathing of the man behind him. Heavy footsteps against the wooden floor.

— You did well, Aiko, — a deep voice spoke in a strange language, something Asian, though Greg somehow understood it perfectly. — They say there's demand for you tonight. Four more clients, right?

"Aiko?… Demand?! Clients?!"

Greg’s head snapped toward the man—broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, dressed in an expensive kimono—watching as he stood, tightened his belt, and made his way toward the door. He didn’t even look at her… at him. At Greg. He just left, abandoning him in this body.

Swallowing hard, Greg pushed himself up on shaking arms, trying to gather himself. Everything around him was strange—the decor of the room, the scent of incense in the air, the silk curtains, the dark wooden floor. On a table by the wall sat ceramic tea bowls, while candles flickered softly in the corner.

Greg looked around before slowly lowering his gaze to himself.

Large, high breasts, shifting slightly with every movement. A slim waist. Hips wider than he was used to. Long strands of dark hair slipping over his shoulders. And beneath him—a bed, rumpled silk sheets, soaked with the scent of someone else’s body.

He slowly ran his hands over his skin, feeling its softness, its smoothness… its strangeness.

"No. No-no-no…"

Greg squeezed his eyes shut, willing this to be a dream. Nonsense. An illusion. Something he could break free from. But everything was too vivid—his trembling legs, the wetness between his thighs, a lingering, unpleasant reminder of what had just happened, the cool silk of the robe against his skin.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

— Alright… alright, stay calm, — he whispered, only to hear just how foreign, how high and melodic his voice had become. How strange the words sounded in another language.

Panic started rising in his chest. Where was he? What year was it? What was this place?

And most importantly—how the fuck was he supposed to get back?