Chapter 1

Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, Time Travel, Historical, Humor, Superhero, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Violent, .

Desc: Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This is the story of exhibition shooter Abe Hofmann and his adventures after he was killed in an accident. He goes time traveling to the 1880s Old West and he has the job of killing as many bad guys as he can find. See what automatic weapons can do in a gunfight! Abe and his friends have fun with his toys, like the portable shower with no pipes. There's a little something for everybody: gunfights, sex, scifi, time travel, you name it.

How did I get here, and just exactly where is here? I'm walking down a dusty western street at high noon. All of the cliches are in full bloom. I'm headed for a duel with John Wesley Hardin, who never lost a shootout. I'm wearing the classic "cowboy" clothes of the 1880s, including the high-heeled boots, and the broad-brimmed Stetson hat. I don't have any idea why I am here, but I have a compulsion to draw on Hardin and to try to win, even though I know that this never really happened.

At least I have my familiar gun and holster rig. I have my .50 caliber double action pistols with the swing-out cylinder. Each pistol has a grip safety, so I can load six rounds into each gun. I'm wearing my cross-draw holster rig with a gun carried just forward of my hip and high up on my side, almost, but not quite, a shoulder holster. This is the same rig I used in my shooting exhibitions, and I never lost a contest with it. The question nagging at me right now is whether or not it is good enough to beat John Wesley Hardin. Well, I'll know in less than five minutes, if I can believe my feelings.

Even crazier than anything else, I am using smokeless powder even before it was invented, but Hardin is using black powder. How much of an advantage does that give me? I have no idea.

Is everybody ready and are all the cameras lined up? This should be good, and we don't want to miss anything. OK, start the cameras rolling.

I stopped where I had to stop; it was almost like an X was marked for me to stand on. Hardin walked up to his X and said, "All right, ya yeller livered varmint, I told ya ta stop pesterin' me. Now I aim ta make shore ya stop. Ya kin go ahead an' draw first."

I had no choice, I couldn't say anything. I just started to draw my gun with my right hand. I am fast, but I had no idea how fast until that moment. Hardin was reputed to be one of the fastest draws who ever lived, but it looked to me like he was drawing in slow motion. I easily had my gun out and pointed toward him before he had even cleared the holster with his gun. Then I froze!

Hardin kept moving, but my muscles simply would not move. I was stuck in position, ready to fire, and I could not pull the trigger. I saw Hardin draw the hammer back on his gun and aim it at my belly. I saw Hardin pull the trigger, and I saw the blast of smoke and fire come from his gun. Then everything went black.

That was perfect, folks. We got just the result we were looking for. OK, that's a wrap for today. I'll see you for our next shoot tomorrow morning.

I woke up in my hotel room bathed in sweat. My first action was to rub my body looking for the bullet wound that I knew had to be there, but wasn't. Shit, what a nightmare! I'd had this same kind of nightmare for a week, the only difference had been that I had faced a different Old West killer each night. Every time, I had easily outdrawn my opponent, but I had not been able to shoot. This was the seventh time I had stared certain death in the face and awakened in my bed the next morning. Shit! One more dream like this, and I was going to see a shrink!

My name is Abner Hofmann, but most of my friends call me Abe. I'm 32 years old and I have been an exhibition shooter for as long as I can remember. I started out as part of my dad's show, shooting a .22 rifle that was bigger than I was. I'm an expert shot with pistol, rifle, or shotgun. I've been practically every place in the world where there would be an audience for a shooting exhibition, and I make a good living at it. My only regret is that I have never had a family. I don't know why, but no girl or woman has ever appealed to me, and, NO, I am not gay. That's just the way things have happened. Occasionally, I'll have the bell hop send a woman around to relieve the pressure, but, mostly, I just keep it to myself.

I have an exhibition scheduled for this afternoon. I always shoot in the daytime because my shows are too noisy for an indoor arena, and it is too hard for people to see what I am doing without plenty of light. I now work mostly on Saturdays and Sundays, but I will work other days for special occasions, like state fairs, and that sort of thing. Anyway, I am not overworked, and I spend a lot of time in museums and art galleries.

Today, I have a show scheduled for 3:00 PM at the LA County fair, one of the biggest such exhibitions in the world. It's not as big as it once was, but it is plenty big enough for my tastes. I was ready to leave for the fair ground at 10:00 AM, plenty of time to get to the site and have a light lunch before the show. I got into the limousine provided for me right on schedule. Naturally, there was a lot of traffic on the freeway, so I was not surprised when we found ourselves trapped by a bunch of trucks. However, they were all moving fast enough that we weren't being slowed down, so I told the driver not to worry about it.

We were tooling along at about 50 MPH when it happened. We were right next to a truck hauling gasoline when the truck on the other side of him blew a tire. His trailer whipped around, clipped the gas truck and pushed him into our limo. I'm not quite sure what happened after that, but I do remember a big flash of flame just before I blanked out.

Where am I? I hope this is not another one of those damned dueling nightmares. No, it's a different kind of nightmare. I'm in a hospital bed, totally naked and practically without skin! Except that I am also standing beside the bed, perfectly OK, and wearing my normal tee-shirt and slacks that I wear when I am not working. What the hell is going on, now?

Then I notice standing beside me, a perfectly normal looking man, except that he is translucent. I look a little more closely at the me standing beside the bed, and I see that I am translucent, too. Holy shit! The man standing next to me says, "You're in pretty sad shape, Mr. Hofmann. Will you allow us to help you?"

I say, "Sure. I will always accept any help that I can get."

"Ah, an excellent and sensible attitude. Let us adjourn to my office where we can talk more comfortably." The next moment, we are sitting at a small table in two very comfortable chairs. Oh, and we are no longer translucent.

My host says, "That's much better. Let me introduce myself, Mr. Hofmann. I am Lars Orlinski. You may call me Lars. If you should decide to join us, I will be your liaison man with the Organization." I could hear that capital O.

"May I call you Abe?" I nodded, so Lars continued, "As you have seen, you were in a horrible accident that will have killed you by 2:00 AM tomorrow morning, so that is how long you have to decide on accepting our proposition. If you agree to join us, your life will be saved; otherwise you will die. Well, actually, you are going to die anyway, the difference is that with us you will continue to feel like you are alive. Your body will be what you see yourself wearing right now. I should point out that you can still die if you join us, it just won't be within a few hours from now."

I was completely floored by his statements. Strangely, I did not doubt him, it was just the totality of his remarks that had me stunned. "I can see that you need a little while to digest what I have said so far. Let's eat that light lunch you missed and resume this conversation in about an hour."

Lars pressed a button on a console beside his chair, and sandwiches and coffee appeared near at hand. We ate, and it was delicious. Once we had eaten, Lars returned to the previous conversation. "I know you want to know what we want from you that would make it worthwhile for us to preserve your life. Basically, we are looking for a special kind of assassin, and we think that you fill that bill." He held up his hand before I could interrupt.

"Don't misunderstand me. You would not be the hired killer so often seen in the movies and on TV. Our Organization (there was that capital O, again) is engaged in trying to eliminate most of the problems faced by the people of Earth. To do that, we are engaged in some large scale experiments involving millions of people. In essence, we want to know how the world would react if there were no Joseph Stalin, Adolph Hitler, or Mao. We have access to great computers, but we do not yet have the capability of simulating what millions or billions of people would do in specific situations, so we have to run actual experiments with real people.

"Undoubtedly, since you are an educated and sophisticated man, you know of quantum physics, string theory, and parallel universes. To make a very long and very boring story short, we have the capability of jumping to a parallel universe and doing something there, like killing Mao, to see what would happen to the Earth in that event.

"Don't worry that you would be making changes in this universe, because all of the universes are entirely separate and independent. Furthermore, new universes are being created all of the time. As an example, no matter which way you decide on our offer, an new universe will be created the moment you decide which will have the opposite choice in effect. It just happens that you will not be aware of that duplication of the universe. If you decide to join us, you will not be aware of that other universe which is instantly created in which you will die on or before 2:00 AM. On the other hand, if you decide against joining us, you will not know of your activities as our assassin. Instead you will only know of your death when it happens. So, Abe, do you follow me so far?"

"Yes, I see that it makes no difference to anybody but me which way I choose. You will get my services in some new universe no matter which way I jump. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Abe, you have it exactly right. By the way, once you make the choice, there is no way that you can change it. Do you want to give me your answer now, or do you want to think about it some? Remember, there is a time limit."

"No, I am used to making snap decisions. It looks to me like I would be stupid to turn you down, since I would still be working for you, anyway, in some other universe. OK, I accept your offer!"

"Excellent, Abe! We'll start your processing immediately. Please come with me." I was led through a maze of offices and cubicles where I was tested and measured and photographed until my head began to swim. Lars finally said, "OK, Abe, that's it for today. Let me get you something to eat and find you a place to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day!"

Tomorrow is going to be a busy day? Just what the hell was today?

There I was, in a quiet alcove of the Kremlin. I had my special gun ready to pop off Stalin as soon as he appeared. I had been told to wait here until Stalin showed up. He was due by in a few minutes, but he was known to make last minute changes in his itinerary just to screw up assassins. Hopefully, this was not one of those times.

Ah, here he comes. My job should be complete and I can return home in just a couple of minutes. What the shit! Here come four security guards and they are headed right toward me. It's as if they know I am here. Only one thing to do, I'll jump out when Stalin gets close enough and shoot. Hopefully, I'll be accurate enough to do my job.

Now! What's going on. I'm aiming right at Stalin, but I can't pull the damned trigger! Well, that's it. All four security guards have pulled their guns and are about to shoot me.

OK, we got it. As good as usual, people. Your were right on your marks. I'm proud of you, as always.

God damn those dreams. I had hoped that I was finished with them. I have a feeling that I better not mention them to Lars right now. No telling what I might screw up if they think I'm crazy.

Just then, there was a knock on my door and the sound of Lars' voice, "OK, Abe. Time to get up. You have time to shower if you wish. Don't bother to shave. Your clothes are in the closet. I'll be back for you in half an hour."

I got up and showered. That air blast to dry me off was kind of fun. I think that I would like to have that every time ... Here are my clothes, pretty much the same as yesterday, except that the shirt is a different color.

I was dressed and already getting bored when Lars showed up. "Come on, Abe. Lots to do today. We'll get you some breakfast, then we'll take you through the medical modifications."

Medical modifications? Nobody mentioned them. What did I get myself into with these guys?

The medical modifications turned out to be the sort of thing I liked to see. No more colds! No more flu! Etc. Etc. Etc. I was in hog heaven. I used to be especially susceptible to colds, so I was glad to dodge that. A tiny lung cancer was cured. My ears were repaired from all of the loud gunshots I had been subjected to. The list went on and on, and I got happier and happier. Hell, where have these guys been all my life? Speaking of all my life, they told me that I would never die of old age. I would gradually grow younger in my body and freeze at about the physical age of 22. If and when I died, it would be the result of an external action. I was functionally immortal!

Except for meal time, I went from medical station to medical station the whole day. I was pinched and probed and I don't know what all until I was on the edge of exhaustion. Shit! I can't remember the last time I worked this hard.

During supper, Lars started an interesting conversation. "Abe, have you ever wondered how much truth there was in the Gothic stories of demons and human possession?"

"Actually, I never wondered about it from that point of view, though I did like to read that kind of story when I was a kid. Why do you ask?"

"I know that it will be hard to believe, but our scientists have come to the conclusion that there is a lot of truth in the old stories. Specifically, they believe that some individual or force is bringing demons to the Earth and having them run wild tormenting and destroying humans. They don't know why, yet, but they are convinced that the situation is real. They now think that the Hitlers and Stalins of the world are generated that way.

"The problem is that they need a larger sampling to work with than can be found with the major dictators and tyrants. That's where you come in. The Organization (there's that capital O, again) would like for you to switch focus and, actually, to concentrate on an area where your talents would be most useful. Specifically, the Old West of the USA around 1870 to 1890. The consensus among the scientists is that most, if not all, of the outlaws of the time and place were demons. One of the things they want to test is whether the demons take over an existing human or simply create a human semblance when they come to Earth. The smart money is on the "take over" path, but a few strongly argue for the "creation" route. This could go a long way toward determining how we ultimately fight them.

"Your job would be to go back to that era, in a different universe, of course, and kill off as many of the outlaws as you can. We'll work out the details over the next few days if you agree to take the job. Bear in mind that you would be going after people who have murdered innocents right and left, so you would be doing good, no matter what the ultimate outcome might be."

"Well, I can't see that I have a real choice here. I have to do what your Organization upper echelon tells me to do. On the other hand, I've always had a yearning to be a bounty hunter, so the Old West thing looks good to me."

"Excellent, excellent! We'll start working on the details tomorrow. I hope you have a good sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow morning bright and early."

Cast in this chapter:

Abner (Abe) Hofmann—hero, narrator

Lars Orlinski—Abe's liaison with the Organization

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