"I can do anything I want?"

"Within limits," the counselor said. "We offer access to two possible universes, the public, and the private. The difference is that other people, people like you, share the public universe. If you do anything to one of them without their consent, you will be in violation of the terms of your contract."

"How do I tell the denizens, I think that's what you called them, from people like me?"

"Visitors, which is what we call people like you, will have a golden nimbus surrounding them."

"What about the private universe?"

"Anything goes there," the counselor said. She opened a file and displayed it on the screen behind her desk. "As you can see from this, we can customize the private universe in any way you wish."

"And the denizens... ?"

"Will act as if everything is normal," she said.

"It looks like it costs a lot more."

"Customization requires a great deal of programming. That's reflected in the costs."

He studied the numbers again. "What about in the public universe? What are the rules there?"

"In many ways they are similar to those in the private universes. That's a function of the programming. We found it more efficient to do that rather than write and maintain separate modules for each person."

"And the rules? You didn't really answer my question. What are the differences?"

"The denizens will accept most of what you do without question. They will react to criminal activities just as in our world. The definition," she added, raising her hand to forestall his question, "is if there is a victim. Crimes that have been deemed victimless are not considered crimes in the public universe."

"I don't know," he said. "It seems as if everything these days is a crime, and everyone is a victim."

She clicked on a hotlink. "Legal definitions are from the Yale Law Review, Autumn, 1895. Almost all of the so-called victims will not find their crimes listed here. For example, public intoxication is illegal in many states. In the public universe it is your business. However you are liable for physical damage caused by your intoxication."

He nodded. "All right, I can see that. 1895?"

"We considered a later timeframe, but all of the essentials were enumerated in 1895. We have an Annex listed at the back of the contract with the crimes we've included that were not in the Law Review."

He read those. "I'm surprised these were not included."

"These reflect some of the changes in society in the last 110 years."

"So if I—"

"If you commit murder, Mr. Sanderson, you will be punished quickly and severely. You must remember, we know where you are in the public universe."

"I see. But what of other things, items not covered here."

"Such as?"

"I don't know. I'm just looking for information."

"If they're not on the list, they are not a problem."

"What if I institute some change?"

"Just by being there you've instituted a change," she replied. "But for the most part, except for murder, changes you cause will null out over a period of time."

He paged through the contract again. "What's this Age-of-Entry clause?"

"You can enter either of the universes at whatever physical age you choose. If you enter as a minor, you will have parents provided. We reserve the right to reject your Age-of-Entry request. The earliest age we've accepted was 9-years-old, and the reasons presented were compelling. The earliest we routinely allow is 14."

"I wasn't thinking of quite that young," he said. He reread one section, and then checked a series of boxes on the screen in front of him. "All right, I'll go for the public universe, with the conditions I've chosen."

She read his selections. "All right. Age-of-Entry: 15; Date selected: 22 years ago. Gender: Male. Length of stay: one day.

"Very well, Mr. Sanderson. After confirmation of payment, we will schedule your appointment."

"How long will that be?"

She smiled and pushed a button on her desk. "No more than an hour, Mr. Sanderson. In the meantime, please accept our hospitality." The door opened behind him. He turned to see a young, dark-haired woman in a dark gray business suit waiting for him.

"Gloria will take you to the Hospitality Suite."

He ducked his head in thanks, and followed Gloria down the hall to a small lounge painted dark green. There were couches against the wall, tables scattered around, and a collection of history books in shelves on both sides of the door. There was a wet bar on one side of the room, and a large flat-screen video on the other.

"Feel free to browse," Gloria said, gesturing at the books. "These are accounts of life in each specific year the Foundation can send you to. You can order nearly anything from the wet bar. The video screen will show you what is going on in the Current Time Universe.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Can I see other universes?"

"Not yet. We're working on that."

That made him feel better. "Thank you, I expect I'll be fine."

"When we're read, sir, I'll accompany you to the chamber." She withdrew, closing the door behind her.

He drew a beer and wandered over to the video screen. The view was from the second story of a building in a small town. People were walking around, some clearly shopping, others going about some unnamed business. The weather seemed fair; people were in shirtsleeves.

He settled back on one of the couches to watch, nursing his beer. He'd read that your physical state when you entered carried over with your persona. He didn't want to start out drunk, or even with a mild buzz. After the first beer he'd switch to something non-alcoholic.

He awoke sitting in a chair in a room. He ran his hands over his body and face. He felt better than he had in years. He needed a shave, but he'd had a bad case of 5 o'clock shadow ever since he'd hit puberty. He got up, swaying slightly until he found his balance. The brochure had said that might happen. He was getting used to muscles and reactions he hadn't had in years.

He turned; there was a mirror in the corner, and the face that looked back at him was one he hadn't seen since his high school years. He was wearing a polo shirt and jeans. Those had been the norm for guys at the high school he'd attended. He checked the wallet he felt in his right hip pocket: $105, more than he'd ever carried with him. He could also feel coins in a front pocket. At least they hadn't left him destitute.

He left the room, keeping his fingers against the wall for balance. There was a sign in the hall: Your watch has been set to show your time remaining. Please return to this room for the last few minutes of your stay. Failure to do so will result in an additional charge.

"Fair enough," he muttered. His watch showed 23 hrs, 51 min. There was a sign next to the door at the end of the hall giving the address of the building.

I know this building, he thought. It was an old boarding house in the town where he'd grown up. There had always been strange things said about it, that derelicts and crazy people had lived there. Most of those were just stories, but now he wondered how much of a basis in reality those stories had.

He wandered out onto the sidewalk. He was in the middle of town. To his left he could see the statue of Benjamin Franklin that marked the official center of town. To his right he could see the department store his mother used to take him to.

"Anything I want?" he asked himself, and grinned. There were things he'd always wanted to do as a kid, especially as a teenager, and this was his opportunity.

The people in the department store greeted him affably. He browsed through the racks, his eye on the dressing rooms. When he saw a well-built woman carry some clothes in them, he followed. The woman at the counter didn't even try to stop him.

There were six changing stalls, and all were open except for the middle one on the right. He remembered that these were held shut with magnets. He pushed it open.

The woman looked up sharply, and then visibly relaxed. She'd taken off her blouse and slacks. He stood there watching as she tried on two different dresses and a blouse. When she was done he gave her a smile and walked out.

"That was almost too easy," he said when he got out to the sidewalk. He wanted to see how far he could go. He saw the gym down the street, and smiled. "Let's see how they handle this."

The gym was crowded with people. He walked into the Women's Locker Room, and had a seat on one of the benches. Two women were at the other end of the bench, stripping off their leotards. When they were naked, they wrapped towels around their bodies and headed for the showers.

He followed, watching as they washed, their hands running all over their bodies. They glanced at him once or twice, but it was as if he was just part of the furniture. They showed none of the frantic grabs for modesty he remembered from the time he'd been caught spying on women in a locker room.

He followed them briefly after they'd dressed. The two women spoke briefly, and then parted. He considered following one of them, but changed his mind when he thought about it. He didn't know them, and that alone lessened the thrill of seeing their naked bodies.

That gave him an idea. There was a clock on the building across the street. It was early afternoon, and there should be plenty of time for what he wanted.

The high school was a block off the main street through town. He strolled through the front doors, a teenage boy in the middle of a crowd of teenagers. He looked around, recognizing a few faces. Some belonged to friends, others to people who had snubbed him. He saw one of those in particular: Maryjo DeKalb, a fox and a snob.

Maryjo was standing at a locker, chatting with two of her friends. All three were wearing denim miniskirts with ragged hems, and white, short-sleeved blouses. All three had long hair; Maryjo's was long and blonde, the other two had darker hair.

He was next to one of the Home Ec classrooms. He stuck his head in. The room was empty. He saw a pair of scissors on a table, and picked them up. These would come in handy in the next few minutes.

"... Study Hall," Maryjo was saying to her friends when he walked up. She glanced at him, and glanced away. It wasn't the contemptuous glance he remembered from high school. This was just a casual look as if he was just another student.

"We've got a few minutes," one of the other girls said—Rosalie, he remembered.

By unspoken agreement they drifted down the hall to the Girl's Restroom. Just like he had with the changing room, he followed them in.

His heart was pounding, and his palms felt clammy. The changing room and the locker room had been impersonal. But he knew these people, and he had the feeling he didn't belong here. He grinned. He might not, but if what he'd read was right, nobody was going to say anything.

They took their turns in the stall. He remembered these: they had a latch to assure the doors stayed closed. He wasn't going to get a good look... He smiled and stepped into the adjoining stall and peered over the top.

Maryjo was in the stall, her skirt and panties down around her ankles. She had a wad of toilet paper in her hand, and was staring vaguely at the door as she peed. When she was done she wiped, then pulled up her panties and skirt.

He got down, slightly disappointed that he hadn't seen anything. He patted the scissors. He was going to see more than he expected.

Maryjo was primping in front of the mirror while one of the other girls used the toilet. He came up behind her, scissors in hand.

"Hold still," he told her, and she froze. He felt the curve of her bottom, then squatted down and lifted her skirt. When he was pretty sure he had it right, he cut away several inches of skirt. He had her turn around; the hem just barely covered the crotch of her panties. He trimmed away another ½". Then he reached under her skirt and snagged her panties. He wasn't sure if she'd object if he touched her pussy, so he stayed on the outside of her legs.

Her pussy was covered with a wisp of blonde hair. He thought she'd been a natural blonde, and this confirmed it.

He did the same to the other two girls, then unbuttoned their blouses to remove their bras. Three pairs of lush tits stared at him as he cut away the buttons on their blouses.

"Put them on," he said, "and tie them under your breasts, but loosely."

They did so, and he followed them out into the hall. They attracted attention, but no more than what he'd seen before. The real change came when they went to their next classes. As he'd thought, the skirts rode up their legs, leaving their bare pussies visible to everyone. Their tits were falling out of their blouses, and he could see every boy following them as the girls got up to do things at the blackboard. And every boy made a point of walking by one of their desks.

It didn't make up for the humiliation they'd put him through, but he liked to think it got back at them in some small way.

The Girls Locker Room was interesting, but a lot like that gym he'd visited. He certainly got an eyeful of every girl he remembered from school. Some of them surprised him; Sue Ellen, for example, had clearly padded her bra. He did have fun with a couple of the girls; he took the clothes from three of the girls, leaving them only their blouses to wear. They left the Locker Room naked from the waist down, and their boobs bouncing under their blouses.

He left their clothes in the Locker Room's office so he couldn't be accused of stealing anything. That should satisfy any programming quirks he might run into.

He finally saw the one girl he really wanted, Karra St. James. She was the school slut, and if he recalled right, she entertained any boy who was willing after school. When the last bell rang he followed her outside. She had a key to one of the storage rooms for athletic equipment.

A couple of boys were ahead of him, and he had to wait while they finished. Then he entered, pulling the door shut and locking it behind him. He wanted privacy for this.

"You're kind of big," Karra said when he undressed. She was wearing a skirt and top, and was sitting on one of the gym mats.

"Why don't you let me see it," he said, just as he had the one time he'd dared get alone with her.

She pulled her skirt up to her waist. "Like this?"

He began stroking his cock. "Yeah, just like that."

He'd seen a note in the contract that his physical reactions would be faster, and so he wasn't surprised when his cock came up must faster than usual. It was larger than normal, too, dark brown, with a head that was almost purple and already dripping come.

"Why don't you give me that big fellow," Karra said. That was an improvement. The only time he'd gotten alone with her she'd been disappointed in him, and had said so.

"Are you ready for it?"

She'd been rubbing her pussy. Now she spread her legs wide. "Give it to me, big boy."

He knelt between her legs and pressed his cock down through the slick folds of her sex. When he found her entrance he thrust, sliding half of his length into her.

"Umm, I like that."

It was like being grabbed by a hot, wet vice. Her pussy was clenching at him, and he'd only given her half of it. He drew back slightly, and thrust again. This time he slid all of the way in her.

The vice was hotter and tighter, and he could feel her pussy muscles rippling as they massaged his length.

I might cum just from entering her, he thought. He wanted to hold back, but this was his universe. If she was disappointed, tough. He began to thrust.

He lasted half a dozen strokes before he felt his balls tighten up. With a grunt he emptied them in her. She quivered at each blast of cum, sighing when he was finished.

"How soon can you go again?" she asked quietly. "I want even more of that thing."

He'd pulled out, rocking back on his heels. He certainly wanted more, and the moment he got it up, he would take it.

Karra sat up and began licking the head of his cock. She was obviously very skilled at it, and when she had their combined juices licked away, started sucking him.

This was much better than he'd imagined it. In no time he was hard. He pushed her back onto the mat, and entered her again.

He lasted longer, this time, bringing her to a writhing, clawing, bucking orgasm before it was too much to bear. As she came again he did so, too, flooding her with his cum.

By the time the afternoon was over he'd fucked her to completion twice more. He was wiped out, but still had the strength to get to his feet, collect his clothes, and dress. Karra was sprawled out on the gym mat, her hair a tangled mess, her eyes half-closed, her nipples dark red spikes jutting into the air, and cum leaking out of her pussy.

He left the door unlocked, an open invitation to anyone who wanted more of her. He started to get dressed, but stopped. He didn't have to, did he? He'd find out.

The next few hours were a blur. He ate at a diner, and the waitress gave him a blowjob, accepting a mouthful of cum in place of a tip. A woman on a side street let him fuck her from behind, with her pushed up against a parked car. And another woman, this one in the park, willingly undressed and took him twice.

The sun had set hours before when he finally got to his feet and staggered away. He was a sexual machine. He tried to count: Was that four women? And how many times had he cum? He'd lost track. Well, he still had one more visit to make before the night was over.

He could see the light on in Maryjo DeKalb's room. He tried the front door, and was surprised that it was open. Maryjo's father looked up, saw him, and went back to the television program he was watching.

He took the stairs quietly, trying to calm his thundering heart. This was just whacky enough he was afraid he'd gone too far. When he had sufficient control over his nerves, he opened the door.

Maryjo was at her desk doing her homework. She was wearing jeans, a tee-shirt, and slippers. She looked up, saw his reflection in the mirror, and went back to her paper.

"May I touch you?" he asked in a low voice. "May I touch you all over, intimately?" It was lame, but if it worked then it wasn't stupid.

"Uh, sure." Her face took on a confused look, but after a second that vanished. He stepped behind her, sliding his hands under her body to cup her breasts. They were soft, but firm; he didn't know if that was because of the bra she was wearing, or if that was normal.