Hentai Travelogue

(Note - This is a slow burn story, and there is no sex in this chapter either, it will turn up in future chapters. All my thanks to the original creator Costaway who inspired me and let me write in his world)

RyuKenDragon Presents

Hentai Travelogue

Based on Hentai Travels by Costaway

Chapter One

Weirdly enough, the first thing to hit me was the change in the texture of the air.

I live in a coastal town, and at all times of year the air is thick with humidity. From the sleeting winter to the scorching summer, moisture is abundant in every breath. It's the kind of thing you're completely unaware of when you grow up in it, but my few travels to other countries and extended conversation with a friend from South Africa (who swears summers are worse in Britain then continental Africa as whilst the temperature is more intense, hot weather in the UK feels like 'living in soup' in comparison) had made me more aware of it as an adult. It wasn't as bad as a rainforest or anything, but you get used to the air being thick in weather extremes.

The air I was breathing was not thick. Calling it thin seems wrong since it was obviously full of oxygen and I wasn't suffocating. Maybe.... diffused? Very different from what I would expect from my town, let alone my bedroom, anyway. And there were a series of unfamiliar smells drifting in it as well.

The next thing that hit me was the noise, or rather the lack of it. I usually had a bedside fan running while I slept, because most British homes are built to trap heat in and not let it out, and very few places have air conditioning, meaning that inside, when summers are hot, they're fucking HOT. My fan generally kept me comfortable, and whilst I could feel a slight breeze, the pattern and temperature were nothing like my fan.

But the split second of focus on these irregularities was swiftly interrupted by the realization that I was definitely not in my bed. The surface I was lying on was hard beneath me, and there were the distant sounds of traffic echoing around me.

I opened my eyes and bolted upright, panic swiftly filling my veins with adrenalin and my eyes adjusting to the gloomy light of the area around me. My belly went cold. Where the fuck am I and what the fuck happened?

As far as I could tell I was laying sprawled in a random alley in an area I had never been before. The lack of light made it hard to see much, but the immediate impression was 'Not Local'. The muted color of the concrete, the bricks either side of alley, and the shapes I could see ahead -

My train of thought went swiftly screeching to a halt as a dazzling light suddenly blinded me. I shielded my eyes and a male voice called out, 'Sir, please stay still and remain calm.'

Through my fingers I made out a large form pointing a flashlight at me, presumably having walked down the alley and found me. He talked again, 'Sir can you tell me your name please?' Still unable to make anything out about the figure but recognizing an American accent, I called out to him, 'My name's Arthur. Where are we please?'

'That's good. We're in an alley off of the strip.' My confusion must have shown on my face as he continued 'In Revas City. My name is Deputy Stoltz, I'm a Police Officer. Are you hurt at all?'

'I don't think so.' I replied, as my internal thoughts screamed where the fuck is Revas city and how the fuck did I get here? I patted myself down and could find no obvious injuries or wounds -- but I was wearing clothes which I definitely had not been doing in bed. I had what looked like simple slacks and a button up white shirt. I began to ease myself into a standing position.

'Easy Sir, please move nice and slowly, and keep your hands visible at all times.' I hesitated for a second at that and thought what, does he think I'm dangerous? Floated up into my head before my forebrain caught up and supplied, Ooooh. Right. Police Officer -- AMERICAN Police Officer finds some random stranger lying in an alley with no idea where he is. Yeah, that's suspicious. I made sure to follow his commands as I stood and my eyes finally began to adjust.

The Police officer was a large, heavyset male with very broad shoulders, a craggy face and short gray hair. He was dressed in a uniform (one of the beige/brown ones some American police wear) with one hand pointing a flashlight at me -- albeit not in my eyes any more -- and the other hand resting on the holstered weapon at his hip. This made me very nervous -- armed police are a rarity in my country, and I could count the number of times I'd seen a legitimate firearm on two fingers.

I made a point of keeping my hands... not up exactly, but to my sides and away from my pockets, and stood up straight and looked him in the eye, desperately trying to project an aura of calm cooperation over my internal panic. Keep it together. He's here to help.

He watched me right myself calmly and said 'Are you sure you're feeling okay sir? No injuries?' At my head shake he asked 'Have you been drinking tonight Sir?'.

'No, officer.'

'And have you taken any drugs?'

'No. Wait - I mean no Illegal drugs, but I took some painkillers for my joints. I have CPDD, and they were prescribed by my doctor.'

The deputy nodded his head and removed his hand from his sidearm, stepping closer to look me over. 'I see. Where are you staying currently, Sir? Are you in a hotel?'

'I...' I hesitated before taking a deep breath. Fuck it. What else can I do? 'Officer, I have no idea where I am right now. I live in the UK, and the last thing I remember was going to bed after work, I don't know what the hell is going on.'

He looked... not skeptical exactly, but maybe nonplussed? 'Really Sir?' He paused. 'And these painkillers you took, do you take them regularly? Have you ever had this problem before? Losing time and confusion?'

He reached over and began to pat the dirt off of my back (And I presume subtly frisk me for weapons) as I replied. 'No, the worst thing they do is usually knock me out for a while, but they don't affect my memory.'

'Could you have taken too many?'

I hesitated. 'Its.... not impossible I suppose. I was in a lot of pain when I took them (and I'm not anymore, my joints chimed in), but I've never had that problem before. I work in a hospital, and care with medication there is a VERY big deal, as you can imagine.'

He stopped the pat/frisk and nodded, apparently satisfied with the results. He raised the flashlight to my face again (but switched it to a less bright setting thankfully) and said, 'Sir, can you please follow my finger with your eyes?' I dutifully did what he asked, and he followed it up with a few other tests -- please walk in a straight line, please recite the alphabet, where were you born, etc. I completed them all without complaint, and he eventually seemed satisfied.

He stepped away for a moment and spoke into a radio he pulled from his belt, then came back over.

'Well Sir, you seem to be fine physically and your head seems straight, but I'm a little worried by this lost time you're telling me about. I think we should perhaps get you looked at, just to be safe.'

'I agree with you, officer.' I started to follow him as he began to walk towards the alley before a thought stopped me dead. 'Wait, healthcare costs money here, right? I... I don't know if I can afford it.'

He seemed sympathetic. 'Well a simple examination under police request shouldn't cost anything unless they find something and have to treat you. And you said you're here from the UK?' at my nod he continued 'Most people from Europe get issued a temporary health insurance card with their visa. Do you have yours?

'I don't know, let me check.' I started rifling through my pockets. I noticed Officer Stoltz's hand subtly coming to rest on his firearm again as I did, and tried not to take offense at the inference. It's his job, he doesn't think you're dangerous.

My pockets are usually pretty full, what with my keys, mobile, wallet, inhaler, assorted stuff.

There and then, I had exactly two things in my pockets.

One was a type of credit card I'd never seen before, an elaborate silvery color with my name embossed on it -- which sent a fresh spike of panic into my brain. Oh shit, I got a new credit card? Did I get scammed? Fuck!

The other thing was also a card, a business card with a name, title and number on it. The name was Mrs. Farrah Hamid, and the number was completely unknown to me.

The title was 'Executive Assistant to the Proprietor In Chief'. The only other symbol was what looked like a stylised castle or palace.

The apparent quality of the paper and the inlaid foil and embossing all screamed 'money', but who the apparent Miss Hamid was or who she was the assistant to completely eluded me.

I took a deep breath and showed the cards to Officer Stoltz. 'These are all I have on me. I don't remember getting this credit card. Or this other one.'

We started walking again as he studied the cards. 'Well that is a Platinum Plus card, which is rare. You can't get those unless you pass some pretty strict processing by the bank. Most guys like me will never see one. We found one on a body one time, this executive who got high and took a dive off a balcony.' He shook his head in remembered distaste. 'Real messy. The first corpse I came across after I joined the Force. I was sick for days after.' He handed the card back to me and looked at the other. 'This one has the symbol for the Otherside Casino on it. I dunno who this Ms Hamid is, but she's gotta be a worker there.' He handed it back to me. 'Any of this jogging your memory sir? You remember visiting the Otherside? It's the biggest and most profitable casino in the city.'

As I shook my head mutely, we finally left the alley and walked onto the main street, and I found myself dumbstruck. Holy shit. This place is amazing.

It was like an art-deco depiction of a utopian city. All brass, steel and marble with intricate designs and sleek lines ruling the day. The unusually clean sidewalks were full of pedestrians of every race and gender, there were neon signs and adverts everywhere, and the sheer scale of the buildings and streets was stunning.

It kind of reminded me of Rapture from the Bioshock games, but far brighter and less cynically designed. And obviously not underwater.

At my obvious awe, Officer Stoltz grinned. 'Yeah, Revas in the evening is a sight to see. Been here for nearly Forty years now, and I still have to just stop and take it in now and then.' He clapped my shoulder and steered me to the right. 'Come on, my squad car is up here.'

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We eventually made it to his squad car after a few minutes of walking, and as we did a few observations managed to push their way through my disorientation and receding panic at my circumstances.

One -- This city and/or street was obviously a tourist hot-spot, or at least an important local gathering point. The sheer amount and variety of people, some of whom were clearly looking around with just as much awe as me, made it obvious. That and huge shopping bags and constant photography. In my town we referred to that type of easily impressed and just this-side-of-annoying tourist as 'grockles'.

Two -- I REALLY had no idea where this city was. It was a pretty safe bet on America or maybe Canada, but beyond that it was a mystery. There were superficial similarities to videos I'd seen of Las Vegas, especially in the abundant Casino signs and XXX places offering a vast array of options (I had an idle thought along the lines of 'wait, I thought prostitution was illegal on the strip in Las Vegas? Is it okay here?) but the style was far more uniformly art-deco and tasteful. Even the signs in windows blatantly listing sex acts and how much they would cost were written and displayed in an relatively classy way.

Three -- There was something subtly...off about the people. It wasn't their language or appearance, but more a subtle combination of factors. The majority of them were dressed in unusual elegance, with the theme leaning heavily to 1940s high-fashion. But much more racy. The skirts were either shorter or with slits revealing vast expanses of leg and thigh, there was copious cleavage, and the men were all either in opened shirt fabio-esque outfits that showed off their own type of cleavage, or well tailored suits designed to show off shoulders and builds. Definitely not the typical styles I'd have expected in modern day.

And was it modern day? I'd normally find even questioning that idea ridiculous, but hell, waking up apparently having been transported to another continent had swiftly re-organised how unlikely certain concepts were. The overall aesthetic was very 40s-Gone-Sexual, but the cars looked relatively modern, and there were smartphones in use by plenty of pedestrians, and a few huge video billboards showing contemporary products and service. And yet the shops and streets all seemed to be thriving, which was increasingly unusual in the Internet Shopping age.

It was all kind of off putting. The style and fashions were from a much more conservative time, but the people seemed to be very liberated by modern standards. There were a vast array of races displayed in the population, I saw what I presumed to interracial and same-sex couples from the way they were walking arm in arm or giving public displays of affection. And upon seeing a happy man and woman arm-in-arm strolling together into a neon-lit strip club and/or brothel, I realised the sexual norms were probably far more open then could be expected.

It all combined to give me an uneasy headache. Thoughts of what the fuck happened and where the fuck are we were competing for dominance in my brain, and the hyper-stimulation of the people, neon signs and open sexuality were making hard for me to concentrate through the still lingering cold dread in my gut.

Officer Stoltz, or 'Logan' as he'd begun insisting I call him, had dropped the formality now I'd proven myself to not be an armed maniac, and he could obviously sense my distress and was making a valiant effort to keep me distracted, telling me all about his family and what life was like down in the local RPD precinct, with a few well-chosen 'No shit, there I was' stories full of bumbling criminals and risqué arrests peppered in, and I found myself feeling almost pathetically grateful. With all the bad press you hear about cops, especially American cops, it was refreshing to find a man so competent and friendly.

After what felt like an hour to my addled brain, but probably was more like ten minutes, we eventually came to Logan's squad car, parked near a cash machine, where he told me he'd left it before starting the foot patrol where he stumbled onto my unconscious form.

'Here we go. We'll run you up to Dr Myers clinic and get her to look you over.' He then turned his head to look at the nearby cash machine. 'Or hey, idea. You've got that card right? Try and see if you can use it.' Off my hesitant look he continued. 'Don't worry, just check the balance, don't try and take any money out. And hey, if they do try and get on your case for looking, tell them I told you to.' I sighed and headed over to the machine, as Officer Logan called out after me 'Great! Once you've got the lay of the land we'll get your noggin checked and then we'll grab some doughnuts when I get off my shift!' I could tell from his tone that he was joking and rolled my eyes as I got to the machine.

I sighed and pulled out the apparent 'platinum plus' card and slid it in. When it asked for my PIN I used the same one as my old card back home. The machine obediently accepted it and moved to the top of the options screen. Fuck. If my pin works that means I probably had something to do with it. Fuck! I bit back a groan and selected the balance, reasoning that if I didn't try to withdraw anything, the bank might not sue me for fraud.

Then I froze.

I think I might have stopped breathing for a minute.

'Buddy? Y'allright?'

I felt Logan's hand on my shoulder.

Mutely, I pointed at the screen, and he turned his head to look.

There was a pause.

It extended.

'Well.....' Officer Logan began after some time. 'I guess the doughnuts are on you, bud.'

The balance was over One Billion Dollars.