A/N: This is a male power-fantasy sort of story. I'm writing this to try and break my writer's block.
Content:
male protagonist, fantasy, creampie, cheating, breeding, pregnancy, group sex, magic, fantasy
Chapter 1
A day into this strange world, the man from Earth suspected there was a reason he woke up with blood on his tunic.
Walking into civilization--a medieval village that had to contain less than three hundred people--Ryker was greeted with shock. These people knew him; these people worried over his disappearance. Ryker learned he had never returned from a hunt, which was strange, since Ryker had never pursued anything outside of business deals and women.
Pulled along by an old man that claimed to have taught him poker, Ryker saw his first familiar faces all day: his mother and father.
They greeted him with tears and hugs. His mother kissed his cheek. She wore clothes that belonged in a medieval museum.
"All right, all right," Ryker said, once he and his parents were alone in a one-story brick house, "what's going on? Why is everyone freaking out? No--why is everyone dressed like we're in some sort of renaissance festival? And why are we in the middle of nowhere?"
"Ryker, dear, what are--" his mother started to say.
"Oh no. Oh no, no, no. I recognize that look in his eyes. My younger brother had that same perplexed gaze, once." His father stumbled to a chair, dread on his face. "Boy, did you get hit in the head? Are your memories jumbled up?"
"What do you mean 'are my memories jumbled'? I remember everything perfectly. Why are we in this...poor little house? Where's my phone? Our cars? Our TV and internet?"
"Boy, I have no clue what you're saying. What's a...phone? A car?" To Ryker's mother, he said: "Take it easy on him. The lad's memories are scrambled like a good pair of eggs."
His mother fell into his father's lap. "Gods, please no," she said, her lips wobbling and a tear falling down a brown eye.
"My memories aren't fucking scrambled. What's going on?"
"Language, Ryker." His father rubbed his face. "Gods, I don't mean to be ungrateful, but the spirits may have played a trick on you. Don't act like I haven't noticed the blood on your tunic. Boy, that's not a wound you can survive without some fancy potion from an alchemist who won't set foot within ten miles of these parts. The spirits must have saved you. But the price they've extracted is your mind."
"Praise the spirits." His mother made some sort of religious symbol with her hands.
"...What do you mean by potions?"
The conversation lasted a long time. While his mother made lunch, his father talked about the world. He spoke of magic, monsters, and heroes. He spoke of gods, of Ryker's family, of the family business. They were the best hunters in the region. Ryker put a smile on his face while his father puffed up with pride. They were nobodies. Ryker had a sense of scale that his father, who had never stepped foot into a city in this world, never could. Not a single one of the people in this village mattered to the capital, outside of the taxes they paid like ten thousand other villages in this medieval kingdom.
After eating stew and bread--he already missed modern food--Ryker begged for some alone time to take a nap. He needed to clear his head. He needed to wake up from this dream. What hurt him more than anything else, more than the loss of his friends and possessions, was the loss in status. He never wanted to be another face in the crowd. A drive had always burned in him, seeing his home town get left behind by technology. And now...he could never be someone special. A medieval world would never let a peasant become king, become someone influential.
When he slept, he dreamed of a goddess who was always walking in front of him. It made sense. Fire bloomed in every step, hurting Ryker when he tried to follow. Yet he stuck to that burning path, driven by her beauty. Her perfect ass swayed, hypnotizing him, leashing him. He persisted. She was clad in a flowing racy outfit that left the sides of her thighs bare, and he prayed that it would shift enough to expose her behind. The pain would all be worth it, then.
She giggled.
Ryker woke up. His feet ached. His boner reminded him of his dream. "Haven't had a sex dream since I was a teenager," he muttered.
Throughout dinner, his glum mood showed. He missed Earth. His mother and father tried to cheer him up, giving him copper coins to visit the tavern and get a drink.
Accepting may have been a mistake. By the time he had ordered a beer, everyone in the tavern knew the spirits had 'played a trick on his mind'. It was the only story he could tell for why he recognized only some people, let alone why he remembered nothing from their childhood. There was Alex, a man he had lost touch with on Earth but remained good friends with here. Stacey, his crush in high school, worked as the most popular waitress. Becky was sitting with her husband and baby, which came as a shock since she had also left their small-town for better jobs. He had never taken her for a housewife, but opportunities were fewer here, especially for a woman--her husband looked rich at least.
From what his mother and father had said, Ryker figured this world had many of the norms of medieval Europe, yet exceptions were more common. Property laws protected everyone. It must be due to the influence of magic. It was hard to believe that it existed for real. Ryker wished he could use it. What was the point of waking up in a fantasy life without being special?
"Hey there, Ryker, that's three beers you've had by yourself now." The waitress, Stacey, slid into the seat across from him. "What's up? Are those rumors really true?"
"Yep! I don't know a fucking thing from the past. Just some made up fantasies." Three beers wasn't enough for Ryker to spill the truth.
"So you really don't remember nothing? You don't remember Alex tripping into a cow-pie last year? Becky's marriage? Anything?"
"Nope. Nada. Zero." Ryker looked up, smiling. "I would have loved to see Alex trip, though."
Stacey smiled, charming him with her perfect teeth, blue eyes, and blonde hair. "It was hilarious! And the talk of the town for a whole week, before a chicken attacked Old Man Smith. You don't know that either, right? Smith was fine, but he wouldn't stop promising to cook that chicken into a stew. It was great." Stacey giggled.
News was small without the internet. "I can imagine that," Ryker laughed as well. His eyes dipped down to Stacey's cleavage when she leaned forwards, appreciating her sizable chest. He missed her cheerleading outfit.
"Say, Ryker," she said, whispering and winking when he made eye contact with her again, "you don't remember what my second job is, do you?"
"Second job?"
"Not so loud. I...provide a special kind of relief. A kind of relief for only men. It's why women like Becky are suspicious of me. Between you and me, she's right to give me a shifty look." Stacey stared into his eyes, almost willing him to understand.
