A.N:
I'm pretty sure you know the drill with these kinds of stories at this point. Isekai ones, that is. I first began typing this as an exercise to shake the rust off of my writing skills, and also because I'm a sucker for monster girls. Eventually, this little side thing turned into something more, and now I'm pretty hyped up for what it's gonna be next. The way I'm writing it is very novel to me, and more experimental than anything, so I'm eager to see what you guys think.
This won't be a power fantasy, where the MC is stronger than god, or becomes a legendary hero, or anything of the sort, so if that's the kind of story you're looking for, I'm afraid you won't find that here. In fact, the "hero" of this story is very much an average schmoe, put into situations wildly beyond his control, and will likely remain that way until any kind of character development happens to him.
To the readers of my previous works, do not worry, T.U.a.D.o.N.B.a.T is not abandoned by any means! I just lost my work on the next chapter, and have been particularly busy last year, so let me apologize for the wait, first of all. That story will receive an update in due time, when I inevitably regain plot ideas and motivation for it, but in the meantime, enjoy this garbage.
Alright, so, for the select few I haven't scared off yet, welcome aboard Mr Noodle's wild ride, please take a seat, and do your best not to regurgitate your innards as I lead you through this steaming pile of word vomit I call a fanfic
Please don't hesitate to leave a review, I am begging you, I need those to survive. Any criticism is appreciated, even if it's only to say how shit the story is (which I already know, of course), so feel free to go off on me like a mother of five does to an underpaid McDonald's employee. You guys are the reason I keep writing, and I can't thank you enough for it.
And with that out of the way, here it comes...
[ {} I-._.-I {} ]
CHAPTER THE 1ST
It all happened terribly fast. Faster than he could even comprehend, to be honest, as even replaying the events in his mind did nothing to help him piece together the why's and how's.
One moment he was minding his business, walking down the street, savoring just the tastiest kebab during lunch break, as you do, until being rudely bothered by what he could only assume was the unmatched power of the sun. The sudden blinding light, and the sheer mind-breaking agony he was experiencing certainly alluded to that fact, or at least to something similar, because by god did this fucking hurt. His skin, or what was most likely left of it, felt like its every inch had been doused in pitch and set on fire, before his burning heap of a body was tossed into an anthill.
The pain was undescribable. Although it didn't really matter much since he had no one else to describe it to at the time, and even if he did, his explanation would most likely come out as a singular, long-winded scream. Besides, it's not like he could speak anyway, not anymore. He couldn't feel his own face or mouth, and whenever he tried to vocalize his pain, all he would manage to do is add to the ever-increasing pile of dead silence, his only companion in the black, inky void.
Oh, yes, he was in the void, that's right. Almost forgot to process that through the pain. Normally, he would be having a severe mental breakdown right about now, but he was a little too busy still dying inside to worry about being dead. "I have no mouth and I must scream", was a very literal depiction of his current feelings and thought process, which would last long after his agony dulled to a more bearable level, then into nonexistence after a time. Or maybe he was just getting used to it, and it, in fact, had not dulled at all. Truly he could not tell.
As it turns out, when you're not under intense metaphysical anguish, the void is pretty fucking boring. Just pure black as far as the eye can see, without light or shadow, something that fucked with his depth perception a fair bit. He was stranded, entirely alone with his thoughts, and had no clue what was happening to him. He couldn't feel himself, couldn't see himself, and it took him a moment to realize that was because he was missing a body. He was just a speck of something, of nothing, floating in space. He'd have bawled his eyes out, if he could still do that.
These thoughts, these events, had already happened, a while ago in fact. How long, exactly? He couldn't tell. Hours? Days? Months? Years maybe? His perception of time was skewed here, he would've killed for a stopwatch. At least enough of it had passed for his psyche to stabilize, and for a semblance of sanity to be recovered, so that had to count for something, right? As his composure progressively came back to him, his thoughts, once suppressed, were now left to wander.
Was this death? Was he dead? Was that what it was like? If so, it was super boring. And cliché. Fuck's sake, he didn't even know what killed him! It hurt like a motherfucker, too! Couldn't he just have become like, a cool ghost or something? Would've been way better than this! He still had business in the living world, he had a whole slew of folders left to sort through at work! He was still a virgin! Absolutely tragic!
Fine, perhaps that first one didn't really matter to him that much, but dying without once feeling the touch of a woman, he thought, would've been enough regret to bring him back from the grave. Aren't virgins supposed to live forever, or at least feel like they do? Personally, he felt his life was cut short. Way shorter than he would've liked, early twenties was considered prime age where he came from. Was that punishment? Was that God? Did God exist? Was he being sentenced to an eternity in the abyss by God? What would he even be punished for?
Sure, there was that one time when he stole a latte by accident, or that other time when he didn't pay his highway toll upon entry in Texas, which somehow cost him over ten thousand dollars in bills, or all the pirated software he...
Okay, maybe he wasn't that clean of a person, but he was pretty sure all of this was relatively minor stuff, and that a good portion of his misdeeds couldn't technically be classified as sins. Maybe it's because he was an Atheist? And that was his punishment for being a nonbeliever?
If so, God was a spiteful, spiteful dick.
These had been what most of his ruminations were like, for the past few whatever units of time you can think of. As far as he was concerned, today was Monday, boring o' clock, and would stay that way for the foreseeable future. Or at least, until whatever happened next happened. While floating, carried around by invisible, intangible torrents, the man began to feel something. After what felt like eons of nothingness, a feeling, any feeling, was very much welcomed, and the moment he felt himself resonate with whatever that thing was, he latched onto it, desperately. Anything was better than this, he thought, and while trying to get a better grip onto it, he came to realize something.
He could move. Holy fuck, he could steer himself. He didn't know how he did it, but he could will himself to turn, and judging by the direction the feeling was pulling him in, it actually worked. He just couldn't tell before, without any stimuli. With unbridled joy, he madly dashed towards the thing he had felt, the sensation becoming more and more prevalent the more distance he covered, the more progress he made. It was as if his very being was breathed life into, a comfortably warm feeling in his gut, drawing him in. He could see now. He always could. And saw he did.
A bashful yellow light, draping over him, gentle, like a mother's embrace. Wordless, yet meaningful, understood. "Everything is going to be alright", it said, it reflected. And he believed it wholeheartedly. As he felt that great, bountiful thing envelop him, a single message was passed onto him, playing on repeat in his mind.
"Live." It asked of him.
"Live." It said.
"Live." It demanded.
Somewhere, off the beaten path and into the wild, deep within nowhere, a displaced body stirred. Eyes blinked, limbs hurt, and Seam woke up with the worst fucking hangover he's ever had. And so began the dumbest, most absolutely idiotic tale to have ever graced this god-forsaken world, and all others. So, feast your eyes, dear reader.
This is the story of how a fool became king.
[ {} I-._.-I {} ]
This dumpster fire was brought to you by The Man With A Noodle
HEIR TO THE CUM THRONE
Chapter 1: The day I failed to die and stop being a stain on society
[ {} I-._.-I {} ]
"H-holy... Fuck..." The man groaned, rubbing at his eyes with one hand, the other nursing the side of his head, in a futile attempt to quell his massive headache. "Holy fucking shit..."
Did anyone catch the licence plate on that truck? His bones and tendons felt like they'd been whittled down into a slinky, and then defragmented by a five year old without anesthesia, the worst offender of which currently being his pounding skull, conjuring the mother of all migraines upon the poor bastard. He tried to sit himself up, but the merest of movements was straight torture at the moment, so he opted to just lay down and, hopefully, die soon enough.
But there was no hope in this wicked world, and as Seam soon noticed, he was still very much alive. Manning up, and deciding a mere hangover wasn't going to do him in, he opened his eyes, fully expecting the ceiling of his decrepit apartment to meet his gaze.
Oh.
Oh it was night then.
Why the fuck was he outside?
It was daytime last he remembered, and while his memories of whatever had just happened were a bit foggy, he thought that, at least, some of his co-workers, or anyone really, would've found him and dragged him somewhere warm by now, sprawled in the middle of the road, kebab in hand. Wait, what?
His gaze flicked down and, sure enough, the half-eaten sandwich was laying on his chest, as proof he hadn't imagined the events prior. What the fuck happened to him? Did someone run him over? He felt like death, but he'd broken bones before, and he was pretty sure this was a different kind of pain. Below physical. Was it the kebab? Did they lace that thing with LSD or something? His eyes widened.
Was he drugged? Oh fuck, this was bad. Very bad. He'd already had a bad trip back in high school, baked on weed, and to say the consequences were catastrophic would be an understatement. Who knew a pothead could do that much damage with just a urinal, a box of matches and some diet coke?
He didn't want to go to prison! He was an innocent man! He'd seen the documentaries, that place is fucking scary! He had to get up, now! Mustering more will than he ever did in his entire live, Seam managed to hoist himself upright into a sitting position, letting out a pained hiss in the process. This new angle had changed his perspective, and now allowed him to truly take in his surroundings, maybe figure out how to walk back home if he was lucky.
...
Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.
Trees. Green, big fucking trees, as far as the eye could see. He was in a small clearing, in the middle of a large forest, surrounded by unfamiliar vegetation. Well, to be fair, quite a bit of vegetation was unfamiliar to him. Seam lived in central Chicago.
Cue freakout.
"WHERE THE FUCK AM I?!" The man exclaimed, as if that would change anything. He thought letting his anger and confusion out would at least make him feel a bit better, but all he managed to do was worsen his headache, which already made him want to bite the bullet. At least, the threat of law enforcement coming down on him with the wrath of a thousand suns seemed to no longer be an issue, but there still begged the question of where he'd ended up, and how he even got there. Did he wander all the way here? He didn't think he did, of if that was really was the case, then damn, he must've went pretty far. Just how shitfaced had he been? Seam picked up the suspicious kebab, which had since rolled down onto his lap, the wrapper thankfully keeping the thing from staining him, and gave it a tentative sniff.
Yeah, no, that was kebab alright. Didn't seem like anything special, to be honest, just regular street food. The more rational side of him figured it was highly unlikely someone had fucked with his food, but preferring to err on the side of caution, Seam carefully wrapped the meal back up, and stored it in one of his loose coat pockets. He had a small plastic bag inside it, in which he shoved the sandwich, hoping it'd keep the inside of the pocket itself from being lined with grease, oil, and whatever other substance was inside the dish.
Bumping against his hand was something that reminded him just how much of a dumbass he was. He had his phone with him. His phone! Of course he had it, the thing never left his side, and he always kept a spare charger on himself just in case! From there on, he could figure out where he was in a heartbeat, he just had to- and there was no service. Of course.
"God dammit..." The man muttered under his breath, a distraught expression on his face. The lack of satellite coverage where he ended up was concerning, but even more so was the device's current battery level, sitting at a not-so-chill eleven percent. Seam promptly turned on power saving mode, and slipped the phone back in his pocket. He had to try and find a high vantage point, or get out of these woods soon. With just a half-eaten, possibly poisoned kebab to sustain him, he doubted he'd be able to last long here, all on his lonesome.
But where could he even go? He looked around again. Did it really matter? His only choices were foliage, foliage, more foliage and, you guessed it, foliage. He figured he could just pick a side and walk in that general direction. And so he did. It was dark, sure, but he was plenty used to low light conditions, and the night sky illuminated just enough to offer him bare visibility through the trees, allowing him to maneuver around them with relative ease. He couldn't see where he was going, but he could see he was going somewhere. Of course, walking alone in the woods, at dead of night, without a light source, sounded like a terrible idea, and to be honest, it was, but Seam didn't have enough power for his phone to serve as a flashlight, and honestly just wanted to get the hell out of this place and find his way back to civilization as soon as possible. Plus, he doubted he could've wandered that far anyway. He didn't do well with long walks, hikes especially.
Actually, he just disliked exercise in general. Procrastinator at heart, Seam would much rather go to sleep than do any of this, and the thought of a warm bed at home, waiting for him, gave him just enough motivation to keep moving forward. While he wasn't fat, so to speak, his lack of physical activity left his body a fair bit thicker than he would've liked, with a belly slightly more rotund than it should've been. Of course, any clothing would do well to hide his proportions, but the fact remained that being out of shape made him pretty self-conscious about himself.
Ironically, that same self-consciousness prevented him from going to the gym. Truly, a saddening affair. There were branches in his way, he pushed them aside, hoping to at least find a pathway soon. Hopefully there would be a power line somewhere he could follow, but he didn't count on it. He entertained the thought of climbing up a tree for a second or two, before he remembered he was not an athlete, and would probably fall down a quarter of the way through, landing on a rock and breaking his spine. Or whatever horrid fate his shit luck would deal him. Case in point, the man was still walking.
But the longer he walked, the more wrong he felt. Maybe it was just the shadows, or him being a pussy as usual, but he could've sworn something was following him. Branches were breaking that he wasn't sure he broke himself, the leaves and bushes rustled in a way that didn't seem natural, and the grass was... Making whatever noise grass makes when you walk through it. Maybe it was just the wind, but...
Nah, probably just the wind. He got paranoid like this all the time when he was out late, and so far, he hadn't gotten robbed nor shanked yet. Still, just to be sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, Seam decided to do what every dumbass horror movie protagonist did.
"Hello?" He called out behind him, looking around. "Anyone there? Anyone at all?"
His only answer was the silence of the forest. It had gotten eerily quiet the moment he stopped walking and paid attention, but apart from that, there didn't seem to be anything there. Not anything he could see, at least, even though he really couldn't see that much. Still, that was reassuring. Slightly. Barely. If there really was anything here other than him, he thought, it'd probably have to be a couple forest critters or something, either curious about him, or afraid and running away. He watched National Geographic, he knew wild animals were skittish when there were people around. He should be fine as long as he doesn't run into a bear or something.
And just like that, those reassuring thoughts were gone. A bear. A bear was dangerous. What would he do if he ran into a bear? Or worse, two bears?? Two very angry, very large bears??? Not keen on finding out, he went back to trekking posthaste, this time at higher speeds. He was not running, just to be clear, he was power-walking. Or so he said, but really, with him, you couldn't tell the difference. He was in a hurry though, that much was certain, and judging by the branches and other stuffs scratching at his clothes when he passed by the trees, his increase in speed was paid for in sight.
Woah, that one almost hit him dead in the mouth. Nearly walloped right in the noggin'. He slowed down a fair ways later, after his pitiful endurance was spent.
Man, he'd been walking for a while now. Where were the people? pulling his phone out, he decided to check for signal, which unsurprisingly yielded no results. It was 4:33 am, he'd essentially been hiking nonstop for about an hour. The horror. His feet hurt, what with all the roots and the uneven ground below him. Fuck, he missed pavement. Nature was fine and all, until you were in it, and realized how much it sucked. Or how much you sucked. It's just a matter of perspective. God knows Seam sucked plenty.
No, not in that way, get your mind out of the gutter. That wouldn't happen until... Err...
So anyways, he was still lost. Looking up as he turned his phone back off, he almost didn't catch the two small glints to his right, at eye level, subtle reflections of his phone's screenlight. Almost. Head turning around with a speed he didn't know he could manage, he quickly pulled the phone back out, and upon turning it on again, pointed the screen towards whatever was there with him.
Nothing.
There was nothing there.
Seam was now sufficiently creeped out.
[ {} I-._.-I {} ]
He found a road eventually. Dirt. It took two hours. It might look like I am making leaps and bounds in my storytelling, dear reader, but rest assured, nothing else interesting happened in the past hour. I wish not to bore you, and to be honest, I really couldn't be bothered transcribing an entire hour's worth of nothing. Perhaps it is unbefitting of a chronicler such as myself, but I digress.
This is my story to tell, anyhow.
Upon this amazing discovery, Seam nearly shed a tear of joy, relief flooding his every nerve. Roads meant people, and people meant a whole slew of things. Not all of which were good. Right now though, it meant civilization, and he was growing desperate. Good thing is, in the time it took for him to get there, hints of the sun had begun to rise on the horizon. It would be day soon enough, and he was oh so grateful. He even got happy for a moment, before reminding himself that he, in fact, was still stranded alone in the middle of the woods, and violently tore that glee to shreds.
And there also was like, a fifty percent chance he was being followed, he assumed. Or maybe more. You couldn't really quantify these kinds of odds, and math never was his forte, in any case. That gave him more of an incentive to move though, and so long as nothing immediately life-threatening happened to him because of it, he figured it was somewhat of a positive thing, albeit loosely so. Very loosely. Ignorance is bliss, as they say, and Seam stubbornly refused to find out if his suspicions were true or not. A weak attempt at safeguarding what little nerve he had.
Now, normally, he'd just stand here like an idiot, wasting precious time pondering which way of the path would be optimal for him to go through, but today, Seam was a sad, angry man. That is to say, he didn't nearly give half as much of a shit as he should've, and ended up taking a right, since that was his dominant hand. And because that way wasn't uphill, unlike the other one. Like hell was he gonna fucking climb after what he'd already been through.
Unbeknownst to him, his choice had been the right one, and as the man soon spotted an orange glow in the distance, his hope became renewed. Fire! Life! A warm fucking bedroll, most likely! People! PEOPLE! With all the strength and vigor of a marathon runner, and in complete disregard for the state he was in, the man began to sprint towards the light at full speed, tears of joy pearling off the sides of his eyes. His every step were thundering claps, and with such a rush of adrenaline coursing through him, he could almost feel himself float, gliding just above ground, about to take off into the stratosphere. He would reach that fire in a time so short it would put Usain Bolt to shame, and upon seeing him, the owner of that bonfire would award him a medal, marshmallows, and the rest of their worldly possessions, as they clearly would be less deserving of them than this admirable, remarkable specimen of a man.
In reality, Seam took exactly two steps, tripped on his own fucking shoe, and fell face-first in a pile of mud.
Eh, close enough.
It could've been worse, he rationalized, trying, and failing, not to let his anger show. It could've been a pile of shit. And wow, wouldn't THAT have been traumatic. Humbled by this failure, this poor, wet noodle of a person picked himself up, and just settled on shambling towards the light as best as he could. He had failed to notice it before, what with the extremely energy-extensive task that was walking, but holy fucking shit, he was cold. Morning dew had definitely lied on the packaging, because as far as he was concerned, this was a morning flood. It had not rained, and yet, somehow, the soil was soggy as a sponge. A wet one, he clarified, as he remembered that, unlike him, sponges had the potential to be dry.
his clothes were dirty and soaked, and he once more felt like death. He'd exhausted himself with that earlier stunt, far more than was comfortable, or even advisable, and it was with great difficulty he managed to drag his pathetic self to the campfire. He had been right. There was indeed a campfire there. That was, maybe, his first correct assumption, so far. Although this one was little more than common sense, with how few and far between these correct guesses appear to be, this was, truthfully, cause for rejoice.
He had done it, he would live to see another day. To his great surprise and delight, maybe, just maybe, he wasn't that shit at... Uh... Existing. Even if he probably looked like the textbook definition of a cryptid, at the moment. He didn't care. A ruffle of leaves dragged his attention beside him, onto what could only be the owner of this here fire. And that sight, while surprisingly beautiful, also weirded the shit out of him.
Fox woman.
Vulpine female.
Vulpes Sapiens Sapiens.
She was a gorgeous lady, with the magnified proportions of a Greek goddess, fairest skin of peach, lucious caramel hair, and a bosom the size of Jupiter itself. Her facial features were angular in all the right places, and her curvaceous figure deserved a goddamn statue in a museum, somewhere. Her eyes were a vibrant, shining yellow color, with small hints of green, while her lips were only slight darker than the skin around them, visibly lacking any makeup. No, putting makeup on a visage this pristine would be nothing short of a crime, punishable by ablation of one's reproductive organs, and then death. But those features, apart maybe from the ridiculously, unrealistically massive badonkers (My apologies, dear reader, he was very insistent I use that word in particular) she kept tied close to her chest, were not the most glaring thing about her.
Fox woman, remember? She had two fuzzy ears, atop her head, passing though her hairline, the color of the fur they were covered in meshing together seamlessly with her hair. Behind her, risen above the waist, were three, thick, fluffy tails, shaped like gigantic paintbrushes, beautifully flowing like water in the wind. She was dressed in an equally stunning silk outfit, reminecent of traditional Japanese kimonos, that somehow managed to both fully cover her modesty, and leave very little to imagination.
Said woman was currently looking at him with a mixture of confusion, awe, joy, surprise, and primal fear. He didn't blame her, he knew he looked like shit. He didn't deserve to be in the presence of this living, breathing work of art, and his whole being knew that, resonated with that thought. He felt, he knew, viscerally, that he was unworthy to even gaze upon her luxurious form.
He was also about to keel over and die, so as expected, he didn't actually give much of a shit. She was probably like, a cosplayer or something, and her costume's design put together both weeb and furry aesthetics. That was good! These were two demographics that rarely ever touched grass, he must be closer to civilization than he thought! Even though the woman before him absolutely lacked any of the fat, grease, and body odor typically associated with those. Now that he thinks about it... It's weird she's just here at a fire, all on her lonesome. Isn't the whole point of cosplaying to be seen by as many people as possible? In the quality department, she was fucking set. Those things looked photorealistic, real even. Through this thorough examination, her face remained frozen, eyes deadlocked onto his own.
It took him a second to realize he'd been staring.
"S-sorry ma'am..." He weakly said, through labored breaths. "I... I don't feel too good..."
For the second time today, face met soil with an undignified slap, startling the fox lady, while Seam only let out a pitiful groan and a muffled "Fuck" at his own misery and pain. He was running on fumes, it was only a matter of time before his body gave out. That point was when the oriental Mamono decided to speak, worry evident in her voice. It would've made him feel better had it just been from obligation alone, but of course she had to do the one stupid thing and actually care about him. Shit, now he felt bad for real.
"Human?" And of course, she had the voice of a fucking angel. Why wouldn't she? "Are you well? Do you have brain damage?" She asked, something along those lines.
While this wasn't how their exact exchange went, word for word, I have full confidence it is a fairly accurate recreation of it. Loathe as I am to admit it, I don't actually remember that part of the story very well, so you'll have to forgive me for the few inaccuracies that may pop up from time to time. Managing the records of one man's life is a long, grueling, troublesome task, dear reader. Especially when said person keeps looking over my shoulder to see if I've yet finished writing his stupid fucking book, when in actuality, I have barely even begun. I sincerely hope, with all my heart, you may never know this pain.
I wish I could say it gets better eventually, but it really doesn't...
[ {} I-._.-I {} ]
"Pain..." Seam let out, groaning. "Everything... Holy shit... Everything hurts..." His hands dragged themselves along the ground, slowly coming around and clasping the sides of his head. "I'm... I'm gonna fucking puke..."
As those words left his lips, the man could feel himself being lifted by the she-fox, with surprising ease actually. She managed to comfortably nestle him against a nearby tree stump, placing some sort of soft thing behind him he couldn't see, and wiping some of the mud off of his face with her hand.
"Are you alright?" She asked again, expression somehow softening even more. "Do you require something of me?"
"Water... Please..." Seam croaked, before he ended up nearly coughing his lungs out. "God... F-fucking dammit..." Why the fuck was his throat so dry? He'd only been crossing the woods out there for two hours, at most, was he really just that much of a pussy? Or did his earlier state of pain just now catch up to him?
"Very well." The woman replied, standing up, walking to the right, out of his field of view. He heard the sound of shuffling cloth, before she came back with an old-looking gourd in hand. Offering it to him, the man greedily took it whole, and opening the top, fully intending to dunk the full contents of the flask in his throat, he drank. Then promptly began to choke on the water, forcing him to slow down to a more reasonable pace. His female companion, meanwhile, looked at him as she always had.
Fearfully.
More for him than her, mind you. While Seam wasn't all that intimidating, he certainly was a great danger to himself, a fact made abundantly clear everyday. As a Mamono, pleasuring men was her only vocation, and seeing a man in such a state was just... Sad. A lesser monster than her wouldn't have cared, and would've jumped this poor soul the moment he made the mistake of wandering into her camp, but for some reason, she found herself not wanting to. She felt less actual attraction to the man than she did pity. It was a strange feeling...
Besides, she fancied herself a seductress. Rape was much too crass for her tastes.
Until the men said no, of course. By then, all bets were off.
By that point, Seam had finished the whole flask. While he still felt awful, the water mitigated it somewhat. Thanks, placebo effect! His gaze focused on her again, and his breathing settled into a more comfortable rhythm. Handing the gourd back to her, which the fox lady was a bit hesitant to take back, the man decided to try and be a bit more civil from now on. He'd probably scared the bujeezus out of her, another thing to add to his long, ever-increasing list of fuck-ups, and considering that woman had most likely saved his life, he owed her at least an explanation. A hushed, yet genuine "thank you" was granted, and allowing herself a slight smile, the lady nodded.
"Do you feel better yet, human?" She asked him. Were he in a clearer state of mind, Seam would've questioned the usage of that word, "human", but he wasn't, so that's that.
"My body feels like it's been, fuckin'... took a dive into a wood chipper or something..." He responded, attempting to brush off the leftover mud on his face with the sleeves of his coat. It wasn't working. "I'm a soggy fucking biscuit... Covered in dirt n' shit... But yeah, I, uh, I do feel better. So thanks for that. Again. Miss...?"
"Hina." She answered his implied question. "You may call me Hina."
"Seam." The man replied, extending a hand forward. "I'd say it's a, uh, pleasure to meet you, but... Yeah."
Hina took that offered hand and shook it, something the man returned, along with her smile. "What..." She began, hesitant as to how she could word it. "What has happened to you, Seam sir? You look..." Don't say it. "...Tired?"
"I look like a fucking corpse..." He replied. "Don't... Don't sugarcoat it for my sake, ma'a- I mean Hina. Today's been... Pretty fuckin' weird..." He groaned, looking up and closing his eyes, head resting against the wood behind him. "Where... The fuck even am I?"
"I believe we are currently in Hardwood Forest, nearing Red Dew Village." The woman helpfully replied. "Lescastie is an eight days walk south from there, I reckon."
"What." Seam meanly said in return. "What the fuck are those names." It wasn't even worded as a question, more a statement. "I don't... Chicago? Where's Chicago?"
"I... Am not familiar with that name, I'm afraid." She replied, walking closer and sitting herself next to him. "Is that a port, Seam sir? Are you a sailor?" That would certainly explain the colorful language, maybe even the weird clothing.
"Wh- no, no, it..." He fumbled, not having expected that reply. Who doesn't know what Chicago is? "Y'know, that city with all the actors in it and stuff? Besides Hollywood, I mean! In America? The US?"
"Forgive me, Seam sir, but these words mean nothing to me." Hina replied, driving a stake through whatever hope he had left. "Are you sure you've not hit your head? You speak of places that, as far as I know, do not exist, with startling familiarity. I fear you may have lost your mind..."
"Hey, listen." He said with a frown. "I know I look like a fucking cryptid right now, but I swear to God, I'm not crazy. I'm not!" He looked at her, beside him, eyes wide and gesturing frantically. "The only crazy thing is what I'm fucking going through! I was just eating a goddamn kebab, last I remember, do you think I asked for any of this?!" Following that statement, the man pulled the half-eaten sandwich out of his pocket, still wrapped in both paper and plastic. It had gotten cold by now, but thankfully experienced no leaks. "Here, proof!"
The object was completely alien to her.
She refused to touch it.
"That... I can do fine without, thank you." She politely declined. "This matters little, regardless. Whether you speak the truth or not, the fact remains you appear to be quite... Troubled, I suppose." Hina observed, just in case it wasn't obvious enough. "Are you angry, Seam sir? At my remarks perhaps?" She asked.
"No, no! Hell no! I'm just-... Ugh!" The man dropped his head down in desperation. "I'm not angry, you saved my fuckin' life, for God's sake... It's just..." He paused, trying to find the right words for a moment. But he couldn't, so he just spoke what was on his mind. "I'm lost, I'm sore, and I'm tired as hell... I just... Wanna go home..."
At those words, her already soft vise softened even more. We are reaching levels of softness that shouldn't be scientifically possible here, someone fucking stop these two already. Having hailed from Zipangu, Hina could understand feelings of homesickness. She'd experienced them often, and she had left her homeland of her own volition. Seam, on the other hand, it sounded like, was unceremoniously plucked from this "Chicken-go" he talked about, and flung into the forest without as much as an explanation. She could sympathize with his plight.
"That may be so... Why, I've an idea!" The woman offered. "Why don't you stay the night? Perhaps I may not be able to help you return home, but... I can at least grant you a place to rest."
"Oh no, no, I wouldn't want to impose..." Seam replied, already making to get up. He was leeching off of her generosity, and he damn well knew it. No matter how tired he was, and no matter how much he enjoyed the sight, the thought becoming even more of a parasite than he already was made him sick to his stomach. "I drank all your water already, I don't wa-"
"Oh, but I insist." The Youko interrupted him, draping an arm around the man's shoulders, keeping him close. "Please, do stay the night. I would enjoy the company, very much so...~" That last part was said in a sultry tone, as she practically hugged the man to her chest. Seam could feel himself flush and become redder than a taki (I am, to this day, still waiting for him to tell me what those are), a deep crimson blush all across his features. Her breasts were pressing against his left side, keeping his arm in a tight, yet soft embrace.
Error: does not compute.
"E-erhm, well- I- You... Ahem! I, uhhhhh- I don't. Wait. I- Wh-what...?" The man sputtered, beyond flustered, unable to form a single coherent sentence to save his life.
"Oh, you've heard me, Seam...~" The teasing she-fox continued. "Unless you want me to show you instead?~" As she started to rub herself against him, Seam practically shriveled up like a dry pickle. He was getting under the impression his baggy jeans weren't so baggy anymore...
"I-I need an a-adult..." The dumbass meekly replied, a weak, squeaky rebuttal against this beautiful goddess. As a virgin, he didn't do well with stunningly beautiful women trying to get in his pants! He was an ugly piece of shit (his words, not mine), that never happened before!
And then she burst out laughing. Not just a laugh, a roar. She was roaring with laughter.
His dignity, like an average London resident, was stabbed clean through the chest and left to bleed out on the sidewalk.
"Oh, my apologies, dear Seam sir!" Hina explained, wiping a gleeful tear from her eye. "Why, the set-up was perfect, I simply could not help myself!" Those cruel giggles dug deep into his soul, leaving scars no amount of therapy would ever heal.
"I want to die..." The man muttered, going unheard by the boisterous vulpine.
...
Okay, maybe it wasn't THAT dramatic, but I like to pretend it is.
"I jest, I jest..." the woman said, amused giggling quieting down, going back to her usual self. "I was, however, quite serious about my offer from before. I would enjoy for you to rest here with me."
"I... You..." It's fine Seam, take your time. The man let out a tired sigh.
He had been beaten.
"Okay, fine... I could r-really use the sleep..." He replied, before remembering one simple fact. "But- But it's n-nearly morning though..."
"That is of no concern, Seam sir." Hina assured him, getting up, taking a hold of the man. "I am by no means in a hurry to move." Yes, she was carrying him bridal style. No, he was not complaining. At that point, he was much too vexed, and much too tired to do so. It felt kinda nice...
Laying him down into what he assumed was a small tent (how the hell did he miss that before?), Hina took off the man's jacket, and carefully tucked him in a sleeping bag like a pampered fucking child. "Rest", she told him, with such sweetness that he simply could not refuse. Especially not being a half-awake, half-dead shell of his former self.
Hina was a complete stranger, and yet, at this moment, he felt as if he could trust her with the secrets of the universe itself. Right then and there, was probably the best sleep he would ever get in the coming days, and Seam would be sure to enjoy it to its fullest. One last "thank you" was uttered before the man's eyes closed, and he let Morpheus take him.
Seam knew true peace.
The same couldn't be said for everyone, though.
You see, dear reader, unlike him, outside, the Youko was actually quite disturbed. She had her suspicions before, but she just chalked it up to coincidence, something she now realized was very wrong. That human, that "Seam", had no smell. Well, that wasn't entirely true, really, he did smell like mud and sweat upon arriving here, but that's not what she meant. No, what she had discovered was far more alarming than a mere lack of corporeal hygiene.
He appeared soulless.
By which she means, there wasn't any spiritual energy she could detect on that man. Not even a lick of it she could latch onto. Peering into the human's soul as she held him, hoping to get a feel for what might have been her future husband, all she was met with was a black, hungry, hollow void. It scared her. Terrified her, even. How could someone live without spiritual energy? without a soul of their own? He was unnatural, abnormal, an abomination. No wonder she didn't sense his arrival before, allowing him to take her by surprise when he unexpectedly came rushing down the road (or whatever it was he had been doing), there was nothing to detect in there. But how could that be? Seam should, by all accounts, be dead, and yet...
He wasn't.
He wasn't even a husk. Or if he was, he hid it pretty damn well. But she didn't think so. You couldn't simulate the level of emotional depth he'd managed to show in that short interaction between them. He looked, he sounded so... So genuine. She had a hard time believing all he'd done up to this point, and through her halfhearted attempt at seduction, had been a front. However, that small, treacherous, infinitely improbable odd that she may just have welcomed a creature of calamity into her abode kept gnawing at her, in the back of her mind. What if she was wrong? How could she even find out? Looking for an answer, her eyes fell upon one particular item she'd taken off the man's shoulders, neatly folded next to the tent's now closed opening.
A dark jacket, of a strange make and fabric.
Gears were turning in her head. Of course, the jacket! With Seam now fast asleep, the man's snores heard through the woven fabric of the tent, she could go about and do as she wished. Mainly, go through his stuff in an attempt to figure out who she's been dealing with. But was that truly the right thing to do? Did she have a right to peer into his personal life uninvited, just like that?
Did she care? Keep in mind that, while she hadn't exactly been vocal about her intentions, she originally planned to rape the guy in his sleep.
Without further ado, she dug in, very mindful to put away that weird "keh-baab" thing Seam showed her. She didn't trust it.
The first thing she found in there was a strange, black rectangle, shaped like a tarot card, only much thicker. There were those weird buttons on the side that made the face light up all kinds of colors when pressed, she had absolutely no idea what it was. And after toying with it for about five minutes, she put it away, figuring this wasn't what she was looking for. It was probably just a magic vanity anyway, a lot of rich people seemed very fond of those. It was attached to these weird black string thingies, too, but she paid those no mind.
The next item she liberated from the confines of the coat was a small, metal object, that fit neatly into her hand. Shaped like a small box, with noticeably rounder edges than normal. Simple geometrical engravings decorated both sides of the silver-like box, much too straight, much too perfect to have been done by hand. There was a visible joint on one side, and when she tilted it, she discovered the contraption could actually open. It was never even closed in the first place, or if it had been, the lock had broken a while ago. A small metal pipe and a spiky wheel were inside, but no matter what she did, she couldn't figure out what to do with the both of them. All she managed to was make a weird smell she didn't like. To the discard pile it goes.
The last of the things she pulled out was, in appearance, the least alien possession of his so far. It was a small, square-shaped package of dark leather, or something close to it, held shut by a button on its side. Fueled by curiosity unending, her hands made that button come undone, and truth unfolded itself before her.
Literally.
He had one of those long folding wallets you sorta rolled up in a bundle, y'know?
Cards, pictures, colored papers with numbers on them, a few coins she'd never seen before. The first one of the bunch to catch her eye was the strange, light blue card put in front. Mainly because it had Seam's face on it. Upon releasing it from its cloth prison, she was able to see a whole array of interesting information about her newest acquaintance. Most importantly, however, were the three words relatively center of the document.
"SEAM MACKENZIE WILLIAMS"
Most humans bore two different names, with the oddity of nobles sometimes having one or two more, alongside maybe a title. Was Seam nobility? He sure didn't look or sound like it... No, probably not. It was more likely he just happened to have three. Maybe as a strange custom of this homeland of his. She noted, absentmindedly, the weird pronunciation of his name.
Speaking of, she now knew it was actually spelled "Chicago", and not whatever her botched up version had been beforehand. Another tidbit of trivia about that enigma of a man. Well, enigma would be a stretch, truth be told. He was more like a puzzle to her. A puzzle that did wonders for her boredom.
Away from the other papers, which contained more words that made her head hurt trying to process the meaning of, were a couple of pictures she noticed only now. Her eyes widened in surprise. They were drawn so well, so realistically, that they didn't even look like drawings, not at all... She could tell, looking at them, that they were perfect replicas of whatever they represented. She inspected the first one in greater detail, holding that small paper thing with care.
There were four people there, all humans. Three men and one woman. Judging by their body language and the picture itself, they seemed to know each other well. She recognized Seam, albeit a bit younger, sat at a bar next to the two other boys. One of which had an arm around his shoulder, hand grabbing his side in what she assumed to be a rough display of affection. Seam seemed ashamed of it, but there was no mistaking the warm, amused smile he was trying to hide behind his hand.
A great contrast to him was the aforementioned shoulder-holder, who was actually standing up, one foot on the barstool he was supposed to sit on, trying to make an imitation, a sorry excuse for a heroic poise, brown bottle held in the other hand, raised upwards like a sword. He was looking right at her, laughing, drunk on joy, having the time of his life. A relative, probably, maybe even a brother. The two sure looked close though, despite all their apparent differences.
The other two in the frame were sat close together, and were so obviously a couple it would take a blind person not to notice. They were huddled together in a tender embrace, and squinting her eyes, she could spot the rings on their fingers, hands clasped around their own two bottles. The man was just smiling, no, beaming, eyes closed, a dumb, happy expression on his face. Meanwhile, the girl was laughing at what may just have been the funniest joke in the world. She was looking in the general direction of Seam and his brother, so Hina figured their antics must've been just that hilarious. Turning the picture over, she noticed the words written on the back.
"Wish you were here, dad! - Signed Mark, Seam, big Jimmy"
She looked the whole thing over again, and again. This image, this single picture, it reeked of life. Of home. Family. Her fingers ran along the paper in a tender caress, cradling it like a newborn child. There were other pictures in there, but she didn't have the heart to look at them. She felt as if she had peered into something secret, taboo, intimately personal, something she was never supposed to see. This single piece of paper held far more intimacy, far more bare, naked truth than intercourse ever could, far more love. Her fears about Seam's nature and motivations were put to rest. Yes, it appears the man truly had a soul.
She was holding it, raw, pure, in her hands. Her stained, sinful, filthy hands.
She didn't dare shed a tear as she carefully packed the whole thing together neatly once more, extremely careful as to settle each and every item the exact way they were before her incursion. Her thoughts went to the man currently occupying her bedroll. She didn't feel bad at the invasion of privacy, no, she saw it as a necessity more than anything else. She didn't know what she felt. But she knew that, with or without spiritual energy, Seam wasn't someone she could force herself onto. Not after... Whatever the fuck this all was. She thought she'd cheated him, learned far too much, far too fast.
She might've been a Mamono, and sex might've been in her very nature, but she was still a person, above all. She had these annoying things called emotions that did all sorts of weird, inexplicable stuff all the time, although they were often reigned by lust when they got too rowdy. She remembered her own history, much of the same, back where she came from, back in the land she had abandoned. Heaving a sigh that bore the weight of the world behind it, Hina laid on her back, in the grass, arms crossed behind her head.
She had a lot to think about...
[ {} I-._.-I {} ]
As these events played out, another presence simmered, deeper within the foliage, hidden away. So close, yet so far. Anger, frustration, an unhealthy amount of libido... She had been so close. She had been so, so close to finally having a husband of her own. The werewolf was mad. Actually, scratch that, she was livid. The human was hers! Her right! She'd seen him first! Her plan had been perfectly hatched: Wait until the lost little human exhausts himself, drag his unconscious body into her cave, nurse him back to health and become his wife forever! It was the best plan ever, no more would a would-be-husband run away from her! She had been preparing herself, already wet and slick, in sheer anticipation for the wild, raw nights of mating that would've followed their blissful union.
And then that foxy bitch came along.
And then all her plans went to shit.
Why, when she saw that filthy animal dare flirt with HER husband, she had to physically restrain herself, lest she leaped into there and bit both their throats out!
No, not both. She could never harm her dear husband.
She shook her head, settling her husky breath, laying low. All was not lost, though. For a reason she didn't understand, the fox hadn't made her move on him yet, and judging by her actions, she wasn't planning to. Great news, she thought! Perhaps she was favored by luck today. Oh, the thoughts of everything she'd do to that human when she got her paws on him... They were enough to nearly send her over the edge.
Again.
Yep, she was that desperate. The trail of white, crystal fluid that followed her every move, tainting the ground she walked on, was a pretty big giveaway...
Red flags kids, look out for those. Don't stick your dick in crazy, you'll thank me later.
Yes, she thought, she was right. She was a smart lady, smarter than any of her packs had been, combined. If there was a Mamono who could get herself a husband while confined this deep into the woods, it was her. She let out a quiet laugh, that then turned into a giggle. Her hair stood on end, furry legs rubbing against each other in an attempt to ease the intense heat of that inferno within her loins. It was a fact, a truth, she knew. That man, That "Seam" would be hers, sooner or later.
Whether he liked it or not.
But it's okay if he didn't.
She'll just have to make him.
[ {} I-._.-I {} ]
Woo, holy shit, that was WAY, WAY longer than I thought it would be XD. That's good! That means I'm actually improving, so cheers for that! Hopefully I am too in the flow department, but I like to think I've done a passable job of stringing together these events in a loosely coherent way. Thank you for reading this far, I'm happy my work is being consumed by fellow internet degenerates! Stay strong people, Noodle out.
P.S: Do not expect an upload schedule, I will probably come back to this once every blue moon lmao, this chapter took a lot out of me already.
P.P.S: If any of you are interested in being an unpaid intern I bitch and yell at every day of the week, please do hit me up, I'm in dire need of beta readers! Or don't! (I will find you.)
P.P.P.S: 10K WORDS LESSS GOOOOOOO!
P.P.P.P.S: Please inform me of any mistakes I have made with the setting, should they come up. It's been a while since I've read MGE lore XD.