The New World
Copyright© 2024 by Dark Apostle
Chapter 20: Who Says You Can Never Go Home Again
Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 20: Who Says You Can Never Go Home Again - The story follows James Smith, a man who dies and finds himself in a surreal afterlife courtroom, where his life is judged as "zero sum"—neither good nor evil, just utterly average. Dissatisfied with being consigned to eternal mediocrity, he manipulates the cosmic bureaucracy into granting him a second chance in a new world, where he is reincarnated as a child with his memories intact and perks... - edited by my lovely Steven.
Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Mult Coercion NonConsensual Reluctant Slavery Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fan Fiction Farming High Fantasy Rags To Riches Restart Alternate History DoOver Extra Sensory Perception Body Swap Furry Magic Incest Mother Sister Politics Royalty Violence AI Generated
The next morning, James woke next to Anna. Anna sat up, “Did you get any sleep? Every time I looked, you were tossing and turning.”
“Not really, it’s hard to realize that you have betrayed your upbringing and become the thing you despise.”
Sitting on the bed with her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees, she said, “One thing I have learned running a brothel is you cannot go back. All you can do is accept the past is the past and try and do better going forward. So what are you going to do?”
“I apologized to everyone. That should be enough. I will be kinder from now on.”
“No James, words are cheap. You need to back up the words with actions. Half the girls here are because they believed their boyfriends. They were told that they were loved and should trust their man. Then he disappeared and they had nothing to fall back on except their back. At least I give them a bed.”
“Anna, I don’t know what to do. The last time I was free from the spell, I was eight years old.” “You are an adult now. Show it. What do you think they want from you?”
James stood up and started pacing in the room. He thought back to the first world and what was expected there. Anna watched him pace. She knew that he would cling to any suggestions she made and this had to come from him.
Finally, James turned to her. “I need to show them respect. Even though the magic makes them slaves, I can’t be an asshole anymore. Get dressed, I know what I am going to do.”
At the breakfast table, James called the slaves together.
“Thank you for listening to me yesterday. Today, I am going to buy you all clothes. From now on, you will be dressed both inside and when you are in the market.
No one will touch you, including me, without your consent. I can’t release you, as you do not have the skills and training needed to survive in Isekai. But Anna will have each of you trained to work in the tavern. I need cooks, servers, and cleaners. All of which are honorable jobs and will be paid.”
The women all started talking among themselves. James stood there with folded arms, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent him from interrupting. When the buzz settled down, he turned to Anna, “Anna, can you arrange for everyone to have two outfits and shoes? I will pay for everything.”
Looking at the women, “Until then, I want everyone to take a bath and get cleaned up. You can wear towels until the clothes are here. The tavern won’t be open for at least a month, so there is time to learn.”
“James, I will call a couple of tailors faster than Maddoc. I could see about some readymade shifts for everyone.”
“Thank you. And if anyone needs something, let me know.”
Christine approached James, “Can we talk?”
“Yes, but take a bath and clean up first. I hurt you and am trying to make amends. You will be more comfortable after a bath.”
“No, it is more important that we talk.”
“Alright, mother, let’s go to the patio. We won’t be disturbed.”
He offered his arm to Christine and they walked to a bench in the brothel’s courtyard. “Go ahead, I am ready to listen.”
Christine looked at him and slapped him across the face. “I am your mother! How could you treat me so? What did I do to you to deserve this?”
James was shocked and rubbed his face in disbelief. He was not expecting this when she asked to talk. But inside, he felt different. Before the spell was removed, he would have attacked her. Now, he was calmer and more thoughtful.
“Mother, in my first life, I had a crush on you. Jackie, too, if you must know. When I was given a second chance, I thought that I should give you a second chance too. I had an ulterior motive; perhaps I could move from an unrequited crush to actually trying something. I never expected you to be a slave or that I would be a cruel, unfeeling bastard.”
“So you wanted to have sex with your mother? I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”
“Either one. Under the spell, I basically raped you. That wasn’t my plan or dream. But Anna has convinced me that the past is the past, and I need to be better from now on. It occurs to me that no one in the city will trust me if I continue down the path I was on.”
“What do you want me to do, James? You are right, the things I did on earth are useless here. I relied on electricity for everything.”
“Mother, I don’t know. Why don’t you train to be a hostess and eventually a manager? There is always a need for adults at a bar. Some people can’t handle their cups, and having someone watch out for problems would be great.”
After walking his mother back into the brothel, James lounged on the low stone wall outside the half-rebuilt tavern, legs sprawled wide, letting the late-autumn sun soak into his bare chest. The air carried a crisp bite now; summer was finally bleeding out. Good.
A familiar presence rippled at the edge of his Area Scan—huge, ancient, and trying (badly) to sneak up on him like a six-hundred-pound puppy playing hide-and-seek behind a tree that wasn’t there.
James smirked without opening his eyes.
“You know I can sense you.”
A low, rumbling chuckle rolled across the yard like distant thunder. “I am not sneaking.”
Fel abandoned subtlety and lumbered into view, all silver fur and rippling muscle, before flopping down beside him with the lazy grace of a housecat—if that housecat weighed as much as a wagon and could bite a dragon in half. The ground trembled when six hundred pounds of ancient Fenrir decided to play puppy.
“Sure.”
James groaned, shifting to ease the ache in his sack. “I am curious about something,” Fel rumbled, voice like grinding stone. “How are you handling the removal of the spell?”
“It has been a huge change. I now have to be nice to people. In my first life, I just drifted through life, never really getting to know people or make friends. So I don’t have the skills or experience to build on. Anna tells me to show rather than just talk, but I don’t know if what I am doing is the right thing.”
Fel snorted. “With my people, we see each other so little that a slight is forgotten before the next meeting. You humans do more in the few years of life that you have then Fenrirs do in centuries. You are asking the wrong creature for guidance.”
“I can’t ask Subotai either. He’s as much a loaner as I am.”
“Have you considered going to visit the farm and ask for help from them? From what you have told me, they have a lot experience getting along with people. They might be able to help.”
He turned sideways, one brow raised. “Oh?”
Fel’s muzzle split in a wolfish grin, fangs glinting. “It has been remarked—repeatedly—that you should go home.”
“Ouch.”
“Now that you are out from under the spell, it is safe to take you home. Subotai told me not to push you to go there. But his reason is now gone.”
“You think I would let you off so easily?” The Fenrir’s tongue lolled in amusement. “No. The serpentine steak you cooked the other day was divine.”
James snorted. “Oh.”
“Indeed.” Fel’s glowing eyes narrowed. “But you still need to wrap up business at home. Collect your slimes. Say your goodbyes—or hellos—then come back.”
James exhaled, long and slow. “Yeah.”
“If you are reluctant, I will approach them myself.”
He couldn’t help it—he giggled at the image: Fel padding up to the old farmstead, tail wagging like some overgrown hound, politely dipping his massive head to Garrick and Marta, asking in that deep, rumbling voice if their long-lost son might borrow the slime collection before vanishing to build an empire. Garrick would clutch his chest and drop dead on the spot. Marta would scream once, tits bouncing from the shock, then keel over right beside him. Their heart attacks would be instantaneous
God. What a dilemma. Garrick and Marta might be able to help, but would they accept him? And if they knew what he had done, would they shun him?
“Fine,” he said after a a few minutes of contemplation. “But it’s probably best if I go alone.”
Fel tilted his massive head. “Why not take some of the women with you?”
James laughed, the sound rough. “It’s a long haul, and I’ll run most of it. Only you and Subotai could really keep up with me.”
“I slow down for no one,” Fel rumbled, “but I must admit, for a human, you run fast.”
“All those years pushing the wheel.”
Fel’s silver eyes gleamed. “I had noticed. You working on a new design?”
James nodded, already picturing it. “If I don’t keep the work up, my body will soften. I’ve been talking to the carpenter about recreating the wheel, bigger, heavier, no lashes, of course.”
“What would it be used for, other than keeping those ridiculous muscles?”
“The same thing the original was used for,” James said, grinning. “Grinding wheat to make bread.”
Fel’s ears pricked. “Oh?” He snorted, long tongue swiping across his muzzle. “Interesting. Would you use it to make bread? I find the smell divine.”
James’s smile widened, lazy and wicked. “Maybe. Fresh loaves every morning, crust crackling, steam rising ... and all of it powered by me walking in circles like the old days. Only this time, I’m the one who gets to enjoy the results.” He stretched, feeling the deep pull in his shoulders, the sweet burn of anticipation. “We’ll see.”
James pushed off the wall and scratched behind Fel’s ear. The Fenrir let out a shameless, rumbling groan of bliss, leaned his full weight into the touch like an overgrown hound, then padded after him with lazy, rolling strides.
By now, the city had grown used to the silver monster moving through alleys and markets. Fel had spent weeks prowling every gutter, rooftop, and sewer grate, mapping the whole sprawl in his head. Because of the shared bond, every scent, every heartbeat, every hidden crawlspace now lived in James’s mind too (thousands of glowing threads he’d untangle later as time permitted).
They stepped into the brothel’s smoky warmth. Subotai lounged at the bar, boots on a stool, tankard in hand. Fel circled twice in the courtyard hay, collapsed with a contented whuff, and started snoring loud enough to rattle glass.
“There he is,” Subotai said, grin sharp as a dagger. He lifted a thick parchment scroll sealed with black wax, rolling it lazily between his fingers like a gambler showing a winning card. The wax bore no crest James recognized, but the parchment itself looked old, with edges singed, ink faded to a rust color.
James’s stomach tightened. Whatever was written on that scroll was worth killing for. Or dying over.
“What’s that?” he asked, voice calm, already tasting copper on his tongue.
“Information.”