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I Was a College Professor Reincarnated as a Wolf King?!

Chapter 2

By StripedKittyScribe

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Trevor Gates was just an old college professor that was facing retirement down with a scowl. When he's unexpectedly killed, otherworldly beings take his soul and bring it into a new world so that he can end centuries of stagnation. Unfortunately for him, this involves not just a new culture, but a new species, and not all of the aspects of either sit well with him.

This story will contain sexual acts, including dubious/non-consentual, homosexual, and themes of domination/submission, as well as violence and death. The medieval world that Trevor finds himself in is not kind in many respects. If you are not of legal age to consume adult material, do not proceed.

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Sir Javeth: Javeth Point Keep, Bedchambers

Sir Javeth hauled back, his fist knotted in the bitch's hair, making her yelp in pain while he mounted her. He expected that he wouldn't be home for the next two days, and it would not do for him to go without. So he had made quick work of his duties, then gone back to his chambers, thrown his wife over the bed, and started reminding her of his claim on her.

He didn't particularly care if she liked what he was doing, though somewhere deep down, he expected that she did. Why else would she have given him so many strong pups? Perhaps this one would be another. True, his children were all still young, but that hardly mattered. Doubtless some wouldn't survive. It was the way of the world. The only thing that mattered was beating those odds, by shaving the dice in your favor. Which in this case, meant breeding this bitch as often as possible.

He felt her struggling, and licked his lips. She was playing with him, demonstrating her lack of power, and his strength by 'trying' to break free. He knew the truth. He felt her cunt squeezing him as he snarled in her ear, snapping his teeth, biting her scruff as he did his best to rut her through the mattress. "That's it. So eager to birth another one," he growled into her ear as he spanked her broad ass, just to hear the impact and watch the ripple.

She sobbed, and it was that moment that pushed him over the edge. That first shudder through her tripped the shudder through him, and he groaned in release as drove his knot into her and flooded her. Yes. This one would absolutely give him a child. He wasn't sure how, but he knew it.

Someone knocked at the door, and opened it just far enough to call in, "My Lord, you asked to know the moment that something had been spotted that was odd. Lookouts report a fire of great size in Distal Bend."

That put him in a foul mood, and any glow of pleasure from breeding left him. "How certain are they that it is Distal Bend?"

The guard coughed, and said, "Almost certain, m'lord. Too far east to be Long Fields, too far south to be Fisher's Port. It could be a raider group. Too early to be the spring festival."

Sir Javeth rolled his eyes and said, "No one raids a village in spring, fool, there's no food to be had. And by the gods, get in here, I'm going to get a twinge in my neck from talking over my shoulder at you."

The soldier pushed the door open just a bit more, and kept his eyes down as he stepped barely into the room. "I didn't wish to disturb you during your sacred time, m'lord."

That put a fire in Sir Javeth's eye, and he growled, "Are you telling me that this information didn't come instantly to me? Which is more sacred, my wife or my orders?"

"Orders, m'lord! This isn't old, I just got it from the runner, and came straight here."

That calmed some of Javeth's rage. But not all, not even by half. He couldn't lose Distal Bend, they had that bitch who knew how to make the best archers in the Duchy! "Put my armor on me," he demanded, and held his hands out to the side as the soldier quickly pulled his dressing shirt off, threw on the gambeson, then the armored shirt. The leather needed to be laced up in the back, and that was all the time that he could give his wife. Bracing his hands on the back of her thighs, he shoved her forward, tearing out of her and making her yelp.

"Apologies, wife," he said as he turned and moved toward the table, quickly running a wet linen over his shaft to clean it and then pull it back into the sheath. "You've done your duty. Now I must do mine." He stepped into the hated pants, bouncing on his toes a few times to get it set in place properly while the soldier cinched it tight and tied it off over his tail. He had to adjust the armored shirt, and then held his arms out for his sword belt. Once it was around his hips, he cinched it tight and started making his way to the stables.

Trevor; Distal Bend, Adjacent Forest

When they set out toward the village, Trevor didn't need directions. At first he panicked because there was a large plume of smoke, but when he looked closer at it, it was too small to be a house fire. A bonfire, then. That made sense. There was supposed to be a celebration. Trevor could smell roasting meats, and cooking food, and he put a hand to his stomach. He had been so focused on learning that he hadn't thought about how hungry he suddenly was. He paused, wincing as his stomach growled.

Timber Hauler chuckled, and kept walking. "I expect that you're going to need to eat quite often, my Lord. Big man like you could probably put enough away that you're going to be glad nobles get first pick." He held his hand up, "Don't say it. You've whined often enough today about your privilege not being right, but it is our way, and I have every confidence that you will not abuse it and get fat emptying our larders."

Timber Hauler had kept moving while Trevor had stopped, and as he passed, Trevor saw that Timber Hauler had pulled his shirt off and was scratching at his chest. Trevor opened his mouth to ask if that wasn't something that could be done through the material, but then saw Timber Hauler pulling the ties at his skirt as well. He stooped down, leaning against a tree to slip it off of his sandaled feet, and then looked back at Trevor. "Well? It's a feast and a party. Aren't you going to get ready?"

Trevor looked at the now-nude other wolf, and sighed. "Everyone's going to be naked, aren't they."

Timber Hauler nodded. "Clothes are expensive to make, and are for protection and convenience while working. Why, how do you outsiders celebrate at feasts?"

Trevor started working his shirt off over his head. "Usually, my culture put on more clothes with fancier bits. I'm going to miss grrrr. I liked dressing up." He was starting to understand the occasional time when his vocabulary didn't work right. If there wasn't a concept or if the word was too specific, he just produced garbled noise. There wasn't anything like a 'necktie' here. And while the 'by Jove' comment could probably have translated easily enough as 'by god', he'd named a specific god that no one knew.

Timber Hauler shook his head. "No fur. No muzzle. More clothes. Your people must have been crazy."

Trevor looked down at his waist, and after hesitation reached for the knot over his tail. "We almost certainly were. Now. Before we go, I have something to ask you, and as your lord, I will have you skinned alive if you ever tell anyone that I asked this."

Timber Hauler gulped, and then said, "My word, of course. Not a soul."

Trevor motioned toward his own crotch. "Tell me how to piss with this damn thing?"

River Blossom; Distal Bend Village Square

"I can't believe he just... marked you like that!"

River Blossom giggled, "I know! He said 'please' and I was just trying to get him between my legs and he just burst! Like a bit of pottery being dropped! It went everywhere!"

All of those who would be serving the meal tonight were gathering and preparing, and every last one of them giggled or laughed.

Autumn Leaf was working a flower into her hair over her ear, and then adjusting how it hung, brushing with her fingers. She bumped River Blossom with her hips and gave a lecherous grin. "Well? We all saw what he did to you... what about what he did it with?" The woman had gathered in one section, and the men in another. Each was making themselves as presentable as possible. River Blossom actually blushed, and held her hands apart, making everyone who could see it titter and bounce with excitement and happiness for their friend. "He won't be giving you anything less than a hand of pups each time with that," someone joked, and Autumn Leaf gave a little growl.

"Well if I don't get..."

The group of girls all chorused, "Another pup from your husband tonight you'll throw him out until he does!" They all laughed again, and Autumn Leaf turned River Blossom's shoulders to start braiding her hair. "How excited are you?" River Blossom's tail couldn't keep still. "I don't know if I can keep from pouncing on him after the first tray is set down. Did I tell you what he said to me?"

That got the attention of everyone, including a couple of the men who were closer to the women's group. The stream of 'no' and 'tell us' and 'when did he say it' and 'what did he say' were almost so fast that no one understood anything until Autumn Leaf said, "Let her have her say!"

"He told me that he wasn't just old enough to be my father," which got the expected gasps from everyone. "He said that he was old enough," she held her hand up and ticked them off, "to be my," she started there, "father's, father's, father." That got some slack jawed stares from some of the men, and absolute squeals of delight from everyone around her, bouncing on their toes and congratulating her for her luck!

Everyone knew that age was a sign of power, of skill, and knowledge, and cunning. Even those who were feeble with old age were known to be crafty, wise, and even if they couldn't still fight, they knew how to solve problems before fights would happen.

Someone started counting on her fingers, and then gasped, "How old would that make him? Surely not a box?" Everyone laughed at the silly idea that someone could even be alive after 256 years. "At least a stroke," someone named the mark for 64. "You're a tick and two?"

"A tick and three," she said, indicating 19.

The same girl started flicking her fingers around. "So your father would be at least 37, his would be 55, his would be 73, and HIS would be 91." That sobered everyone up for a moment.

"The gods must truly be powerful," Autumn Leaf whispered. "He doesn't look a day over two ticks."

"The gods must have awesome vision and reach to find a race that could live to be a stroke and a half years. Even Elder Net Weaver is only 63 this summer, and she's the oldest among us."

"They're coming out of the forest," someone called, and River Blossom almost bolted to greet her Master, but yelped when Autumn Leaf tugged her back by her hair. "I'm not done yet!"

"Well hurry!"

The sheriff's wife tugged again, and said, "If you want it done right where it doesn't come free while he's on top of you, you'll hold still."

"I don't care if it does," River Blossom whined, but she stood there.

"One moment. And done." Autumn Leaf turned River Blossom to face her and said, "I tied it off with the ribbon that I wore for Timber Hauler the first night that I served for him. For luck."

The two embraced, and River Blossom's hips couldn't keep still from how much her tail was swaying around. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know. But I'm going to be far too busy with my husband to care. Now let's go make sure that the men don't get all the choicest meats for their wives!"

Trevor; Distal Bend, Village Square

Something like a maypole had been erected in the center of the town, and there were tables set about, facing the fire. For just a moment, Trevor was impressed at the sheer scale of it, but then he remembered that these people built large wooden structures frequently. Putting something like that together that wasn't permanent was a waste of timber, but hardly challenging if it wasn't meant to stay forever.

Smaller fires were set out, with some sort of game beast on the spits, roasting away with children turning the spit. Most of the town was naked, and for some reason, Trevor wasn't instantly aroused. He hadn't really known what to expect, especially given the intense reaction that he got from River Blossom.

Even when Timber Hauler's wife came up and leapt into his arms for an enthusiastic display, Trevor didn't get turned on, though Timber Hauler certainly did. Autumn Leaf was as old as River Blossom, give or take, and she certainly didn't seem to mind that her husband was well older. She actually bit his ear in an excess of playful teasing, pulling his face down into her chest while laughing and pushing her breasts around his face. Trevor didn't really 'stare', they were breasts. He knew what they were for, at least biologically. The way that Timber Hauler retaliated by spanking her, and then turning her around and biting at the back of her neck nearly sent the younger woman into bliss. That did get a stare. Timber Hauler growled something to her, and then swatted her on the butt once more, sending her off. Both of them were breathing hard, and there it was. The saunter off, hips rolling, tail flicked up, and Timber Hauler's erection.

Trevor coughed. "How do you manage to keep up with her?"

The older man laughed. "I don't. She climbs into my bed every night, and I don't get a wink of sleep. I'm an old man, I can barely keep up with what the village needs, and then that crazy bitch tries to get me to give her more pups." Still, his tail was wagging happily, and it was clear to anyone that for all of his complaints, Timber Hauler adored his wife.

Timber Hauler continued the small tour, introducing Trevor to the various people of importance. There weren't that many. What shocked Trevor was that the lumberjack, aptly named Timber Bringer, was Timber Hauler's son. Trevor wasn't quite good enough to gauge relative ages, but he would be willing to bet that Autumn Leaf was younger than Timber Bringer. Trevor decided not to ask about that, at least not yet. He still had too much to learn about this place, and the socioeconomic subtleties weren't as high on the list as technology. Or food.

The next person to be introduced was the leatherworker, a woman that he would have pegged as 'middle age' previously. She was big, at least as far as most of the people here were concerned, though she still had to look up to speak to him. Another shock was that she was one of the veterans who had brought slaves back. Perhaps it was some lingering prejudice of his old life, that soldiers of this time period were always men. Either way, the idea that a woman would own slaves wasn't jarring. It was the fact that she had gone to war. From what he could tell, the slaves were at least reasonably kindly treated. It was, of course, still dehumanizing. Or was that de-sentient-izing? He shook his head. That would also have to wait for him to consider.

The tour continued, passing some of the children who were playing an odd game with stones and sticks that he couldn't really determine the rules for. Something about tossing the sticks a certain way to get them to bounce off of the rocks and land in some configuration. "Mental note, introduce soccer to the children," he said to himself, and then yelped as something flashed in his vision. It wasn't exactly an icon or something he could focus on, just a flash. But somehow, he knew that he'd done something that changed his own ability to perceive the world, or something along those lines. "Timber Hauler, do you have some sort of ability to see things that aren't there?"

The old wolf smiled sadly. "I don't. But I am glad that you do. Supposedly outsiders can do that, but I have no idea how."

Trevor sighed and decided that it would have to wait until later. It would require a lot of time and he doubted that he would have that much attention to spare. Not for the next several hours at least. "I guess I'll have to think about that after the party. Let's keep going."

The rest of the people were farmers. Or members of farmer's families. After the leatherworker, he wasn't as shocked when the head of two of the three farming families were women. By the time that the sun had fully descended into the twilight, he was practically unable to talk because he was drooling so much at the smell of the roasting game. He had either seen or waved at or spoken with every head of house, and a few of the others, wives or husbands, and even a few of the children scampering about.

His attention was almost totally focused on food, though. He needed food. Quickly. He had never been all that taken with the term 'hangry' his students had started using recently, but he also recognized that he had plenty to eat at that point. Now? It had been all day, and his new body was doubtless burning calories faster than his old body did. He wasn't snarling, but he was very tired of the politician's grip and grin routine.

Thankfully, Timber Hauler seemed to recognize it and started calling for everyone to go to the feast. Trevor wasn't shocked at all that he was seated at the place of honor, facing the maypole and the fire behind that. There weren't any real plates or flatware, but he wasn't expecting any. At this equivalent point in earth's history, food was mostly eaten off of knives, but as he'd learned, iron was in short supply. The scientist in him wanted to know how they dealt with that; volcanic glass, bronze, or something else. The hungry wolf in him didn't care as long as someone dropped a haunch of roast beast in front of him.

Timber Hauler stood up, and Trevor practically bared his teeth at the old wolf who was preparing to make a speech. Perhaps the sheriff knew that Trevor was hungry. Perhaps he was hungry himself, because it was blessedly short. "You have all met him, and now we welcome him! Trevor, divine Chosen!" The crowd let out an enthusiastic cheer.

"Now get food in front of him before he smashes through the table and dives on it!" Another cheer, laced with laughter. Someone started thumping on a drum, something between a tom tom and a bongo. Someone else started to play some sort of bowed string instrument, and the closest he could say was that it sounded almost like a Chinese Erhu, but somehow had the kind of rasp that came from something like a Brazilian Berimbau. Only the tunes had no kind of chord structure that he recognized.

It had a rhythm, though, and it didn't take long for him to recognize that those who were bringing trays of food from the fires were dancing. When he saw that River Blossom was the one bringing the tray to his section of the table, his two hungers suddenly were at war with one another.

He had never quite understood when someone said that there was a difference between being nude and being naked. Nudity was simply a lack of clothes. Nakedness was nudity, with intent. And there she was, in all of her naked glory. And she knew it. And now, he knew it too. He licked his lips as she set the tray down in front of him, piled high with tubers and meat and some sort of roasted gourd.

Timber Hauler stuck the point of a bronze knife into the table between them, and leaned over to say, "You can put something in her belly later, but it is time to put something else in your belly right now." That made Trevor's ears pin back, shocked at just how quickly and fully she'd affected him. He shook himself and nodded, pulling the knife out of the table and then setting to carving bits off of the meat. He cut the other parts down to bite sizes, and if hunger was the best spice, then this meal was the most well-seasoned thing he'd ever had.

The tubers were potato-like, enough that he couldn't think of something else they could really be compared to. The gourds were some form of squash, though the seeds were inedible and were spat out like watermelons. The meat was something like goat, though it was a white meat. He'd learn the names of them later. He simply forced his eyes away from where River Blossom was doing her best to keep his eyes on her hips as she performed, focusing down at the table as he shoved food into his mouth. Chewing with his lips closed was almost impossible, especially the tubers and vegetables.

And the more that he tried to ignore her, the more that his eyes drifted back up to where she was spinning and shaking some set of noisemakers. A bit like a tambourine, but with beads instead of cymbals. Timber Hauler sat on one side of him, and Three Feather the leatherworker sat on the other side. Neither of them tried to engage him in conversation, for which he was grateful. As much as the language seemed to be tonal, there was little doubt that talking with his mouth full wouldn't just be rude, it would be impossible.

He ate and only paused to drink water from something that looked like an old oil lamp. He noticed when someone motioned toward River Blossom, and she traded her place dancing around the maypole to bring him another tray of food. Other servers started to come out of their own dances, and this time he forced himself to slow down as second helpings were brought to more and more people. He knew that food was a scarce resource and that nothing should go to waste. Therefore he didn't gorge, nor did he take anything off of the platter that he couldn't eat.

He also started to notice that the spouses of the heads of houses were the ones serving; men and women. He still couldn't identify on sight which of the people were slaves, at least not yet. He didn't see any kind of collar or notches taken out of ears or malnutrition that made any kind of pattern. He knew that one of the people dancing up front was one of Three Feather's slaves, but the slave looked exactly like one of the farmer's family, at least in terms of health. And while he wasn't a psychologist, he didn't see anything that made him think that the slave was overly resentful, and that shocked him.

He knew the history of slavery; the whole vile practice and its numerous iterations. He knew that most slaves were taken in war or raids, for most of history. They were sometimes self-subjected, selling themselves into slavery due to failed farms or other issues. Selling children into slavery was just as common. One of the key differences was that until about the 1600s, people were basically considered the property of something; the state, the king, the tribe, and if the people who owned you were owned by someone else, it was just another layer on top of things.

Doubtless in such a situation, many had taken a stoic outlook. Hell, one of the best Stoic philosophers was a slave. Thanks to the selectivity of history and the lack of records, and the fact that most people were illiterate in the past meant that there wasn't much of a perspective for anyone outside of the ruling classes who owned the slaves. It was reasonable that those who truly did think that they had no power to change the situation would either dive deeply into resentment and do as little as possible or shirk their duties, or that they would accept their lot in life and be as happy as they could within their circumstances.

Unfortunately, what Trevor knew about pre-industrial economies was rather extensive, and as long as physical labor drove production, slavery was seen as a requirement by most people. There was no machine to produce items, to drive down the cost of labor relative to goods, which would make the trappings of slavery more expensive than it was worth; room, board, overseers, chains, collars, et cetera.

Which just reminded him that he needed to start dragging these people out of the bronze age. "So much to do," he said, reaching for the 'cup' of water. Timber Hauler chuckled, and said, "I see that you've returned to us." There was a strange grunt in his voice, and when Trevor turned to face him, he instantly saw why. Timber Hauler's wife was in his lap, and seemed to be doing her best to either punish her husband for his lapse in attention toward her, or inspire him to take that attention further.

Trevor nearly asked if they were crazy, when he noticed three things. First, the children had been herded away to some sort of group game by some of the elders. Several of the old wolves were seated or standing in a line that didn't exactly block all view, but while the children scampered about and played, "the adults" had been left to their own devices. Second, There were new things on the table now. Something that looked like some form of beer in different cups. Last, Timber Hauler wasn't the only one who's lap was occupied. The dancers and servers had all abandoned their place toward the center of the tables, and were aggressively cuddling or petting their lovers. All of them were now engaged in foreplay, except him, and he had just long enough to wonder where River Blossom had gotten to before he felt a pair of hands trace over his chest.

She'd moved in behind him, and she started to nuzzle at the back of his neck, licking and giving gentle nips there while she pushed in close, mashing her chest against his shoulder blades. She wasn't the bustiest woman he'd ever seen. As a college professor, he'd seen his fair share of girls who were ideal candidates for breast reduction for their own health. He'd seen ones who relished the attention, ones who were upset that he didn't care, and ones who hated their own bodies. River Blossom wasn't anywhere near as large as they were. But she was large enough to be noticed, and she was large enough that he could feel that intoxicating contrast of soft and firm as she rubbed them against his back while trailing her own hands over his pectorals.

He could feel the way that her nipples slid through his fur as she slid up and down. He could feel the way that her breath washed over the base of his ears. And he could feel the way that she deftly pushed her hips up against him, straddling his tail. A tail which was, damn his new body, wagging eagerly.

Several of the other people were starting to make various sounds of passion; growls, groans, gasps, even soft yelps and words. Three Feather had pushed someone down on their back, and was riding him. Timber Bringer had bent his wife over and was mounting her. Timber Hauler was holding onto the table with one hand while the other cupped his wife's ass while she seemed to be doing her best to get him to breed her again. River Blossom had started to stroke him once more.

"I can feel that you are ready, Master Trevor," she whispered, and Trevor was snapped out of his haze. If there was one word that was guaranteed to put him in a foul mood, it was 'master' in this context. He'd not been part of the movement to remove the word in all contexts back on Earth, that had been a bridge too far for him. But he'd never once even wanted to think about being in such a role. He shook his head. "River Blossom, you don't have to do this. I don't expect it of you."

She stopped her exploration and curled her arms around his chest, pushing her muzzle over his shoulder. "But you are," she started to say, and he reached to place a finger over her lips. It didn't seem to have the same connotation here. He'd intended to silence her, but instead she started to lick and even suck at the digit in a way that brought his needs screaming back to the front of his mind.

He had to close his eyes and grit his teeth for a moment, resisting the urge to turn and pin her and claim her. Rut her. Pound her. She was there. She wanted it. Give it to her. Take her. Trevor stood, and heedless of any kind of rudeness that it would proclaim to anyone else, he stalked off toward the river.

River Blossom; Distal Bend, Village Square

River Blossom simply couldn't understand her Master. She'd been cleaning in the sheriff's house when Master had arrived and she heard his odd question about growth. She had never seen a wolf as large as he was, and instantly, she wanted him. She knew nothing about the other worlds, or what the Chosen ones did, other than the gods had picked them. She hadn't thought herself worthy of being with one of them, but she was as devout as anyone, and she knew, she knew from her ears to her tail that she had been selected as being with him when he'd looked at her and told her that she was beautiful.

She wasn't blind to the benefits, of course. She would have a good life. She would have strong children. She would be able to reasonably put off the attentions of that oaf of a farmer who had been chasing her for seasons. But most important, she would be serving the gods by serving this new lord.

And then he'd simply marked her as his! She hadn't even given him all that much pleasure! It was as if he had simply needed the hint of her willingness in order to demonstrate that her hopes were accurate. She had wanted to move into his arms right then and there, sob and thank him for the gift, but she also knew that whatever it was that he had been sent to do, was larger than her own petty wants and needs. He'd asked her for clothes, and water, and then she went about her duties.

True, she'd proclaimed his decision partly out of joy, but a tiny part of her felt guilty for using it as an excuse to finally put Furrow Plower off of her. No one would dare challenge the rights of one of the Chosen, not even that mean brute.

She had been frustrated that Timber Hauler had pulled her Master away for so long during the preparations. That made her feel guilty. She knew that there were important things to discuss between the two, and she knew that it was petty for her to want him to be with her. But she was his now, and she wanted him. She wanted him near her and with her. She wanted him to take her, of course, but it wasn't simply that she wanted his body. Was it?

Her Master was here to make everyone's lives better. To bring new things and new bounty to everyone. He couldn't spend days with her, like the traveling bards sang of in their romances. His work as divine Chosen would keep him from her for long periods, but surely he deserved someone adoring and loving to come home to at the end of the day! Master's work would doubtless be hard and tiring, and he deserved the rest and pleasures of a warm home and hearth and bed.

And she could tell that he was a kind man. He hadn't simply demanded things all at once. He was wise and diligent, and he had set about his duties almost instantly. How could he not see that she was part of his reward?

She knew that he'd watched her dance. She'd seen him look at her as the performance happened, and she saw that he was hungry for more than just the meal. She wasn't the most graceful, nor the prettiest, but he had looked at her and it had thrilled her with the intensity. It confirmed to her that he truly was going to be her reward as much as she was his. It was that look, as much as anything else, that had convinced a few of the other girls to not press their own attempts to be his. A few had made noises about not wanting to ruin her night. One had tried, but he hadn't even looked at her, and she'd returned to her dance and service of the community.

Then the children had been sent away for the service of beer and the adults to give in to their own desires. And Master had simply.... left. She'd felt his tension and needs. She'd felt him shiver with pleasure as she trailed her touch along his chest. And rather than taking what she was giving, he'd abandoned her.

He'd stormed off, his need for her throbbing and extended as he pushed through the trees toward the river. She felt ashamed. Had she upset him somehow? She looked toward Timber Hauler to ask him what was wrong, but the sheriff hadn't seen anything, with his wife's breasts surrounding his face while she bounced wildly on him. No one else had spent any real time with Master, and regardless, they were all engaged in their own sacred acts. It would be wrong to draw any of them away.

She moved toward the river to go after him, and as she passed the line of elders, one of them called out to her. The old crone was sitting on the hill, watching as the children chased each other, tugging small ribbons out of each other's tails. "Leave him, girl. He is as lost in this world as you would be in his," the old wolf said, and patted the hillside for River Blossom to sit down and stay there.

River Blossom sat down, curling her arms around her knees and resting her muzzle on them. "I don't understand," she whispered, and felt her fur start to mat down with tears.

The old woman laughed softly, and reached out to pet the younger wolf. "Neither does he. Imagine, girl. Imagine being in a world where nothing is what you know, or understand. Imagine being from a place where there are either hands of people in a village, or one city has more than our whole world. Imagine being in a place where food does not come from a hunt or from the ground. Imagine being in a place where ships sail the skies and none on the seas. Where trees are black and leaves are blue in summer. Where there is one moon and two suns. You would know nothing about it, and you would not know anything about the customs of its peoples. Their ways would be as foreign to you as possible."

River Blossom looked at the elder, muzzle open in shock. "Tell me of his world, you know so much about it!"

Once more the elder laughed, and leaned over to give River Blossom a gentle, grooming lick of her ears. "I know nothing of it, child. I simply thought of strange things and said them. You understand what I mean, though. Give him time. Perhaps when he was there, he had a woman that he loved already. Or, perhaps in his world, there are no women, and thus he has no idea how to be a man, in that regard. "

River Blossom gaped once more. "That is impossible. You cannot have more people without a man for seed and a woman for birth."

The elder motioned toward the treeline. "They seem to get on quite well without."

River Blossom couldn't argue with that. "But I want him," she whined.

"No," corrected the elder gently. "You want what he can do for you. No, don't argue, I see that look in your eyes. And there's nothing wrong with wanting him to make your life better. But you don't want him, you want what he represents to you. And part of what he does for you is get you away from Furrow Plower, and part of what he does for you is protect you, and part of what he does for you is give you something to serve."

The elder sat there for several seconds of silence, still petting the girl and comforting her, drawing the pretty young thing in to rest her head against her frail shoulder. "Tell me what you know about him, child. Not who he is here. But about him."

River Blossom thought about that. "He is kind," she started, and got cut off by the elder.

"And how do you know that? Don't tell me you know something just in your heart, you saw things. What did you see?"

"He didn't just start demanding things," River Blossom reasoned. "He thanked us for the gifts, which are his by right. He hasn't struck anyone. Elder Net Thrower said that Timber Hauler begged Master to not take us to war, and Master said that he hated war. He would fight if he had to but he didn't want to."

The crone nodded. "Good. What else do you know about him?"

"He is very wise," River Blossom said. "I don't know how I know that. But I do."

The elder sighed. "I think so, too. But I do know how I know that."

River Blossom turned and asked, "Will you share with me?"

Elder Reed Weaver was silent for several seconds before answering, "I don't think that you would understand if I did. But I will tell you. He hasn't started simply ordering us to do things. He's seeking to understand our ways, rather than simply assuming he knows better."

River Blossom didn't understand. "But he does. He has to."

Reed Weaver shook her head. "He knows different ways, child. Doubtless some of them are better. Perhaps even most of them. But he knows just as well that perhaps some of our ways are better. Because this is not his world. Think about it like this, girl. Would you take an iron bucket to the stream to fill it for your Master's bath?"

River Blossom nodded, "If he told me to, of course."

Reed Weaver scowled, and lightly cuffed River Blossom behind her head. "Think, girl. If he simply said to fetch water for a bath, would you pick an iron bucket to do it?"

River Blossom shook her head. "No."

"And why not?"

"Because it is too valuable. It would rust after it got wet."

"But if he told you to go to a blacksmith and have a sword made, you would want that made of iron. Why?"

"Because that is what iron is for."

"So what is good in one case is not good in another. I expect that some of his ideas are like that. Good in his world, but not good here."

River Blossom sat in silence, thinking hard about that. "How did you get to be so wise, Reed Weaver?"

That got the richest and happiest laugh yet. "I spent many years being far less wise, and remembering mistakes." She ruffled the younger girl's hair and then sat her back up. "He will be yours. But give him time. Perhaps in his world, there are no gods that choose anyone, and he is adapting to things far more basic than whether or not a pretty girl wants to raise her tail for him. Now. Do you want him to take you to his bed?"

River Blossom sat up straight, and nodded eagerly, tail already brushing the grass behind her in excitement. She had little doubt that Reed Weaver was going to tell her to put some mixture of flower petals and tree sap into his food, or perhaps the steps for a dance.

"Go to the river. You can track someone like him easily enough, crashing through the woods with no path to guide him beyond the smell of the water. Once you're there, tell him that you are sorry for being so forward. No, girl, let me finish. Tell him that you are sorry for trying to force your ways upon him. Tell him that you will not try to crawl into his bed, until he invites you. And then tell him that you want him to teach you how you can help him. Not serve him. HELP him."

River Blossom's tail had stopped wagging. "But I want to serve him."

Reed Weaver nodded. "I know, child. And if I were younger, I would want to serve him as well. Especially how you want it. But think. If he wanted you to serve him, would he have left when you were trying to do just that?"

Trevor and River Blossom; Distal Bend, River

Trevor had finally gotten to the river bank, and almost dove in. But he remembered an old lesson from his navy days about unfamiliar waters, and instead waded into the shockingly cold waters. He almost swore when the stream hit his erection, and it quickly retreated into its warm shelter. He stood there, panting, trying to force the unwelcome desires out of his body.

It took several minutes to clear his head, and he even stooped down so that he could splash the water onto his face. For just an instant he had an instinctive urge to clamp his mouth shut so that he couldn't catch some disease out of the river. Then he realized that this had probably been where the water for the feast had come from. And the gods putting him here, only for something like giardia to render him sick and useless made little sense.

He hung his head, arms draped over his knees. "No wonder there's so much sexual assault in the world if this is how strong a normal sex drive is," he said to himself. "All it took to get me ready to ravish her was a wiggle of hips and a flutter of eyelashes. Doesn't make it right. Just makes it understandable. You've gone without for almost 90 years, Trevor. You never wanted it. Now you do. And that's a part of your life now. And you can't free her because it would ruin her. And the fucking society expects that you're not going to just have her but others. Because it's your god-given right." He started to laugh. "And I can't even argue that it's not because there are no gods. I met them."

He heard a branch snap in the direction of the river bank, and whirled to face it. Waist deep in the water, it took him longer than he thought, and he nearly threw himself under the water in frustration when he saw who it was. She was standing there, fists clenched at her sides. "I didn't want to sneak up on you, Mast..."

"Don't call me that," he roared at her, making her flinch. He regretted his tone instantly, and then said, "Please. I can tell you why that upsets me, but I don't think that you would understand. It's too different from your culture. Where I come from, there is almost nothing as evil as owning another thinking being."

He could see that she didn't understand, and she started and stopped a few times. "I don't think that you're evil, Ma.... Trevor."

He didn't say anything, because he had no idea what to say. "Of course you don't think that I'm evil, I own you and anything you say that displeases me would give me cause to beat you," wasn't exactly wrong, but it also wasn't fair to her. Or was it? So he remained silent.

"I'm sorry, Trevor. I didn't think about anything, and I want you, and you are new here and to our ways, and all I have done has made you uncomfortable."

That surprised him, enough that he continued being silent. Taking that as her cue, she continued. "I want you to teach me how to best help you. And I promise that I will not try to pull you into bed. Or to join you in yours. Not until you invite me."

That made him snort a bitter laugh. "River Blossom, I can't invite you to my bed. Because it wouldn't be your choice, because you're my slave. Anything that I suggest or tell you, you have to do, right?"

She nodded, and it was only the shift in angle that let him catch the glint of water on her cheeks. Great, she was crying. He started toward the shore, the need to comfort her almost overwhelming. But he didn't trust himself. Nor, as cruel as it sounded, did he trust her. Not yet.

"I had no idea what the consequences would be of... what happened earlier. I should have stopped you. I'm sorry."

"I'm not, Trevor." She sniffled once, and then scrubbed at her muzzle with the back of her hand. "I am glad that you did. I want to serve the gods, and..." she faltered over the words, "I want to do that by helping you. But I need you to teach me how to do that. I know how to keep house. I know how to cook. If that is all I can do for you then I will be... happy."

He didn't believe her. She wouldn't be happy. Not until she was performing for him in sexual ways. Even if she would be content, which he doubted, she would always want that from him. "I will think about that," he allowed. "And thank you. I am... very lost here."

She stood there on the river bank, and then said, "I will be back at the sheriff's house. The town decided that we would build you a new home that is large enough for you. For now, you will stay in the room that you arrived in. We have no beds large enough for you, but all of the spare blankets from winter have been gathered. I will make certain that your room is clean and ready for you when you arrive."

With that, she turned, and walked off a few steps, then paused. She looked over her shoulder at him. "Will you be able to come back to town on your own?"

"Yes. I can see the light of the fire from here." He was about to turn back into the water and wade deeper to find a colder section to help reduce swelling, when something occurred to him. "Actually, wait." She turned back, and he could see the hope in her eyes. "Do you know what gr is?" She tilted her head in confusion and he scrubbed at his eyes in frustration. "Nevermind. When you get back, tell Timber Hauler that I will need several odd things in the morning, and not to throw away any of the wood from the fire that didn't burn completely. I will... see you when I return."

River Blossom turned, and walked back to the village. For the first few hands of paces, she cried, anger and frustration and despair warring through her. How could he not see that nothing he asked of her would be wrong? How could he not see that she wanted him to want her in that way? She stopped and curled up on the forest floor, sobbing a few times once she was sure that he wouldn't hear her. Why would the gods punish her with a Master who didn't want her to serve him properly? Even if the rest of the village wouldn't recognize it (which they would) and thus shame her for neglecting her duties, the personal disgrace was almost unbearable!

She didn't know how long she cried for. It couldn't have been very long, because the moons hadn't traveled very far. She stood up and brushed the loam from her fur, and then made her way back to the village. By the time she returned, the party had ended, and she could hear most of the village continuing their passion in the various houses.

If she knew Autumn Leaf, Timber Hauler and her would be still going, and thus she wouldn't be able to tell him about Master's strange requests. She found her clothes where she'd left them, and put them on. They still smelled like Master, which almost made her cry once more. Then she found Master's clothes and put them up in his room next to the blankets laid out as a mattress for him. She then thought of what strange things Master could want. If she couldn't tell Timber Hauler about them, she would have to gather them herself.

Trevor; Distal Bend, River

Trevor sat on the river bank, thinking. He no longer had the need to breed, at least not as immediate of one. Damn that girl. He was going to have real trouble getting anything done with her around. For a moment, he thought about an experiment to determine if there was an exponential aspect to how much he wanted her compared to how close she was.

Then he remembered an off-color joke about someone telling Sir Isaac Newton that he couldn't just say 'bigger breasts are better than small breasts', and the new revision being 'the greater the mass, the greater the attraction', and he started to laugh. He'd accepted the joke as an observer back then. Now he understood it, and the laughter was good.

It broke the tension. And it at least gave him enough of a breathing space that he could start thinking. He started with things that he knew that he could make with materials on hand. Gears. Wheels. Belts would almost certainly be an issue but he'd have to start testing. Water wheels. Soap. Ink. Chalk. Presses. Screws. Inclined planes.

"Start with the basics, Trevor. Simple machines. Get them an aqueduct before you even think about drip irrigation or vertical farming." He nodded to himself, and then started trying to test what had made that flash earlier. It took him nearly an hour of trying things before he finally managed to get a clear understanding.

It functioned somewhat like what he remembered of very old computer inquiries, right after keyboards had been introduced instead of punch cards.

Punch cards. He could introduce patterned looms. No. No, stop.

He determined that he would have to be very careful about how he phrased things. Because he could think 'add this thing to the to do list', and 'mental note: do this thing', and they wouldn't be added to the same entry. He had a few things already that he hadn't consciously sorted, such as a list of names of people he'd met, along with some information about them and what they looked like. Now that he was consciously thinking about it, though he would almost certainly put someone in the wrong place and risk forgetting them.

It took a lot more experimentation for him to come up with a way for him to make the mental database function like a project waterfall, but he managed it. The problem was that he was going to have to write himself notes about how to access various parts of it until things became ingrained. He couldn't simply think 'remember this' without that list of things being totally overwhelming. There was such a thing as too much data.

He also learned that he had access to, as the gods had said, all of the information on Earth. For a moment he simply started trying to find the limits of said knowledge, but he couldn't detect any real pattern. It almost felt like he had access to both Google Publish, and Wikipedia. If there was something that he needed extra data on that was referenced in the 'article', he could think about that and get more information.

He then tried to perform an experiment. He thought about C2 and the court cases there. He didn't find anything about court cases. He thought about arrest records, and found that there were a few arrests prior to the incident that brought him here, but nothing about that particular incident. He thought about his lecture notes for the last class he'd taught. Those were available, he'd put them online the morning of his last day.

Did that mean that time had frozen for his old world? Or was there some sort of lock in place that kept him from finding out events that were after his death? If he had to pick between those two conjectures, he'd have to go with the lockout, if only because it changed the fewest assumptions he had about how things worked.

Then again... magic.

He barely noticed how much time he'd spent until another flash of light hit him, and for a moment he wondered what he'd done. Then he recognized that it wasn't a flash of him altering some mental program, it was the sun coming up.

He stood and stretched his arms over his head, then started making his way back to the village. His fur was long dried by this point, and he ran his claws through it to scratch it back to a point where it was somewhat less matted down. He passed several people on his way back, and while they gave him the sort of look that said 'what the hell are you doing out there without your clothes', they pointed him in the direction of the village. He didn't have the fire or smoke to guide him any more.

When he got back, he found that not everyone had gotten up after the night of partying. It was early-springtime, give or take, and he suddenly realized that he hadn't really felt the chill. And after he froze in place, wondering why that was, he grumbled as the answer brushed across his thigh. He had a full-body fur coat. He could probably have slept in the woods with no real issues, as far as warmth went.

Early spring. Right. Not everyone needed to be up at this hour, just the farmers and a few of the spouses gathering water for breakfast. It made sense that not everyone would be up.

He ducked into the sheriff's house, and found that it was quiet. He went upstairs to the bedroom that he'd been allowed to use, and when he opened the door, he said, "What the hell?"

There were things in his room that made absolutely no sense. A bundle of leather scraps and a few tools for that. A bucket of water. A bundle of sticks. A plow. A bow and a quiver of arrows. A bucket of bones and table scraps. His clothing. The pile of blankets that had been promised to him. And tucked in the middle of it, curled and dressed, was River Blossom. For just an instant, he felt a flash of pure rage that she had broken her word so quickly after what had felt like a sincere apology, until he heard her breathing.

She was dressed, which meant that she hadn't thought about having sex when he got back. And she was curled up, almost in a fetal position as she slept, and he could tell that it was sleeping and not pretending. But what really stopped his anger was the way that she was breathing. Every few inhales, she'd let out a shuddering little sob, and when he looked at her muzzle, it was clear to him that she'd cried herself to sleep.

Trevor had no idea what to do about that. He'd never been a father, and hadn't possessed a paternal instinct before now. "Damn it," he sighed, and did his best to fold the blanket up around her, since she'd slept on top of it rather than turning it down and getting under the covers. He then put the data all together, and realized that she hadn't been able to do what he'd said. He'd told her to tell Timber Hauler to get ready for odd requests, but obviously Timber Hauler hadn't been available. So she'd just gathered up as many odd things as she could think of and brought them here to preempt his requests.

It was one of the most hamfistedly adorable things he'd ever seen. After dressing, he went back out of the house and to the pile of charred wood in the middle of the clearing.

Most of the various things on the tables hadn't been removed yet, as it was still early. Good enough for him. He pulled one of the bronze knives out of the table where it had been stuck, and went to collect his charcoal. He made a pile of it and then rinsed his hands in one of the buckets of water that had been in place to contain an outbreak of fire.

Looking around, he waved at one of the other villagers, asking, "Do you know when Timber Hauler or Autumn Leaf will be up and about?"

The farmer grunted. "I expect pretty damn quick. I think someone stole the plow."

That made Trevor flush. "I actually know what happened with that, it was a bit of a misunderstanding. Do you need it?"

They shrugged. "No, I just saw that it wasn't in the barn where I'd left it. Tracked it back here with the drag marks but then lost it on the stones. If you say you know what happened, then I won't worry too much about it. Thank you, m'lord."

Trevor almost growled, but held back. "You're welcome. But now that you're not about to report a theft, when will he be up?"

That got a laugh out of the farmer, who said, "Knowing his wife? Probably mid-day. She's been begging him for another pup and with you showing up, she probably had him a hand and a half times last night. Do you need him for something, or do you just need something?"

Trevor considered that, and then said, "I guess I don't really need him, exactly. I just have some things that I need to figure out before I start doing other stuff. Do your trees produce sap?"

The farmer scratched at his head. "They do. Are you needing pitch? We don't really have much of that at the moment."

Trevor waved his hands, "No, not pitch, just the sap. I know that it's a lot but about this much," he said, picking a bucket up and holding his hand about a quarter up the side, "and I'll be able to start making notes and doing things and planning. But I also need some stuff for measurement and experimentation."

The farmer took the bucket and nodded, then looked over his shoulder and let out a deep, short howl, and one of the children looked up and toward him. "Tracker, come here," the farmer called, and the youth scampered over, obviously eager to obey but also intimidated by the large and unfamiliar wolf with his father. "Our Chosen needs you to go get him a bunch of sap. You know where the taps are in the barn, take a couple of friends with you. About this much," the father indicated on the bucket.

Trevor gave a warm smile to the youth who was doing his best to hide behind his father's leg while also paying attention. "I don't know about how things are here, but where I come from there are several types of sap, thin, thick, even sweet. The stuff I need should be nice and thick, real gooey. Think you can do that?" The young wolf nodded, and then darted off.

"Tracker!" The father sounded annoyed.

The boy stopped and turned back around, tail low and ears flat. "I know we haven't had a Chosen before, but you need to show him proper respect," the farmer chided.

Trevor held his hands up, "It's alright, really," he started but the big farmer shook his head.

"No, it's not, even if you don't care, and that's fine by me, but the other ones and the nobles do care. Better he learns the habit right."

"Yes, m'lord," the boy squeaked out, and then turned to dash off.

Trevor sighed, and shook his head. He understood, but he also wasn't willing to fight about it. Especially because from the father's perspective, this was a valuable lesson, and it wasn't just unfounded. He knew of many stories where the nobility had given out lashes for 'impudence'. "As you say," he allowed. "It's Plow Steerer, right? I'm not getting myself mixed up?"

The farmer boomed out a laugh and nodded. "Aye, that's me. We've the northmost section of farmland. Not much to do today, we just checked the fields yesterday, and the sowing and plowing are already done, and we're in for rain this afternoon or tonight, so no call to water the fields. If you need something, I can help you out. I won't say that I'm some kind of next in line, that's your choice, obviously, but I will say that I've been here a while and most people will respect me if you need to organize something."

Trevor shook his head, "Actually, what I need is some basics."

They sat down and talked for a long time, and some of the questions Trevor asked seemed to confuse Plow Steerer. Not because 'that's so fundamental how do you not know this' but because some of the things that Trevor asked for, he had to re-frame. What in the name of the hells is 'volume'? What do you mean you want to know what's less than a stone of weight, it's just half a stone and a little more.

Trevor found that in some ways, he was blessed. The measurement of length was 4 fingers to a hand, 4 hands to a tail, 4 tails to a pace, and 256 paces to a "post", which if his math was right, was about a quarter of a mile. A finger was about an inch. Mass was trickier. It really was 'a stone' which was 'as big as a fist'. Given those two things, he could construct a system for measurement and extrapolate out from that. Good thing? They were already essentially thinking in consistent groupings. Bad thing? Those groupings were either 4, or powers of 4. That was going to play hell with him, because while he could read and write in their language and counting system, he still thought in base ten.

Measurement of time was almost impossible. They didn't have the concept of anything other than 'a moment', which boiled down to 'as soon as I finish this exact step I'm working on or can safely get to you'. That was both good and bad. No need to have a 24 hour day broken up into 60 minutes. He could probably come up with something exact based on a lot of data, at least a year's worth and then do the math to average it out. That would just require good accurate record keeping. And probably a bit of statistical smoothing, which would mean calculus.

There were (supposedly) 512 days in the year, which instantly made Trevor suspicious. They didn't have leap years, or anything like that, and supposedly the calendars were as good as they ever were. When Trevor asked about whether they had ever ignored calendars in order to plant early or late, Plow Steerer had asked why they would refer to calendars for that at all.

The two moons had different orbital lengths, the smaller one had the slower orbit of 64 days, while the larger, faster one had an orbit of 28 days. Again, Trevor didn't doubt that the number was off by just a bit, perhaps 28.13 or 63.96 or something like that. Either way, he assumed that the larger moon was simply in a closer orbit, rather than actually being physically larger.

Weeks were four days long, with a rest day every fourth day. Months were 16 weeks long.

By this point, Trevor was just glad that most of the 'basic' numbers in math were divisible by four; 360 degrees in a circle, and. .... .... Well that was all that he could instantly think of. Certainly not pi. Good thing that he could just reference all of the equations that he needed in order to do the calculations.

They generally knew that their world was a sphere, or at least 'round'. No one had any real idea how large it was, or at least no one here did. There may be some sages in the capital cities that did, but no one here had anything even close to it. Not even the trivia of 'about this many posts around the equator'.

They were interrupted by someone calling out that there was a rider approaching from the west. "What's in that direction," Trevor asked, and instantly knew that whatever it was, it wouldn't be good.

Plow Steerer's teeth were bared, and he rose as he said, "The local Knight's town. You'll excuse me, m'lord. This is going to be either a messenger or the Knight himself, and if Timber Hauler isn't awake yet, he needs to be."

---

This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any characters, living, dead or imaginary is purely a coincidence. All characters are a product of the author's imagination and copyright to them, unless noted guest appearances of other copyrighted characters are listed in this notice. Comments may be left (and are encouraged!) on the author's FurAffinity or SoFurry page. If you liked this story, and wish to support the author, please visit their Patreon.

This story is a work of fiction. Any immoral acts included in this story are a fantasy and should not be taken as encouragement to perform or endorsement of these acts by the author. Specifically, because apparently it needs to be said; anything other than expressed consent for any sexual encounter by a legal unimpaired sentient adult is wrong, immoral, and evil. Unwilling subjugation of sentients who have committed no crime is wrong, immoral, and evil.