Charlie stood up from the table and wandered over to the counter at the bar. Rubbing his stomach, he couldn’t help but think about how strangely modern the bar’s cuisine was. It was certainly a refreshing change from the more primitive food that this world had to offer.
Sitting behind the bar was a large, fat hog with a scruffy blonde beard. While the hog was had been pretending to talk to the overweight ram while Charlie ate, Charlie couldn’t help but notice that they were both shooting glances at Charlie’s table the entire time. And as soon as the hog saw the handsome wolf stand up, a grin crossed his face, revealing blunt tusks and waddled his way over to meet Charlie at the bar.
“Why hello there young wolf, I’m Fergus!” The bartender’s accent was definitely Scottish, though, not nearly as thick as Hagerd’s.
“You can call me Charlie,” the wolf replied, “do you have room for 3 tonight?”
“Well,” the Hog began, “what with the bridge washing out thanks to this freak storm, we’re a bit full up.”
The hog motioned towards the ram, “but mah friend here says you’ve piqued his interest. We have a smaller room saved for special visitors. You can have it if you want and I’ll see if one of tha boys can find an extra mattress for ya.”
“Wait, the bridge to the Holy Lands washed out?” Charlie asked.
“Aye. Afraid so. There was a caravan set to leave tonight, so all of them had tah scramble to git rooms. We’re almost full-up.” Fergus said.
“Thanks,” Charlie stood to go talk to Hagerd and get some answers out of him when the hog laid a trotter on his arm.
“Hey,” Fergus said softly, “Are ya takin’ him away then?”
“Yes.” Charlie replied succinctly.
“Why?” Fergus asked. “He’s been talkin’ nonsense about simulation this and that for nigh 20 years. Why…is anything real?”
“I don’t know how real it is, but he wasn’t wrong. I’d be more worried about what happens if he refuses to leave.” Charlie whispered.
“Finn is cruel.” Fergus whispered.
“He probably didn’t think there was anything wrong with sticking someone in a pleasant illusion for twenty years.” Charlie replied.
“Aye. It was pleasant enough.” Fergus replied. “But he didn’t have ta hold him at night when he shook in terror or ran like a madman through the streets screaming for Finn to let him out.”
“I’m sorry. Are you two close?”
Fergus held up a golden wedding band.
“I have to take him along. Finn can bend reality. You don’t want to find out the consequences for not playing.” Charlie replied.
“Keep him safe then,” Fergus swallowed heavily and moved away to another customer, plastering a smile on his face. “Ahoy Langdruf! How’re the kits?”
Charlie walked around the corner and down a hallway. Servers were carrying tubs of dirty plates and cups to the back and carrying filled trays of food to the front. The kitchen was bustling with various cooks. Fergus and Hagerd certainly made money with an inn this busy.
He looked around and found a backdoor. Outside, Hagerd sat heavily on a bench under the porch, smoking a pipe. He glanced up but said nothing as Charlie sat down next to him. Charlie watched the lightning and rain skitter across the roofs and rivulets of water cascade down the street. It was mesmerizing.
“You here for me, then?” Hagerd spoke.
“Yes. It’s time to go. You’ve been here long enough.”
“No.” Hagerd replied.
“No?”
“I own an inn. I’m married. We have a potion on the way so we can have children to inherit the business.”
“You don’t want to leave?”
“Look at this place. I built it. I recreated cheeseburgers and shakes and ice cream and soda and plumbing. I did that!”
“And Finn can take it all away with a press of a button.” Charlie reminded him. “And you’ll forget everything.”
Hagerd turned away, back heaving. Charlie realized the massive ram was sobbing. He reached out a paw and patted his shoulder.
“It’s time to go home.”
“This is my home!” Hagerd cried.
“I know that. You know that. But Finn doesn’t. He doesn’t understand that you’ve been here for…”
“Twenty years.” Hagerd wiped snot from his broad nose.
“Exactly. And when we win, we get a reward. You can have anything you want. Think about that.” Charlie replied.
“I… should adventure, then?”
“You’ve made a life here. If you wanna keep it, then you have to fight for it. Okay?” Charlie said, not completely sure if that was true. In any event, it certainly sounded inspirational.
“Alright,” Hagerd stood, gripping his maul, and held out a large, broad hoofletted hand, “I’m Hagerd. Runic Barbarian.”
“Charles, Rogue Assassin,” Charlie grinned.
“So what now?” Hagerd asked.
“Nothing. We languish a few days while the bridge gets rebuilt. We have a few things left to do around town.”
“Oh?”
“Killed the hag.”
“Really!” Hagerd’s jaw dropped, “Fergus’ cousin got taken by her!”
“Well, there isn’t much left except an essence jar You’d need to find someone willing to give themselves up for him to live again.”
“Oh. Well, at least we can free his soul later.” Hagerd nodded to himself.
“So what the hell did you do in twenty years?” Charlie asked, standing and moving back to the door to the inn.
“A long story…” Hagerd said.
“All ears.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Chloa-Chlaithe was an amazing country.
That much, Hagerd had learned. It had been a week since Finn had dropped him off in this world. Magic was used in the oddest ways. Neon hadn’t been discovered but signs did glow with arcane light. When Paul had tried selling him on the game, he’d waxed on about fallen civilizations and Titans and such. However, that wasn’t what Hagerd had seen. Maybe bits and pieces of the setting had made it in, but it was all mostly animal anthros and myth anthros.
Still, the inventive uses of magic was prolific throughout the kingdom. Hagerd guessed that it was the AI making the tweaks to the world. If-Then statements. If magic exists and works like X, then y. No wonder Finn had to tone down his initial world building ideas.
It was nighttime. Hagerd had spent the last 8 hours as a bouncer for Fergus’ bar. The pig paid him rather well-maybe too well. He thought he’d caught the hog giving him looks when the pig didn’t think Hagerd was looking. Silly hog. Hagerd smiled and shook his head as he walked out the inn’s door and onto the cobblestone streets.
Hefting his maul, Hagerd trotted down the road, past a litany of faux neon advertisements, to his new “home”. It was so interesting watching the different species of anthros as they went about their day. Lots of sexy mammal types but he also found an anthro puffin that was rather handsome and more than a few lizards.
Hagerd had no idea how long he’d be in this country, this world, so he wasn’t all that interested in making connections. Like that hog – Hagerd could picture him very handsome, and kinda DILFy when he got older - so he wouldn’t be a bad catch right now. But what was the point? That was the question that stopped him from getting close.
Still, when he got to his rather large cottage near the edge of town-a stone’s throw from the witch’s run-down cottage, in fact-he was looking forward to another day with Fergus. The hog was really nice and had gladly accepted Hagerd’s help with bouncing undesirables from the bar. Fergus was fine as just a friend, he was sure of it.
The interior of hiscottage had sturdy wooden furniture and a… bed. At least it had the shape of a bed, but what passed for a mattress was far from comfortable. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Finn intended him to upgrade the thing. But if he was only going to be here a month or so to get acquainted with the world, what was the point? Maybe a place for the party to hang out, but they could do that at the inn.
He shucked his clothes, admired his well-muscled form in the mirror, and jerked himself off. The handsome ram watched his body writhe, the muscles in his forearms tense, and his pecs and biceps flex. It was so hot. He was so hot. With a bleat, he came over his reflection.
A quick clean-up, a piss outside, and then he plopped into his straw mattress. Sleep claimed him quickly. And then he woke up and went to work.
Again and again and again, the same routine for 6 months.
That was when he began to worry. His muscles had started to fade and a bit of flab had covered his abs. The ram had been forced to run and work out. He was winded and sore afterwards, but he managed to maintain his definition by a finger’s breadth. Any longer and he might not have had the wherewithal to get back into shape.
Thankfully, gymnasiums existed. Hagerd had never really done exercise before, but when hit the gym, he found a whole lot of other anthros more than willing to help him out. It took him two months of developing a stable exercise and weight-lifting routine to regain what he had lost from inactivity.
And that was what set off his first panic attack.
He’d been here for almost a year, and the party hadn’t come. A horrible voice had whispered that he’d written in the age of 45 in his character’s sheet. Hagerd was currently 21 - young, dumb and full of cum. Younger even than he had been in the real world.
That meant he had to spend…at least 20 years in this form. But that was silly, right? Why wouldn’t Finn have just aged him up?
And then he’d smacked himself in the head with his hoof.
Finn had! He’d tried to age up the ram. But Hagerd had protested, saying he wanted to experience his life before he turned into some middle-aged lard ball who drank all the time. Finn…Finn had literally granted his wish. He wasn’t waiting around for his friends to come in a few days or weeks or months. He was here for two decades plus.
And so Hagerd had run around the block until he couldn’t run anymore, screaming for Finn to save him. He’d garnered concerned looks from the populace. But as he sat on his cot, shivering in existential terror at the idea of being trapped in some kind of illusion for the next twenty years, there had come a knock on his door.
“Who,” Hagerd swallowed, throat dry, “Who is it?”
“Fergus.” The hog’s voice was clear.
“Come in,” Hagerd said miserably.
The hog couldn’t help him. No one could help him. They would all die when the simulation ended anyways, so talking to them might be a bad idea.
Fergus stepped inside, his well-muscled body only lightly marred by a softness around his middle, natural for hogs. The fact that he was so skinny was what made him stand out. Fergus sat down on the bed next to Hagerd.
“Are you okay?” Fergus asked quietly.
Hagerd shook his head. “It’s all fake.”
“Are you sure?” Fergus asked, and Hagerd thought for a second that the hog knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Aye.”
“I see it sometimes too. Everyone does.”
“...See what?”
“The flickers the gods make when they alter reality.”
“What if it was only one god, and he put me here for twenty years?”
“...He put you in a sexy ram’s body and told you to live out your life for the next twenty years? What happens at the end? Do you die or something? That could be terrifying to know.” Fergus asked seriously.
“You believe me?” Hagerd asked.
“Of course. Gods exist, everyone knows that.” Fergus said. “Where do clerics get their powers from otherwise?”
“No, I don’t die. Everyone else does. When I’m done with an adventure, he’s turning the simulation off and bringing me back to the real world.”
“Oh, now that’s scary!” Fergus chuckled. “For me. Why is it so upsetting for you?”
“What’s the point of doing anything if it goes away?”
“Very deep question.” Fergus shrugs. “If the world isn’t real, there aren’t any consequences. So why not do whatever you want?”
“Because if I end up falling in love, what’s the point?”
“Ah.” Fergus smiled sadly. “That is the rub, right? What’s the point of falling in love if everything ends?”
Hagerd nodded.
“The point is… it hasn’t yet.” Fergus placed a trotter on Hagerd’s leg. “And I’ll be dying regardless. Simulation or not. But I’d like to spend my time with you.”
“You could always become a lich,” Hagerd said, turning to the hog and smiling.
“Mmm, undead pig-man. Sounds terrible.” Fergus leaned over and the two kissed.
Hagerd relaxed and the two rolled onto the bed. It creaked but held under their weight. Hagerd couldn’t help running his hands over the pig’s bristly body, his cock stiff as a board. They kissed hungrily, breaths coming faster. The hog ran his trotters over Hagerd’s jutting dick. Hagerd tentatively slid his hooflets down to wrap around Fergus’ engorged, spiraling cock.
They pressed together and Hagerd relaxed, enjoying the friction of their muscular, animalistic bodies rubbing against each other.