The Coward and the Wolf Ch. 02

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A man finds himself summoned to a fantasy world.
17.6k words
4.68
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Part 2 of the 6 part series

Updated 10/08/2022
Created 03/04/2014
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Authors Note: Chapter contains female domination, non-consent and light SM.

*****

A man can dream. Steve was a man just like any other. He was a man who had been pulled across time and space, to be deposited in a fantasy world where he was to be worshipped as a god. He had even spent a few blissful moments of the previous evening passionately worshipping a beautiful wolf woman's foot before passing out. So upon waking with his head pillowed on something warm soft and fluffy, even a jaded man such as himself was allowed to have hopes.

So it is not hard to imagine then, the disappointment he felt not only in his bedding arrangements, but also in himself, to awaken to the sight of a few haphazardly stacked cream pillows beneath his head, rather than the most bountiful form of his host. A man can dream, but only because reality rarely chooses to deliver.

Pillows however still beat spears. Steve took solace in that fact. He found much to his delight that his headache had disappeared. In fact his whole body felt fine. No, his whole body felt great. Sitting up and running his hands up and down himself, he found his scrapes and bruises from yesterday's ordeal had completely disappeared.

He was also completely nude. And covered in white symbols. Covered from head to toe in symbols that seemed vaguely familiar. He took a moment to appreciate the artistic skill of whoever had painted him with such detail. Then he felt shame and outrage.

It was the quiet kind of outrage. The kind that says 'Yeah I'm pissed, but I also know there is sweet fuck all I can do about it.' It was the sort of outrage he had come to know intimately yesterday, and was quickly realizing he would be courting it for the foreseeable future. In that regard it was quite similar to his conspicuously absent hostess.

Priorities. Clothes. The priority right now was not to be naked. It wasn't that Steve was embarrassed by his body, quite the opposite. He was quite a vain person truth be told.

The issue was that it was hard to garner respect from someone with your dick swinging about. Or, maybe it was the opposite? Thinking back the werewolves clothing had shown a lot of skin, as well as other... bodily parts. He pictured those naked female forms in his mind. Stop. Focus. Stick with what we know. Steve began his first battle of the day. His hunt for pants.

The hunt ended pretty quickly. The conclusion. He had found a loincloth. His old clothes were MIA, presumed stolen by a large white wolf with a readily apparent sadistic sense of humor. He offered a quick prayer in his trousers memory.

Steve eyed the loincloth like a man might eye a king cobra he had stumbled across in a public toilet stall while under the effects of several laxatives. He knew he had to make a decision between two unpleasant choices. He had to make it soon. One choice could have potentially lethal consequences. The other public shame and an uncomfortable sensation around his groin. After a few seconds of deliberation, Steve stood shamefaced in nothing but a cream loincloth and white paint.

It wasn't that he was embarrassed by wearing a loincloth. Well he was, it just had nothing to do with the dangerous amount of exposure it represented. The issue was that as a man trapped on a technologically inferior foreign planet, the loin cloth was the ultimate in cliché attire.

Steve chuckled. It seemed his sense of humor was still functional. So long as he could laugh at the absurdity of the situation, he wouldn't freeze up when something really strange happened.

He began searching the tent building for his host, or better yet, his pants. With solid determination he began his journey through the canvas hallways of the absurd tent building.

It wasn't long before he could make out the smells and sounds of cooking. Following his senses he continued onwards.

It seemed like a lifetime, but was likely only a few minutes of infuriating wrong turns into rooms he could see no obvious purpose for, that he searched. He finally found the kitchen.

Kitchen may have been too strong a word for it. Kitchen implied preparation of food. He amended; room with a panicking Talia burning a hunk of meat the size of his head over a fire with a large stick. The absurdity of the wolf woman wildly waving the hunk of burning meat, was only confounded by the fact that she seemed to be wearing a black lycra looking shirt with the words 'bad bitch' written clearly on the front. He would have been shocked at the bizarrely modern shirt in the scene were his eyes not riveted to the fact that the shirt was the 'only' thing she was wearing.

Steve couldn't help it. He froze. His sense of comedy evidently wasn't advanced enough to come up with a quip for this situation. Talia for her part spotted him in the doorway, and froze mid meat wave. The silent room was filled only with the sounds of the light crackling of the fire. In a moment of absent minded observation Steve noticed that the smoke from the fire was escaping through a hole in the roof, that was acting as a chimney. Nifty.

The frozen stillness was finally interrupted by Talia uttering one word.

"You!"

"Me?" Steve looked around. They were the only ones present. It must be him.

"This is your fault!" she took one angry step forward. Meat stick brandished before her. "If you humans weren't so damn picky about your food. I wouldn't have to do this crap!" A dramatic flourish of her hand about the 'kitchen' illustrated her statement.

Steve was touched, figuratively and literally by the meat kebab. He felt obscenely grateful for the fact she had tried to make him breakfast. A little too grateful considering she was the reason he was on this planet in the first place. Still he couldn't help but think she looked almost adorable angrily hefting the massive charred hunk of meat.

He decided that he would show his appreciation through action. A smaller more manipulative part of him also pointed out that acting grateful to her might endear her to him. Endearment might make the difference between her dropping him like a burnt meat stick, and saving his ass should he need it. Relationships were give and take. The trick was to get the maximum take for your give.

He took a step forward and grasped the hunk of meat by the base, and cautiously took a bite. It was terrible. It was like she had somehow managed to blacken the outside while leaving the center cold. That took some serious talent. Evidently she did not cook her own meals. He absentmindedly hoped that whatever he was eating had never been able to talk.

He smiled, "Thank you for breakfast Talia".

Thanking someone for breakfast is a difficult feat when you are trying to keep said breakfast from coming straight back up your esophagus.

Talia stopped mid rant. She turned the full bore of her gaze on him. Steve tried to keep smiling pleasantly as she observed him. Cold sweat broke out in the small of his back.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity. She started laughing. Steve didn't even spend a moment being puzzled. She had been messing with him from the start. He felt an idiot. As well as nauseous.

Looking around he realized there were two wooden plates of strange fruits and cooked meats hidden in the corner of the room. He groaned inwardly as he threw away the disgusting meat block. Talia was now almost in tears as she grabbed her stomach and cackled.

'Note to self: Don't trust Talia. She wastes food.' Steve grumbled incoherently as he walked over to grab the plates. He grudgingly pushed one in Talia's direction as he sat down cross legged on the floor to eat.

He would have reveled in the exotic flavors of the strange fruits and meats were his mouth not filled with the taste of burnt flesh. He tried his utmost to tactfully ignoring Talia's great guffaws of laughter as she rolled on the floor. After a while she lazily sat up and began devouring the contents of the plate ravenously.

Was she hungry because she had been waiting for him to wake up to do this little trick? If so she needed a new hobby. Realizing he was watching her eat, she gave him a sultry wink before returning her focus to her food. Yep, definitely needs a new hobby. Preferably one that didn't involve him. Or world domination.

Finally when the two had finished eating, she sat back and spoke. "So Steve, you have questions and I have answers. Ask what you want in the next half hour. Then we get started on what I brought you here to do." Her grin was obscenely suggestive. What was more suggestive was that she was choosing to occasionally open and close her legs to flash him. Sadist.

Steve looked over at her. He was genuinely wondering how the serene motherly being he had seen yesterday when they were outside, and this mischievously grinning woman with the words 'bad bitch' stapled across her shirt could possibly be the same.

He closed his eyes to ignore her so he could focus on his questions. He again cursed reality. Why was it only absurd when it came to the irritating things in life?

First things first, "Where did that shirt come from?"

"The humans left it behind."

"You expect me to believe its two hundred years old?"

"They built to last."

He dared not ruin his monk like focus by opening his eyes. His train of thought could be instantly ruined by a seductive flashing, or even just the sight of her ample breasts straining against that poor shirt.

"Ok, where are my clothes?"

"I've. Hidden. Them" She was speaking in a giggly sing song voice.

"Why?" Hopefully it was a reason better than, 'it seemed funny at the time'.

"Because if you are to earn the support of the tribe, you need to dress like them. Not like a Lizard-kin merchant who's afraid of the cold."

Steve could understand that. Sort of. Even if he wasn't one hundred percent sure on what a Lizard-kin merchant was.

It seemed self-explanatory, but he had no idea if merchants were respected in this culture. Or Lizard-kin. Probably not, having seen the werewolf's heavy martial bias. He assumed the paints and loin cloth were a part of the whole 'fitting in' thing.

"So why does Michael think I'm a servant of the gods and not a god myself?"

"Two reasons. Firstly you didn't smite him to death when he attempted to subjugate you. A god would have the strength to do so, so he likely came to the conclusion you were a lesser aspect.

Secondly, it's just plain more convenient for him to say you're not a full god. He would face more resistance from my more staunch supporters, if he tried to claim a full deity as his servant. It would make it seem as if he were trying to stand above the current gods, rather than simply as their equal."

So basically to this culture a 'god' was a being of unchallengeable strength. That made sense. Mostly. In order to bypass that Michael didn't have unbeatable strength, he was going to 'ascend' to godhood in the eyes of his people by controlling a being of divine origin, a feat that no other being in this world has done before apparently. Steve imagined it was all smoothed over by the fact that Michael was already ridiculously strong.

Next question then. The more Steve knew the more bad situations he could avoid.

"Where did all the humans go? Those buildings look like they took a while to build. People don't just up and leave after putting that kind of investment in."

There was a sudden quiet. It lasted quite a long time.

Steve was confused. Was his question offensive somehow? He didn't think Talia was the type to be easily offended. Then again he had known her all of a few hours. He was not conceited enough to think you could get a firm grasp of someone's personality in such a short period of time.

When she spoke her voice had lost all that mischievous melody it had before. Her voice was hard and quiet.

"They died."

"All of them?" That seemed unlikely in a space age society.

"There were only seven on world, one male and six females"

"How did they die?"

"That's a long story"

"So you said before. Cut it down to about twenty minutes." He didn't mean to be abrupt, but if the humans had died of disease or something similar he needed to know now. What he would do with this information he didn't know. Panic probably.

A loud sigh sounded off to his right, before Talia started in a complete monotone "Before the humans came to this world it was embroiled in war, disease and hunger. When the humans first arrived on this world they used their robotic war machines to forcibly enforce peace by destroying any who challenged it.

They then proceeded to teach us medicine, farming and proper construction techniques. They even gave us a common language."

That explains why everyone here speaks English. The culture bleed over probably also explained the distinctly familiar names.

"The weakest of them was easily as strong as the greatest werewolf. They claimed the amazing abilities they possessed were the results of 'gene therapies' and 'machine augments'. Concepts that my primitive forebears couldn't possibly understand.

Seeing the great wonders and strength of these beings from the stars. My forefathers worshipped them as gods. It was only natural; strength is the only requirement to rule on Sapheros. All six tribes were united under one banner for the first time in our short history.

Each tribe adopted one of the off-worlders as their patron god. The only exception was my own tribe, the werewolves, being the largest tribe they swore their loyalty to two of the off-worlders.

The pair chosen claimed to be 'married' and were rarely away from one another. My people not understanding the meaning of marriage, misunderstood their explanations, and came to believe the two marriage partners were in fact two parts of one greater being.

The Humans at first tried to stop this religious adoration, but upon seeing the positive effects a unified religion was having in uniting the populace, they decided to accept their new roles as honorary leaders of each of the tribes.

What they did not realize at the time were the risks and responsibilities their new roles would entail. They even chose to let their robotic guardians return to the stars, having claimed they were no longer needed.

It was an age of peace and prosperity this world had never known. A peace that lasted but a short twenty years. It was on the anniversary of the Humans arrival that they announced they must return home.

They claimed that there had emerged a great war in the galactic community that required their presence, for the battle lines had moved close to their own home worlds.

It was in that moment their fate was sealed. In all the time that they had spent teaching us, they had learned nothing about us or our beliefs"

Talia paused. She took a deep breath before she continued. She evidently did not savor recounting this tale.

"You have to understand something about the peoples of this world. We worship strength in all things. The form that strength takes is irrelevant. Only that it exists in some form at all. Thus to be considered a 'god' your strength must be absolute, or close enough that it doesn't matter.

It was not the human's medicine or buildings that gave them power over my people. It was the idea of their absolute strength. Even when the humans let their robotic warriors leave, my people believed the human's strength absolute.

That was why they were never challenged, their reputation as invincible was shield enough against any challenge of leadership.

So can you imagine my people's horror when they admitted that their power was not beyond compare? That within the stars there were other beings able to challenge them.

This raised another question. If the humans could be defeated by others, what was to stop the species of Sapheros from gaining enough strength to challenge the gods themselves?

It is the one constant rule of this world: The strong seek each other out, and create stronger beings. Through creating new offspring or destroying one another in combat. The rules are simple; so long as the strong collide, only the fittest will survive.

It was not even one night before the six leaders of the tribes met in secret. The conclusion they came to was this; the old gods had become weak, new gods must be forged. Gods who understood the importance of power above all things. Sapherosian Gods.

Invites were sent out to the humans on the next morning. One from each tribe to its patron god. They were invited to farewell celebrations in each of their separate kingdoms. Without their robotic warriors, away from their home base and alone, the Humans were all captured on arrival.

The only exception being the male of the married couple. In the confusion of the capture attempt, he was wounded just before he managed to touch a device on his wrist and disappeared into thin air. Abandoning his wife, never to be seen again.

With the capture of the six females, the work of forging new gods could commence. The new gods would be born by mixing the blood of human and Sapherosian.

My ancestors of that time had learned of their magical abilities through the human's teachings. Thus my tribe's shamans wrought the most powerful magic's they could onto the body of the captured goddess.

Carving sigils of fertility and submission into the body they had once worshipped. By the time they were finished, it was said that not one part of her body was untouched by the intricate markings.

It was then that the leader of the tribe mounted her. Using magic and powerful drugs he rutted with her without rest for two weeks. Sure enough, by the third week the signs of pregnancy began to show on the battered woman. Within another four weeks she went into labor.

The birth was rough. Even with the improved health and strength provided by the human's gene therapy, she was unable to survive the alien child that had formed in her womb.

From the death of the mother though a single child came to be. The story was much the same for the other six tribes. Within a year all the humans on Sapheros were dead or in the case of the male, missing. The tribes chose to believe that their souls had passed into the children, rather than accept that they had effectively murdered the strongest being they had ever encountered.

Six new gods had been born. Sapherosian gods, ageless and physically far stronger than even the humans they had spawned from, yet in the shape of the tribes they hailed from. So it is, that to this day the Sapherosian gods stand vigil over their tribes, to advise on any actions the tribe leader chooses to take. Just as their parents did before them."

Talia had finished her tale. By the end she sounded like she was simply reading aloud words she had heard a thousand times before.

Steve didn't know what to say. It was pretty obvious as to what Talia's origin were now. What could he say? "Oh so your mother was an alien who was betrayed, raped and died giving birth to you?" Not exactly conversation stimulating material.

He pondered giving his condolences, but he had a feeling she would not react to any show of compassion positively. It didn't seem to be part of the cultural psyche of this world.

"So I would be correct in assuming you are one the six Sapherosian gods?" Not exactly subtle, but he wasn't exactly on his A-game right now. The uncooked meats from before were still churning up his insides. Besides the awkward silence was killing him. He almost missed Talia tormenting him. Almost.

He gradually opened his eyes when she didn't answer. He didn't think he would be getting anymore answers out of her for the immediate future given her sudden retreat into silence. She sure as shit didn't sound like she was in a flashing mood anymore.

He was right. She didn't look to be in a question answering mood. She was standing in front of him. She had a large bucket of water, and an equally unpleasant grin.