Steve's boots pressed into the grassland with a low crunch, each step steady and slow.
The wind brushed past him, but he barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere, circling around a single thought.
'I have the book. I have the Author's Privilege. So why the hell… why the hell do I still feel like I'm missing something?'
His eyes narrowed, yet the confusion on his face remained. He could remember the story—or at least fragments of it. But not all. It was like trying to complete a puzzle with pieces missing. The major plot was in his grasp, but fine details… they kept slipping through his mental fingers.
"Well, whatever..." he muttered under his breath.
"...Doesn't matter now...right now, I'm certain of one thing...which lied ahead in the village." He looked up.
Ahead of him, the grassy plains faded into paved stone, and just a few feet beyond, the entrance to the village came into full view.
Stone houses lined the outer edges like an old fortress. It wasn't grand or flashy—just ordinary. A handful of barns stood on the left, smoke coiling out from a chimney nearby. The market square, as well, was visible in the distance.
He stepped off the grass and onto the stone.
But something was… off.
His feet slowed.
His brows twitched slightly as his eyes scanned the surroundings. At first, he didn't understand it.
But then it hit him.
'No...No men.'
Well—maybe two? Three?
No more than five, and even that was a stretch. Men were present, but barely. Like rare exhibits tucked in the corners.
Instead, what dominated the village were women.
Or rather, MILFs.
Thick, curvy women with tight waists and generous hips. Busty beauties walking lazily across the streets in flared dresses that swayed like silk in the breeze. Mature women with sharp eyes and seductive frames. Twenties, thirties—blondes, brunettes, redheads, all in form-fitting, low-cut, shoulder-dropping outfits.
His jaw slackened a little.
"Am I… in heaven?" he whispered, eyes widening as his feet came to a stop.
His face flushed pink as his eyes darted in every direction.
Cleavage.
Boobs.
Ass.
Everywhere.
Soft thighs peeked through side-slitted skirts. He caught flashes of round, jiggling asses as women walked ahead of him. Even the way they swayed—it wasn't random. No, it was rhythmic, hypnotic.
'Oh my… this is the Town of Mirrors.' he thought, his heart thumping.
His pulse picked up.
'There's barely any man here...just like I had thought of...if that's so… that'd mean—' his thoughts paused, a wicked smile forming on his lips.
'They've all probably never been satisfied by a man.'
He tried to breathe, but even the air around him smelled sweet and feminine.
His grin widened, cheekbones lifting, eyes glowing with mischief.
'If that's true… if they're all deprived…' his thoughts purred like a cat,
'Then the moment —the moment they realize I have what a real man has…'
His eyes slid across a pair of swinging hips.
'…they'll crave me. All of them...every fucking one.'
A swirl of excitement bloomed in his stomach.
'The ability to give pleasure. The skill to satisfy. The confidence to take control.'
He felt something stir in his pants.
'Oh yeah… they're all mine.'
The breeze whispered through the village, teasing the hem of a nearby woman's skirt. It lifted—just enough to unveil a glimpse that snatched Steve's full attention.
His breath hitched.
There it was—round, bouncy, and deliciously sculpted, her ass swayed with a subtle bounce beneath the sheer kiss of rose-colored lace.
It clung to her like silk on velvet, framing every sinful curve in a way that made his throat dry.
"Oh… my…" his eyes sparkled.
"Oh my, yes."
A tiny, breathless laugh escaped his throat as the lady hurriedly pulled her skirt down, her red slightly reddened as she turned from side to side.
Steve, however, had no care in the world if he was caught staring.
'Yeah… I'm a pervert. So what? This—' he spread his arms as if to embrace the view
'—this is basically a pervert's heaven.'
His knees wobbled slightly, but he snapped his spine straight.
"No. Focus."
He took a deep breath, clearing the cloud of lust from his brain—partially.
'This isn't the time. Right now, I need to get home. I need to assemble all I know about this world. So far, I have the Author's Privilege. I know I can rewrite parts of this world, bend it and adjust it to my liking. And I know this world is full of women…'
A smirk crept back onto his face.
"But once I get home… that's when I start planning."
He started walking again, slower now, more deliberate.
"That's right." he thought.
'That's when the harem starts. And these MILFs? All of them—every single one—are mine. And I'm going to use them. Fully.'
He took in a long, slow breath, then let it out in a soft "poof."
Then he moved again, glancing left and right as he passed through the crowds of beauty.
His voice echoed in his mind with each step.
'Mine...all mine...mine...'
His eyes scanned ahead, still searching for any land marks to his home.
"Based on what I wrote in the book, my house should be right about…"
He stopped.
Lifting his head, his eyes locked on a small stone structure. It looked… underwhelming. Regular, plain—definitely smaller than the houses around it.
"...Here?" he muttered.
He stared at the wooden door, the single small window, the slanted rooftop...simply put, it wasn't exactly what he was expecting.
"…This is my home?"
His lips tugged into a slight frown. It was nothing compared to what he was used to in the real world. But he wasn't about to complain.
"There's a downside to every fantas." he thought.
Still, he shrugged and stepped forward.
"Let's get started."
However, just as his hand reached out for the door—
"Stevien!!"
He froze.
A high-pitched, overly feminine voice rang out across the air, loud and bright.
"Stevien?" he muttered under his breath, eyes squinting in confusion.
"What the hell is a stevien—"
But before he could even finish his thought, his head jerked to the side, following the source of the voice.
THUD.
"Ugh—!"
Warmth slammed into his chest. Arms wrapped tight around his torso, and two massive, jiggling pillows flattened against his body.
Soft.
Supple.
His back hit the ground.
The embrace was strong—stronger than expected—and he blinked, disoriented.
But the feeling…
"The hell—?!"
His eyes lowered.
There they were.
Big, heavy breasts pressed tight against his chest. Barely held back by thin cloth. He could feel the nipples through the fabric, grazing his skin. The soft mounds squished into him with a weight that was downright sinful.
And upon sighting this, his cheeks turned crimson.
'Oh my…' his thoughts trailed off as his pupils widened.
Then, further down—
She was straddling him.
And she had a thick, juicy ass.
'I can barely breathe...but.' he thought, eyes locked on her bouncing cleavage as she adjusted herself.
'...Damn… she's stacked as fuck....'
***
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