* I am writing it all new. Same story with a bit different plot. ***I can't get anything from we novel now that they blocked me from applying for a contract. So I will still write it if you guys love it or like to pay for it. For now enjoy 20 episodes for free** from now on the story will change.
**Midnight.**
Arjun woke in the dark, the sheets still carrying the faint scent of jasmine, sweat, and sex. The memory of Kajal's body—wet, open, trembling under him in the shower—replayed in perfect clarity. His cock stirred. He almost reached for her again.
Almost.
He stopped himself.
Something felt wrong. Or too right. He still didn't understand why he was here, why this body, why this life. But the truth was simple: he was enjoying it. Any man who woke up with a mother like Kajal would have done the same. Or worse.
His eyes drifted to the faint glow still lingering in the corner of his vision.
**DesireLink**
First objective: Complete.
Reward available.
He opened it.
**Reward: Fate Edit – One-time use.**
*You may rewrite a single core truth of your existence.
Warning: Acceptance will permanently sever the DesireLink connection.
The app will not return.*
Arjun stared at the text for a long time.
No inheritance of some other man's life. No forced body. Just the power to change his own fate—once.
He accepted.
The interface dissolved into pure white light.
A single prompt appeared in his mind, cold and absolute:
**Speak the new truth.**
He did not hesitate.
"My father was ordinary height. My real mother stood like a demoness. From them I inherited monstrous height. People fear me on sight. Women look at me and already imagine being taken by me. My scent is pure nectar—anyone who breathes it wants me. I can satisfy anyone completely. I can impregnate only those I choose. Every time I spend my seed inside a womb I grow stronger. My destiny is to learn every secret and adapt to every phenomenon that exists."
The light swallowed the words.
When it faded, the DesireLink interface was gone forever.
And the world had already begun to change around him.
---
He stood in a vast chamber lit by floating candles and the soft glow of arcane runes. The air smelled of old stone, incense, and something sharper—anticipation.
Before him stood a woman who could only be a queen.
Candice.
Her face was oval and balanced, warm-toned skin glowing under candlelight. Large, dark, thoughtful eyes watched him with quiet intensity. Full lips, muted deep red. A thin nose ring. Hoop earrings. Long, wavy dark-brown hair that fell around her shoulders in deliberate disarray.
She wore a gown of deep emerald velvet embroidered with gold filigree and faintly glowing arcane symbols. The structured corset cinched her waist; the layered skirts trailed behind her like mist. A thin gold circlet rested on her brow, a single moonstone set at its center.
She drew a slow breath. Exhaustion and urgency warred in her voice.
"You are our last hope," she said. "A plague has swept our lands. Every man and boy is dead. I am the only woman left who can still bear children. Without a partner, our line ends."
She gestured toward the ornate throne behind her.
"The magicians performed a ritual and pulled you from another world. You are strong. Healthy. A man in his prime." Her gaze traveled over him with open appreciation. "We need you to father children with me. To keep our people alive."
She stepped closer. Her fingers brushed his arm.
"In return you will have wealth beyond measure. Lands. Titles. Power. You will stand second only to me. And you will have me—nights of passion and ecstasy I will make certain you never forget."
Her voice dropped to a velvet whisper near his ear.
"Will you accept this duty? Will you save us… and share my throne?"
Arjun felt the new truth already working inside him. He was taller than he had any right to be. The air around him carried a scent that made her pupils dilate even as she tried to remain regal. Her body language had already shifted—open, inviting, almost hungry.
He answered with deliberate coldness.
"Seducing is easy these days, isn't it? I don't need your wealth. I don't need your titles. And I certainly don't need you. Do you really think I'll simply arrive and plant my seed because you asked nicely?"
The words came out sharper than he intended—almost scripted. He frowned. Something still pulled at his tongue.
Candice's lips curved in a small, amused smile.
"Negotiation, then," she corrected softly. "I hoped you would agree. I did not expect it." She studied him. "You have principles. Good."
She moved to the large bed and sat on the edge, patting the space beside her.
"Come. Sit. The wealth is not only for you. It is for the children. So they want for nothing."
"No." His voice rose. "I want to go back. I have dreams of my own. I have a mother waiting for me. Send me back. Now."
Even as he spoke the words, part of him knew they were not entirely his.
Candice's expression softened.
"Your mother," she repeated gently. "Of course. But consider: the fortune I offer could keep her in luxury for the rest of her life. And our children would be your legacy—a new family."
She rose and stood before him.
"The ritual can only be performed once every hundred years. You are here now. Perhaps this is fate."
Arjun's eyes stung without his permission.
"I had dreams. Falling in love. A wife who loved me back. What am I supposed to do with this?"
Candice's hands came to rest on his chest.
"What if those dreams could still come true here? You could fall in love with me. I could learn to love you. A queen who adores you. Children who carry your blood. Your mother provided for. You would want for nothing."
She leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment, then looked up, eyes shining with sincerity.
"I won't be seduced," he said, but his body already betrayed him. The scent he now carried had thickened the air. Candice's breathing had grown shallower. His cock was hard and heavy against the fabric of his trousers.
She laughed softly—musical, knowing.
"Seduce you? My dear, it is already too late. You are here. In my chambers. In my world."
She removed the circlet and set it aside. Her fingers worked the laces of the gown. Velvet slid from her shoulders, revealing smooth pale skin and the thin chemise beneath that clung to every curve.
"Perhaps I should show you what you will be missing."
Arjun forced the conversation elsewhere.
"You said every man and boy is dead. The magician is an old woman. What about the other women?"
Candice's playful tone faded. She walked to the window and drew the heavy curtains aside, revealing twilight.
"They cope. Many have turned to one another for comfort. Some have formed new households. But there are no children. No future." She turned back. "That is why you are here. Why I need you."
She took his hand.
"What if whatever killed the men of this world kills me too?"
Her grip tightened.
"Impossible. The plague only touched men of this world. You are from another reality. The magicians made certain you are immune."
She pressed closer. The thin chemise did nothing to hide the heat of her body.
"What about our children?" he asked. "Will they inherit the same vulnerability?"
Candice hesitated. For the first time her confidence cracked.
"We do not know. They will be half of this world and half of yours. Perhaps that will protect them. We must try. It is the only way to learn."
She rose onto her toes, lips nearly brushing his.
"Let me give you a son who carries both our bloodlines."
Her body was flush against his now—soft, warm, trembling with need.
Arjun exhaled slowly, frustration and something darker mixing in his chest.
"You're in a hurry. Hormones, probably. I need time. This is… difficult."
Candice stepped back, visibly forcing herself to breathe.
"You're right. My body aches to be filled, to carry new life. This is not the night you expected when you closed your eyes. But this is your reality now."
She sat on the edge of the bed again and held out her hand.
"Come. Sit with me. Let me hold you. Let us grow used to each other slowly. Just… let me touch you."
The air between them was thick with the scent he now carried—nectar and promise. Candice's pupils were wide. Her thighs pressed together under the chemise.
Arjun looked at the offered hand.
The app was gone.
The fate edit was complete.
And the world had already begun to bend around the new truth he had spoken.
**Six years later.**
In the other world, six full years had passed.
Arjun stood at the edge of the great bed, the chamber lit only by dying candlelight. Candice lay naked beneath him—queen no longer in anything but name. Her body was soft and heavy with the life she had carried for him again and again. Five children. Five times he had chosen to leave his seed inside her. Each time he had felt the quiet, addictive surge of strength the fate-edit had promised.
He leaned down and kissed her—slow, deep, final.
When he pulled away she was already half-asleep, lips parted, one hand still resting on his chest.
"I'll return," he said.
Then the world folded.
---
He opened his eyes in the small bedroom he had left only moments before.
The clock on the wall showed that exactly one minute had passed.
Kajal was still asleep beside him, the sheets tangled around her bare hips. The scent of their earlier fucking still clung to the air—jasmine, sweat, and the faint metallic note of spent seed. She looked peaceful. Soft. Completely unaware that her son had lived six years in another reality while she dreamed.
Arjun sat up.
The fate-edit had already rewritten him. He was taller than any man had a right to be—monstrous, broad-shouldered, the kind of height that made people step back without knowing why. His scent filled the room the moment he moved: warm, thick, impossible to ignore. Even in sleep Kajal's nostrils flared and her thighs shifted under the sheet.
He looked at her breasts.
They were full, heavy, the nipples still faintly marked from his mouth earlier that night. A thin, pearly bead of milk had formed at the tip of the left one—something that had never happened before the edit.
He didn't ask permission.
He leaned down, took the soft weight of her breast in one large hand, and closed his mouth over the nipple.
Kajal's eyes fluttered open with a soft, confused sound.
"Arjun…?"
He sucked.
Warm, sweet milk flooded his tongue. She gasped, back arching, one hand flying up to cup the back of his head as if to push him away—then tightening instead, holding him there.
"What are you—ah—doing…?"
He answered by switching to the other breast, drawing hard, greedy pulls that made fresh milk spill across his tongue and down the corner of his mouth. Her free hand clutched the sheets. Her hips began to rock helplessly.
When both breasts were leaking and her breathing had turned ragged, he rose over her.
The sheet was shoved aside. Her legs parted without conscious thought—the scent of him already working deeper than any words could. He lined the thick head of his cock against her still-slick entrance and pushed in slowly, inch by deliberate inch, watching her face as she stretched around him again.
Kajal's mouth fell open in a long, broken moan.
"You're… bigger," she whispered, eyes wide, pupils blown. "How are you—oh god—"
He didn't answer. He simply began to fuck her—slow, deep, rolling thrusts that dragged every ridge of his cock along her walls. Each time he bottomed out he stayed there for a heartbeat, letting her feel the impossible size of him, the heat, the way her body was already trying to milk him.
Milk continued to leak from her nipples with every thrust, painting pale streaks across her chest and his. He bent and licked it away, then sucked again, never stopping the steady rhythm of his hips.
Kajal's hands clutched at his shoulders, his back, his ass—anything she could reach. Her legs locked around his waist. Soft, helpless sounds spilled from her throat with every stroke.
"My baby… my big, greedy boy… using mommy like this…"
He fucked her slower still, deeper, grinding against her clit on every inward push until her whole body started to shake. The new scent of him filled her lungs with every breath. Her cunt fluttered and clenched, already climbing toward another orgasm she had no power to refuse.
Outside the window the night remained quiet.
Kajal's orgasm hit her hard and sudden.
Her back arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from her throat as her pussy clamped down around him in rhythmic, desperate pulses. Milk sprayed from both nipples in thin arcs, wetting his chest and the sheets. She shook through it, legs locked tight around his waist, nails dragging red lines down his back.
Arjun never stopped moving.
He fucked her through the climax, slow and deep, dragging every aftershock out of her until she was whimpering and oversensitive. Only when her grip loosened did he pull out—his cock glistening, thick, and still painfully hard.
Kajal lay panting, eyes glassy, breasts rising and falling, thin streams of milk still leaking down the soft curves of her chest.
He sat back on his heels for a moment, simply looking at her.
The fate-edit had rewritten more than his height and scent. His cock was heavier now, denser, the kind of size that left a woman open and aching for hours after. A single bead of pre-cum welled at the tip and dropped onto her stomach.
Kajal's gaze followed it. Her tongue wet her lower lip.
"You're not finished," she whispered, voice raw.
"No."
He turned her onto her side, lifted her top leg, and slid back into her from behind in one long, smooth thrust. The new angle made her moan into the pillow. He reached around, cupped one heavy breast, and resumed the same unhurried rhythm—deep, rolling strokes that made the wet sound of their joining fill the quiet room.
Every few thrusts he squeezed her breast and more milk spilled over his fingers. He brought those fingers to her mouth. She sucked them clean without being told.
"Good girl," he murmured against the back of her neck.
Kajal shuddered.
He kept the pace deliberate. No rushing. No frantic pounding. Just the steady, relentless claim of a man who now understood exactly what his body could do. Her second orgasm built slower, deeper. When it broke she cried out again, softer this time, body twitching in his arms while her cunt fluttered and milked him.
Still he didn't finish.
He pulled out, flipped her onto her back once more, and pushed her thighs wide. The sight of her—flushed, open, milk-streaked, his earlier cum still slowly leaking from her—made something dark and satisfied settle in his chest.
He lined up and entered her again.
This time he leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth while he fucked her, drinking in long, greedy pulls. Kajal's hands tangled in his hair, holding him there, whispering broken praise and filthy encouragement between gasps.
"Drink… take it all… use mommy however you want… she's yours…"
Minutes stretched. The clock on the wall barely moved. Outside, the world remained frozen in the same quiet minute that had passed since he returned. Inside the bedroom, Arjun took his mother with the patience of a man who had already lived six years and still wanted more.
When he finally decided to finish, he drove deep, locked his hips against hers, and let the release tear through him. Thick, heavy pulses flooded her. He kept thrusting through it, forcing every drop as deep as it would go, while her body trembled and accepted it.
Even after he was spent he stayed buried inside her, mouth still gently nursing at her breast, one large hand spanning her soft stomach.
Kajal's fingers stroked his hair in slow, exhausted circles.
"My sweet, monstrous boy…" she whispered. "What have you become?"
Arjun didn't answer.
He simply sucked another mouthful of milk, ground his hips once more against hers, and felt the quiet, addictive surge of strength the fate-edit had promised every time he left his seed inside a womb he had chosen.
The night was far from over.
Only one minute had passed in this world.
Inside the bedroom, Arjun took his mother the way the fate he had rewritten demanded—slowly, thoroughly, and without mercy—while warm milk spilled across both their bodies and the last traces of the other world faded from his mind.