The man, in his late twenties, hummed softly to a catchy tune playing from his phone as he stirred a pot of Japanese curry simmering on the stove. The faint aroma of spices filled the small, cluttered kitchen.
With a grimace, he scratched at the waistband of his black shorts, the only piece of clothing he had on.
"Ugh, this summer's brutal," he muttered under his breath, feeling the heat cling to his skin.
Letting out a low grunt, he set the spatula down, and with slow, tired movements, gathered his long, unruly black hair into a loose ponytail.
He rubbed his chin, feeling the prickly hairs of his unshaven stubble. Another yawn escaped him, his exhaustion evident in his heavy-lidded eyes.
"I really need a bath... maybe hit the public bathhouse later," he sighed, speaking to no one in particular.
"Save money and water, right?" His voice trailed off as if trying to convince himself of the logic.
He glanced at the pot, a hint of concern crossing his face. "Alright, you're my meal for the whole week... don't let me down, okay? No spoiling before I even get a chance to enjoy you."
After a final stir, he grabbed his phone, silenced the music, and flicked the stove off.
Without a second thought, he shuffled toward the bed in the next room, collapsing onto it with a tired groan. His body sunk into the mattress, and he let out a long breath, closing his eyes.
Matt, twenty-eight and now unemployed, had hit rock bottom only three months ago. The company he worked for had gone bankrupt, and just like that, he was left adrift, jobless and unsure of his next steps.
Since then, he'd been on the hunt for work, but so far, no one had called him back.
Money was tight—almost nonexistent, really. And much of what he'd saved was long gone, spent on his otaku passion.
Figurines, posters, keychains, and a mountain of 'waifu' merch filled his room, leaving little room for practicality.
His gaze drifted to his most prized possession, the dakimakura of his beloved anime waifu. Hugging the long pillow, Matt let out a soft, desperate whine.
"Ritsuki-chan... what am I gonna do?" His voice cracked slightly as he squeezed the pillow closer to his chest.
"There's no way I'm selling you or the others. I can't live without you!"
His grip tightened, as though clutching the pillow could somehow stop the flood of anxieties from crashing in.
His eyes wandered over the room, the shelves crammed with figurines, posters covering every inch of wall space, and his gaming rig humming softly in the corner.
It was his sanctuary, his escape from a world that didn't understand him.
But tonight, something was different. Another yawn came, but this one was deeper, heavier. His head began to spin, a dizzy, disorienting feeling creeping in.
The room around him started to blur, but his tired mind didn't register the danger.
With a final sigh, he buried his face into the dakimakura and drifted off, unaware that the gas leaking from the stove would make sure he wouldn't wake again.
.
.
.
Matt's eyes flickered open, but instead of his familiar room, he was met with the face of an unbelievably beautiful woman.
Her long silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, glowing softly in the dim light.
Her large, glimmering blue eyes were enchanting, almost too vivid to be real, and there was a strange golden ring in each iris that only added to their allure.
She smiled tenderly, touching his forehead with a delicate hand. "Oh, my son," she whispered, her voice soft and warm.
"I can finally see you after nine long months. Welcome to the world, darling." She leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on his tiny forehead.
Matt blinked, utterly confused. He couldn't react, couldn't even speak. In fact, his whole body felt… off. Weirdly light, like it wasn't his at all.
'What the hell is this? Am I dreaming?'
He thought, attempting to move his arms—or at least, what should be his arms—but nothing responded.
'Why can't I move?! What kind of messed-up dream is this?'
He tried again, twitching his body, but it only made him feel more helpless.
'Ugh! What the—?! I'm stuck!'
Frustrated, he gave up, letting his gaze rest on the ethereal woman hovering above him.
There was something so perfect, almost anime-like, about her, yet she looked incredibly real.
'Well… as far as dreams go, this one ain't half bad,' he thought, eyeing the woman's porcelain-like skin and perfectly styled silver hair.
'Wait… did she say son? So, I'm her kid?'
He blinked a few more times, processing. 'Damn… what a dream. Might as well roll with it.'
"Honey, what should we name him?"
The woman asked suddenly, her face turning toward a man who had just walked into view.
He had sharp features, golden hair, and stormy gray eyes. He looked like he had just stepped out of a fantasy novel.
'Holy crap, that dude looks like a freakin' prince,' Matt thought, looking in awe.
The prince-like man gazed down at him, tilting his head. "Hmm… since he has black hair, why don't we call him Claude?" His tone was dripping with sarcasm.
'Wait… black hair? Claude? Doesn't that name mean 'lame' or 'cripled'?' Matt squinted internally, baffled.
'Sure, that name isn't supposed to be bad, but come on, man!'
The woman's eyes darted nervously, and she smiled awkwardly.
"W-What do you mean? He has his grandfather's hair!" she protested, clearly trying to smooth things over.
Matt's mind suddenly clicked. 'Oh man, I'm the bastard child, aren't I? She cheated on him!'
He sighed internally. 'Whatever, it's just a dream. Not my problem!'
The man's smirk deepened. "Exactly. That's why the name suits him perfectly, doesn't it?"
His words were laced with a subtle jab, and the woman's face fell.
"Fine," she muttered, her voice soft with sadness.
"Whatever his name is, I'll always love him."
She kissed Matt—now apparently named Claude—gently on the forehead, but there was a hint of sorrow in her eyes as she watched her husband leave the room.
She turned her attention back to Matt, her fingers gently tracing his tiny nose with a loving smile.
'Wow… she's really beautiful,' Matt thought, feeling a little guilty for admiring her so much.
'Even more beautiful than Ritsuki… Wait! No! I can't cheat on Ritsuki!'
But before his thoughts could spiral further, the woman's expression turned worried.
"But why aren't you crying like other babies? Is my little Claude alright?"
Her worried blue eyes tugged at Matt's heart. 'Should I cry? I mean, I guess I should… for her sake.'
Just as he was about to force himself to cry, she spoke again, making him freeze.
"Maybe you're just thirsty? Do you want some of Mommy's milk?" she asked sweetly, unbuttoning her top to reveal her generously sized chest.
Matt's eyes went wide as saucers. 'HOLY CRAP! HOLY CRAP! THAT'S THE BIGGEST TITS I'VE EVER SEEN!!'
Her… assets were enormous, easily an E-cup, and they seemed to defy gravity as they hovered inches from his face.
'MY GOD! I HAVE TO SUCK THOSE?!'
Matt's mind raced in circles, both panicking and rejoicing at the same time.
His internal screaming reached a fever pitch as she moved closer, and before he knew it, instinct took over.
His baby lips latched onto her breast, and he began to drink.
The taste of the milk was unexpectedly sweet, almost like a creamy dessert. 'This is actually… amazing.'
Unable to resist, his tiny baby hands grabbed at her chest, squeezing softly as he continued to nurse.
'This dream better never end.'
Matt's mind buzzed with pleasure as he nursed away, thoroughly enjoying his bizarre dream.
'Forget everything—this is peak life right here.'