I cracked my eyes open and sank deeper into a bed so soft and luxurious it felt like sin itself—definitely not mine. Confusion slammed into me like cold water. This wasn't my room. Towering ceilings, rich velvet drapes, and gilded furniture gleamed in the low morning light, screaming wealth and something far more dangerous: I had no idea where the hell I was.
A fierce surge of energy flooded my veins, every muscle humming with raw vitality I'd never felt before. My heart hammered as curiosity—and something hotter—drove my hand beneath the sheets. I tugged my pants down just enough. My breath hitched hard. My cock was *huge* now, thick and heavy, far beyond anything I'd known, already raging with aggressive morning wood. It throbbed in my palm like a living thing, veins pulsing, the swollen head slick and demanding. If I didn't drain this beast soon, the ache would torture me for hours. Even jerking off would leave my arms numb long before I could finally explode.
I tried to ignore it. I really did. But the insistent throb only grew crueler. Minutes later I shoved the covers aside, stood, and shot a glance at the heavy door—solid oak, bolted shut from the outside. Locked. Trapped. A fresh spike of unease twisted low in my gut, sharpening the fire already burning between my legs. No escape. No help. Just me… and this body.
With shaking hands I stripped—t-shirt, pants, everything—until I stood completely naked in the center of the lavish room. My massive cock swung heavily, twitching on its own, a thick bead of precum already dripping down the shaft. I wrapped my fingers around its perfect girth, hot and velvet-steel, and started stroking. Slow at first, savoring the glide, then finding that sweet, medium rhythm that made my hips jerk forward on their own. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my core, balls drawing up, every nerve screaming for release. Ten minutes became fifteen. My arm burned, muscles screaming, but the edge stayed maddeningly out of reach—always rising, never breaking.
"Fuck…" I growled through gritted teeth, pumping harder, desperate. My vision blurred with need, sweat prickling my skin, but still nothing. Finally my arm went completely numb. I let go with a ragged groan. My cock sprang free, angry and glistening, bouncing heavily as it throbbed in protest, still rock-hard and leaking.
I stared down at the monster between my legs, chest heaving. "This thing needs a real, tight, dripping pussy wrapped around it… right fucking now."
Heart pounding with raw, unresolved lust and the growing mystery of this locked paradise, I stalked toward the towering mirror on the far wall—ready to face exactly what I had become.
My bare feet carried me straight to the towering mirror. I stopped dead in front of it, completely naked, chest still heaving from the ruined orgasm that never came. My monstrous cock hung heavy between my legs, angry, veined, and still leaking a slow, obscene string of precum onto the priceless rug. It twitched visibly in the reflection, refusing to soften even an inch. Perfect.
I stared.
Disbelief punched me square in the gut.
The man looking back wasn't me. Not even close.
Early twenties at most. Flawless, smooth skin glowing like polished marble under the morning light. Lean, sculpted muscles — not bulky, but every line carved with aristocratic perfection, like a living statue of some ancient war god. Sharp jaw, high cheekbones, full lips curled in a natural, dangerous smirk. And those eyes… deep, bottomless black pools that seemed to swallow the light. I looked like a noble devil. The kind of man who could ruin kingdoms with a single glance… or a single thrust.
A low, shaky laugh escaped my throat. "Holy fuck…"
But the longer I stared, the more the room started to spin.
A few minutes later the fragments hit me like glass shards behind my eyes.
Reincarnated.
Fantasy world.
Duke's fifth son.
The memories weren't flooding in — they were crawling, clawing their way through my skull one agonizing piece at a time. Past-life flashes mixed with new ones: marble halls, silk banners, the weight of a noble name I didn't yet fully own. My head throbbed harder with every second. The merge was nowhere near complete. Until it was, I was stuck in this half-blind state — naked, horny as hell, and trapped in a body that wasn't mine yet.
Then the real panic slammed into me.
What if I'm not even a true son?
What if Mother was just some maid the Duke fucked on a drunken night? Or worse… a courtesan? In this world, bastards didn't get fancy locked bedrooms. They got silenced. Disowned. Or quietly eliminated before they could embarrass the bloodline.
My pulse exploded. Sweat broke across my new, perfect chest. My cock — still painfully hard — gave a violent throb as if the fear itself was turning me on. I squeezed my eyes shut and desperately rifled through the fractured memories, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
Please… please don't let me be a mistake…
Then one crystal-clear image finally surfaced.
A woman in gleaming silver armor, holy runes blazing across her breastplate, a massive sword resting on her shoulder like it weighed nothing. Radiating power. Revered. Untouchable.
Mother.
A fucking Holy Knight.
I exhaled so hard my knees almost buckled. Relief flooded me like cool water, but it didn't kill the tension coiled in my gut. Not even close.
I was still naked. Still painfully, obscenely erect. Still locked inside a stranger's luxurious prison. And the slow, torturous merge of two lifetimes was only just beginning.
I stared at the devil in the mirror, voice a rough whisper.
"…Now what the hell do I do with you?"
My reflection grinned back like a devil who already knew too much. My cock gave another thick, impatient throb, a fresh bead of precum rolling down the shaft and dripping onto the cold stone floor. I ignored it — barely.
A few minutes later the question sliced through the haze.
Where the fuck am I right now?
Mother's knight fortress… or Father's gilded mansion?
The moment I asked, the memories answered — but they didn't flow. They clawed. Sharp, jagged pieces ripping through my skull like broken glass. I winced, gripping the edge of the mirror, knuckles white. My head pounded harder, vision flickering, while my traitor cock just kept pulsing, as if the pain itself was turning me on.
Father. Five wives. Four cold, perfect noblewomen bought with treaties and bloodlines. Then Mother — the exception. The Holy Knight. Married purely for alliance, same as the others. Nothing more. I was born the fifth son in that loveless web… and then she left.
Divorced the Duke the day after my birth. Took me with her. Married her true love — another knight, a man whose name still tasted like steel and thunder in my fractured mind. Gave him twin sons.
I counted on my fingers, staring at my own reflection like a madman.
Two older brothers. Two older sisters — all from Father's side, all fighting tooth and nail for his title and fortune.
Two younger half-brothers from Mother's side — the true heirs to her holy legacy.
Six. I held up six fingers at the mirror, breath ragged. Six half-siblings who would kill for what I was handed without asking.
And the worst part? I couldn't inherit shit.
Last-born to Father — useless for the ducal line once he already had two strong sons. And Mother's twins had already locked down her knightly bloodline. I was the spare who belonged to neither throne… yet both parents still claimed me.
A slow, dangerous smile crept across my new face.
I had Duke-level money and connections without the target on my back. I had a Holy Knight mother's iron protection without having to swing a sword for it. I was the ultimate rich second-generation parasite — all I had to do was breathe and not fuck up. One scandal, one public disgrace, and both of them could erase me like I never existed.
The smile faltered. My stomach twisted.
Because now the final memory clicked into place.
I wasn't in Father's silk-and-gold mansion.
This was Mother's fortress.
Stone walls thick enough to survive sieges. Holy runes glowing faintly on every surface. The distant clang of training swords and the low chant of knightly prayers echoing somewhere far below. She'd taken me the day she walked out on the Duke — her firstborn, her only child with him. And the Duke had let her. He already had his precious male heirs; why fight over one extra mouth?
I was deep inside a holy military stronghold… naked, cock still raging and dripping, memories only half-merged, and the heavy oak door still bolted from the outside.
No escape.
No release.
And if a maid or — gods forbid — one of Mother's elite knights walked in right now and saw me like this…
My reflection's dark eyes burned with a mix of fear and filthy excitement.
"…Shit."