Chapter 1: Chapter 1 — My First Milf
Hello, my name is Harold Pitt. I used to be your typical gray office worker who spent his time insulting strangers on the internet to blow off steam.
But now... now I’m in another world, accompanied by a sexy purple-haired MILF and an overwhelming power.
We met just a week ago. I appeared out of nowhere in a forest near the Mouka Kingdom.
At first I was completely confused; the last thing I remembered was going to sleep after arguing like an idiot on a subreddit about the balance of a skill from a character in an old anime—it was pretty normal for me to argue with teenagers just because they didn’t understand the power system of The Infinite Burst, an anime that had been airing since the 70s.
Well, I used to fall for the rage-bait from some idiots on Reddit a lot.
Though to be honest, I was a real moron—I won’t deny that.
The twist came when a goblin attacked me. Trying to defend myself, I ended up killing it purely by accident with a sharp rock.
And immediately, I unlocked the "Infinite Gacha System."
It still makes me laugh to remember how I slipped, stabbed the goblin, and suddenly my vision filled with floating fireworks while the system activated.
The AI explained to me that my new function was to summon powerful warriors to help me level up in this hostile world.
Of course, I didn’t think twice.
"Can I summon waifus?" I asked without a shred of shame.
The system, unfazed, asked me what type I preferred.
Immediately, my Earth neighbor came to mind: a single mother in her forties who looked incredible.
We used to chat sometimes and, fuck, she was a genuine goddess.
"MILFs!" I exclaimed.
The system spun a virtual roulette wheel and, from the flashes of light, emerged an imposing woman in a green dress, purple hair, and violet eyes.
She had a dazzling G-cup; she was identical to my neighbor, but a thousand times more beautiful.
My nerves completely betrayed me. She locked her gaze on me and asked if I was her master.
I didn’t know what to answer. I froze for several seconds, completely hypnotized by her beauty.
"Y-yes..." I stammered, feeling my mouth go completely dry as I gazed at her.
To my surprise, that imposing woman with dangerous curves and a violet gaze knelt on the ground before me.
Her green dress molded to her figure as she bowed her head in a solemn reverence.
"My name is Samira Skillar," she announced. Her voice had a melodic cadence, but strangely distant.
The system immediately displayed a floating screen above her: 5-Star Spiritist. A maximum-level summon.
At first, I must admit her attitude disappointed me a little; she moved and spoke with the cold rigidity of an NPC from a generic RPG.
However, that robotic aura soon crumbled completely when I tried to take advantage of my status as "master."
"Hey, Samira... could you cook something for me? Oh, and I also need you to wash my clothes," I said casually, scratching the back of my head.
She didn’t protest. During the first few days, she followed my orders in sepulchral silence.
But her patience reached its limit quickly when she realized the painful reality: her summoner was a complete useless idiot.
She approached me with a firm step, stopping just inches from me.
Her impressive G-cup chest rose and fell with a deep breath before she crossed her arms, fixing me with a stern but strangely maternal gaze.
"Master... stop being so fucking useless and learn to wash your own clothes," she said, in a dangerously kind tone that made my skin crawl.
I glanced sideways at the pathetic pile of garments piling up next to my sleeping bag.
I only had the Calvin Klein boxer briefs, the shorts, and the T-shirt with the "I Love You Link Click" logo with which I had been summoned to this damned world.
The only extra things were some rough hides we had acquired after defeating a red boar, thanks to her doing all the dirty work.
"The thing is... I don’t know how to do it," I confessed, shrugging and looking away. "On Earth, I never washed a single piece of clothing myself. I used to take everything to the laundromat around the corner from my apartment."
Samira narrowed her eyes, visibly irritated.
"And cooking?" she asked, raising a purple eyebrow.
"Well... I used to order food by phone. McDonald’s, pizza, you know."
The expression she made at that moment pierced my soul. It was a grimace of absolute disappointment; the living image of a mother who has just discovered that her twenty-something son is a complete failure with no future.
That was the end of my days as a king. Over the following forty-eight hours, Samira took it upon herself to teach me to fend for myself through pure military discipline.
She not only forced me to scrub my boxers in the river, but also began a Spartan physical training regimen.
The sessions basically consisted of her giving me brutal beatings to "awaken my combat reflexes," followed by theoretical lessons on spiritist magic.
"Spiritual magic is not like the crude mana that ordinary mages in this world use," she explained one afternoon, sitting imposingly on a rock. "It works strictly on the basis of contracts with spirits. But to harbor their energy, you must first purify yourself."
To help me develop my magical core, Samira placed her hands directly on my chest.
The wave of heat was so intense that I fell to my knees on the ground.
I spent the next two hours sweating buckets and vomiting a black, viscous liquid that smelled of pure sulfur.
Just when I felt like I was going to die, a warm, purifying current began to flow through my veins, swirling in my chest until it consolidated into a vortex of ether—the magical energy exclusive to spiritists.
When I regained consciousness, the change was brutal. I felt my body light, and the forest air, which had previously seemed normal to me, now felt dense, heavy, and charged with an invisible vitality.
"Your world of origin is too contaminated by those impurities," Samira commented, wiping my forehead with a cloth. "Your body was full of spiritual toxins. Now that your core is forged, you can see reality."
...
The following days became much more bearable. Samira went from giving me beatings to teaching me the fundamentals for summoning minor lesser spirits.
After hours of concentration and ridiculous chants that made me feel like a chunibyo, I managed to seal my first contract with a small floating flame.
When I looked up, I saw Samira smile.
God... her smile was the most beautiful and dazzling thing I had ever seen in my life. In that instant, I knew I would endure a thousand more beatings just to see her like that again.
However, overconfidence caught up with me on the sixth day.
We came face to face with a large green ogre in the middle of a clearing.
It stood over two and a half meters tall, with hypertrophied muscles and a dislocated jaw full of fangs.
Upon seeing it, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing; it was identical to a greenskin from Warhammer 40k.
The bastard swung a huge club while roaring loudly.
"Whakk, I’m gonna kill you! Whakk!" the beast bellowed in a cavernous voice.
"It’s an Orc from Games Workshop!" I shouted between laughs, completely distracted by the absurdity of the situation.
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