Ours is the Passion

The world of Ice and Fire is a place full of wonders. From the accomplishments of men like the great walls of Quarth, to the results of godly whims like fire-breathing dragons. So many things in this world can inspire awe in people. The only thing that certainly doesn’t, is the meager endowment of it’s male inhabitants. From the Dothraki horselords, to the pirates in the Summer Sea and from the shadowbinders of Asshai, to the knights and kings in Westeros, no man can pride himself with a cock of notable measurements. None of them except one.

This would not be an erotic story if there wasn’t one man, that by a twisted joke of nature is endowed with the right tool to turn this world upside down. Turn it upside down, one, maybe two women at a time. Possibly three, but that must be the maximum, doesn’t it? I guess four, if he uses his dick, both hands and goes down on a woman at the same time. Be that as it might, this one man, this ultimate stud, is Lyonel Baratheon.

From other tellings of this world, you dear reader might know a piece of human waste named Joffrey Baratheon. Be reassured, he is not part of this tale. In this alternate turn of events, Robert Baratheon did get to father Cercei Lannisters first child. The other two are still the results of her forbidden love to her brother. But this first child, Lyonel Baratheon, turned out like fine wine compared to the sour vinegar that would have been Joffrey. Lyonel still has some deviant tastes, but his are purely pleasurable in nature. He has inherited the strong build his father possessed in his prime, together with his black hair and blue eyes. The biggest difference between father and son (apart from Roberts current physique shaped by and gluttony) are about 8 inches where they count the most. Lyonel Baratheon is sprouting a stunning 10 inches of man-meat and has the girth to make them leave a lasting impact. While such an impressive tower of flesh would already be considered absolutely huge in our world, in this world it is straight-up outlandish. To reconnect with our beginning, it could be appropriately considered one of the supernatural wonders of this world.

Lyonel woke up when a bird chirped on his balcony. He had been through an uneasy night. The prior day had been the funeral of his mentor and his fathers Hand of the King, Jon Arryn. His had surprised most of the court. Even in his seventies, the Warden of the East had been as healthy as a man half his age and he had passed away in a single night, fallen victim to an unknown illness. Lyonel was not prone to grievance, but his dreams last night had been unpleasant to say the least. Jons words rang through his head and he tried and tried to make sense of it.

The seed is strong.

Jon Arryn was an expert in economical questions, but Lyonel doubted he was telling them to look out for a good harvest in the near future. Lysa, Jons wife, had claimed he meant to praise their son. A narrative Lyonel thought to be nothing more than wishful thinking. No one in their right mind would connect Robert Arryn and the concept of strength without putting in some form of negation.

A blinding light flashed before Lyonel Baratheons eyes, after which the beds occupant knew exactly what Jon Arryn meant by his last words. Not because he had an epiphany, but instead because the beds occupant was no longer Lyonel Baratheon. Not really. His meticulously sculptured body still remained, fear not, but unbeknownst to anyone of this world, the person inhabiting it had changed.

During this exact moment in a very different world, a man died. He will not be missed by many, for he was neither known let alone liked by many. You might call him a shut-in, a loner, a nerd, a loser (if you’re mean) and an otaku (if you’re from Japan). All of them would be somewhat adequate descriptions of him, but none of them do him justice. He lived a life of mediocracy and never amounted to much, but in his last moments he did good. Without consideration for his own well-being, he saved the life of a young family. There was no calculation behind it, he just saw the danger and acted on pure instinct to shield the innocent people from it. That costed him his life, but gained him a favour from the universe.

That favour came into play here. As a nerd in mind and a pervert at heart, the man was reborn, not in the mundane world that so carelessly mistreated him, but in the world he always read about. More precisely the erotically charged variant we now find ourselves in. And so our heroes merged together and became one. The life in the mundane world fades away, the old name, the old neighbours, the old job, all of those are left behind. Only his dreams, his ambitions and all those plans on how he wanted to treat his favourite and least favourite characters stay with him. How would he react to the memories he inherited from his new physical form? How will he deal wi-

“Hahaha, yes! Yes! Hahaha”, it burst from his lips. Seems like the transition between worlds is not that difficult to cope with if you never felt at home in the first place. The new Lyonel Baratheon looked at the room, at his hands and then down his body. Where his eyes lingered. The bed sheets laid messily strewn across the bed and didn’t cover his massive endowment, the memories of liking to sleep nude whenever the weather allowed it surfaced in his head. In a juvenile gesture he threw his head back and did an upward air punch. This will be his life now and he will make the best of it.

Lyonel stood up and toured his room. Although he also inherited the memories and knowledge of the prince, it never hurt to get himself more familiar with his surroundings. The room was lavishly decorated, befitting the royal heir. His massive four-poster bed dominated the room, on his nightstand were a chandelier, an ornate cup that he knew used to hold dornish wine and a list his previous self had been working on late last night. On the left of his bed the open balcony door blew a soft breeze his way. From his room in the Red Keep he had a tremendous view not only on the city of Kings Landing below him, but also on the ocean stretching into the distance. A distance in which, as Lyonel knew from his extensive knowledge about the fantasy books he devoured in his passed life, awaited a dragon queen.

Well, a future dragon queen, he reminded himself. If this was the point in time right after Jon Arryn died, then this is the very beginning of the events that unfolded. And this also isn’t exactly the world he invested so much energy in. He is dark haired and broad shouldered, it doesn’t need a genius to figure out that in this alternate world the heir to the throne is not a secret bastard this time. And from thinking about his siblings he also realized, that time has passed differently.

While in his favourite book series the heir to the throne was a measely twelve years old when the plot started, Lyonel was in fact 21. His little sister Myrcella had seen her 18th nameday earlier this year and their little brother Tommen would also soon hit that mark. A picture of Myrcella rushed through Lyonels mind and she was a far cry of the girl she was in the books and the teenager she was portrayed as in the adaptation. Myrcella is a stunning young woman. She has the youthful looks you’d expect from a teenager, but her emerald eyes give a hint of the mischievousness that lurk inside her. The same goes for her full and plump lips, but while her eyes, much like their mothers, could also mean your demise, her lips are the promise of passionate kisses and mischievousness in its most naughty variant.

Oh, if I didn’t love this universe already, I’d be head over heels now, Lyonel thought to himself and wondered if his “sister” had inherited the susceptibleness to “close familial relationships” his “mother” was prone to. It’s a long way from Kings Landing to Winterfell and he vowed to find out.

So he made his way to his dresser, picked out what he knew was one of his standard get-ups and dressed himself. The prince made his way to the nightstand to review the list “he” left off last night and found it to be his travel-preparations. Most were checked as completed and the only point that was unchecked and caught his attention was to “Bid farewell to B”.

My lover, it rang in his head. Ballandra, Bell to friends and him, was as raven-haired servant girl. A buxom woman around his own age with whom he had shared more than one tender kiss. In secret of course and, apart from a grope to her bosom, literally just kisses. Lyonel had strong feelings for her and she was a true beaty, doubly so for a common girl, but he was the next in line to the Iron Throne and his commitment to honour and duty had prohibited him from moving further and risk creating a bastard child. Thank the gods, the new Lyonel had knowledge on sexual practices that didn’t result in any offspring. Practices the old one had heard and fantasized about, but wouldn’t have dared to practice with a woman he was not married to, maybe not even then. Luckily, the new one didn’t have such quarrels and instead even the strong desire to sow the fertile fields that were the westerosi wombs.