From Diapers to Dominance: The First Steps

In the Old World… Breastfeeding Was Obsolete.

Arthur Carter, once a high-ranking officer with nerves of steel, was now faced with the most humiliating situation of his very brief (and very squishy) new life. With hunger gnawing at him, he tried desperately to wiggle his tiny, weak body away from the soft breast in front of him. Why?! Why am I like this? I've faced death, explosions, and life-threatening missions... but THIS is my breaking point?

Unfortunately, Mona—his new mother—had other plans. Her grip was firm, and let's face it, his muscles were about as effective as wet noodles. With no escape in sight, Arthur cursed whoever had reincarnated him into this cruel, diapered existence.

Either this, or I starve. He steeled his nerves. Alright. Fine. Let's just get it over with.

He latched on reluctantly, praying his former comrades couldn't see him now. Despite the initial wave of existential despair, the warm liquid began to calm his frayed baby nerves, reviving him like a shot of espresso. Well, this is... tolerable? I mean, conceptually it's still horrifying, but at least I'm not dead anymore. Good job, team baby.

As he drank, Arthur distracted himself with thoughts of his recent demise. He had definitely died—heroically, if he did say so himself. But where exactly was he now? Was this still Earth? Or had he been dumped into some random knockoff universe?

After what felt like an eternity, Arthur stopped drinking. His mother gently released him, smiling warmly as she cradled him close. Her red hair glinted softly in the sunlight, her plump, youthful features radiating care and love. Alright, Mona. You're forgiven for manhandling me into that situation.

Arthur was placed on what he assumed was the "bed," which was as luxurious as one might expect in a household seemingly made of dirt and dreams. He took a deep breath and evaluated his surroundings. Red hair, tanned skin, and extreme poverty vibes? Yep, this is definitely not my last world.

In His Past Life...

Extreme poverty? Obsolete by 2060. When Arthur died in 2090, even the laziest of humans had access to free food and housing courtesy of the Federation. Not that Arthur was a fan of it. Sure, it keeps people alive, but come on. Handouts? That's just a laziness factory in disguise. If only the bureaucratic morons would have let someone like him share his two cents. But no, fat politicians had other plans—ones that involved sweet-talking voters and growing their bellies.

Arthur scoffed at the memory. Next time around, I'll be the one giving orders. No more being someone else's pawn. I will NOT die following orders again! He clenched his tiny fists. I'll be a politician this time. Start small... maybe Tribe Leader first. Baby steps, right?

Somewhere in the Tribe:

Tribe Leader: "AAAAkshuuu! Someone must be talking about me…"

Months Later…

Nestled in the heart of a lush forest, the village buzzed with life. The air carried the scent of earth and foliage, mingled with the constant background music of rustling leaves. Despite the seeming serenity, ten-month-old Arun—a name lovingly bestowed on Arthur in this new life—was scowling as he poked around the central area.

"Don't go far, Arun! It's dangerous outside the village," Mona called out, her voice tinged with maternal concern.

Arun barely spared her a glance, waving dismissively with his chubby hand. "Don't worry, Mom. I'm just exploring!" He tried to sound innocent, but his confident tone betrayed the mind of a man who'd once negotiated with terrorists.

It's been almost a year since my rebirth, Arthur mused. Over time, the reality of his new life had solidified: Yep. Definitely not Earth. This was a whole new planet—or maybe even a different universe entirely. The living conditions were brutal, the mortality rate staggering, and diseases that modern medicine had eradicated were thriving here. Fun times ahead.

Worst of all, though? The food.

Having only recently graduated from breastfeeding (a moment of silence for my suffering), Arthur had been thrilled to finally eat solid food. That excitement evaporated after his first bite. Tasteless. Bland. Did no one here even know about seasoning? Where's the garlic? The chilies? The BIRYANI?

Even the memories of his favorite foods felt cruel now. Each bowl of unseasoned mush was like a slap to his former foodie soul. If this world doesn't have spices, I swear I'll revolt. I'll teach them myself if I have to.

"Arun! Lunch is ready!" Mona's cheerful voice broke his spiraling thoughts.

Arthur sighed dramatically, turning toward the source of the call. Let me guess: more tasteless mush. Yay.

As Arthur trudged back to his home, he made a solemn vow: I might be starting at rock bottom, but mark my words, this tribe is going to see some upgrades. Hygiene, spices... oh, and maybe some weapons too. Just the basics.

Nestled deep within the arms of an ancient, sprawling forest, the tribe's village seemed to harmonize with its surroundings. Towering trees with gnarled roots stretched skyward, their canopies forming a lush green ceiling that dappled the valley in shifting patterns of light and shadow. The air carried a sweet, earthy scent, mingling with the distant murmur of a bubbling stream that traced its way along the valley's floor. The valley itself was a haven, encased by rugged cliffs and dense vegetation, isolating the tribe from the outside world and the passage of time.

The village was simple, made up of earthen huts with thatched roofs that blended seamlessly into the natural landscape. Paths worn smooth by bare feet wove between the homes, dotted with clusters of clay pots and woven baskets filled with foraged berries and herbs. Life here was dictated by the rhythms of nature—the tribe rose with the sun, worked the land, and honored the spirits of the forest that provided for them.

Within one of these modest huts, Arun, barely a year old, sat cross-legged on a woven mat. His small frame hunched slightly as he struggled to chew on the coarse, unseasoned stew his mother had prepared.

"Come on, Arun," his mother urged gently, her voice soft but firm. "You need to eat to grow strong."

Arun grimaced, managing to swallow a bite with visible effort. "It's... it's not tasty, Mom," he said in his tiny voice, his expression a mix of frustration and discomfort.

His mother sighed, a weary smile forming on her lips. She placed a comforting hand on his back. "I know, little one. Life here doesn't always give us what we want, but we make do with what we have."

Her words hung in the air, both a reminder of the harsh realities they faced and an attempt to console her young son. Arun nodded slightly, though his mind wandered elsewhere.

Sigh... This is so different from the world I came from, he thought. Food was something to enjoy there. Here, it's just... survival.

Outside the hut, the muffled sounds of the tribe's daily life drifted in—a group of hunters returning with their modest catch, children laughing as they chased each other barefoot, and the occasional clink of tools against stone.

His mother stirred the pot over the small fire, her brow furrowed in concentration. "We'll find something better next season," she said, more to herself than to Arun, though her voice carried a faint hope.

Arun looked up at her, studying the lines of her face. Despite her tired eyes, there was a strength in her gaze that struck him. "Mom, you're doing your best, aren't you?" he asked softly, surprising her with the maturity in his tone.

Her eyes widened briefly before she chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Of course, Arun. I always will—for you."

He smiled faintly but returned his focus to the food in front of him, taking another determined bite. If she can endure all this, so can I.

Beyond their hut, the forest loomed, ancient and watchful, its dense canopy whispering secrets that only time itself could understand. The valley embraced the tribe, as if shielding them from the vast unknowns beyond. For Arun, even in the struggle, there was hope—a flicker of determination to adapt to this world and navigate the challenges it presented.

As night descended upon the ancient valley, the tribe's village fell silent, save for the distant chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Inside their modest hut, Arun lay on a simple bed of woven grass and animal hides, staring at the flickering shadows cast by the dim firelight on the walls.

Though his body ached with the weariness of the day, his mind was far from resting. Thoughts swirled relentlessly in his head as he contemplated the peculiar circumstances of his existence.

Reincarnation... he mused, the word echoing in his mind. Is that what this is? Is the soul real? If so, what exactly is a soul? And why me?

He recalled fragments of his past life—a world so vastly different from the one he now inhabited. The vivid memories of modern technology, bustling cities, and the comforts of a developed world contrasted starkly with the harsh realities of this tribal life. Yet, what puzzled him most was the "why" of it all. Why was I brought here? Was it a divine intervention? Some grand plan? Or just a cosmic accident?

Arun's gaze shifted to the ceiling, his small chest rising and falling as he let out a slow sigh. If souls are real, does that mean gods are real too? Do they watch us, guide us, or are they indifferent? The idea both fascinated and unsettled him. He had no proof, only questions.

And what of the supernatural? he wondered. The forest around their tribe often felt alive—whispers in the trees, the way the wind moved as though carrying secrets unknown to humans. Arun shivered slightly, though not from the cold. Is there something more out there, beyond what I can see?

His thoughts turned inward again. Was I brought here for a reason? To change something? To learn something? Or is this just some random fluke, like rolling dice and landing in another life? The idea that there might be no reason at all unsettled him the most.

A faint glow from the dying embers bathed the room in a warm hue. Arun turned his head to see his mother sleeping soundly on her mat, her expression peaceful despite the hardships of their life. Her presence grounded him, if only for a moment.

Maybe... maybe the reason doesn't matter. Maybe what matters is what I do with this life, he thought, a flicker of determination igniting in his mind. Whatever the truth was—whether gods or coincidence were behind his reincarnation—Arun decided he would face this life head-on.

The thoughts continued to swirl, but fatigue eventually claimed him, and his eyes grew heavy. As he drifted into sleep, the mysteries of his existence remained unanswered, but a quiet resolve lingered in the depths of his young heart. The ancient forest stood watch over the small hut, its secrets hidden, waiting for another day.