Prologue

My name is Birito Hondakawasuzuyota and until today I was just a normal Japanese salaryman. For 5 years I worked for the global delivery giant Spamazon, and my job was to drive one of their small delivery trucks throughout Tokyo and the surrounding area. Sometimes I delivered items of value, but most of the time I was delivering video games, body pillows, and erotic manga to sweaty Otakus who live in tiny cluttered apartments.

I was required to hand off the items in person and to get the customer's signature, but I tried to complete the conversation in under 30 seconds. I never made eye contact. Their breathing was always heavy and their hands were sticky and warm. As soon as I gave them their boxes, they ripped them open like wild beasts. Their buggy eyes glazed over once they saw the naked Anime girls sprawled on the book covers, and more than once I was compelled to rush out without the signature as they began to pleasure themselves while I was still on their doorstep.

In my 28 years of life I never hated anyone. Except for Otakus.

But delivering their packages wasn't the worst of it. Lately the Otakus have become obsessed with Isekai, a specific type of story in which the protagonist – usually a reclusive unwashed pervert like them – is hit by a truck and then transported into a fantasy world where they gain magical powers and become magnets for busty women. It started small at first, with one or two incidents a year, but eventually I was dealing with 2 or 3 of these sweaty idiots jumping out in front of my truck every single week. They were all trying to get Isekai'd, and a delivery truck was apparently the most reliable way to do it.

Meanwhile I was left cleaning up the mess, not to mention the unwanted police attention I received every time an Otaku wearing nothing but cat-girl underwear decided to jump out in front of my truck. The police thought that I was some kind of serial killer, and that I was deliberately targeting people who weren't contributing anything to society out of some warped sense of justice. But then the number of new Isekai series jumped from 2 or 3 per season to more than a dozen, and other truck drivers began to experience similar incidents, so they let me off the hook.

I hated the Otakus so much that I was considering a move. My company, Spamazon, had offices all over the world, and I was hoping to get transferred to another country. Somewhere far, far away. There was an opening in the Philippines – where I'm sure they never even heard of Anime or Isekai – and I was all set to go.

But that's when disaster struck.

One evening as I was returning from a delivery, I spotted another one. I was stopped at a red light, and there on the sidewalk I saw a grossly overweight loner with thick glasses and sticky white stains in his hair. He was looking right at me, and I could tell by his glassy lustful eyes that he was planning to get Isekai'd right then and there. And he was going to use me and my truck to do it.

"Not again," I said. I'll be damned if I let another Otaku bastard ruin my entire week, and on a Friday night of all nights. As the light turned blue I stepped on the gas, but instead of staying in my lane I swerved to the right, into the lane reserved for cars going in the opposite direction. I didn't see anyone ahead of me so I thought it would be fine, but the Otaku bastard started running after me. I turned to look at him, worried that he might catch up and throw himself under my rear wheels, and those few seconds that I took my eyes off the road was all it took.

A large transport truck made a left turn from a side street and right into the lane I was occupying. The eighteen-wheeler had no way of knowing that I would be driving on the wrong side of the road because of my Otaku problem. I turned the wheel sharply and tried to swerve out of the way, but it was too late. My beautiful little white truck was smashed by the large transport, and the next thing I knew I was flying. I thought that at least now I would enjoy eternal rest, forever freed of the Otaku Nemesis, but that's when the real tragedy took place.

Instead of eternal rest I was transported to another world. With my truck.

I've been stuck here for 3 hours now. The colors are way too bright, glowing green grass and trees and a blinding blue sky. Mystical mountains of different colors, shapes, and sizes stretch across the horizon, and strange physically impossible creatures are all around me. There was a fat dragon with tiny wings that was somehow still able to fly, a snake with the face of a fox, and stupidest of all, a dog who carries a sword in his mouth. I considered putting the dog out of its misery, but since I was still in my truck, the dog would probably just get Isekai'd into another world with its sword.

Worse yet, my small white delivery truck has gained sentience. It speaks, it moves on its own, and it seems to think that it's not a truck at all. The truck is convinced that she's actually a girl, and worst of all, she seems to think that the two of us are in a relationship. An intimate relationship.

She says I've been "inside her" many times.

Will this nightmare never end?!