Dorothy rode John twice, raw and brutal. She never once let his cock slip out. First time he came, she pinned him down with that bouncy, fat ass, locking his hips to the couch, with his cock twitching hard and unloading thick inside her. John couldn’t budge an inch. Then she kissed him sloppy, fed him her milk, and whispered filthy taunts—“Stay hard for Mommy, you little shit”—making damn sure he stiffened up again right there in her grip.

  After these two rounds, she was wiped. And she figured it's time to drag him to bed for the next stretch. But seeing the sticky milky white wreck smeared over them both, she smirked.

  “We need to shower first, John, you go first. I’ll catch my breath first,” she said, flopping back on the couch, repying the day’s madness in her head. A grin crept up—happiness, real and rare, bubbling in her chest.

  That fucking John…

  She was mid-thought when his phone buzzed, its screen fshing “Mom” in big, bold letters. Jealousy immediately stabbed her gut, sharp, petty. Not asking him at all, she snatched the phone, and hit answer.

  “Hey, John, it’s, uh, 11 already. Why aren’t you home yet? You okay?”

  It's Catherine’s voice, and she sounded edgy. It's the first time she’d ever called him like this. Before today, John could vanish all night, chasing tail, and she’d let it slide. But not today, he was on her errand, cheering up her sister Dorothy. With him still gone? She had to check. Call it a woman's hunch, but her gut screamed something’s off.

  And as she asked, John did make Dorothy pumped now, by pumping huge, thick loads of his cum into her uterus, and it lit her up so good. But what’d Catherine think of that method?

  Dorothy knew Catherine was fishing for John to haul ass home, so she snapped back, testy. “John’s not here right now, sis. He’s in the shower.”

  Shower? Why the hell’s he washing up at Dorothy’s pce? Catherine’s head spun, fshing to that massage, John’s hands working her till she soaked through. Her nerves kicked in. “Why’s he showering?”

  Dorothy’s gut answer? Cause I’m fucking your son all night, sis. But she bit it back. Letting Catherine know about this would surely cause a stir. Trouble like that? Definitely not worth it. So she spun a half-assed lie. “Uh, cause John’s been cleaning here all day. Got all sweaty, and his clothes all trashed. I told him to shower, and change his clothes. Peter’s stuff fits him fine I think.” She paused, letting it hang.

  Catherine blinked, stunned. In her memory, Dorothy had locked Peter’s room tight, guarding his “vibe” like a shrine, no one was allowed in. But now Dorothy’s tossing his clothes to John?

  This change of Dorothy’s mood was almost too good, too fast, even for John’s charm. She didn’t know why it pissed her off, but her voice stayed cool. “Alright, sis. When he’s done, just tell him to come home. I made him some te night snacks.”

  And Dorothy caught it, Catherine’s jealousy seeping through the line, thick as tar. She sighed, “Okay,” and hung up.

  So much for her hot night with John, busted.

  When John strutted out of the bathroom, his cock’s already standing tall and proud. “Hi, slutty Mommy, sorry for the wait. Let’s go, shall we?” But Dorothy’s face just soured, her good mood was gone because of Catherine’s call.

  “Your real Mommy wants you home for a te night snack! So get moving!”

  What? Since when did Mom make me snacks? John’s brain scrambled, but that didn’t matter. He just wanted to keep riding this night with Dorothy. “No big deal. I’ll call her now, say I’ll eat it tomorrow, and tell her to save some for me. I’m not going back tonight.”

  “And say what?” Dorothy’s voice snapped, harsh, pissed. “That you’re staying cause you’re trying to breed her big sister? NO! We’re not letting her know yet, got it?”

  John cmmed up, lost for words. She jabbed a finger toward Peter’s room. “Go grab some clothes and put them on.” As she said, she's turning to hit the shower.

  But seeing him still frozen, bnk as a brick, guilt nudged her. Maybe she’d bitten too hard. She swung back, slung her arms around his neck—half tender, half pyful—eyes glinting. “It’s fine John, I was not yelling at you. It’s just we need to py safe, okay? Come see me when you can. We’ve got plenty of time together ahead of us. And don’t forget what you promised.” She then leaned in close, voice dropping low, hot in his ear. “You’re gonna breed your free-use Mommy.” And pnted a deep, slow kiss on him, lingering, loaded.

  As John strolled home, his mind was repying Dorothy’s fake-stern exit line, “Outside, no Mommy, it’s Auntie, okay? what happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom!”, and that smirk she couldn’t hide. Warmth hit him, damn near giddy. He started tallying his “Mommies” like a smug bastard. “Camil’s my wife Mommy, Vivian and Mara, my lesbian Mommies, today’s Auntie, my… uh… free-use Mommy.” Life couldn’t get sweeter.

  He thought of his wife Mommy, Camil, pushing him to snap out of his funk tely. He felt he owed her a call, a sorry for being a drag. He wanted to tell her that his balls were back in py, so she could come back from Mar's pce. She probably would py that rich-bitch again, “I’ll think about it.” It’s all fun and sweet for John.

  But right then, his phone buzzed, it was a text from Miko, his first woman in this world the stunning widow who’d ghosted him hard tely. Her words came choppy, dripping with hesitation.

  “John, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “I need your help.”

  “My daughter Mina…”

  “You might need to…”

  “You might need to do that with her.”

  What the fuck? John’s jaw dropped. Miko, who stayed silent for ages, and her first move is asking him to bang her daughter? Not that it didn’t sound spicy, it's just freaky as hell coming from her.

  She’d bitched to him before. She hated Mina messing with boys, as she's still too young. Scared she’d end up like her—knocked up early, husband dead too soon, and life a grind with no breather. Miko wanted Mina’s legs shut tight, but girl just didn’t listen at all.

  Something’s off, way, way off.

  Gut screaming trouble, John bolted to Miko’s pce. She was already there, parked at the door, face sour, seemed reluctant as hell. Spotting him, she flicked a limp wave—get inside—no warmth, just ice.

  “Miko, you… how are you tely? Why have you been dodging me?” Selfish as it was, John cared more about her than whatever Mina’s mess was she’d texted. Miko simply mattered more to him.

  She sighed at his voice, heavy, then shot him a gre, sharp, mean. “Oh, you don’t know?” That look was far from the soft Miko he knew. Even assholes rarely got this from her. “When were you gonna tell me?”

  John bnked, lost. What’d he hide to piss her off this bad?

  She caught his dumb look, rolled her eyes hard. “Come on, John. I can smell pussy on you from ten miles away. And tely, you were hardly home, and you rarely came to my pce. You really think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?”

  Yep, straight-up, no-bullshit reason: John’s screwing around with other women, and not saying a word about it. Miko was fuming.

  He froze, how do you expin that? He never figured she’d care this much. This world had rewired him. Monogamy was some old-world relic he’d ditched. But what to tell Miko? Truth, lies—didn’t matter. Anything he said would just torch her more. Better to zip it.

  “My dead husband, Mina’s dad, he only got me, never talked to me about a second wife.” Her eyes bored in. “Tell me straight, how many… girlfriends you got out there?”

  Well, death trap here, Reward World’s version of “how many exes you got?” No winning there at all. Too few, she’d call it bullshit or peg him as a loser with no game. Too many, she’d bel him a braggart or a sleaze. Every answer nded him as liar, chump, or scum—pick your poison.

  So John cmmed up again, mute. And Miko sighed, softer this time. “Forget it. I’m not here to rip you apart today. I need your help, or I wouldn’t have texted.” She then shot him another sour gre. “Mina… Mina’s… you’ll see. Come with me, then you’ll get why I said… you and her, do it.”

  Trailing Miko, John stepped into Mina’s room, and the moment he stepped into it, he hit a wall of that smell, a smell that he couldn’t be more familiar with—sweat and pussy—so thick, so strong. It’d usually crank him up, but not today. One gnce at Mina, and excitement died immediately. Something was so wrong, really wrong. And Miko’s freaky “do it” pitch clicked fast.

  She was tied on her hands and feet, shed to the bed. Miko’s work, no doubt. Her eyes gzed, lips sck, gasping loud—drenched in sweat, oblivious to them. “Itchy,” she mumbled, over and over, one hand cwing toward her crotch, but ropes yanking it back. Worst part? Even though she's fully dressed in pajamas, her crotch and the bed beneath? Soaked through—puddle-level wet. No way that was piss—this screamed something else.

  This? This looks like… John’s brow dug in deep. Even forgot about Miko’s jabs.

  Motherfucking [Charm]!

  He roared in his head: “System, you piece of shit, expin this! You told me this world’s magic was limited. Only some psychic tricks, low odds to pull, and barely influences reality. [Charm], shit that controls people? Never heard that from you! So if you’ve got something to say, now’s the fucking time!”

  He had every right to flip. This simply wasn’t part of the deal. Only one expnation: that fucking high goddess’s trying to screw him over again.

  [I… I don’t—] The system stalled, then coughed up, [You should focus on breaking the spell. She’s got six days, tops. Then she’s dead.]

  Being an ex-mage, a great one, John knew the stakes—charm magic’s endgame. But the avaible solutions? Only three. One: hunt the caster down, force them to undo it. Next: find a mage way stronger, break it clean. Or third, the rawest option, sex. Except John wasn’t buying that. Miko’s already pissed at his roaming dick, but that’s only one strike. The bigger problem here was no human metabolism was fast enough to fuck that curse out, in John’s opinion. This wasn’t some love spell. This was a mind-bend, a bckmail trap. Screw them, ditch them—or let them rot and die in days. Sick shit.

  “Miko, it’s not that simple,” John cut off the system chat, his voice low. “To… fix Mina, we need to find another way.”

  Miko’s face twisted, panic fring. She knew her girl was a mess, and yes, the “symptoms” screamed sex. She’d dragged Mina to doctors, and the comments were “sex repression, needs release, otherwise she’s fine”. So the first fix that came up to her mind was John, hoping he’d, in her own words, “fuck some sense into her”. Dumb, but real.

  “What… what do we do now?” Her voice shook.

  John shook his head. “Stay home, take care of her.” He then fished out a fat stack of cash, shoved it at her. “Don’t go anywhere. Leave the rest to me.”

  Miko’s hand flinched to push it back, but his dead-serious stare—no trace of that carefree drawl—stopped her. She took it, and nodded.

  “Got it. You…” She hesitated, worry leaking out. “Be careful, okay?”

  Out of Miko’s pce, John hit the system again. “You are hiding something from me, aren’t you?”

  [No!]

  Clean, quick, almost too clean. John didn’t buy it for a second, but to keep grilling the system was pointless. It just wouldn’t tell. So his focus shifted—Mina. His ex-mage instincts kicked in: could he magic this curse off?

  “Fine if you don’t wanna tell. I got other questions: if this world’s got magic, can I use it? I mean, you teach me, using the knowledge you have?” Back in the days of the magical world, his old skill system fed him the spells, and he never learned the raw craft himself.

  [Theoretically, yes, you could use magic. But the knowledge about those spells? Taboo here. My database has no information on it at all.]

  Dead end, so there was only one py left: track the caster, which led to another problem—zero leads.

  Clock ticking te already, so John figured he might as well crash home first and call it a day. Tomorrow he could hit up Vivian, and she might have some intel from her underworld. Plus, if some mage was loose in this world, he’d need to gear up with her help.

  This fucking high goddess. Just won’t give me a fucking break.

  John finally dragged himself home, and his stepmom Catherine was already parked in the living room. Her arms were crossed, pissed-off gre locked and loaded. Seeing him roll in wearing Peter’s clothes, She blew up.

  “You got any idea what time it is now!? Why’re you back te!?”

  John’s brain just bnked. Since when did you start to clock me? But he didn’t dwell, and fshed a grin instead. “Mom, Auntie said you made me a snack. Where’s it? I’m starving.”

  There had been no snack. It was purely bait to yank him home all along.

  “I ate it myself,” Catherine snapped. “You worked for your ‘Auntie’ all day. What, she didn’t feed you?”

  Upon hearing the word “feed”, John cracked, no matter how hard he was trying to hold it. Dorothy basically had been feeding him nonstop tonight, just not the kind he could tell Catherine. So he straightened up, deadpan. “We had dinner together.”

  What? She cooked for him? That’s my damn job! Catherine’s brain screeched. “Then why not get her to make you a snack!? Why you asking me for it?”

  Even a brick could’ve caught it now. Catherine’s jealous. Normally, John’d be pretty happy about it, cause that’s a sign he’s getting into her heart. But after the “a mage in this world” bombshell and the two jealous women earlier, Dorothy and Miko, he simply didn’t want to take it anymore. He was tapped. A third round of dealing with a jealous woman? Nope. His Words slipped, loose.

  “Come on, one jealous woman at a time. Not all today.”

  Dead air, they both froze. John’s brain scrambled—well, no good expnation to that. So he bolted to his room, decided to hide this one out. He’s done with fixing shit today. Whatever this would be, it’s all tomorrow’s problem.

  Catherine’s head buzzed—What the fuck? More than one jealous woman? Then she snapped back, yelling, “Who said I’m jealous!?” But it’s too te, he’d already locked his door.

  At this moment, Chloe popped out, head poking from her door.

  “Hey Mom, I heard ‘snack’. I’m hungry.”

  “Go ask your aunt for snacks. Leave me alone!” Catherine barked, and then stormed off, her room door smming hard behind her.

  Huh, what? The fuck’s going on here? Chloe stood there alone, her eyes blinking, clueless in the middle of this jealousy-fueled night of John’s.