How to Train My Mother?
Suddenly dropped into the world of a novel, I was drifting like flotsam with no idea what lay ahead or behind. Now that I had a clear goal—to train my mother—the path forward was simple: just keep moving.
"But first, cleanup."
Before my mother, still sound asleep with my semen thick between her thighs, could wake, I had to handle the aftermath. I started by stripping the cum-stained sheets and her skirt and undergarments, soaked in all sorts of fluids. I boiled water, wiped down her lower body with warm cloths, and washed the filthy bedding and clothes by the stream.
"This is killing me."
Without modern conveniences, nothing was easy. Thanks to the late summer heat, the sheets and clothes dried overnight, but I hadn't slept a wink. If she wasn't the type who slept like the dead—no matter how roughly you shook her—she would've woken hundreds of times by now and realized what happened.
Only as the eastern sky began to glow with dawn did I finish everything. Wondering if I could steal even a moment's rest, I lay down on my own bedding. How long had it been?
"Yaaawn..."
My mother, who'd slept so deeply I half-thought she was dead, stirred. It was like she had sunflower genes, only rising with the sun's light.
Through my exhaustion, I heard her folding the bedding and changing clothes. If I opened my eyes, I'd see her secret folds—last glimpsed in the dark—now lit by morning brightness. But I was too tired to care.
She moved to the kitchen, then stormed back to scold me, still huddled under the covers.
"Hey! You were lazy yesterday, and now again? Get up this instant!"
At her command, I groaned and rose. I could feel how different this body was from my frail modern one.
Worked all day yesterday, stayed up all night bustling about, and I still feel fine?
If it were my old body, I'd be laid out for two days. Grateful for this sturdy frame, I offered morning greetings.
"Mother. Did you sleep well?"
"Hm...?"
She paused while setting the breakfast table, puzzled but pleased by my politeness. The reason I played the perfect filial son, treating her with utmost respect? Simple groundwork. No matter the suspicions from future events, she had to trust and rely on her son—me—above all.
"Yes. But you look dreadful. Up all night?"
I was tired, sure, but for pulling an all-nighter, I felt amazingly healthy. A mother's intuition, I supposed. She eyed me with immediate concern, sensing something off.
"No, Mother. It's nothing to trouble you over."
"Hm..."
I mimicked Jeong Yun's speech from the novel as best I could. It didn't roll off the tongue easily, but to keep her from suspecting I wasn't her real son, I had to nail it.
She seemed to have words on the tip of her tongue—hesitant, unlike her usual forthright self—before swallowing them.
"Fine. Go to the elder today and work hard. Hurry now."
"Yes."
She finished eating with a hint of disappointment, as if sensing I was hiding something. I bowed.
"Then I'll be off."
"Yes. Don't overdo it."
Her sharp eyes caught my poorer condition today, sending me off with worried words. Leaving her behind, I headed to the Herbalist's House, my mind fixed on one thing.
How do I train Mother?
I pondered endlessly how to keep her mind pure while corrupting her body without her noticing. Beyond that, I just wanted to fuck her once. This body was undeniably Jeong Hyang's son's, but the soul inside was mine. To truly "claim" her from being stolen away, I needed that satisfaction first—making her my mother, mine.
Excuses. I just want to fuck her.
Last night's taste of her ripe, mature flesh had my lower half throbbing. I craved that drug-like softness, her musky scent, the mind-melting heat enveloping me again.
Lost in such thoughts, I arrived at the Herbalist's House.
"Elder."
"Aye."
Inside, the space I'd cleared yesterday was piled high with herbs again. After a quick greeting, I sorted and trimmed as before.
"This..."
Amid the herbs, I spotted the Monghwancho from yesterday. Then I recalled the elder's words.
Burning this makes women lose 30 minutes to an hour of memory, right?
The ultimate tool from some violation fantasy. I swiftly gathered every stalk while sorting, pocketing them.
Once done, I said I'd burn some Monghwancho like yesterday and stashed it away.
"How much per use?"
Plenty for now. Exact dose unknown, but if just burning worked as he said, it was easy.
I portioned some for tonight and returned.
"Good work. Here's today's pay."
"Thank you, Elder."
I played the role flawlessly, polite and filial. Smiling warmly at villagers, I kept up the diligent youth act. Only then could I dodge suspicion for my shady deeds—my face ached from the effort.
"Got the Monghwancho..."
On the way back, I bought snacks to share with Mother and hurried home.
"Mother. I'm back."
The once-awkward word now slipped out naturally. From the kitchen, she emerged beaming.
"You worked hard. Come here."
Like yesterday, she hugged me warmly. Not stingy with affection, just strict when needed, upholding propriety and honoring her late husband—a pure, upright woman. And with a beauty that made my eyes pop, no wonder the magistrate lusted like a dog in heat.
Once one myself, I dropped the magistrate hate and offered a bribe to boost her favor.
"Mother, I bought some treats from the market. Shall we share after dinner?"
Honey rice cakes—her favorite.
"Oh, honey tteok!"
She'd scraped by with sewing and chores, but a man's full day's wage made this possible.
"The elder gave me some soothing incense too. Let's try it later."
I flashed the Monghwancho, lying smoothly. Without a shred of doubt, she smiled prettily and agreed. Pure, untainted virtue.
Hope the Monghwancho works.
Watching her return to the kitchen, last night's ass-cheek feel returned, blood rushing south. Suppressing my stiffening cock, the beast in son's clothing entered the widow's home.
After dinner, as the sun dipped low, we shared the honey tteok.
"So sweet. So sweet."
She giggled like a child, devouring it. That innocence fueled my sadism, threatening to crack my filial mask.
I yielded most to her, eyes roaming her form. Her hair pinned severely, simple clothes suiting her perfectly. Yet her ripe curves subtly outlined beneath evoked the beauty of concealment.
"Mother, shall I burn that soothing incense?"
"Yes, good idea. I was worried you seemed tired."
For her son, she'd give her liver and gall. No suspicion—she urged me on. Her overflowing maternal love only heightened the taboo thrill.
Masking my lechery, I lit the Monghwancho.
Smells better than expected? So subtle.
Well-dried from the day, it caught quickly. Wispy smoke rose, a faint, natural scent filling the room. Unless you sniffed deliberately, you'd never notice—faint enough to blend into clothes unnoticed.
"Mother, how is it?"
I prompted her to inhale deeply.
"Hm..."
Her mood high from sweet tteok, she replied limply, energy draining. Shoulders slack, head bowed, she sat blankly.
"Mother?"
"Ah, the scent? It's... subtly niceee..."
Words trailing like a drunk, she responded slowly. Her usual vigor gone, cognition dulled, reactions sluggish.