The Daughter-in-Law's Filthy Frenzy
I supported my wife as we barely made it to the restroom. At the entrance to the women's room, she panted heavily and said,
"Kang Han... I'll be right back. Could you buy some more pads for me, please?"
She darted inside like she was fleeing, heading straight for the farthest stall in the corner. When she hiked up her dress, the pad was already soaked through, heavy and sodden. It laid bare just how utterly humiliating her ordeal in front of my parents had been... and how intensely that masochistic pleasure had gripped her.
"Haa, hauk...!"
Like a woman out of her mind, she brought the pad—drenched in her own fluids—to her mouth. The fishy-sweet tang of her secretions aroused her wildly. She sucked greedily on the pad slick with her arousal juices, guzzling the lewd fluids of a depraved bitch in heat. Then she plunged her fingers into her pussy like a maniac.
One finger, two, three...
"Ah... not enough, more..."
Finally, her entire hand forced its way in, stretching her pussy mercilessly. The brutal fisting began. In the cramped stall, the wet, squelching sounds of flesh slapping flesh echoed obscenely.
"Splurch... splat."
"Squelch, squish, squelch."
She ravaged herself savagely. But it still wasn't enough. Teetering on the edge of ecstasy, she craved deeper degradation—not just physical pleasure, but the soul-crushing thrill of mental humiliation. Having despaired under the organization's schemes, drowning in shame and misery, she now yearned to plummet even further into the abyss.
"Hauk, ugh, uuugh...!"
She collapsed to the restroom floor, lapping mindlessly at the filthy tiles stained with someone's piss.
Prostrated beneath the toilet, she licked the grimy floor with her tongue. The acrid taste of dirty urine filled her mouth. It was as if she'd become a human toilet. The most wretched existence on earth—a toilet.
"Ah... ah... I am... I am a filthy human toilet bitch..."
"Ah, aaaah...! Make me... more miserable... Master♥."
She nearly bolted to the men's room, unable to hold back. There, she wanted to crouch by the urinals, gulping down the men's piss straight from the source.
"Haa... haa... I am a lowly creature."
"A dirty maso bitch in heat... drinking men's piss... a human toilet bitch......"
Her unfocused eyes rolled back precariously as she brutalized herself without mercy for what felt like ages.
"Ah... aaahhh...!!! C-cumming♥♥"
Reaching her limit at last, her body arched like a bow, convulsing violently in release.
I waited outside the restroom, clutching the fresh pack of pads I'd just bought. It was a relief that this secluded spot saw little foot traffic—until my parents caught up.
"Ah... I was so thoughtless. She collapsed at the wedding yesterday, and she still hasn't fully recovered..."
Mother murmured in self-reproach, while Father stood silent, breathing raggedly.
Just then, my wife emerged slowly. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes slightly glazed. To mask the scent of her arousal, she'd doused herself in far more perfume than usual. But piercing through the heavy fragrance was the thick, intoxicating aroma of a woman in heat—a potent pheromone that would instinctively set any man's nerves on fire, even if other women might dismiss it as overpowering perfume.
Drunk on that smell, I was seized by the urge to drag her back to the hotel room and fuck her senseless right then. But I wasn't the only one ensnared by desire. A fierce storm raged in Father's eyes—a brutal war between reason and lust.
Oblivious, Mother clasped my wife's hand tightly.
"Dear, let's skip the meal and head home now."
Still struggling to steady her breath, my wife replied in a trembling voice,
"Ah..... haa, Mother, I'm so sorry. My body hasn't recovered yet.... I was so rude."
After catching her breath, she forced a smile onto her quivering lips.
"But I took some medicine in there just now, and I feel much better."
It wasn't a lie. She'd just ravaged herself in that stall, licking the filthy floor to quench her raging heat. That had calmed her somewhat.
My wife naturally linked arms with both Mother and Father.
"I have a restaurant reserved, so let's head there."
Unlike Mother, who eyed her with concern as they followed, Father trailed her like a man entranced. From her armpits, pressed against him, oozed the viscous, dense pheromones of a bitch in estrus. He was already a captive to that lethal scent, wordlessly surrendering his steps to her in a daze.
The warmth of Mother's genuine worry seemed to soothe my wife somewhat. The family bond she'd craved for so long—that tender affection—was like a miracle cure staunching her boiling arousal.
We soon reached the restaurant floor. As we headed to the place my wife had booked, Mother's steps halted abruptly before one particular restaurant. It was modest in size. But the look in her eyes as she gazed at it was that of a pilgrim reaching a lifelong holy site.
"Ah..... This is that place, isn't it?"
Her voice quavered faintly.
It had been open about five years, but its popularity showed no signs of waning—always booked solid a year in advance. Meals were tailored to each guest's physical condition, offering effects that transcended mere gourmet delights, bordering on the miraculous. For menopausal housewives tormented by hormonal insomnia, it was the 'Promised Sanctuary' every woman dreamed of visiting at least once.
The owner was Baek Hyun-soo. Among middle-aged women in Korea, he held a cult-like status. But his fame wasn't new. Thirty years ago, the entire nation had idolized him.
A prodigy who, at 25, became the youngest tenured professor in Harvard Medical School history. He quickly rose to the pinnacle of hormone research worldwide. Then, at 30, he achieved a world-shaking breakthrough: Hormone-Controlled CCR5 Receptor Reversible Mutation for Immune Barrier. AIDS prevention had become possible.
Announcing this would have netted him not just the Nobel in Medicine, but the Peace Prize for saving countless African children. Yet he vanished with all his research, never releasing it to the world.
A genius under the spotlight since childhood, handsome and blissfully married to his beloved wife five years his junior. But heaven, which had maxed out every other stat, had denied him one thing: a grotesquely tiny penis. Far too small even for "shrimp"—it was a massive complex.
His sweet wife understood and accepted it; they loved fiercely. But after discovering hormone-based AIDS prevention, he buried himself in research for two years, barely coming home.
She loved him deeply but grew lonely. And eventually...
Her loneliness festered and burst silently. The night before announcing his miracle to the world, he rushed home with flowers to share the joy first.
"Haak... aaah... so good.... so fucking good..."
A beastly moan he'd never heard from her echoed down the hall.
"James.... aaah, thank you for showing me pleasures I never knew as a woman. Aaah, uwaaah!"
He flung open the bedroom door. There was his wife, devouring a black man's massive cock.
After that, he divorced her and vanished from the world. Rumors placed him in remote Tibet.
He resurfaced seven years ago—on a TV health show overrun by flashy 'show doctors.' His bombshell ideas sounded like miracles: chronic illnesses cured with everyday ingredients.
Established doctors attacked, threatening their turf. But he was an untouchable legend. Five years ago, he opened this small spot to help people directly. That's why Mother stood transfixed before it.
But my wife's face darkened. Gripped by fear, she tugged Mother's hand toward our original destination. Mother knew the place was booked years out and followed without protest.
Then... the door opened. A man emerged, head shaved smooth like a monk's, clad in refined reformed hanbok that accentuated his austere aura.
Mother's expression transformed into that of an ascetic beholding Buddha.
Her menopausal insomnia had defied every doctor. I'd endured similar hell during my lawsuit days. Testimonies abounded of guests sleeping like babies after one visit. To her, he was a savior.
But my wife froze in abject terror at his face. Her legs trembled violently. Yet her obscenely aroused body reacted instinctively to her Master. Sweat beaded on her cleavage, armpits, nape. And her ripened pheromones erupted wildly.
I knew him too. Intel from Section Chief Park: Pantheon's untouchable #2, even to Lee Tae-shin. Long before his public return, he'd supercharged the organization as its 'Mad Scientist.'
Adrift, he'd fallen under Lee Tae-shin's mad ideology. He funneled his world-saving research into bloating Pantheon's power. For paranoid elites worldwide, his tech was priceless.
Evolving it, he created a Sex Disease Blocker Implant—like an Implanon contraceptive, but blocking all STDs: AIDS, syphilis, everything. Implant one, fuck wildly without fear. Trillions funneled to Pantheon.
With that, Lee Tae-shin seized Korea's politics and media. Now he could topple presidents at will—Korea's absolute ruler. Baek was his top功臣.
With a benevolent smile, he addressed Mother,
"What a precious connection. As a fan of Lee Seol, I'd love to treat her mother-in-law to a meal..."
He studied Mother's complexion, then added softly,
"That chronic insomnia plaguing you, Mother—it ends today."
His guru-like certainty, laced with cultish assurance, filled her with rapture, as if blessed.
This was surely a viper's nest bent on tormenting my wife. But the words to flee wouldn't come. I knew Mother's nightly agony better than anyone.
I glanced at my wife. She fought desperately. Her body still craved pleasure viciously. Crossing that threshold promised exquisite torment. But it could shatter her precious bonds with my parents—exposing her ugliest self before them. Terror clashed with temptation; she bit her lip in agony.
Yet futilely, Baek took Mother's hand and led her inside. She yielded like a devotee before the Pope. With no choice, we followed on unsteady feet.
The place was unpretentious, small—all private rooms. Seated, Baek's meticulous assessment began. He scanned each of us. Skipping Mother, his gaze lingered on Father. An intrigued smile flickered—gone in an instant. But I swear I glimpsed the devil in him.
His eyes moved to me, then my wife. Assessment done? He bowed gracefully and left. Soon, staff brought personalized dishes.
My wife trembled, tense. Eating this would turn her into a bitch in heat before my parents. She knew Baek's arousal drug too well. The fear of destroying her bonds in a haze of ecstasy gripped her.
But Baek's target wasn't her. It was Father.
Watching us from afar, Baek smiled happily. Glancing at his phone, he whispered,
"Honey... something fun's about to happen."
On the screen: his ex-wife from 25 years ago. Bizarrely, they'd reconciled, living as newlyweds.
Was it his hormones? At 50, her skin glowed vibrantly, her beauty alluring. She seemed to grow younger daily—looking 30s. Middle-aged women envied her; rumors swirled Baek held the secret to rejuvenation.
And it was partly true. Her transformation sparked new research. He suspected the cause: the massive daily doses he fed her, and the insane acts he made her perform. There lay the fountain of youth.
Baek gazed lovingly at his phone wife. Unable to fix his cursed micro-penis despite lifelong study, he'd gifted her substitutes instead. Ugly pig cocks.
On screen, his wife took a pig's spiraling cock, burrowing to her cervix. Its volume dwarfed human dicks, flooding her womb with hundreds of milliliters of hot fluid. Lost in bestial instinct, she screamed in mad ecstasy.
Baek's frenzied eyes shifted back to Father at our table.