I Somehow Ended Up Doing It With My Stepmom
Hyo-jung looked down at her ruined face and homewear and let out a sigh of pure despair so deep it seemed to hollow out the floor beneath her. Our back-and-forth raged on for a long while, heating up the narrow room.
But no matter how furious she got, staring at her stepson's lower half swelling purple right in front of her eyes—veins looking ready to burst—apparently stirred something in the twelve-year veteran housewife. That meager scrap of pity (or maybe maternal instinct) raised its head once more.
In the end she rolled up her sleeves like someone resigning herself to fate. This time, though, the look in her eyes was different. She was a tiger fully steeped in rage and humiliation, poison rising sharp in every line of her face.
"Haa… Fine. Just once. This is the real last emergency treatment."
"Yeah, Mom…! I knew only Mom would…!"
"This time, if it feels like it's coming, you tell me beforehand. No exceptions!"
"Uh… t-tell you what?"
"Give me a signal, you idiot! If you blast off with zero warning like last time and spray my face and clothes all over again… then forget necrosis or whatever—before I even call 911, I'll squeeze the damn thing till it pops with my own two hands! Got it?!"
"Y-yeah! Got it! I'll do a full countdown three seconds before launch, no matter what! I swear!"
I nodded so hard and so grimly I looked like a student soldier clutching a grenade in front of a North Korean tank. Once she'd confirmed my frantic agreement, Hyo-jung bit down hard on her lip, drew one deep breath, and reached both hands once more toward the vicious pillar that still gleamed slick from the wreckage of earlier.
Grab—.
"Hhk…! H-holy…!"
My skin was hypersensitive after the massive storm that had just torn through it. The moment Hyo-jung's soft palms started rubbing again, I couldn't hold back a beastly moan. Her touch, clumsy only minutes ago, had already picked up technique from that single round of live combat. Now it worked me up and down with a springy, devastating pressure that felt twice as destructive.
"You—you'd better actually say something this time. Or I swear I'll pinch it clean off."
She snapped the warning with her face turned sharply away, cheeks tomato-red, but the snap of her wrists was already blowing the fuse on my reason all over again.
"Hwaaang…! Ah, I'm losing it… this feels way too good…!"
The same guy who'd been wailing about necrosis and ending up a eunuch only moments earlier was now clutching the bedsheets with half-lidded eyes, spilling blissful moans. Looking down at that shameless display, Hyo-jung's brow furrowed into a deep, dark crease.
"Hey! Is this really the time to be lying there enjoying yourself?! You said it was emergency treatment! A struggle for survival! So hurry up and finish already!"
"Kh… like I can just decide that! Your hands feel so good every nerve in my body is flooding straight there—what am I supposed to do?! And a guy's body isn't some vending machine you press a button on and out it comes!"
"This mouth of yours just will not quit till the bitter end…! Fine. I'll squeeze it out of you like a damn vending machine myself!"
My shameless excuses finally snapped half the leash on her self-control. Hyo-jung bit down on her flushed lips. The next instant, the snap of her wrists evolved at a miraculous speed, as if someone had bolted a motor onto them.
Papapapapak—!
"Euhiiik?! M-Mom?! The speed just—! It's way too—!"
Twelve years of mincing garlic and chopping green onions had forged a housewife's forearm muscles, and every ounce of that power was now exploding straight into my lower half.
Rough yet precise, fast yet seamless—perfect piston strokes. The sticky friction of flesh slamming against flesh heated the air in the room to a fever pitch.
Stimulation on a completely different level from before crashed over the Black Dragon. Pleasure raced up my spine and threatened to blow clean through the top of my skull. That veteran housewife's rage-fueled hands punched straight through even the power of the Blue Pill and drove me to the edge in a single rush.
"How's that?! Still not coming?! Huh?! Cum already!"
"Aaaagh! I-it's coming! Mom, wait! Stop! C-countdown! Three seconds to launch! Two seconds!"
The words had barely left my screaming mouth before Hyo-jung's eyes flew wide. The memory of the earlier "facial bombardment catastrophe" flashed through her mind, and she yanked her hands off my pillar at the speed of light.
"Emergency! Code red! Tissues! Where are the tissues!"
Hyo-jung snatched the entire box of Kleenex from the bedside. She wrenched out a monstrous fistful of tissues and planted them like an iron wall right in front of my lower half, channeling the spirit of a major-league catcher squaring up to glove a 100-mph fastball with the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth.
"Fire already!!"
On the bed, a naked son arched his waist like a drawn bow, trembling violently. In front of him, a stepmother gripped a thick wad of tissues and waited for launch with grim resolve.
Fwaaaash—!!!
"Kraaaagh! I'm cuuuuming!!"
I snapped my hips like a bowstring and mercilessly blasted out the second surge of life energy I'd hauled up from the deepest part of my core. It was hard to believe only a few minutes had passed since the facial disaster—an enormous, heavy white stream carved through the air.
"Uwaaah! Why is there still so much?!"
Mom, armed with dynamic vision and reflexes that would put a legendary major-league catcher to shame, guided the thick wad of Kleenex clutched in both hands to the exact point of impact and pulled off a miracle of defense—catching that terrifying waterfall without letting a single drop leak through.
Thud. The tissues grew heavy in her grip.
The dizzying, sticky friction sounds that had filled the narrow room finally stopped. Only ragged breathing bounced back and forth like a ping-pong ball.
"Haa, haa…."
"Hah, hah…."
I sprawled across the bed like a dried squid that had every last drop of moisture and stamina wrung out of it. I didn't have the strength left to twitch a single finger.
Hyo-jung wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead with her forearm, chucked the heavy tissue wad into the trash, and slid down to sit against the wall.
"Aigoo, my arms and legs…. After draining that much, it has to be dead by now, right? Humanly speaking?"
Deep exhaustion colored her voice, along with the thick relief of finally being freed from this hellish labor of "medical emergency treatment." I stared at the ceiling with unfocused eyes and giggled like someone who'd lost his mind.
"Hehe… of course. I feel like every last drop of blood in my body just got squeezed out. Any more is impossible…. Peace has finally—"
I never finished the sentence.
An ominous chill slid down my spine. My insides felt completely hollowed out, so why did the mass of pressure in one particular spot below the waist feel like it hadn't decreased at all? What the hell was this déjà vu?
Hyo-jung must have felt the same dread. Still slumped against the wall, she slowly turned her head and looked down between my legs. I creaked my neck around and stared at my own crotch.
"……."
"……."
And both of us had no choice but to doubt our own eyes.
It had just erupted in two colossal volcanic blasts. I had scraped together my very soul and burned it white-hot.
Yet the thing standing tall between my legs—"Sergeant Park Si-woo Junior"—refused to tilt even one degree or shrink a single millimeter. It held a perfect vertical. If anything, the furious piston work from moments ago had only made the veins stand out sharper as they pulsed.
As if it couldn't care less about its owner's drained stamina, the Black Dragon held its head stiffly high and roared arrogantly at the empty air.
(Not yet! Not yet, you greenhorn! The true power of this Blue Pill doesn't fade from something this small!!)
Faced with that overwhelming, savage presence—so vivid I almost heard the hallucination—Hyo-jung and I both lost the power of speech. The synergy between the Blue Pill and a year and a half of condensed military abstinence was a catastrophe that casually shattered the common sense of humankind.
"……Haaaaaa."
No anger came. No resentment. No excuses.
In the empty house in the middle of the day, a freshly discharged son sprawled naked and a sweat-soaked stepmother stared blankly at the massive tent pole thrusting upward as if it meant to punch through the ceiling. As though they'd rehearsed it, the two of them let out the heaviest, deepest simultaneous sigh in the world.
"Haa… what the hell are you going to do about this?!"
Hyo-jung rubbed her throbbing wrist and shouted in a voice thick with resentment. After back-to-back rounds of intense "medical emergency treatment," her slender forearms had already hit their limit and were trembling hard.
"My arms hurt too much—I can't do any more! I'm going to need pain patches first thing tomorrow! So why is that thing still standing there like that?!"
She was right. The Black Dragon between my legs hadn't wilted after two massive explosions. Thanks to the stimulation just now, it was gleaming even more viciously, flaunting its savage form. The power of the Blue Pill truly destroyed human common sense.
"S-so, uh… I really think just one more time would do it…."
"How?! You want to watch my wrists snap?! First thing tomorrow when the sun comes up, you're going straight to the urologist and getting the whole thing chopped off!"
Watching Hyo-jung wave her hands in pure horror, I desperately spun the gears in my head. If hands were off the table, I had to find another way. Leave it like this and I really might get carted off by 911 into a nationwide dark history—or end up with a body I could never use again. The terror came flooding back.
In that instant, a certain technique flashed through my mind—something I'd only ever heard about through the men's magazines hidden in the barracks lockers and the secret oral legends passed down by my seniors during that year and a half.