Heeek... The Pussy Goddess

"Hiiik... Heeek..."

A rasping sound tore from her throat. Mina's thighs parted ever so slightly, then clenched shut again. From what I could see, the insides of her thighs and the bedsheet were sopping wet.

Gulp. I took another step closer. Mina's naked body lay blatantly exposed. Her slender waist, wide hips—the mark of easy childbirth—and firm, lifted buttocks. Her thighs, soft and jiggly to the touch, quivered faintly.

And right at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠center. Her most intimate secret, the one no one was ever meant to see, gaped wide open. U Minjeong had a bit of labia peeking out, but Kang Mina was different. Her outer lips were plump and dense, perfectly balanced left and right. A pussy that was as pretty as her face. No—calling it a pussy felt too crude for that flawless, perfect organ.

Fingers plunging into that bluish, pristine slit. The insolent Kang Mina who'd always pissed me off was gone. The goddess of the pussy. No, the most beautiful womanly form in the world was furiously masturbating on her own bed.

Squelch squelch squelch squelch. Slurp slurp slurp.

"Haa... haa..."

Every flick of her fingers unleashed a furious wet clamor. Her breaths came faster, more erratic. Her breasts heaved wildly. Her eyes stayed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shut, but her long lashes fluttered, and I could see her eyeballs darting rapidly beneath the lids.

Should I stop her...? The doctor said not to intervene in abnormal behavior, but this... this was something else entirely.

Her fingers delved deeper. Squelch squelch squelch. Slurp slurp slurp. A valley drenched in fluids, sticky and glistening. Love juices trickled down her shining skin—I held my breath, staring.

Then her whole body spasmed like a seizure. A fractured gasp leaked from her lips.

"Ngiiiiiik~"

That was unmistakably a moan. I finally moved, sitting on the bed's edge and gently grasping her wrist. Her skin burned hot and slick with sweat.

"Mina..."

My voice cracked. Her eyes fluttered open, vacant pupils drifting hazily over my face.

"Time to eat."

I spooned porridge to her lips. Hunger was instinct, same as lust. Her tongue slid slowly between her pursed lips—plump and glossy...

Schlup.

"Hng."

My heart pounded like it would explode. Her tiny lips parted halfway. And that's when I saw it. Every single tooth was gone. Crimson gums filled the space where white teeth should have been.

In that instant, all my lust evaporated. My hard-on shriveled away.

"...Ah."

I needed to atone for lusting after a girl this pitiful. But deep in my dark, festering heart—the image burned: her turned into a fuckhouse ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in Cambodia, teeth yanked out, ragdolled like trash... the goddess of the pretty pussy, etched forever.

I fed her the porridge, checked her body. Her broken legs were mending. I made sure she took her meds, then slowly slipped out of the room.

"Rest up, Mina."

Her gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling. Once the food was gone, she spread her legs again, it seemed—starting to masturbate once more. Her body writhed. Her back arched off the bed, then slapped down. A moan-like sigh escaped her lips.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shut the door and headed back to my room. Guilt gnawed at me—for lusting after my stepmom, and now my sister too. But the desire to claim Kang Mina burned just as strong.

"Fuck... whatever."

And rage. Pure, boiling rage. They'd done this to my sister just because I skipped video calls for ten days.

I grabbed my smartphone and jabbed the saved fuckingbitch account—the one linked to video calls with my stepmom.

Suppressing my fury, I hit call.

Dingdong dingdong~ dingdong dingdong~

The bell rang on, unanswered. I hung up and redialed.

"Hello!"

Finally, the one who picked up wasn't U Minjeong. A handsome Asian guy with sharp eyes filled the screen. His Korean was crisp—probably Korean himself?

"Raising 10 billion isn't easy. I put the house up dirt cheap, but it still hasn't sold."

His lip curled smugly.

"Should've said so sooner. Gotta keep contact constant. Over a week silent? That's on you—made us misunderstand. So we sent a gift. Hope you liked it? Kinda busted up, might not be usable anymore. Kekekeke."

I swallowed my rage. Blood relation or not, family bends inward.

"Send what you can first, Suhu. You know the Bitcoin wallet, right?"

"I don't know much about Bitcoin..."

"Then learn. No sincerity, how you gonna save your mom? Gotta repay her for birthing you."

"She's not my real mom. We weren't even close."

His face darkened. He gulped, flustered.

"Tch... not your real mom?"

"The type who'd treat me like Cinderella's stepmom, more like."

"Hey... U Minjeong! Where is she? Streaming?"

Flustered by the "not real mom" bombshell, he set the phone on the table and started yapping in Cambodian. No clue what they were saying.

Then U Minjeong's face popped into frame.

Her makeup was flawless, face brimming with vitality—totally unlike the last video. Her beauty shone radiant now. Fluffy brown V-neck sweater under warm lights.

Gulp. Fucking gorgeous. But her posture on the bed was sloppy. A laptop sat behind her, surrounded by streaming gear.

No, she wasn't right. Beauty restored to her prime, but her eyes lost focus, staring into nothing. She kept wetting her lips nervously.

"Son..."

Her voice drifted, hazy. Hard to tell if she could even converse—or if she was in her right mind.

Then her head snapped sideways, like offscreen scolding hit. She slapped her cheeks, faced the camera, and grinned.

"Son... I'm not your real mom, but... you love mommy, right? Mommy loves her son~♡"

She stuck out her tongue lewdly—like a snake, curling the tip, flicking at the air with kisses. Totally drugged-out vibe.

Defenseless pose. Her skirt hiked up, exposing white thighs and a blatant panty shot—the kind no sober woman would take. Slit skirt rolled high; a peek of plump outer labia bulged through the cute white fabric.

"Son... love you~♡"

That "love" felt loaded. Her panties had gone dark gray, soaked through.

I couldn't respond to her confession.

"But son... Mommy's sorry to you and Mina."

Suddenly, her eyes sparkled. A tear trailed down.

"Mina... your sister Mina...? Right... my daughter. Where's my girl? Mina's my daughter, yeah?"

The name hit her like a chokehold. Pupils sharpened, then quaked violently. Hands clamped over her horrified mouth. Motherly instinct kicking in, snapping her back.

"Mina... where's Mina?"

Eyes bulged wide, terror flooding her face—like she'd uttered a forbidden curse.

"No... no. Sorry... that... I'm sorry. Sorry, Mina..."

She never said what for. No more daughter talk.

I figured her panic trigger. Her mind was shattered. Probably witnessed Mina's tooth-pulling hell firsthand.

"Mina's rescued. She's recovering in her room now. She's okay. Save you, and it's all good."

Relief washed over U Minjeong's face. The depth of her ingrained terror and guilt hit me full force.

Then she glanced offscreen, back to camera. Sharp order from the guy.

"Son... daily video calls from now... watch my stream... donate right away. 10 billion... not all at once..."

She tried steadying her breath, but her stiff nipples grazed the sweater's rough knit.

"Heeek... hik... haa~ haa~♡"

She gripped the chair arms hard, ecstasy twisting her. Drugs or not, hypersensitive nipples pushed her over the edge into orgasm.

"Mommy's... so filthy now. Nipples... too sensitive... hauk~♡"

She hiked the sweater's hem. Below: that lace bra before, tits even bigger, swollen fuller.

Drugged growth? They jiggled at the slightest motion.

She unhooked and tossed the bra, sweater half-up.

"Mommy's tits pretty?"

She flaunted her pale breasts. Standing up now would've been prime Zerotwo dance pose. Explaining desperately, mouth open, hands shoving the sweater higher. More teasing than stripping bare.

Goosebumps prickled her skin.

"Hnggg~~"

U Minjeong curled briefly, enduring—but juices dripping between thighs proved her heat. The sweater's scratchy weave tormented her sensitive nipples and skin.

Heavy F-cups swayed. Thick flesh veined blue. Erect nipples and meaty areolae—a visual assault.

"Jerk it... watching this body... masturbate for me. I'll show everything. Son... send a dick pic..."

Stepmom yanked her panty aside, baring plump, chewy outer lips. Shaved clean, symmetric pink pussy. But the slit gaped loose from heavy use.

Send a dick pic? Heartbreaking—dragging me into phishing crime too.

"Son... Mommy's body changed like this... When I return, your personal fuckhouse. Mina too... fuckhouse for you. Use as you like."

"What the fuck??"

I jolted at her words. They'd sent Kang Mina as my fuckhouse?

My shocked, disgusted reaction spooked the offscreen guy.

"Kang Mina's still virgin. Gift for you. 10 billion... please. Send everything today."

Crazy bastard. Believe that shit? Wanted to roar, but U Minjeong was still theirs. Screen went black. They cut first.

"I'll destroy you all... Get every won back."

I wired the 180 million in Bitcoin from my account to theirs. Borrowed 3 billion on loans, but dumping it all at once screamed risky. My dick stayed rock-hard the whole transfer.

"Guk!!!"

The shaman who'd cast the Sal—Jang Chen—convulsed violently. A Wudang Taoist, holding the exalted rank of Jang Cheonsa, revered by all.

His 1st Grade Vengeful SpiritKilling Curse had backfired, rattling his spiritual energy to the core.

"Impossible... The Sal on that Korean detective—dispelled so easily?"

Shikigami usually beamed back death-scene intel before vanishing. He chanted, linking faintly to the moment.

"!!"

His vision filled with one massive image: a pale white hand fluttering like a butterfly.

A 1st Grade Vengeful Spirit—needing two Special Grade shamans to exorcise—winked out with a casual hand wave.

"A hand?? No incantation, no ritual... just a hand???"

Gulp. Jang Chen licked his dry lips, fighting the mounting tremors. The memory hit—he'd witnessed this before.

He fumbled his smartphone from his pocket, dialing with shaky fingers, mistyping repeatedly.

That shocking.

Jang Chen hung up and exhaled deeply. Regret sank in—he'd never meant to take on the Triad from the start.