Cornered by the Ultimate MILF Knight
As the footsteps thudding toward the warehouse grew steadily closer, Snow's and my faces drained of color in perfect sync. What do we do?!Daddy, what now?! To make matters worse, the secret door was just sealing shut—no escaping that way now.
What if we just bolted out? I'd lose my shot at Veronica, my target, before I even got started. Sure, you might say, You're an orc—scared of one measly Veronica, shaking like a leaf? But anyone calling me out right now, put 'em in my shoes and they'd shut up fast. I've dodged death more times than I can count since I started walking. Take that bear whose pelt I'm always draped in—the original owner. Back when I was a kid, that beast was the first overwhelming enemy I'd ever faced, one that could squash me flat no matter what. Years of "fun camping" with that thing honed my body until I finally broke free. Then came the Demon King's army freaks. Years on years of that shit, right up to Silveryia. I thought I'd toughened up amid those maniacs, but our "memorable" first meeting? She lopped off my arm before I could blink. Sure, I won dirty after, but still—thought no one tougher than her would show. Then some hero on steroids nearly ends me. Figured I'd gotten used to near-death brushes by now, no matter who popped up. But nope—now my orc senses are blaring DEFCON 1: Fight imminent, another monster-tier foe? How is this world so stacked? It's not like it's a festival of bullshit. No wonder the Demon King's crew got curb-stomped by humans. Hell, maybe the Demon King was the good guys and humans are the real assholes? Power-wise, humans are like chubby street punks, while our Demon King side's full of crybabies who'd run to their tanuki robot in the drawer bawling after one punch. And Veronica? Silveryia's own words when she sliced my left arm on first meet: "I'm still a fledgling compared to Mother, hehe☆." Makes sense? In Demon King terms: "Kehkeh, you beat Silveryia? But she's the weakest of our Four Heavenly Kings... 3,999 more to go." Straight-up 4000 Heavenly Kings level. Human side packed with beasts, Demon King basically a one-man show—this ain't a game! "Fucking balance patch sucks."
"Daddy?! This ain't the time for your bullshit!! Do something!!" Snow, mid-mental meltdown beside me, stomped and scolded. But what? Two exits: secret door (sealed) or mansion hallway (Veronica incoming). No choice. Might work? Nah, but nothing else. I jammed a Spartan warrior-style helmet over my face from the fancy medieval armors lining the wall, then slipped in among them, arms raised casually.
"What're you doing?" Snow stared, incredulous—right as the door slammed open!
"Handle that matter yourself... Snow?"
"M-Mother? Mom?"
"Snow, why are you...?"
Door bursts, I yank arms up in the classic "praise the sun" pose for camouflage. Silveryia's mom—my target—Veronica Isis. I sneak a peek. Signature Isis silver hair... not Silveryia's sapphire eyes, but sharp crimson like topaz-ruby mix. Body? "Ohhh yeah."
"What was that?"
"Huh?"
"What...?"
Fuck, close call. First real MILF I've seen, slipped out. Lucky Snow and Silveryia played it off. Ripe Silveryia perfected? Give her years from now, shaking my male instincts already—she'd hit Veronica level. Believable? Silveryia, birthing fifteen orc kids in three years, her beauty and curves still growing? And the ultimate evolution standing before me? Just a peek planned, but after years leveling up my tastes hugging Silveryia, here's a heavenly MILF dropping to earth to be my sow. My verdict on Veronica.
Oooh, look at those tits. Gonna burst. Swallowed hard, thinking I was sneaky—but my stare was too obvious. Lifetime knight's instincts caught it.
"Who's there!"
Hic! That icy glare from the cool married type nearly made me piss myself.
"Mother?"
"Step back, Silvi. Something else's here besides us."
Damn, my fault—couldn't hold back drooling over this juicy sow. Too late to play dumb; she knows someone's here. Can't dodge or hide. So... think, think, THINK! Veronica hand on sword hilt, poised to draw, scanning. Silveryia caught my presence from Snow's eyes, face urgent. Shit, eye contact.
Master!
Yeah!
Why're you there?!
Not the time!
Silveryia behind Veronica, sword half-drawn, pretending to guard—starts eye-talk. Your mom's a beast, ahem, come my way?
No! You'll take me hostage! Too risky!
Why!
Great idea, but before you grab me, Mother's sword takes your head!
That level? Modern guns make hostage plays work—in medieval? Dead before touch. Daddy! I smack her from behind? Snow eyes me worried, glances Veronica's nape. Could KO and play innocent, but Snow ain't got the chops yet. What now...!
Veronica's blade flashes toward my armor cluster—death closing in. Time's up! Then—flash! Brainstorm: perfect turnaround, saves my ass from this world.
Silveryia!
Yes, Master? Orders!
Hostage play's all we got.
What?!
Silveryia poker-faces like Veronica, but eyes scream you sane?—begs alternatives. Then gets it, flashes lewd tiny smile (Veronica-missable), nods.
"What's this? Why's this armor in praise-the-sun pose..." Veronica eyes it, thrusts at me.
Her sword inches from my heart—my signal hits, clang!
"Hngh♥"
"Silvi?"
Silveryia drops sword, flops down. No warning—she gasps ragged. Veronica(?) halts blade, confused. Dizzy from near-miss, I eye her, signal Silveryia.
Strip!
Yes!
No hugs lately, but my lechy gaze hearts her eyes—she flings off stifling clothes.
"Haa... haa... ♥"
"S-Silvi?! What's wrong—no, what're you doing!"
"Mom?!"
Snow hams it up—orc's math textbook for clueless Veronica. She sheathes toward me, approaches Silveryia.
"My body... my body... ♥"
"What is it, Silvi!"
"Mother..."
"Yes! Tell me, where's it hurt?"
Now naked, panting Silveryia licks lips lewdly at Veronica's grip.
"My body's... so hot... ♥"
Hostage? Doing it. Hostage? Silveryia. In my fave manga char style: "『Commence hostage operation.』 『Protect my life』 while making you my 『sow』—that's the orc dilemma, balancing both against Veronica."
"What?!"
Late reaction—Veronica spins from checking daughter to my pervert Spartan helmet.
"You ready? I am, Veronica Isis."
Miss this? I'm dead. Even superhuman she admits she can't handle—rushed parent won't stay cool with kid "stricken." That gap, split-second breath too short? "Plenty for pounding your breadbasket!"
Thwack!