Conquest of the Mother and Daughters - The Conquered Family
Tatsuhiro Yamashita's worn leather shoes scraped against the familiar asphalt. The sun was dipping low, and the smell of dinner preparations wafted through the neighborhood. It had been a hellish day. But now it was fine. Soon, his sanctuary, his haven of a home, would appear.
His wife Aki's warm smile, and his two lovely daughters—slightly noisy but utterly adorable—Chiharu and Koharu, would greet him. That thought alone was the frayed lifeline keeping his battered mind from unraveling.
He turned the familiar corner. The cherry tree that had always been there came into view, along with the Suzuki family's garden next door, unchanged as ever. Next should be... right there, his house.
"...Huh?"
Tatsuhiro's footsteps halted abruptly. A dazed sound escaped his lips.
Nothing was there.
Where his house had clearly stood, there was now just an impeccably cleared empty lot, as if it had never existed at all. The lot, with dusk beginning to settle, felt less like a real landscape and more like a photo someone had Photoshopped into emptiness—alien and hollow.
"Did I... see wrong?"
He rubbed his eyes. Blinked repeatedly. But the scene didn't change. Drawn like a moth to flame, he stepped onto the lot. The soil underfoot felt vividly real. Just yesterday, his wife had tended a little flower bed here. This was where he'd played catch with his daughters on the lawn. This was where his entire life—his home—had been. And now, all of it had vanished without a trace.
Panic crashed over him like a tidal wave. "Aki! Chiharu! Koharu!" He screamed like a madman, calling his wife and daughters until his throat tore. But the only reply was the cold whisper of the evening breeze. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone and dialed Aki.
Ring... Ring...
[The number you have dialed is no longer in service...]
The icy automated voice shattered his hope. He pounded on the Suzukis' doorbell next door like a maniac. The door opened, and Mr. Suzuki peered out with a puzzled expression.
"Yamashita? What's wrong? Why are you yelling at that empty lot?"
"...What? Suzuki-san, what are you talking about? My house! My house is gone!"
Mr. Suzuki's face filled with awkward concern. "Yamashita... calm down. That's always been an empty lot. Ever since you moved into the neighborhood..."
Tatsuhiro's mind went blank. Sympathy mixed with wary caution in Mr. Suzuki's eyes, as if he were looking at a lunatic. It felt like the whole world was pulling off some massive hidden-camera prank on him. Staggering backward, he wandered the neighborhood in a daze. Maybe he'd come to the wrong one? But everything was familiar—the convenience store, the park, the old shrine. Everything in its place, except his house and family, erased from existence.
Night deepened. Exhausted by despair and fatigue, his stumbling steps led him back to the lot. As the eastern sky paled faintly, an unbelievable sight unfolded before him. The empty space shimmered like heat haze, and then, as if emerging from fog, his familiar house materialized into reality.
"Ah... Aah...!"
Tears of relief and joy streaming down his face, he rushed to the front door. But the key turned futilely; the door stood firm like a boulder. As he pounded and cried out desperately from the depths of despair, a miraculous click echoed from the lock.
He jerked his head up. Slowly, chillingly slowly, the door creaked open. There stood his wife, Aki, dressed in a unfamiliar, glamorous kimono—the very one he'd scrimped to buy her. But no warm smile greeted him. Empty eyes. A doll-like blankness, stripped of all emotion.
"Aki! Honey! What the hell...!"
Tatsuhiro lunged toward her, but Aki coldly raised a hand to stop him. "The Master has a message for you."
"...Master?"
His brain rejected the word. It was grotesque, alien—something Aki would never say. Ignoring his confusion, she continued like a recording.
"Foolish contract breaker. If you admit your sin and resolve to surrender everything, you may enter. Walk on your own feet to the altar of judgment."
It was Aki's voice, but not her words. She was merely a vessel delivering someone else's will. Instinctive terror made Tatsuhiro back away, but he clenched his teeth. He had to know what happened. He had to see his daughters, confirm his family. Staggering like a condemned man to the gallows, he crossed his own threshold.
The door slammed shut behind him with a thud, and the air changed. No longer the home he knew. The scent of expensive agarwood incense assaulted his nose, but beneath its sanctity lurked something primal and sticky: the heated musk of three women's arousal, sweat from humiliating acts, and dominating it all, the thick, arrogant male pheromone of a stranger. The vile cocktail invaded his lungs like an aphrodisiac, numbing reason and instinct alike. Despite the daytime hour, the house was pitch black, lit only by eerie red lanterns casting lewd shadows on the walls.
The first thing that caught his eye on the entryway cabinet were bizarre objects, like cursed offerings on an altar. Three small ebony boxes sat side by side, each displaying rings woven with horrific bonds.
The first ring was crafted from Aki's glossy black head hair and her mature pubic hair, proof of how the dignity of his once-noble wife and mother had been defiled. The second from Chiharu's healthy locks and the shy pubic tuft of a girl just becoming a woman, showing her youth and defiance broken. The last from Koharu's soft hair and her delicate, downy pubic fuzz, brazenly revealing how pure worship had twisted into the lewdest form.
Beside the rings sat three pairs of crystal vials and pearl-like glass orbs.
The first vial and orb were Aki's. Proof of her "second" virginity offered up—her hymen, restored by magic only to be torn again, preserved in the orb, with the crimson blood from that moment filling the vial. The cruelest trophy, declaring her past erased and redefined by a new master.
The second set was Chiharu's, capturing her first agony and ecstasy. The last, Koharu's—her purest, frailest innocence crushed, shown in a crystal-clear droplet of blood and a fragile flesh fragment.
Three deflowerings his wife and daughters endured—their pain, pleasure, humiliation, and ecstasy—immortalized as beautiful, horrific ornaments, mocking him eternally.
Next to them, on velvet stands, three diamond-like crystals sparkled. Transparent love juices from uncontrollable climaxes, hot sweat poured like rain amid degradation, tears of sorrow and rapture as they surrendered—all fused by magic into dreadful gems. He sensed his wife and daughters' souls melted wholly within those tiny crystals.
His head spun. Staggering down the hall, he saw the family photos from happier times gone. In their place hung grotesque artworks evoking hellscapes, ink prints of overwhelmingly voluptuous, ripe breasts and nipples. Aki's, no doubt. Beside them, breasts rivaling her mother's in size but bursting with youthful firmness—Chiharu's. And contrasting them, a shy budding flower of a small chest, just blossoming—Koharu's.
Not mere prints. Glossy, fresh fluid stains overlaid the ink, like milk from hardened nipples in arousal. Over those traces, vivid red lipstick marks stamped like branding claims of ownership.
Below the breast prints hung even more shocking images: spread luscious ass clefts, women's most intimate parts shamefully exposed—pussy imprints. Three different shapes and sizes of flowers, pinned to the wall like insect specimens. Vomit rose in his throat at his wife and daughters' most secret places displayed so brazenly. Like a hunter draping flayed beast hides, cruel emblems of possession.
Finally, he reached the living room door. And he saw.
All furniture gone. In its place, a grand jade throne, and atop it, a stranger—Jinwoo—reigning like the house's lord, god, and king. At his feet...
At his feet knelt the three women who had once been his family.
Aki wore the most lavish, expensive formal kimono he'd toiled to afford—deep navy with golden crane embroidery, once symbolizing her dignity as matriarch.
Chiharu donned the vivid red furisode he'd strained to buy as her coming-of-age gift, once blessing her bright future—now a sacrificial garment of her youth.
Koharu wore the soft pink floral kimono he'd bought that she loved most, symbol of the pure daughter raised in his love.
The clothes bought with his blood and sweat now served as humiliating vestments to welcome another man, right before his eyes.
"You're here."
Jinwoo spoke lowly. His voice dripped with arrogant omniscience.
"...You... What the hell have you done? What did you do to my family!"
Tatsuhiro screamed, losing all reason. But Jinwoo didn't flinch. He merely tsked pityingly.
"Your family? They are no longer yours. And I didn't create this—you did, Tatsuhiro Yamashita."
"What... What are you talking about!"
"Don't you remember? The day after signing the contract. At your company. What you blabbed to your boss over lunch."
Jinwoo's words faintly dredged up the memory. A lunch break amid exhaustion and maxed-out stress. When his boss asked if anything good happened lately, he'd blurted thoughtlessly, without meaning.
'No, Section Chief. Just... met some amazing wizard yesterday... Haha, kidding.'
The boss patted his shoulder: "You must be stressed. Hang in there." That was it. Meaningless chit-chat.
"No way... That... That was...?"
Tatsuhiro paled. Jinwoo laughed mockingly.
"Yes, exactly. 'Wizard'. Never reveal who I am or the contract to anyone. That was the core of the NDA. Yet you broke it before the ink dried—not even a full day—with your loose, foolish tongue. Most pathetic? You didn't even realize you'd violated it."
Jinwoo rose, manifesting the contract in midair—the very one Tatsuhiro had signed.
"See for yourself."
He pointed to a clause, which glowed blood-red.
Upon violation of the Non-Disclosure Agreement, Party A Tatsuhiro Yamashita shall forfeit as penalty all ownership and parental rights to his house, his wife Aki Yamashita, and his daughters Chiharu Yamashita and Koharu Yamashita to Party B, completely, permanently, and irrevocably.
"You signed it yourself. And you broke it."
Jinwoo incinerated the contract to ash before his eyes and proclaimed,
"Therefore, from this moment, this house is my sanctuary, and your wife and daughters are my property—my slaves."