Chapter 25 Pseudo-Cult Arrest Special Investigation Team & Mother-Discipline Uterus Press
Chapter 25 Pseudo-Cult Arrest Special Investigation Team & Mother-Discipline Uterus Press
The Incest Gallery was experiencing its golden age. Of course, it had occasionally climbed to double-digit rankings in the real-time popular galleries thanks to the grace of the Main Manager, but incest was a sexual preference tabooed and condemned by society. For that reason, it was unthinkable for the Incest Gallery to ever break into the single-digit rankings. And for a gallery that should have remained in the shadows, it was something that should never have happened.
Yet it did.
Because of lewd photos and GIFs that far surpassed the level of ordinary incest verification posts. Because of the obscene mother-son sex photos that not only aroused incest enthusiasts but even made the self-righteous hypocrites—who foamed at the mouth screaming that such deviants should be eradicated—hard as rocks.
[LMAO I can hear "Ohhh, ohhh, ohhhh" from next door right now ㅋㅋㅋㅋ] [3]
[Fuck, I just broke my daily jerk-off record today. My dick's gonna fall off ㄷㄷㄷ] [2]
[The mother-son incest boom is coming...! The mother-son incest boom is coming...! The mother-son incest boom is coming...!] [12]
[Watching that crazy cult bitch get wrecked while crying tears of joy ㅠㅠ] [3]
[What the fuck, why is this turning me on?? My brain's rotting if I'm getting hard from this shit!!!!] [3]
Though the Incest Gallery was relatively large among minor galleries, most users lurked, rarely posting under fixed nicknames out of fear of societal judgment. But now, high-profile regulars who had never been seen before were flooding the gallery. Longtime lurkers. Men who had wandered in from other sites just to see the perfect tits of an insanely hot woman. Women who wanted to watch the well-endowed son (whose face wasn't shown but was clearly handsome) of the Main Manager fuck. Internet wreckers busy reposting the son's content elsewhere. And even victims who knew the identity of the panting woman in the videos—a high-ranking member of the Cheonmyeong Cult.
By the time the Incest Gallery hit #1 in the real-time rankings, the videos posted by the Main Manager's son had begun dominating the front pages of other sites. It didn't take long for not just the gallery, but the entire internet—no, the entire country—to witness Moon Ye-hwa's face gasping beneath her son.
And that included Han Ji-su, the youngest detective in the Pseudo-Cult Special Investigation Team, who was currently tailing Kang Da-eun, another high-ranking cult member.
Han Ji-su was one of the more notorious fixed nicknames in the Incest Gallery. Her username: Younger Brother Who Loves Femboy Older Brother.
It wasn't because she—an elite detective who had joined the special investigation team thanks to her outstanding record and numerous arrests while other women her age were enjoying campus life—had some secret degenerate fetish that made her choose such a name.
This was all part of the investigation.
Rumors had spread (almost like urban legends) that if someone repeatedly exposed their perverted desires in the Incest Gallery while claiming they needed the Holy Medicine, a cult member would eventually reach out via private message. On the surface, the gallery might seem like any other forum, but in reality, it was one of the many distribution channels the cult used to sell their Holy Medicine.
No concrete evidence had been found yet, and the servers were overseas, making cooperation impossible. But the fact that Moon Ye-hwa herself was a moderator all but confirmed it.
So it wasn't unusual for Han Ji-su to be browsing the gallery while surveilling Kang Da-eun from her car.
And she had made progress.
Moon Ye-hwa was meticulous—even when posting vulgar language and obscene photos, she never let anything slip that could reveal her identity. But for some reason, she was now uploading photos that exposed far too much.
Of course, none of it was solid evidence yet. But if enough piled up, it could help build a case. So Ji-su saved every post from the man claiming to be her son.
But her son? Why isn't she posting them herself?
Profiling suggested Ye-hwa craved attention intensely. A woman like that wouldn't give up an opportunity for the spotlight.
Is this just an impersonator?
Ji-su double-clicked the breasts in one of the posts. The enlarged photo clearly showed the unmistakable chest of the Main Manager—a sight any regular in the Incest Gallery would recognize.
She couldn't be sure if the man posting was really Ye-hwa's son, but the woman in the photos was undeniably Moon Ye-hwa.
Then... is he really her son? This man? This huge-dicked bastard is actually her son?
Timing-wise, it matched. Right now, Ye-hwa was inside the funeral home, and the only man there besides the cult leader's corpse was his son.
But her son?
Ji-su had long known Ye-hwa was a monster who deserved to rot in prison. But to think she was this insane—fucking her own son and posting it publicly in the gallery?
Ye-hwa was as cunning as she was cruel. Ji-su had been certain she'd never do something so blatant.
Then the alleged son posted again.
Without hesitation, Ji-su opened it.
A video.
It was even more hardcore.
The sound of a man—presumably the son—forcing his abnormally large cock deep down the throat of the woman believed to be Ye-hwa filled her ears.
Ji-su grimaced. Even regular couples wouldn't engage in such rough play, let alone a mother and son.
Despite spending months posting degenerate trash in the gallery for the investigation, she was no different from normal people in her disgust for incest.
Maybe that was why, no matter how desperately she begged for the Holy Medicine in her posts, no cult liaison ever approached her.
[Son! Son! ...You—Lee Eun-woo, you fucking bastard! You think you can do this to me and get away with it?!]
Hearing Ye-hwa's voice in the video twisted Ji-su's expression into something neither happy nor sad.
Over her years in the special investigation team, Ji-su had built a profile of Moon Ye-hwa—the criminal she wanted to catch most.
Outwardly, she was warm, accepting, gentle. Like a cherished only daughter raised with love by wealthy parents.
But that was just the facade.
In truth, she was one of the most vicious women in the Cheonmyeong Cult, an organization teeming with fanatics.
That was Moon Ye-hwa.
So who was this woman in the video, spouting defeatist lines like some third-rate villain?
This woman, stripped of all composure, reduced to weakness?
And who was the man confidently chasing her down?
Surely not actually her son.
No cultist would treat their own mother like this.
[...I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry for everything, okay?!]
Ye-hwa's voice—a mix of panic, anger, groveling, and arousal—hammered against Ji-su's eardrums.
Ji-su smirked bitterly.
This was the same Moon Ye-hwa who had never once apologized to the families torn apart by her cult.
[What the fuck are you sorry for, you bitch?] the man's voice growled. [For sexually harassing me every time we met because you wanted to suck your son's dick? For using my body as a test subject for your Holy Medicine? Or for being such a slut that you're drooling even in this situation? Which one?]
When his voice—low, rough, yet oddly pleasant—reached her, Ji-su unconsciously inhaled sharply.
Hnngh.
It was a deep voice, but not grating. If anything, she wanted to hear more. And it wasn't purely masculine—there was still a youthful freshness to it, a hint of boyish charm.
It was perfect. No, better than perfect.
Unconsciously, Ji-su's eyes locked onto the man in the video.
Before joining the special investigation team, she had worked in violent crimes. Even when locking up hulking, vicious criminals, she had always remained ice-cold.
But now, that composure was gone.
Without realizing it, she had forgotten she was even on a mission, waiting for the next post like any other woman her age just looking for a cheap thrill.
Luckily, the posts kept coming.
She immediately opened the next one.
A close-up of Ye-hwa's ass filled the screen—and in the corner, barely visible but stealing the show, was the son's thick, well-shaped cock.
Gulp.
Ji-su swallowed, so engrossed she forgot her colleagues were watching—until she belatedly noticed their stares.
She paused the video and looked up.
[Aaaahh, f-fuuuuck, if—if you go back to the cult, they'll—ah, ahhh—dismember y—ohhh, ohhhh♥♥]
[Shut up, Mom. Your mouth's not for talking. Save your breath for clenching around my dick.]
Yet Ye-hwa's humiliated moans and the son's crude taunts kept playing in her ears.
Confused, Ji-su turned toward the source of the stares.
Park Cheol-woo, a senior detective who still acted awkward around her despite her junior status, looked embarrassed for her.
And beside him, Team Leader Ryu Ga-hyeon wore a mischievous grin.
Why are they—?
Just then, Ye-hwa's obscene moans erupted from her phone again.
[Ughhh! Ohhh! Ohhh, ohhhh!]
This was Moon Ye-hwa—the woman who had calmly served tea to Team Leader Ryu while dozens of cops stormed her home the day the cult leader was arrested.
Now, she was completely broken, reduced to a moaning mess.
For a brief moment, Ji-su felt a rush of schadenfreude—and something else.
Then, snapping back to reality, she shouted:
"It's not what it looks like!"
"Hey, it's fine. You've been undercover for months," Cheol-woo said awkwardly.
"Wow, Ji-su," Ga-hyeon teased. "I thought you were all work, but you've got quite the wild side, huh?"
"I told you, it's not like that!"
[Hahh, s-son, your—your dick's too big, I—I can't take it all!]
Ye-hwa's voice rang out again.
"Ugh, ugh. That bastard is really something. Unbelievable."
Park Cheol-woo glanced at Han Ji-su's smartphone on her lap and muttered, "It's a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding!"
[You like your son's dick that much, you chicken?]
Thump, thump, thump, thud♥
It took Han Ji-su a moment to make the two understand the situation, but eventually, Ryu Ga-hyeon and Park Cheol-woo grasped what was happening in the Incest Gallery and grew serious.
"Ji-su. You have the cult leader's son's file, right? Pull it out," Ryu Ga-hyeon said.
Han Ji-su retrieved the file from the pile of evidence stacked in the backseat and handed it to Ryu Ga-hyeon. Ryu Ga-hyeon stared at it silently for a long while, and Ji-su and Cheol-woo, not wanting to disturb her deep concentration, even held their breaths, let alone ask her anything.
Finally, Ryu Ga-hyeon seemed to have sorted her thoughts and spoke—her voice no longer playful but that of a hero who had dedicated her life to justice.
"Cheol-woo, Ji-su."
"Yes!"
"Understood!"
Park Cheol-woo and Han Ji-su answered simultaneously.
"Let's end this tedious undercover investigation here. And begin."
"What do you mean by that—?"
As Park Cheol-woo asked, Ryu Ga-hyeon turned her gaze toward the car's windshield. There, stumbling drunkenly down the dark street, was Kang Da-eun.
"Let's throw a stone into the lake first. We'll see if the cult leader's son, raised in that household, is a fish or a serpent."
Ryu Ga-hyeon's words were cryptic, but Han Ji-su began to feel a flicker of hope. It made sense—before Ryu Ga-hyeon became a national hero for arresting the Cheonmyeong Cult leader, she had already been a genius investigator with a track record of capturing all kinds of criminals and serial killers.
"W-wait! Don't take it! Don't take it! I said don't take it, nooo!"
First Mother covered her face with both hands and screamed.
"You already uploaded my son's dick to the gallery, and now you're acting like this?"
"Is that the same as this? My face is fully exposed!"
I ignored First Mother's protests, pressing my cock against her lips.
"Telling me not to take it? Then don't drool all over your pussy, Mom. It's disgusting."
"You little—how dare you say that to your own mother...!"
Enraged, First Mother bared her fangs slightly, as if she might bite my cock. But the moment she saw the smartphone in my hand, she seemed to realize she couldn't resist and obediently took the head of my cock into her mouth.
"Wahh. Hnngh... What in the world... is my son... thinking? Going this far...?"
"What am I thinking? Exactly this."
I slapped First Mother's face with my cock.
"Ahggh! Y-you're hitting me now, you depraved bastard."
"It's a disciplinary slap. With my dick, so it's a loving punishment."
"That's nonsense—"
Moon Ye-hwa cut herself off, realizing the absurdity of her words—words she had often said to me when I was younger.
I grabbed First Mother's ankle, still defiant despite her vulnerability, and pulled her toward me. Then, without foreplay, consideration, or love, I began thrusting into her ass—purely to satisfy my own lust.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!♥
"Ughhh—yaaaahhh! Ughhh—yaaaahhh! Yaaaaaaahhh!"
First Mother's voice had already devolved beyond moans into something barely coherent.