"So, your brother..." Geesa began, her voice casual.
"Doesn't see you that way."
She smiled, as Aria nodded—awkwardly.
"It's... weird to put it like that," Aria mumbled.
Geesa waved a hand dismissively.
"Just an example. I know you're not actually into him like that."
Her tone was light, reassuring, even if she sensed more.
Aria nodded.
"As long as you know that."
Geesa smiled, slow and calm.
"Alright then. So we just need to work on it—get your brother to grow some... pent-up feelings for you."
Aria nodded again, more hesitantly this time.
"And I'm guessing you don't have much time?"
"You could put it that way..." Aria replied, voice tight.
She couldn't say it outright—not to Geesa. That she wanted to get there first, to lay claim before her mother could. Instead, she masked it behind vague urgency.
Geesa studied her for a second, then nodded.
"Okay," she said simply.
"If you're saying you've got limited time—" Geesa began, her tone turning serious,
"—and you want him hooked fast..."
She paused.
"Then there's only one way."
Aria leaned in, eyes focused, breath stilling. Geesa met her gaze.
"Just follow exactly what I tell you."
Aria nodded immediately—eager, focused.
"Alright,"
----------------------
Meanwhile, inside the house—
"Ugh..." Liend groaned.
Unconscious until now, a dull ache in his lower body stirred him awake. His face twisted with discomfort as he shifted slightly beneath the warm air of the dimly lit room—Kiana's bedroom.
"Did I... drink too much?" he muttered to himself, voice hoarse.
But as he stirred, trying to stretch out the stiffness in his muscles, a sharper jolt pulsed below his abdomen.
"No," he winced, raising a hand to his forehead.
"This pain... it's not just from drinking."
With effort, he flexed his core, neck tilting forward to look down. He pressed a hand to his stomach, forcing himself upright.
"Ugh..." he groaned again, eyes narrowing as he looked at himself.
"Why am I...?" he murmured.
His mind stumbled—thoughts rushing in fragments as he realized his body was bare. His breathing caught. Then, slowly—
"Mom..." he whispered, the memory breaking through in flashes.
His gaze dropped again—to his legs, his skin. Clean. The sheets beneath him bore a faint mark—just beneath his pelvis.
Even his groin... freshly wiped. Almost deliberately.
And then he noticed it—a subtle wetness. A faint, sticky trail from his shaft, barely visible, yet enough to dampen the sheet beneath him.
Something had coming out.
Still dripping.
Liend stared, frozen, as his thoughts spiraled.
His legs dangled loosely off the edge of the bedframe as Liend looked around, eyes scanning the unfamiliar space.
"Where...?" he murmured.
His gaze drifted across the room—something about it felt familiar, but not enough to ground him.
The shelves were neat, unlike his own—scratched, creaky, often falling apart whenever he lost his temper after a game.
One shelf stood partially open. The cupboard—half-ajar. Liend stared at it, unsure.
"Ugh..." he groaned, swinging a leg forward and attempting to stand. He pushed off the bed, sliding down—
"What..." his thoughts spun—still foggy—when suddenly, his body gave out.
His legs, still numb and sluggish, didn't respond. The fall was quick—a dull thud as he hit the carpet.
Thankfully, the softness spared him any real injury, though his nose took a slight hit.
"Agh..." Liend grunted, lying on his side, breath caught.
He tilted his head, eyes tracing the angle of his right leg—bent in a way that felt wrong.
And then it hit—the rush of blood returning.
The nerves fired. Pain surged.
"Aaagh!" he shouted, gripping his thigh and forcing his leg straight with a jerk.
"What the hell..." he hissed, grimacing. He planted a palm to the carpet, muscles straining, as he slowly began lifting himself off the floor.
He reached out, grabbing onto something—he wasn't sure what. A shelf, maybe a table. It didn't matter. He just needed to stay upright.
With effort, Liend pushed against it, steadying himself as he limped forward. His legs, still weak and half-numb, wobbled beneath him. Blood was finally returning to them—slow, prickling, painful.
Step by step, he made his way toward the half-open cupboard.
By the time he reached it, his legs were holding better—shaky, but functional. With a shaky hand, he grabbed the other door and pulled.
The cupboard creaked open—wide.
Liend let out a small grunt as he leaned in, supporting himself against the frame. Until now, he'd only seen the edge from the side. But now—face to face with whatever lay inside—his eyes narrowed.
His breath caught.
His mind—rushed.
Beads. Chains. Toys—lined up neatly inside.
Some soft. Some hard.
Handcuffs. Restraints. Materials ranging from silicone to something more advanced—just from the sheen, the finish.
And then... shapes.
Phallic ones. Dozens of them.
Some were exaggerated—oversized. Some disturbingly detailed—veins, curvature, and tips too familiar.
Custom... molded.
Liend's breath hitched.
Some of them—exact. His shape. His length. Multiple sizes—small, half-hardened, and fully erect. The resemblance was uncanny.
Some even modified—smooth bumps, ridges, tiny studs running along the shaft. The variations were deliberate. Designed. Enhanced.
These weren't random toys.
Most of them, were made with his thing in mind.
His mind blinked—blank, scrambled—struggling to process. This was the first thing he'd truly seen since waking.
And it sent his consciousness spinning.
And then—
An old memory—fragmented, half-buried—rose unbidden.
Flashes. Feelings. Glimpses from a time long tucked away.
His mind reflected... and it came back.
--------------
"What's that, Mom...?"
A younger Liend—barely at the edge of his middle school years—had asked, voice small and uncertain.
In front of him, frozen mid-motion, was his mother. Kiana.
She had accidentally left her bedroom door open. It was midnight. The house quiet. The hallway dim.
And the boy—curious, unaware—had wandered in.
She hadn't noticed at first. She was breathless—heaving. Beneath her, a large dildo disappeared entirely inside her, her hips rocking with abandon. A pair of handcuffs clinked tightly on her wrists—keeping her hand cuffed at back.
To the side—wide open—the same cupboard. Fully displayed. Toys of all kinds lined its shelves. Her toys. His mother's.
Kiana had stopped the moment she saw him. A gasp caught in her throat. Her body stilled. Her voice—strained, hazy with shock and breathlessness—trembled as she looked at him.
She mouthed the words, barely audible.
"Women's essentials, Liend."
She hadn't lied, even then.
"Let momma help you sleep. You had a bad dream again...?" Kiana had asked, her voice gentle—almost too gentle—as she stood up.
Liend's memory of that night was hazy, blurred at the edges, but parts of it still remained—too vivid to forget completely.
He remembered how she rose, unfastening the cuffs from her wrists, carefully returning the toys to the cupboard. Then, quietly, she had taken his hand—warm, soft—and led him toward her bed.
"Let momma help you sleep..."
Those were the last words he remembered clearly.
After that, everything faded into a strange, heavy sleep. He remembered her beside him—arms around him, soft breath on the back of his neck—loving, caring, comforting.
And after that night...Things had changed.
Slowly.
Subtly.
Her nature began to shift—bit by bit. The warmth remained, but it deepened into something else. Something more.
Obsession.
Little by little, it grew—until it wasn't just motherly love anymore.
His life had taken a strange turn after that night.
A constant itch—deep down, below—had started right after, as if something had been triggered. As if something had happened.
The next morning, he'd woken up wet.
But not the kind of accident he'd had as a child.
He hadn't wet the bed since entering middle school—and yet, there it was. Damp sheets. An unfamiliar heaviness in his body.
What stayed with him most, though, wasn't the wetness.
It was her reaction.
His mother hadn't scolded him. She hadn't questioned him.
She had simply smiled—gently—like it was something precious.
She'd patted his head, leaned in, and kissed his forehead.
"You've grown up now..."
He could still hear her voice—soft, proud.
It was the first time he'd seen her so calm. So genuinely happy.
Not busy. Not stressed.
Just... content.
She had seemed genuinely happy that day—strangely, unmistakably happy.
Even back then, he'd noticed something wasn't right. The texture of what he thought was pee… it hadn't felt like water. It was thicker—sticky. Something else.
He remembered how his mother had taken those briefs. The ones from that morning. He never saw them again.
The first pair he'd ever come in—gone.
And after that, every time it happened again, late into the night, she'd quietly replace them. No questions. No explanations. Every time he asked, she'd ignore it—casually, like it didn't matter.
---------------
"Mom..."
Liend finally murmured aloud, the memory crashing in—unexpected and jarring.
He stared forward now, eyes falling once again on the contents of the open cupboard.
Women's essentials, she had called them once.
The sight. The memory. The faint, sticky sensation still in his body—
It all came rushing back.
Even moments before he'd fainted today—that too.