Olivia stood frozen, her face a mask of absolute shock as Kafka's shaless words hung in the air.
Her son—her own son, had just pointed at her massive, straining breasts and called them out, describing their size and firmness with a brazenness that left her reeling.
No mother expected to hear such blunt, almost crude comntary from her child, and her cheeks burned a deep crimson, her hands instinctively moving to cover her chest as if she could shield herself from the embarrassnt.
She opened her mouth, ready to what the hell he was saying to his own mother when she noticed Abigaille's expression shift. Expecting her partner as a parent to reprimand Kafka for his inappropriate remark, Olivia braced herself, hoping Abigaille would steer the conversation back to safer ground.
But to her utter disbelief, Abigaille did no such thing.
Instead, her eyes widened, her gaze locking onto Olivia's breasts with exasperation and incredulous amusent, as if they were indeed the weapons Kafka had claid.
"Olivia, how could you?" Abigaille exclaid, her voice dripping with exaggerated indignation as she threw her hands up. "First, you try to kill him with a knife, and now you're sending him flying across the room with those...Those obnoxious breasts of yours!"
Olivia's jaw dropped, her fluster deepening as she realized Abigaille was not only failing to scold Kafka but joining in on his absurd reasoning.
"W-What are you talking about?" She sputtered, her voice high with panic, her hands flailing as she tried to make sense of the situation. "Why are we talking about my breasts like they're weapons? This is ridiculous!"
But Abigaille only stepped forward, her lips twitching with a barely suppressed grin as she closed the distance between them.
"Oh, they're weapons, Liv, don't you dare deny it."
She said, her tone teasing but edged with a playful awe. She then reached out, and to Olivia's shock, her hands landed on Olivia's massive breasts, groping them with an intimate, almost reverent touch.
"When you've got tits this huge, so big they're probably carrying half your body weight..." Her fingers squeezed the firm, elastic mounds, making them jiggle under her suit. "...it's only natural they act like bouncy balls, sending a full man like Kafi flying across the room!"
Olivia's face turned an even deeper shade of red, her breath catching as Abigaille's hands continued to knead her breasts, her touch bold and unapologetic.
"Abi!" She squeaked, her voice full of panic and embarrassnt. "What are you doing? Stop that!"
Even though she was used to a certain level of intimacy with Abigaille—her best friend and partner, she'd never been groped so blatantly, especially not in front of Kafka.
Her eyes darted to her son, who stood there, his grin wide and unabashed, watching the scene unfold with intrigue and sothing darker, a glint of interest that made her stomach twist with unease.
Abigaille, undeterred and caught in the mont, kept groping, her fingers sinking into the soft, firm flesh as she marveled aloud.
"I an, I always knew they had so power, Liv. Every ti we hugged, I could feel this...pushing force, like I was being repelled. But I never thought they'd actually launch soone! These things are lethal!"
She gave Olivia's breasts another playful squeeze, making them bounce, her laughter bubbling up as she shook her head in disbelief.
Olivia's panic spiked, her hands hovering uselessly as she tried to process the absurdity of the mont.
"This...This isn't funny, Abi!" She protested, her voice trembling. "And Kafi's right there! He shouldn't be seeing this!"
Her eyes flicked to Kafka again, who was now leaning casually against the couch, his arms crossed, his grin only growing wider as he watched Abigaille fondle his other mother. The sight of him so unfazed, so entertained, sent a wave of confusion through her.
Abigaille was also usually so responsible, so careful about setting boundaries around Kafka—how could she be acting like this, groping her in such an intimate, almost provocative way right in front of him? What was going on in this household?
Abigaille, caught in the mont, also finally registered Olivia's panicked expression. A jolt of realization hit her—she'd let her intimacy with Kafka, their taboo connection, and how she normally behaved with the other girls around blur her judgnt, making her forget the boundaries she should uphold in front of Olivia.
Her hands froze on Olivia's breasts, her face flushing as she yanked them back, her mind scrambling for an excuse.
"I...uh..." She stamred, her voice faltering as no plausible explanation ca to mind.
Groping her best friend's breasts in front of their son was undeniably inappropriate, and the panic in her chest tightened she couldn't let Olivia suspect the truth about her and Kafka, not on the day of their reunion.
But just as Kafka was watching this scene with a hint of mischief in his eyes, wanting to know how exactly her mother was going to escape from the situation she put herself in and what absurd reason she was going to use to excuse herself, a request suddenly ca from the gods above.
Ding~
[The God of Destiny Uriel sends a request: Save your mother Abigaille from embarrassing situation she put herself in and convince your mother Olivia that such intimacy between a mother and son was fine]
[Successfully fulfill the request and gain the Gods satisfaction and approval]
[Fail the given request and be crushed under the weight of the Auroras of Destiny]
'Hmm...It seems like the gods don't really want to see my mother suffering to much and want to save her...And, I was going to spin up a story nonetheless, so this request shouldn't be too hard I guess, unless my mother is dead set on not believing what I say.'
So, before Abigaille could cobble together a defense, Kafka stepped in, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation and to make a story full-proof enough that it saved his life
"No, Mom...It's fine." He said as he looked at Olivia, his grin casual but his eyes sharp, reading the room with practiced ease. "It's not big deal whatsoever. Even if I saw sothing like that, it's not a problem. I'm not so kid who's gonna freak out over a little...touching."
Olivia's jaw dropped, her outrage mingling with confusion as she whirled to face him.
"W-What are you talking about, Kafi?" She demanded, her voice rising with disbelief. "It's not okay for you to see sothing like that! It's...It's inappropriate for a son to watch his mother—his mothers, being touched like that!"
"...And to act like it's no big deal? Why would you even say that?" Her cheeks bud, her hands gesturing wildly as she struggled to articulate her shock.
Abigaille's heart pounded, a wave of panic surging through her. Olivia's questions were veering dangerously close to exposing the secret she and Kafka shared.
She'd wanted this day to be a wholeso reunion, not a horrible unraveling of their taboo relationship. Her mind raced, searching for a way to defuse the situation, but Kafka, ever quick on his feet, flashed a disarming smile, his tone effortlessly casual, as if he'd anticipated this exact mont.
"You're right, Mom." He said, his voice calm and conciliatory, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "It's totally inappropriate for a son to see that kind of thing, or to make comnts about his mom's...assets, like I did earlier."
He nodded toward her, his expression sincere enough to ease her suspicion, though Olivia's brow furrowed, unsure where he was going.
"But here's the thing, that kind of logic, that common sense? It applies everywhere else. But not here."
"...Not in this village."
Olivia blinked, her outrage giving way to intrigue, her head tilting as she processed his words.
"What...What do you an?" She asked, her voice softening, curiosity piqued. "What's so different about this place?"
Abigaille's eyes widened, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. She knew Kafka was spinning a tale, a clever deflection to cover their tracks, but she stayed silent, trusting him to navigate the mont.
Kafka took a step forward, his grin turning storyteller-like, his voice taking on a dramatic cadence. "Before I get to the main issue, Mom, you gotta understand the history of this town."
"Way, way back, hundreds of years ago, when there was no electricity, no cars, and people had to hunt for their food, this place was just a tiny village. Maybe fifty houses, tops, completely cut off from the rest of the world."
Olivia leaned forward slightly, her nerdy side kicking in, her love of history drawing her into the story despite her earlier shock.
"Cut off? Why?" She asked, her voice genuinely curious.
Kafka gestured toward the window, where the distant peaks of the surrounding mountains lood.
"This village is stuck in a valley, surrounded by a massive mountain range—treacherous paths, steep cliffs, dense forests. It's a long, brutal drive to the city even now, right? Back then, it was damn near impossible to leave on foot. And it wasn't just the terrain."
"The areas around here were crawling with danger—wild animals, predators that'd take you out without a second thought. Beautiful birds, sure, but also tigers prowling the mountains, bears that'd rip you apart if you crossed their path."
Olivia nodded, her eyes wide as she pictured it. She rembered the allure of this place when they'd chosen to settle here—not the danger, but the raw, untad beauty, the closeness to nature.
"That makes sense." She said softly. "It's why we picked this spot, isn't it? The nature, the isolation."
"Exactly." Kafka said, his voice smooth, drawing her deeper into his tale. "But back then, that isolation was a double-edged sword. The villagers rarely left. It was too risky, so they did everything within the village walls—farming, crafting, living. Staying safe."
"...But they couldn't stay locked up forever. They needed food, at, resources. So it fell to the n of each household to go out and hunt."
Olivia's expression softened, her curiosity growing though a flicker of sadness crossed her face as she sensed where the story was heading.
"That sounds....dangerous." She murmured.
Kafka nodded, his tone grave.
"It was. The outside world was brutal. n went out to hunt, but too often, they didn't co back. A leopard, a wolf, a misstep on a cliff—too many t an unfortunate end. The village was small, and losing n like that...It hit hard."
Olivia gasped softly, her fascination with history mingling with genuine empathy for the imagined villagers.
"That's awful." She said, her voice trembling. "So many families, losing their n like that.."
Abigaille, standing to the side, bit her lip, her confusion deepening. She knew Kafka was weaving a lie, a clever fabrication to deflect Olivia's suspicions, but she couldn't figure out his endga.
Kafka took another step forward, his eyes locked on Olivia's, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"That's where the culture of this place cos in, Mom. See, with so many n lost, the village had to adapt. They developed...unique customs to survive, to keep the community strong. Customs that are still around today, even if the village is a town now."
"...Customs that might seem strange to outsiders like us, but here? They're normal. Expected, even."
Olivia leaned in, her curiosity now a burning fla, her earlier shock about the breast incident forgotten as Kafka's tale of the village's history held her captive.
"What kind of customs, Kafi?...What sort of wierd customs are you talking about?"
She asked, her pure intrigue about the details pulling her deeper into his story...
Reviews
All reviews (0)