As Ron lay amidst the roadside filth and the stench of decay, breathing his last, he felt no regret. He had once been a billionaire, a man before whom titans of industry bowed. But that same Ron had been reduced to fighting stray dogs for a scrap of stale bread. Betrayal. A singular, soul-crushing betrayal had turned him into a street beggar.
As his stomach cramped with hunger, he had scavenged a mysterious bottle of chemical liquid from the trash. Thinking it was water, he gulped it down. Instantly, his body ignited. It felt as if his internal organs were liquefying. As he writhed in the dust, the faces of those who had wronged him flashed before his eyes. Death was pulling him into a bottomless abyss.
But for Ron, death was not the end.
A sudden, blinding flash of light seared his vision. Ron realized he was lying down, but the surface wasn't the hard asphalt of Earth—it was smooth and cool. The sound of a woman sobbing reached his ears. His head felt heavy, as if he'd been dropped from a great height. In fact, that is exactly what had happened; the original owner of this body had just plummeted from a balcony.
As his consciousness fully returned, his first sight was incredible. He wasn't resting on a pillow, but was buried between two soft, warm mounds of flesh. Blinking, he realized he was staring directly into a pair of massive breasts—so large they practically obscured the woman's face. His nose was pressed into the cleavage, inhaling the intoxicating heat and scent of her body.
"Oh God! Jacky... my sweet boy... speak to me! Open your eyes!"
The woman's voice trembled. She held Ron—known in this world as Jacky—clutched tightly against her chest. With every sob, her massive bosom heaved against his face. Ron struggled for air, disoriented, but his new 18-year-old body responded instantly. The blood of a young man began to boil.
He shifted slightly, and the woman gasped.
"Jacky! You're alive! Oh heavens, I thought you'd left us!"
She pulled him back slightly, allowing Ron to see her face. She was goddess-like, her eyes hauntingly beautiful but filled with terror. Golden hair fell in disarray over her shoulders. She wore a thin silk gown that failed to contain her voluptuous curves—specifically her wide hips and heavy chest. The fabric seemed on the verge of tearing under the strain.
"Mom...?" Ron stammered. Memories flickered—this was his stepmother, Elina.
"Yes, Jacky, it's your Mama Elina. You fell from the roof, darling. You're bleeding,"
she cried, stroking his forehead.
Ron scanned his surroundings. He was on the balcony of a royal palace. Blood stained the floor, but the throbbing in his head was quickly eclipsed by the sensation in his groin. Elina's touch, the pressure of her breasts, and the rhythmic swaying of her body as she sobbed sent a jolt through his system. His new body felt like it was turning to stone.
Unaware of his internal turmoil, Elina frantically checked him for broken bones. When her hand slid over his thigh, Ron felt a surge of electricity.
"Jacky, does it hurt? Tell me," she urged, leaning closer. The deep neckline of her gown fell open, fully revealing the curve of her breasts.
Questions flooded Ron's mind.
Where was he?
Why was this stunner his stepmother?
Where was his father?
But curiosity was a distant second to the raw, primal magnetism of Elina's body. He realized this world was different—vivid, primitive, and hyper-sensual.
"Mama Elina... I'm okay. Just a bit dizzy," Ron managed, his voice thick with suppressed excitement.
Elina exhaled in relief, showering his face with kisses. "You are our life, Jacky. Your father is away on business; if something happened to you, how could we face anyone?"
'We?' Ron thought. Elina wasn't alone. There were four other mothers in this house. If Elina was this breathtaking, what did the others look like?
As Elina helped him up, their bodies pressed together. Her heavy hips brushed against his hand, and Ron felt like he was about to burst out of his pants. As he leaned on her, his arm was buried in the softness of her side. He noted that while her face held motherly concern, her body exuded a sheer, unintentional carnality.
He realized his new life was going to be far more rewarding than mere revenge. Surrounded by five MILF stepmothers, his story was taking a wild turn.
Inside the palace, the room was cavernous and regal. But Ron's attention was immediately snatched by another woman standing by the bed.
"Kate! Look at the disaster! Jacky fell from the roof!" Elina called out.
Kate appeared slightly younger than Elina, but her physique was even more aggressive. With cream-and-rose skin, she wore a tiny skirt and a sleeveless crop top that left her midriff and navel exposed. Her breasts were firmer and more uplifted than Elina's, the nipples prominent through the thin fabric.
"Oh, Jacky!" Kate cried, rushing over. She grabbed him from Elina's other side. Now, Ron was sandwiched—Elina's soft abundance on one side, Kate's firm curves on the other.
"He's bleeding so much! Elina, get warm water and cloth, quickly!"
As Elina hurried out, Ron was left alone with Kate. She helped him onto the bed, leaning over him so far that her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. Ron gripped the bedsheets, trying to hide his obvious arousal.
"Is it painful, sweetie?" Kate whispered, kissing his forehead with lips that felt like fire. "Your father isn't home... I couldn't forgive myself if you were hurt."
Ron stared at her, mesmerized. He recalled the "system" of this world: his father had married five women solely to ensure the bloodline. Despite being his stepmother, Kate's eyes held something far hungrier than maternal love. Her fingers lingered on his neck and earlobes.
"Mom... I'm fine. Don't worry," Ron said, his voice husky.
Kate gave a mysterious smile. "You're our everything, Jacky. The house feels dead without you." Her hand drifted to his belt. "Your pants look too tight; it might restrict your circulation. Let me loosen them?"
Before he could respond, Kate expertly undone his button and zipper. His erection, strained to its limit, was partially freed. Kate's eyes widened for a split second as she saw the sheer scale of his arousal through his undergarments. Her lips parted in a silent gasp.
"My... Jacky... you've certainly grown," she whispered, her voice dropping to a sultry vibration. She ran her palm lightly over the length of his hardness.
Ron let out a low groan. Kate's touch was electric. The pain in his head was gone, replaced by a singular, gnawing hunger. Kate looked into his eyes—the motherly mask had vanished, replaced by the predatory gaze of a woman in heat.
Elina returned with the water. Kate instantly withdrew her hand, partially pulling the zipper back up. While Elina cleaned his wound, pressing her chest against his shoulder, Kate sat at the foot of the bed, stroking his feet while her eyes remained locked on his crotch.
Ron remembered reading that in this world, men were a rare commodity. It was a world where women far outnumbered men—one man for every five women. These "mothers" weren't just guardians; they were starved women who saw the 18-year-old Jacky as the only outlet for their desires in their husband's absence.
As Elina leaned in to wipe his brow, her bosom hovered inches from his face. Ron lost control. He buried his face into the valley of her chest. Elina froze for a heartbeat, then let out a shaky breath, pressing his head deeper into her softness.
"Oh, Jacky... you're so restless today," Elina murmured seductively.
Kate smirked from the edge of the bed. "Why wouldn't he be? The boy is a man now. His blood is boiling."
Ron knew his life of poverty and betrayal was a ghost of the past. In this palace, amidst these two goddesses, he was the new king. He could feel the tension in the room reaching a breaking point. Tonight, the boundaries of "mother and son" would be shattered by the primal hunger of man and woman.
He reached out, firmly grasping the curve of Elina's waist. Instead of recoiling, she let out a needy whimper and began nuzzling his hair. The air in the room grew heavy with the scent of impending conquest.