024#
June 22, 2016. Atlantic City, United States.
"Mr. Andrew, it's time for breakfast! Get up, you have class!"
The sharp, commanding voice cut through the haze of sleep like a whip.
"Mmm..."
Andy groaned softly, rolling out of bed with heavy limbs, still half-lost in dreams. Barefoot and wearing only loose boxers that barely concealed his raging morning hard-on, he paused briefly at the mirror—taking in his rather chubby build, the soft belly spilling slightly over the waistband, and his long, messy brown hair that he'd let grow out past his shoulders simply because he didn't care—then shuffled down the hallway toward the kitchen, the scent of bacon and fresh pancakes already teasing his nose.
He sat down in his chair in the dining room. Almost instantly, a voluptuous figure appeared beside him, her wide hips swaying with practiced grace as she set down a steaming plate piled high with fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon strips, and a stack of golden pancakes dripping with syrup. A tall glass of fresh orange juice followed right after.
"Thank you, Sabrina," Andy mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he looked up at the woman towering over him.
Sabrina, the 47-year-old Italian maid who had practically raised him, smiled down with warm but knowing black eyes. A small beauty mark sat on her chin, drawing attention to her full lips. Her thick chestnut hair was pulled back into a neat bun, a few loose strands framing her mature, attractive face. Her curvaceous body was wrapped in the usual tight black uniform that hugged every generous curve: massive, heavy breasts straining against the white apron, wide hips and a plump, juicy ass that jiggled softly with each small movement as she leaned over to adjust his napkin. The top buttons of her blouse were perpetually undone, offering a generous view of deep cleavage and the lacy edge of her bra whenever she bent forward, which she did now, deliberately lingering.
Sabrina's full lips curved into a knowing smile as she leaned over the table again, her massive breasts swaying heavily under the tight uniform, nearly brushing Andy's arm as she refilled his orange juice.
"My pleasure, tesoro," she purred, voice low and husky with that thick Italian accent. "You need to build up your energy… in a few days comes the big exam that will decide your future."
"If I study hard and stay consistent, I think it'll be easy," he said, swallowing a bite of pancake. "I'd like to start my own compa—"
Before he could finish the word, footsteps echoed of someone coming down the stairs to go down to the kitchen.
It was none other than Amber Collins, Andy's mother, whose long brown hair fell in perfect waves over the silk purple robe that clung to every lethal curve. The fabric was tied loosely, barely containing her enormous, firm breasts; with each step down the stairs they bounced and strained against the thin material, deep cleavage spilling forward, nipples faintly outlined beneath the silk. Her face was strikingly similar to Andy's—delicate yet sharp features, the same high cheekbones and full lips that made their resemblance undeniable, almost unsettling. Her green eyes—exact mirrors of Andy's—scanned the room coolly, lips painted a bold red even at this early hour.
She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Sabrina straightened instantly, posture submissive as she placed a fresh plate in front of Amber without being asked—whole-grain toast, plain natural yogurt with a drizzle of honey, and a cup of hot matcha tea.
Amber sat down beside Andy with complete indifference toward him, her silk purple robe shifting as she settled into the chair right next to his. The fabric parted freely as she crossed her long, toned legs—no panties underneath, nothing to hide the smooth, bare skin of her inner thighs or the glimpse of her shaven pussy lips as the robe fell open just enough to tease. Her enormous breasts, unbound by any bra, swayed heavily with the movement, nipples already stiff and pressing boldly against the thin silk, threatening to slip free entirely.
She picked up her phone with perfectly manicured fingers and began scrolling, the soft click-click of her nails on the screen the only sound breaking the heavy silence. She didn't spare Andy a single glance, as if he were invisible—or worse, merely part of the furniture. Andy, seeing his mother's lack of response, decided it was best to stay quiet and concentrate on his meal.
"You're not going to say good morning to the mother who bore you, Andrew?" Amber said without lifting her eyes from her phone, taking a slow, deliberate bite of toast.
"Good morning, Mother," Andy muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on his plate as he mechanically forked another bite of pancake drizzled with syrup and crispy bacon. The words came out flat, cold.
Andy looked up and met his mother's serious gaze.
"How cold that sounded," Amber said, voice laced with mock disappointment. "You can be sweet to our maid, but not to the woman who raised you—who taught you values."
Andy was quite annoyed to hear the word "values" come out of his mother's mouth.
"What values?" Andy snapped, annoyance boiling over. "The ones where you don't even have to work because three ex-husbands still pay for everything?"
Amber's perfectly arched brow lifted. A slow, amused smile spread across her red lips.
"What's the point of working when I already have all three of them slaving away for me?" she replied coolly, leaning back in her chair.
"And you're proud of that?" Andy's voice cracked with disbelief and frustration.
"What do you mean?" asked Amber, showing surprise at her son's harsh words.
"A mother who teaches her son to use people for personal gain isn't a mother—she's a bitch!" Andy spat, unable to contain his anger.
The words hung in the air for a split second.
Then Amber exploded from her chair.
¡Slap!
Her open palm cracked across Andy's cheek with a sharp, resounding sting that echoed through the kitchen. His head snapped to the side, cheek instantly burning red.
He didn't flinch much—he was used to it—but his hand rose slowly to touch the heat blooming on his skin.
"How dare you insult me, you ungrateful little shit!" Amber hissed, eyes blazing, hand still raised as if ready to strike again.
In one fluid, furious motion, she yanked the purple robe from her shoulders and let it pool on the floor. Completely naked now, she stood tall and unashamed in the morning light—forty years old but looking barely thirty thanks to the expert facial work paid for by her third husband. Her body was pure fantasy: massive, perfectly firm breasts—implants courtesy of her second husband—jutting proudly with hard pink nipples, narrow waist flaring into wide hips and an enormous, sculpted ass that jiggled faintly with her heavy breathing, leading down to a perfectly shaved pussy that glistened as if she enjoyed her own rage.
"This," she snarled, grabbing Andy's hair roughly and yanking his head forward until his face was inches from her smooth pussy, "is what you live off. This is what makes men fight to serve me."
Andy froze, breath catching, a storm of shame, anger, and unwanted heat surging through him.
Amber held him there for a long second, fingers tight in his hair, then released him with a shove.
"Using people like objects is the best feeling in the world, my son," she said, voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Only the strong survive. You'll learn that—even if you have to do wrong things to get ahead."
She stepped closer again, naked and towering, cupping his stinging cheek almost tenderly.
"My baby," she murmured, thumb brushing the red mark she'd left, "I know you're upset, but you were disrespectful."
Her green eyes locked onto his, forcing him to meet her gaze.
"Remember—because of you being born, I've had an eighteen-year million-dollar pension, this mansion, half your father's properties… and I never even had to see him again." A genuine, crooked smile tugged at her lips. "Sometimes it looks like I don't appreciate you, but I do. You're the greatest jackpot I ever hit. Thank you for existing."
She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the cheek she'd just slapped, lips lingering a moment too long.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Amber bent down, scooped the discarded robe from the floor, and draped it loosely over her shoulders—still leaving most of her naked body on display. With a final, dismissive flick of her hair, she turned and strode out of the kitchen, hips swaying, bare ass cheeks flexing with each step.
Andy sat frozen, staring after her retreating figure, cheek throbbing, mind reeling.
A warm hand settled gently on his shoulder.
Sabrina.
She had stayed silent the entire time, knowing one wrong word could cost her job, but now her touch was soft, comforting.
"I know she's terrible, tesoro," she whispered, leaning close enough that her heavy breasts brushed his arm. "Not all women are like her. Please… pass your next exam. Make a better life for yourself."
Andy turned to meet Sabrina's kind, worried eyes. In that shared look there was understanding, quiet support—and the only shred of warmth he'd felt all morning.
He nodded slowly, throat tight.
As Amber's footsteps faded toward the living room, Sabrina's gentle presence was the only thing keeping the storm inside him from breaking completely.
___________
It was getting late. Andy left the house, got in the car, and headed for Harmonian College of New Jersey, where he was studying business administration. It didn't take him more than 20 minutes to get there. As he parked the car, he grabbed his backpack and headed straight for the entrance. As he passed through the grassy field surrounding the place, he noticed someone waiting for him on the steps leading up to the door: it was his best friend, Jake Park.
"Well, well, isn't that my buddy Andrewneitor?" said Jake in a cheerful tone when he saw him.
"What a stupid nickname; why can't you come up with something better?" said Andy glad to see him.
"Mmm... how about 'Monkey D. Collins'?"
"Very long, but I like it," replied Andy with a smile as the two friends shared a moment of camaraderie before heading off to college.
Andy and Jake met when they were seniors in high school. Despite being in different classes (Andy was in Class A and Jake was in Class B), they had never spoken to each other. It was during their senior year that, at the same time, while they were in the library, they received their admissions to Harmonian College. The shout of joy they both gave at the same time made them meet.
From that day on they got to spoke each other and shared their tastes in economics, anime, and, somewhat peculiarly, their preference that boobs are better than asses. Their friendship grew quickly as they discovered more common interests and now, as college classmates, they shared not only the academic load but also the laughs and fun times life had to offer.
Andy considers Jake a refuge, someone who helped him forget his mother's abusive words and actions, even though Jake was unaware of that situation. To Andy, Jake was not only a laughing and trusting companion but also a pillar of his life. Despite not knowing the true magnitude of the challenges Andy faced at home, Jake had become the best friend to confide in and provided a welcome respite in adversity.
They passed through the halls of the university, heading toward the classroom. They sat together at the last table in the back as they shared a lively conversation. After a few minutes, the economics professor walked in, set his books on the table, and said hello.
"Good morning everyone. As you all know, Friday is the final exam that will determine your future in the world of economics. We have one very important topic left to cover, 'Creating a fictitious company'. I want you to work in pairs. Design a fictitious company. Explain to me what the function of the company is, how you would create it with a budget of $1,000, and how you would grow it to $10 million," the teacher announced, setting a challenge that got the students' attention.
Andy and Jake exchanged glances, aware that this project could be crucial to their final grade and, potentially, to their future in the business world.
Andy and Jake had the idea of working together until the teacher, with a smile, said, "To make it a little more fun, I'll choose the partners." Their expressions of joy turned to disappointment. They weren't exactly antisocial, but they didn't like working with people they didn't trust to do a good job. The professor began to cull until he came to Jake's name. He paired him with Franklin, someone known for his excellent grades. "Andrew Collins and Paula Anderson, back row," the professor announced.
As Jake moved to sit beside Franklin, Andy felt a shift next to him. Someone had taken the newly vacated seat. He turned slightly and noticed a woman with long brown curly hair tied in a high ponytail, held in place by a delicate flower accessory, and warm brown eyes sitting beside him.
Intrigued by her scent, he glanced to his left, taking in her attractive figure. Her skin was lightly tanned, glowing softly under the light, and her diamond-shaped face gave her an elegant, striking look. Small golden bear-shaped earrings dangled from her ears, catching the light with every subtle movement, while a simple cross necklace rested against her chest. She wore a fitted black top and denim shorts, completely absorbed in her phone.
To break the ice with the brown-haired girl, Andy turned to her and greeted her with a friendly "Hi." At first, the girl looked at him blankly, but then, in a relaxed tone, asked, "What's your name?"
Andy, a little nervous but determined to make a good impression, replied, "I'm Andrew Collins." However, the girl changed to a playful tone and said, "Andrew, huh? How boring, can I call you Andy?" she asked with a charming smile.
Andy, slightly puzzled, nodded shyly and replied, "Y-yes, of course." From that first meeting with the girl, Andy's life changed completely.
______________
¡Slap!
Andy awoke to a sharp slap across his face, the sting jolting him from a deep, exhausted sleep. He was still in the same lavish room where Fiona and the noble girls had used him mercilessly, his body aching from the relentless assault.
Blinking groggily, he saw the maid Theresa standing over him, her hand still raised from the blow. Beside her stood Robin, arms crossed, watching with cool amusement as Andy stirred on the bed. His naked body was marked with smears of red lipstick streaking across his chest, thighs, and even his softening cock.
Robin tossed Andy's rumpled clothes—stripped from him earlier by Sebastian—onto the bed with a casual flick.
"Get dressed," she said flatly. "It's time to go back to the brothel."
Andy rose slowly, every muscle protesting, head throbbing with shame and exhaustion. He pulled on his shirt and trousers in silence, the fabric sticking slightly to the dried traces of sweat and fluids on his skin.
Robin watched him without a word, while Theresa's gaze lingered a moment longer on the lipstick marks, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
He followed them obediently out of the room, down the castle corridors toward the exit, his bare feet cold against the stone floor.
Andy sat silently in the carriage driven by Theresa, with Robin beside him. He stared out at the fading light of dawn as memories of his past life flooded back—ones he desperately wanted to forget forever, but at the same time I didn't want to forget.