#65
My sister’s face drained of color, then darkened, and a heavy, threatening aura settled around her.
To be honest, I was starting to fear her reaction.
Part of me braced for her to lunge, to pin me down and force compliance, or worse—lock me away where no one else could touch me. In this world, I was helpless against them. No amount of training or muscle could match the raw strength these women possessed.
I fought to hide my unease, my chest tightening, pulse thundering in my ears. But I lifted my chin and stared her down, refusing to show even a flicker of vulnerability.
“But, sis,” I said, forcing my voice to steady, “I can love whoever I want. And I can fuck whoever I want.”
Her eyes slit dangerously. “You dare.”
“I will—and you know it,” I interrupted, fists balled at my sides.
“I’m free, Sarah. I call my own shots. And until you accept that… maybe we need some distance.”
“Alvin.”
She growled my name through gritted teeth, each word scraping like gravel.
The fury in her tone was raw, undeniable. I almost stepped back from how she called my name, and got so scared watching her descend a step on the stairs.
Closer.
My stomach twisted into knots, plummeting like a stone in my gut.
Damn it, I cursed inwardly, biting back the regret flooding my veins.
Why the hell did I blurt it out now? Why here, trapped on these narrow stairs with nowhere to bolt?
If I’d held my tongue until we hit the bottom, I could’ve dashed into the kitchen, out the door, anywhere but this precarious perch.
One slip, one shove, and I’d be tumbling ass-over-end, cracking bones on the hardwood below.
Fear slithered up my spine, icy fingers gripping tight, urging me to flee.
But I didn’t budge.
Not an inch.
I planted my feet, rooted like an oak against a gale, and locked my eyes on hers as she descended.
If this turns into a fist fight, I doubt I can win. She’s stronger than me physically. However, even I have some experience, and of course, techniques, so I would probably, maybe, not be beaten one sidedly. Still, my courage is a plus point, right?
Tap!
Tap!
Each step echoed deliberately, slow and measured, her boots thudding softly on the risers.
Every fiber in me screamed to retreat, to widen the gap between us, or make a stance and prepare to swing my fist—but I shoved that instinct down deep, channeling it into steel resolve.
Don’t flinch.
Don’t back down.
She halted just one step above, so near I could feel the heat rolling off her body, smell the faint trace of her shampoo mixed with the lingering scent of our earlier tussle.
Her shadow loomed over me, darkening my face, but I didn’t blink.
Up close, I caught the rigid set of her jaw, the subtle twitch in her fingers as they flexed at her sides—like she was wrestling a beast inside, barely leashed.
“…Are you challenging me?” she growled, her voice low and edged with something feral.
I glared at her.
“No,” I said evenly, holding her stare with unyielding calm.
“But… are you challenging me?”
I said.
I heard her teeth grind together audibly, a sharp clench that made her cheeks hollow.
A wild gleam ignited in her eyes, like a predator sizing up prey.
To be honest, she looked very scary.
I was not the type to get easily scared. But right now, I could not afford to remain indifferent. She looked very intimidating. Besides, I know that she can easily manhandle me with ease.
Still, I choked my discomfort away and stood my ground. I was shorter, but damn, even Wolverines don’t back down. How can I?
Backing off now would unravel everything—the boundaries I’d just carved out. It would hand her the reins again, and I wasn’t about to surrender that ground. I am me. I have no leash. I’m the one who takes the reins.
Suddenly, as the tense atmosphere around us worsened, rumbling noises echoed from upstairs.
As if that was a cue, I turned around and started walking away.
Now’s my time to escape.
But not out of fear. It’s what they call a tactical retreat! Okay?
“Alvin…”
“We’re done here, sis,” I said. “… Whether you like it or not, that’s going to happen. It’s up to you, should you accept it or not. But nothing will change. I have my freedom, and there’s no way I would let you dictate and control me. I’m not your goddamn puppet.”
“You! Are you insane?! Are you trying to become a whore?!”
“What a weird thing to say,”
I shot back.
“Al!”
“Do you think I don’t know how this works? After turning 18, I’m expected to have children. Preferably, with different women. At least two a year, that’s the quota they push on us.” I read that’s an obligation, though; one can avoid that just by donating sperm.
“… It’s not some dirty secret—it’s how this society works. And I know all about it.”
“That’s… that’s something you can postpone to do after graduating. And that doesn’t mean you have to go and fucking sell yourself! You can donate your sperm for that! Keep it clinical, safe—no one gets involved with anyone!”
“Donate… yeah, I can do that. But I prefer the natural way, sis. And I believe you know whether I’m telling the truth or not.”
“What?!”
“… I’m expected to do my part…as a man. As a living donor. One way or another, I need to sleep with a lot of women. Perhaps other men avoid that result by only relying on the Donation system…But I refused turning into just a breeding horse with women I don’t know. To have children all over the world, not knowing where and who they are…!”
I mean, donating sounds good.
But I don’t know how that’s done yet. It’s probably the traditional method, right?
So, what’s the fun in beating your meat yourself?
“… …”
“So, if I’m forced to do it, then I want it on my terms. I want to do it; in a way, I can hold control over my situation. My life! Well, that’s something I should be thinking about and considering to do next year, when I reach that age. But it’s not bad to think it over now, right?”
My sister was flabbergasted.
I’m probably the only man who says something like this.
Not even in porn movies would a man be declared a whore for the good of the world. I mean, hey, I don’t mind saving the world if it’s like that. But the men in this world are not that self-sacrificing. Really. They don’t know what they got.
So, yes, I don’t want to compromise.
Besides, I’m already involved with quite a lot of women: Ally, Aunt Morgana. Aunt Melissa. Layla. And even Donna. And probably more in the future. And it’s not something I’m forced to do either.
In fact, that’s already enough.
I’ve done my research when the issue about Sperm Ranking came up in my stay at Rodrigo’s house. The more I read, the more I dislike the idea.
I mean, why would I choose to send my sperm every month to be used by women in the world, not knowing who they are?
What if it succeeded? How would I know who my child is? With the confidential clause, that would be impossible. And that’s not something easy to change, even if I state I want to know who and where my child is.
I might not be the most responsible father, nor would I become one if I have a child, but at least I want to know their existence. I want to know who they are. And I fucking want to be a part of their lives, even with the least, minimum, involvement.
That’s my policy.
Perhaps, there would be a time that I need to donate my sperm – there’s this exception of force donation, even if I don’t want to, but I’ll make sure to negotiate whose womb I’ll be bombing with my semen if that really happens.
That is why I’m against the usual Sperm Donation, which is apparently what men in this world prefer.
Seriously, something is wrong with the men in this world.
If I want to avoid needing to donate my sperm, I just need to show that I’m having sex with at least 3 different women in one month. Making one or two pregnant would be preferable in a year, but even that would be hard to do with how hard for women to conceive in this world.
Well, at least that’s what the internet says.
If I can make two women pregnant every year, I would not need to donate my sperm either.
And as a Man. I seek that kind of life.
A harem?
That sounds even better. And I know that if my sister learned of my affairs, she’ll go ballistic on me. I don’t want that to happen. Nor would I want to compromise my relationships for her happiness.
That’s why I want her to understand it now before her obsession with me worsens.
Sarah looks at me in surprise.
Well, I guess that’s expected.
I mean, she really thought, or maybe believed, that I loved her, and only her, because I gave myself to her. It’s not wrong. I love her. But, possession? Hard pass.
“Alvin! You-!!”
In anger. In frustration. It seems like she wanted to say something, but again, more noises rang out from upstairs, showing that Mom is gonna come down any minute now.
I look at my sister one more time and sigh, “Think about it, Sis. I don’t want to force you or anything. But that will become my life from now on. And I believe I told you before. I love sex… and I’m not just saying that to please you.”
After speaking, I turned around and started walking toward the kitchen, not waiting for her reply.
“… Just give it a thought.”
Sarah seems to have been stunned by my revelation. Well, I guess who wouldn’t? Hearing your beloved sibling speak like that, it must have been a real shock.
But, sorry sis.
I was given a second life. A paradise. And I’m not stupid enough to waste that.
…
We stepped into the kitchen, and the savory aroma of sizzling bacon and rich, steaming coffee enveloped us like a comforting embrace.
It cut through the lingering tension, grounding me in the familiar warmth of home.
Sarah had set the table with plates of fluffy scrambled eggs, golden toast slathered in melting butter, and crispy strips of bacon that glistened with just the right amount of grease.
Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a golden hue over everything—the wooden table, the steam rising from the mugs, even the faint sheen on the countertops from where she’d wiped them down.
After serving the meal, she and I settled into our chairs—she’s now sitting opposite me, the wooden seats creaking softly under us as we waited.
She didn’t say anything.
Either she was still thinking about my words, or she was angry at me. I kept my silence too, giving her space which I believed she needed.
Then Mom finally appeared, stepping into the kitchen with a sway that drew my eyes immediately.
Damn.
Mom’s really hot!
Her long, glossy black hair cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall, framing her sexy and charming face—those captivating eyes sparkling with mischief and warmth, pulling me in like a magnet.
Her red lips were as clear and bright as jewels, so alluring that it was breathtaking, curving into a soft smile as she caught me staring. I hope she was not weirded out. I thought. Although she didn’t seem to care that I was staring, though.
My gaze dipped lower, tracing her delicate collarbone, exposed just enough to make my pulse quicken, stirring an urge to wrap my arms around her from behind and press my lips there, feeling her skin heat under my touch.
But the real highlight was her semi-transparent tank top that clung to her skin like a second layer, the fabric thin and teasing, underneath which her black lace bra peeked through with intricate trim that hugged her curves perfectly.
It accentuated her full and shapely figure, especially her chest—those plump breasts rising and falling with each breath, the lace outlining their soft fullness in a way that made my cock twitch in my pants.
I even had an urge to touch them again, to caress her plump breasts and suck on them while kneading them, burying my face in that warmth I’d felt upstairs.
But, everything has its own time.
And seducing Mom right now is not a good idea. After all, we just made up just now. She might still have some reservations about being with me, her son.
I know she loves me, and she would probably do everything for me.
But sometimes, that love and care is far too much.
She’ll probably hesitate, saying she would not want to hurt me or take advantage of me.
Mom grabbed a glass of water, swaying her hips as she walked. Then she returned to the table and chose to sit beside me, her hip nestling close to mine as she slid into the chair, the scent of her floral shampoo mixing with the breakfast aromas.
Sarah shot me a quick glance but said nothing, her earlier annoyance simmering quietly.
Sis, please don’t do anything rash.
Please.
