Fauna’s face paled, then flushed hot.
She swallowed hard, voice trembling as she tried to salvage sothing.
"But...Cecilia." She whispered. "What if the woman did react? What if...even with knowing it was her son...she responded exactly like those sisters in there?"
"Ejaculating, climaxing, losing herself completely. Over and over. Uncontrollably."
"What...what would that an?"
Cecilia fell silent for a long mont, studying Fauna’s face. Fauna waited, heart pounding, barely breathing.
Finally, Cecilia leaned in slightly, her voice low and careful.
"Then." She said, locking eyes with Fauna. "It would simply an that the mother in question is seeing her son as a man."
Fauna gasped softly, a sharp, involuntary sound.
Cecilia continued, unflinching.
"She no longer sees him only as her son. She sees him as a potential partner. Soone she’s attracted to. Soone she desires. Soone she wants to be with...intimately."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a near-whisper directly into Fauna’s ear.
"More basically...soone she wants to have a baby with. That’s where deep sexual attraction begins at its most primal level."
Fauna’s face exploded. She looked like a ripe tomato, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, utterly frozen.
Cecilia pulled back, observing the reaction with a mixture of sympathy and faint surprise.
"You might think it’s strange or monstrous." She went on gently. "But in the animal kingdom, incest isn’t rare. Inbreeding happens. And even among humans—though we condemn it strongly—there are docunted cases."
"Sotis a mother’s love for her son grows beyond maternal boundaries. It becos overwhelming, possessive."
"She stops wanting to see him as just her little boy. She wants him as a man. She wants him to be hers alone."
"That intense, all-consuming love can twist into desire. As shocking as it sounds...it’s possible. It happens."
Fauna felt an imnse weight settle on her shoulders, heavy and suffocating.
Every word Cecilia spoke confird the very thing she had been desperately trying to deny.
She did react.
She had lted under his touch.
She had gushed over and over, helpless, mindless with pleasure.
And she had known, deep down, even in the haze who he was.
Which could only an...
Her hands trembled at her sides. Her breath ca shallow and quick.
The thought alone—that she might see Mika not just as her son, but as a man she desired, a man she wanted to claim, even...to bear children with—made her entire body shake with a mixture of horror, sha, and sothing far too warm to na.
But still, even with Cecilia’s words ringing in her ears, Fauna couldn’t fully accept them.
People were different, cases varied; perhaps she wasn’t the kind of woman Cecilia was describing.
Maybe there was still a way to prove to herself that her feelings remained purely maternal.
So, trembling slightly, she decided to test it.
She closed her eyes for a long mont, letting the noisy observation room fade away.
In her mind, she pictured it: she and Mika standing side by side over a small wooden cradle.
Inside lay a tiny baby girl—their baby girl.
At first, the image that ca was Anya as an infant, all curly rainbow hair and bright, mischievous eyes.
But Fauna shook her head gently.
No—if it were truly Mika’s child, she would look different.
Dark hair like his, falling in soft waves.
The sa deep, thoughtful eyes that always seed to see right through her.
And that smile—the one that made Fauna’s heart ache with warmth every single ti it was aid at her.
The mont the full picture ford, sothing unexpected blood inside her chest: pure, radiant happiness.
Excitent. Joy so fierce it nearly took her breath away.
She already loved Mika more than anything—sotis, in quiet monts, she had wondered in guilty confusion whether her love for him eclipsed even what she felt for Anya.
And pregnancy...carrying a child...was the ultimate expression of love for the person you cherished most.
Giving birth to another little piece of Mika—bringing a new version of him into the world—felt, for one dizzying second, like the most natural, beautiful thing imaginable.
A soft, involuntary smile curved her lips.
But then reality slamd back in.
Her eyes snapped open. Horror flooded through her, cold and sharp.
’This was wrong. Utterly, unforgivably wrong.’
Just because she loved him deeply didn’t give her the right to imagine such things.
Society would destroy them. Their child would be persecuted, whispered about, pitied. It was taboo. Sinful. Impossible.
"No, Fauna, no." She whispered fiercely to herself, shaking her head as if to dislodge the thought. "Don’t think like that. Don’t think like that at all. Naughty Fauna. Naughty, bad girl!"
Cecilia, blinked in confusion.
"Lady Fauna? Are you all right? You look—"
But before she could finish, a chorus of excited gasps and whispers erupted from the group clustered at the glass.
"Cecilia! Co here quick—look at Mika! Look what your boyfriend is doing right now!"
Cecilia’s brow furrowed in puzzlent. Fauna, equally curious and apprehensive, followed as they both hurried over.
What they saw left them speechless.
The first four sisters lay peacefully asleep on their beds, faces relaxed, the curse completely gone.
Mika had now moved on to the final two—but instead of treating them one at a ti, he had positioned himself directly between their beds.
One gloved hand worked expertly on each sister simultaneously, fingers moving with the sa precise, vibrating intensity.
And it was working. Perfectly.
Both won writhed in unison, hips bucking, cries echoing as powerful jets sprayed from them again and again.
And because both of Mika’s hands were occupied, the sisters had taken to pleasuring themselves—hands roaming over their exposed breasts, pinching and kneading, even lifting them to their own mouths to lick and suck greedily.
All while Mika steadfastly kept his gaze upward, fixed on the ceiling, refusing to look at anything improper.
The won behind the glass could only stare in open-mouthed awe.
"In a world where most n struggle to satisfy even one woman properly." One doctor breathed. "He’s handling two at once—effortlessly—and without even looking."
"Exactly!" Another whispered. "He looks almost reluctant, like he’s only doing it because he has to. But he’s still this good. Can you imagine if he was actually into it? If he was passionate?"
A third giggled nervously. "If his fingers can do that...just think what his tongue could do."
The words sent a visible ripple through the group.
Several won flushed deeply, shifting in place.
Fauna felt it too—an imdiate, treacherous rush of heat between her thighs.
To her absolute horror, she felt unmistakable wetness seep into her underwear.
Panic surged through her; she pressed her thighs together, face burning.
Cecilia noticed the sudden tension and mistook it for offense. She whirled on her colleagues, eyes flashing.
"Stop it! All of you!" She hissed. "Stop talking about him like that! You’re objectifying him—and Lady Fauna is standing right here! How do you think she feels hearing you speak about her own son that way?"
The group froze, faces going scarlet.
"Oh no—Lady Fauna, we’re so sorry!"
"We completely forgot—I didn’t an it like that!"
"I’m sorry too, truly! Please forgive us!"
Fauna forced a weak smile, waving a hand.
"It’s...it’s all right. Really. Girls will be girls, won’t they?"
She laughed awkwardly, already calculating how quickly she could escape to a restroom to clean herself up.
But just then, a collective sigh of wonder rose from the glass.
Mika had finished.
Both final sisters collapsed back onto their pillows, utterly spent, faces glowing with deep satisfaction as they drifted into the most peaceful sleep.
Every trace of the aphrodisiac was gone.
The observing won stared enviously—so biting their lips, others shifting restlessly. Even Cecilia caught herself doing it, a faint flush on her cheeks.
Mika finally peeled off the soaked gloves, wiped a stray splash from his cheek, and stepped out of the treatnt room.
The mont he appeared, every pair of eyes turned to him—filled with open admiration, awe, sothing close to worship.
He shifted uncomfortably under the attention, clearly not feeling heroic in the slightest.
He cleared his throat before saying,
"Listen—nobody goes in there yet. Not without full protective suits. The aphrodisiac compound is still active in the air and on every surface. Even breathing it for too long could affect you. Sterilize everything thoroughly first."
The doctors nodded quickly, already calling nurses and organizing decontamination protocols—though their glances kept drifting back to Mika with lingering fascination.
Then Mika’s gaze found Cecilia.
He looked her over slowly—taking in her long, stocking-clad legs, the soft swell of her chest pressing against her sweater, the deep flush on her cheeks.
A dark, hungry glint flickered in his eyes.
He stepped close, leaned in, and whispered sothing into her ear.
Cecilia’s embarassnt exploded across her face.
She glanced quickly at Fauna, eyes wide, then back at Mika.
Sothing then shifted in her expression—shyness giving way to eager compliance. She took his hand, and he gently but firmly pulled her away down the corridor.
Fauna watched them go, confused. She turned to the nearest doctor.
"Where...Where are they going? He didn’t even say anything to ..."
The doctor coughed awkwardly, looking anywhere but at her.
"Well...I probably wasn’t supposed to hear, but...um...apparently your son is feeling a little, ah, pent-up after all that. Treating those won for so long had an effect on him too."
"So he’s taking Cecilia sowhere private to...vent his desires. If you know what I an."
Fauna’s hand flew to her mouth as understanding dawned.
"I...I see." She murmured faintly. "I suppose...that’s necessary."
Her gaze drifted back to the treatnt room—now an absolute disaster of glistening puddles and soaked sheets and her mind unwillingly supplied vivid images.
Cecilia, spread out beneath him, reacting even more intensely than the sisters had...especially if he used his tongue the way the doctors had speculated.
The thought made that treacherous warmth pulse between her legs again.
Face cycling rapidly between pale shock and burning red, Fauna excused herself quietly and made her way to the bathroom before going to the waiting area.
She sank into a chair among the surprised patients, who straightened respectfully at the sudden appearance of the adorable Battle Angel.
But she barely noticed their awe.
She sat rigid, hands clasped tightly in her lap, thoughts tumbling over one another in an endless, tornting loop—horror one mont, forbidden warmth the next.
Pale, then flushed, then pale again.
Like a woman fighting a fierce, private battle she wasn’t sure she could win.
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