Chapter 13

The first rays of dawn slipped through the curtains of Mrs. Mace’s bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the tangled limbs sprawled over the massive Alaskan King bed. I stirred, my consciousness pulling free from a deep, dreamless sleep, enveloped by the warmth of four bodies pressed against me. Mrs. Sarah Mace lay closest, her curly blonde hair fanned across my chest, her breath a gentle rhythm against my skin. Louise, her sister, curled against my other side, her fiery red hair a stark contrast against the pale sheets, her ample curves rising with each slow inhale. Gwyn, Sarah’s daughter, nestled into the crook of my arm, her light blonde waves brushing my shoulder, while Carmen, Louise’s daughter, draped across my legs, her youthful form radiating warmth even in repose.

The air was thick with the lingering scent of lavender, sweat, and the musky undertone of our shared intimacy—a heady reminder of the power I wielded in this sexless mirror universe. I lay still for a moment, savoring the press of their skin, the mana I had drawn from them pulsing within me like a living current. My dual cocks, a transformation born of my growing power, stirred faintly beneath the sheets, but I willed them to stillness, careful not to wake the sleeping women.

I found myself wondering how I’d rank my women by beauty. But only one face—my mother’s—rose clearly in my mind, her stunning features eclipsing the others. A sharp pang of guilt tugged at me as forbidden thoughts of Mom lingered. I didn’t understand my feelings for her—whether it was the incest taboo, her stunning beauty, or the twenty years I spent in my past life consumed by trying to bring her back to life. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t healthy to obsess over something that must not come to pass. I pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the day ahead.

With careful precision, I disentangled myself from the web of limbs. I eased Sarah’s arm off my chest, gently lifted Gwyn’s head onto a pillow, and slid Carmen’s legs aside. Louise stirred, her emerald eyes fluttering but not opening, and I froze until she settled back into sleep. Standing, my bare feet sinking into the plush rug, I took a moment to admire the scene: four beautiful women, their naked forms glowing in the dawn light, their trust in me absolute. It was a testament to my cunning, my ability to weave desire into this world’s naivety, and it filled me with a quiet, predatory pride.

I moved silently to where my clothes lay discarded. I pulled on my jeans and a plain black t-shirt, my movements deliberate to avoid creaking the old floorboards. My cocks, retracted to a single form through my mana control, settled comfortably beneath the denim. With a final glance at the bed, I slipped out the door, closing it with a soft click. The library was my destination—a quiet refuge where I could think and plan. I stepped into the cavernous room, its towering shelves lined with leather-bound tomes that spoke of this world’s sterile history. The air was heavy with the scent of old paper and polished wood. My eyes caught on a thick, dusty tome titled ‘Origins of the Gestation Machines.’ I pulled it down and settled at the table. The pages were brittle, the ink faded but legible. As I skimmed, I learned that the machines, the cornerstone of this world’s reproduction, were invented 2,000 years ago by a sorcerer named Archon Vaelis. The text described him as a figure of immense power, but noted that all magic had vanished around the time of his death. Magic was now considered a myth, dismissed as superstition despite the machines’ inexplicable function. Even after two millennia, no one understood how they worked, though there were whispers of a secret government department that manufactured them.

The discovery jolted me. Magic, like the mana I wielded, was once real. As I leaned back, the chair creaking under me, my mind raced—could my abilities be linked to this lost sorcery? The book offered no answers, but the questions it raised made my skin prickle with unease. This hint of ancient sorcery possibly having something to do with the gestation machines really complicated things. The path ahead was uncertain, but with every pulse of mana, I was reshaping this world in my image. I rose, stretching, and stepped to the library’s window, where the courtyard below lay serene. My reflection in the stained-glass panes—a boy of fourteen with eyes that carried lifetimes, a reminder of the power I wielded in this alternate universe—stared back, unyielding.

My plans—Gemma, Angela, Bethany, and Rebecca joining the mansion, the meeting with their parents on Saturday—suddenly felt like pieces of a larger puzzle I didn’t yet understand. Sarah, Louise, Gwyn, Carmen, Mrs. Baker, Mrs. Simmons, and soon these four, with many others to follow—they were my strength, their mana fueling my power in a world that had forgotten its magic.

I closed my eyes, reaching inward to the mana coiling within me, amplified by last night’s activities. Aetherios, the dragon of my dreams, had gifted me greater control, allowing me to sense my harem’s emotions from afar. I reached out telepathically. Sarah’s contentment washed over me, a warm glow of trust. Louise’s energy was fiercer, tinged with new desires, while Gwyn and Carmen radiated awe and yearning.

But then, a jolt—Mom’s presence hit me like a thunderclap, sharp and vivid, laced with a chaotic mix of arousal and confusion. My eyes snapped open, my heart pounding. She had overheard the noises from Sarah’s room last night, seen the silhouettes dancing on the curtains. The realization crashed over me: she was awake, listening, her innocent mind grappling with the raw sounds of sex—moans, gasps, the rhythmic creak of the bed. Her arousal, intense and unfamiliar, surged through our telepathic link, a tidal wave of heat that made my breath catch. My cocks flared in response, accompanied by a sickening wave of guilt. She was my mother, the woman I had saved, and yet her awakening desire mirrored the very feelings I fought to suppress.

I went back to my seat, gripping the edge of the table, knuckles whitening, trying to steady myself. Mom’s curiosity about my “spiritual healing” was no longer abstract; her questions would sharpen, and I would need to navigate them with care.

A faint creak from the hallway snapped me out of my thoughts. Sophia and Rae Simmons, the identical twin daughters of Mrs. Simmons, padded into the library in their pajamas. At fourteen, their raven hair was mussed from sleep, and their bright, mischievous smiles lit up the room.

“Steve!” Sophia chirped, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you up this early.” “Yeah, I thought you’d be a heavy sleeper,” Rae added with a playful grin. “Mind if we sit with you?”

I relaxed, flashing them a smile. “Course not. Pull up a chair.”

They beamed, their synchronized movements almost eerie as they dragged chairs to either side of me. “So, what’re you doing in here?” Sophia asked, glancing at the open tome. “Reading about those machines? Kinda heavy for a Wednesday morning.”

I chuckled, closing the book. “Just curious. You two up early for a reason?”

Rae shrugged. “Heard some noises last night. Kept us up a bit.”

My heart skipped, but I kept my face neutral. They must have heard the same sounds Mom did. “Noises, huh? This old place creaks a lot. Probably just the wind.”

Sophia giggled. “Sure, Steve. Anyways, this spiritual healing stuff Mom keeps talking about—what’s that all about, anyway?”

The question was a spark, and I seized it as an opportunity. I leaned back, my tone casual but laced with the seductive charm I had honed. “Spiritual healing is ... special. It’s about connecting with someone’s energy, helping them feel alive in a way they never have before. You two ever feel like there’s something missing, something this world doesn’t talk about?” Rae’s brows furrowed. “Missing? Like what? The only thing I know is that we’ve never seen Mom happier than after you started the spiritual healing with her.”

“Exactly,” I said, lowering my voice with a hint of promise. “I can show you something warmer, something that’ll make you feel ... whole. You trust me, right?”

They nodded. The vision formed in my mind: a group session tonight with their mother, guiding them into the fold under her watchful gaze. The thought sent a thrill through me.

“It’s hard to explain with words,” I purred. “It’s better to feel it. Want me to show you a little piece of it? Just a taste?”

Rae’s eyes widened, but she nodded. “Okay. Just a taste. What do we do?”

“Close your eyes,” I murmured, “and let me guide you.”

They obeyed, their trust absolute. I leaned toward Sophia first, my heart pounding as I cupped her cheek and pressed my lips to hers in her first-ever kiss. It was gentle, deliberate, my lips moving slowly against hers. She gasped softly into my mouth, a tiny sound of shock and delight, her body leaning closer instinctively. I trailed my lips along her jaw to her earlobe, feeling her shiver as my breath warmed her skin. My hand slid to her waist, then up to her belly, the warmth of her skin seeping through the thin fabric. I kissed her neck, and she whimpered, the spark of her awakening desire feeding into me, sweet and potent.

I pulled back, and her eyes snapped open, wide and shimmering. “Steve...” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Before I could answer, I turned to Rae, her eyes still closed. I cupped her face and kissed her, firm but tender. She stiffened for a moment, then melted into it, a soft whimper escaping as she pressed closer. I moved to her neck, then trailed my lips to her delicate collarbone, feeling her pulse quicken. My hand glided to her waist and up to her belly, the heat of her skin electric. Her mana surged, mingling with mine in a rush that made my head spin.

I pulled back as her eyes fluttered open, mirroring Sophia’s shock but glowing with enjoyment. “That,” I said, my voice low, “is part of spiritual healing. It’s a connection, a way to share energy, to feel something deeper than this world allows.”

Sophia touched her lips, her fingers trembling. “That was ... wow. I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Rae nodded eagerly. “Yeah, it’s ... warm. Like I’m alive in a new way. Is that what you do with Mom? And the others?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but it’s different for everyone. You liked it, didn’t you?”

They both nodded, their faces flushed. Sophia leaned closer. “Can we ... do it again?”

I felt no hesitation—the twins were ripe for my influence, their trust a canvas for my desires. The predator in me surged, but I tempered it with my plan for tonight: Mrs. Simmons needed to be there, her presence a bridge to deepen Sophia and Rae’s connection to me, making their initiation a shared family rite. “Sure, but let’s take it slow,” I teased. “This is new for you, and it’s powerful. Close your eyes again.” They complied, and I kissed Sophia deeper, my tongue brushing her lips lightly. She gasped, opening her mouth, and I guided her as our tongues danced. Her mana flowed stronger now, a vibrant stream that fueled my own power. I turned to Rae and kissed her with the same intensity, her response eager, her tongue tentatively meeting mine. Their combined energy was a heady rush, and I had to force down the reaction stirring beneath my jeans.