- Reunion
“I’m back.”
Hyeonjun greeted the empty house out of habit as he pushed open the front door. Just as he was about to let out a hollow laugh at his own reflex—what had he even expected?—he noticed something unfamiliar. A pair of large men’s dress shoes sat neatly by the entrance, polished to a mirror shine. He stared at them for a moment before shutting the door behind him and stepping inside.
The house was dark. The moment the door clicked shut, the faint light seeping in from outside vanished like a song cut mid-note. Someone was sitting on the living room sofa.
“So you’re Hyeonjun.”
“Who are you?”
Hyeonjun didn’t move from the entryway, his voice flat. A man he’d never seen before—dressed in a sharp suit, legs crossed—sat there, watching him. Even seated, he gave off the impression of being tall. The faint, sickly-sweet scent of cigarette smoke clung to him, mixed with cologne. Hyeonjun wrinkled his nose. He hated that smell—cologne tainted with tobacco.
“I’m going to be your new dad.”
Ah. So that’s who this is.
Hyeonjun didn’t bother asking why the man was sitting in the dark, TV off, no lights on. He kicked off his shoes and headed straight for his room.
“Nice to meet you.”
That was the last thing he said before slamming his door shut. He tossed his bag into a corner and flopped onto the bed. The man’s face—slick, smug, annoying—lingered in his mind. Not that it mattered. He’d be out of this house as soon as he got a job. A home was just a place to sleep, nothing more.
He lay back, scrolling mindlessly through SNS on his phone, thumb flicking downward. He didn’t want to think about the man outside his door. Unfortunately, there was nothing new to refresh. After a few failed attempts, he sighed and turned off the screen.
“Fucking hell.”
His mother was a woman of insatiable ambition. Always charging forward, never allowing herself to fall behind. Her life was a blur of overseas business trips and all-nighters. She was the kind of alpha leader who thrived in this era—but she’d never been a good mother. Always absent, always gone. And his father hadn’t been able to handle it. He, too, had been chronically late, buried in overtime, a ghost in his own home. Not much of a father either.
Hyeonjun was used to coming home to an empty house. Shouting “I’m back!” into the void had become second nature. He’d spent his elementary, middle, and high school years alone. Then he’d gone to college—some unremarkable university that had clearly disappointed his mother. As if she’d ever cared enough to help him in the first place. He’d chosen a major with shaky job prospects, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get out of this house, as fast as possible.
He could still picture his father’s face at the end of his senior year of high school: “We’ve raised you. Our job’s done. Let’s get a divorce.” And just like that, before the new year, his parents had stamped the papers.
Hyeonjun hadn’t mourned his father’s absence. He’d stayed with his mother purely because she made more money—and because she was too busy to interfere. That was all.
Then, not long after, she’d announced she was remarrying. “Go ahead,” he’d said, though he didn’t understand why. What was the point of building a family? She’d never cared for the comforts of one before. Maybe it was for tax benefits? Or maybe the new guy was filthy rich. Or perhaps she’d just met someone at work, someone who’d made the divorce papers easy to sign. Either way, she hadn’t bothered to tell him who the man was. Hyeonjun had only vaguely imagined someone tall, wealthy, impeccably groomed—a man who could satisfy his mother’s appetites without a single flaw.
But now that man was here, materialized outside his door, and it made his skin crawl. The mere presence of another person in this space he’d always had to himself was suffocating. He hadn’t even exchanged more than a few words with him, and already he disliked him. And that smell—the cloying mix of cigarette smoke and cologne—lingered, even with the door shut. It made his head throb.
Hyeonjun stopped thinking and closed his eyes.
***
“Mmm… nnh, mph—”
“Deeper. You need to take it deeper in your throat.”
Hyeontae pressed down on the back of his head, shoving his cock all the way into the warm, untrained mouth. The boy clearly had no experience with this. His skin was pale, like his father’s, his hair a soft dark brown. At his age, he should’ve been out having fun, not coming home this early. Hyeontae hadn’t expected him back so soon—but fortunately, he’d already set everything up. Now, the boy who would soon be his stepson was kneeling between his legs, eagerly sucking him off.
“Good. Swallow every last drop I give you. Understood?”
He thrust deep, sealing the boy’s lips around his cock before unloading down his throat. Hyeonjun gagged, his body trembling—Hyeontae could feel it through his fingertips, the tip of his cock. The boy was completely naked, his pale nipples and neatly trimmed pubic hair on full display as he struggled to swallow. His eyes watered, his throat working, coughing up the excess cum and licking it from his hand. Easy to handle. Hyeontae smirked. This was going smoothly.
Twenty years ago, VR had been all the rage—virtual reality touted as the future of adult entertainment, praised for its “realism.” Hyeontae had never bought into it. No matter how lifelike, virtual was still virtual. So he’d spent his reckless college years obsessing over how to make sexual fantasies real. And now, after founding his own company—officially a cutting-edge materials firm, unofficially a front—he’d finally done it. The adult toy subsidiary was just the beginning. He’d combined proprietary materials and engineering to bring to life things people had only ever imagined.
And now, he was testing one of those products on his soon-to-be stepson. A special “hypnotic fragrance”—essentially a pheromone-based aphrodisiac—had been dispersed throughout the house. Of course, it wasn’t some magic potion that would instantly turn someone into a sex-crazed zombie like in cheap novels. But if you understood human psychology, you could guide them there, step by step. And Hyeontae had done just that, starting with a stranger—the boy who’d seemed wary of him at first. The results were astonishingly successful.
The deed was already done. No taking it back now. Might as well break him in thoroughly.
He pulled his cock out of Hyeonjun’s mouth, slick with saliva. The dark, thick shaft bore the marks of a well-used toy. Hyeonjun, dazed, kept licking him like an obedient pet. His legs must’ve been numb from kneeling so long, but he didn’t seem to care. Right now, the only thing occupying his mind was licking this man’s cock as well as he could.
“Good boy… you’re doing so well.”
Hyeontae stroked his hair, pondering what suggestion to plant next. The cigarette-tinged fragrance filling the room was the hypnotic scent. Hyeonjun had fallen asleep breathing it in, which was why he was so disoriented now—far more so than before he’d gone to bed. When he’d woken up thirsty and stumbled out for water, Hyeontae had been waiting. A few well-placed words—sympathizing with his neglected upbringing, subtly breaking him down—and just like that, he’d ended up on his knees, sucking cock.
“So, Hyeonjun. Is there anything you want? Daddy can buy it for you.”
Hyeontae could afford to spoil him a little. Naked, cock still in his mouth, Hyeonjun paused at the sudden question, thinking.
“Uh… a… pet?”
He’d always wanted one. But his mother had refused—allergies, asthma, no time—and he’d never had the means to care for one himself. He’d promised himself that once he moved out, he’d get a cat. Right now, his mind was simple, one-track. The words spilled out without hesitation.
Hyeontae had been expecting requests like a watch, a gaming console, a phone—maybe even a car. But this? He laughed, delighted. It was unexpected, and easy to grant.
“A pet, huh? Funny you should say that. I actually have a gift prepared for you. Why don’t you open that box over there?”
He pointed to a small box beside the sofa. Hyeonjun obeyed, bringing it over and lifting the lid. Inside was a plastic container filled with something pink.
“A very modern, cutting-edge pet. No fur, so no allergies. Low maintenance too.”
Hyeonjun stared at the rectangular container, baffled. What kind of pet was this?
“Go on. Open it.”
When he did, the pink liquid inside sloshed out, dripping onto his skin. It wasn’t quite a liquid—more like a thick, viscous substance. The moment it hit his body, it began to move, slithering and forming shapes as it crawled over him. It was the company’s latest product: artificial slime, designed for sexual play.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
