เข้าสู่ระบบMonths passed in a haze of cum, sweat, and slow poison. Mia’s belly swelled beautifully—round, tight, glowing under the stretched skin. At five months the ultrasound showed two perfect heartbeats, tiny fists waving like they were already fighting for space. Rachel framed the sonogram picture on the nursery wall and kissed it every morning while Mia slept off the latest round of morning sickness that never quite went away. The poison had escalated. Rachel now slipped six to seven drops into every smoothie, every herbal tea, every glass of water Mia drank. It tasted like nothing. It burned like hell inside. Mia’s skin took on a faint yellowish tint doctors chalked up to “pregnancy glow” mixed with fatigue. Her nails grew brittle. Her gums bled when she brushed her teeth. She tired faster, bruised easier, but the sex never slowed. If anything, it got hungrier. By seven months Mia could barely walk without waddling, but she still crawled onto the king-size bed every other night
The clinic smelled like antiseptic and money. White walls, soft lighting, the kind of place where rich people paid strangers to grow their babies. Rachel sat in the plush chair beside Alex, legs crossed tight so the damp spot on her thong wouldn’t show. Mia was already on the table in the procedure room, legs in stirrups, shaved pussy glistening under the bright lights because the doctor had just finished the prep. Rachel had slipped the first dose of poison into Mia’s protein shake that morning—two drops, tasteless, odorless. Just enough to start the slow rot in her sister’s blood. By the time the baby came, Mia’s organs would be soup. But right now Mia looked perfect: flushed, nipples hard against the thin gown, eyes glassy with excitement. The doctor smiled like this was normal. “Embryo transfer complete. Two perfect blastocysts from Rachel’s eggs, fertilized with Alex’s sperm. Mia, you’re officially our surrogate. Bed rest for forty-eight hours, then light activity. We’ll co
Mia moved in the following Saturday with two suitcases and a smile that could cut glass. Rachel helped carry the bags upstairs, noticing how Mia’s hips swayed extra when Alex was watching from the doorway. She wore a thin white sundress with no bra—her nipples dark shadows under the fabric, already stiff from the air conditioning or the thrill of stepping into enemy territory. “Guest room is all yours,” Rachel said brightly, setting the suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed. “Bathroom is shared with the master, but we’ll make it work. Family first, right?” Mia turned, eyes glittering. “Absolutely. I want to be as close as possible… to both of you.” She hugged Rachel longer than necessary, pressing her full breasts against Rachel’s smaller ones. Rachel felt the hard points of Mia’s nipples drag across her shirt and had to fight the urge to grab a fistful of that black hair and yank. Instead she patted Mia’s back like a good big step sister. That night they had a “welcome
Rachel’s hands trembled as she clutched her phone in the dark walk-in closet. The hidden camera she had installed two weeks ago—supposedly to watch the new cleaning lady was now streaming live from their bedroom. And what it showed made her thighs clench so hard she could feel her own pulse throbbing between them. Anger and hunger. There was her husband Alex, naked, sweaty, muscles rippling under the low light of their bedside lamp. His thick, veined penis, nine inches of pure fucking pleasure that she used to ride every other day was buried balls deep in her little step sister Mia. Mia’s legs were wrapped around his waist like a whore in heat, ankles locked, heels digging into his ass as he pounded her. The wet, obscene slap of skin on skin filled the audio. Mia’s pussy lips were stretched obscenely around him, glistening with cream, every thrust forcing a fresh gush of her juices to drip down his heavy balls and soak the sheets Rachel had just washed that morning. “Fuck, Mia… yo
Morning light sliced through the half-closed blinds like accusation. I woke up first. Harlan’s arm was still slung heavy across my waist, his breath slow and warm against the back of my neck. His chest rose and fell in the kind of deep sleep that only comes after you’ve fucked yourself empty of everything except regret. I didn’t move. Didn’t want to. If I stayed perfectly still, maybe the house would forget we existed. Maybe the clock would stop. But clocks don’t listen. Somewhere downstairs a coffee maker gurgled to life. Chloe’s muffled yawn floated up the stairs. Lila’s voice followed—bright, sleepy, already complaining about how early the sun was. Reality crashed in cold. I slipped out from under his arm. Careful. Silent. His fingers flexed once like they were reaching for me even in sleep, then relaxed. I stood naked beside the bed for a second, looking down at him. Hair mussed across the pillow. Jaw shadowed with stubble. The faint red marks my nails had left on his
The house felt smaller after that afternoon. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like footsteps coming to find us. Every laugh from downstairs felt like a countdown. I kept waiting for the moment someone would knock on the office door, or worse—push it open without knocking—and see the mess we’d made of each other. But no one did. Lila and Chloe stayed glued to the couch through two movies and half a bottle of cheap rosé. They called up for pizza around eight. Ordered extra cheese, extra pepperoni, the works. Harlan answered the door when it arrived, paid with his card, brought the boxes in like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t just cum down my throat earlier while I knelt on his office rug trying not to moan loud enough to wake the neighborhood. He set the pizza on the coffee table. Looked at me once—quick, searing—then sat in his armchair like always. Legs spread. Casual. Untouchable. I took a slice. Ate it without tasting it. My lips still felt swollen from him. My







