Massaging Mother

Ryuki sat at home, feeling his sister Saki's eyes on him as they worked on their homework together. Her staring made him uneasy.

"Are you struggling with your homework?" Ryuki asked her.

Saki didn't answer right away. She kept looking at him instead of her books. Finally, she spoke. "Brother, why don't you ever get first place at school? On my way home, that cuckold said you're the one who taught him."

Ryuki sensed there was more behind her stares, but she wouldn't say it. "Don't you see how the teacher piles everything on Yuta? He's first, so they expect more from him. I'd rather stay mid-rank and avoid the spotlight," he explained.

"Oh, so I don't need the teacher's attention either? It's fine if I get average marks, right?" Saki said, her eyes brightening.

"If you don't make the top ten, I'll stop talking to you. Go ahead and aim for the middle if you want," Ryuki said, waving his hand dismissively.

"That's not fair," she grumbled.

"Fair or not, no top ten means no talking," he replied firmly.

"You're mean, little brother," Saki said, puffing out her cheeks. But she turned back to her homework and started working again.

Once, she'd ranked eleventh. Ryuki hadn't spoken to her for a week after that. Since then, she'd pushed herself and reached the top five. She was smart when she tried. In the game, she was second only to Yuta in exams.

They finished their homework. Ryuki peeled vegetables and prepped dinner while Saki tried to help. She wasn't much use, though. Even in the game, as a high schooler, she couldn't cook. The third heroine, the best cook, tried teaching her, but Saki never picked it up.

Evening came, and their mother returned home. "I'm back," she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

"Welcome back, Mother!" Saki chirped, running to hug her with a big smile.

Seeing Saki lifted their mother's spirits a little. Ryuki welcomed her too, and she rubbed his head. "Thanks, as always," she said. She looked more tired than usual tonight.

After she cooked dinner and they ate, Ryuki said, "Mother, time for your daily massage."

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you. Your massages feel amazing and help me sleep so well."

"You say that every day. You don't need to thank me—I should thank you for working all day and making our meals," Ryuki replied. She began undressing.

At eight years old, Ryuki still bathed with her, and it didn't feel strange yet. She stripped completely, revealing her breasts and the small pink slit between her legs. He admired her quietly, hoping he could still see this when he was older.

Once naked, she lay face down on the floor. Ryuki climbed onto her back, ready to start.

"Little brother, will you massage me when I grow up?" Saki asked, watching them.

"I've told you a bunch of times—yes," Ryuki said, sighing as he pressed his hands onto his mother's back.

"But I want one now," Saki whined.

"No. Massages are for Mother, who works all day. Kids like you don't get them," Ryuki said, sliding his hands along his mother's shoulders and collarbone.

He asked his gift in his mind, What's the best way to massage my mother?

The answer came: [Press there for a second, move an inch down and press softly for two seconds, then slide your hand to her shoulder slowly.]

Ryuki followed the instructions precisely. He pressed his thumbs into the spot just below her neck for a second, feeling the tension there. Then he moved an inch lower, pressing gently for two seconds, letting his fingers sink into her warm skin. Slowly, he slid his hands up to her shoulders, kneading the muscles with care. His mother let out a soft sigh, relaxing under his touch.

"Hmph, when I grow up and work, you'd better massage me every day. Remember that, little brother," Saki said, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, when you actually work," Ryuki replied. His mother chuckled, her face softening with happiness. That made Ryuki happy too.

He kept going, working her shoulders with steady pressure. His small hands dug into the knots, loosening them bit by bit. She groaned quietly as he pressed harder, smoothing out the stiffness from her long day. Next, he moved down her back, tracing her spine with his fingers. He pushed gently at first, then firmer, feeling the muscles shift beneath his palms. His gift guided him—press here, hold there, slide slowly—and he obeyed, making sure every move was perfect.

When he reached her lower back, he used both hands to knead the area above her hips. Her skin was soft but tight from sitting or standing too long. He worked in small circles, pressing deeply, then lightly, alternating to ease the ache. She murmured something content, her voice muffled against the floor. Ryuki smiled to himself, proud of how well he could help her.

He moved to her hips, squeezing gently, then slid his hands over her buttocks. He kept it simple, pressing firmly to relax the muscles without lingering too long. His gift didn't suggest anything odd, so he stayed focused. Down her thighs he went, gripping the thick muscles and rolling them under his palms. She sighed again, louder this time, as he worked out the soreness. He spent extra time there, kneading from the tops of her thighs to the backs of her knees, feeling her tension melt away.

Her calves came next. He pressed his thumbs into the tight spots, holding for a few seconds before sliding down. Her feet were last—he rubbed each one carefully, working the arches and toes. She twitched a little, ticklish, but didn't pull away. By the time he finished, her whole body looked limp, fully relaxed.

"I'd love to touch her breasts," Ryuki thought, "but that's not a normal massage. Just erotic ones, and I can't do that now."

When he was done, they all headed to bed. His mother stayed naked, as Ryuki had suggested years ago. At five, he'd told her sleeping nude after a massage was healthier. Since he was just a kid to her, she'd agreed without hesitation and kept the habit.

It was nice for Ryuki to see, and he hoped to grow up fast for reasons he didn't voice.

Saki and their mother fell asleep quickly, nestled together. Ryuki stayed awake, his mind buzzing. He asked his gift to confirm they were out cold. The answer was yes. Carefully, he moved his mother's arm off him and slipped out of bed. Her smartphone sat on the charger nearby. He grabbed it, unlocked it with her passcode—he'd seen her use it plenty of times—did something quick, and slid back into her embrace, acting like nothing happened.