The storeroom was cold and quiet, filled with the stale scent of old wood, dust, and forgotten memories. Mike crept inside, careful not to alert anyone—especially the maid. He wasn't supposed to be here, but boredom had driven him into the corners of the house where no one ever looked.
"Let's see what kind of treasure we've got hiding here…" he muttered to himself.
Boxes were stacked high, most half-collapsed, some covered with cloth. Toys from his childhood lay buried under random junk. Broken action figures, a toy gun without the trigger, a stuffed bear missing an eye.
"Ugh. Junk."
Then he noticed it—an old wooden crate shoved under the shelves in the back. The lid was slightly open, like it had been disturbed recently. Curious, Mike pulled it toward him, the wood groaning as it slid across the floor. He opened it.
Inside was a single item: a black leather-bound book with strange, golden runes on the cover. The runes seemed to shimmer faintly, like they were alive.
Mike reached for it. The moment his fingers touched the cover, a pulse of warmth shot through his hand.
"What the…?"
The moment he opened it, the symbols shifted before his eyes, twisting and rearranging themselves into words he could read.
"The one who reads shall awaken the lust of the unseen. Magic is not just power—it is desire."
His heart beat faster. "Magic? Real magic?"
He flipped through more pages. Each one contained phrases, diagrams, and spells. Spells for control. Spells for illusion. Spells for desire.
"This… is insane."
He quickly tucked the book into his hoodie and stood up. On his way out of the storeroom, something caught his eye—a small laundry basket outside the maid's room. On top was a pair of red lace panties, freshly washed and still warm.
Mike paused. His gaze fixed on them.
"I shouldn't…"
But his fingers moved before he could stop himself. He picked them up, stared at them for a moment, then shoved them into his pocket, his pulse racing.
"She'll never know."
He smirked and slipped away back to his room.
---
That night, with the door locked and curtains shut, Mike sat cross-legged on his bed. The candle on his desk flickered gently, casting eerie shadows across the walls.
The book lay open before him.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the panties, placing them gently beside the book. His fingers traced the lace, his mind spinning with anticipation.
"Okay," he whispered. "Let's see what kind of power you've got."
He began reading from the page. The letters glowed faintly as he spoke the words aloud.
"Volucris temptare… ardere mentem…"
As he read, the air in his room grew heavier. Electric. Like the very space around him was vibrating. A soft hum filled the air, low and deep.
His fingers tingled. His body warmed.
"No way… is this actually working?"
He flipped to the next page. At the bottom, a spell was written in bold script:
Desiderium Oculus – To make one's deepest lust become reality.
He read the words slowly, carefully. A rush surged through his veins as if something inside him had just been unlocked.
And then—
Creaaak…
He froze.
From beyond the wall—his parents' room—came the sound of the bed shifting. Then the unmistakable sound of soft, breathy moans.
"…Wait. Are they…?"
He leaned closer to the wall.
His mother's voice echoed faintly, gasping, high-pitched, filled with pleasure.
His father's low grunts followed, steady, deep.
Mike's eyes widened. "Holy… they're really doing it."
He knew he shouldn't be listening. But the book… it had changed something inside him. Made him more sensitive. More aware.
"I… I shouldn't be turned on by this…" he whispered, but he couldn't tear his ears away.
The sounds continued, slow and rhythmic.
His eyes moved back to the panties lying on the bed, next to the glowing book.
"This thing… it's messing with me," he muttered. "Or maybe it's showing me who I really am."
The next spell on the page caught his attention. It had no name, just a single sentence beneath it:
"Say the name of who you desire—and they will feel your presence in their dreams."
Mike stared at it.
He thought of the maid. Her hips swaying every time she walked. The way her lips moved when she scolded him for making a mess.
"…Althea," he whispered.
The book glowed faintly again. The flame of the candle rose for a second, then fell back to normal.
A chill crawled up Mike's spine.
"What… what did I just do?"
He waited for something to happen. Nothing changed. No lightning, no demonic whispers.
Just the sound of his parents still lost in their passion through the wall, and his heart pounding in his chest.
He picked up the panties again and stared at them. "This isn't just a game anymore."
A low vibration buzzed through his hands. The lace trembled slightly in his grip. His mouth went dry.
"Althea's… dreaming of me right now?" he whispered, half terrified, half thrilled.
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the moon.
"This book… it's dangerous. But it's mine now."
He turned back to the bed, his eyes glowing faintly in the candlelight.
"And I'm just getting started."
The house was still.
But behind that silence… came the sounds again.
Soft at first—just faint gasps, barely noticeable. Then louder. Rhythmic. Flesh against flesh. The creaking of a bed.
Mike stood in the dark hallway, his heart hammering in his chest.
They were doing it again.
His parents.
He could hear everything from their room at the end of the corridor. And this time, it wasn't just noise—it was sharp, intense, almost… hungry. His mother's moans were high-pitched and breathless. His father's voice grunted in low, heavy bursts.
Mike felt frozen where he stood, the book still in his hand, pressed against his chest like a secret treasure. His skin tingled. His thoughts raced.
"Why… why can't I stop listening?" he muttered
The sounds pulled him forward.
One step. Then another.
The hallway felt endless, like the world had shrunk down to only this: the door, the sounds, and the strange heat pooling in his chest. He stopped in front of their door—but didn't touch it.
He wanted to see.
He backed away, turned quietly, and slipped through the side entrance. The air outside was cold against his skin. His breath came out in light clouds as he crept around the house to the garden. The moonlight lit the grass with silver as he crouched beneath the wide bedroom window.
*Strong Sexual content ahead*