The Estate
"His father's death left everything to his stepmother. Her mother—his step-grandmother—controls the will. The condition for his share: satisfy them both. Regularly. Documented."
My father died three months ago.
The reading of the will happened yesterday.
Everything—the house, the investments, the business, all of it—goes to my stepmother Victoria. Every single asset. I'm listed as a secondary beneficiary, but the conditions attached to my inheritance are... unusual.
"To receive his share," the lawyer reads, his voice carefully neutral, "Daniel must fulfill his familial obligations to both Mrs. Victoria Caldwell and Mrs. Evelyn Caldwell-Morton for a period of no less than twelve months. Performance will be documented. Final disbursement at the discretion of Mrs. Caldwell-Morton."
Victoria—my stepmother.
Evelyn—her mother. My step-grandmother.
The lawyer looks up. "Any questions?"
I have several.
Victoria is forty-seven.
She married my father when I was twenty, ten years ago. He was sixty then, wealthy, desperate for companionship after my mother died. Victoria was what he needed—warm, present, affectionate.
And large.
She was probably two-twenty when they married. Now she's closer to two-fifty, maybe more. My father liked to feed her, she often joked. Liked to watch her grow. She carries it beautifully—heavy breasts, round belly, wide hips. The body of a woman who's been loved and fed well.
Evelyn is older, of course. Seventy-one, if the math is right. And even larger than her daughter.
I'd guess three hundred pounds. Maybe more. The kind of massive that takes up a room. White hair, sharp blue eyes, a smile that suggests she knows things you don't.
They're both sitting across from me now, in the lawyer's office.
Both watching me process the will.
"Familial obligations," I repeat.
"A broad term," Victoria says. "Open to interpretation."
"My interpretation," Evelyn adds. "Which is what matters."
The lawyer clears his throat. "The specifics are in the addendum. Shall I read—"
"We'll explain privately." Victoria stands. "Daniel, please come with us."
I follow.
What choice do I have?
The family estate is forty minutes outside the city.
My father bought it fifteen years ago. Renovated it completely. Made it into a monument to his success—and, after he married Victoria, a monument to their relationship.
Evelyn moved in after he got sick. "To help," she said.
I think she moved in because she saw an opportunity.
Now I'm finding out what kind.
We sit in the library.
High ceilings, floor-to-ceiling books, leather furniture arranged around a cold fireplace. Victoria pours drinks. Evelyn watches me from her chair—a massive wingback that still barely contains her.
"Your father was a complicated man," Victoria begins. "He had... specific tastes. Preferences that extended beyond the usual."
"I don't—"
"He liked big women." Evelyn's voice is blunt. "He liked Victoria because she's big. He liked me for the same reason." She pauses. "And yes, Daniel. He fucked us both."
The whiskey I'm drinking goes down the wrong pipe.
"What?"
"It's more common than you think." Victoria sips her drink calmly. "In certain circles. A man with wealth and appetites finds willing partners. Sometimes those partners are related."
"My father was sleeping with both of you?"
"For the last eight years." Evelyn's smile is thin. "Since I moved in to 'help.' He was very... grateful."
I set down my glass. "What does this have to do with the will?"
They exchange a look.
"Everything," Victoria says.
The arrangement, as they explain it, is straightforward.
My father wrote the will to ensure his lifestyle continued after his death. The "familial obligations" clause is exactly what it sounds like. To inherit, I must take my father's place.
In every way.
"We're not asking you to love us," Victoria says. "We're asking you to perform."
"Twice a week at minimum." Evelyn produces a document. "Sessions documented by video. Quality reviewed monthly. Disbursement of your inheritance contingent on satisfactory performance."
"You're asking me to—"
"Fuck us." Evelyn leans forward. "Both of us. Regularly. For a year. And on camera, so we can prove compliance to the lawyers."
"This is insane."
"This is two million dollars." Victoria's voice is gentle. "Your share. Invested properly, enough to set you up for life."
"All you have to do," Evelyn finishes, "is satisfy your father's widows."
I should walk away.
Leave the money, leave the estate, leave these two women and their bizarre demands. Start fresh. Make my own way.
But two million dollars is two million dollars.
And if I'm being honest—brutally, shamefully honest—I've thought about Victoria since the day my father introduced her.
I just never expected to think about her mother too.
"Show me the contract," I say.
They smile.
The first session is awkward.
We're in the master bedroom—my father's bedroom, which makes it worse. A camera mounted in the corner, red light blinking. Victoria and Evelyn on the bed, undressing with practiced ease.
"Your father liked to start with me," Evelyn says. "He called it 'paying respects to the elder.' Then Victoria would join."
"I'm not my father."
"No." Evelyn lies back, spreads her legs. Three hundred pounds of aged flesh, demanding attention. "You're not. Let's see what you are."
I start with Victoria instead.
Evelyn frowns, but doesn't object. Victoria seems pleased—being chosen first, for once. She pulls me down onto the bed, onto her, and I sink into softness.
"That's it," she murmurs. "Don't think about the cameras. Don't think about her. Just be with me."
I try.
She's wet already—anticipation, maybe, or something else. Her body welcomes me, envelops me. Two hundred and fifty pounds of stepmother beneath me, around me.
"I've thought about this," she admits. "More than I should. Watching you grow up. Waiting for... something like this."
"Victoria—"
"Don't." She pulls me deeper. "Don't talk. Just fuck me."
I fuck her.
Evelyn doesn't wait for me to finish.
She moves behind me while I'm still inside Victoria. Her massive body presses against my back. Her hands reach around, find my chest, scrape with nails.
"My turn," she says. "Switch."
I switch.
Evelyn is different than her daughter. Larger, obviously. But also more demanding. She knows exactly what she wants and tells me—in detail—how to provide it.
"Deeper. Harder. Grab my tits—yes, like that. Now pull—"
I follow instructions.
Beside us, Victoria touches herself. Watches her mother fuck her stepson. The camera captures everything.
They make me come inside Evelyn first.
"Contract specifies finishing," she explains afterward. "First week, you alternate between us. After that, we decide."
"Decide what?"
"Who deserves you more." Victoria is already getting dressed. "It's a competition, Daniel. It's always been a competition."
Evelyn laughs.
"And I always win."
Three Months Later
The competition has intensified.
Victoria wants me on Tuesdays and Fridays. Evelyn on Wednesdays and Saturdays. They've negotiated Sundays for joint sessions—which always end with them fighting over who gets me last.
The cameras record everything.
The lawyers review monthly.
I'm three months closer to my inheritance.
And somehow, impossibly, I've started to enjoy it.
The joint sessions are the worst.
Or the best. I can't decide anymore.
They take turns directing. "Eat your grandmother," Victoria orders. "Make her scream while I ride you."
"Fuck your stepmother harder," Evelyn counters. "Show her what a real man can do."
They compete through me. Use me as a proxy for years of mother-daughter rivalry.
And I let them.
Because the money is good.
Because they're both better than they have any right to be.
Because this is my life now, and I've stopped pretending I hate it.
One Year Later
The final session.
Victoria and Evelyn, side by side on the bed. Me above them, inside them, giving them what the contract demands.
"Compliance confirmed," the lawyer will say tomorrow. "Inheritance disbursed."
But right now, there are no lawyers. No contracts. Just two women who've become something more than step-relatives.
"We should discuss year two," Evelyn says afterward.
"Year two?"
"The continuation clause." Victoria produces another document. "Optional but encouraged. Another year, another million."
I look at the contract. At the women. At the life I never expected but somehow built.
"Where do I sign?"
They smile.
Some inheritances come with conditions.
Some conditions become lifestyles.
And some lifestyles—the best ones—come with documentation.