An awkward dinner

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Sitting at our dinner table, an idea began to form in my mind. In our previous negotiation, Karen had already agreed to do all of the household chores. What if I could also use the marker to take ownership of how she did them?

The marker had already proven its worth by helping me renegotiate the terms of Veronica's use of her own car. I had gone from having a personal chauffeur to having a personal chauffeur who gave me blowjobs.

Or at least promised to give me one blowjob sometime in the future. It was a work in progress.

It seemed logical that this ability to renegotiate could extend to other agreements as well, like the chores Karen was now responsible for.

Still, I was worried doing this might stretch the pen's powers again and make it heat up even more. It's not like I would be writing directly on something physical related to the concept of chores. Maybe if there was a chore list somewhere in the house, but we didn't have anything like that. Not yet, anyway.

I felt for the pen in my pocket, finding it still warm to the touch. It hadn't cooled down completely, but it was noticeably cooler. That should be fine, right?

Right?

At the end of the day, it would be gamble. Unfortunately, it was one that was difficult to say no to, especially when Karen looked so damn gorgeous in an apron.

There was something innately sexy about seeing my MILF of a stepmom, who had never done a days work in her life, dressed up like that for me. It was the little things I suppose.

Besides, I wasn't planning to push Karen as hard as I had pushed Veronica. This should, hopefully, make the use of the pen less taxing. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I was willing to take that chance.

No copium here.

With a subtle nod to myself, I decided to go ahead with my plan.

"I'm glad you brought this up, Karen," I said, maintaining my casual yet authoritative tone. "I've actually been wanting to talk to you about the housework you've been doing."

Karen hadn't actually brought anything up, but I saw no need to remind her of that detail.

"So, tell me, what exactly have you been doing around the house?" I asked, leaning back in my chair and fixing my gaze on her.

Karen cleared her throat, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Well, I've been cooking, dusting, vacuuming, doing the laundry, and today I tried my hand at some deep cleaning in the kitchen."

"And how do you think you've been doing with all that?" I continued, watching her reaction closely.

She hesitated for a moment before replying, "I think it's been fine. I'm still getting the hang of it, but I believe it's going well."

"Are you sure about that?" I pressed, giving her a pointed look.

Karen's response was tinged with uncertainty. "I... I hope so. I've been doing my best, Marcus, but if there's anything specific you want me to improve on, please let me know."

Turning my attention to my stepsister, I asked, "What do you think, Lily?" She seemed a bit uncomfortable with the topic, but I could tell she was trying to be supportive of her mother.

"Well, I think Mom's been doing pretty good so far," Lily said tentatively, her voice carrying a note of sincerity. "It's a big change for her and she's not used to it yet .. but she's trying her best."

I scoffed at her response, turning back to Karen. "Lily's just being nice. We all know you've been doing a terrible job," I said bluntly, my tone dismissive.

Karen's face fell slightly, a mix of hurt and surprise at my harsh words. "I... I thought I was doing okay," she stammered, her confidence visibly shaken.

"Nah, you've missed so many things," I retorted, pointing out the flaws in her efforts. "You got the shelves, but the living room still has dust on the window sills. My bathroom wasn't cleaned at all, and you totally forgot to organize my study area. It's like you're not even trying."

I leaned back in my chair, scrutinizing her. Karen stood there, her body language a mix of defeat and embarrassment. Despite the situation, her appearance was still striking. The way her clothes hugged her figure, the subtle movements as she nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other – it was hard not to notice her body.

"And what's with that apron?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, my tone sarcastic. "Trying to play make-believe as a housewife?"

Karen's expression tightened. "It's just practical for cleaning," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness.

"But you're missing the big picture here, Karen," I continued, pushing my agenda. "This house, my house, it needs to be in top shape. You agreed to take care of it, remember? And right now, you're falling short."

Her eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and realization. "I know I agreed to help out more around the house," she said slowly, "but I didn't realize it would be this... detailed."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Details are important, Karen. Especially when they're about my comfort and living conditions. And frankly, you're falling short of the basics."

Karen bit her lip, clearly struggling with the situation. "I see your point," she conceded after a moment. "I'll pay more attention to the specifics. I just need to get used to this new routine."

"That's all I'm asking," I replied, a sense of satisfaction at her gradual capitulation. "Just remember, this isn't personal. It's practical."

It was definitely personal.

Lily, who had been silent for most of the conversation, finally spoke up, though her voice lacked her usual confidence. This was a much more serious conversation than we'd ever had as a family, even after dad died.

"You can't treat Mom like that. It's not right," she said, a hint of protest in her tone.

I turned to face her, ready with a rebuttal. "Why not, Lily? She agreed to this arrangement. It's part of our deal for you both staying in the house."

"But that doesn't mean you can just boss her around and criticize everything she does," Lily argued, her voice gaining a bit of strength.

"It's not about bossing her around. You're missing the point," I countered. "It's about making sure she keeps her end of the deal. She needs to understand what's expected of her."

As I argued with Lily, I suddenly realized that I was starting to feel warm. The familiar feeling of magical heat washed over me as the power of my magic marker kicked into gear. I paused mid-sentence, the discomfort momentarily throwing me off. That was fast.

Lily seized the opportunity to press her point. "Just because you have this deal doesn't give you the right to be so harsh. Mom's trying her best."

As my mind raced to respond to her, the heat from the pen intensified slightly, going from warm to uncomfortable.

Last time, I noticed the power had changed my behavior to be more irrational and demanding. Unfortunately, this only caused me to use up the marker's energy faster as it struggled to keep up with the additional demands I was prone to making. I knew I needed to wrap up this conversation quickly before the negative feedback loop spun out of control.

"Lily, listen," I said urgently, trying to regain control of the situation. "It's important that your mom understands the expectations. We all have our place in this household."

"But you're taking it too far," Lily insisted, her voice laced with concern.

"This is how things are now. You need to accept that," I said firmly. "Your mom and I have an agreement, and it needs to be respected. It's for the best for all of us."

"But this isn't fair, you can't just—" she began, her voice rising.

I cut her off abruptly, my voice calm, yet stern. "Karen, control your daughter. I don't appreciate her attitude, and I will not be disrespected in my own house."

Lily's face flushed with anger, and she opened her mouth to retort, but this time, Karen intervened, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Lily, that's enough," Karen said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Lily, still visibly angry, fell silent, her lips pressing together tightly. She may not respect me, but she respected her mom.

Karen turned to me, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry, Marcus. I'll talk to her. Please, tell me what needs to be done. I'll make sure we follow your rules. We don't want to be kicked out of the house."

As she spoke, Karen's body language conveyed her worry. I had never seen her like this before, and I had to admit, I liked it. Her posture was slightly bowed, a stark contrast to her usual elegance. Her hands were clasped together in front of her, resting against the table. Her head was tilted slightly downward, even as she stared up at me through her lashes, waiting for my response.

As I paused, looking between Karen and Lily, I could feel the tension in the room, thick and almost tangible.

Honestly, I might have been the most tense out of all of us, the discomfort from the pen's heat gnawing at me like a fever. At this point, I think the sensation was far worse than what I had experienced with Veronica, but it was hard to tell with my mind so clouded.

Finally, I addressed Karen. "Fine, but only because you've been trying to be such a good little caretaker," I said, my tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and disdain. "But let's be clear, you're barely scraping by. I expect better."

I then turned my attention to Lily, who was still simmering with anger. "And you," I continued sharply, "need to learn your place. This isn't a democracy. It's my house, and you'll respect that. Or maybe you'd like to take over your mother's chores as well?"

Karen's expression was one of quiet resignation, tinged with a hint of fear. It was clear that my words had struck a chord, reminding her of the precariousness of their situation.

Lily, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to argue, to fight back, but a glance from Karen silenced her. She looked surprisingly cute, getting all huffy.

Her cheeks, usually a soft peach, now flushed a deeper shade of pink, as if painted by her rising frustration. Ger eyebrows, finely arched and usually relaxed, knitted together in a delicate expression of annoyance. Her big, expressive eyes seemed to dance with fiery sparks, contrasting with their usual carefree twinkle.

Lily's lips pursed into an irresistible pout. I watched, almost in awe, as she bit her lower lip slightly, a gesture that, to him, only amplified her cuteness. Even the way she placed her hands on her hips, trying to assert some authority, seemed endearingly playful to him.

If I wasn't in so much pain, I might have stared at those lips forever. But I had to get moving.

Standing up from the table abruptly, I towered over Karen and Lily. Karen's posture was submissive, her gaze downcast, while Lily still held defiance in her eyes.

"Karen, since you're still struggling with your job, I'll help you out," I said, my tone clearly patronizing. "I'll give you a list of chores and exactly how I want them done. Consider it a favor, until you can learn to do things properly."

Like all favors, I would expect her to pay it back.

Karen looked up, her expression a mix of gratitude and humiliation. It was clear she was torn between appreciating the guidance and feeling belittled by my offer.

"And Lily," I continued, turning my attention to her. "You were really disrespectful today. You don't get to be a brat. I expect a proper apology from you soon. But in the meantime, as a punishment, you're not allowed to use the upstairs bathroom anymore."

Lily's eyes widened in shock. "What? But that's—"

"No buts," I cut her off. "That's my decision. Deal with it."

At this point, it took every ounce of self-control I had to keep from gasping and panting like a dog. Given that, I was honestly quite proud that I was able to come up with that last rule about the bathroom. Could I have come up with something better if I wasn't on the verge of being hospitalized? Probably. But all in all, it was a good perk for me and it would mean that I could skip fighting with Lily for our shared space in the morning.

"Now, I suggest both of you reflect on your actions tonight," I said, my voice cold and authoritative. "And while you're at it, clean up the dinner table. It's the least you can do after your disappointing performances today."

Without another glance, I turned and stormed away the dining room, heading upstairs as fast as my feet would take me.

As soon as I reached my room, I passed out.