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My stepmother is same age as me

Note : 

This is a pay to read series.Total of 5

Once a week updates. Get each update when it's released or subscribe for full series and receive it in your mail once updated. 


Illustrations & videos are a mixture of materials i bought from other blog visitors and some i sourced from the internet. 

Model is above 25. Local Singaporean. Photographer is her husband. 
No nudes, only suggestive shots. 





Release date :  Feb 2018




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I never thought a horror story like this would happen to me.

The whole step mother thing should belong only in a fairy tale, this cannot happen in real like.

Not to me.

I found the news impossible to swallow.


I’m very lucky at birth, and for a few years after that.

You must be curious why I would make a statement like that. Usually anyone that is born rich should be considered lucky. You have a head start in life, with more resources at your family’s disposal; chances are you would be successful as well.

I’m born into a rich family, and the family home I stay in is a sprawling compound of lush gardens and large trees. It’s a good class bungalow just off the main retail belt of Singapore, Orchard road.

I have ministers and the powers to be as my neighbours along the same stretch of road.

I fully understood the saying life is unfair when I turned 13 years old. You must be cringing right now, throwing a curse or two at me.

Yes, my family is well off, something that I have contributed absolutely nothing to. I would have been very happy to grow up being a sheltered and pampered kid. Loved by his mother, spolit by his dad.


I would love to be that rich fucker that people curse at, driving a sports car paid for by my dad’s money while I pick up the hottest chick in town.

Yacht party, travelling the world, start a business, there is so much possibility because of the family I was born into, but it didn’t happen.

Not for me.


I felt as if my life had ended prematurely when my mother passed away 2 weeks after my 13th birthday.

The world came crashing down for me and my father.

The passing of my mother changed not only me, but my dad as well. I could see he grew more distant, always in a world of his own. Right at the time when I needed a father the most, he withdrew himself completely.


Auntie May, the family helper that took care of me since the day I was born told me perhaps it was because my dad loved my mother so much that he could not accept the fact that she was gone.

My dad threw all his energy and time into the family business and grew it beyond anyone’s imagination. It got listed on the stock market when I turned 21, but I don’t care.

I don’t give a fuck about what my dad does.

For the same reason he withdrew from my childhood, I withdrew my life from his as well.




Here you have the typical honk kong drama of a rich kid refusing to acknowledge his family or use the resources at his disposal.


I hated my father and all his money.

You know what I hate the most ?



It’s the notion that he thinks that money can solve everything and fill all the gaps in a person’s life.

My mum used to be the one who teaches me about money, the value of a dollar. She gives a $3 a day as pocket money when I was in secondary 1, it’s a decent amount , I could have my lunch and have enough to spare for stationaries and to save.


You know what my father did ?

He was too busy to be doing stuff like making sure I have $3 everyday.



He put a stack of $10 bills on my table every month and expects me to do it myself.

That stack is 800 dollars. 80 bills.

When I’m in secondary one.

It went up to 90, 100, and by the time I was done with my ‘o’ levels and waiting for my results, it went up to 200 bills.

That’s a fucking 2k pocket money for a 16 year old.

What the fuck was he thinking ?



I’m sure you are curious what I did with the money, we’re talking quite a lot of excess cash for a kid.

Well, I refused to touch it.

I took $3 when I was 13, it goes up by $1 every year.


$6 a day was all I took right till the day I completed my last ‘o’ paper.

That was what my mother would have given me.


I kept the rest in a box, a colourful box adorned with ribbons that my mum gave me.

I have no use for the money then but I know the day would come when I need them.



My first major argument with my dad was when I went out to get a job after my ‘o’ level.

I went to work as a store promotor at a chain pharmacy store.

He threw a fit.


He said I was making him ‘lose face’

Dad : I can fucking get you a position in one of the offices, you can learn much more than working at a store…. Fucking embarrassment…


Vulgarities flew and tempers flared.

We shouted at each other in the large and empty house, staffed by 4 other helpers managed by Auntie May.



I refused to quit and my father insulted me with money for the first time that day.

Dad : Are you that hard up for money ?? don’t I give you enough allowance ?? !! You want more !! … you want more money… is that it?? !!!


My own birth father threw money in my face that day.


It’s not a lot, about 400, it’s the amount of loose change he kept in his pocket.

He threw them at me before storming off.



I picked them up and the money joined the rest of my allowance in the box in my room.

I continued my work at the pharmacy, making $5 an hour throughout my holidays while I waited for me ‘o’ level results.


I did ok, well enough to go to a Junior college but I chose to go to a polytechnic. I can’t wait to get a diploma and start working.


I continued working part time while I schooled, reducing my dependence on my dad’s allowance. I no longer kept the money in the box, I split them up into a few portions and saved them in the bank.

They would come in handy one day if I decided to run away or some shit.

You never know.

My mum taught me to always plan for emergencies.


I hardly talk to my dad and when we did talk, it always ended up in a fight. This was the very reason we made it a point to avoid each other.

That’s how sad my family life is.


He comes into my room once a month to give me my allowance which had grew into 3000 a month just when I was about to graduate from polytechnic.

On my day of enlistment into the army, I told no one except Auntie May.


I was one of the few that took the ferry into Pulau Tekong alone.

I loved the army the moment I stepped in. It was an escape for me, out of that dreadful place that no longer feels like home.

I remembered receiving about 25 miss calls from my father one afternoon after I came back from the training. I called back only to get shouted at.



Dad : Where the fuck are you… ?? you decided to run away from home now is it ?? you think you are old enough to do shit like this !!!...



He went on a tirade, berating me for my sense of responsibilities  and shit while I listened on without a word.

I ended with the conversation with one sentence.


James : I enlisted… I’m in Tekong…


Then I hung up.

I received a message with one emotionless word a minute later.

“Sorry “



I stayed in camp as much as I could, even weekends, I would offer to help my friends with their duties, earning a extra buck or 2.


When the day finally came when my service ended, I packed up my bags and settled into my room with a heavy heart.

I started sending out resumes and got a job without 2 weeks.

My Dad asked Auntie May to tell me he had some positions available but I told her I’m not interested.


This was it.

I was determined to forge my own path.

Working for a small engineering firm, I make 1.8k a month fresh out of the army. Not too bad. I can get by.

Yet my allowance did not stop.

4000 would appear on my table like magic every month without fail.

I worked, took night classes and got my degree.


By the time I was 28, I’m making 3.5k. Still, it pales in comparison to the stack of money that keeps appearing on my desk.

I was very prudent with my money, spending only on travelling, visiting countries that my mother said she would bring me. The rest I saved religiously, in the hope that one day I can move into a place of my own.

I dated a few girls but nothing serious.

All of them suddenly became extra nice when they found out when I lived or the companies that my father owned. One even proposed that she move in with me. My dad tried to introduce daughters of friends to me sometimes, throwing some stupid party at our place in an attempt to get me to start networking, but I don’t give a fuck.

Even Auntie May asked if I needed her to introduce someone nice to me.



Auntie May : James ah… auntie recommend someone to you want or not… very nice girl….

James : Auntie May… don’t want la… nowadays… all these girls only after money…. and it’s all my father’s money…. I rather stay single…


Auntie May : Aiyah… you watch too much TV already… there are still nice girls around….


James : I don’t think there are any nice girls around anymore….


Auntie May : Rubbish….. I introduce someone nice… sweet and demure….

James ; If she’s as nice as my mother…. I’ll consider…


Auntie May grew silent for a moment before breaking into a silent smile.



Auntie May : No one…. Will be as sweet as your mother James….lower your expectations a little…

I smiled but said nothing.



On my 30th birthday, Auntie May told me that my dad wanted to have dinner with me.

It came as a surprise because I eat with my father usually once a year on the eve of Chinese new year.

He has never offered to eat with me on my birthday before.


The helpers and Auntie May cooked up a spread.

Home cooked food , the same way my mum would have liked when was still around.



I came down to the dining area at 6.30 pm and I noticed something different.


They set out 3 sets of utensils.

3.

They have never set out 3 set of utensils since the day my mum died.


I had a foreboding feeling in my heart. This better not be some fucking match making session.

Everyone on the house knew how I hated stuff like that.

If my dad did try, I would not hesitate to throw a childish fit and drive the girl away.

Yes, you can say I’m childish, but whatever.
I don’t give a fuck what you think.



I’m not gay, I date around at my own pace, I can sleep around if I want to, I’ll fucking even pay for a social escort.


Just don’t fucking introduce someone you think is good enough for me.


The feeling grew into anger when I noticed the spot where the extra utensil was set belong to my mother.



I heard the click of heels a minute later.

When I turned towards the direction of the noise, I saw a really beautiful and fair lady beside my father.

She could well be a model with her sweet pretty face and hourglass figure.

She’s not exactly young, but I wouldn’t say she’s old either.


She’s about my age I guess , give and take.

My dad ushered the woman to her seat while I remained seated with a bored expression on my face.

The expression soon grew to one of anger as my dad made the introductions.

Dad : James , this is Bella…. Bella… this is my son … James….

Bella gave me a slight nod and a smiled while I remained expressionless.


My dad asked for food to be served and he started talking to Bella as if they knew each other for a long time, ignoring me completely.

I took a deep breath and sighed loudly, asking my dad what the fuck he wanted.

James : What the fuck is this ?? ….

My outburst changed the atmosphere in the dining room.



Auntie May held up a hand at the side, signalling the rest of the staff to stop serving the food.


I could feel the atmosphere tensed up, the same manner in which it always happens when I pick a fight with my father.


My Dad wiped his mouth with his napkin and threw it onto the table while Bella continued drinking her soup.


Dad : Where the fuck did your manners go James ?


James : I think it left together with mum’s passing.


My dad slammed his palm on his table, causing the cutleries to jump.
WHAM!!!


The house staff all retreated into the kitchen with Auntie May’s instructions, knowing full well what was about to happen.

James : I don’t have time for this…. if you are trying to match make Bella to me…. I’ll tell you right now I’m not interested….

That was when my dad smirked.



My own fucking father smirked at me.


Dad : I’m not match making Bella to you…. I’m only introducing her to you….

James : Then ask her to get the fuck out of my mother’s seat at the table…..

My Dad looked at me as if I said something ridiculous.



Dad : She has every right to sit at that spot.

WHAM!

Now was my turn to slam the table as I stood up so hard and fast that the chair was knocked back and onto the floor.

James : What the fuck did you just say ??

Bella finally spoke.

And when she did, it ignited the fuse inside me. The fuse that would lead to a chain of events.

A chain of events that I didn’t know I was capable of.


Bella : James….

James : WHAT !!



Bella : Your father and I are getting married.

I took a couple of seconds to digest that before I burst out laughing.


James : Hahahah… FUCK YOU!.... fuck you… the fuck you are….


Dad : You show some respect to your step-mother to be……. Or you get the fuck out of my house !!!

I glared at my father and I could feel a belly of fire inside my tummy.



James : you want to play this game with me don’t you….. you want to play this game ??....

Dad : fuck you…. come Bella…. Let’s go out for dinner….



I glared at my dad and Bella as she gracefully got up, took a sip of wine and linked arms with my father before walking towards the door.

Right before they exited the door, my dad turned and threw me the ultimatum.

Dad : You either accept the reality…. Or you can get the fuck out of the place….




As the door shut behind them, I smirked and smiled as I drained the wine in my glass.


You may be my father, but you have no idea who you just fucked with.

As for Bella.


I’m not sure if there is anything inside the English language that can describe the things that I’m about to do to you.


James don’t accept reality, unless he is the one that makes them.

Bella, oh Bella.


I’m going to take your life apart, piece by piece.


And by the time I’m done, you’ll wished you never had me as your stepson.














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