When He Becomes My Massage Gun

After an 800-meter run, I hide under the blanket to use the vibrating massager.

At that moment, Uncle Theo barges into my room and asks coldly, "Does it feel that good?"

I nod vigorously. The massage really does feel wonderful.

Later, he yanks off his tie and uses it to bind my wrists.

"It's too small and slow. Try me instead."

I can only stare at him in bewilderment. But Uncle Theo, it's just a massage gun!

There had to be something wrong with my school for arranging laps around the running field on the same day as the evening self-study session.

Cursing, I fished out the massage gun I had bought online and switched it on. Immediately, a wave of tingling numbness spread from my thigh, the sensation almost euphoric.

I couldn't stop myself from letting out a deep sigh of pleasure.

Just then, the door swung open.

Theo Whitman—or rather, Uncle Theo to me—stood in the doorway, backlit by the light from the corridor. His gaze was dark and unreadable.

My moan caught in my throat in an instant, and a wave of embarrassment washed over me as I hurriedly sat up straight.

"Uncle Theo, you're back."

Worried that he would find out I had been running laps as punishment, I guiltily reached out to turn off the massage gun.

However, in my panic, I accidentally pressed the button to change it to the highest speed instead.

And so, a strangely shaped object protruded from between my legs while a loud buzz cut through the silence of the room.

"What are you doing?" Uncle Theo's voice sounded a little raspy.

"I'm using this…"

As I answered, I reached down to grab the madly vibrating object, only for Uncle Theo to jerk his head to the side immediately. A red flush spread across the tips of his ears.

"How could you be so shameless as to show it to me? Turn it off!"

Was he really that old-fashioned that he couldn't even accept a massage gun? Then just how tense must his muscles be after he spent all day bent over a desk?

A wave of sympathy washed over me. Feeling bad for the man, I decided to introduce him to the wonderful world of massage guns.

I cleared my throat before saying, "There's no need to turn it off. You can come sit here and try it out. It really feels very good!"

Uncle Theo's brows twitched. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?"

I wasn't surprised that he was scared. After all, such a large object was buzzing madly under the covers. It was indeed a daunting prospect.

At that thought, I quickly switched the massage gun to a more relaxing pace. Gripping it in my right hand, I ignored the vibrations on my palm and patiently explained it to him.

"It imitates human movements, but in a more exaggerated manner. Besides that, it can reach deep inside to thoroughly relax the body. It's even better than a person's touch!"

Uncle Theo frowned, and when he spoke, his voice was lower than he realized. "You even tried a real person's touch?"

"Well, no."

Seeing him rub his temples in frustration and annoyance, I suddenly felt a little bit guilty. Ever since he took me in, he had been so busy with work that he left early in the morning and returned late at night.

It was no wonder he didn't have any time to try new things and adapt.

After that bout of self-reflection, I rolled up my sleeves before hugging his thigh.

"Don't be scared, Uncle Theo. How about I use my hands first to help you get familiar with it? You'll like it."

The muscles beneath my hands were truly firm and solid. I took advantage of the situation to grope him a few times and eagerly leaned closer.

Suddenly, I was reminded of those incredibly handsome male protagonists in romance novels. If I were one of those female protagonists, I would've eagerly submitted to those men too!

Yet just as I was a hair's breadth away from Uncle Theo's abs, I was lifted into the air mercilessly, just like one would pick up a baby chick.

"Brooke Dalton!"

I shuddered in fright.

At that moment, the folded note my best friend, Mandy Lane, and I had been passing between us during class that day slipped out of my pocket and fell to the floor.

It would be far too humiliating if the details of our conversation saw the light of day.

I hurriedly called out, "Don't look!"

I reached out in a panic to snatch it away, but Uncle Theo had already unfolded the piece of paper.

Mandy had started by asking, "What are you daydreaming about?"

I responded, "I'm thinking about kissing my husband. Now stop bothering me."

I didn't actually have a husband. I was referring to my favorite singer—Callum Hemmings, a man I was absolutely crazy about.

However, I knew that if I told the stubborn, conservative Uncle Theo that, it would only make the situation worse.

Unexpectedly, my silence made him lose his composure.

"You… have a boyfriend?"

It was the first time I had ever heard his voice tremble.

"You bought that because of him?"

Uncle Theo's eyes were dark and boundless like a night sky.