"Juicing, huh..."
Sitting at the dining table, enjoying Mommy's homemade milk tofu with a wooden spoon, Momo wiped the creamy froth from the corner of her mouth. Her small feet swung under the table as she looked up at the ceiling, blinking in thought.
"I remember watching a video about a manual juicer that looked like pliers. The structure was simple: two interlocking metal grooves with a mesh filter inside. With long handles, you could use leverage to crush fruit like cracking walnuts."
Momo's little brain was sharp. She didn't give a random answer but considered Chuck's needs and current conditions to offer the most suitable solution.
But after speaking, she frowned slightly, hesitating before adding.
"If it's sugarcane, that juicer would be perfect. But for mulberries, it might mash the pulp into a paste, making the juice cloudy... If Baba wants to make mulberry wine, you need the juice as clear as possible."
Chuck froze, then nodded in agreement.
"True, you're right. So how should we juice mulberries?"
This time, Momo didn't think long. After a slight hesitation, her face flushed, and she lowered her head, speaking somewhat shyly.
"For winemaking, I happened to look up similar info. In medieval Europe, grape juice for wine was... stomped out with feet."
"...Feet?"
Chuck's eyes widened. He hadn't expected that answer.
But thinking about it, Momo was probably right.
Compared to violent mechanical juicers, human feet were relatively soft. Soft, high-water-content fruits like mulberries or grapes didn't need much pressure. Stomping avoided mashing the pulp or crushing the seeds, resulting in clearer juice.
Chuck recalled seeing videos of traditional tequila making in Mexico, which also involved foot stomping. It seemed ancient brewing techniques worldwide were invented by foot fetishists.
Of course, the drinkers probably didn't want to know that.
"Good girl, Momo."
Having found a solution, Chuck rubbed Momo's head in gratitude.
"Hehe..."
The little girl, who loved head pats most, squinted like a kitten. Her feet entangled comfortably under the chair, snuggling tightly into Chuck's arms, humming happily.
Chuck held her, staring thoughtfully at the flickering fireplace.
Foot stomping wasn't a dealbreaker for him. If it happened, he wouldn't do it himself; he'd let Momo do it.
Making wine with mulberry juice stomped by a maiden's tender feet? Chuck had no objections.
And it wasn't complicated. Sugarcane was the trickier part.
Compared to complex hand-cranked juicers, the plier-like manual juicer Momo described suited Chuck's situation better.
Although Chuck hadn't seen one, he could imagine the structure from her description. Probably the size of pliers.
Convenient for home use, but a bit petty for processing bulk sugarcane regularly.
Chuck wasn't worried about waste since Julia's greenhouse produced continuously, but he lacked time for slow juicing. He couldn't just copy the design; he had to modify it into an Island Edition Manual Juicer...
An upsized version!
Yes, Chuck needed efficiency—batch processing. Although this would increase the difficulty, requiring immense strength to crush the cane.
Fortunately, Chuck wasn't an ordinary person.
With physical stats breaking human limits and the Red Potion's exclusive evolution, strength wasn't an issue.
Plan set. Implementation next.
Chuck didn't know the internal structure, but deducing a simple design from function wasn't hard with his high mental stats.
The only difficulty lay in forging.
Tools cast from molds could be hammered freely, but precise instruments were harder.
Designing the mold via DIY, smelting iron ore, casting, forging into steel, and fine-tuning took most of the afternoon. Finally, Chuck created a large "Island Juicer."
It looked exactly as Momo described, but double the standard size. Efficiency would be much higher.
Chuck took an oxidized sugarcane stalk from the cave, cut it into sections, filled the juicer to capacity (about one-third of the stalk), and gripped the steel handles.
He pressed down hard.
Creak...
Considering durability, Chuck didn't make the handles too long, increasing the difficulty several times over.
But as expected, it was effortless for him. Without even activating [Bloodlust Control], the cane was slowly crushed amidst clear squeezing sounds.
Gripping the handles, Chuck felt juice seeping from the fibers, passing through the mesh into the reservoir.
Pressing to the bottom, he released the handles, grabbed a prepared clay pot, and tilted the juicer.
Translucent, pale sugarcane juice flowed out, filling the pot with a sweet aroma.
Once empty, Chuck opened the juicer and removed the dry fiber cake.
Pinching it, he found little moisture remaining. Extraction rate over 80%.
Definitely passable.
Chuck took a sip from the pot. The sweet juice was refreshing and delicious.
Juicing solved. Next, he just had to juice the rest and boil it into sugar like he did with salt.
But he didn't rush. Compared to sugarcane, mulberries spoiled faster.
Using different methods for sugarcane and mulberries increased initial workload but avoided cross-contamination and frequent cleaning.
Chuck found a medium-sized quartz sandstone block, about pot-sized. Using the DIY recipe and steel wedge, he carved a shallow basin.
Placing this stone basin inside a sturdy wooden tub...
A simple mulberry stomping pool was ready.
Infinitely simpler than the juicer.
Naturally, since it was just a container; the actual juicing was manual labor.
"Baba... do I really have to stomp?"
Just finished with her day's work and ready to rest before dinner, Momo was caught by Chuck. After washing her feet, he lifted her into the wooden tub.
In the quartz basin, about twenty pounds of mulberries—a third of the cave's stock—were piled high.
Chuck brought out all the mulberries, intending for Momo to stomp them all at once. Many were turning black, some even smelling faintly of alcohol. Another night, and they'd rot or attract bugs.
"Just stomp. You said ancients made wine with their feet."
"O... okay then."
Momo blushed, bent down to roll her pant legs higher, lifted a pink foot, and tentatively stepped onto the fruit pile.
Squish.
With a burst of juice, Momo's snowy foot was dyed purple. Pale juice overflowed the basin.
Chuck reminded her gently, "Momo, be careful. Try not to let the pulp spill out."
"Mmh, I know."
Momo's face flushed. A fresh sensation appeared in her watery eyes. Though the texture underfoot was weird, crushing so much fruit at once...
Was kinda fun.
Nodding seriously, the little girl stomped with focus.
Plump, ripe mulberries were crushed under her soft feet. Juice seeped slowly but steadily from the basin edge into the wooden tub, spreading across the bottom.
Soon, twenty pounds of mulberries turned into sticky pulp.
Chuck lifted Momo onto a chair, cleaned out the pulp (discarding the residual juice with it), and poured in fresh berries.
Three rounds later, Momo finished stomping nearly sixty pounds of mulberries. Outside, the sunset dyed the sky red.
Chuck brought a basin of clean water to wash the pulp off Momo's feet. Seeing her white feet stained pale purple, they looked at each other and laughed.
"Looks like I'm poisoned, hehe."
"Don't worry, the color will fade soon."
"It's okay, Baba. I don't mind. Helping you makes me happy."
Momo pursed her lips, smiling sweetly.
Seeing her cute, obedient look, Chuck, wiping her feet dry, felt his heart stir. He leaned forward, capturing her tender lips with a hum.
"Mmph~"
Her foot in his hand moved slightly, trembling along with her tongue in his mouth.
Tasting her foot and lips simultaneously, his dragon rose uncontrollably. The girl's body heated up. When their lips parted with a string of saliva, a flushed Momo looked down at the tent in Chuck's pants and covered her face shyly.
"It's almost dinner time..."
"Doesn't matter. I want to eat you first."
Chuck unbuckled his belt, lifting Momo effortlessly from the chair with undeniable dominance.
Her feet hooked around his waist. The cloth covering her fell to the ground. Momo nestled in his broad chest like a delicate doll.
Or rather, a large onahole.
Realizing she couldn't escape her fate before dinner, Momo's flushed face turned dreamy. Looking up at her hero, she pouted coquettishly.
"Momo came to help Baba... now I'm being played with again. Baba is so unreasonable."
"Who told our Momo to be so cute? So obedient and cute, I have to fuck you until I'm satisfied."
The blunt words didn't offend Momo; instead, they made her face flush with excitement, her eyes misty.
She looked up at Chuck, a seductive expression unsuited to her age appearing on her innocent face.
"Really can't do anything about Baba..."
...
Smoke rose from the chimney. The kitchen stove in the upgraded stone house connected automatically to the fireplace flue—practical and loved by Yitong.
Dinner was ready on time. Before serving, it was time to call everyone.
Yitong, wearing an apron and holding a pot of hot rice, walked out of the kitchen. Just as she was about to call out, she heard her daughter's cries from outside.
Her voluptuous figure froze.
Holding the pot, she walked slowly to the window. One look, and she saw her daughter being "used" like a toy outside.
Her beautiful face turned crimson. Under her dress, shy nipples erected instantly with excitement.