Makoto looked at his children playing on the floor, then back at the four women who had built this life with him. Makoto sniffed, making a wet, choked sound, letting Mafuyu wipe the tears from his eyes with her thumb. "I love you all, too," he said, his voice thick with an emotion he couldn't quite name.
That was supposed to be a happy and wholesome moment, but somehow his cock betrayed him, slowly getting hard in his pants. "Reminds me again," he said, a familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes, "whose turn is it tonight?"
A choked laugh escaped Mafuyu as she patted his cheek. The heavy emotion that had filled the room evaporated instantly, replaced by a familiar competitive and horny energy. It was like someone had flipped a switch.
"It's my turn," Yuna declared instantly, crossing her arms with a smirk. "I'm the main wife. I always go first. That's the rule!"
"Actually," Mika interjected, already checking her phone, "according to the schedule we agreed on, it is Ayane's night."
Ayane pumped her fist in the air with a triumphant "YES!" before slinging an arm around Makoto's shoulders. "See? The system works! Don't worry, boss, I'm going to give you a night you'll never forget as a warm-up for our anniversary." She winked, her grin full of lust. "I hope you've been saving your stamina."
Mafuyu just shook her head, an amused smile on her face as she watched the familiar chaos unfold. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, her voice carrying a shy promise. "Don't worry. My turn is on Sunday. And I've been thinking about what you said… about being a masochist bitch."
"Well, I guess we can let Asuka sleep with Yumi tonight, then," he giggled, turning to Ayane. "Are you still keeping that Yor costume?"
Ayane's eyes went wide, then darkened with delicious heat. The predatory grin returned, full force. "Oh, that Yor costume," she said as she leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "Honey, I keep all the costumes. You never know when you'll need them for a special occasion."
She pulled back, her gaze raking over him with a hungry promise. "And don't worry about Asuka. She and Yumi can have a sleepover in Yuna's room. They'll probably stay up all night plotting world domination, anyway. It'll be a good team-building exercise for them."
"Absolutely not!" Yuna snarled, her face twisted. "My room is not a daycare for delinquent toddlers! And you are not wearing that slutty assassin dress in my house without my permission!"
Mika, ever the voice of calm reason, gave Yuna a shrug. "It is her turn, Yuna-chan. The schedule is very clear." She gave Makoto a deliberate wink. "Have fun, you two. Don't be too loud. Some of us have an early morning business call."
Ayane grinned with a feral glint in her eyes. "Oh, we won't be loud. We'll be thorough." She took his hand and led him back to her room. "Come on, Harem King."
===
Makoto followed Ayane into her room and sat patiently on the bed, waiting. Ayane's room was a chaotic fusion of her past and her present. On one wall, arranged shelves held rows of manga and impressive Gundam models. On the opposite wall, crayon drawings of a giant robot fighting a pink blob (presumably Asuka and Yumi) were taped up with loving care. The air smelled faintly of baby powder and old paper.
"Did your breasts get even bigger after birthing Asuka?" Makoto asked teasingly when he glanced at Ayane's tattoo on her collarbone.
Ayane let out a loud, unrestrained laugh at his question. She turned from her closet with a black dress held in her hand. "Of course they did," she boasted, puffing out her chest with pride. "There's more for you to enjoy, right?"
As she turned to lay the costume on the bed, the light caught the delicate black ink on her collarbone. A simple, elegant script permanently marking her skin: Makoto ♡ Ayane ♡ Asuka. She saw Makoto looking, and her playful grin softened into something more possessive.
She traced the letters with her finger. "Remember this?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I got it a few months after she was born. Yuna has her 'main wife' title, so I wanted something nobody could ever take away."
She looked at him, her eyes blazing with unwavering love. "It's our family sigil. The mark of my victory."
Ayane dropped her everyday clothes to the floor without a second thought, standing before him in a simple black bra and panties. Her body was fuller, softer in some places, and stronger in others. It was the body of a mother, and it was devastatingly sexy.
Then she picked up the familiar, elegant black dress of the Thorn Princess and began to slip it on. "Now, let's see if you can handle the Yor Forger mommy edition," she said as she zipped it up, the fabric hugging her curves perfectly."
"Of course." He quickly undressed and lay down in her lap. "Feed me, please, Mommy."
A throaty laugh rumbled in Ayane's chest. Her eyes, already sparkling with lust, now lit up with a degenerate delight. The request hit every single one of her buttons: kinky, a little taboo, and a complete validation of her maternal body.
Ayane didn't hesitate. She shifted on the bed, settling him more comfortably in her lap. Her hands, clad in Yor's black leather gloves, came up to cradle his head with surprising tenderness. "Look at you, my big, thirsty baby."
With practiced slowness, she reached for the neckline of the elegant black dress. "The Thorn Princess, reduced to a milkmaid… Or maybe… this is my most important mission yet." She pulled down the fabric, and one of her breasts, full and heavy from motherhood, spilled free.
It was larger, rounder, and the areola darker than he remembered. She guided Makoto's head forward, her gloved fingers tangling gently in his hair. "Come on then. Mommy's here."
As Makoto's mouth closed over her, a gasp was torn from her throat. Her back arched while her hand tightened in his hair, holding him firmly in place. A shiver of pleasure ran through her. "Oh, fuck," she breathed, her eyes fluttering shut. "That's even better than I imagined."
"Your tits taste nice, Mommy," Makoto sucked and chewed on her soft and huge boobs, his hands kneading them. Ayane's hips gave an involuntary buck against the bed as his hands and mouth worked their magic. The gentle chewing sent a shiver through her. "Mmm, fuck… so good…" she breathed, her head tilting back.
"That's too bad, there's no milk left…" Makoto grinned. At his teasing remark, her eyes snapped open, and she let out a husky chuckle. "The milk bar is closed, sweetie. Asuka was a very greedy little customer."
Her gloved hand left his hair, sliding down her own body over the tight black fabric of the dress. Her fingers found the hem, slipped underneath, then moved higher, disappearing between her thighs. "But don't worry. Mommy has something else for you. Something just as sweet and a lot creamier."
She brought her fingers back up, slick and glistening with her own wetness. The scent of her arousal, musky and sweet, filled the air. She held her fingers right before his lips as an obscene offering. "Taste it! Mommy's special treat. Made just for you."
Makoto sucked on her fingers, his tongue a wet caress that sent a shiver through her. He tasted her own musky, salty arousal mixed with the faint, almost floral sweetness of her perfume. "It tastes musky and salty, Mommy," he returned to her boobs, closing his eyes and continuing the sucking.
"That's right. Learn and remember Mommy's taste." Her gloved hand cupped the back of his head to hold him in place. She leaned back slightly, settling into a comfortable cradle for him. She was completely in her element, the dominant but doting mother figure with a degenerate streak.
"Please, can you rub me down there..." Makoto groaned.
"So needy," Ayane said warmly with a satisfied smile on her face. "But Mommy loves taking care of her big baby." Her other hand, still slick with her own fluids, traveled down his body. The cool, smooth leather of her glove was a stark contrast against his warm skin.
Her touch was confident, like an assassin finding her target. Her fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, already hard and leaking. The combination of leather, her slickness, and her firm grip was exquisite torture.
"Oh, look at this! You've gotten so big and hard for Mommy." Her thumb slid up the length of him, smearing her wetness over his throbbing head. She began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate but devastatingly effective.
"Is this what you wanted?" she said, leaning down to whisper directly into his ear. "Does that feel good? Tell Mommy what a good boy you are."
"It feels fucking good." Makot's cock started throbbing as his mouth and teeth closed on her boobs. "Do it harder until I can't hold back, Mommy Ayane!"
A dark chuckle rumbled in her chest. "So you remember my name after all. Good. I want you to scream it when you cum!" Her grip tightened, her gloved fist enveloping him completely.
The rhythm changed instantly, from a slow, teasing stroke to a hard and punishing milking motion. The slick leather slid over his sensitive skin, driving him closer to the edge with every powerful pump.
Her other hand came up from his head, her fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder, holding him down, pinning him in her lap. She leaned over him, her huge breasts pressing against his face, her own breathing becoming ragged and shallow. "Look at you! Twitching in my lap. You're so close, aren't you?"
Makoto's body started to convulse, making a desperate, uncontrolled bucking against her relentless hand. His teeth clamped down on her nipple.
"That's it," Ayane hissed, her pace quickening even more, merciless and furious. "Come on. Give it to Mommy. Give it all to me!"
Then, a roar was torn from Makoto's throat as his orgasm ripped through him. He came hard, his body bucking violently as he flooded her gloved hand with his hot, thick seed.
Ayane didn't stop. She kept stroking him, milking every last drop until he was a boneless, trembling, spent mess in her lap.
Finally, she stilled. Her chest was heaving with a sated smile on her face. She looked down at her gloved hand, covered in his semen, then back at him, his face still buried in her breasts. "Good boy, Makoto. You did well."
She brought her messy, gloved hand up to his lips. "Now," she said, her voice low and commanding. "Clean yourself up!"