The glow from the signed contract had barely faded when the bedroom door flew open so hard it cracked off the hinges.
Ethan's mom stood there in a bathrobe, hair in curlers, wielding a rolled-up newspaper like a sword.
"ETHAN JAMES HARPER," she bellowed, "and you three… whatever you are! GET UP RIGHT NOW!"
For the first time in days, Lara, Tifa, and Samus froze mid-moan.
Ethan's mom had never raised her voice once in eighteen years. Now she looked ready to fight God.
She slapped the newspaper onto the bed. The headline screamed in bold:
FBI, STATE DEPARTMENT, AND LOCAL SCHOOL BOARD ISSUE EMERGENCY STATEMENT:
"WESTVIEW HIGH REMAINS OPEN. NO PRIVATE ISLANDS PURCHASED. NO ORBITAL WEAPONS DETECTED. CEASE ALL ILLEGAL ACTIVITY."
Underneath, in smaller print:
"Mrs. Harper is very disappointed in her son."
Lara sat up first, tits still glistening with milk and cum. "This is clearly fake news—"
"It's the front page of the actual newspaper, Lara," Ethan's mom snapped. "Printed on actual paper. With ink. That I bought at the actual gas station."
Tifa tried a sweet smile. "Ma'am, we just want Ethan to be happy—"
"Happy does not mean blowing up the federal budget or declaring sovereignty over Fiji!" She turned to Samus. "And you, young lady in the latex fetish suit—NASA called. They want to know why you tried to hijack the International Space Station with a dildo cannon."
Samus actually looked sheepish. "It was only a prototype…"
Ethan's mom pinched the bridge of her nose. "School starts in forty-five minutes. The principal called personally. If Ethan is absent one more day, the truancy officer comes. And apparently the FBI is now monitoring our house because someone (she glared at Lara) tried to wire three billion dollars to the country of Fiji from Ethan's college fund."
Lara opened her mouth.
"That was MY money," she protested.
"You used Ethan's social security number!"
Silence.
Ethan, still half-buried under three goddesses, raised a trembling hand. "So… we have to go to school? Like… normal school?"
His mom's expression softened for exactly one second. "Yes, baby. Normal school. With homework. And rules. And no orbital death rays."
She turned on her heel. "Forty-five minutes. Clothes that cover nipples. All of you."
The door slammed.
For five full seconds nobody moved.
Then Lara hissed, "This is tyranny."
Tifa started crying milky tears. "But I already canceled the nursery architect!"
Samus just looked murderous. "I still have the launch codes…"
Ethan sat up, sticky, sore, and—for the first time in a week—completely in charge.
"No," he said, voice small but firm. "We're going. Normal day. Normal clothes. Normal… everything."
Three pairs of devastated, lovesick eyes stared at him.
Lara recovered first. "Fine," she said, standing with regal dignity despite being completely naked and dripping. "But we're doing normal our way."
Cut to thirty-eight minutes later.
They were technically dressed.
Lara wore the school uniform skirt (shortened to the legal limit and then some), a white button-up tied under her tits, thigh holster visible. She'd replaced the school crest with a tiny embroidered "Ethan's Property."
Tifa had squeezed into a regulation blouse that now looked vacuum-sealed around her leaking chest, milk already forming two perfect wet circles. She carried a pink thermos labeled "Emergency Emotional Support Milk."
Samus… had tried. The Zero Suit had shapeshifted into the closest approximation of a Westview High uniform it could manage: a blue pleated skirt the size of a belt, a cropped blazer that covered exactly none of her tits, and knee-high boots. The Paralyzer was now disguised as a very suspicious-looking hall pass.
Ethan wore his normal jeans and hoodie and looked like a hostage.
They stepped outside.
The street was lined with news vans, SWAT snipers on rooftops, and a single very tired-looking truancy officer holding a clipboard.
Samus waved cheerfully. The officer waved back with a trembling hand.
At the school gates, the principal waited with a megaphone.
"Welcome back, Mr. Harper," he said, voice cracking. "We've made… accommodations."
The accommodations turned out to be:
A reinforced steel circle desk in every classroom large enough for four.A laminated sign on the door of every room Ethan entered: "DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH THE BODYGUARDS."The vending machines now dispensed only strawberry milk.
First period began.
Lara sat on Ethan's left, taking notes in perfect handwriting while idly tracing circles on his thigh.
Tifa sat on his right, quietly leaking into a sippy cup labeled "For Ethan Only ♡."
Samus stood behind them, arms crossed, scanning the room like a Secret Service agent who'd replaced her gun with breasts.
When the kid in front of Ethan dropped his pencil and it rolled toward Ethan's foot, Samus caught it mid-air, crushed it to splinters, and handed the kid a new one with a sweet smile.
The kid peed a little.
By lunch, the entire school had adapted.
Students now walked in single file, eyes down, reciting under their breath: "I am not a threat. I adore Ethan. I will not startle the girlfriends."
Ethan ate a sandwich Tifa had made (heart-shaped, filled with her own milk and Nutella) while the three goddesses stared at him with open, worshipful longing.
Lara leaned over and whispered, "This is temporary, baby. One day we'll own the planet. Today we just… humor them."
Tifa nodded, wiping a tear. "As long as you're safe and happy, Master."
Samus rested her chin on top of his head, tits draping over his shoulders like the world's most dangerous scarf.
"Normal is a suggestion," she murmured. "Love is mandatory."
Ethan looked around the cafeteria (at the trembling students, the news helicopters circling overhead, the FBI agent pretending to read a newspaper three tables away) and realized something.
His life would never be normal again.
But maybe, just maybe, he could survive one day at a time.
The bell rang.
Samus scooped him up without asking.
Normal, it turned out, was whatever they decided it was.
And today, normal meant Ethan was carried to fifth period bridal-style by a six-foot-seven bimbo bounty hunter while the entire school applauded politely and tried not to die.
Baby steps.