(And Auntie Jill Plots in the Shadows)
Ethan woke up inside a cocoon of bronze muscle and warm milk.
Chun-Li had not let go of him once since the kick-off ended twenty-four hours ago.
She had carried him into the house still impaled on her, thighs locked like steel cables, and simply never stopped. They had fucked on every surface: kitchen counter, couch, shower wall, the hood of Samus's Humvee. Every time Ethan passed out from overstimulation, he woke up again to those golden eyes staring down at him, soft and adoring, while her legendary legs squeezed another orgasm out of him.
Now it was Sunday morning.
Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, catching on the white silk ribbons in her ox-horn buns. She sat cross-legged on the bed (an impossible feat for any normal human with thighs that thick), cradling Ethan in her lap like he weighed nothing. One arm supported his back; the other gently guided his mouth to a leaking nipple.
"Drink, baby," she murmured, voice velvet and thunder. "Mommy's milk is full of apologies and love."
Ethan obeyed without thinking. The taste was sweet, creamy, addictive (like warm vanilla and pure devotion). Every swallow sent liquid heat straight to his cock, which was currently buried inside her again, her thighs keeping him seated deep.
Chun-Li hummed happily, rocking him, buns bobbing with every tiny movement.
"Good boy," she praised. "Mommy's perfect little man."
She had already:
Made him breakfast in bed (heart-shaped pancakes served on her tits, syrup drizzled directly from her nipples).Brushed his teeth while he sat on her lap, thighs squeezing rhythmically to keep him hard.Carried him to the bathroom, washed every inch of him with her tongue, then dried him by pressing him between her breasts.Redecorated his entire room overnight: walls now sky-blue silk, a custom bed shaped like her qipao ox-horns, a ceiling mirror positioned perfectly so he could watch her ride him from every angle.
And she never stopped talking (soft, constant, worshipful).
"I'm sorry for every time I tripped you in the hallway, baby.
I'm sorry for every name I called you.
I'm sorry I didn't drop to my knees and beg to be your Mommy sooner."
Each apology was punctuated by a slow roll of her hips or a gentle flex of those world-ending thighs.
Ethan was drowning in love.
Across the house, Auntie Jill was not taking defeat well.
She stood in the basement (the former laundry room now converted into a war room), surrounded by whiteboards covered in red yarn and photos of Chun-Li's ass with bullseyes drawn on them.
Lara, Tifa, and Samus sat at a folding table, looking terrified.
Jill paced, tactical skirt swishing, milk dripping from her nipples in furious little splats.
"She thinks thunder thighs make her Mommy Supreme?" Jill hissed. "I carried him for nine months. I have stretch marks older than her entire fighting career."
Lara raised a cautious hand. "To be fair, she did make him cum five times in one bounce cycle—"
Jill spun, eyes blazing. "We are launching Operation Maternal Reclamation tonight."
She slapped a blueprint onto the table.
Phase 1: Seduction overload (Jill would wear the original S.T.A.R.S. uniform from 1998, complete with the beret and the skirt that barely covered anything back then).
Phase 2: Milk war (Tifa on standby to flood the house with competing lactation).
Phase 3: Orbital strike (Samus had already hacked a weather satellite to rain strawberry-scented lube over the backyard at midnight).
Tifa raised a trembling finger. "Are we… allowed to wage psychological warfare on another Mommy?"
Jill's smile was terrifying.
"Watch me."
Back upstairs, Chun-Li had moved Ethan to the living room couch.
She sat with him straddling her lap, facing her, cock buried to the hilt while she gently bounced him using only her thighs (no hands, no hips, just pure leg strength). Every upward thrust lifted him a full foot off the cushion; every downward drop slammed him balls-deep.
"Mommy's got you," she cooed, kissing his tears away. "Mommy always will."
She reached behind her back and produced a tiny velvet box.
Inside: a golden anklet with a thunderbolt charm and the words MOMMY'S BOY engraved on the inside.
"Permanent," she whispered, fastening it around his ankle. "So everyone knows who you belong to."
Ethan whimpered (overwhelmed, ruined, happier than he'd ever been).
Chun-Li smiled (soft, radiant, victorious).
"That's it, baby. Let Mommy love you until your brain melts. Let Mommy erase every bad memory with these thighs."
Down in the basement, Jill loaded a custom Desert Eagle with hollow-point rounds filled with extra-thick maternal milk.
"Tonight," she whispered to her terrified co-conspirators, "we take our baby back."
Upstairs, Chun-Li flexed once (just once), and Ethan came so hard he blacked out, face buried in her tits, her voice the last thing he heard:
"Mommy's got the strongest legs in the world, sweetheart.
And they're wrapped around you forever."
The war for Ethan's heart (and cock) had a new reigning champion.
And she wasn't giving up the title without a fight that would literally shake the planet.
Mommy Chun-Li had won.
For now.