The second Tuesday after Panchy became permanent started with the quiet that always came before the noise.
Bulma finished the last diagnostic in her lab at 6:40 p.m. and shut everything down. She checked the senzu pouch twice, then once more. The arrangement was no longer a hidden valve. It was household fact. Her mother was on the list. That knowledge sat in her chest like a warm, heavy stone.
Panchy waited in the east-wing kitchen with a cup of tea she never touched. She had been wet since mid-afternoon. The guilt from the first night was quieter now. In its place was a low, constant ache and the knowledge that she would be used the same way her daughter was used. She kept looking at the clock.
Krillin arrived first, carrying a bag of take-out he set on the hallway table "in case anyone gets hungry later." Outside this room he was still the man who fixed broken drones and never raised his voice. Inside it the switch had already flipped. Goku came in grinning, already hard in his gi. Vegeta followed last, silent, eyes flat, cock already rigid.
They entered Bulma's bedroom together.
Panchy sat on the edge of the mattress in a thin robe, grey hair loose. Bulma was already naked, kneeling in the centre of the bed, blue hair tied back, eyes calm in the floating Tuesday quiet.
"You first," Bulma said to her mother. "Full. Then you."
Panchy only nodded.
---
Krillin pointed at the centre of the bed.
"On your back. Knees up."
Bulma obeyed.
He climbed between her legs, lined his cock against her already-slick cunt, and drove in to the root in one continuous, brutal stroke. The air left her lungs in a sharp cry. He did not pause. He set a hard, deep, piston rhythm immediately, hips slamming against hers hard enough that the headboard began its familiar knock against the wall.
"Fuck—Krillin—"
He leaned down, took her left breast into his mouth, and sucked hard. Milk beaded against his tongue. He drank it, swallowed, switched to the right breast, and kept fucking her without losing a single thrust. The wet slap of his hips against her filled the room.
Vegeta stood at the side of the bed, arms crossed, watching.
Krillin pulled off the nipple long enough to speak, voice low and even.
"Your wife is a full-time slut now, Vegeta. Look at how she opens. Look at how she leaks. Two years of this and she still acts like this cunt is the only thing she's good for."
Vegeta's jaw flexed. His cock twitched against his gi.
"She was always like this," he answered. "I simply stopped letting her pretend otherwise."
Krillin drove deeper, grinding against her cervix on every stroke. "Tonight this cunt gets filled until it takes. I'm putting a baby in you, Bulma. You hear me? You're going to carry it."
Bulma's eyes rolled. The floating quiet was already taking her. She pushed back into every thrust, taking him as deep as her body would allow.
Goku moved in behind her. He and Vegeta positioned themselves at her ass at the same time. Two thick heads pressed against the tight ring.
"Push out," Goku said, almost cheerful. "We've done this."
They pushed in together.
Bulma's scream tore out of her throat. The stretch was immediate and enormous. Two cocks forcing her open while Krillin kept pounding her pussy without mercy. The fullness was total. She clawed at the sheets. Milk leaked from both nipples in thin streams.
Panchy watched from the edge of the bed, robe open, fingers already inside herself, eyes wide and glassy.
Krillin never pulled her hair. His hands stayed locked on her hips, holding her steady while he fucked her like he intended to rearrange her insides. Every thrust forced her further onto the two cocks buried in her ass. The wet, filthy sounds of three shafts moving inside her at once filled the room.
"Look at her," Krillin said to Vegeta, still sucking milk from her breast between words. "Your wife. Taking three of us like a professional breeding hole. She's dripping. She's shaking. And she still wants more."
Bulma could only moan—high, continuous, broken.
They kept that rhythm for a long time. Krillin in her cunt, brutal and steady. Goku and Vegeta grinding against each other inside her ass, stretching her wider with every combined thrust. Panchy's fingers moved faster under the robe.
When Krillin decided to change it, he pulled out of her pussy with a wet sound. The other two pulled out of her ass. Bulma lay there panting, holes gaping, milk still beading on her nipples, cunt twitching around nothing.
"Experiment," Krillin said.
They lined up three thick heads against her entrance at once.
Bulma's eyes went wide. "Wait—that's—"
They pushed.
The stretch was beyond anything previous. Inch by inch the three cocks forced their way into her cunt together. Her scream went long and raw. The pressure was enormous. Her body tried to reject the invasion and failed. When they were as deep as anatomy allowed, all three buried inside one hole, Bulma's voice broke into pure continuous sound—moaning, sobbing, screaming every time they moved.
"Fuck, she's tight like this," Goku groaned.
"She's perfect like this," Krillin answered. He looked at Vegeta. "Your wife's a breeding slut. Look at her. Taking three cocks in one hole and still pushing back for more."
They fucked her like that—three shafts sharing her cunt, sliding against each other inside her, stretching her to the absolute limit. Bulma came hard, body locking, and they did not stop. They kept going until she was sobbing from overstimulation, milk leaking freely, cunt clenching desperately around the impossible fullness.
Krillin pulled out first when he was close. The other two followed. He flipped her flat, pushed back into her pussy alone, and fucked her with pure focused intensity—hard, deep, no mercy—until he buried himself to the hilt and came.
Hot, thick pulses flooded her. He kept thrusting through every spurt, forcing the load as deep as it would go.
Then he pulled out, moved up the bed, and pushed his still-spurting cock into her open mouth.
"Drink it all," he ordered, voice low and absolute. "Every drop. Don't waste what I just put in you."
Bulma's eyes watered. She swallowed. He kept feeding it to her until the last pulse was gone. She drank everything. Nothing spilled.
"Good girl," he said.
He looked at Panchy.
"Your turn."
---
Panchy had watched every second. Her robe was open. Her fingers were shiny. Her face was flushed dark.
Krillin gave her no time to think.
He dragged her to the centre of the bed, pushed her onto her back, and spread her legs. He was still hard. He lined up and drove into her cunt in one brutal stroke that forced a raw cry out of her.
"Same cunt," he muttered, already fucking her hard. "Same way it squeezes. You raised a perfect little slut and now you're one too."
Goku and Vegeta moved in. Same setup. Double penetration in her ass while Krillin stayed buried in her pussy. Panchy's scream was louder than Bulma's had been. Her hands scrambled. Bulma took one and held on.
Krillin leaned down and sucked on her breasts the same way—hard, possessive, teeth grazing—while his hips never stopped.
"Feel that?" he said against her skin. "That's three of us using you the same way we use her. You're not special. You're next."
The dirty talk from all three continued without pause.
Goku: "She's so warm. Tighter than last week. Keep squeezing, Panchy."
Vegeta: "Look at the mother. Same face as the daughter when she takes it deep. Pathetic. Perfect."
Krillin: "I'm going to fill this cunt the same way. Then you're going to drink every drop like she did. Understand?"
Panchy could only moan and nod, tears already leaking from the corners of her eyes.
They ran the triple-cock experiment on her next. All three forced into her pussy together. The stretch made her sob openly. The pressure made her vision white out. She came so hard her whole body convulsed, and they kept fucking her through it until she was incoherent, drooling, shaking.
When Krillin finished inside her he pulled out, moved up, and pushed into her mouth while still pulsing.
"Drink it all. Same as your daughter. Don't spill a drop."
Panchy swallowed. Tears ran down her temples into her hair. She drank everything.
---
They did not stop.
Both women were placed side by side on the ruined sheets. The three men rotated freely—one in each cunt, one in each ass, swapping without breaking rhythm. The room filled with the continuous wet sounds of brutal fucking and the broken, overlapping moans of two women who had stopped trying to form words.
Krillin moved between them with the same focused intensity. Outside this room he was the good man. Here he was the one who set the pace and decided when they were finished. He never pulled hair. His hands stayed firm on hips and thighs, holding them open, forcing them to take every inch.
Bulma and Panchy held hands the entire time.
The three men put both women through another full cycle of double and triple penetration until both were overflowing again, cunts and asses gaping and leaking, breasts marked, throats raw.
---
The door opened at 1:47 a.m.
Dr. Brief stood in the doorway in his travel coat, suitcase still in one hand. He had been pulled home early by a critical component failure. He was only supposed to be gone three more days.
The room froze for half a second.
Bulma was on her back with Krillin buried to the hilt in her cunt and Goku in her ass. Panchy was on all fours with Vegeta fucking her from behind while he watched the other pair. Cum was already leaking from both women in thick streams. The air smelled of sex, sweat, and milk.
Dr. Brief's face moved through shock, disbelief, and something uglier that looked like betrayal.
"What the hell—"
No one moved to cover up.
Krillin did not pull out. He simply looked over his shoulder, still deep inside Bulma, and said calmly, "You're early."
Dr. Brief's voice cracked. "That's my wife. That's my daughter."
Vegeta's lip curled. "And they've been ours every Tuesday for two years. You're late to the information."
The older man's eyes flicked between the two women—his wife wrecked and open, his daughter the same, both of them looking at him with glassy, fucked-out expressions instead of shame.
Something shifted in his face.
The anger stayed. Underneath it something hotter and more complicated began to wake. His eyes stayed on Panchy's open mouth, on the faint bite marks on Bulma's breasts, on the way both of them were still moving, still taking cock even while he stood there watching.
His own cock stirred in his trousers. Five inches. Average. Nothing compared to what was currently inside his wife and daughter.
He set the suitcase down slowly.
"…How long?" he asked, voice rough.
"Long enough," Bulma answered. Her voice was wrecked but clear. "Mom joined last week. Permanently."
Panchy looked at her husband. There was guilt there. There was also the same quiet Bulma had described—the quiet that only came after being used this hard.
"I needed it," she said simply. "Same as her."
Dr. Brief's throat worked. He watched Krillin start moving again inside Bulma, slow and deep, like the interruption had only been a pause. He watched his wife push back against Vegeta. He watched the way both women looked—not broken. Satisfied. Hungry for more.
The anger did not disappear. It mixed with something hotter.
He stepped further into the room.
"I'm staying," he said. "And I'm watching. And when you're done… I want a turn. With both of them."
Krillin glanced at him, still fucking Bulma with that steady, brutal rhythm.
"Your cock's small," he said, not unkindly. Just factual. "You'll go last. And you'll watch how real fucking looks first."
Dr. Brief's face flushed. But he nodded.
He pulled a chair to the side of the bed, sat down, and opened his trousers. Five inches. Already hard. He stroked slowly while he watched the three larger men continue using his wife and daughter without slowing down.
---
They finished the current round in both women—all three men taking turns in pussy and ass until both were overflowing again. Then they put Bulma and Panchy on their backs side by side and ran another full rotation while Dr. Brief watched every thrust, every stretch, every time one of them made his wife or daughter scream.
Krillin looked at him once while buried deep in Panchy and said, "This is what she needs. What both of them need. You can join or you can leave. But this doesn't stop."
Dr. Brief stayed.
When the three finally slowed, sweaty and spent for the moment, they gestured him forward.
He took his wife first. Five inches sliding into a cunt that had just taken far more. Panchy looked up at him with wet eyes and whispered his name like it was both apology and invitation. He fucked her with short, urgent strokes, watching her face the entire time, while Krillin and the others watched him in return.
Then he moved to Bulma.
His own daughter.
She was still open, still leaking, still in that floating quiet. She looked at him without shame and spread her legs wider.
"It's okay, Dad," she said softly. "You can."
He pushed in. The difference in size was obvious. She barely felt the stretch after what she had already taken. But the psychological weight of it hit both of them hard. He fucked her with the same desperate rhythm, eyes locked on her face, while the other three watched and occasionally added commentary.
"Look at that," Krillin said quietly. "Even her own father gets a turn now. Fully a slut. Whole family."
Vegeta just grunted, but his eyes stayed fixed on the scene.
Goku, ever straightforward, said, "She's still wet. She likes it."
Dr. Brief came quickly inside his daughter, short pulses that barely compared to the loads already inside her. He pulled out, breathing hard, and looked at both women—his wife and his daughter—covered, used, and calm in a way he had never seen before.
The anger was still there, low and complicated.
But the excitement was stronger.
He sat back in the chair, still half-hard, and watched as Krillin, Goku, and Vegeta started another round.
---
They kept going until the sky outside started to lighten.
By the time the last orgasm had been fucked out of both women, the bed was a complete disaster. Sheets soaked through. Bodies marked with fingerprints and bite marks and dried streaks of cum and milk. Dr. Brief had taken both of them twice more, always last, always smaller, always watching the contrast between what the three could do and what he could.
When it finally ended, no one spoke for a long time.
Bulma lay between her mother and the edge of the bed, staring at the ceiling the way she always did after. The quiet was back. Deeper this time.
Panchy reached across and took her hand again.
Dr. Brief sat in the chair, trousers still open, looking at the two of them like he was seeing them for the first time.
Krillin, already pulling his clothes back on, glanced at him.
"Same time next Tuesday," he said. Not a question. "You're on the list now. Rules are the same. You watch until we say otherwise. You go last. And you don't get to stop this."
Dr. Brief looked at his wife. At his daughter. At the three men who had just spent the night treating them like shared property and being thanked for it.
He nodded once.
"…Same time next Tuesday."
Outside the room, the house was still quiet.
Inside it, the arrangement had changed again.
And everyone in it knew there was no going back.
Days flew like a wind and finally next Tuesday comes.
Krillin closed the bedroom door at 9:12 p.m. and looked at the two women already naked on the bed.
Bulma sat with her back against the headboard, legs loosely open, the floating Tuesday quiet already in her eyes. Panchy sat beside her, grey hair loose, hands resting on her own thighs. Dr. Brief occupied the same chair from last week, trousers open, five inches already half-hard. Goku and Vegeta stood near the foot of the bed, waiting.
Krillin's voice was calm. The same voice he used when he fixed broken machines or helped with groceries.
"New rule tonight. You two direct. Every position, every hole, every load. But it has to be worse than last time. And the goal is simple." He looked at both of them in turn. "Both of you leave this house pregnant if the universe allows it. Every load stays inside. No one cleans up. No senzu unless someone is actually dying. You decide how filthy it gets. We just do what you say."
Bulma's tongue moved across her lower lip. The quiet in her head liked the shape of the order.
Panchy swallowed. Her voice came out thinner than she expected. "We… decide?"
"You decide," Krillin repeated. "And if you try to go soft, we take the control back and make it worse ourselves. Understand?"
Both women nodded.
Bulma spoke first. Her voice was already lower, already in the place where the company president disappeared.
"Bedroom first. Both of us on our backs, side by side. All three of you use our cunts until you've each cum inside at least once. No pulling out. Then we hold it in while we move."
Krillin's mouth curved. "Good start."
---
They arranged the women exactly as ordered.
Bulma and Panchy lay shoulder to shoulder, knees pulled back, cunts already wet and open. Krillin took Bulma first. He pushed in to the root in one stroke and began the hard, deep rhythm that made the headboard knock. Goku slid into Panchy at the same time. Vegeta waited, stroking, eyes moving between the two stretched holes.
Krillin fucked Bulma with focused intensity, hands locked on her hips, never pulling her hair. Every thrust bottomed out. He leaned down and spoke against her ear while his cock dragged along her walls.
"You're going to take every drop and keep it. I want this cunt full enough that it leaks down your thighs when you walk. You're going to carry whatever takes root. Say it."
"I'll keep it," Bulma whispered. "I'll carry it."
He came hard, grinding deep, flooding her. He stayed buried until the last pulse finished, then pulled out slowly so she and everyone else could see the thick white immediately trying to spill. Bulma's hand moved down and pressed two fingers over her entrance, holding it in.
Goku finished inside Panchy moments later with a low groan, hips pressed tight. Panchy made the same desperate motion with her own hand, cupping herself to keep the load from escaping.
Vegeta took Bulma next. He fucked her with the same cold precision he brought to everything, eyes on her face the entire time.
"Your father is watching you hold another man's cum inside you," he said flatly. "Look at him while I fill you."
Bulma turned her head and met Dr. Brief's eyes while Vegeta drove in hard and came. She kept her fingers pressed tight, trapping everything.
Vegeta moved to Panchy and repeated the process. When he finished, both women lay there with their hands locked over their cunts, breathing hard, already messy.
Bulma's voice was steady when she spoke again.
"Kitchen next. We walk there holding it in. If anything drips, you push it back in with your fingers or your cocks. Then you use us over the counter."
---
The walk through the house was slow and humiliating.
Bulma and Panchy moved carefully, thighs pressed together, hands still cupped between their legs. Small rivulets still escaped and ran down their inner thighs. Every time it happened, one of the men stopped them, pushed the leaking cum back inside with two thick fingers, and made them thank him.
Dr. Brief followed, five inches fully hard now, staring at the wet trails on the floor and on his wife's and daughter's skin.
The kitchen lights were bright. Clinical. Panchy used to make breakfast here. Now she was bent over the island with Krillin's cock already sliding back into her cum-filled cunt from behind.
Bulma was bent over beside her. Goku pushed into her in one stroke, forcing last load deeper.
"Keep it in," Bulma ordered, voice tight. "Both of you. Fuck it deeper. Don't let it run out."
They obeyed. The wet, filthy sounds of cocks churning already-full holes filled the bright kitchen. Cum was forced out around the shafts with every thrust and immediately pushed back in. Krillin reached around and rubbed Panchy's clit while he fucked her, making her clench and try to hold everything.
"You're going to drip all the way through this house," he muttered against her neck. "And every time you do, we put it back. By the end you'll be so full it'll take days to empty."
Vegeta took his turn in both women again, always finishing inside, always making them seal it with their hands afterward.
When the kitchen floor had several small white puddles that had been scooped up and forced back into them, Bulma gave the next order.
"Gravity chamber."
---
The chamber was cold and metallic. The control panel lights glowed softly.
They put both women on the floor on their hands and knees in the centre of the room. The men took them from behind in rotation, still focused on pumping more into already-stuffed cunts. Every time a load was added, the woman was ordered to crawl in a small circle while holding herself closed, letting gravity and movement try to force the cum out so the men could push it back in.
Dr. Brief was told to kneel in front of them and watch the overflow up close. When too much leaked, he was ordered to use his smaller cock to push it back inside his wife and then his daughter. The psychological weight of it showed on his face—shame and arousal tangled so tightly he looked sick with it.
Bulma's voice stayed clear even while she was being fucked.
"Study next. Dad's desk. Both of us bent over it. You three fill us again. Then he cleans the excess with his mouth before we move."
---
Dr. Brief's private study smelled like old paper and machine oil. Family photographs sat on the shelves. Blueprints of old capsules were pinned to the walls.
They cleared the desk with one sweep of Vegeta's arm. Papers fluttered to the floor. Bulma and Panchy were bent over the polished wood side by side, faces turned toward each other so they could not look away.
Krillin took Bulma. Goku took Panchy. They fucked them hard enough that the heavy desk scraped across the floor. Vegeta stood behind Dr. Brief and made him watch every detail while stroking the older man's smaller cock for him.
"This is your desk," Vegeta said quietly. "Your wife and your daughter are being bred on it. And you're going to lick up whatever spills."
When Krillin and Goku finished inside them, thick excess immediately began to drip down onto the remaining papers. Dr. Brief was pushed to his knees and ordered to clean it. He hesitated only a second before his tongue moved. The taste made his face twist. He did it anyway—first the desk, then the insides of both women's thighs, then carefully around the still-clenching holes while the women held themselves open for him.
Bulma looked down at her father while he worked and spoke in the same calm Tuesday voice.
"Lab next. Then we finish in the living room where anyone who came home early would see."
---
The private lab was all white surfaces and glass. Bulma's own designs covered the walls.
They used the women on the main workbench. Bulma directed the positions with short, precise commands: one woman on her back with legs forced wide, the other sitting on her face so they could taste each other while being fucked. The men added more loads. The breeding talk never stopped.
Krillin, buried in Bulma again, looked down at her and spoke while he thrust.
"Every load tonight stays in this cunt until morning. You're going to sleep full. You're going to wake up full. If anything takes root, you'll know exactly which night it happened."
Bulma's answer was a broken moan and a tighter clench around him.
Panchy received the same treatment and the same words. Mother and daughter were made to kiss with cum still in their mouths, passing the taste back and forth while the men watched and continued using them.
---
By the time they reached the living room the two women were visibly heavy with it. Their lower bellies had a slight, temporary swell from the volume. Cum ran down their legs in slow, thick lines no matter how carefully they tried to hold it. The men had stopped wiping anything. The floor of every room they had used carried small white evidence.
Bulma's final order of the night was simple and absolute.
"Couch. Both of us on our backs. You three finish whatever you have left inside us. Dad goes last in both. Then we stay like this until morning. No one cleans. No one helps us walk. We keep it in ourselves."
They obeyed.
The final round was slower only because the men had already cum multiple times. They still fucked with intent, still forced every drop as deep as possible. When they finished, both women lay on the wide living-room couch with their hands locked between their legs, breathing hard, bodies marked and used and full.
Dr. Brief took his turns last, short and urgent, pushing more of the overflowing mess deeper with his smaller cock before he too finished inside each of them. When he pulled out, he looked at the state of his wife and daughter and said nothing. The conflict on his face had settled into something quieter and more permanent.
Krillin stood over them, still naked, still calm.
"You directed well," he said. "Next week we might let you do it again. Or we might not. Either way, you stay full tonight. If you need to piss, you do it carefully and push everything back in afterward. Understand?"
Both women nodded. Their voices were gone. Only the quiet remained.
Outside the windows the sky had begun to lighten.
The house was stained in every room they had used. The arrangement had moved beyond the bedroom permanently. And both women lay on the couch in the centre of their own home, holding dozens of loads inside themselves by order and by choice, waiting to see what the morning would feel like when they finally tried to stand.
No one spoke for a long time.
There was nothing left that needed saying.