The first light of morning crept through the paper screens, and Chichi was already awake. She lay still for a moment beneath the thin sheet, listening to the birds, feeling the heavy ache low in her belly that had become as familiar as her own heartbeat. Then she swung her legs out of bed and went to the kitchen, because that was what mothers did — they got up, and they fed their children, and they pretended their bodies weren't slowly starving.
She put water on to boil. She set out the rice. Her hands knew the work so well that her mind was free to wander, and it wandered, as it always did, to the same place.
Goku.
It had been years. Years of training, years of other worlds, years of other gods and other fights. He was alive, and he loved her, and he was *gone* — and a woman of thirty-seven could only keep herself busy for so long before the loneliness turned physical. So every night, after the boys were asleep, Chichi had taken to her bed with a small pink vibrator and a smooth silicone dildo, and she had chased relief until her thighs trembled.
But it wasn't the same.
A toy throbbed on command and never tired, and that was something. But it didn't *breathe.* It didn't grunt. It didn't roll over afterward and pull her against its chest. Chichi had started to think she'd forgotten what a real man's weight felt like.
"Mom?"
She turned. Goten stood in the doorway, yawning, rubbing his eyes with the back of his fist. Seven years old and still soft with sleep, hair sticking up in every direction.
"Good morning, baby," she said, and her voice caught on something.
Because looking at him — the shape of his jaw, the way his mouth hung open, the way he blinked slowly awake — was like looking at a photograph of Goku at that age. He even moved like him. And when he sat down and reached for the toast with both hands, ready to eat his way through half a loaf, Chichi felt her stomach flip.
*He probably eats like his father, too,* she thought. *He probably—*
She blushed and looked away.
"What's wrong, Mom?" Goten asked, jam on his cheek.
"Nothing. Eat."
Gohan came down next, already in his school clothes, tall and broad and so serious for eighteen. He'd inherited her discipline and his father's strength, and he looked at her with those calm eyes like he could see straight through her.
"Morning, Mom."
"Morning, sweetheart." She set his bowl down. "Eat fast, you'll be late."
Breakfast passed in its usual rhythm — Goten shoveling food, Gohan reading a book while he ate, Chichi refilling bowls and fussing. And then Gohan was out the door with his bag over his shoulder, and the house went quiet.
Just her and Goten.
Just the little one who looked too much like his father.
---
She took her basket to the garden to pick vegetables for lunch. Radishes, carrots, cucumbers — she pulled them one by one and shook the soil off, and her mind ran loose.
*A seven-year-old son,* she thought. *An eighteen-year-old son. And a mother with a body that hasn't been touched in years.*
She looked down at herself. Her figure was still good — better than good, honestly. Her breasts were heavy and full, her waist still narrow, her hips round and wide from two births. She'd kept herself strong with work and training. A woman could do worse at thirty-seven.
*But what kind of mother thinks about her own sons that way?*
She carried the basket inside and cooked. Then, when the pots were simmering and Goten was playing quietly, Chichi decided she deserved something small.
She deserved a bath.
---
She went to the bathroom and undressed, letting her clothes fall to the floor. Her breasts swung free, heavy and soft, and she cupped one absently, thumb brushing her nipple. Then she wrapped a white towel around herself and pushed open the door—
—and froze.
Steam curled through the room. And in the tub, up to his chin in hot water, sat Goten. His eyes went wide, and then wider, and then wider still, because Chichi's towel had slipped as she pushed the door open and now hung only from one hip, leaving both breasts bare.
He was staring. Not at her face. Not at the wall.
At her chest.
And Chichi, following his gaze downward to make sure the towel was still on, happened to look at *him* — and her eyes landed somewhere else entirely.
Because Goten had stood up, and he was very clearly *not* a baby anymore.
"Go—Goten!" she stammered. "You didn't tell me you were going to take a bath!"
"I did tell you," he said, blushing furiously. "You were just… thinking about something."
She scrambled to pull the towel up, but it only made things worse — the motion squashed her breasts together and lifted them, and Goten's eyes dropped straight back down to them.
*Oh,* she thought. *Oh no.*
Her son's penis was small, of course. He was seven. But it was *there,* and it was stiff and standing, and it was pointed right at her, and something about that made her whole body go warm.
She should leave. She should dress. She should—
"Goten," she heard herself say, "do you mind if I join you?"
He blinked. "N-no problem, Mom."
*You should not do this,* she thought as she stepped out of the towel and climbed into the tub beside him. *You are about to complicate your life.*
And then her hand moved.
---
She reached down under the water and closed her fingers around him.
Goten jolted like he'd been shocked. "M-Mom?!"
"It's okay," she said, and her voice had gone low and soft, the voice she used when she wanted to be obeyed. She stroked him slowly. He was warm and small and impossibly hard, and it was *thrilling.* "Does that feel good?"
"Yes—" he squeaked. "Yes, it—"
"You know what this means, don't you?"
Goten shook his head fast.
"Then it's time your mom taught you." She turned him around so his back pressed to her chest — so his head rested between her breasts, so his bare shoulders leaned into her softness — and she kept stroking him with one hand while the other pulled him close. "This is called *sex*, Goten. You're going to have sex with Mommy."
"Sex?" he breathed.
"Yes. And it's going to be our secret."
She stood, dripping, and took him by the hand. He followed her to the bedroom without a word, and she didn't bother with a towel.
---
She sat him down on the edge of the bed, and she knelt in front of him, and she took his little penis in her mouth.
Goten gasped so loud the whole house heard it. "*Ohh—Mommy—*"
Chichi hummed around him and worked her tongue. He was small enough that she could take all of him easily, so she did — over and over, bobbing down until her lips pressed to his skin, then pulling back slow. He tasted like soap and boy. His hands came up and grabbed her hair, and his hips twitched.
"Mommy, it—it feels weird—"
"Weird good?"
"Weird *good*—"
She pulled off with a wet sound and looked up at him, lips shining. "Good. Now lie back."
He scrambled backward onto the bed, and she climbed up over him, thighs spread on either side of his hips. She took him in her hand, lined him up against herself, and — looking him right in the eye the whole time — began to sink down.
"*Aah!*" Goten cried as her warmth swallowed him.
Chichi shuddered. It wasn't the size of a man, but *God,* it was real. It was flesh and heat and pulse, and it pressed up into her from an angle no toy had ever managed, and her body, starved for so long, gripped it greedily.
"Relax, baby," she whispered. "Let Mommy move."
And she began to ride him.
Slow at first, rolling her hips, letting him feel every inch of her. Then faster. Her breasts swung with the motion, and Goten stared up at them like they were the moon and the sun. She took his little hands and put them on her chest, and he squeezed, and the sound he made was almost reverent.
"You like that?" she purred.
"Yes—yes—!"
"Good boy."
The pace picked up. The mattress creaked. Chichi felt her own heat building — she hadn't been filled like this in so long that her body had forgotten how good it was, and now it remembered all at once. She rubbed her clit against his pelvis on every stroke and moaned without shame.
"Ah—ah—Goten—right there—"
Suddenly Goten surged up, rolled them over, and landed on top of her with his face buried in her cleavage.
"*Oh—*" Chichi laughed, breathless. "You—"
He latched onto her right nipple and sucked like a starving thing, and squeezed the other breast hard in his little fist, and *pounded* into her — a child's clumsy rhythm, but relentless, and it was working. It was really working.
"Goten—yes—yes, honey, just like that—"
She reached down between them and pressed her fingers to herself. Then, on an impulse, she slid one finger lower, and pressed it into her own backside.
Her eyes went wide. It was tight, strange, *full* — and she liked it far more than she expected. She ground her finger in time with Goten's thrusts, and the doubled sensation rolled up her spine like electricity.
*Goku and I never did that,* she thought dizzily. *I want to try it. With someone. Someday.*
"Mommy," Goten panted, red-faced, "something's—it feels like something's gonna come out—"
"That's it, baby," she gasped. "You're going to cum. Don't stop. Cum inside Mommy."
He kissed her.
He just *lunged* forward and kissed her on the mouth, clumsy and wet and desperate, and Chichi's heart turned over. She kissed him back, holding his little face, and felt his hips stutter and shake.
Then he came.
Warmth flooded into her, deep and full, and Goten collapsed onto her chest with a long, shuddering sigh. Chichi lay there stroking his hair, staring at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat against her own.
*What have I done,* she thought.
Then she looked at the clock and yelped. Gohan would be home soon.
---
She dressed him, tucked him into his bed for a nap, and went to the kitchen to start dinner. Her body still hummed. Her thighs were slick. She had to press her legs together just to stop thinking about it.
Then she heard footsteps on the stairs.
A small figure appeared in the doorway.
"Honey?" Chichi said, setting down the knife. "How do you feel?"
"O…okay," Goten said. Then, blushing furiously: "Can we do it again sometime?"
Chichi's heart stuttered. She'd expected embarrassment. She'd expected him to be confused.
She had not expected *enthusiasm.*
"You really want to?"
"Yes!" he said at once. "I really liked having sex with Mom."
"Okay," she said, and her voice came out much steadier than she felt. "But we keep it a secret."
"Even Gohan?"
"Even your brother."
Goten nodded like a soldier. And Chichi turned back to her cutting board, and she was smiling, and she was already wondering when.
---
*[ — three thousand words in — ]*
---
The answer came sooner than she expected.
Two days later, Gohan had stayed late at a friend's house, and Goten had looked at her across the dinner table with those big dark eyes, and Chichi had barely gotten the dishes in the sink before she was leading him back to her room again. This time there was no bath, no slow teaching — just hunger. She'd laid him on the bed, climbed on top, and they'd gone at it like they'd been doing it for years.
Which was exactly the state Krillin walked in on.
He'd been invited to dinner that weekend, but he'd decided to come early, and the front door was unlocked, and nobody had thought to check — so he let himself in, wandered toward the kitchen, found it empty, followed the sounds, and pushed open the bedroom door.
And there was Chichi, thirty-seven years old, naked on top of her seven-year-old son, riding him like the world was ending.
Krillin stood in the doorway.
Chichi froze mid-thrust.
Goten looked over her shoulder, went scarlet, and whispered, "Mom?"
"…Krillin," Chichi said.
"Hi," he said.
Neither of them moved.
"…How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," Krillin said slowly, "to see everything."
Chichi's brain short-circuited. She grabbed the sheet and yanked it up over her chest, but Goten was still inside her, and the motion just made it worse.
"Krillin," she said, and her voice cracked into a panic, "don't tell anyone. *Please.* Not Gohan, not Eighteen, not anybody. Just—just have sex with me. Right now. Just once. So it doesn't feel like I'm going crazy alone."
Krillin's eyebrows climbed his bald head.
"Just once," he repeated.
"Just once," she said.
He reached out, took her by the waist, and hauled her off the bed — she felt his hands close on her like iron, and remembered, dimly, that this small bald man had once punched a hole through a mountain. "Chichi," he said, "with me, it's never just once."
And he kissed her.
It wasn't Goten's soft, shy kiss. It was a *man's* kiss — hard and hungry and certain, tongue and teeth, the kiss of someone who knew exactly what a woman was for. Chichi moaned into it before she could stop herself, and her knees actually gave.
Goten stared from the bed, wide-eyed.
"Kid," Krillin said without looking at him, "you're gonna want to watch this."
---
He pushed her back onto the mattress and took her dress off in one pull. Her bra followed. He sat back and just *looked* at her — heavy breasts, soft belly, dark hair between her legs — and shook his head slowly.
"God. Goku's an idiot."
"Krillin—"
"He leaves *this* at home for years?" He kissed down her throat. "Unbelievable."
His mouth closed over her nipple and he *bit,* and Chichi cried out, arching off the bed. He was rough where Goten was soft, sure where Goten was clumsy — one hand kneading her other breast hard, his mouth sucking until she was red and aching.
"Ah—ahh—Krillin—"
"That's it," he growled against her skin. "Let me hear it. The kid already knows what you sound like."
"How did you—"
"Lucky guess."
He slid down her body and shoved her thighs apart. She was already dripping — embarrassingly wet, soaked from the second he kissed her. Krillin looked at her and laughed.
"Look at that. You've been *starving,* huh."
"Shut up and—"
He buried his face in her.
Chichi *screamed.*
His tongue was relentless — flat and rough over her clit, then curling inside her, then up again, then two thick fingers shoved in without warning. She bucked and twisted, but his other hand pinned her hip to the mattress with that impossible strength, and she couldn't escape the pleasure if she tried.
"Ah! Ah! Right there—right there—*there*—"
He crooked his fingers, found the spot, and pressed.
Chichi came so hard she saw white. "*Ooooh—Goku—!*"
Krillin pulled back and wiped his mouth. "Did you just call me Goku?"
"Old habit!"
"Habit." He crawled up over her and she felt the blunt, heavy weight of him against her thigh. "Let's see if you still remember his name after this."
And then he was inside her.
Not gently. In one brutal thrust, all the way, bottoming out against her deepest wall.
Chichi's back arched clean off the bed. "*AAAAH—!*"
Because he was *deep.* Deeper than the toys. Deeper than Goku. Deeper than anything had ever been inside her. He was a small man, but he was *built* like a tank, and every inch of him drove in until she swore she could feel him in her ribs — and then he kept pressing, pushing past where she thought the end was, and she felt her whole body *stretch* around him.
"Feel that?" he snarled. "Feel how deep I am?"
"Yes—yes—!"
"Nobody's ever been that deep in you, have they? Not him. Not the toys. *Nobody.*"
"Nn—no—!"
"Say it."
"*Nobody*—!" she sobbed. "Nobody's ever been this deep—!"
Krillin laughed, low and mean, and started to move.
And it was *brutal.*
He fucked like he fought — no wasted motion, every thrust aimed and timed, hips slamming against hers with a wet crack that echoed off the walls. He grabbed her ankles and pushed her knees to her chest so he could get even deeper, and Chichi felt him hit places that made her vision swim.
"Ahh! Ahh! Krillin—too deep—you're too deep—"
"Too deep?" He grinned. "You said nobody reaches. I'm gonna reach where your husband never even *looked.*"
"*Ooooh—!*"
"Look at you. Sloppy. Wet. A mother of two, getting railed on her own bed by her husband's best friend while her son watches." He glanced at Goten, who was sitting cross-legged on the corner of the mattress, mouth open. "You enjoying the show, kid?"
"Y-yes," Goten whispered.
"Your mom's a *wild* one. Did you know that?"
"I—"
"She's a dirty girl," Krillin said, and thrust hard on the word. "*Dirty.* Say it, Chichi."
"I'm—ah—I'm a dirty girl—!"
"That's right." He dropped her legs and flipped her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up so her ass pressed back against him, then drove back in from behind. "And you've got a *great* ass. Did you know that? Been hiding this under aprons for twenty years."
Chichi could only moan into the pillow.
"Goten," Krillin said, breathing hard. "Come here."
The boy crawled closer.
"See that?" Krillin nodded down at where his body met Chichi's. "That's what it's supposed to look like. Watch close."
And then — mid-thrust — Krillin pulled out, spread her cheeks, and pressed the head of his cock against her other entrance.
"Krillin—" Chichi gasped. "Wait, I've never—"
"Then it's time."
He pushed in.
Chichi's eyes flew wide. "*AAAHHH—!*"
It was tight, so *tight,* and full in a way she had no words for — he worked his hips in slow circles and sank deeper and deeper until he was buried to the base in her ass, and Chichi clawed at the sheets and panted like she'd run a mile.
"God," Krillin groaned. "Tight as a fist. You've been saving this for me, haven't you?"
"*Yes—!*"
"Goten." Krillin snapped his fingers. "Get up here. Front."
Goten scrambled onto the bed. Krillin pulled Chichi up onto all fours, and then — guiding the boy with one hand — pressed Goten's little penis against her dripping, freshly-fucked pussy.
"Push, kid."
Goten pushed.
And now she had *both* of them.
Chichi screamed into the mattress as her son slid into her cunt while Krillin stayed buried in her ass — two cocks, one above the other, separated by only a thin wall of flesh, moving against each other inside her.
"Ah—ah—ah—both—both of you—!"
"Feel that?" Krillin grunted, driving in. "Feel him through me? That's what being full means, Chichi. That's what a woman's *for.*"
"Ooooh—!"
"Fuck her, kid. Don't be shy. She likes it."
Goten, red-faced and determined, grabbed her hips and started thrusting, and Krillin timed his own rhythm against the boy's, so that when Goten pulled out Krillin pushed in — an endless alternating roll that had Chichi's mind dissolving into pure noise.
"Mommy—" Goten panted. "Mommy, it's so tight—"
"You're sharing her, kid. That's why." Krillin laughed. "Good, isn't it?"
"Y-yes—!"
"Then don't stop."
And they didn't.
Krillin reached around and worked her clit with two fingers while he fucked her ass, and Goten pounded her from the front, and Chichi's whole body wound tighter and tighter until she was babbling — half words, half moans, Krillin's name and Goten's name and *God* and nothing at all.
"Close?" Krillin growled.
"Yes—yes—*please*—"
"Then cum for me. Cum on your son's cock while I'm in your ass. Show him what his mom looks like when she loses it."
That did it.
Chichi came like a snapped wire — convulsing, wailing, gripping the sheets so hard they tore. Her inner walls clenched down on Goten and her ass clamped on Krillin, and she heard both of them groan.
"*That's it,*" Krillin hissed. "*That's it, milk him, milk him—*"
Goten came a second later, whimpering, pumping into her with everything he had. And the moment he did, Krillin pulled out of her ass, shoved straight back into her pussy on top of the mess, and fucked her raw and fast — three strokes, four — until he buried himself and emptied deep inside her.
Chichi collapsed flat onto the mattress. Krillin fell over her, breathing hard. Goten flopped down beside them, chest heaving.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then Krillin lifted his head and said, "So. Just once, huh?"
Chichi started to laugh. She couldn't stop. She laughed until tears ran down her face, and Krillin laughed with her, and even Goten, confused but happy, giggled along.
They cleaned up. They got dressed. Chichi fixed her hair, scrubbed her face, and by the time Gohan walked in the door, there was rice on the table and nothing on the surface to suggest anything at all.
"I'm back," Gohan called.
"Hi, sweetheart," Chichi said, calm as a lake. "How was school?"
"Fine." Gohan dropped his bag. "What did you two do today?"
"It's a secret," Goten said, beaming.
Gohan raised an eyebrow. "Secret?"
Chichi reached over and covered Goten's mouth — and in doing so pressed her chest against his shoulder, which made Gohan's eyes drift, and then linger, and then drop somewhere they probably shouldn't have. Chichi noticed. She felt a small, wicked warmth spread through her.
Not just Goten, she thought. Maybe Gohan too, someday.
"Yes," she said sweetly. "A secret."
Then Gohan frowned. "Wait — Krillin? What are you doing here?"
Krillin, sitting at the table with a beer like he owned the place, shrugged. "Your mom invited me for dinner. And, uh — I'm gonna crash here for a few weeks. Got some stuff to sort out. She said it was fine."
Gohan looked at his mother. Chichi smiled and said nothing.
After this sex in daily basis Krillin did have to his house every evening after dinner, he'd fly off to Kame House, where Eighteen and Marron lived. And he'd find his wife, and he'd take her to bed, and he'd fuck her with the exact same brutal, bottoming-out rhythm he'd just given Chichi — so thoroughly that Eighteen would limp out of the bedroom the next morning, cursing him under her breath and smiling.
And sometimes, when he was done with Eighteen, he'd sit Marron down on the couch and explain things. This is what grown-ups do, sweetheart. Don't be scared. And then he'd show her, slow and gentle, the way Chichi had shown Goten. And Eighteen would stand in the doorway with a cup of coffee, watching her husband fuck their daughter, and she'd take a long sip and think, Well. At least the kid's learning from someone with experience.
And then Krillin would fly back to Chichi's house, land quietly on the roof, and slip in through the window — and there would be Chichi and goten, waiting, and the three of them would pick up exactly where they'd left off.
A secret, they'd agreed.
Even Gohan.
It would continue.