Soft morning sunlight filtered through pastel-yellow curtains, painting the room in warm gold.
Ethan Li, twenty years old, stirred beneath a mountain of fluffy blankets on his king-sized bed.
His pajamas were ridiculous (bright yellow Pikachu onesie, complete with little ears on the hood and a stitched lightning-bolt tail that flopped every time he moved).
He scratched his messy black hair, let out a long, lazy yawn that showed off perfect teeth, and blinked sleepily at the ceiling.
The bedroom door creaked open.
In walked his big sister, Mia Li, twenty-four, wearing the kind of "nightgown" that should be illegal before noon.
Silky black fabric, thin as a whisper, cut so low that half of her full, perfect breasts spilled over the neckline.
The hem barely brushed mid-thigh, riding up with every step to reveal smooth, toned legs and the neatly trimmed patch of dark hair between them (nothing underneath, of course).
Any normal guy would've choked on air.
Ethan didn't even twitch.
Not a single muscle.
His cock stayed perfectly, disappointingly calm beneath the Pikachu print.
He looked at her with the deadest pan expression known to mankind.
"…What?"
Mia's voice came out soft, almost respectful (completely at odds with the sinful outfit).
"Breakfast is ready, little brother."
She gave a tiny, polite bow (breasts swaying hypnotically), then turned and padded out, hips swaying like she was walking a runway instead of a hallway.
Ethan stared at the empty doorway for three full seconds.
Then flopped back onto the pillow with a long-suffering sigh.
"Another normal morning," he muttered to the ceiling. "Great."
Ethan dragged his Pikachu-clad self down the grand staircase like a man walking to his execution.
Each step made the little lightning tail on his onesie bounce.
He reached the living-room archway and stopped dead.
His older brother, Ryan Li (26, built like a gym god, shirtless, sweat glistening on tanned muscles), had their mother, Cassandra Li (39, absolute MILF legend), "pinned" face-down on the massive leather sectional.
Cassandra was in a tiny silk robe that had ridden up to her lower back, exposing long, perfect legs and the world's most dangerous curve of ass.
Ryan's strong hands worked deep into her shoulders, thumbs pressing out every knot with professional precision.
Cassandra let out a long, blissful moan, eyes half-closed, lips parted.
"Ahhh… right there, sweetheart… you're the best son a mother could ask for…"
Ethan just stared, face completely flat.
Then turned directly to the invisible audience (aka you perverts) and spoke in the most deadpan voice imaginable:
"When I said 'pinned her down,' what the fuck did you sickos think was happening?
It's a goddamn shoulder massage. Calm your filthy minds."
Ryan didn't even look up, just kept kneading.
"Morning, little bro. Mom threw her back out doing yoga again. Want pancakes?"
Cassandra waved lazily without opening her eyes.
"There's extra whipped cream, baby."
Ethan sighed so hard the Pikachu ears on his hood flopped.
Another totally normal morning in the Li house.
Ethan shuffled into the sun-lit living room, Pikachu onesie tail dragging behind him like a defeated flag.
Ryan was still giving Cassandra her morning back massage, hands working the knots out of her shoulders with professional precision.
Cassandra lay face-down on the sectional, silk robe riding high, completely relaxed.
Then it happened.
A tiny, unmistakable trickle appeared between her thighs, glistening on the leather cushion.
Ethan blinked once.
Ryan noticed at the exact same second.
Both brothers turned slowly toward the invisible audience (you degenerates) with the same flat, disappointed stare.
Ryan spoke first, voice completely deadpan:
"What the hell did you perverts just think was happening?
She sneezed. That's all."
Ethan nodded in perfect sync.
"Yeah. Mom sneezed. Stop being weird."
Cassandra lifted her head, cheeks pink, realizing the little wet spot.
"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, sweeties! Must've relaxed too much."
She hopped up, robe fluttering, and scurried toward the bathroom.
"Be right back! Don't eat all the pancakes!"
Door clicked shut.
Ethan turned to Ryan, who was now stretching, shirtless, abs looking like they were carved by a Greek god with too much free time.
"Bro. Put a shirt on. You look like a porn star."
Ryan didn't even blink.
"I am a porn star, little brother.
Professionally. Top 0.1% on three sites.
I've seen so many pussies I'm honestly kind of over it."
Ethan stared for three full seconds.
Then flopped face-first onto the couch like a dead fish, Pikachu hood flopping over his eyes.
"Whatever, bro."
From the bathroom, Cassandra's cheerful voice echoed:
"Extra whipped cream for my favorite boys!"
Just another totally normal morning in the Li household.
Inside the marble bathroom, steam still rising from the shower
Cassandra Li stood in front of the full-length mirror, silk robe hanging open, face buried in both hands.
"Shit—shit—did I seriously just cum because my own son gave me a back massage?!"
Her cheeks burned crimson.
She paced in tiny circles, muttering to herself like a woman negotiating with her ancestors.
A few minutes later she took a deep breath, straightened up, and turned directly to the invisible audience with the most dignified expression a half-naked MILF could muster.
"Let me make one thing perfectly clear.
I am NOT some degenerate slut.
My son is simply a professional-level masseur who happens to know exactly where a woman's tension points are.
It was an accident. A biological reflex. That's all."
She nodded once, satisfied with her defense, and started washing her thighs with a warm cloth.
Door opened without a knock.
Ethan shuffled in, still in the Pikachu onesie, eyes half-closed, clearly functioning on 3 % battery.
He walked straight to the toilet, pulled down the front zipper, and let loose a perfectly normal morning stream.
His cock (big, thick, and apparently immune to morning shame) just… existed.
Cassandra froze mid-wipe.
Her eyes involuntarily locked on.
A fresh trickle immediately ran down her inner thigh.
Ethan finished, shook once, tucked everything away, and turned to leave.
Deadpan voice, zero emotion:
"You're a total slut, Mom."
Then he shuffled out like a zombie, door closing behind him.
Cassandra stood there, cloth forgotten, staring at her reflection.
One hand slowly rose to cover her mouth.
She whispered to the ceiling, voice trembling with existential crisis:
"Nine generations of proud Li women…
and I just got called a slut by my own son…
because he made me cum by accident…
twice…"
She slid down the cabinet until she was sitting on the warm tile floor, robe completely open, face in her hands.
Somewhere outside, the sound of pancakes hitting plates.
Just another totally normal morning.
Living room – 10:37 a.m.
Ethan and Ryan Li, two grown men who could make the average person question their life choices just by existing, were sprawled across the massive L-shaped couch like a pair of extremely handsome zombies.
Ethan in his Pikachu onesie, hood ears flopped over his eyes.
Ryan shirtless, sweatpants riding low, abs on full display for no reason.
Both of them were yawning in perfect sync.
Stretch.
Yawn.
Scratch.
Then, out of pure, soul-crushing boredom, they both lazily reached into their pants and started idly playing with themselves like two kids fidgeting with fidget spinners.
No lust.
No arousal.
Just two dudes so bored they were using their own dicks as stress toys.
Mia walked in wearing an oversized university hoodie and shorts, carrying a bowl of cereal.
She took one look at the scene, turned directly to the invisible audience, and spoke in the sweetest, most innocent voice:
"I'm a good girl, okay?
Whatever you perverts are thinking, stop it.
They're just like this when they're bored. It's not weird. It's just… them."
She gave a tiny, polite bow.
"Thank you, Author-sama, for clarifying."
Then, to the room:
"Can I put something on TV? You two look like you're about to evolve into actual corpses."
The Author's voice floated down from nowhere:
"Go for it."
Mia happily grabbed the remote, clicked on the 8K ultra TV with full Dolby Atmos.
The screen lit up with… uh…
A POV shot of a guy absolutely destroying a girl in missionary, cock buried deep, balls slapping ass, wet slaps echoing, moans in perfect surround sound.
"YES—YES—FUCK ME HARDER—"
Ethan and Ryan both slowly turned their heads toward the ceiling.
Twin deadpan stares.
Ethan: "…"
Ryan: "…"
The Author's voice, sheepish:
"…Oops. Wrong input. My bad."
Mia just blinked at the screen, cereal spoon frozen halfway to her mouth.
Then shrugged.
"Actually… this is fine."
She sat between her brothers, crunched her cereal, and watched the "movie" like it was a nature documentary.
The three siblings (one still lazily holding his dick, one shirtless, one completely unfazed) just chilled together.
Just another totally normal morning in the Li house.