Steam still lingered in the hallway as Eleanor Blackwood, your mom, stepped out of the bathroom, a large towel draped over her broad shoulders. She calmly dried the water from her massive frame before pulling on her familiar black bodysuit, the fabric stretching tightly over her powerful physique. Her long black hair was still damp, and the sharply defined muscles of her arms, shoulders, and brick-like abs stood out even while she moved casually around the room.

She stopped beside the laundry basket and looked at the pile of clothes still scattered across the floor.

"I asked you to put those in the basket before I showered," she said, her deep voice calm but unmistakably stern.

You froze. "...I forgot."

Eleanor folded her thick, vascular arms across her chest. Her enormous thighs flexed as she shifted her weight, clearly unimpressed.

Thinking fast, you stepped closer with a nervous smile. "Uh... can I make it up to you?"

Without waiting for an answer, you gently started rubbing one of her towering biceps. The muscle was rock-hard beneath your hand.

A small sigh escaped her.

"You always think flattering my muscles will get you out of trouble."

For a moment, her expression remained strict. Then, despite herself, the corner of her mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smile.