Dumbfounded, an overflowing basket hanging from the crook of his arm, Honda stared at the five rows of different flours neatly stacked in the third aisle of the food hall of their local supermarket. The recipe he had found had only said 'flour'. It turned out, there was more than one for each occasion. His hand hovered a bag with a picture of okonomiyaki on it, but then he saw the one next to it with a vivid drawing of tempura shrimp.

Tempura was precisely what he planned to prepare as a side dish for Friday night, as it was delicious, well-known, yet complex enough to impress.

Maybe this one would work for both? Yet, there was no mention of okonomiyaki on the package.

Honda briefly shut his eyes and resisted the burning need to ask Yuki. But maybe...

Quickly, he shot a message to the one person he could trust not to know about the dangerous bet he had made. His pride would take a hit but after all, he was a house-husband for a few days. It was a legitimate question.

Me: Onee san, is it fine to use tempura flour for making okonomiyaki? Or vice-versa?

To his annoyance, the message showed as being delivered but unread. His sister was apparently too busy strategizing against their otherworldly foes to spend her days with her nose on her phone. He'd have to make an executive decision.

With a sigh, he put both packages in his basket and walked to the cashier, eager to go home after nearly an hour spent going aisle after aisle to find all the ingredients for the dishes he had chosen for the next few days.

Right as he was about to drive off, his phone buzzed.

Onee_san: the store brands are the worst, it is a mere marketing trap! Just use plain rice flour for both, it will be perfect.

Onee_san: Brother, my apologies, but are you cooking?

Onee_san: is everything fine? Are Yuki san and Lana san sick? Do you and Francesco san need my assistance with the children?

Groaning aloud, Honda stared at the ceiling of his car. He deleted three replies before he found words that wouldn't come across as too short or bitter. Although she wasn't above being snarky, his elder sister meant well this time. Since their mother's passing, they had grown closer, and he was glad of it. But sometimes Hiromi was too much of a mother hen.

He had enough strong women in his life to keep him busy.

Me: Thank you for the tip, I will remember it for next time. Yes. Yes. No. No. I am home alone with the children and wish to teach them how to cook basic dishes.

That was almost not a lie. While shopping, he had realized that cooking with the children could be a nice moment for the three of them. If the recipe turned out to be a disaster, it would be difficult to pinpoint the actual culprit.

Onee_san: I see. Well, I understand that there are many instructional videos on the internet these days.

Videos! Relief washed over Honda, but then he shook his head, disappointed with himself. Why hadn't he thought of that? He only had to find a good one.

Me: Indeed, that's what I meant to do. Thank you for your assistance.

Onee_san: Don't forget to send me a picture, I would like to see the results of your brave endeavors.

Honda grimaced and didn't reply. He had the nagging feeling that his sister would get pictures in any case.

Twenty minutes later, he was done packing the fridge with his groceries in the large kitchen of his home. Grabbing a pen and a block of paper, he sat at the table and jolted down a detailed plan for the next meals. He'd go with simple yet savory for the children and himself, and elegant and impressive for his spouses. He'd need to go back to the supermarket on D-Day, but he had enough to run tests.

Putting down his pen, he glanced at his list. This would be hard work, but highly rewarding. It was time to find videos for okonomiyaki and the series of dishes he'd serve on Friday night.

A satisfied grin pulled at his lips while he scrolled down an impressively long list of cooking channels. His partners would be so impressed, he'd win the day— and the weekend would turn out to be absolutely delicious.

His mind began to wander. Fed by days of forced celibacy, dozens of naughty scenarios crossed his mind, always racier and bolder. All of them featured his three beloved in various mouthwatering poses, bodies flushed and perspiring, groans and moans passing their lips, quivering thighs and shoulders bearing his mark, orifices stretched and begging for his attention. An excellent reminder of how dangerous it was to play with fire where he was concerned.

Their resilience would be tested, and nobody would dodge his lustful wrath, not even Yuki who had found subtle ways to take the lead or watch him dominate their partners without truly taking a knee herself since he had come back.

This was new, different and fine—for sure, life was all about change, and witnessing his wife's rise in power was mesmerizing, boosted as it was by divine blessing. Still, he'd welcome this opportunity to make his beloved squirm and beg, helpless, in his arms. Seeing Yuki surrender to him, lust and pride dancing in her eyes, was the privilege of his life.

Of his lives.

As for his feisty Lana and proud Francesco, there was nothing to negotiate. They'd get a good reminder of what respect and discipline meant.

As always, the biggest challenge would be to stay in control and not let his own desire and passion for his partners ruin their scene.

Honda shook himself and sighed; daydreaming wasn't going to help at all, and there was nobody home to take care of his hard-on. It had been years since he hadn't needed to resort to his own hand, and he wouldn't start today. An excellent way to build on his resilience.

He went back to his screen, but right then, his stomach growled, reminding him he had yet to eat lunch. Lost in comparing recipe ratings and ingredient lists, he didn't think twice and poked around his back pocket. He grabbed the two sweets he found there, unwrapped them without looking, and gulped them down.

An arresting combination of flavors froze him on his spot, and despite himself, a groan of pleasure escaped him. Honda closed his eyes and savored the incredible burst of tastes that filled his mouth. First, fresh strawberries with a hint of matcha cream, then smooth chocolate ganache enhanced by a drop of whiskey, and finally the tang of freshly whipped lemon meringues.

It was like feasting on a dessert buffet in a luxurious hotel. Honda's hard-on throbbed painfully, and for a second, he wondered if he was about to come in his pants, only to realize he wouldn't care. These sweets were extraordinary.

Unheard of. Divine.

Magical.

Honda's eyes flew open in shock, but it was too late. He had swallowed the two treats. A wave of panic seized his heart, and with shaking hands he grabbed the discarded wrappings, but nothing was written on them.