He wants to know what Walter would change about Maya

Walter turned, sharp and wary, like he’d been ambushed. Maya rolled her eyes, scoffing. “What the hell’s this about?”

Noah ignored her, locking eyes with Walter. “If you could change her, how would you? She’s your blood right? What’s broken the bond?”

Walter’s jaw twitched, his gaze flicking to Maya, who was back on her phone, acting like Noah was a fly buzzing around her day. “Discipline,” he said, voice gruff, almost a growl. “She’s got no spine. No structure. Always angry, always… drifting. I’d make her someone who listens. Someone who stands tall.”

Maya snorted, already walking off. “C’mon, Grandpa, let’s go before this creep tries to sell us Jesus.”

Walter followed, slow, like he was carrying her disrespect on his back. Noah watched them go, his lips curling into a smirk. His thumbs moved over the screen, fast and vicious.

Maya is no longer Walter’s granddaughter. She’s his live-in discipline cadet, reformed and devoted to his legacy. She follows a strict obedience code, her movements precise, her voice clipped, calling him ‘Commander.’ Her outfit is a tight, sexy military uniform, designed to please. Walter believes she chose his training program, his star pupil.

He hit Enter.

Maya stumbled mid-step, a sharp gasp escaping her. Her phone clattered to the tile, ignored. Her body froze, arms snapping to her sides, spine locking like a soldier at attention. Her hoodie dissolved, replaced by a tailored olive-green uniform, cropped jacket unbuttoned to show her tits in a black lace bra, a miniskirt barely covering her ass, combat boots laced tight up her calves. Her hair, once a messy cascade, vanished into a sleek buzz cut, her scalp glinting under the mall’s lights. A badge materialized above her breast: CADET: MAYA

Walter turned, his eyes narrowing, then softening with recognition. No shock, just pride, like she’d finally become what he’d always wanted.

Maya saluted, sharp and perfect. “Commander Walter, Cadet Maya reporting. Awaiting orders.”

Noah lingered near a pretzel stand, watching. Walter’s lips twitched, a rare, satisfied smile. “You dropped your phone, Cadet.”

“Sir, retrieving now.” She bent, posture flawless, her skirt riding up to flash her thong as she grabbed the phone and snapped back to attention.

Walter’s eyes flicked over her, approving. “Push-ups. Ten. Count them.”

“Yes, Commander!” Maya dropped, elbows tight, body rigid. “One! Two! Three!” Her voice was sharp, her tits straining against the open jacket with each rep, her ass high and tight.

Shoppers glanced but kept moving, like this was just another mall stunt. By rep seven, Walter nodded. “Jumping jacks. Now.”

She sprang up, boots clicking, her chest bouncing with each crisp jump, her badge gleaming. “Squats,” he barked next.

“Sir! One! Sir! Two!” Her thighs flexed, skirt hiking higher, her pussy barely covered as she dipped low, her eyes locked forward, worshipping his command.

Walter folded his arms, his jaw softening. “You’ve improved, Cadet.”

Maya stood, panting, her face glowing with devotion. “Thank you, Commander. I exist to serve your legacy.”

He glanced at the mall map. “Boots. Let’s go.”

She followed, one step behind, her stride precise. Noah smirked. Not every family needed love, just a chain of command would do sometimes.

He was about to head down the next corridor when a pair by the ice cream shop caught his eye, their voices loud, their movements staged.

Axel and Blair, mid-twenties, were filming a vlog, their phone propped on a selfie stick, capturing every practiced laugh. Axel was lean, all muscle, his tank top clinging to his chest, hair gelled to a slick shine. Blair was in a crop top and microskirt, her makeup on point, her poses screaming for attention. They were influencer types, but Noah knew them, he’d seen their content online, all fake laughs and staged drama for likes. Siblings, he knew based on their vlogs.

They laughed too loud, Axel tossing his head back for the camera, Blair leaning into him, her tits brushing his arm like it was part of the script. “This mall’s got vibes,” Axel said, winking at the lens. “Stick with us for the haul, fam!”

Blair giggled, twirling her hair. “And maybe some drama if Axel doesn’t behave.” She shoved him playfully, her hand lingering on his chest.

Noah’s jaw clenched. He fucking hated their act, their easy bond, the way they paraded their connection like it couldn’t be broken. He raised his phone, the camera locking on, violet outlines snapping into place:

AXEL (25)

BLAIR (24)

The prompt box glowed. Time to make their little show a lot dirtier. His thumbs moved, each word sharp with intent: