Chapter 2: Exploring Depravity

The sensation began as a deep subterranean itch buried miles beneath my skin. It wasn’t painful exactly. It was more like the feeling of a limb falling asleep but amplified to a deafening frequency that vibrated through my very marrow. I gripped the armrests of my gaming chair. My knuckles turned white.

It started in my chest.

A profound heat bloomed behind my nipples. I watched in a trance as the flat planes of my pectorals began to soften. The muscle lost its hard edge and dissolved into something plush and yielding. The skin stretched. It felt like warm water was being poured under my flesh. Two mounds swelled outward. They pushed against my black t-shirt. I gasped as the fabric pulled tight. My nipples burned with a sudden electric sensitivity that made my back arch. They were expanding and darkening and pushing out against the cotton.

The heat rushed lower.

My waist felt like it was being squeezed by a giant unseen hand. My ribs groaned and shifted inward. The bone structure itself was rewriting. The sensation was dizzying. At the same time my hips flared outward with a sickeningly wet pop. The seat of my chair suddenly felt too small as my ass expanded. It rounded and softened into a plush cushion of feminine fat.

Then came the groin.

This was the part I was terrified of. It felt like ice water and fire. I felt my balls retreat. They were sucked up inside me. It was a sensation of profound loss followed immediately by a feeling of intricate biological construction. My penis shrank. It retreated into my body like a turtle hiding in its shell. The sensation was maddening. It was an inversion of nerves. Where there was once an outward pressure there was now a deepening void.

My skin smoothed over. A slit formed. Delicate folds unfurled like a blooming flower. The nerves that had once been on the outside were now tucking themselves away into a hidden internal cluster.

A final wave of tingles washed over my scalp. My hair lengthened rapidly. It tickled my neck. It brushed my shoulders. It tumbled down my back in a silky curtain.

The trembling stopped. The heat faded.

I sat there panting. My heart was hammering against ribs that felt too small for my lungs. My internal monologue was still mine. I was still Leo. I was still a guy in my head.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

The voice that came out was not mine. It was higher. Softer. It was a melodic alto that vibrated in a throat that no longer had an Adam's apple.

I brought my hand up to my face. It looked alien. The fingers were slender and tapered. The skin was creamy and hairless. The wrist was delicate. I touched my cheek. It was soft as velvet. There was no stubble. Just smooth skin.

I looked down.

Two mounds of flesh blocked my view of my lap. They weren't huge but they were undeniably there. I reached up with trembling fingers. I poked one. It yielded. It was soft. It was real flesh.

I cupped them. My new hands fit perfectly around the curves. The sensation was mind-blowing. I could feel the warmth of my hand on my breast and I could feel the sensitivity of my breast under my hand. It was a feedback loop of tactile information that my brain wasn't wired to handle.

My thumbs brushed over the nipples through the thin fabric of my t-shirt.

A bolt of lightning shot straight down to my crotch.

I gasped. My legs clamped together involuntarily. The sensitivity was off the charts. It was sharper and more pervasive than anything I had felt as a guy.

I had to see.

I shoved my hands into the waistband of my boxer briefs. They were loose now. Gapingly loose around my narrower waist.

My fingers brushed against smooth skin. No hair. No dick. Just a soft mound.

I pushed lower. I found the slit. It was wet. Slick with a fluid I hadn't produced a minute ago. My fingers slid into the folds. I explored the alien geography of my own body. It was hot and slippery.

My finger found a small nub at the top. I brushed it.

My whole body jolted. My toes curled in my socks.

"Oh god," I moaned. The sound was embarrassing. It was needy.

I rubbed it again. A wave of pleasure rolled up my spine. It was different from jerking off. It was deeper. It felt like my whole body was lighting up. I circled the little button and the pleasure spiked. I was getting wet. So wet. I could feel it soaking into the cotton of my boxers.

The door handle turned.

Panic seized me. I ripped my hand out of my boxers and spun the chair around just as the door swung open.

It was Mom.

"Darling, I'm just bringing up your clean clothes," she began. She looked tired. She was holding a laundry basket. "I wanted to get this done before…"

She stopped. She blinked.

She was looking right at me. She was looking at a girl with long dark hair wearing a tight black t-shirt and loose men's boxer briefs.

I froze. My mouth opened but no words came out. This was it. The jig was up.

But she didn't scream. She didn't look confused. She just looked... annoyed.

"Leonora," she sighed. She set the basket down on my bed. "Darling I know you say you prefer male clothes and I respect your choices. But seriously. You have female anatomy. You can't just sit around shirtless or in underwear like a man can. The door wasn't even locked."

My brain short-circuited. Leonora?

She walked over and picked up a pile of dirty clothes from my floor. "And look at this mess. Just because you're taking a gap year doesn't mean you can live like a slob."

I stared at her. The AWARENESS toggle. It had rewritten her perception. In her mind I wasn't Leo her son. I was Leonora her daughter. A daughter who apparently was a tomboy who refused to wear girl clothes. It was the only way her brain could reconcile the visual data with her memories.

"Uhhh," I stammered. My voice was still a shock to my ears. "Sorry Mom. Okay."

She paused at the door. She looked at me with a mix of maternal affection and exasperation. "Look Leo. Just meet me halfway? Buy a bra for yourself. You can wear it under your male clothes! You're going to need the support eventually."

"Uhhh okay Mom," I said. "No problem."

She smiled and closed the door.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I slumped back in the chair.

Leonora. And she still shortened it to Leo.

I was really a woman. To the world and to my own mother I was a girl.

I grabbed my phone from the desk. I unlocked it with a trembling thumb. I opened my photos.

Every selfie. Every group photo. Every family picture.

They were all changed.

There was me at prom in a tuxedo but with long hair and soft makeup posing with my lifelong friend Meg. I remembered this photo… it looked almost identical except for my gender.

There was me at graduation in the gown looking undeniably female. Reality had shifted to accommodate the edit. It was insane. It was terrifying. It was fucking hot.

I stood up and walked to the full-length mirror on the back of my door. I looked at myself.

I was cute. Not a supermodel but definitely cute. I had a heart-shaped face and big dark eyes. My lips were naturally full. My body was slender but with just enough curve to the hips to be noticeable.

I turned to the side. My boobs were perky. I ran my hands down my sides feeling the dip of my waist and the flare of my hips.

I looked at the clock. 11:30 PM. Mr. Gable wouldn't be home from his league game for another hour. Mrs. Gable was probably still awake next door.

A dark thought bloomed in my mind.

I had the power to edit reality. I had the power to edit people.

I went back to the computer. I backed out of my profile, staying as girl-me.

I typed in Chelsea Gable.

Her avatar loaded. The 46-year-old woman in the nightgown.

I looked at the AWARENESS toggle. I clicked it to OFF.

I went to the Body tab. Age. I dragged it from 46 down to 21.

The avatar snapped into youth. Her skin smoothed. Her body lifted. My breath caught. This was dangerous. This was wrong. But my hand was already moving to the Breasts tab.

I cranked it. C. D. E. F.

I gave her tits that were comically large. Massive balloons that would hang heavy on her chest.

Then I went to the Mind tab.

Promiscuity. I dragged the slider all the way to the right. 10/10.

Inhibitions. I dragged it all the way to the left. 1/10.

I stared at the screen. My new pussy gave a wet twitch against the cotton of my boxers. The thought of her acting like a slut was doing things to my brain that I couldn't explain.

I hit APPLY.

Silence.

I waited a beat. Then I stood up. My legs felt shaky.

After throwing on a t-shirt, I opened my door and crept into the hallway. I could hear humming coming from downstairs.

I crept down the stairs and slipped out the back door. My bare feet were silent on the damp grass as I crossed the yard to the Gables' house. I used my spare key and pushed their kitchen door open. I could hear humming coming from the next room.

She was in the living room. She was folding laundry on the sofa.

I stopped in the hallway arch. My jaw went slack.

She was stunning. She looked almost younger than me. Her skin was radiant. Her hair was thicker and shinier.

But it was her body that stole the show.

She was wearing her old nightgown but it was hopelessly inadequate. Her breasts were titanic. They were two massive spheres of flesh that strained the fabric to its breaking point. Her nipples were hard points tenting the silk. They swayed heavily as she moved.

She looked up. Her eyes were bright and glazed with a sort of perpetual arousal.

"Oh hey darling," she cooed. Her voice was breathy. "What are you doing over here so late? Did you leave something her? Do you need anything?"

I couldn't speak. I just stared at her. My brain was trying to process the visual information and failing miserably. She looked like a porn star cosplaying as my neighbor.

"Mrs. Gable," I managed to choke out. "You look... young. Like really young. How are you in your forties if you look twenty-one?"

She laughed. It was a light, bubbly sound that seemed completely alien coming from her. "Oh honey, how could you forget? I'm not actually twenty-one. Don't you remember? The doctors found that weird anomaly with my cells. They said I just stopped aging from twenty-one to forty-five. Actually come to think of it I should be aging normally again starting now. Funny timing!"

She giggled again. The logic was absurd. It was dream logic. But because I had turned Awareness off the program had simply rewritten the universe's history to make her appearance plausible.

"Right," I muttered. "The anomaly."

She stepped closer. The smell of her perfume was overwhelming. It mixed with a heavy musk of arousal that seemed to radiate off her skin.

"Oh Leo, what do you think of this?" She held up a small white sports bra. It looked tiny. "Think my boobies will look good in it? I know it's a bit small but I like the squeeze."

My mouth went dry. "Uhhh..."

"I know you'd look good in a sports bra if you'd ever try clothes suited to your body," she chided playfully. She dropped the nightgown to the floor.

She was naked.

I stood there frozen. My kind middle-aged neighbor was standing in the living room completely nude. Her skin was flawless. Her stomach was flat and toned. Her hips flared out into a perfect curve. But her chest... god her chest.

Her breasts were colossal. Without the support of the nightgown they swung heavy and low. They were impossibly round. Massive bags of soft fat that jiggled with every breath she took. Her nipples were the size of pepperoni slices and dark red. They were hard as diamonds.

"Well?" she asked. She slid the top on, then she put her hands on her hips and posed. "You think I look hot?"

I couldn't look away. My eyes were glued to the patch of dark hair between her legs which was already glistening with moisture.

She stepped right up to me. She took my hand. Her skin was burning hot.

"Here," she whispered. She pressed my hand against her left breast.

It was heavy. It was incredibly soft. My fingers sank into the flesh like it was memory foam. I could feel the heat radiating from it. I could feel the rapid thumping of her heart beneath the wall of tissue.

"You think it holds them okay?" she breathed. She leaned into my hand.

I squeezed. I couldn't help it. The sensation was electric.

"Oooh," she moaned. Her head fell back. "You hit the nipple. God... you know how much of a hair-trigger I am."

She bit her lip. Her eyes were half-closed. They looked hazy and drunk with lust.

"Ugh I wish Rob was here," she groaned. She rubbed her thighs together. "I need my husband to fuck me real good. I need something thick inside me."

I almost choked on my own saliva. The Inhibitions slider. I had dropped it to one. She had no filter. No shame.

She looked at me. Her eyes traveled down my body to the bulge in my boxers. Even tucked away my reaction to this was obvious.

"Maybe you can help your neighbor out, woman to woman? Girl to girl?" she whispered. She reached out and brushed the front of my underwear. "I just NEED to get off. I don't care how."

Panic and lust warred in my brain. This was Mrs. Gable. But it wasn't. It was a twenty-one-year-old nymphomaniac construct I had built.

"I... I have to go," I stammered. I pulled my hand away from her breast. It felt cold without the warmth of her skin.

"Bah," she pouted. "You must be tired. Go get some rest next door. I can handle this one myself."

She turned away from me. She sat down on the edge of the sofa and spread her legs wide. I watched in a trance as she brought two fingers to her lips, wet them, and then plunged them into her soaking wet pussy.

"Oh god yes," she moaned loudly.

I turned and ran. I sprinted out her door and across the yard to my house, flying up my own stairs. My bare feet pounded on the carpet. My new pussy was dripping wet. The friction of the boxers against my sensitive nub was agonizingly good.

I slammed my bedroom door and locked it. I threw myself into the chair.

"Okay," I gasped. "Too far. Way too far."

I grabbed the mouse. I needed to reset her. I needed to put her back to normal before Mr. Gable came home.

I clicked on her profile.

ERROR: NO PRESET FOUND.

My heart stopped. I hadn't saved her baseline.

"Shit shit shit," I hissed.

I looked at the sliders. I knew her age was 46. I knew she was a B-cup. But the mental stats? The libido? The inhibitions? I couldn't remember the exact numbers. I’d have to guess.

I gripped the mouse. My hand was shaking. I was so horny it hurt. The image of her spread out on the couch was burned into my retinas. She wanted it. She was begging for it.

A dark twisted idea formed in my mind. It was reckless. It was depraved.

I didn't reset her.

I backed out to the main menu. I clicked on my own profile.

I went to the Body tab. Sex.

I clicked MALE.

APPLY.

The sensation was violent. My hips crunched inward. My chest deflated, the fat dissolving instantly into muscle. My pussy inverted, pushing outward, reforming into balls and a shaft. The relief was instantaneous. I was me again.

I didn't stop there.

I turned AWARENESS back to ON. I didn’t want Mrs. Gable to recognize me.

I went to Age. I slid it to 25.

I went to Face. I adjusted the jawline, making it square and chiseled. I changed the eye color to green. I changed the hair to a dirty blond.

I went to Muscle Mass. I cranked it up until I looked like a fitness model. Lean. Ripped. Powerful.

I went to Genitalia. 8 inches. Thick.

I clicked SAVE. Preset: The Hot Stranger.

I stripped my t shirt, then hit APPLY.

Heat flooded my body. My bones stretched. My skin tightened. I watched my reflection in the dark monitor as my face shifted, my nose reshaping, my jaw widening. I felt power surge into my limbs. I looked down. My dick was heavy and thick against my thigh.

I wasn't Leo anymore. I was a stranger. An attractive, powerful stranger.

I grabbed a pair of jeans and the same white t-shirt from my floor. They fit differently now. The shirt was tight across my chest. The jeans were snug in the crotch.

I climbed out onto the roof of the porch and dropped down to the lawn. I landed lightly, my new muscles absorbing the impact easily.

I walked across the yard to the Gables' front door. My heart was pounding a hole in my chest. This was insane. This was the craziest thing I had ever done.

I knocked. Three hard raps.

I waited.

The door swung open.

She was still naked. Her body was flushed pink. She was breathing hard. She must have just stopped touching herself to answer the door.

She looked me up and down. Her eyes went wide. She licked her lips.

"Uhhh hi," I said. My voice was deeper. Resonant. "I'm here selling..."

She didn't let me finish.

"God you're hot," she breathed. She reached out and grabbed the front of my shirt. "Perfect timing."

She yanked me inside and kicked the door shut.

Before I could breathe she was on me. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around my waist. Her massive tits smashed into my face. She kissed me. Her tongue was hot and demanding.

I was kissing Mrs. Gable.

The thought should have killed the mood. It should have felt completely wrong. This was the middle aged lady that lived next door. The one who paid me to help with odd jobs that her son used to do. But the woman in my arms didn't feel like my neighbor. She felt like a sex goddess constructed specifically for my pleasure. Because she was.

I groaned and gripped her ass. It was soft and yielding. I walked her backward into the living room and threw her onto the couch.

She landed with a bounce. She spread her legs instantly. "Fuck me," she begged. "Please. I need it."

I didn't hesitate. I unzipped my jeans and shoved them down. My cock sprang free, hard as iron.

She gasped when she saw it. "Oh my god. Yes. Give it to me."

I climbed on top of her. I lined myself up. I pushed in.

She was so tight. So wet. She screamed as I entered her, her head thrashing back against the cushions.

"Yes! Yes! Harder!"

I began to pound her. The sensation was incredible. Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my brain. I watched her massive tits bounce and sway with every impact. I grabbed them, squeezing the soft flesh, marveling at the weight of them.

She wrapped her legs around me, locking me in. She clawed at my back. She was an animal. The inhibition slider at one meant she held nothing back. She met every thrust with a desperate buck of her hips.

We fucked like that for minutes. Hard. Fast. Brutal.

Then I flipped her over.

"Doggy," I growled.

She obeyed instantly. She got on her hands and knees. Her ass was a perfect heart shape. I grabbed her hips and drove into her from behind.

The view was spectacular. Her tits swung beneath her, brushing the couch cushions. I reached around and grabbed one, pulling it back, kneading the nipple while I hammered into her.

"Oh god stranger!" she screamed. "You feel so good! You're so big!"

I could feel it building. The pressure in my balls was intense.

"I'm gonna cum," I grunted.

"Do it!" she yelled. "Fill me up! Breed me!"

I drove into her one last time, burying myself to the hilt. I exploded.

I pumped jet after jet of hot seed deep inside her. She clamped down around me, milking me dry, screaming my fake name into the cushions.

I collapsed on top of her, panting, my face buried in her neck.

We lay there for a minute, the only sound our heavy breathing.

"Wow," she whispered. "That was... magical."

I pulled out. I stood up and pulled my pants up.

"I have to go," I said. My voice was rough.

"Will you come back?" she asked, looking up at me with hopeful, lust-filled eyes.

"Maybe," I said.

I walked out her front door. I walked across the dark yard and climbed back up the trellis to my window.

I fell into my chair. I was shaking.

I looked at the computer screen. The program was still running.

I had just fucked Mrs. Gable. And I wanted to do it again.

I reached for the mouse. I had so much more testing to do.

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Chapter 3: Testing In Public

The sound of a heavy SUV pulling into the driveway next door vibrated through my open window. It snapped me out of the haze of post-coital bliss and god-complex adrenaline.

Mr. Gable was home.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. God that was close. Another 30 minutes and I would have been caught. I looked at the screen, then down at my own body. I was still the "Hot Stranger." I had kept Awareness ON for my own transformation so Chelsea wouldn't recognize me as the neighbor kid. That meant if Rob Gable walked through their front door while we were fucking, he wouldn't see Leo. He’d see a six-foot-four intruder who just finished with his wife.

My heart was racing. I scrambled for the mouse. I needed to revert. I needed normalcy.

I loaded the Baseline Leo profile. My finger hovered over APPLY.

Then I froze. Mrs. Gable.

She was still next door, naked, glistening with my sweat, and waiting for round two. She was currently a twenty-one-year-old nymphomaniac with zero inhibitions.

I hesitated. I had turned Awareness OFF for her changes. That meant when Mr. Gable walked through that door, he wouldn't be shocked. He wouldn't have a heart attack. The reality distortion field would just tell him that his wife was a twenty-one-year-old with an aging condition, and he’d probably just be happy to see her naked on the couch. Might even expect it.

"He won't know," I whispered, the realization washing over me. "He'll just think it's normal."

But then a sour, ugly feeling twisted in my gut. Jealousy.

I had created that version of her. I had sculpted her youth, her massive tits, her insatiable need. She was mine. The thought of Mr. Gable, balding, tired, complaining Rob Gable, walking in and getting to enjoy the fruits of my labor... getting to fuck the sex goddess I had just broken in?

It made me want to vomit. It felt wrong. Weirder than what I had just done. She was mine tonight, not his.

"No," I muttered. "You don't get her like that."

I switched tabs frantically. Chelsea Gable.

ERROR: NO PRESET FOUND.

"Fuck!" I slammed my hand on the desk.

I had been so eager to test the limits I hadn't saved her original state. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to visualize the numbers. Age was 46. That was easy. But the mental stats? The libido? The inhibitions?

Through my open window, I could hear the heavy thud of Mr. Gable’s car door shutting. His front door clicked open.

I didn't have time for precision. I had to ballpark it.

I dragged the Age slider back up to 46.

I went to the Body tab. Breasts. She was a B-cup before. A modest, neighborly B. My cursor drifted. I remembered the weight of them in my hands just minutes ago. The way she moaned when I squeezed.

I couldn't go back. Not all the way.

I set them to C. Large C. Perky, but within the realm of "maybe she's just wearing a good bra."

I moved to Fitness. I nudged it up. Tighter skin. Less sagging. A little gift from her neighbor.

But the mental state. That was the tricky part. I hesitated over the Libido slider. It was 10 maxed out. What was her default? A 4? I couldn’t remember. But seeing her like that... seeing her beg...

I nudged it to 6. Slightly higher maybe. A slight hum of need.

And Inhibitions. Currently set to 0. I dragged it up to 4. Maybe she was a 7 before, I couldn’t remember, but this would be a subtle improvement. I didn’t want her back to normal. She deserved to have a little more fun. To be a little more fun.

"Be happy, Chelsea," I whispered.

I checked the toggle. AWARENESS: OFF.

I hit APPLY.

A faint shimmer rippled through the floorboards. The program was rewriting the downstairs reality again. She was just Chelsea. But slightly improved

Ok, now for me.

I clicked Baseline Leo. AWARENESS: ON.

APPLY.

The crash was brutal. The power drained out of my limbs like water from a cracked tub. My height collapsed, my bones grinding as they shrank back to average. The massive, throbbing erection that had just plundered my mother shriveled, retreating into my pants until it was just my standard, unremarkable dick. The mind-clouding lust evaporated, replaced by the sharp, cold clarity of adrenaline.

I sat there, breathing hard, feeling small. Feeling weak.

"I'm home!" Mr. Gable’s voice boomed across the yards.

I froze. I crept to my window and pushed it open wider, straining to hear across the gap between our houses. Luckily they often kept their ground floor windows open.

"Hey, Rob," Mrs. Gable’s voice floated out from their living room window.

It wasn't the breathy, porn-star voice of the twenty-one-year-old construct. It was Mrs. Gable. But there was a lilt to it. A brightness that hadn't been there in years.

"Glad you’re home," she said.

"Game got called. Smith twisted his ankle, so we went to the bar for drinks instead," Mr. Gable grunted. "Dinner put away?"

"It's in the fridge. I can heat it up for you?"

"Nah. I'll get a beer."

I clenched my jaw.

I had just given her the best sex of her life. I had rewritten her biology to make her vibrant, horny, and eager to please. She was greeting him warmly, and he was brushing her off like she was the maid.

"Did you... did you want to go upstairs?" Mrs. Gable asked. Her voice dropped an octave. It was subtle, but I heard the higher libido kicking in. "I'm not tired, Rob. And I was having the most vivid dream before you walked in..."

"I am," Mr. Gable said. "Long day tomorrow. Don't wait up."

I heard her sigh. It was a soft, defeated sound.

"Okay, Rob. Goodnight."

Rage flared in my gut. A hot, ugly knot of resentment. He didn't deserve her. He didn't even see her.

I looked at the screen. The Master PC window glowed in the darkness.

I wasn't useless. I wasn't a disappointment. I was the one who could make her happy. And I was the one who controlled her reality.

I shut down the monitor and crawled into bed, but sleep didn't come for a long time. I lay there picturing Mrs. Gable next door, frustrated and horny, while her husband snored on the couch.

It made me feel superior. It made me feel like the man of the house.

--------------------

Sunlight hit my face like a physical slap. I groaned and rolled over, checking my phone. 10:00 AM.

For a second, the memories of the night before felt like a hallucination. A fever dream brought on by too much caffeine and loneliness.

Then I saw the icon on my desktop.

I sat up. I needed coffee.

I walked downstairs. The house was quiet. I grabbed the spare key from the hook and headed next door to feed the Gables' cat, assuming they had both left for work by now. I didn’t see Mr Gable’s car in the driveway. Good.

But as I entered their home and walked into their kitchen, Mrs. Gable was there to my surprise. She was standing at the stove, pouring a cup of coffee.

She turned as I entered.

"Good morning, Leo," she beamed.

My breath hitched.

She looked... good. Really good.

The tweaks I made were subtle, but they were there. Her skin was tighter, glowing with a health that defied her age. And her chest. Under her sensible floral blouse, she was definitely fuller. The buttons were straining just a fraction more than usual. The C-cups were high and proud.

"Morning," I croaked.

She walked over and wrapped me in a hug. It was tight. Warm.

She held on for a second too long.

"Mmm," she hummed, squeezing me. "Sorry, I know I’ve normally left by now, but I'm running a little late this morning. I forgot to text you to come over later instead."

She pulled back, keeping her hands on my shoulders. Her eyes searched mine. There was a glaze to them. A lingering fog of confusion mixed with latent arousal.

"I had the wildest dreams last night, Leo," she said, biting her lip. "So vivid. I can't even remember the details, but I woke up feeling... wonderful."

She laughed, a nervous, fluttery sound. She smoothed her blouse down, her hand brushing over her expanded chest.

"Just wonderful."

She turned back to the counter, humming a tune. She swayed her hips as she reached for her mug. The inhibition slider was working. She was looser. freer.

"I left the cat food on the counter," she said, smiling warmly. "Since you’re here now, you may as well feed her, but could you still come back later to check on her? Thanks for helping out."

I nodded, and fed the cat in silence, watching her move. Watching the way the fabric of her pants pulled against her slightly firmer ass. God, I’ve never seen Mrs. Gable like this before…

I needed to get out of here. The tension in the kitchen was suffocating. And I needed to test the range.

"I'm gonna head to the Beanery," I said, putting the cat food away. "Do some... job hunting."

"Okay, sweetie. Have a good day," she called out as I left.

Once I was back in my house, in my bedroom, I sat there for a moment just thinking about what her. What I’d done to her. This program is… it’s incredible. I needed to test it more. Going to the Beanery was just an excuse I said to Mrs Gable to leave, but it actually wasn’t a bad idea. I could do some more testing there. 

I grabbed my laptop bag, and I made sure the bridge was active. Luca had set up a robust home network for us years ago, and I had piggybacked off it. I had the client installed on my laptop, tunneling back to the desktop upstairs. The plan was to remote-in to my desktop from the cafe.

If this worked, the world was my playground.

----------------

The Beanery was crowded. It was the go-to spot for the local college crowd and high school seniors enjoying their summer. The air smelled of roasted beans and pretension.

I bought a black coffee and found a small table in the corner. I had a clear view of the room.

I booted up the laptop. I connected the VPN.

The grey window appeared.

WELCOME TO MASTER PC. VPN ACTIVE. LOCATION ADJUSTED TO USER’S REMOTE TERMINAL.

It worked. I suppressed a grin. I was worried the range would be limited to my desktop.

I scanned the room.

My eyes landed on a booth near the window.

Chloe.

She was sitting alone, a thick hardcover book open in front of her. Chloe had been in my AP English class. She was the definition of "out of my league." Smart, sharp-tongued, and intimidatingly pretty in a librarian sort of way. She had dark hair cut in a bob, severe glasses, and she usually wore oversized sweaters that hid everything.

Today, she was wearing a gray turtleneck.

I typed her name into the subject line.

Chloe Vance.

SCANNING...

SUBJECT FOUND.

Her avatar loaded.

I checked her stats.

Intelligence: 138.

Damn. I knew she was smart, but that was Mensa level.

Libido: 8. Whoa, that was high. Maybe this stuck up girl has some dark secrets…

Confidence: 8.

Breast Size: A.

I looked at the wireframe model. She was petite. I remembered seeing her running track once or twice. She was fit, but slender. A ruler shape.

I took a sip of coffee. This was going to be fun.

I checked the AWARENESS toggle. It was OFF.

I went to the Body tab. Breasts.

I watched her over the top of my screen. She was engrossed in her book, sipping a latte.

I clicked the slider. I dragged it from A to C. I frowned. Too small. I wanted to see the reality bend.

I grabbed the slider again. I dragged it past D. Past DD. I stopped at a full, round E-cup.

APPLY.

It was like watching a magic trick. One second, she was petite. The next, two massive globes of flesh erupted from her chest. The gray turtleneck struggled, the fabric stretching thin, outlining the heavy curve of her underboob.

She shifted in her seat, adjusting her posture to accommodate the sudden weight, but her eyes never left the page. Her reality had rewritten itself. To her, she had always been busty. She had always had to sit up straight to keep her back from hurting.

I looked around the shop. The guy at the next table didn't blink. The barista didn't drop a cup.

I stifled a laugh. It was seamless.

I went to her face. Lips.

I increased the fullness. Her mouth softened, her lips blooming into a pouty, inviting shape that looked ready to be used.

Then, Eyesight.

Current: -4.50 (Myopic).

I dragged the slider to Perfect 20/20.

APPLY.

Across the room, Chloe frowned. She blinked hard. She reached up and took off her glasses, squinting at them. She looked around the room, testing her vision. A look of confusion crossed her face, not because her vision changed, but because she couldn't remember why she was wearing glasses in the first place if she didn't need them.

She folded them and put them in her bag.

It was surprising how without the glasses, and with the new lips, she really did look a lot different. They seem like such minor changes. She looked… hot.

I sat back, feeling the power thrumming through the keyboard. But physical changes were just surface level. I wanted to get inside.

I clicked on the Mind tab.

I scrolled past Intelligence and Libido. I was looking for something specific.

At the bottom of the list, I found a dropdown menu I hadn't played with yet: RELATIONSHIPS.

I clicked it. A search bar appeared: ENTER TARGET NAME.

I typed: Leo Brown.

The program processed for a second.

CURRENT STATUS: ACQUAINTANCE. MEMORY: HIGH SCHOOL CLASSMATE. IMPRESSION: INDIFFERENT/UNREMARKABLE.

Ouch. "Unremarkable." That stung more than the college rejection letter.

I clicked the Edit button. The text field became writable.

I deleted "Indifferent."

I started typing.

STATUS: LONG-TERM CRUSH. IMPRESSION: INTELLIGENT, MYSTERIOUS, SEXUALLY MAGNETIC. HISTORY: HAS ALWAYS REGRETTED NOT MAKING A MOVE IN HIGH SCHOOL.

I paused. I looked at her across the room. She was looking out the window, looking bored.

I added one more line.

FANTASY: RECURRING DAYDREAMS ABOUT AN ENCOUNTER IN A PUBLIC BATHROOM.

APPLY.

I waited.

Chloe sighed. She looked away from the window. Her eyes swept the room.

They landed on me.

Her reaction was instant. Her eyes went wide. A flush of red crept up her neck. She quickly looked down at her book, but I saw a smile tugging at the corner of her new, full lips.

She looked up again, peeking through her lashes.

I caught her eye and gave a small, casual wave.

She froze. Then, looking like she was about to jump out of her skin, she closed her book. She stood up.

My god. Standing up, the E-cups were even more impressive. They bounced heavily with her movement, making her petite frame look top-heavy. She smoothed her turtleneck nervously and walked over to my table.

"Leo?" she asked. Her voice was breathy, nervous.

"Hey, Chloe," I said, leaning back. "Long time."

"I... I wasn't sure it was you," she stammered. She was fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "You look... really good."

"You too," I said, letting my eyes drop to her chest for a split second. "You look different. Did you do something with your hair?"

She giggled. It was a girly, uncharacteristic sound. "No, same old me. I just... I saw you sitting here and I couldn't believe it. I was just thinking about you the other day."

"Oh yeah?" I smirked. "Good things, I hope."

"Very good things," she whispered, biting her lip. She glanced around the coffee shop, then stepped closer to my table. "Do you... do you mind if I sit for a second?"

"Please," I gestured to the chair.

She sat down, leaning forward. Her tits rested on the edge of the table, squished together. She didn't seem to mind. She seemed to want me to see them.

"So what are you up to?" she asked, her eyes locked on mine. She was radiating heat. The program worked fast.

"Just working on some projects," I said vaguely, tapping the laptop. "Digital editing stuff."

"That sounds so smart," she gushed. "I always knew you were clever. In English class, I used to stare at the back of your head and wonder what you were thinking."

"I was usually thinking about you," I lied.

Her breath hitched. "Really?"

"Yeah. I always thought you were the hottest girl in school. Intimidating, but hot."

Chloe looked like she was going to melt into a puddle. Her legs squeezed together under the table.

"I wasn't trying to be intimidating," she murmured. "I was just... shy. Especially around guys I liked."

She reached across the table and touched my hand. Her fingers were trembling slightly.

"I'm so glad I ran into you, Leo. I've been... frustrated lately. Bored."

I looked at the bathroom door in the back of the shop. It was a single unisex stall.

"Bored, huh?" I lowered my voice. "Maybe you need some excitement."

She followed my gaze. Her eyes widened, darkening with dilated pupils. The implanted fantasy was triggering.

"I... I really need to use the restroom," she said, her voice shaking. "But I don't want to leave my stuff."

"Bring it with you," I said. I stood up. "I'll bring mine. We can... keep an eye on each other."

She stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "Okay."

We walked to the back. The hallway was narrow and empty. I opened the door and held it for her.

She stepped inside, clutching her book to her chest. She looked back at me, her eyes pleading, desperate.

I stepped in after her and clicked the lock.

The space was cramped, smelling of lemon cleaner and cheap soap.

"Leo," she gasped.

I didn't talk. I dropped my bag and grabbed her waist. I pulled her flush against me.

She dropped the book. Her arms went around my neck, and she kissed me.

It wasn't a tentative first kiss. It was a collision. Her tongue forced its way into my mouth, tasting of vanilla latte. She ground her body against mine, her massive breasts crushing into my chest.

"I've wanted this for so long," she moaned against my mouth. "In class, in the library… in a goddamn cafe bathroom! God, Leo, you have no idea."

I gripped her ass through her jeans. It was tight and firm. "Show me." I had no idea where this confidence of mine was coming from. Having this much control… fucking my own Mom last night in a way my father never could…

She pulled back, breathing hard. She grabbed the hem of her turtleneck and yanked it up.

She wasn't wearing a bra.

Her tits tumbled out, bouncing heavily. They were magnificent. Pale, soft, and impossibly huge on her small frame. The nipples were pink and puffy.

"They're so sensitive," she whimpered as the cool air hit them. "Please... touch them."

I didn't wait. I grabbed them, my hands sinking into the deep softness. They were heavy, warm weights in my palms. I squeezed, kneading the flesh.

"Oh god!" she screamed, her head falling back against the tiled wall. "Yes! Harder!"

She fumbled with my belt. Her hands were frantic. She unzipped my jeans and shoved her hand into my boxers.

"You're hard," she gasped, feeling me. "You're so hard for me."

She dropped to her knees on the dirty tile floor. She didn't care. The "stuck-up" Chloe was gone, replaced by this heat-seeking missile I had programmed.

She pulled my cock out.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

She took me in her mouth. She was enthusiastic, bobbing her head, making wet, sloppy noises that echoed in the small room. I looked down at her, at the way her hair fanned out, at her massive tits jiggling with the motion of her head.

"Stand up," I commanded.

She stood instantly, spit shining her lips.

I spun her around and bent her over the sink. She gripped the porcelain, arching her back, presenting herself to me.

I yanked her jeans and panties down to her ankles.

I lined up and shoved inside.

"FUCK!" she yelled, her voice echoing off the tile.

I slammed into her. The friction was incredible. She was tight, wet, and clamping down on me with every thrust.

I watched our reflection in the mirror above the sink. Me, gripping the hips of the smart girl, pounding her into submission in a coffee shop bathroom. Her new tits swung wildly beneath her, slapping against her ribcage.

"Is this what you dreamed about?" I growled in her ear.

"Yes! Yes! It's better!" she sobbed. "Use me, Leo! Please!"

I didn't hold back. I let the power rush through me. I was rewriting her world, filling her with a pleasure she had never known she wanted.

I grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. I pounded into her, harder and faster, until her legs started to shake.

"I'm cumming!" she shrieked. "Leo! Leo!"

She clamped down hard, her inner muscles spasming around my cock. The sensation pushed me over the edge.

I buried myself deep inside her and let go. I pumped wave after wave of seed into her, groaning as the pleasure fried my nerves.

We stayed like that for a minute, me leaning on her back, her panting into the sink.

I pulled out and fixed my clothes.

Chloe turned around. She looked wrecked. Her hair was messy, her lips were swollen, and her sweater was still bunched up around her neck.

She looked happy.

"Wow," she breathed, pulling her sweater down. "That was... intense."

"It was," I agreed, unlocking the door.

"Can we..." she hesitated, looking hopeful. "Can we do this again? Maybe at your place?"

I smirked. "I'll call you, Chloe."

I walked out of the bathroom, leaving her there to compose herself. I walked through the coffee shop, ignoring the stares of the people who had definitely heard the noises.

I felt invincible. I felt like a king.

-------------------

The high lasted all the way home. I walked through the front door, whistling, my mind already racing with possibilities for who I could edit next.

Then I walked into the kitchen.

Dad was sitting at the table. He was holding an envelope.

The whistling died in my throat.

"Sit down," he said. His voice wasn't loud. It was cold.

I sat.

He tossed the envelope across the table. It slid over the wood and hit my hand.

It was from the community college. A thin envelope.

"Rejected," Dad said. He sounded disgusted. "From community college, Leo. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get rejected from a school that accepts everyone?"

"I... I missed the deadline for the essay," I muttered. It was a lie. My grades just sucked.

"Excuses," he spat. He leaned forward, his face red. "Look at you. You wander around all day, wasting time, wasting space. When Luca was your age, he was interning at Google. He was building a future."

"I'm not Luca," I said, my voice rising.

"No, you're not," Dad sneered. He looked me up and down with pure disdain. "You're useless. You're a drain on me and your mother. You think playing on that computer all day makes you a man? You're a child."

He stood up, towering over me.

"Get a job, Leo. A real one. Or get out."

He stormed out of the kitchen, bumping my shoulder hard as he passed.

I sat there for a long time. The envelope lay unopened on the table.

Useless. A child.

I wasn't sad. I felt a cold, hard knot form in the center of my chest. It was anger. Pure, crystallized rage.

He had no idea. He had no idea who I was. What I could do.

I stood up slowly. I walked upstairs.

I went into my room and locked the door.

I sat at my desk and woke the monitor. 

ERROR: CHLOE VANCE OUT OF RANGE

I deleted Chloe's profile from the viewer.

I typed in a new name.

Clark Brown.

SCANNING...

SUBJECT FOUND.

Dad's avatar appeared. He was wearing his work clothes. I was so angry at my dad I wanted to ruin him. I wanted to use the program on him. But... my mom was still married to him. If I broke him, it would ruin her life too. I couldn't do that to her.

I looked out my window. Next door, Rob Gable’s car was in his driveway. I remembered how dismissive he was of his beautiful, revitalized wife last night. Arrogant, ungrateful men who thought they owned the world. They were all the same. Plus, messing with him feels a lot less chaotic than messing with my own family. It might give me some semblance of control.

I typed in a new name.

Rob Gable.

SCANNING...

SUBJECT FOUND.

Mr. Gable's avatar appeared. He looked balding and arrogant.

I looked at his stats.

Testosterone: High.

Dominance: High.

Empathy: Low.

Penis Size: 6.2 inches (Above Average).

I stared at the screen. He was proud of that. I knew he was. He walked around the neighborhood like he owned the place. Like he was the alpha.

I looked at his stats.

Testosterone: High.

Dominance: High.

Empathy: Low.

Penis Size: 6.2 inches (Above Average).

I stared at the screen. He was proud of that. I knew he was. He walked around like he owned the place. Like he was the alpha.

I moved my mouse to the Genitalia tab.

I hovered over Penis Length.

I could shrink it. I could make it a micropenis. I could make him impotent. I could humiliate him in the bedroom with Mom until he was a sobbing mess.

But that felt... small. That felt like a prank.

I wanted to break him. I wanted to dismantle everything he thought he was.

My mouse drifted up. Past the Body stats.

It hovered over the tab labeled SEX.

MALE / FEMALE.

A dark, twisted idea bloomed in my mind. An idea so much better than shrinking his dick.

-----------------------------

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