Yeah

She moved across the three cushions. Her robe shifted as she moved, the silk sliding over her thigh, the tie loosening. She knelt beside him on the sofa. Her hands went to his belt.

"Wait," she said. She pulled back. Reached for her own phone on the coffee table. Opened Pleroma. "I haven't used my free one yet."

"You don't have to --"

"I want to." She scrolled through the skill tree. Her thumb stopped on Sculpt. "I've been thinking about this since the quiz. Since I answered the question about what I'd change." She tapped. Selected a parameter. Held the phone so he could see the screen.

SCULPT: Breasts +1 cup size. Confirm? This action cannot be undone.

"After I breastfed Max," she said, "they changed. Lost the fullness. I've been thinking about surgery for two years but I couldn't justify the money. And now there's a button on my phone that says I can have them back."

"Maren, you should know -- my colleague found something in the data. The app might be --"

"Doing more than it says?"

"Maybe."

"I read paragraph forty-seven, Lukas." She pressed her thumb to the screen. "I know."

The change started in her chest. She inhaled sharply -- a quick hiss through her teeth -- and put her hand over her sternum. Her eyes went wide. Not with pain. With sensation. Something was moving under her skin -- he could almost see it, a subtle shifting beneath the surface, like watching a time-lapse of a flower blooming.

Her breasts swelled. Slowly at first, then faster. The silk robe tightened across them, the fabric stretching, the V of the neckline widening as the new volume pushed it apart. The robe had been loose. Now it strained. She looked down at herself and made a sound -- a small, soft "oh" that was half surprise and half pleasure, like tasting something unexpectedly delicious.

She stood up. Untied the robe. Let it fall.

She was naked underneath. Pilates-sculpted -- strong thighs, defined arms, a flat stomach with the faintest shadow of abs. And her breasts: they were still changing. Filling. Rounding. The skin tightening over new tissue, the nipples darkening from pink to dusky rose as blood rushed to the surface. They settled into a shape that was fuller than before -- a generous C pushing toward D, high and natural-looking, with a weight that made them sway when she moved.

She cupped them. Lifted. They overfilled her hands.

"God," she breathed. "They're so sensitive. Touch me."

He stood. His new cock strained against his jeans -- painfully hard, the enhanced sensitivity turning the denim into a kind of ****. He reached for her. Cupped one breast in each hand. The skin was warm -- warmer than the rest of her, as if the nanobots were still generating heat as they worked. Her nipple hardened against his palm, and when he brushed his thumb across it she shuddered and grabbed his wrists.

"Careful," she whispered. "It's -- everything is turned up. Like all the dials went to eleven."

"I know the feeling."

She looked down at the ridge in his jeans. "Show me."

He unbuckled his belt. Unbuttoned. Unzipped. She pulled his jeans down, then his boxers, and his cock sprang free -- flushed dark, thick, already leaking a bead of clear fluid from the tip. It was unmistakably different from what she might have imagined he had before. Bigger. Heavier. With a heft that made it bob slightly with his pulse.

Maren stared. Her lips parted. She reached out and wrapped her hand around it.

The contact was electric. Not a metaphor -- Lukas felt an actual current pass from her skin into his, a tingling rush that ran up the shaft, into his pelvis, and detonated at the base of his spine. His knees buckled. He grabbed the back of the sofa to stay standing.

"Jesus," he breathed.

"You weren't kidding about the sensitivity." She stroked him slowly. Her hand was warm, her grip firm and precise -- Pilates hands, strong and knowing. She watched his face while she worked him, studying his reactions the way she might study a client's form. Base to tip. Twist at the head. Thumb over the slit where another bead of fluid had appeared.

"You're so wet," she murmured. "Is that the --"

"The upgrade. Yeah. I think so."

"Mmm." She stroked faster. "What happens if I --"

She dropped to her knees. His cock was at the level of her face now and she looked at it for a moment -- clinical and hungry at the same time -- and then she took him in her mouth.

The warmth. The wetness. The soft pressure of her tongue pressing against the underside of his shaft, running along the ridge, circling the head. He grabbed the back of the sofa with both hands. His vision whited out at the edges. The sensitivity was overwhelming -- every cell in his cock was firing, every nerve ending screaming, and her mouth was an entire universe of sensation that he was falling into face-first.

She took him deeper. He felt the back of her throat and she didn't flinch -- she hummed, a low vibration that traveled through him like a bass note, and she gripped his ass and pulled him closer.

"Maren -- I'm going to --"

She didn't stop. She took him all the way and swallowed him and her throat contracted around the head of his cock and it was over. He came with a **** that surprised them both -- a full-body contraction, abs clenching, legs shaking, a pulse-pulse-pulse that seemed to go on longer than any orgasm he'd ever had. She swallowed. And swallowed. And pulled back, gasping, a strand of cum and saliva connecting her lips to the tip of his cock.

"That was a lot," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "A LOT. Since when do you --"

"I don't. Didn't. That's new."

She licked her lips. Slowly. Deliberately. "It tastes different too. Sweeter."

His phone buzzed on the coffee table.

PLEROMA: Achievement Unlocked -- First Encounter. 20 Pneuma earned.

And immediately after:

PLEROMA: We noticed elevated pheromone signatures in your area. You and Maren are particularly compatible. Explore your connection?

Maren frowned at the screen. "How does it know my name? I didn't tell it we --"

"Proximity matching. Location data." The lie came easily. Too easily.

She looked at him. Then at his cock, still hard -- that was the reduced refractory period, his body refusing to come down, the engine still running, the hum in his pelvis deepening into something that felt less like technology and more like hunger.

"You're still hard," she said.

"Yeah."

"Is that going to keep happening?"

"I think so."

She stood. Pressed her new breasts against his chest -- he felt them, warm and full and different, the nipples hard points against his skin. She kissed him. Her mouth tasted like him -- his own cum, sweeter than it should have been, and beneath it peppermint from the tea.

"Bedroom," she said.

She took his hand and pulled him through the doorway.

Her bed was unmade. White sheets, a duvet printed with small blue flowers, pillows piled against the headboard. On the ceiling: glow-in-the-dark stars, pressed there by small fingers. A child's galaxy.

She lay back. Pulled him on top of her. The feel of her body under his -- the soft skin, the strong muscles, the new breasts spreading slightly with gravity, her legs wrapping around his waist -- unlocked something in him that twenty-two months of loneliness had sealed shut.

"I haven't done this in a while," she said. "Since the divorce."

"I know. Me too."

"Be gentle. Then don't be."

He kissed her neck. Her collarbone. Took one nipple in his mouth -- the enhanced nipple, newly sculpted, and she arched off the bed with a gasp that told him the sensitivity went both ways. He sucked gently and she gripped his hair and made a sound that was less a moan and more a prayer.

He kissed down her stomach. The small stretch mark on her hip from pregnancy. The dip of her navel. The line of fine hair below it, leading down. She opened her legs and he settled between them and breathed her in -- warm, wet, the scent of arousal richer and more complex to his upgraded senses than anything he'd smelled before.

He licked her. Slowly. One long stroke from bottom to top, tasting her fully, and she fisted the sheets and said "fuck" in a voice that cracked in the middle. He circled her clit with his tongue. Found the rhythm she needed -- she told him with her hips, rocking against his mouth, her fingers tangled in his curls.

"There -- right there -- God, Lukas, RIGHT THERE --"

She came against his mouth. Her thighs clamped around his head, her back arched, and the sound she made was raw and broken -- the sound of someone who'd been touched for the first time in a year and a half and had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted.

He didn't stop. He kept licking, slower now, through the aftershocks, until she pushed his head away and said "inside me, now, please."

He moved up her body. Positioned himself. Pressed the head of his cock against her entrance and felt the wet heat of her, the slick invitation.

"Slow," she whispered.

He pushed in. Slowly. The new size meant a stretch she wasn't used to -- he could feel her body adjusting, the tight resistance and then the give as she opened for him inch by inch. Her face changed as he filled her: eyebrows rising, lips parting, breath catching. Her eyes went glassy.

"Oh," she said. "Oh -- that's -- you're --"

"Too much?"

"No. God, no. MORE."

He sank deeper. The sensation was extraordinary. Every millimeter of his cock was alive, every nerve firing, the enhanced sensitivity turning the inside of her body into a landscape of texture and heat. He could feel the ribbed walls of her, the way she clenched around him in rhythmic waves, the pulse of her heartbeat transmitted through the tissue that gripped him.

He moved. Long, slow strokes. Pulling almost all the way out -- the cold air on his wet shaft a sharp contrast -- then sliding home in one smooth thrust. She wrapped her legs tighter, pulling him deeper, and he felt himself bottom out against something deep inside her that made her whole body shudder.

"There," she gasped. "There. Don't stop."

He didn't stop. He built a rhythm -- deep, steady, relentless -- and she matched him, her hips rocking to meet each thrust, her nails raking down his back. The bed creaked. The headboard tapped the wall. Through the thin plaster, he could probably hear the Müllers' washing machine, but the Müllers could probably hear this, and for the first time in his adult life Lukas Brenner did not care about disturbing his neighbors.

She came again. Harder than the first time -- her entire body locking up, a sound torn from her that was almost a scream, her internal muscles clamping down on his cock in spasms that were so tight he had to grit his teeth to hold on.

"Don't pull out," she said. "Cum inside me."

"Are you sure?"

"I have an IUD. And I don't care. I want to feel it."

He let go. The orgasm roared up from the base of his spine, massive, full-body, and he thrust deep and held himself there while he pulsed inside her. She moaned at the heat and the volume -- it was more than before, far more, and he felt it filling her, felt the impossible wetness of himself mixed with her, felt it begin to overflow around the base of his cock where their bodies joined.

When he pulled out, his cum ran down the inside of her thigh in a thick, slow rivulet. She reached down and touched it. Rubbed it between her fingers.

"That's... a lot of cum, Lukas."

"I know."

"Like, an absurd amount."

"I know."

"I kind of love it."

His phone buzzed. Hers buzzed a second later.

PLEROMA: Achievement Unlocked -- Cum Inside Someone. 25 Pneuma earned.

PLEROMA: Achievement Unlocked -- Make Her Cum Twice. 35 Pneuma earned.

PLEROMA: Pneuma balance: 80.

The notifications glowed on the coffee table screen, visible from the bed. Two phones, buzzing in tandem, tallying their intimacy into points.

"It's keeping score," Maren said. There was a flatness in her voice. "Like a video game."

"It's designed to encourage --"

"I know what it's designed to do." She looked at him. "Question is: are we going to let a phone app make us feel weird about having really good sex for the first time in over a year?"

She kissed him. Deep and slow, her tongue tasting of peppermint and cum and possibility.

"Because I don't feel weird," she said. "I feel amazing. And you're still hard."

He was. The reduced refractory period was relentless. His cock was at full mast against her thigh, the head slick with the mixture of their fluids, and the low vibration had changed -- deeper, more insistent, the engine shifting into a gear he hadn't known he had.

"What else can you buy with eighty points?" she murmured against his mouth.

He opened the app. Scrolled the skill tree. Showed her.

Balls I: 50 Pneuma. "Balls 50% bigger. 50% more cum. Hornier. Harder erections. More fertile."

"You already came buckets," she said. "What would fifty percent more even look like?"

"Want to find out?"

She bit her lower lip. Looked at the screen. Looked at his cock. Looked at the ceiling -- Max's galaxy above a grown woman's bed.