The Vision

As the conversation drifts into technical specs and lenses, Tyler momentarily tunes out his sisters' excitement. He reaches for the salt, and as his hand passes near Cherie’s, you strike.

You don't flood the whole room; you pinpoint his optic nerve.

For a sharp, five-second window, the table, the plates, and the clothes disappear. Tyler sees his mother kneeling on her bed, her skin glowing, her body completely exposed. Her wedding ring sparkles as she roughly squeezes her breast, her other hand holding the glass dildo inside her. Her back is arched, her head thrown back, her eyes closed and mouth open—the exact look she had in the bedroom earlier as you gave her the enhanced orgasm.

The vision is so high-definition he can see the faint sheen of sweat on her collarbone and the way the violet aura of the house clings to her curves. It is a visceral, graphic reminder that the "Taboo Suite" isn't just a lines of code; it is a destiny.

Tyler’s grip on the salt shaker tightens until his knuckles turn white. He blinks, and the vision snaps back to Cherie in her silk wrap dress, asking Chad if he wants more wine.

"Tyler? You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost," Chad jokes, chuckling at his own wit.

"I'm fine," Tyler says, his voice a low, dark rasp. He looks at his mother, the "Blood-Bond" protocol now burning in the back of his mind like a hot coal. "I was just... thinking about the composition. I think the new camera is a great idea, Dad. I'll make sure we get the best results possible."