Well I do have more neighbors...

The app's chime lingers in my ears like a siren's call, a velvet whisper threading through my blood, igniting every nerve with fresh vigor. My body hums, drained yet recharged. Spend me empty, and it floods me back full, potent and unyielding. Sarah's weight pins me to the sheets, her breath warm and even against my collarbone, body slack in the afterglow of her claiming. Her fingers drift lazily across my skin, nails grazing in lazy arcs, a silent vow of ownership. She's mine now, utterly, her mind woven tight into the protocol's web. But the hunger stirs again, sharper this time, the app pulsing on my phone like a heartbeat demanding more.

"Rest here, Sarah," I murmur, my voice low and commanding even in quiet. She stirs slightly, eyes fluttering half-open, glazed with devotion. "Dream of serving me." A faint nod, her lips curving into a sleepy smile, and she rolls aside, curling into the damp pillows without protest. Perfect obedience. I slip from the bed, pulling on my clothes with deliberate efficiency, the fabric clinging to my sweat-damp skin. Power twists in my chest, addictive and electric. I've tasted it, and nothing else will do. The screen lights up as I tuck the phone away. Harem Expansion. Novice Ascension. Claim her. Bind her. Multi-Weave awaits.

Across the hall, number 12B. Laura. The app's scan painted her vividly in my mind earlier. Curvy blonde, 28, that ripe milf allure screaming for unraveling. I step into the dim corridor, the door clicking shut behind me with a soft finality. The air smells faintly of coffee and laundry from Sarah's place, but it fades as I approach Laura's door. My pulse quickens, not with nerves, but anticipation. This is the game now, the weave waiting to tighten.

I knock three times, firm but casual, phone already in hand, screen dark. The door swings open after a moment, and there she stands, framed in the threshold like the app intended. Curly blonde hair tumbles past her shoulders, framing a face softened by early afternoon light. Full lips, hazel eyes widening slightly in surprise. She's in a loose tank top that hugs her ample curves, the swell of her breasts straining the thin cotton, and cutoff shorts riding high on thick thighs. A milkshake glass sweats in her hand, condensation beading down the sides.

"Oh, hi," she says, her voice warm but guarded, tilting her head. "You're... across the hall, right? I just moved in."

"Yeah, that's me," I reply smoothly, leaning against the frame with easy confidence. As she speaks, I angle my phone low, upside down like it's just hanging at my side, thumb brushing the power button. The camera activates silently, capturing her in a quick scan. App humming approval in my pocket. Profile loads instantly. Target Acquired. Laura. Age 28. Resistance Medium (Curvy Blonde Milf). Libido Baseline Stable. Weave Potential High.

Small talk flows easy, natural. I keep my gaze steady on hers. But my fingers dance over the hidden screen. Subtle command. Laura, a warm flush builds in your core. Your skin tingles, thoughts drifting to forbidden touches. You need this man to come inside. Enter. The weave threads out, invisible but insistent.

Her cheeks pinken almost immediately, a subtle bloom she tries to dismiss with a sip of her shake. "Would you like to come in? I can make you something to eat?" She steps aside, fanning herself lightly as if the apartment's too stuffy, though the air feels perfectly cool. Her nipples perk faintly against the tank, a telltale sign, and she shifts her weight, thighs pressing together. Flustered now, voice breathier. "It's... warm in here suddenly, isn't it?"

I smile, stepping past her into the sunlit living room, the door clicking shut behind me. The power surges again, veins alive with promise. She's cracking already, and I've barely begun.