He needs to find out exactly what is going on.

I braced myself against the vanity, staring intently into Carla's bathroom mirror as I considered my options.

"Greg, this is it! She's willing, and you're able. Those soft hands of hers felt amazing every time they brushed against your package; Imagine how sweet that warm wet pussy will feel when it envelopes your cock. Fuck, if only you had gotten hard earlier. She would be sliding in up and down your pole right now," I stated directly into my reflection that was staring back at me in an impromptu pep talk.

My nerves steeled, and my mind made up I turned to leave the lavatory still basking in all my glory. No sooner had my fingers grazed the door handle than a rush of severe vertigo washed over me. I stumbled over to the wall and reached out blindly. Luckily, In my desperation, I was able to grasp the towel bar before I crashed to the floor. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my faculties returned to me. I stumbled around, bouncing off the wall a couple of times as my ability to be able to stand without the aid of a prop slowly came back. Unfortunately, as I fought off the wave of nausea brought on by my dizzy spell, I discovered that one casualty of my wooziness was my erection.

"No, no, no!!!" I cried despondently. My hand flew to my limp cock and started to furiously stroke it in the vain hope that it would spring back to life.

Eventually, I resigned myself to defeat; I released my hold on my member and got dressed. Upon exiting the bathroom, I found Carla was no longer in the apartment.

"It's for the best," I said with a sigh as I quickly made my way back to the street. I felt somewhat relieved not to have face the object of my burning desire after such a disappointing turn of events.

I pulled out my network connectivity device or NCD for short and plugged into the aether world. This elicited a few stares from some of the street artists. Most people in this area only had access to old-style mobile devices that could solely connect to the archaic world wide web, or at least what was left of it after the massive hack 2079. After a few moments of browsing for a close-by multi-transport vehicle, I hit upon a Tesla Series 7 Cloud Car.

I needed to go see the one person on this earth who could help me figure out what I did to myself by drinking that formula. And the only person who fit the bill was my mother Trista Hart. God, help me.

Shortly after placing my order, a sleek all-black vehicle pulled up to where I was standing. A side panel dematerialized, revealing a spacious interior. I slid onto a long bench seat clad in full-grain calfskin leather.

A robotic voice emanated from the speakers. "Please buckle your safety restraints. Due to a high volume of traffic on the surface roads, we will be accessing the skyway."

As smooth as silk the vehicle ignited it's thrusters and lifted off from the ground. I looked through the transparent floor to see several people gawking at me. No doubt, they had never seen a vehicle capable of flight in their lives. We merged onto the skyway without incident. While the freeway may still be an overcrowded nightmare, the sky lanes were genuinely opulent. Instead of moronic people who should not even be allowed to look at a car much less drive one, every vehicle up here was operated by the most sophisticated AI ever designed. I was sorry it was such a short trip that we would not need to break the sound barrier. I had always gotten a thrill from the reverberation of a cloud car as the shock absorbers dissipated the effects of the sonic boom.

We landed on the rooftop garage of my mother's scientific laboratory. Hart Genetics was a gigantic campus where revolutionary scientific breakthroughs took place with regularity. I had spent most of pre countup years here as mother poked and prodded me in hopes that I was free of the Shota Virus.

"I was always more a science experiment than a son," I blankly stated as I exited the vehicle and headed toward the executive transporter that would take me directly to my mother's office. I hung my head as my nerves frayed. How would my mother receive the news I was about to deliver?

I stood before the heavy oak doors that led to mother's office. I stared at the button that, when pressed, would let her know someone desired entrance. Finally, I worked up the necessary courage and reached out to request admission. Before, I could buzz myself in the door opened of its own accord. I reluctantly stepped inside.

"That will be all, Mia," my mother said to a gorgeous brunet. "My son has just arrived, and I'm certain whatever he has to say is of the utmost importance."

"Certainly Ms. Hart," the woman replied before turning to leave. She gave me an appreciative grin before closing the door behind her.

My mother rose from her leather chair; she sauntered around to lean against the front of her desk. She removed her glasses and laid them to the side before tossing her long raven black hair out of her face. Her pants suit hugged her svelte figure with perfection. Trista had used her knowledge of manipulating the human genome to ensure that she looked better than any woman half her age. "I thought you might stand in my foyer until the doors rotted off their hinges, but I don't blame you considering how the defense of your dissertation went."

"You know about that?" I asked sheepishly. I felt like a fresh thirteen-year-old and not a plus thirteen-year-old.

"Oh yes, Dr. Augustine called me as soon as you stormed out of the conference room," Trista answered before walking over to sit down beside me. "Oh, honey, we've been over this. The Shota Virus is incurable. If it weren't, I would have conquered it years ago."

"Yeah, well, I don't know about that..." I replied evasively.

Trista's eyebrow raised. "Greg Hart what have you done?"

"I drank it," I muttered.

"You what?" Trista asked her voice rising.

"The serum. I drank it," I replied more forcefully.

"So that's why you showed up here the way you did. I wondered why you had used your account to access a cloud card. Especially considering how the last time I talked to you, you disavowed all the wealth and privilege that I had given you," Trista stated rising to her feet.

"It has had effects on me. I've felt like I was on fire. My sex drive is through the roof. And... and... I got hard!" I shouted glad to have the burden off my chest.

"I've never known you to lie," Trista said, eyeing me curiously. "Greg I need to examine you. Stand up and strip."