I lay there on her bed, staring at the ceiling, catching my breath while Elena disappeared into the bathroom.
I closed my eyes, focused inward, and called it up.
"Status."
The blue-tinted screen materialized behind my eyelids immediately.
The same interface I'd been staring at for two months now, but it never got old. There was something satisfying about seeing progress laid out in front of me like this.
Numbers didn't lie.
Notifications:
Three lines appeared at the top of the screen, stacking neatly one after another:
Made out with Yelena Belova... SEP +3
Received a blowjob from Yelena Belova... SEP +7
Had Vaginal Sex with Yelena Belova... SEP +18
I raised an eyebrow.
Yelena Belova? Not Elena.
Yelena.
I stared at the name for a long second, letting it sink in.
The system said Yelena Belova. Not Elena.
She lied about her name.
Well, no shit. That tracked.
A lot of girls lied about their names when hooking up. I'd seen it before. Hell, I'd done it before.
Gave fake names, fake numbers, whatever, kept things clean and simple. No strings, no way for past hookups to track you down later and complicate your life.
It was more of a logical thing to do.
People did it for all kinds of reasons. Privacy. Safety. Reputation. Sometimes they just didn't want their hookups bleeding into their real lives. One-night stands were supposed to stay in their own little bubble, separate from work, from family, from everything else.
Elena—Yelena—probably did it to protect her teaching career.
Queens had plenty of conservatives. Plenty of people who loved to judge. A teacher hooking up with a random bartender she met at a dive bar?
Yeah, that'd get her fired. Or at least make her life a living hell if the wrong parent found out and decided to make it their mission to ruin her.
I didn't blame her.
Smart move, honestly. Keep the fun separate from the consequences.
I shook my head and moved on. Didn't matter what her real name was. We weren't planning brunch. This was what it was—a good time with a hot woman who knew what she wanted. Nothing more, nothing less.
I scrolled down past the notifications to my main status screen.
Name: Rex Thrustmore
Age: 19
Skills: Human Tier [Expand]
Evaluation: A Naughty Human
Sex Energy Points: 35
[Lottery]
Thirty-five points.
I'd had seven points before tonight. Yelena just gave me twenty-eight.
Twenty-eight.
From one session of nothing that kinky, just normal sex.
I sat with that for a second, running the numbers again to make sure I wasn't reading it wrong.
Nope. Twenty-eight points.
MJ's last session in the storage room had netted me fourteen total. Blowjob, cunnilingus, the whole deal. Fourteen points.
Yelena just gave me double that.
Agreed that sex was also included, but still, it was more.
I leaned back against the headboard, frowning slightly.
MJ had already been giving me two to three times as many points as random hookups. She was special in the system's eyes, for reasons I still didn't understand.
But Yelena? How come she gave more points than MJ?
A blowjob from MJ gave me six points; Yelena gave me one extra point. Same with the make-out as well. And, normal sex with MJ gives me fifteen points; Yelena topped that by three points.
So it seems there's someone even more special than MJ, huh?
I filed that away in the back of my mind. Another mystery the system wasn't going to explain anytime soon.
But that was fine. I'd figure it out eventually. Or I wouldn't. Either way, I wasn't complaining about the points.
Speaking of which, thirty-five points total meant I finally had enough.
Enough to roll the Superhuman Tier lottery for the first time.
I felt a flutter of excitement in my chest, that buzz of anticipation you get right before something big happens. This was it.
Actual superhuman abilities were on their way, baby!.
Something much, much better than the mundane skills I had been getting till now.
Then a thought hit me, sudden and unwelcome.
What if it goes wrong?
What if I got some power I couldn't control? What if it just... activated without me meaning to, and I accidentally leveled her apartment?
I thought about that kid from the Alien Watch show. The one who slapped on some weird device and immediately caught fire because he didn't know what the hell he was doing.
I'm not ending up like that.
Right?
...
Right?
[A.N: Tell him to just freaking roll, dear readers.]
I hesitated for half a second, finger hovering over the mental button.
Then I thought, Fuck it.
I'd come this far after two months of saving points. I wasn't backing out now because of some hypothetical worst-case scenario.
If it went wrong, I'd deal with it... I guess.
I navigated to the Lottery screen and tapped Superhuman Tier.
A notification popped up instantly:
Roll Superhuman Tier Lottery?
Cost: 30 SEP
[YES] [NO]
I clicked Yes.
No hesitation this time.
The points vanished from my total.
SEP: 5
The screen shifted. There was that slot-machine feeling again, like the interface was spinning behind the scenes even though I couldn't see the motion. My pulse kicked up slightly from anticipation.
Then it locked in with a soft chime.
NEW Skill UNLOCKED:
LightForce Connection I
I blinked.
LightForce?
A description appeared below the power name, text expanding across the blue screen:
[Ability to create and manipulate energy constructs composed of solid light with conscious effort and focus. Also gives some lesser physiological effects.]
Energy constructs made of solid light, huh?
I could create weapons, shields, and tools as long as I focused hard enough. I could make a sword out of light and swing it around.
There must be some limitations, right? Like, it was LightForce Connection I right? That meant there were probably other levels of it too.
And the "lesser physiological effects" were vague, but I'd take them.
I wanted to test this ability. Right now. See what I could make. See how it felt to shape light with my hands.
Then I glanced around the room.
Yelena's apartment's furniture. Probably cost more than I made in three months.
Yeah, no.
If something went wrong—if the construct exploded, or I lost control or something—it wouldn't be my place getting trashed.
I'd wait.
Test it at home, in my own shitty studio apartment, where the worst I could do was put a hole in my own mattress.
If I fucked up there, at least it'd be my problem to deal with.
I closed the system interface and opened my eyes, blinking as the real world came back into focus.
And that's when I felt it.
A shift in my body. Subtle at first, but then stronger.
My heartbeat, which had been pounding from the sex, slowed. Steadied. Dropped to a calm, rhythmic pulse like I'd been lying here for an hour instead of two minutes.
My breathing evened out without me even trying.
And the sweat on my skin—
Gone.
Just... gone.
I ran a hand over my chest, my abs. Completely dry. Like my body had fast-forwarded through the entire cooldown phase in the span of a few seconds.
What the hell?
I sat up slightly, testing my limbs. There was no soreness or fatigue. In fact, I felt good.
Better than good. I felt energized. Like I'd just woken up from a full night's sleep instead of lying in a post-sex haze.
The system wasn't kidding about "lesser physiological effects."
And then I felt something else.
I glanced down.
My cock was hardening. Again.
Within seconds, I was fully erect. Rock-hard. Like I hadn't just finished a round minutes ago.
Was high libido part of the 'lesser ' effects, too?
The system description hadn't mentioned that specifically, but it made sense.
If my stamina recovery was enhanced due to the effects of this ability, or rather skill, if my body was regulating itself faster, then yeah, of course, my refractory period would be shorter.
Or maybe nonexistent.
I stared down at myself, half-amused, half-concerned.
This was either going to be a blessing or a serious problem.
Probably both.
The bathroom door opened.
I looked up.
Yelena stepped out, a white towel wrapped around her body, covering her from chest to mid-thigh. Another smaller towel was in her hands as she dried her blonde hair, rubbing it absently. Her skin was still damp, flushed slightly from the hot shower.
She wasn't looking at me yet. Eyes down, focused on the towel.
"I am done cleaning up," she said, her Russian accent still thick, words lazy and satisfied. "You can—"
Her gaze lifted and landed on me.
Specifically, on my cock.
Standing at full attention. Hard as a rock. Ready for round two like we hadn't just gone at it for twenty minutes straight.
Her words died mid-sentence.
For a second, she just stared. Then a slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
She unwrapped the towel from her body.
Let it drop to the floor.
Naked again.
Perky tits with hard pink nipples. Flat, toned stomach. Thighs that I could still feel wrapped around my waist.
She looked at me, eyes glinting with that same hungry look from before.
"I guess," she said, voice low and teasing, "I will have to clean up again."
.....
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