The car jolted as Cassandra hit a pothole, the suspension groaning in protest.
"Are you okay, Shaun?" she called back, glancing in the rearview mirror.
Shaun didn't answer. He couldn't even if he wanted to. His eyes were locked on the glowing blue screen floating in front of his face, visible only to him.
They'd left home about five minutes ago. Cassandra had strapped him into his baby carrier in the back seat like she always did whenever they went shopping or to these damn doctor appointments. The carrier faced backward, giving him a view of nothing but upholstery and the occasional glimpse of his mother's eyes in the mirror.
[Congratulations! First Quest Completed Successfully]
[Current Stats]
Name: Shaun Smith
Age: 8 Months
Lust: 7
Strength: 3
Endurance: 0
Sin Committed: 5%
MILFs Conquered: 0
Currency: $1000 (Locked - Account Required)
'Currency locked until I can actually open a bank account. Great. At least it's building up.'
His lust had jumped from watching Clara in that bathtub. The system rewarded his voyeurism, and his body responded. Strength increased naturally—eight months of crawling and pulling himself up on furniture. Sin percentage climbed from months of nursing with decidedly un-infantile thoughts and the Clara situation. The rest would come with time.
The car lurched to a sudden stop.
Shaun's carrier rocked forward, then back. His mother's hands gripped the steering wheel tight, knuckles white.
"What the hell?"
Then the noise hit. Shouting, chanting, the rhythmic stomp of feet on pavement.
Shaun craned his neck. The protest stretched across the entire intersection, easily a hundred women strong. They filled the street from sidewalk to sidewalk, signs raised high.
"MY HUSBAND LEFT ME FOR A 22-YEAR-OLD!"
"40 ISN'T EXPIRED!"
"SINGLE MOMS DESERVE JOBS TOO!"
One woman near the front, maybe thirty with a loose ponytail, screamed into the morning air. "WE RAISED YOUR CHILDREN! WE GAVE YOU THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES!"
Next to her, a younger woman with mascara streaking down her cheeks: "FIFTEEN YEARS OF MARRIAGE! FIFTEEN FUCKING YEARS AND HE LEAVES FOR SOME COLLEGE SLUT!"
A gorgeous redhead in a form-fitting dress held her sign at an angle, her body swaying slightly. The kind of curves that made men stupid. Her eyes were hollow, haunted.
'What a fucking waste,' Shaun thought.
Then things escalated.
Three women near the center yanked their shirts up. Bare breasts appeared, swaying with the movement.
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU THREW AWAY!" one screamed, shaking her chest at passing cars.
More followed. Shirts lifted. Bras unhooked.
'Holy shit.'
Breasts everywhere. All shapes, all sizes. A woman with stretch marks. Another whose breasts bounced as she jumped. The raw desperation mixed with defiance made heat spread through him despite the absurdity of his situation.
Cassandra's hand suddenly appeared, covering his eyes completely.
"Don't look, baby," she whispered, her voice tight. "This isn't for you to see."
'Too late.'
Cassandra sat frozen, staring at the scene. Her expression shifted—recognition, maybe. Fear.
"They're protesting again," she said quietly, more to herself than to him. "Shouldn't waste their time. The world doesn't give single women a chance."
A sharp rap on the car window made them both jump.
A woman stood beside the driver's side door, face pressed close to the glass. Early forties, wild eyes, shirt reading "SINGLE MOM STRONG."
"You!" she shouted through the window. "You're a mother, aren't you? I can see the baby seat!"
Cassandra rolled down the window halfway. "Yes. What do you want?"
"Join us! You're one of us, aren't you? Single mother? Struggling?" Her hand shot through the opening, grabbing at Cassandra's arm. "Come on! Get out of the car! We need every woman who's been screwed over!"
Cassandra jerked her arm back. "Get your hands off me."
"Don't you care about your future? Your baby's future? We're fighting for—"
"I said get the fuck off my car," Cassandra snapped, cold and sharp.
The woman recoiled. "You're part of the problem. Women like you who just accept it—"
"I have a baby in this car and a doctor's appointment. Move. Now."
The woman stepped back, shaking her head. "Coward."
Cassandra sat perfectly still, breathing controlled but heavy. Then she turned to look at Shaun.
"I hope you'll be different when you grow up," she said quietly. "That you won't... that you'll be better."
Shaun smiled up at her and giggled. "Hehe."
She smiled back, some tension leaving her shoulders. "That's my sweet boy."
'All these women,' Shaun thought, watching the protesters through the windshield. 'Desperate, Lonely. Nobody wants them anymore.'
'These women need dick. Not protest.'
The thought settled in his chest, heavy and simple. Not pity. Not some grand mission. Just opportunity mixed with something he couldn't quite name.
'Wasted.'
Traffic finally started moving twenty minutes later. The protesters had shifted to the sidewalk, still chanting. Some women were pulling their shirts back down, others remained bare-chested in defiance. Police stood nearby with crossed arms.
Cassandra merged back into traffic, her jaw tight. She didn't say anything else, but Shaun could see the way her hands gripped the wheel. She understood those women. She was one of them.
The hospital came into view fifteen minutes later. Gray concrete and glass windows that reflected the morning sun.
Cassandra pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. She turned to look at Shaun.
"Ready to go in, sweetie?"
'Ready?' Shaun thought, his mind immediately conjuring images of Dr. Peterson's examining room. 'If that motherfucker tries to touch my butt today while "checking my development," I swear I'm going to shit directly into his fucking hands. See how he likes that kind of surprise examination.'
Shaun smiled his most innocent baby smile and kicked his legs happily.
"That's my brave boy," Cassandra said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Let's get this over with."
'Agreed,' Shaun thought grimly as they walked toward the hospital entrance. 'Let's get this nightmare over with.'