Morning light crept through the curtains, pale and hesitant. Birds outside started their usual racket, chirping with the kind of enthusiasm only creatures without bills to pay could manage.
Bing!
[Wake up, host. Time for your training.]
Shaun groaned, pulling the pillow over his face. "Stop."
[Oh, I'm sorry. Did I interrupt your beauty sleep? It's not like you asked for power or anything.]
Shaun sat up, throwing the pillow across the room. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
[Plenty of things, host. But unlike you, I don't need eight hours of unconsciousness to function properly.]
Shaun rubbed his face, his eyes still heavy with sleep. The room came into focus slowly. Same walls, same furniture, same life he'd been building for the past eighteen years.
Eighteen years.
Eighteen years of the system pushing him. Training regimens that started simple when he was five and grew progressively brutal as he aged. Running, push-ups, sit-ups, squats. Year after year, the system never let up. By age ten, he was doing exercises that would make grown men quit. By fifteen, his routine would put athletes to shame.
The system had molded him, shaped him, turned a reincarnated man trapped in a child's body into something more. And now, finally, he was eighteen. An adult. Ready.
He stumbled to the window and yanked it open. Fresh air hit his face, cool and sharp.
[Happy eighteenth birthday, host.]
Shaun froze. "Oh shit. It's today."
Joy flooded his chest. He spun around. "Where's my present? You said there'd be a present."
[Why the rush, host? Afraid I forgot?]
Another notification materialized.
[Congratulations, Host! You have been given a 4-inch addition to your penis.]
[Gift from Angela Rose to commemorate the beginning of your true adventures.]
[Would you like to apply the enhancement to your current size?]
"Fuck yes."
[Enhancement will be applied in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...]
Pain exploded through his groin. Not pain. Agony. Like someone had grabbed his dick and was stretching it through a meat grinder while simultaneously setting it on fire.
"MOTHERFUCKER!"
Shaun collapsed, both hands clutching his stomach. He hit the floor hard, his vision swimming with stars.
The pain lasted forever. Or maybe thirty seconds. Time stopped meaning anything when your genitals felt like they were being reforged in hell's furnace.
Finally, mercifully, it stopped.
Shaun lay there, breathing hard, sweat soaking through his shirt.
"You didn't tell me it was going to hurt."
[My apologies for the oversight. Actually, no. No apologies. You clicked yes without asking questions. That's on you.]
Shaun pushed himself up slowly, testing his body's cooperation. Everything seemed intact. More than intact, if the system was telling the truth.
He needed to see.
He stumbled to the mirror hanging on the wall, his hands already reaching for his clothes. The shirt came off first. His reflection stared back at him.
Eighteen years of growth had done its work. Eighteen years of the system's relentless training schedule had carved his body into something worth looking at. Lean muscle defined his chest and stomach, not bulky but solid. The kind of physique that came from years of discipline rather than vanity. At six-foot-three, he finally had the height to match the presence he'd always imagined himself having.
His black hair fell across his forehead, messy from sleep but somehow working anyway. His jawline had sharpened over the past year, angular and strong.
He looked good. Better than good. The system had done its job.
But that wasn't what he needed to check.
His hands dropped to his shorts. He pulled them down, along with his boxers, and looked down.
"Holy shit."
It had been five inches before. Respectable. Average. Nothing to write home about but nothing to be ashamed of either.
Now it was nine.
Nine inches.
Shaun reached down slowly, his fingers wrapping around the shaft. It felt strange. Foreign. Like he was touching someone else's body part.
'Is this what being gay feels like? Holding another dude's dick?'
He shook his head, clearing the weirdness. It was his body, his dick. Not stolen, not borrowed. His. And this was exactly what he'd wanted since the moment he realized the system could change him.
A grin spread across his face. He started moving, a weird little dance that made his dick bounce with each shake of his hips.
"Time to explore the MILFs," he said to his reflection, his voice filled with anticipation. "Time to really get started."
He kept dancing, lost in the moment, his body moving with the kind of joy only complete certainty could bring.
Outside his room, footsteps approached. Quiet at first, then more deliberate.
Cassandra and Clara stood in the hallway, both grinning like conspirators. Cassandra held a birthday cake, eighteen candles already lit, the flames flickering. Clara had her phone ready, prepared to capture the moment.
"My baby is a man now," Cassandra whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Tears were already forming at the corners of her eyes.
Clara smiled, her hand on the doorknob. "He's going to love this. Ready?"
"Ready."
They pushed the door open, voices rising in perfect unison. "Happy birthd..."
Both women froze mid-word.
Shaun stood in front of the mirror, completely naked, his nine-inch dick on full display, still mid-bounce from whatever celebratory dance he'd been doing. His hands were raised above his head in victory, his face lit with pure joy, completely oblivious to his audience.
Time stopped.
Clara's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Her eyes, against every instinct telling her not to look, dropped downward for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to the ceiling.
"Oh damn," she breathed, her voice barely audible.
Cassandra's face went through several emotions in rapid succession. Shock. Horror. Confusion. And then something that looked suspiciously like she was trying very hard not to laugh or cry or possibly both.
The cake tilted dangerously in her hands.
Shaun's brain finally caught up to reality. His arms dropped. His eyes met theirs. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
"I...." Cassandra started, then stopped. She looked at Clara, who was now staring intently at the hallway wall like it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. "We should..."
"Yes," Clara agreed immediately, still not looking anywhere near Shaun's direction. "We should definitely..."
"Go," Cassandra finished.
She grabbed Clara's arm and yanked her backward with more force than necessary. Clara stumbled, nearly dropping her phone. The door slammed shut so hard the frame rattled.
From the hallway came muffled voices.
"Did you see..."
"We're not talking about it."
"But he was..."
"Clara, we are NOT talking about it."
"Cassandra, I'm just saying, that's not..."
"CLARA."
Their footsteps retreated down the hallway, rapid and urgent.
Shaun stood frozen in front of the mirror, his arms still half-raised, his reflection staring back at him with the exact expression of someone whose mother and aunt just saw him naked on his eighteenth birthday.
"Oh, fuck."
---
The next few days became a masterclass in selective amnesia. By the time his actual birthday dinner rolled around that evening, they'd all agreed without saying a word to pretend nothing happened. Cassandra made his favorite meal. Clara gave him shit about forgetting his water bottle again. They laughed, ate cake, and life moved on.
Normal. Or close enough.
The morning after, Shaun laced up his running shoes and headed out before dawn. Fifteen kilometers, the system's usual torture routine, plus all the other bullshit it demanded. By the time he finished, the sun was blazing overhead and his legs felt like they'd been replaced with jelly.
He collapsed onto a park bench, reaching for his water bottle.
Empty.
Of course it was empty.
"Fuck," he muttered, staring at the traitorous bottle.
"Do you want some water?"
The voice was soft, familiar. Shaun looked up, squinting against the sun.
A figure stood in front of him. Curves that defied logic, a bottle of water extended toward him.
His eyes adjusted.
Miss Brooks.
She wore tight yoga pants that hugged every curve and a sports top that left little to the imagination. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, a few strands stuck to her neck with sweat. Eighteen years hadn't changed her much. She was still hot as hell, her body maintaining that perfect balance between fit and soft that made men look twice.
'Still got it,' Shaun thought, his eyes taking in the sight. 'Damn, she really still got it.'
"Hi, Shaun."
He took the bottle, too thirsty to be polite about it. He drank half in one go.
"Good morning, Miss Brooks. I didn't know you jogged. Would've called if I'd known."
She smiled, sitting down beside him. "Just felt like moving today." Her eyes traveled over him, lingering slightly. "You've gotten so tall. When did that happen?"
"Gradually," Shaun said, finishing the water. "Thanks for this. You saved my life."
"Don't be dramatic." Her smile widened. "Though you do look like you pushed yourself hard. How far did you run?"
"Fifteen kilometers. Plus the other stuff."
"Jesus. No wonder you're dying." She stretched her legs out, her body moving in ways that made Shaun very aware of her proximity. "Oh, and happy birthday. Eighteen now, right?"
Shaun felt warmth spread through his chest. "You remembered."
"Of course I remembered. You've been my neighbor since you were born." She paused. "You're really all grown up now. It's strange. I still remember carrying you when you were tiny."
"Time moves fast," Shaun said. "How are Mira and Mara doing? Haven't seen them around lately."
Miss Brooks's expression softened, a genuine smile replacing the polite one. "Oh, their aunt called yesterday. She's keeping them for the week. Wanted to spend some quality time with them before school starts up again." She laughed softly. "She sent me pictures this morning. They're absolutely covered in ice cream and looking very pleased with themselves."
"Sounds like they're having the time of their lives."
"They are. Honestly, it's nice having a little break. Don't get me wrong, I love my girls, but..." She trailed off, her smile becoming a bit wistful. "Sometimes it's good to breathe for a minute."
"I get it. Nothing wrong with that."
Miss Brooks stood, brushing off her pants. "Well, I should finish my run before it gets too hot. Take care of yourself, Shaun."
"You too, Miss Brooks."
She started walking away, then stopped and turned back. "Shaun?"
"Yeah?"
She hesitated, then smiled. "Are you free tonight? I'd like to make you dinner. For your birthday. I know it's late, but I didn't get a chance yesterday, and I feel bad about that."
Shaun's heart kicked. "I'd love that. What time?"
"Seven?"
"Perfect."
She jogged away, her figure disappearing around the corner of the park path. Shaun watched until she was completely out of sight, then stood, a new energy replacing his exhaustion.
---
Inside his room later, water from the shower drummed against tile. Steam filled the space. Shaun stood under the spray, letting it wash everything away.
"System."
[Yes, host?]
"Any updates on the statistics?"
A chart materialized through the steam.
[Current Statistics:]
[Divorce Rate Among Women 30-45: 69%]
[Job Rejection Rate for Women Over 35: 73%]
[MILFs Who Haven't Experienced Sexual Pleasure in Over a Year: 82%]
Shaun studied the numbers, his jaw tightening. Eighty-two percent. Over four out of every five women hadn't felt pleasure in over a year. The number hit him harder than the others.
"I need to move faster."
[Agreed. Which is why...]
Another notification appeared, pulsing with urgency.
[New Quest Available]
[Objective: Successfully have sexual relations with a MILF. Make her feel desired, pleasured, and alive. Add her to your MILF Slot upon completion.]
[Rewards: Random Skill Unlock, $5,000, +10 Lust Points]
[Time Limit: None]
[Accept Quest?]
Shaun stared at the words, water running down his face. His mind worked through the implications. Miss Brooks. Tonight. Dinner. The twins away for a week. Her husband traveling three weeks out of every month.
Everything was lining up.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Accept."
[Quest Accepted. Good luck, host. Try not to embarrass yourself.]
Shaun turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel. Tonight would be the beginning of something. He could feel it.
Seven o'clock couldn't come fast enough.