At twenty-five, Ethan had lost his way. Orphaned five years prior, he was coasting on his parents' inheritance and life insurance, a fund he’d stretched through a spartan, solitary existence. After college, he had retreated into the life of an otaku, his days and nights devoted to high-end gaming on his prized possession: a custom-built PC with the best graphics cards money could buy.
He rarely saw his friends, dodging invitations that would mean spending money on food or drinks. He preferred to funnel his cash into new games or subscriptions to his favorite porn sites. A self-proclaimed introvert, he was also a virgin, a fact he blamed on his awkwardness around women. The truth was, he simply preferred the incest and MILF genres he binged in private.
By 11:00 p.m., the glow of his monitor was the only light in the room. Bored with his game, he closed the application and opened an incognito browser window. He logged into a few of his preferred niche porn sites, navigating directly to the categories that held his interest.
Before long, the breathy moans of manufactured pleasure leaked from his headphones. He shifted in his chair, unzipped his pants, and began to slowly stroke himself, his rhythm matching the scene on screen where a young man took his mother from behind. The fantasy coiled in his gut, tightening with every movement until he finally came, spilling a sticky mess across his hand, his desk, and the floor beneath his chair.
As he was wiping himself down with a handful of tissues, a notification chimed from his speakers. He glanced at the monitor. A pop-up window had appeared over the video. "Congratulations! You've set the record for the most masturbation sessions while on our website."
Another line of text appeared below. "Please check your phone. We have sent you the IntiMate app as a reward for your accomplishment."
Ethan frowned and reached for his smartphone. True to the message, the IntiMate app was already there, its icon sitting on his home screen as if it had always been there.
He tapped it open and his breath caught in his throat. A profile page filled the screen—his profile. It listed his name, height, weight, stamina, endurance… even his dick size. Beside the stats stood a 3D avatar that was a disturbingly perfect model of himself.
He scrolled down, his eyes widening as he read the app’s description. It promised to pay him for every intimate encounter that ended in a "creampie." There were bonuses for making women orgasm. The more women he slept with, the more money he would earn.
His first thought was that it had to be a prank, some elaborate scam to phish for his financial details. He swiped away from the app, expecting to find a follow-up email or message with a catch, but there was nothing. He tried to uninstall IntiMate, but the icon wouldn't budge. He held it down, dragged it to the trash, and confirmed the deletion, but it simply reappeared. The app was stuck on his phone.
With a growing sense of unease, he decided to explore it further. He opened IntiMate again, looking for a help section or any support options. Instead, his gaze fell on a banner at the bottom of the screen labeled "Starter Pack." Intrigued, he tapped it, revealing a list of waiting rewards.
The first was "Peak Condition." Its description promised to enhance the host's physical attributes to their peak human potential, granting a perfect physique and a massive boost to stamina and endurance.
The second, "Insight Gaze," was an ability that would allow the host to perceive a woman's most sensitive spots, making it easier to bring her to orgasm.
The third was called "Fertility Toggle," which would grant the host the power to decide whether or not his seed could cause a pregnancy.
Above the list, a small notice was displayed: "To integrate the rewards or enable the skills, the host can click on the available rewards."
He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and tapped "Peak Condition." What did he have to lose? It was probably fake anyway. The thought of hackers barely crossed his mind; he was meticulous about his security, using a completely separate, burner phone for any online transactions. His inheritance was a significant sum, and he wasn't about to be careless with it.
The instant his finger made contact with the screen, an agony unlike anything he had ever known seized him. "Motherfucker, are you trying to kill me?" he screamed, his vision tunneling to black as he collapsed from his chair.
When he came to, the first thing he felt was the rough texture of the carpet against his cheek. His eyelids fluttered open. He pushed himself up, every muscle in his body aching yet feeling strangely powerful. Something was different. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom, flipping on the light to look in the mirror.
The face staring back at him was both his and not. "Motherfucker… who are you?" he whispered. He reached up and touched his cheek, and the stranger in the mirror mimicked the motion perfectly. It was his face, but refined, every feature sharpened and balanced into a level of handsomeness he’d never possessed. He looked down at his body. His stomach was flat and hard, etched with a defined six-pack. His arms and chest were leanly muscled, radiating a quiet strength. When he glanced lower, he saw that his once-modest six-inch dick was now a far more impressive nine. He stood straighter, feeling taller, and realized he was. He had been five-foot-eight his whole adult life; now he easily cleared six feet, probably six-two. The transformation was absolute.
This was no scam. This was real, a gift from some bizarre, perverted god. He hurried back to his bedroom, snatched his phone from the floor, and opened the app again, this time poring over every word. He found an "Achievements" tab that tracked the number of women who had become his "followers." The app explained the mechanic: each time he finished inside a woman, she would develop a growing urge to submit to him. After enough encounters, she would become his completely.
The number of times required depended on the woman’s willpower. A woman with a weaker will might surrender after three to five times. A strong-willed woman, however—a CEO or a politician—might require ten or even fifteen encounters before her defenses crumbled.
He then found a roadmap outlining various milestones for the number of followers he acquired: 10, 25, 50, 100, and so on, up to 1000. Each milestone promised a reward, with the prizes growing in power as he progressed.
The app described the reward system in glowing terms. Reaching a milestone would grant him a spin in a lottery, which could yield anything from attribute points and powerful charm effects to abilities like telekinesis or even mastery of combat and firearms. The possibilities were random, game-changing, and apparently endless.
He kept scrolling, his arousal mounting as he read through the other tasks. There were direct monetary rewards for specific achievements.
His eyes scanned a list that made his heart pound with ambition. There were payouts for ‘Cumming inside a virgin,’ ‘Cumming in married women,’ ‘Having a threesome,’ ‘Cumming in anal,’ and even one for ‘Mother and daughter together.’ Each one was a challenge, a fantasy, and a payday waiting to happen.
All he wanted now was to lose his virginity. As quickly as possible.