Her cunt twitched hard around his fingers, walls fluttering like a trapped bird.

Her toes curled, black nails scraping stone. She bit her lip until obsidian blood beaded.

Gezza smirked, yanked his fingers free with a wet schlick, and fisted his cock slick, throbbing, veins bulging .

One stroke, two, then he slammed back in to the root.

"Unngh—" He grunted, hips flush to hers.

"Looks like you're losing."

Miral's back bowed off the slab, spine cracking stone. Her hands clawed air, found only vines they wrapped her wrists, pinning her, leaves trembling.

Her moan turned feral, galaxies exploding in her eyes.

Gezza slammed home again, cock buried to the hilt, her walls spasming around him like a fist on fire.

"Feel that? That's me owning your magic cunt." His voice dripped sleaze, hips snapping slap-slap-slap, balls smacking her ass. "You're gonna cream all over this dick before I even think about nutting."

Her back bowed higher, vines thrashing like live wires. She clawed at nothing, obsidian blood streaking her lip.

He grinned, grabbed her thighs, and spread her wider (knees to her chest. Every thrust punched her womb, the wet schlick deafening.

"Fuck—fuck—Gezza—" Her voice cracked, galaxies shattering in her eyes.

He leaned in, teeth grazing her ear. "Say it. Say who's making you break."

She screamed, cunt clamping like a vice. Her body convulsed, juices gushing hot down his shaft, splashing the stone.

"You—" she choked, orgasm ripping through her, vines exploding in a frenzy of leaves and sap.

Gezza yanked out at the peak, cock throbbing purple. One stroke, two "Take it, witch—", and he erupted. Thick ropes of cum streaked across her belly, tits, face hot, sticky, claiming.

He milked every drop, smearing the head through the mess on her skin.

"That's how you win," he panted, cock still twitching. "Power's mine now.

Gezza seized the vines tangled in her matted hair and yanked her up. Her face flushed dark, streaked with cum and sap hovered inches from his.

"What's your name?" he snarled, voice raw and commanding.

The word spilled from her lips in ragged breaths as the aftershocks faded.

"Miral… Anarki."

The second it hit his ears, the cavern lurched.

His body ripped backward like a comet yanked by gravity, stone dissolving into black glass shards.

"What the—"

He screamed, voice shredding into void. The obsidian reality shattered, vines snapping, green fire snuffing out.

He was falling, heart hammering, cock still slick and twitching, the Playbook's pulse thundering in his chest.

Gezza gasped awake, lungs burning, the dark room snapping into focus.

He lay dead center of the chalked sigil, candles still flickering low, wax pooling like blood. Marie sat cross-legged beside him, sweater half-off, One hand held an open book; the other adjusted her glasses.

His gaze locked on the ceiling same cracked plaster, same shadows, but everything felt different. The air was thick, musky, laced with sex and ozone. His heart still thundered from the cavern.

Marie's eyes flicked down to his jeans soaked, clinging, a dark wet patch spreading from his crotch.

"Looks like you enjoyed your wet dream," she said, voice dry, lips twitching.

"Shit—" Gezza bolted upright, the sigil smearing under his palms. The Playbook lay closed beside him, leather warm, pulsing once like a heartbeat.

Gezza sat frozen, the sigil's chalk smearing under his bare knees. The Playbook pulsed hot against his thigh, like a second heart.

Marie's silence pressed heavier than the musk in the air.

He swallowed. "Uh… can I use your washing machine?"

She didn't look up from her book. "Laundry's down the hall. Knock yourself out."

He scrambled up, grabbed the playbook, jeans sticking to his skin, cum cooling. The hallway was dim, the washer's hum already running from someone else's load.

He yanked the jeans off, cock still half-hard and slick, and shoved them in with a splash of detergent.

Why's she so quiet? The thought itched. She didn't even ask if I got the name.. But he brushed it off.

The Playbook was still in his hand, leather fever-warm. He flipped it open to a fresh page, pen shaking.

MIRAL ANARKI

The ink sank into the paper like blood into snow.

The book flared gold, then white. Leather rippled, pages folding in onambulance themselves, edges sharpening into matte black metal. The cover snapped shut with a click, runes igniting across it in electric blue.

What the hell his going on? He stumbled back allitle.

A voice not Miral's, colder, systemic echoed inside his skull:

[SYMBIOSIS PROTOCOL INITIATED .]

[USER: GEZZA ]

[ENTITY: MIRAL ANARKI ]

[ACCESS LEVEL: ADMINISTRATOR. ]

Blue grids bloomed across his vision, overlaying the laundry room like augmented reality.

[SKILL TREE UNLOCKED ]

[ ILLUSION MATRIX: 100% ]

[ PHYSICAL AUGMENT: 100% ]

[ TOLL SYSTEM: DISABLED ]

The washer thumped.

He stared at the glowing book now a sleek, palm-sized slab. His jaw dropped his eyes fixed on the slab. "Holy shit."

The slab pulsed once in Gezza's hand, then unfolded like a hologram. Blue grids snapped into the air above the washer, rotating slowly.

"This shit crazy!" Gezza's chest swelled with euphoria, a laugh ripping out of him.

He read the glowing line again, voice cracking: "TOLL SYSTEM: DISABLED."

His grin split wide, teeth flashing in the laundry-room light. "YES!"

He paced the tiny space three steps, pivot, three steps, sneakers squeaking on linoleum. The slab pulsed in his fist like it was laughing with him.

Then he stopped, breath hitching.

This is all mine.

Gezza tapped the ILLUSION MATRIX branch. The grid zoomed in.

[ ILLUSION MATRIX (100%) ]

[Glamour Veil ]

Toggle any appearance —skin, height, voice, scent. Real-time. No cooldown.

Current preset : "Chad Prime" – 6'3", gym-cut, cologne of ozone and leather.

"I knew that," he muttered, hand on chin. "But wasn't it automatic before?"

He swiped deeper. A CUSTOMIZE slider popped up: height, muscle density, eye color, even cockprint in the jeans.

A slow, wicked grin spread. "So now I can build the fantasy."

He dragged the height to 6'5", pumped the shoulders wider, dialed the voice to a gravelly baritone.

Nice.

He flicked to the next node.

[Perception Rewrite]

One target: rewrite a single belief about you.

"She thinks I'm the love of her life."

Group: 5 max. Lasts 24 hrs.

"Now that's on a different scale," he whispered, eyes gleaming.

He swiped to the final branch.

[ Phantom Touch ]

Project sensation without contact (kiss on the neck, hand on thigh). Range: 10 ft.

A low whistle escaped him. "

Ten feet of invisible foreplay? Gezz."

The grid pulsed, waiting.

[ PHYSICAL AUGMENT (100%) ]

"Your body, my rules."

"Hell yeah, hear that, Miral? I'm in control now."

[Endless Stamina ]

No refractory. No fatigue. Heart rate capped at 110 bpm during sex.

[Adaptive Anatomy ]

Cock length/girth: dial 4–10 in.

Tongue: split, ridged, or 6 in long.

Semen: volume, taste, temperature (hot/cold).

Gezza barked a laugh. "WTF—why the fuck would I want to change my cum temperature?"

He swiped the slider anyway.

"Current: 98.6°F → 104°F (warm load)."

He snorted. "Gonna brand 'em."

Current load: 3× normal, pineapple-sweet.

Regen Surge.

Minor wounds heal in 30 sec. Bruises gone in 5 min.

[ DOMINION CORE (LOCKED – 0%) ]

"Control the Playbook itself."

Gezza's finger raked through greasy hair. "So I'm not in total control yet." He shrugged. "Still good for me, though."

He paused, sniffed. Urgh. The sour cocktail of sweat, cum, and sap hit him like a wall. He pinched his nose, muttering, "I stink."

The hologram hovered, blue grids pulsing.

He glanced back toward the living room. Marie was there curled on the couch, sweater slunged on her shoulder, book open on her lap, eyes tracking him over cracked glasses.

The slab's glow reflected in her lenses.

"Need a shower," he called.

"Bathroom's free," she said, voice flat. "Towels in the hall closet."

He stepped past her, the Playbook warm in his grip. Marie's gaze followed quiet, unreadable.

Gezza flicked the hologram shut. The slab folded back into the matte-black Playbook with a soft click.

The door creaked open. Steam still clung to the mirror from Marie's earlier shower. He dropped the Playbook on the sink, stripped, and stepped under the spray.

Hot water hit his skin scalding, perfect. He lathered up fast, soap sluicing off sweat, cum, sap, everything.

Marie's voice drifted through the door: "Make it quick. Water's not free."

"Yeah, yeah, water bill," he muttered, from the bathroom.

He smirked, rinsed, and killed the tap.

Towel around his waist, Playbook tucked under his arm, he stepped out.

Marie hadn't moved still on the couch, legs tucked, book open. But her eyes flickedily tracked him over the rim of her glasses.

"Your turn to talk," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "What's the something?"

Marie adjusted on the couch; the springs squealed like old hinges. The air still hung heavy with dust, vanilla, and the ghost of sex.

"You asked how I know magic," she said, voice low.

"Yeah," Gezza muttered, rubbing the towel over his damp hair. "Figured you read tons of ancient books. No surprise."

He padded toward the washer.

Marie's smile cut sharp. "What if I told you I was one of them?"

Her eyes locked on him

Gezza's heart skipped his eyes widened.

"Wait—what?"

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