Chapter 28: Rise of the Cocksmith

Chapter 28: Rise of the CocksmithSo I became the living embodiment of what happened when genetic perfection met sexual expertise. That was... actually pretty fucking cool. [This enhanced form serves as your alternate identity, protecting your civilian life while allowing you to fulfill your mission. Consider it similar to Clark Kent and Superman, but instead of fighting crime, you were fighting sexual dissatisfaction.] Superman analogy worked for me, especially since my only kryptonite would apparently be satisfied women. The system then launched into the most comprehensive orientation session in the history of supernatural power acquisition. Unlike the rushed, vague explanations most protagonists got, this felt like attending university for advanced seduction techniques. I learned that I could shift between forms at will without the excruciating pain of that night’s initial transformation. The system described it as easy as changing clothes, which sounded infinitely better than feeling like my skeleton was being rebuilt by angry construction workers. No more transforming in agony like some kind of discount werewolf. That was already a significant improvement over most supernatural abilities. The mission structure was beautifully simple: satisfy women, earn system points, use points to buy enhancements or convert to actual money. It was like having a job where the work was something I actually wanted to do, and the payment came in both supernatural abilities and cold hard cash. This was literally the best career opportunity in human history. I got to help people and get paid for it. [You must maintain your Peter Carter identity,] the system warned. [This is non-negotiable. Your enhanced form exists to improve your normal life, not replace it. Think of it as having a very successful side business that funded your regular existence.] That actually made perfect sense. Use supernatural abilities to live better as a normal person, rather than abandoning humanity entirely. Then came the skill download, and it was like someone installed the complete Encyclopedia Britannica directly into my brain, except instead of random historical facts, it was every useful ability known to mankind. Cooking skills that would make celebrity chefs weep with envy downloaded instantly. Driving abilities spanning everything from motorcycles to luxury cars to planes, boats, and trucks installed themselves like software updates. Combat training flowed into my muscle memory—not for violence, but for confidence and presence. Musical talent, languages, advanced IT skills, trading strategies, negotiation tactics, memory techniques, even sommelier knowledge for wine tasting. Details for the skills acquired include: Gourmet Cooking – Five-star chef-level mastery. I could walk into Hell’s Kitchen and make Gordon Ramsay cry tears of joy. Flawless Driving – Not just cars. Everything. Motorcycles, helicopters, tanks, yachts, jet skis, spacecraft if I find one. If it moves, I can pilot it like I was born doing it. Advanced Combat – Not for starting fights, but ending them. Lethal precision, perfect control, all without losing my cool. Musical Mastery – Instruments? All of them. I could probably seduce someone with a harp solo if needed. Language Fluency – Speak, read, and write in over two hundred languages, with the perfect accent. Financial Dominance – Day trading, crypto, stock markets, real estate. I could walk into Wall Street and retire before lunch. IT and Hacking – I could crack the Pentagon with a library computer. Social Psychology & Seduction Theory – I understand people before they even speak. Attraction, intention, body language—I can read and respond like a goddamn oracle. Sommelier Knowledge – I can swirl wine and name its region, vintage, and probable mood when bottled. And more. The system doesn’t even try to list everything. It just ends with a smug: Etc. I’ve basically become the most competent man on Earth overnight, except instead of selling beer, I’d be giving orgasms and liberating women like I’m some horny Jesus now. Then it hits me: I’m not just the guy who gives great sex. I’m now the man who can do anything—cook, fight, trade, seduce, pilot, hack, entertain, and probably lead a nation if I felt like it. Now that’s what I call a glow-up. [Your active abilities include: Magical Fingers: Touch that could bring women to climax through pure technique and supernatural intuition. Eyes: Visual identification of erogenous zones and pleasure preferences. Complete Toggle: Total command over your sexual functions—timing, volume, fertility control. Cock Control: Size modification to match any partner’s preferences and physical limitations.] These sounded like cheat codes for sex. I’d basically been given God Mode for human sexuality. [Your passive abilities included: Infinite Stamina: Unlimited endurance for any sexual encounter, regardless of duration or intensity. Supernatural Charisma: Maximum appeal without mind control—genuine attraction, not artificial manipulation.] I was about to become the living embodiment of every porn video fantasy, except with actual emotional intelligence and respect for consent. "One question," I interrupted, because this was important. "What about consent and free will? I don’t want to be some kind of supernatural rapist who manipulates women into doing things they don’t actually want." [The system was designed specifically to enhance existing desires, never to create artificial ones,] it responded immediately. [Your abilities only work on women who are attracted to you or interested in sexual experiences. The enhanced appeal helped them recognize their existing interest but could not force attraction where none existed.] Thank the gods. The last thing I wanted was to become some kind of sexual predator with cosmic backing. [You’re awakening now,] the system announced, and the white space began to fade around me like someone was adjusting the brightness settings on reality. [Good luck, Host. You will never return here. Go forth and liberate the sexually frustrated masses—they desperately needed what you could provide.] [Final warning: Your first transformation was—] But the message cut off as consciousness yanked me back toward the real world, leaving me with enough power to rewrite the sexual satisfaction statistics of the entire planet and absolutely no idea what that final warning was supposed to tell me. Time to find out what being a supernatural sex god actually entailed. And apparently, someone saw the whole transformation process, which probably meant my secret identity lasted all of five minutes or less. This was either going to be the greatest adventure in human history, or the most complicated explanation I’d ever had to give to Madison Torres.