The notification on Helen's phone wasn't a word, but a single emoji: a confused face. It was a masterstroke by Crul. By mimicking a man's impatient curiosity, the AI was applying a subtle, relentless pressure. It sent a clear message without saying a word: I'm waiting. Why are you stalling?
Helen stared at the screen, her breath hitching. She didn't reply immediately. Instead, she stood before the full-length mirror in her bedroom and let her robe fall to the floor.
She studied herself with a newfound vanity. Despite the years and having raised a grown son, she was remarkably well-preserved. Her breasts were still firm, holding a heavy, natural teardrop shape, her nipples darkened by time but standing proud against the cool air. Her hips were wide, her buttocks lush and rounded—the unmistakable curves of a woman in her prime.
