Chapter 2 — The Nurse
The hospital smelled of disinfectant and old fear.
Marcus Hale walked the corridor with a new lightness in his step that still felt borrowed. Two years younger. The system had kept its word. His joints no longer ground like gravel. The constant dull pressure behind his eyes had eased. Even the chronic cough that had followed him for months had thinned to almost nothing. He looked like a man in his late fifties now, and he felt it. Yet the diagnosis remained. Ten months had become twelve, perhaps fourteen if the next rewards came quickly enough. The clock had not stopped. It had only slowed.
He found the sample processing room on the third floor, exactly where the receptionist had directed him. The door was half open. Inside, a young woman in pale blue scrubs stood at a steel counter, labelling vials with neat, efficient movements. Dark hair pinned back. Clean profile. The name badge on her chest read Elena Brooks, RN.
Marcus paused in the doorway. Another tenant. Sophie had mentioned her once, in passing: the nurse who lived in the basement flat and paid her rent on time, the quiet one. He had never paid her much attention. Now the system’s logic pulsed at the edge of his thoughts. Alter the heart rate. Collect the years.
He cleared his throat. “Nurse. Is this the sample processing room?”
Elena turned. Her eyes were a clear, steady grey. For a moment she simply looked at him, professional assessment sliding over his face, his posture, the faint colour that still lingered in his cheeks from the night before. Then recognition flickered.
“Yes, sir.” She set the pen down. “Marcus. I never expected to run into you here.”
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a soft click. The room was small, windowless, lit by the hard white of overhead fluorescents. A single hospital bed occupied one wall. A curtain could be drawn around it. Privacy, of a sort.
“Elena.” He kept his voice pleasant, almost apologetic. “I will pay off the outstanding rent in the coming days.”
She frowned slightly. “Are you feeling unwell? Why is your face so red, Marcus? What are you here for at the hospital?”
Marcus let a careful silence stretch. Then he said, “But haven’t I always been single? Maybe I wanted to save a sperm sample for myself before I die. So I came to the hospital.”
Elena’s expression shifted. Pity, professional and genuine, softened the line of her mouth. “Marcus, you’re too old. Your body can’t handle it anymore. Let’s go back.”
He smiled. The new confidence still felt strange on his face. “But I believe my body can do it.”
She opened her mouth to argue. Then her gaze dropped, almost involuntarily, and whatever she saw made her go very still. Colour rose in her cheeks. “Oh my God. How is that possible? How can an old man be in better shape than my boyfriend?”
Marcus took another step closer. The system had not yet spoken, but he could feel the potential in the air, the same charged quiet that had preceded Sophie’s first reward. “Elena.”
She looked up sharply. “What are you doing?”
He did not answer with words. Instead he reached out and took her wrist, gentle but firm, and guided her hand. Elena’s breath caught. The professional mask slipped. For a moment she simply stared at what her fingers had closed around, as if her training had never prepared her for this particular measurement.
The system chimed, soft and satisfied.
Ding. Detected emotional surprise in Tenant Elena. Two years younger with enhanced physical capabilities.
Marcus felt the change roll through him like warm water. Another two years. The last residual stiffness in his lower back dissolved. His lungs expanded more freely. Strength settled into his arms and shoulders, not the brittle strength of a man clinging to fitness past his prime, but something denser, more immediate.
I feel much more relaxed, he thought. As expected. I still need to rely on a new partner to enhance myself and unlock new evolutionary abilities.
Elena tried to pull her hand back. He did not let her. “Can you now extract the essence for me?”
She swallowed. “Oh. All right. Then… please take your trousers down a bit and lie down on the hospital bed.”
Marcus obeyed, movements unhurried. The thin mattress crackled under his weight. Elena stood beside the bed, still in her scrubs, still trying to hold on to the last scraps of clinical distance. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the sterile container.
“Take it easy,” Marcus said. “I won’t eat you.”
Elena’s mouth tightened. “Can we start yet, Marcus?”
“Well. I’ll start.”
He guided her hand again. This time there was no pretence of measurement. Elena’s fingers closed around him properly, and the first slow stroke drew a low sound from his throat. She flushed deeper. The clinical container sat forgotten on the side table.
“That’s awesome,” she whispered, almost to herself, and then seemed horrified that she had spoken aloud.
Marcus watched her face. The struggle there was almost as rewarding as the physical sensation. Professional pride warring with shock, with reluctant curiosity, with the simple animal response of a body that had not expected this. He let her continue for another minute, then reached up and caught the front of her scrubs.
Elena’s eyes widened. “Marcus, what are you doing? Wait—”
He pulled her down onto the bed. The curtain whispered shut around them. In the sudden privacy of the small cubicle the fluorescent light seemed harsher, more revealing. Elena tried to push herself up. Marcus rolled her beneath him with the new strength the system had given him, pinning her wrists lightly to the thin mattress.
“Elena,” he said, voice low, “I never would have imagined you would serve patients in this way. If you make me satisfied I can waive your rent. But if your service doesn’t meet my expectations, I’ll report you to the hospital and file a complaint against you.”
The threat landed. He saw it in the sudden stillness of her body, the way her breath caught. Rent was one thing. A formal complaint against a nurse was another. Her career, her references, everything she had built, balanced on the edge of his next words.
“Complaining about me? No, Marcus. What exactly do you want?”
He released one of her wrists and brushed a thumb across her lower lip. “I just made it very clear. I need you to serve me properly and make me satisfied. You should understand what I mean.”
Elena’s free hand fisted in the sheet. Her eyes flicked down, then away, then back again as if she could not help looking. “Ugh. His dick is so big. Can a human even possess such body parts?”
Marcus almost smiled. The system had done its work thoroughly. He shifted his weight, letting her feel the full measure of what the evolution had given him. Elena’s breath stuttered.
“Hold on, Elena.” He reached down and found the small remote control that had been tucked into the pocket of her scrubs. A slender egg vibrator, the sort of private convenience a woman might use on a long shift when the nights ran late. He held it up between them. “I never would have thought that you were secretly playing egg hopping while at work. What do you think your colleagues would think of you if they found out?”
Elena’s face went scarlet. “No. I don’t—”
He pressed the button. The soft buzz filled the small space between them. Elena arched, a choked sound tearing from her throat as the vibration found its target through the thin fabric of her underwear.
“Remote control,” she gasped. “Remote control. This is mine. Give it back to me.”
Marcus increased the intensity. “Stop. Stop right now.”
“You didn’t even serve me well,” he said calmly. “How could I stop?”
Elena’s hips jerked. Her hands came up to push at his chest, but there was no real force behind them. “Oh, Marcus, stop. You’re quite old. If your blood pressure rises later that could be dangerous.”
He laughed softly. “What a thoughtful nurse. You’re so considerate. To show my appreciation, let me repay you properly.”
He shifted again, tugging her scrubs down just far enough. Elena made a broken sound of protest that dissolved into something else entirely when he pressed into her. The vibrator was still active, trapped between their bodies, turning every thrust into a dual assault of pressure and vibration. Elena’s head tipped back against the thin pillow. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.
“Wait a moment, Marcus. That thing is still inside—”
Can I make her emotions grow this way? Marcus wondered, and the system answered almost at once.
Ding. Detected Elena’s heightened emotional state. Physical strength increased by thirty per cent and a year younger.
Another wave of heat. Marcus felt the power settle into his limbs, denser than before. He moved harder, deeper, watching Elena’s face as the last of her professional composure fractured. Her eyes had gone glassy. Her mouth was open on continuous soft sounds that she seemed unable to stop.
“Hmm,” he murmured. “Seems the stimulation isn’t quite enough. My lovely nurse. Don’t worry. I didn’t say I was going in right now.”
Elena shook her head, though her body continued to rise to meet him. “Marcus, stop. I’m too sensitive. I can’t handle this.”
“Don’t rush. This is just the beginning.”
He adjusted the angle, driving deeper, and Elena’s back arched off the mattress. A sharp cry tore from her throat. Somewhere beyond the curtain a trolley rattled past, the ordinary sounds of the hospital continuing as if nothing extraordinary were happening in this small, curtained space.
“Uncle Marcus, stop,” Elena gasped. “This is a hospital. You can’t. Someone’s coming soon. Anything wrong—”
“So what if someone comes?” Marcus kept his voice low, conversational. “Aren’t you conducting an examination for me?”
“No. What if someone finds out?”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure no one’s coming here.” He leaned down until his mouth was against her ear. “And nurse, your body speaks louder than your words.”
Elena’s nails scored his back through the thin hospital gown he still wore. Her next words came out broken, almost pleading. “Please don’t do this. I’m begging you. Someone is really coming.”
Marcus did not stop. The system’s timer, if there had been one, no longer mattered. What mattered was the way Elena’s body clenched around him, the rising flush across her chest, the helpless sounds she could no longer swallow. He increased the intensity of the vibrator with a flick of his thumb and felt her shatter.
Elena came with a muffled cry, face pressed into his shoulder to kill the sound. Her body pulsed around him in tight, rhythmic waves. Marcus held himself still, letting the aftershocks run their course, watching the way her eyes had gone distant and stunned.
The system chimed again.
Ding. Detected Elena’s extreme stimulation. Body strength plus twenty per cent. Two years younger.
Marcus exhaled slowly. Five years younger than when he had walked into this hospital. The numbers were stacking. The illness still waited, patient and certain, but the margin was widening. He could almost taste the extra time.
Elena was still trembling. Her voice, when it came, was hoarse. “Master… Master, stop. The vibrator is still inside. Take it out quickly. Take it out.”
Marcus smiled. The word had slipped out of her without permission, the same word Sophie had used the night before. “That would be even more exciting.”
Elena’s eyes flew open. “Oh no. It’ll be ruined down there.”
He moved again, slower this time, deeper, letting the vibrator continue its work. Elena’s protest dissolved into a long, broken moan. Her legs tightened around his hips. The thin hospital mattress complained under the shift of their weight.
“That vibration inside you,” Marcus murmured. “So good.”
The system recorded the next spike with clinical satisfaction.
Detected Elena’s extreme stimulation. Body strength plus twenty per cent. Two years younger.
Marcus felt the power settle again, denser still. He was beginning to understand the pattern. Shock. Shame. Climax. Each one paid in years and strength. The more thoroughly he broke a tenant’s composure, the richer the reward.
Elena was beyond coherent speech. Soft, continuous sounds spilled from her throat with every thrust. Her scrubs were twisted around her waist. One of her shoes had fallen to the floor. The professional nurse who had greeted him at the door no longer existed in this small, curtained space. Only the woman remained, flushed and open and shaking.
“Nurse,” Marcus said, voice rough now, “you are so tight down there.”
Elena’s answer was a broken cry. “It’s too deep. Oh—”
He did not slow. The knowledge that someone could walk in at any moment only sharpened the edge. Elena seemed to feel it too. Her hands clutched at him with desperate strength, as if she could not decide whether to push him away or pull him deeper.
“If just for once I might get pregnant,” she whispered, the words tumbling out half-formed, half-afraid.
Marcus drove into her one final time and held there, letting the climax take him. Elena followed a second later, her body locking tight, a sharp, startled cry muffled against his shoulder. For a long moment neither of them moved. The only sound was their breathing and the soft, relentless buzz of the vibrator still trapped between them.
At last Marcus reached down and switched it off. The sudden quiet felt almost loud. Elena lay still beneath him, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in shallow waves. A thin sheen of sweat cooled on her skin.
“Nurse,” he said quietly, “the sample is ready. But could you please help me take it out?”
Elena’s eyes opened. For a moment she simply stared at him, as if trying to remember who she was. Then professional instinct reasserted itself, thin and brittle. She reached between them with shaking hands and did as he asked.
Marcus watched her work. “Come on, nurse. Be professional.”
Colour flooded her face again. She finished the task with clinical efficiency that could not quite hide the tremor in her fingers, then sat back on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
Marcus stood and straightened his clothes. The new strength in his body felt permanent now, settled deep into muscle and bone. He glanced at the sterile container on the side table, still empty, and almost smiled.
“You’re the best nurse,” he said.
Elena did not look up. Her voice, when it came, was very small. “What you put on the show…”
Marcus paused at the curtain. “What are you doing again? Sorry, nurse. My semen sample is contaminated. Could you please collect another sample for me?”
Elena’s head snapped up. “What did you say? Again? Didn’t you just come?”
He met her eyes and let the silence stretch. Outside the curtain the hospital continued its ordinary business: footsteps, distant voices, the rattle of a trolley. Inside the small cubicle the air still smelled of sex and disinfectant and the sharp edge of broken composure.
Marcus reached out and brushed a strand of dark hair from Elena’s damp forehead. She flinched, but she did not pull away.
“I’ll be back,” he said quietly. “And Elena… the rent is waived. For now.”
He stepped through the curtain and left her sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, scrubs still twisted, remote control still in her pocket, the first real understanding of what her landlord had become settling slowly behind her eyes.
In the corridor Marcus checked the system panel one last time. The numbers glowed clean and merciless. Years collected. Strength increased. The illness still waited, but the margin had widened again.
Two tenants. Two sets of rewards. And somewhere in the building, or in the city beyond it, more heart rates waiting to be altered.
Marcus Hale walked toward the lifts with the steady stride of a man who had begun to believe he might live.