The morning light came through the blinds in pale stripes, and Lacey blinked at the ceiling, her hand already drifting down her stomach before she was fully awake. The phantom weight was there again—that impossible sense of something between her legs that shouldn't exist, that hadn't existed since she'd taken the necklace off at dawn. She let her fingers slide lower, grazing the smooth skin of her inner thigh, and found nothing but the familiar softness she'd had her whole life. Empty. Normal. And somehow disappointing.

She sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist, and reached for the necklace on her nightstand. The silver caught the light, the knotted design glinting like it was showing off. She'd meant to put it back in her robe pocket last night, but instead she'd fallen asleep with it on, waking in a tangle of damp sheets and a body that felt like it remembered things it had never done.

Her phone buzzed. Maya: *See you at the gym later? I'm coming to do cardio. Don't let me skip leg day.*

Lacey's stomach flipped. She typed back a quick *Wouldn't dream of it* and set the phone down, her fingers brushing the necklace again. She should probably not wear it to work. She should probably throw it in a drawer and pretend the last twenty-four hours hadn't happened. She should probably—

She picked it up and slipped it into her pocket anyway.

In the bathroom, she twisted her hair into a messy bun and studied herself in the mirror. Same face. Same wide brown eyes, same delicate features she'd always thought of as forgettable. But there was something different in her expression now, a new alertness, like she'd been asleep her whole life and was only just waking up.

She pulled on her leggings and stopped mid-tug. The fabric caught on something—a new resistance, a curve that hadn't been there before. She turned sideways, her hand flattening against her own ass, and stared.

It was rounder. Fuller. Her leggings hugged a shape that was distinctly, undeniably curvier than the flat dancer's butt she'd had yesterday. She squeezed experimentally, and the flesh gave under her fingers, soft and plush in a way that made her think of Maya. Maya's soft curves, the way her jeans always looked like they were holding on for dear life, the way Lacey had caught herself staring at her best friend's ass when she'd bent over to grab the wine last night.

She'd been admiring it, she realized. She'd been admiring it the way she'd admired exactly zero women before yesterday.

Lacey turned, craning her neck to see the new shape of herself, and a flush crept up her cheeks. The necklace was in her pocket, and she could feel it warming, a faint pulse against her thigh through the fabric of her leggings.

"No," she said out loud, to the empty room. "We're going to work. We're being normal."

The necklace pulsed again, like it was laughing at her.

The bus was crowded, and Lacey found a seat near the back, her messenger bag clutched in her lap. She'd barely settled in when a woman three rows ahead bent over to pick up her fallen scarf, and Lacey's gaze snagged on the curve of her ass in tight jeans, the thin line of a thong visible at the waistband when her shirt rode up.

Lacey's mouth went dry.

The woman straightened, oblivious, and Lacey forced her eyes away, staring out the window at the gray San Francisco morning. But her mind was already replaying the image—the smooth skin, the hint of lace, the way the fabric had strained. She imagined having a cock right now, imagined the ache of it pressing against her leggings, the desperate need to touch herself in public, to find a bathroom and stroke herself until she came.

She crossed her legs, hard, and tried to think about her shift at the gym. Data entry. Towel folding. The front desk. Anything.

It didn't work. Every woman who got on the bus became a study in anatomy. The blonde with the high ponytail and the sweatshirt that did nothing to hide her chest—Lacey noticed the bounce when she walked, the full, heavy weight of her breasts. The Latina woman in the corner with the low-cut top, cleavage visible every time she shifted—Lacey imagined burying her face there, imagined the soft give of flesh against her lips.

She'd never looked at women like this. She'd never looked at anyone like this.

The woman in the seat in front of her had big breasts. Fake ones, Lacey was almost certain—they sat high and round on her frame, straining against her blouse in a way that was almost architectural. Lacey couldn't stop staring at them. She imagined what they'd feel like in her hands, imagined the weight of them, imagined a cock between her legs hardening at the sight.

The bus lurched, and the woman turned slightly, and Lacey snapped her gaze to the window so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. Her face was burning. She pressed her thighs together and felt the heat building there, a slickness that had nothing to do with her morning shower and everything to do with the realization that she was, apparently, extremely into tits now.

Especially big ones. Especially fake ones.

She was going to be so normal about this.

The gym was quiet when she arrived, the morning rush long over. Lacey clocked in and dropped her bag behind the front desk, grateful for the familiar routine of it—the smell of disinfectant and sweat, the hum of the treadmills, the distant clank of weights from the main floor.

Vanessa was already there, leaning against the counter with a protein shake in one hand, her dark hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. She was wearing a sports bra and those tiny spandex volleyball shorts that left almost nothing to the imagination, and Lacey had to physically force herself not to stare at the defined lines of her shoulders, the strong curve of her thighs.

"There she is," Vanessa said, grinning. "I was starting to think you'd ghosted me."

"Traffic," Lacey said, which was a lie—she'd been standing in her bathroom for ten minutes, trying to decide if her butt was actually rounder or if she was losing her mind.

"Uh-huh." Vanessa took a sip of her shake, eyeing Lacey over the rim of the cup. "You look different."

"I have a new hair tie."

"Not that." Vanessa tilted her head, studying her. "I don't know. You look... more awake?"

Lacey's hand drifted to her pocket, where the necklace sat warm and heavy against her thigh. "I slept well."

"Good. You needed it." Vanessa set down her shake and stretched, her arms reaching overhead, and Lacey watched the way her sports bra shifted, the firm swell of her breasts pressing against the fabric. "It's dead today. I was thinking we could actually hang out for once, instead of just working next to each other."

"Hang out how?"

"I don't know. Talk. Laugh. Watch me do bicep curls and pretend to be impressed."

Lacey laughed, and it came out a little too high-pitched, a little too eager. "I'm always impressed."

"Good answer." Vanessa grinned and jerked her head toward the main floor. "Come on. I'll show you my new PR."

The gym was empty, the way it got in the dead hours between the lunch rush and the after-work crowd. A few people dotted the cardio machines, but the weight floor was deserted, and Vanessa's voice echoed off the high ceilings as she loaded the barbell.

"Watch this," she said, and she bent down, her hands gripping the bar, the spandex of her shorts pulling tight across the strong curve of her ass. Lacey swallowed hard.

Vanessa deadlifted the weight with a controlled grunt, her thighs quivering with the effort, and Lacey found herself staring at the flex of her hamstrings, the way the muscles moved under her skin. She'd seen Vanessa lift a hundred times. She'd never watched her like this.

"So," Vanessa said, racking the bar and straightening up, her chest heaving. "What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've been weird all morning." Vanessa grabbed a towel and wiped her face. "Distracted. And you keep looking at me like you're trying to solve a puzzle."

Lacey's face went hot. "I'm not—I was just—"

"Relax." Vanessa laughed, tossing the towel over her shoulder. "I'm teasing. You're allowed to be weird. It's a slow day."

It was more than slow. It was dead. The clock on the wall seemed to have stopped, and every time Lacey glanced at it, only a minute had passed. She couldn't stop looking at Vanessa—the way the sports bra hugged her chest, the way her skin gleamed with a light sheen of sweat, the way she laughed with her whole body, her head thrown back, her throat exposed.

Lacey shifted on the stool behind the front desk, her leggings suddenly too tight, the heat building low in her belly. The necklace in her pocket was warm, pulsing against her thigh in a rhythm that matched her heartbeat.

"I'm gonna run to the bathroom," she said, her voice coming out strained.

Vanessa glanced at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just—be right back."

She practically fled, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floor as she made for the locker room. The bathroom was empty, mercifully, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as she locked herself in a stall and leaned against the door, her heart hammering.

She pulled the necklace out of her pocket. It gleamed in the harsh light, the knotted silver warm from her body heat, and she stared at it for a long moment, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

"Just once," she whispered. "Just to take the edge off."

She fastened it around her neck.

The warmth spread immediately, flooding through her chest, pooling low in her belly. She felt the familiar swell between her legs, the impossible growth of it, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan as her cock pushed against the inside of her leggings, thick and heavy and achingly hard.

She fumbled with the waistband of her leggings, shoving them down just enough to free herself, and her cock sprang out, curving up toward her stomach, the head flushed and leaking. She wrapped her hand around it and stroked, slow and deliberate, her head falling back against the stall door.

It felt so good. It always felt so good. She imagined Vanessa out there on the weight floor, imagined her bending over the barbell, the spandex of her shorts pulling tight, imagined walking up behind her and pressing her cock against that perfect ass—

The door to the bathroom swung open.

Lacey froze, her hand still wrapped around her cock, her eyes flying wide. Through the gap in the stall door, she saw Vanessa walk in, her ponytail swinging, a water bottle in one hand.

Lacey didn't breathe. She didn't move. She just stood there, trapped, her cock in her hand, the necklace pulsing warm against her throat.

Vanessa stopped in front of the sink. She set down her water bottle, looked at herself in the mirror—and then her gaze drifted, catching on the stall door, on the sliver of Lacey visible through the gap.

Their eyes met.

Lacey's heart stopped.

Vanessa didn't scream. She didn't gasp or turn away or call for help. She just stared, her dark eyes going wide, her lips parting slightly. And then, slowly, she turned to face the stall, her gaze dropping down to Lacey's hand, to the thick length of flesh she was gripping.

"Lacey," she said, and her voice was low, rough, almost wondering. "What is that?"

Lacey opened her mouth to explain, to lie, to say anything—but no words came out. She just stood there, frozen, her cock twitching in her grip, a bead of pre-cum welling at the tip.

Vanessa took a step closer. Then another. She reached the stall door and pushed it open, and Lacey stumbled back, her leggings still bunched around her thighs, her cock bobbing obscenely in the space between them.

"I can explain," Lacey started, but Vanessa shook her head, her gaze fixed on the cock.

"Don't." She reached out, her fingers brushing the shaft, feather-light, and Lacey shuddered. "God, Lacey. It's real."

"It's not—I mean, it is, but it's temporary—"

"I don't care." Vanessa dropped to her knees on the tile floor, her hands coming up to frame Lacey's hips. She looked up at Lacey, her dark eyes glittering. "I just want to taste it."

Lacey's brain short-circuited. "You—what?"

But Vanessa was already leaning in, her tongue darting out to swipe across the head, and Lacey's knees nearly buckled. The sensation was electric, sharp and overwhelming, and she grabbed the edge of the sink to steady herself, a strangled moan escaping her lips.

Vanessa hummed, low and appreciative, and wrapped her hand around the base of Lacey's cock, stroking slowly as she lapped at the head. Her other hand came up to cup Lacey's balls, rolling them gently, and Lacey's hips bucked forward involuntarily.

"God," Vanessa breathed, pulling back just enough to speak. "You taste incredible."

Lacey couldn't form words. She just watched, transfixed, as Vanessa took the head of her cock into her mouth, her lips stretching around the girth, her tongue swirling along the underside. The heat of it was overwhelming, the wet, tight suction of her mouth pulling Lacey deeper, and Lacey's fingers tangled in Vanessa's dark hair, holding on for dear life.

Vanessa moaned around her, the vibration sending sparks up Lacey's spine, and took more of her, inch by inch, her head bobbing slowly. Lacey felt the back of Vanessa's throat against the tip and gasped, her hips twitching, her cock throbbing with need.

"Vanessa," she choked out. "I'm gonna—"

Vanessa pulled off just long enough to say, "Not yet," her voice husky, her lips slick with spit. "I want to taste you when you come."

And then she took Lacey back into her mouth, deep, all the way, her nose brushing Lacey's pelvis, and Lacey cried out, her head falling back, her hips thrusting helplessly into the wet heat of Vanessa's throat.

Vanessa's hand found her balls again, rolling them gently as she sucked, and Lacey felt the orgasm building low in her belly, coiling tight, unstoppable. She tried to warn Vanessa, tried to pull back, but Vanessa held her fast, her hands gripping Lacey's hips, taking everything.

Lacey came with a broken cry, her release flooding Vanessa's mouth, hot and thick, and Vanessa swallowed around her, her throat working, her eyes fluttering shut. Lacey's whole body shook, her cock twitching with each pulse of her climax, and she slumped against the sink, her legs barely holding her up.

Vanessa pulled off slowly, a string of spit connecting her lips to the softening cock, and looked up at Lacey with a satisfied smile.

"That," she said, "was not what I expected when I walked in here."

Lacey's mind was still white static. She stared down at Vanessa, at the flush on her cheeks, at the shine of spit on her lips, and felt the necklace pulse warm against her throat.

"I—" she started, and then stopped, because she didn't have words for any of this.

Vanessa stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and looked at Lacey with those dark, knowing eyes. "Do you think you could get hard again?” she said, turning around and pulling down her shorts. Her tiny g-string split her ass cheeks, “I think I want to ride your big cock.”

All of a sudden, it was like she’d never cum at all, Lacey was hard. “Perfect” Said Vanessa. And she was ready. Vanessa turned back around, sliding her thong to the side and straddling Lacey’s crotch. She reached a hand down, grabbing lacey’s dick with her manicured nails. She guided it in.

As she began to rode, Lacey reached up and started fondling her tits. If only these were a little bigger she thought to herself, and then noticed …. they began to swell.

Lacey's hands were still on Vanessa's tits when she felt it—the subtle, impossible shift of flesh beneath her palms. The swell was gentle at first, a warm fullness that made her fingers sink deeper into yielding softness. Then more. The cups of Vanessa's sports bra strained, the fabric pulling taut across a curve that had definitely been smaller thirty seconds ago.

Vanessa's rhythm faltered. She looked down at her own chest, her eyes going wide as the bra straps dug into her shoulders. "What the—"

Lacey watched, transfixed, as Vanessa's tits continued to grow, rounder and heavier until the sports bra looked ready to split. The sight of them—bigger, fuller, straining against the thin fabric—sent a bolt of heat straight to Lacey's cock, still buried deep inside her.

"Lacey," Vanessa breathed, her voice husky with something between shock and arousal. "What's happening to me?"

Lacey didn't have an answer. She just stared at the way Vanessa's nipples had hardened, visible through the stretched fabric, and felt her hips move on their own, driving deeper. Vanessa gasped, her new weight bouncing with the motion, and then she was riding again—harder now, desperate, her nails digging into Lacey's shoulders.

The locker room filled with the wet sound of their bodies meeting, the slap of skin against skin. Vanessa's moans were louder now, higher, her head thrown back as she chased the friction. Lacey reached up and yanked the sports bra down, freeing Vanessa's swollen breasts, and they spilled into her hands—heavy, perfect, exactly the size she'd imagined.

"Oh god," Vanessa whimpered as Lacey thumbed her nipples. "That's—fuck, that's good."

Lacey squeezed, feeling the weight of them, and Vanessa cried out, her hips bucking hard. The power of it—the realization that she'd done this, that her wanting had made it real—sent a thrill through Lacey's chest. She did it again, thinking harder this time, imagining them even fuller, and Vanessa moaned as they swelled another size in her grip.

"Lacey, please—" Vanessa didn't seem to know what she was begging for. She just rode, faster, frantic, her breasts bouncing in Lacey's hands.

Lacey let go of one and grabbed Vanessa's hip, guiding the rhythm, setting a pace that made them both gasp. The cock inside her was throbbing, so hard it ached, and every time Vanessa sank down, Lacey felt herself brush against something that made stars burst behind her eyes.

"I'm close," Vanessa panted, her voice breaking. "Lacey, I'm so close—"

"Me too." Lacey's words came out strangled. She could feel the orgasm building, coiling tight at the base of her spine, and she didn't want to hold back. Not this time. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Vanessa leaned forward, her new breasts pressing against Lacey's chest, and the contact was electric. Her mouth found Lacey's, open and desperate, and they kissed with a hunger that was almost violent, tongues tangling, teeth clicking. Vanessa's hips never stopped moving, grinding down in a rhythm that was quickly falling apart.

"I'm gonna—" Vanessa broke the kiss, her forehead against Lacey's, her eyes squeezed shut. "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come so hard—"

"Yes," Lacey urged, her hands gripping Vanessa's ass, pulling her down harder. "Do it. Come on me. Come on my cock—"

The words seemed to break something in Vanessa. She cried out, a raw, guttural sound that echoed off the tile walls, and her body clenched around Lacey's cock in a wave of spasms so intense that Lacey felt every pulse. The sight of her—face flushed, mouth open, tits bouncing—was too much.

Lacey came with a scream that tore her throat, her release flooding into Vanessa's convulsing cunt. She heard herself crying out, wordless and animal, and she felt Vanessa's nails raking down her back as they rode out the wave together, their bodies locked in a shuddering, breathless mess.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. They just clung to each other, panting, slick with sweat, the only sound the harsh rasp of their breathing and the distant hum of the fluorescent lights.

Finally, Vanessa stirred. She lifted her head, her dark eyes hazy and satisfied, and pressed a soft kiss to Lacey's lips. "That," she whispered, "was incredible."

Lacey's mind was still static. She watched, dazed, as Vanessa climbed off her with a wince, the cock slipping free with a wet sound that made her blush. Vanessa looked down at her own chest, still swollen, and laughed, a low, wondering sound.

"Are these permanent?" she asked, cupping one in her hand. "Because I could get used to this."

Lacey's throat was dry. She reached up and touched the necklace, still warm against her skin, and felt something shift in her mind—a new awareness, a muscle she hadn't known she had. It flexed instinctively, reaching toward Vanessa, and she felt the shape of the thought forming before she'd even decided to think it.

"Vanessa," she said, her voice soft, almost casual. "Hey, maybe forget about this whole thing."

Vanessa blinked. The haze in her eyes cleared, and she looked around the locker room with a mild, slightly confused expression. Then she shrugged, a easy smile crossing her face.

"OK," she said. She pulled her shorts back up, adjusting the g-string with practiced ease, and reached for her sports bra. "I should get back to the floor anyway. You coming?"

Lacey stared at her. The tits were shrinking, she realized—not all the way back to normal, but settling into something slightly fuller than they'd been before, like the memory of the change had lingered. Vanessa didn't seem to notice. She just finished dressing, checked her reflection in the mirror, and headed for the door.

"See you out there," she called over her shoulder, and then she was gone, the door swinging shut behind her.

Lacey sat there on the cold tile floor, her cock softening between her legs, the necklace pulsing against her throat. She'd told Vanessa to forget. And Vanessa had forgotten. Just like that.

She looked down at her hands. They were trembling, but not from fear. From the weight of what she'd just learned she could do.

The necklace was warm against her skin. Almost smug. She reached up and touched it, her fingers tracing the knotted silver, and felt the pulse of it—steady, patient, like a heartbeat that had been waiting for her all along.

She should take it off. She knew she should take it off. But her hand fell away, and she stayed there a moment longer, feeling the aftershocks ripple through her body, feeling the new muscle flex and settle in her mind.

When she finally stood, her legs were unsteady. She pulled her leggings up, wincing as the fabric brushed against her still-sensitive cock, and tucked it away with a practiced motion that felt disturbingly natural. The necklace stayed on.

She walked out of the locker room and found Vanessa at the front desk, organizing paperwork like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't just screamed Lacey's name on a bathroom floor. Like she hadn't had Lacey's cock buried inside her.

Vanessa looked up and smiled, bright and friendly. "Hey, there you are. You look flushed. Everything OK?"

Lacey's stomach dropped. The muscle in her mind twitched, and she felt the urge to test it again—to see how far the influence reached. But she swallowed it down and forced a smile.

"Yeah," she said. "Just needed some water."

Vanessa nodded, already turning back to her work. "Hydration's important. You know what they say—if you're thirsty, you're already dehydrated."

"Right." Lacey leaned against the counter, her heart hammering. The necklace was a warm weight against her collarbone, and she could feel it pulsing in time with her heartbeat, steady and patient.

The rest of her shift passed in a blur. She answered the phone, folded towels, restocked the protein bars—all the mindless tasks she'd done a hundred times before. But her mind was elsewhere, circling around the new knowledge like a tongue probing a loose tooth.

She'd made it happen. The tits, the forgetting, the easy dismissal of the most impossible thing that had ever happened to her. She'd thought it, and the world had bent to match.

What else could she make happen?

The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it sent a thrill down her spine, a dark, hungry excitement that made her fingers itch.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw Maya's name on the screen: *Cardio done! Sweating like a pig. You free for lunch?*

Lacey stared at the message. The necklace pulsed warm against her throat, and the muscle in her mind flexed, almost involuntarily—reaching out across the distance, brushing against the thought of Maya's warm smile, her soft curves, the way she'd kissed Lacey's cheek and lingered just a moment too long.

She typed back slowly: *Meet you at the smoothie place in ten.*

Maya's response came almost instantly: *Perfect. I'm buying.*

Lacey pocketed the phone. She glanced at Vanessa, still absorbed in her paperwork, completely oblivious to the fact that she'd had a cock in her mouth an hour ago. Completely oblivious to the fact that her tits were still slightly fuller than they'd been this morning.

Lacey's hand drifted to her pocket, where the necklace sat warm and heavy. She could feel it pulsing, patient and eager, like it knew something she didn't.

She grabbed her bag and headed for the door, the bell jingling as she pushed outside into the San Francisco sun. The city was bright and loud, full of people going about their ordinary lives, and Lacey walked among them, feeling the secret weight of the necklace against her skin.

She was halfway to the smoothie place when she felt it—a warmth spreading through her chest, a familiar ache low in her belly. She glanced down at herself and nearly stumbled.

The curve of her ass, fuller than it had been this morning, swayed with a new weight in her leggings. Her hips, usually narrow and boyish, had softened into a rounder shape. And her chest—she looked down at the front of her shirt, at the subtle swell pressing against the fabric, and felt her mouth go dry.

The changes were small, almost imperceptible. But they were there. And she hadn't even put the necklace on.

She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, her heart racing. The necklace was in her pocket. It wasn't around her neck. But she could feel it working anyway, a low hum of power that had seeped into her skin and stayed there.

She should take it off. She should throw it in the nearest trash can and never look back.

Instead, she pulled it out of her pocket and looked at it—the knotted silver, the tiny etching on the back that she still couldn't decipher. It gleamed in the sunlight, warm to the touch, and she felt it pulse against her palm like a second heartbeat.

Ahead, she could see the smoothie place. And through the glass, she could see Maya—already there, already waving, her face lit up with that warm, easy smile that made Lacey's chest ache.

Lacey slipped the necklace into her pocket and walked toward her.

Maya pushed open the glass door before Lacey could reach for it, her grin widening as she stepped out into the sun. She was wearing a loose tank top that showed a sliver of her stomach, and her dark waves bounced with every movement. "There you are! I was starting to think you ghosted me."

"Sorry," Lacey said, her voice coming out breathier than she'd intended. "Shift ran long."

Maya looped her arm through Lacey's, pulling her toward the door. The casual contact sent a jolt through Lacey's system—the warmth of Maya's skin against hers, the soft press of her side. The necklace pulsed in her pocket, a steady hum against her thigh, and Lacey felt the muscle in her mind twitch, reaching out instinctively.

She pulled it back. Not yet. Not here.

Inside, the smoothie place was cool and bright, the air thick with the smell of blended fruit and protein powder. Maya ordered for both of them—a mango-kale thing for herself, a strawberry-banana for Lacey—and paid before Lacey could even reach for her wallet.

"You said I was buying," Maya reminded her, sliding the cups across the counter. "Don't argue."

They settled into a booth by the window, the late-morning sun slanting across the table. Maya stirred her smoothie with a straw, watching Lacey with those warm, crinkling eyes.

"So," Maya said, "you've been weird lately."

Lacey's stomach dropped. "Weird how?"

"I don't know. Distracted. Like you're somewhere else half the time." Maya tilted her head, studying her. "And you keep touching your pocket."

Lacey's hand froze mid-reach. She'd been doing it without thinking—her fingers drifting toward the necklace, seeking the warmth of it. She forced her hand back to her cup.

"Just tired," she said. "Work's been busy."

Maya didn't look convinced. But she let it go, launching into a story about her morning—a guy at the gym who'd tried to correct her form on the leg press and had gotten very, very wrong advice in return. Lacey laughed in all the right places, nodded at the right moments, but her mind kept snagging on the weight in her pocket.

The necklace was warm. Not just warm—hot, almost, a persistent heat that seemed to be growing with every minute she spent near Maya. And the muscle in her mind kept flexing, unbidden, reaching toward the woman across from her like a hand stretching toward a flame.

Lacey took a sip of her smoothie, the cold sweetness doing nothing to quench the heat building low in her belly. She could feel the changes happening again—subtle shifts in her body, a softening here, a swelling there. Her leggings felt tighter in the hips. Her shirt pulled differently across her chest.

"Lace?" Maya's voice cut through her spiral. "You OK? You look flushed."

Lacey's hand flew to her cheek. It was hot to the touch. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just—" She cast around for an excuse. "The sun. I walked too fast."

Maya's brow furrowed. She reached across the table and pressed the back of her hand to Lacey's forehead. The contact was electric, a bolt of heat that shot straight through Lacey's body and settled between her legs.

"You're burning up," Maya said. "Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"

The words barely registered. All Lacey could focus on was Maya's hand on her skin, the warmth of her touch, the way her thumb had brushed against Lacey's temple. The muscle in her mind flexed hard, and for a terrifying, thrilling moment, Lacey felt the shape of a thought forming—a command, a push, a suggestion.

*Kiss me.*

She bit it back, hard enough to taste blood. Not like this. Not when Maya didn't even know what she was.

"I'm fine," Lacey said, pulling back. "Promise. Just need some water."

Maya's hand hovered in the air for a moment before she withdrew it, her expression still worried. "If you say so. But if you're still feeling off later, I'm dragging you to urgent care."

"Deal."

They finished their smoothies in a silence that felt heavier than it should have. Maya kept glancing at Lacey, her dark eyes searching, and Lacey kept her gaze fixed on the window, watching the city move past in a blur of color and noise. The necklace pulsed against her thigh, patient and eager, and she could feel its hunger growing with every second she spent in Maya's orbit.

*Not yet,* she told it. *Not yet.*

But even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie. The hunger wasn't going to wait. It had been building for days, weeks, years—a need she'd never let herself name, buried so deep she'd almost forgotten it was there.

The necklace had just dug it up.

Maya stood, gathering their cups. "I've got a client in twenty. Walk me out?"

Lacey nodded, rising on legs that felt unsteady. She followed Maya to the door, her eyes tracing the sway of Maya's hips in her yoga pants, the curve of her ass, the way her tank top rode up just slightly to reveal a strip of warm skin.

The necklace burned.

Outside, Maya turned to face her, the sun catching the gold hoops in her ears. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself, OK? You look exhausted."

"I will," Lacey said. And then, before she could stop herself: "When are you free again?"

Maya's face lit up. "Tomorrow night? I was thinking we could do dinner at my place. I got a new recipe I've been dying to try."

"Tomorrow night," Lacey repeated. The words felt like a promise. Like a door opening. "Yeah. That sounds good."

Maya grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to Lacey's cheek. Her lips lingered just a moment too long, warm and soft, and Lacey felt the muscle in her mind flex hard enough to make her dizzy.

"See you then," Maya whispered, and then she was gone, walking down the sidewalk with that easy, confident stride.

Lacey watched her go, her heart pounding. The necklace was a brand against her thigh, hot and insistent, and she could feel the hunger coiling in her belly like a snake waking from a long sleep.

She pulled the necklace out of her pocket and looked at it—the knotted silver, the undecipherable etching, the pulse of warmth that seemed almost alive. And for the first time, she didn't feel afraid.

She felt hungry.

Tomorrow night, she thought, slipping the necklace back into her pocket. The weight of it was familiar now, almost comforting.

Tomorrow night, she'd see what she could really do.