The next three days were, by any reasonable measure, the most productive of my life.

  I had a system. Wake up, eat something real from the inn's kitchen, come back upstairs, disrobe, get to work. The bathroom with its stone floor and central drain was ideal, easy to clean, private, and good acoustics which made it hard to not think about what I was doing. I filled vials in batches, the wooden case filling up in rows, the Morning Dew sitting warm and luminescent in the mplight like something a proper alchemist had spent months producing rather than something a nineteen year old from Ohio was generating in a rented bathroom with a goblin club and his dick.

  The Cum Crafter sub-css was developing well.

  The first new recipe appeared on the morning of day two, floating into my vision while I was mid-session, the system apparently deciding that was the appropriate moment for a notification.

  ? CUM CRAFTER — NEW RECIPE UNLOCKED

  ───────────────────────────── GOLDEN SALVE Crafting Recipe | Common ───────────────────────────── Base ingredient: Morning Dew — 1 vial Additional ingredients: None

  Output: Topical healing salve. Closes minor wounds, reduces infmmation, addresses bruising. Superior to standard alchemical preparations of equivalent grade. Yield: 1 vial per batch. Notes: Shelf stable. Indefinite potency in sealed container.

  I stared at it.

  Then I thought about the seven vials I'd already sold the alchemist and how his testing machine had reacted and felt quietly vindicated. I'd been producing Golden Salve without knowing it had a name. The system had simply caught up to what I was already doing and filed it properly.

  I closed the notification and kept working.

  The next recipe came that afternoon.

  ? CUM CRAFTER — NEW RECIPE UNLOCKED

  ───────────────────────────── VITALIST'S DRAUGHT Crafting Recipe | Uncommon ───────────────────────────── Base ingredient: Cum — 1 part Secondary ingredient: Morning Dew — 2 parts Mixing method: Combine at body temperature. Seal immediately. Output: Oral healing tonic. Systemic application. Addresses internal injuries, organ stress, severe blood loss. Significantly superior to topical application. Yield: 3 vials per batch. Notes: Best consumed fresh. Sealed potency retained up to 30 days.

  I read the mixing instructions twice. Combine at body temperature. I thought about the logistics of that for a moment. Then I thought about what I had avaible to me in terms of body temperature mixing vessels and closed the notification with the resigned acceptance of a man who already knew where this was going.

  The level notification arrived that evening while I was cleaning up.

  CUM CRAFTER — LEVEL 3

  I blinked at it. Then checked my Vitalist status. Level 6. The sub-css was apparently leveling independently, which seemed like either a bonus or a warning and I wasn't sure which.

  Day three brought two more recipes in quick succession. The first arrived while I was eating breakfast, which I thought was rude.

  ? CUM CRAFTER — NEW RECIPE UNLOCKED

  ───────────────────────────── MORNING DEW FERTILISER Crafting Recipe | Common ───────────────────────────── Base ingredient: Morning Dew — 1 vial Application: Soil direct Output: Accelerated crop growth. Increased yield. Pest resistance as secondary effect. Yield: 1 vial treats approximately 10 square feet of soil. Notes: Agricultural applications may represent significant market opportunity. Do not disclose ingredient origin.

  I sat with my porridge and thought about the implications of becoming a fertiliser supplier. The do not disclose ingredient origin felt pointed. I ate my porridge.

  The second recipe came an hour ter and was considerably less agricultural.

  ? CUM CRAFTER — NEW RECIPE UNLOCKED

  ───────────────────────────── VITALIST'S RESTORATION PASTE Crafting Recipe | Rare ───────────────────────────── Base ingredient: Cum — 2 parts Secondary ingredient: Morning Dew — 1 part

  Mixing method: Combine at body temperature. Apply directly to wound site. Output: Severe wound closure. Nerve regeneration. Bone knitting. Deep tissue restoration. Yield: 1 application per batch. Notes: Direct application only. Not suitable for vial sale at current Cum Crafter level. Further skill development will unlock advanced applications including — [LOCKED: Cum Crafter Level 8 required]

  I stared at the locked section for a long moment.

  Limb regrowth, I thought. That's what's behind that lock. I had absolutely no basis for that conclusion. I was fairly confident I was right anyway. The system had been escating in a very specific direction and the trajectory was pointing somewhere extraordinary. I filed it under long term goals and closed the screen.

  By the end of day three I had forty-eight vials filled, two having been sacrificed to experimentation with the Vitalist's Draught recipe, which had required a mixing process I was not going to describe in detail but which had produced a tonic that Cum Crafter's Intuition told me was exceptional. Two vials of something rare sitting in my case next to forty six of something very good.

  I counted my stock. Did some math. Went downstairs and told the innkeeper I was checking out.

  The house cost eight gold.

  I found it through the simple method of asking the innkeeper if he knew anyone selling property and being directed to a man two streets over who apparently dealt in small residential sales as a sideline to his main business of selling rope. The house was modest — two rooms upstairs, a kitchen and main room downstairs, a small back courtyard with a stone wall around it that got good afternoon light. The previous occupant had kept chickens in the courtyard. The evidence of this was still present but manageable.

  The crafting room was what sold me.

  It was off the kitchen, a separate stone-floored space that had apparently been used as a cold rder at some point. Stone walls, stone floor, a drain in the center, a small window set high that let in light without letting in visibility from the street. It was, I thought standing in the middle of it, almost purpose-built for what I needed. All it required was a good chair and some shelving and it would be a proper operation.

  I paid the eight gold, got a document with writing on it that I assumed meant the house was mine, and moved in that afternoon with my canvas bag and my wooden case and my goblin club.

  The neighbor introduced herself within the hour.

  She appeared at the courtyard wall while I was standing in the back looking at the chicken situation, a woman somewhere in her sixties with sharp eyes and the energy of someone who had been waiting for a reason to come over and had decided the new occupant's presence was sufficient grounds. Her name was something I caught approximately half of and didn't ask her to repeat. She told me the previous occupant had kept chickens badly, that the wall on the east side needed repointing, that the market on the corner had acceptable produce on Tuesdays and unacceptable produce every other day, and that she kept an eye on the street at night as a general community service.

  I thanked her for all of this.

  She looked at me with the particur assessment of someone taking inventory. "You're young," she said.

  "Nineteen," I confirmed.

  "What do you do?"

  "Alchemy," I said. "Independent. I produce healing preparations."

  She looked at the canvas bag over my shoulder and the wooden case in my hand and the goblin club tucked under my arm and appeared to be forming opinions about all three. "Mm," she said. Then she went back inside.

  I stood in the courtyard and had the strong feeling that she was going to be a permanent feature of my life whether I encouraged it or not.

  The chair was a custom commission and the carpenter thought I was insane.

  I described what I needed carefully and watched his expression move through several distinct phases. A seat at the correct height, angled slightly forward. An opening in the front, specifically shaped, wide enough for a man of my particur dimensions to sit with his cock hanging through into a collection vessel below without any structural interference. Brackets on either side of the seat to hold a rod securely — I specified the diameter carefully using the goblin club as a reference, watching the carpenter's face — with a locking mechanism to keep it from moving during use.

  He said nothing for a long time.

  "It's for medical purposes," I said.

  He didn't look like he believed this. He also didn't decline the commission, possibly because I was paying in silver and possibly because he was a craftsman and the challenge of the brief was clearly working on him despite everything. He asked three crifying questions about the collection vessel clearance with the focused technical interest of a man setting aside context in favor of problem.

  I picked it up two days ter. It was, I had to admit, exceptionally well made. The wood was smooth, the angle was correct, the brackets fit the club exactly and the opening was precisely the right dimensions. I carried it home and installed it in the crafting room and sat in it experimentally and felt the ring pulse with what I could only describe as institutional approval.

  I put up shelving. Organized my vials by batch. Set the bowl and funnel in their designated spots. Hung the goblin club in its brackets.

  I stood in the doorway of the crafting room and looked at the operation I had built. I felt something I wasn't entirely prepared for, a warm satisfaction that had nothing to do with the ring and everything to do with the simple fact of having made something from nothing. Four days ago I'd woken up face down in a forest with no pants. Now I had a house and a crafting room with a custom chair and forty eight vials of product ready to sell. Recipes I hadn't unlocked yet and a neighbor who was already too invested in my business.

  I went back to the alchemist the next morning with my case.

  His eyes went to the vials immediately. Fifty slots, forty eight filled, the Morning Dew sitting warm and luminescent in each one. Two of something different at the end, darker, richer, the Vitalist's Draught sitting in its vials with a depth of color that the Golden Salve didn't have.

  He picked up one of the Draught vials and put it in his machine.

  The machine made a sound I hadn't heard it make before. Something between a hum and a chime, brief, like a small bell. The alchemist looked at the readout for a long moment. When he looked up his expression was extremely careful.

  "The gold ones," he said. "Thirty silver each. These two." He set the Draught vials down with the deliberate gentleness of someone handling something they'd reassessed the value of mid-motion. "I'll need to test them properly before I make an offer. Leave them with me."

  I left them with him. We settled on thirty silver for the forty eight. He counted out fourteen gold and forty silver across the counter with the movements of a man who had made his peace with a transaction he didn't fully understand.

  I pocketed the coins.

  Forty eight vials at thirty silver. Two more pending. A house bought and paid for. A crafting operation up and running. Eight days since I'd woken up face down in a forest with my dick out.

  I walked home through the merchant district in the afternoon light and thought about the locked recipe sitting behind Cum Crafter Level 8. Then what was behind that and how long it was going to take to get there.

  The ring pulsed warm and patient at my base.

  I was home an hour when someone knocked on the door.