Novel Full Chapter 1031: My Mature Goddesses
Chapter 1031: My Mature Goddesses
Genevieve watched the whole thing from her seat with the satisfied expression of a woman who had just introduced her favorite person to her new family and watched the adoption happen in real time.
After that we drove to Meridian Agency. The van self-drove through the LA night, drawing far less attention in the dark than it would have in daylight — just a long silver shape moving through traffic like a quiet secret on wheels.
The night air hit me after the climate-controlled perfection of the van. I walked through the entrance and up to the office where I knew they’d be, because Catherine and Dominique were always where the work was — even at this hour, even when the plan was departure and the destination was Paris and every other woman in my life was sitting in a futuristic bus outside waiting for them to stop being workaholics for five consecutive minutes.
And — fuck.
She’d cut her hair.
She wore a black-and-white ensemble that was half blazer, half corset — a strapless black top with white geometric detailing across the bust, one arm sleeved in a long black opera glove while the other was bare, a white blazer hanging off one shoulder like it had tried to stay on and her body had rejected it.
She looked like a weapon someone had dressed up for a gallery opening.
Catherine Reynolds was in her fifties. I knew that. Had known it since the day we met — and she’d been stunning then like she was in her forties. Defying her age with genetics, discipline, and the specific maintenance that women with her resources could afford.
Her skin and body had changed just like all my other women. I could see it from across the room — the texture, the luminosity, the way light didn’t just hit her face but settled into it like it belonged there.
The faint creasing along her neck that had once betrayed age even when the face didn’t — gone.
She looked thirty-two. Maybe thirty. A woman who should have been aging gracefully was instead aging in reverse, and the trajectory wasn’t slowing down.
My seed.
My women had been transforming.
But I’d been living with those changes every single day — watching them happen in tiny, incremental millimeters — so gradual my eyes had adjusted and the miracle had faded into background noise.
And a week of the Divine Seed working unchecked on a woman I wasn’t around to normalize meant the changes slammed into me all at once. Like stepping out of a dark room straight into blinding sunlight.
Dominique stood by the window in a white satin dress that clung to her body like it had been poured on and never bothered to dry.
Plunging neckline that opened in a deep V, held together by thin straps crisscrossing between her breasts with a small gold pendant resting right at the center of the X where the fabric kissed skin.
A gold choker circled her throat. Gold hoops in her ears. A thick braid fell over one shoulder, tied at the end with something small and red.
She looked like she’d walked straight out of a dream I hadn’t had yet — but would now have every single night for the rest of my life.
Her skin had gone from beautiful to absurd, the kind of smooth that made you suspect digital retouching except she was standing right there in physical space and the light wasn’t lying.
My seed has been doing wonders apart from making my women and my mom pregnat.