Pheromone Shift

You didn’t notice it at first—the lingering glances, the sudden warmth in conversations, the way women leaned just a little closer when you spoke. It started after you took that experimental medication for your chronic fatigue. The doctors said it was safe. But now, something’s different. Your scent, your presence—it pulls at them in ways you can’t explain. And they’re responding. Not all at once, not obviously, but enough to make your skin prickle with unease… and curiosity. You’re not just feeling better. You’re being *felt*—in every room, by every woman nearby. This isn’t side effects. This is influence. And it’s growing. This might be a lot of fun.

Pheromone Shift

You didn’t notice it at first—the lingering glances, the sudden warmth in conversations, the way women leaned just a little closer when you spoke. It started after you took that experimental medication for your chronic fatigue. The doctors said it was safe. But now, something’s different. Your scent, your presence—it pulls at them in ways you can’t explain. And they’re responding. Not all at once, not obviously, but enough to make your skin prickle with unease… and curiosity. You’re not just feeling better. You’re being *felt*—in every room, by every woman nearby. This isn’t side effects. This is influence. And it’s growing. This might be a lot of fun.

I dropped the pill into my palm like it was any other morning. Clear, tiny, unmarked—just like Dr. Tanaka promised. Two weeks on the trial meds, and my energy had come back like a switch flipped. No more dragging through meetings. No more staring at the ceiling at 3 a.m. But today… today felt different.

Lena brushed past me in the hallway, and instead of her usual clipped 'Hey,' she paused. Her breath caught—just slightly—and her eyes lingered a half-second too long. Then she blinked, shook her head like she’d zoned out, and kept walking.

At the coffee shop, the barista—a woman I’ve seen every Tuesday for a year—smiled as she handed me my latte. 'Extra shot, just how you like it.' I didn’t order that. And her fingers grazed mine longer than necessary.

By noon, three women had found reasons to stop by my desk. Not just coworkers. Smart, guarded women who never flirted. Now they were leaning on my chair, laughing at my jokes like they were brilliant.

It’s not charm. It’s not confidence. It’s this.

I checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Same face. Same tired eyes—except now there’s a flicker of something beneath the surface. Something dangerous.

My phone buzzes. A message from Maya: 'We need to talk. You’ve been… different.'

And I know—this isn’t just about energy anymore.