After several long and meticulous weeks, the research had finally come to an end. And now, in our hands, we held what might be the key to awakening Zeruel's mother from her deep, unending slumber.
It was in the form of a pill.
Not a syrup. Not a vial of liquid.
But a small, unassuming pill.
There was no telltale sheen of fluid, no scent or texture to give away its origin. It looked perfectly ordinary—just like any over-the-counter capsule you'd see in a pharmacy. But we knew better.
The original base material, my semen, had undergone heavy refinement. The sperm cells—the actual sperm themselves—had been extracted entirely, removed and discarded during the process. The rest had been liquified and purified, leaving behind nothing but the essence, the concentrated life force.
The result? A pill that didn't look, feel, or taste like semen at all.
Still, even with the transformation, there was no denying the truth.
That whoever took this pill would, in a way, be consuming semen.
