The sunroom still held the warmth of late afternoon when Scarlett came back, showered, a different silk robe knotted at her waist. Damp hair clung to her neck. Sabrina and Lexi were already waiting. A laptop sat open on the low table between the loungers.

Scarlett sat with her knees together. The yes from earlier was still sitting in her chest like a stone she had agreed to swallow.

“I’ve been thinking about the size, ” she said. “I don’t want to look fake. Medium. Enough to notice. Still natural.”

Sabrina’s smile was the warm one she used when she had already decided the ending.

“Medium is safe. Safe is what you have now. Safe is why he rolls over.” She leaned in. “You have the waist for more than medium. More than Lexi. More than me. If you’re changing the body, don’t give him something he can get used to in a month.”

Lexi tucked one leg under herself. The high curve of her ass shifted under the dress.

“Medium still reads wife. Extreme reads problem. You said you wanted him to want you. A little lift won’t do that. A shelf will.”

Scarlett’s fingers twisted in the silk. Heat flickered low in her stomach at the way they talked — as if her body were already on the table between them.

“The bigger it is, ” she said slowly, “the harder it is for him. With his size.”

Sabrina did not flinch.

“Yes. More projection, more distance. Some positions get shallow. He may not reach the way he used to. That’s mechanics.” A small tilt of her head. “It’s also the point. It stops him being lazy. It forces the question.”

Lexi said, “And if he can’t handle it, you’ll know.”

Scarlett’s face warmed. She looked at her hands.

“Does it cause problems for you? With Derrick. With Marcus.”

Sabrina’s voice stayed even.

“It changes the angle. There’s more body in the way. Derrick is thick enough and long enough that he still gets all the way in. Marcus the same. When a man is built for it, a high-profile BBL is just more to hold. More to fuck against. Size solves it. Lack of size makes it obvious.”

The words sat on Scarlett’s skin like warm oil. Her nipples tightened against the robe.

Sabrina turned the laptop.

“You should see this kind of body in motion. Not clinic photos. Sex. So you know what you’re choosing.”

The screen showed a white woman on her hands and knees, ass high and huge, a clean shelf. Behind her a dark-skinned man held her hips and drove in. The camera caught every inch of him disappearing. The size difference was blunt. There was nowhere for Scarlett’s eyes to go except there.

Her breath caught.

Lexi reached over and scrolled. Another clip. Another. Always the same pairing: exaggerated pale asses, thick Black cocks that treated the extra flesh like a handle, not a wall.

“This is the useful material, ” Sabrina said. “These men know how to work with projection. Watch the stance. Watch the grip. Watch that they still go deep. Learn it. Later you can show Cody. Give him a chance once you’re healed.”

Scarlett’s mouth was dry. Between her legs she was already wet.

“If you leave the site on default, ” Lexi said, “it will keep handing you petite girls and soft couples. That doesn’t help you. Filter it. High-profile BBL. Interracial. Then everything it shows you is on-subject.”

Sabrina put the laptop in Scarlett’s hands.

“You set it. So the algorithm knows what you’re studying.”

Scarlett stared at the screen. Her thumb hovered. Part of her knew this was not research. The part that had been left aching too many nights wanted the next thumbnail anyway.

She clicked. Category. Body type. Race. The way they told her.

“Just for research, ” she whispered.

“Of course, ” Sabrina said. “Only for research.”

The house went quiet after dinner. Cody slept on his side, faced away, breath even. Scarlett lay still until she trusted it. Then she took the laptop into the bathroom, locked the door, and sat on the closed lid with the screen lighting the tiles.

The filters were still on. She told herself she would override them.

She typed doctor porn.

The first row loaded: a white woman on an exam table, waist snatched, implants high, a dense shelf spilling off the edge of the paper. The doctor standing between her knees was Black. Thick. Gloved hands on her hips like the appointment had already ended. Scarlett stared, then scrolled. Every thumbnail was the same pairing.

She tried again. Massage. Black hands on a pale, enhanced ass. Wife amateur. A white husband on a chair in the corner while a darker man used his wife from behind. White dick.

That one made her pause.

The results still had white men in them. They were just not the ones doing the fucking. They watched. They held a thigh open. They finished in their own hand while a Black cock worked the high-profile ass Scarlett had spent the afternoon agreeing to build.

She tried couple and romantic and normal. The algorithm did not care what word she used. It kept handing her the same sentence in different rooms.

Her thumb hovered over reset. The settings path was three menus deep. She opened the first, closed it, opened it again. Cody was on the other side of the door. Starting over felt like admitting she had installed this on purpose.

“This is stupid, ” she whispered.

She clicked the doctor video because it was already buffering.

The white patient had the body Sabrina wanted for her — tiny waist, heavy shelf, tits that sat too high to be luck. The Black doctor did not rush. He lifted her hips off the table and went in like the extra flesh was the point. Scarlett’s mouth went dry. She told herself she was watching the angle. Her eyes stayed on the stretch.

One hand was between her thighs before she decided to move it.

She was soaked.

She switched clips when the shame spiked. A living room. A white husband saying something she did not hear. A Black man holding the wife’s waist like the extra curve was the reason he was there. Scarlett’s fingers pressed harder. Cody’s soft, sorry attempts rose up and fell away. These men did not apologize. They fitted.

She came fast and messy on the third video, thighs shaking, free hand clamped over her mouth. On screen the woman broke on a stroke that went in to the hilt. Scarlett’s hips jerked after it like her body had taken instructions.

A knock landed while she was still coming down.

“Scarlett?” Cody, groggy through the wood. “You okay in there?”

Her slick fingers slammed the laptop shut. The doorknob rattled once.

In the dark her heart hammered. Her pussy was still wet. Every search she had typed was still behind her eyes, and every one of them had ended the same way.

“I’m fine, ” she said, voice unsteady. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She looked at her flushed face in the mirror and told herself it was only research.

She heard him walk back to bed.

She already knew she would open the laptop again the second he left town.

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