Critical Risk – Immediate Intervention Required

"Based on your responses," George announced, reaching for tissues to clean himself, "I'm classifying you as 'Critical Risk – Immediate Intervention Required.'"

Rebecca rolled onto her side, her expression dazed and conflicted. "What does that mean?"

"It means you require regular reassessment and targeted intervention to prevent inevitable infidelity," George explained, pulling his boxers and pants back on. "I recommend bi-weekly sessions initially."

"Bi-weekly?" Rebecca repeated, sitting up slowly and wincing at the feeling of his cum leaking from her. "I don't think I—"

"Rebecca," George interrupted sternly, "your assessment results are among the most concerning I've seen this month. Without proper intervention, statistical models predict infidelity within 60 days with 94% certainty."

The fabricated statistics worked their magic on her manipulated mind. Rebecca's face paled.

"I don't want to cheat on my husband," she whispered, genuine distress in her voice.

"Of course you don't consciously want to," George agreed sympathetically. "That's why intervention is so important. Your conscious mind and your body are currently at odds. Our program realigns them."

He handed her a card with his phone number. "I want you to call me in three days to schedule your first intervention session. In the meantime, avoid sexual contact with your husband—it can create confusion during the initial calibration period."

Rebecca nodded numbly, taking the card. "And this really works? The intervention?"

"When followed correctly, our success rate is over 95%," George assured her, helping her gather her scattered clothing. "But it requires complete commitment to the process."

As Rebecca dressed in silent contemplation, George allowed himself a moment of sadistic triumph. Not only had he fucked this married woman under completely false pretenses, but he'd also ensured repeat "sessions" where he could continue to exploit her fears and manipulate her body.

"Oh, and Rebecca?" he added as she prepared to leave the van, her hair disheveled and her face still flushed from their encounter. "Don't shower for at least six hours. The assessment chemicals need time to properly calibrate with your system."

It was complete nonsense, of course, but the thought of her driving home with his cum inside her, gradually soaking into her panties throughout the afternoon, was too delicious to resist.

"O-okay," she agreed, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to contradict his professional advice.

"I'll see you soon for your first intervention," George said, opening the van door for her. "Remember—complete confidentiality."

Rebecca nodded once more before hurrying across the parking lot, unconsciously walking with her thighs pressed closer together than usual, trying to contain the evidence of her "assessment."

George watched her go with a satisfied smirk. The Infidelity Inspector had claimed another victim—and this one would be returning for more.