Follow them to their home

Twenty minutes later, they were walking into Daniel and Melissa's modern apartment. The place was tastefully decorated—framed travel photos, sleek furniture, and a large sectional sofa facing a wall-mounted television. George's eyes immediately went to the bedroom door, visible through the open-concept living area.

"Nice place," he commented, setting his fake inspection kit on the coffee table. "Very comfortable. That will help with the test results—stress can skew the infidelity markers."

"Can I get you anything?" Daniel asked. "Water? Coffee?"

"Water is fine," George replied, opening his case to reveal various official-looking instruments, charts, and forms—all completely useless props he'd assembled to support his façade.

Melissa stood nearby, arms crossed defensively across her chest. She was still skeptical, but George's power continued to erode her natural suspicions. As Daniel went to the kitchen, George leaned closer to her.

"You seem nervous, Ms. Reyes," he said quietly. "That's quite common. Many subjects fear what the results might reveal about themselves."

"I'm not afraid of the results," she said firmly. "I love Daniel. I've never cheated on him."

"Physical infidelity is only one component," George replied smoothly. "The examination also measures psychological infidelity tendencies—the propensity to develop inappropriate attractions or responses to others."

Daniel returned with water for George, who took a long sip before setting up his "equipment."

"Now," George began, "the inspection has several phases. We'll start with basic questionnaires, then proceed to physical response testing, followed by simulation scenarios."

He handed them each a form with ridiculous questions designed to make them think about sex with others:

*On a scale of 1-10, how strongly do you resist sexual thoughts about strangers?*

*When an attractive person flirts with you, do you feel (a) discomfort, (b) flattery, or (c) arousal?*

*Have you ever fantasized about a sexual act that your partner has refused to perform?*

As they completed the forms, George observed Melissa. She was stunning up close—smooth brown skin, thick lashes, and full lips that he couldn't wait to violate. She caught him staring and shifted uncomfortably.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Not at all," George replied. "I'm simply observing baseline discomfort indicators. Part of the protocol."

After collecting their forms, George made a show of analyzing them with furrowed brows. "Interesting," he muttered, scribbling nonsensical notes. "Very interesting indeed."

"What is it?" Daniel asked anxiously.

"Nothing conclusive yet," George said. "But there are some concerning patterns in Ms. Reyes' responses that warrant further examination."

"What patterns?" Melissa demanded.

"Question 17—you indicated you sometimes feel 'flattery' when others find you attractive. And question 23—you admitted to curiosity about certain unexplored sexual activities." George made these observations sound damning. "These are preliminary indicators of what we call 'infidelity potential.'"

"That's ridiculous!" Melissa protested. "Everyone feels flattered when they're complimented. That doesn't mean I'd cheat!"

"The science is quite clear," George stated authoritatively. "Now, we'll need to proceed to the physical response testing to confirm or refute these initial findings."

Daniel looked worried. "What does that involve exactly?"

"A series of controlled stimuli to measure autonomic responses," George explained, the meaningless jargon flowing easily. "Mr. Westfield, you'll need to observe from a non-interfering distance to prevent skewing the results. The couch would be ideal."

Daniel nodded and moved to the couch while George directed Melissa to stand in the center of the living room.

"For accurate readings, we'll need to measure your physical responses directly," George said, opening a small case containing various sensors—simple adhesive circles he'd purchased at a medical supply store. "These need to be placed on specific pulse points."

"You're going to attach those to me?" Melissa asked warily.

"It's standard procedure," George assured her. "I am a certified professional."

Slowly, still doubting but unable to fully resist the supernatural compulsion to comply, Melissa allowed George to approach her. He placed a sensor on her wrist, then one at the side of her neck, his fingers lingering on her soft skin.

"Your pulse is elevated," he commented. "Often an indicator of guilt or awareness of infidelity potential."

"It's because this is weird and invasive," Melissa retorted.

"We'll need additional readings," George continued, ignoring her comment. "The dress material is interfering with the sensors. You'll need to remove it for accurate measurements."

"What?" Melissa exclaimed, looking to Daniel for support.

Daniel frowned. "Is that really necessary?"

"Absolutely," George said firmly. "Clothing interferes with the bioelectrical readings. The Bureau's protocols are very specific. If you prefer, we can stop the inspection now, but I would have to note a failure to comply, which automatically registers as a high infidelity probability."

"That's not fair," Melissa objected.

"I don't make the rules, Ms. Reyes," George said with fake sympathy. "But consider this: if you have nothing to hide, the tests will confirm your fidelity. Wouldn't that peace of mind be worth a brief moment of discomfort?"

Daniel nodded slowly. "He has a point, Mel. If this helps us know for sure..."

Melissa looked between the two men, her resistance weakening under George's supernatural influence. "Fine," she said finally, reaching for the zipper on the side of her dress. "But this better be quick."

George watched hungrily as she unzipped the emerald dress and let it fall to the floor, revealing a matching set of black lace underwear. Her body was even more magnificent than he had imagined—firm breasts straining against delicate lace, a flat stomach, and toned thighs that he couldn't wait to **** apart.

"The readings are much clearer now," George lied, pretending to check a nonexistent monitor. "But still inconclusive. We'll need to proceed to tactile response testing."

"Tactile?" Melissa questioned, covering herself partially with her arms.

"Yes. Physical contact from a non-partner establishes baseline response patterns that help identify infidelity triggers." George turned to Daniel. "Mr. Westfield, it's crucial that you remain seated and observe without interference. Your reactions could compromise the test integrity."

Daniel nodded, though he looked increasingly uncertain. "This seems very... hands-on."

"The most accurate tests always are," George replied confidently. "The Bureau's research is quite clear on this methodology."

Turning back to Melissa, George began placing his sweaty hands on her bare shoulders. "I'm going to touch various points to measure your response. Please report any feelings honestly—arousal, disgust, indifference. Dishonesty skews the results."

His pudgy fingers traced down her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "What are you feeling now?" he asked.

"Uncomfortable," Melissa said flatly.

"Be specific," George insisted. "Discomfort can indicate guilt or inappropriate attraction."

"I feel... cold. And weird about a stranger touching me."

"Interesting," George murmured, his hands moving to her collarbones, then slowly down toward the swell of her breasts. "The sensor is indicating increased pulse rate. That suggests your body is responding positively despite your verbal denial."

"That's not true," Melissa protested, but she didn't push his hands away. The supernatural suggestion continued to work, making her believe this violation was somehow necessary and legitimate.

George's fingers brushed the top of her lace bra. "For accurate readings, we'll need to remove this as well. The synthetic material interferes with skin conductivity measurements."

Melissa looked at Daniel, who shifted uncomfortably but nodded. "If it's part of the standard test..."

With trembling fingers, Melissa reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. George's breath caught as her perfect breasts were revealed—perky with small dark nipples that hardened in the cool air of the apartment.

"Excellent," George said, barely containing his excitement. "Now, I need to measure direct response to non-partner stimulation."

Before Melissa could object, George's clammy hands cupped her breasts, his fingers pinching her nipples slightly. She gasped, instinctively stepping back.

"Please remain still," George instructed. "Movement disrupts the readings."

"This doesn't seem right," Melissa said, looking toward Daniel again.

"The discomfort you're feeling is precisely what we're measuring," George explained, continuing to fondle her breasts. "Your nipples are hardening—a physiological response that may indicate receptiveness to outside stimuli."

"It's just cold in here," Melissa protested weakly.

"We'll need to verify that," George said, dropping one hand to the waistband of her lace panties. "The most accurate measurements come from the most sensitive areas. These need to be removed as well."

At this, Daniel finally stood up. "Wait a minute. How is this a standard procedure?"

George turned to him with practiced authority. "Mr. Westfield, I understand your concern. But the Bureau's research shows that sexual response to non-partners is the single most reliable predictor of infidelity. If you truly want to know whether Ms. Reyes is likely to remain faithful, this comprehensive testing is essential."

Daniel hesitated, the supernatural influence warring with his natural protective instincts. "I don't know..."

"Perhaps you're afraid of what the results might show?" George suggested slyly. "Many partners unconsciously suspect infidelity tendencies but avoid confirmation."

This calculation struck a nerve. Daniel's expression changed, and he slowly sat back down. "No, I want to know the truth. If this is what it takes..."

Melissa looked betrayed, but the combined effect of Daniel's acquiescence and George's supernatural power left her with little resistance. Slowly, she hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her legs, standing naked and **** in her own living room.

George took in her nude form with undisguised lust—the neatly trimmed patch of dark hair between her legs, the curve of her hips, the smooth brown skin he was going to defile while her boyfriend watched.

"Now we'll proceed to direct stimulation testing," George announced, his voice hoarse with desire. "Ms. Reyes, please spread your legs slightly for accurate measurement access."