Try to resist

You try to lock your knees. Try to keep your spine straight, to hold onto some fragment of the person you were two minutes ago when you still inhabited your own skull. The engineering part of your brain—the part that designed this conditioning, that calculated the neurotransmitter cascades and reward pathway modifications—knows exactly what's happening. Dopamine flooding the ventral tegmental area. Oxytocin binding to receptors in the amygdala. The prefrontal cortex going quiet as older, deeper systems take control.

But knowing doesn't help. Your knees bend anyway.

The descent feels inevitable, like gravity. Your thighs tremble as you lower yourself, hands coming to rest on your thighs in a position you never consciously decided on. The cool deck plates against your knees send sensation rippling up through this body's modified nervous system, everything amplified, everything more. You can feel your pulse in your throat, between your legs, behind your eyes.

"Good girl," Jack says, and the words detonate in your brainstem like shaped charges. Your breath catches. Heat blooms across your chest, your face. You hate how much you need to hear those words again. "You really did exceptional work on this conditioning. I'm almost impressed."

He steps closer, your former body moving with confidence you never felt in it. His hand—your hand—reaches out and cups your chin, tilting your face up. You can see the arousal in his expression, the hunger. But there's something else too. Curiosity. Like he's examining an interesting piece of equipment.

"How much can you resist?" he asks. "Try something for me. Stand up."

Every fiber of your being screams to obey, but beneath the conditioning, some core part of you—the part that's still Jack Chen, brilliant engineer, that remembers designing this trap—tries to push back. Your muscles quiver. Your hands press harder against your thighs. For a moment, one impossible moment, you almost believe you can do it.

Then Jack's eyes narrow. "I said stand up. Now."

The command cracks through your resistance like a sledgehammer through safety glass. You surge upward, movements fluid and immediate, this body responding to his voice the way it was designed to. When you're on your feet, standing at attention with your shoulders back and your modified breasts thrust forward, tears of frustration burn in your eyes.

"That's what I thought," Jack says. He walks a slow circle around you, appraising. "You're completely helpless, aren't you? Every system in that brain is telling you to submit. To please me. To be a good little fucktoy." His hand trails across your lower back, making you shudder. "And the best part? You can't even blame me. You did this to her. To yourself."

The frigate's proximity alarm chimes again. Ten minutes.

"On your knees again," Jack says, already unfastening the shipsuit. "I want to feel what this mouth can do before the inspection team arrives. We need to look like a normal couple, after all."