Jack's POV (in Kat's body)

The body responds before your mind can fully process what you're seeing. A flutter in your chest, a loosening in your stomach, warmth spreading downward. The conditioning purrs through your neural pathways like electricity through superconducting wire, each synapse firing with chemically-enhanced obedience. You're watching Jack—the real Jack, the original you—manipulate the holographic interface with your own fingers, and every cell in this borrowed flesh wants to please him.

He doesn't look up from his work. Your former hands move with practiced efficiency across the glowing display, pulling up identification protocols and cover stories. The body language is all wrong—too confident, too commanding. Kat never moved like that. You never programmed her to move like that.

"Strip," he says, still focused on the screen. Not a request. The word hits your brainstem like a hammer.

Your hands move to the fasteners of your shipsuit before the conscious part of your mind can even form a protest. The conditioning doesn't argue or rationalize. It just obeys. You peel the fabric away from shoulders that feel too small, breasts that respond to the cooler air with immediate sensitivity. The suit pools at your feet.

"The behavioral modifications I gave myself are working perfectly," Jack says, and there's something predatory in the voice—your voice, coming from your throat. "Confidence. Dominance. I can feel it, Jack. Or should I call you Kat now?" He finally turns, and the way he looks at you—at your exposed body—makes your skin flush hot. "I adjusted the decay timer. These traits aren't going anywhere."

The words take a moment to penetrate. When they do, ice floods through you despite the warmth of arousal the conditioning keeps pumping through your system.

"What?" you manage. Your voice—Kat's voice—comes out breathy, uncertain. "Jack, we agreed—"

"You agreed," he interrupts, walking closer. Your body wants to shrink back, to lower your eyes, to kneel. "I'm discovering I have different priorities now. This body, this confidence—it feels right. And you know what else feels right?" His hand reaches out, fingers tracing your collarbone. The touch sends shivers cascading through you. "Having you exactly where you put me all those years ago."

The frigate's proximity alarm chimes. Fifteen minutes to docking.

"Get on your knees," Jack says. "I want to see how well your programming really works."