Getting a hold of more data

I looked at Marc—his face was a mask of scientific awe and primal terror. He was staring at my—Lena's—spread thighs with the intensity of a man looking into the heart of a supernova. It was time to let him process the raw data, but he couldn't do it while standing there like a stunned statue.

"Here," I said, reaching for the iBod which was still pulsing in my hand. "Take this. Analyze the logs. Check the particle density and the biological synchronization."

I stepped closer to him, the friction of Lena's thighs rubbing together sending a fresh wave of electric heat through my borrowed nerves. As he reached out with trembling fingers to take the device, I leaned in, whispering in her sultry tone, "Don't just look at the numbers, Marc. Look at how well the subject is... performing."

With a mischievous glint in my eye, I turned on my heel—or rather, her heels—and began to walk toward the lab door. The gait was different now; it was a sway of hips and a heavy, rhythmic brush of thighs that felt incredibly provocative.

"Where are you going?!" Marc called out, his voice cracking as he stared at my feminine form leaving the room.

"I need to conduct a secondary field test," I tossed over my shoulder, giving him one last, lingering look of sheer mischief. "To ensure the... structural integrity... remains consistent."

Without waiting for his response, I slipped out of the lab and hurried back toward the hallway. The sensation was surreal; walking in Lena's body while feeling her heavy, swollen folds shifting with every step made my own thoughts race. It felt like running a marathon in silk and lace.