What Have They Done to Me? Pt. 02 Ch. 04

Ch. 3 Recap: I am introduced to Robby, the COO of Genetech, and manipulate him into falling in love with me and freeing me from the penthouse. He ends up taking me home with him and marrying me. He wanted Genetech to remove the tracking chip to show me how much he trusts me, but they refuse. This makes it impossible for me to escape, though I do get them to finally give me the antidote. I start getting used to life as Robby's wife, believing Genetech doesn't even have the ability to turn me back into a man, but one day, I learn that isn't true.

I couldn't stop thinking about it in the days after that - this revelation that Genetech does, in fact, have the ability to turn me back into a man.

But then again, what did it even matter? The only chance I had was to get the tracking chip removed so I could run away and then figure out a plan to somehow force or convince Genetech to change me back. And getting the tracking chip removed was not an option. It was something the Board of Directors would never permit. They wouldn't even allow me to have access to a phone. And it wasn't like I was miserable those days and as desperate to escape as I had been at the penthouse, either.

I had been making an honest effort to enjoy my life with Robby as much as I could, and it wasn't difficult. I wasn't blind to how handsome he was - it was something I tried to avoid admitting to myself for a while but could only keep that up for so long. I don't know if it was something that had developed over time or whether I had the capacity for it all along and it just took a while to accept it. I still found the face of a beautiful woman to be more pleasing on the eyes for me, but I can't deny that I didn't mind the way Robby looked. It's very hard to explain, but there was something about his chiseled features that appealed to me.

I had long since gotten used to kissing a guy, too. Truth be told, I didn't hate it. I don't think I ever really hated it. It felt just as good as kissing a woman - maybe even better, in a way, because the men I had kissed were really skilled at it and always took the lead, and I could just sit back and enjoy it. Even back at the penthouse, I didn't mind making out with Sean, Tyler, and Corey once I had accepted that there was nothing I could do to stop it and might as well try to enjoy it as much as possible. And I'm not going to lie, I did like it when Robby kissed me. I couldn't help but enjoy our long drawn-out makeout sessions, when we would just lay together on the couch or in bed engaging each other's lips and tongue with our own for the longest time. I liked it the best when we still had our clothes on, and I could feel the sexual tension building and building as Robby's level of arousal became more and more untenable, and his arousal would end up having an effect on me, too. I'd feel the heat building in my cheeks and I'd be breathing harder and harder and pushing up against him just as much as he was pushing up against me, like my body was on autopilot (which I suppose it was, in a way).

I had also long since started to find myself admiring the masculine perfection of Robby's body and even enjoying the way my lips and tongue and fingertips could inspire such boundless physical pleasure in him, like he was a musical instrument I had mastered. I still found a woman's nude body to be more pleasing on the eye, but I didn't mind seeing Robby naked like I might have before. Once again, there was something about certain aspects of his body, certain features - the chiseled curvature of his shoulders, the impressive bulge of his biceps, the firm curvature of his chest, the perfect roundness of his butt - which appealed to a part of me. It was something different than, say, the sight of a woman's naked breasts, but it did something to me.

The sex wasn't bad, either. Although there was a big part of me that would rather have been a man fucking a woman, having sex with Robby felt really good. I don't know what it was, but the physical pleasure I experienced as a woman was always far greater than I had ever experienced as a man. Also, Robby always made me orgasm - it seemed to be the sole mission of his life most nights to get me off as many times as he could - and I never got bored of those. He seemed to take immense pleasure in it, like my enjoyment was so much more important to him than his was. I also liked how most of the time he would do all the work, and I could just lay there and enjoy it.

Believe it or not, I didn't even mind going down on him, which was also something I tried to avoid admitting to myself for the longest time. I liked how good it would make him feel, how much he loved it, and it was like his pleasure was contagious. I especially loved the noises he would make, the way he would moan and whisper words of affirmation and praise. I also liked how skilled I had gotten at it back at the penthouse (not that I had a choice). I have to admit I wasn't always wild about swallowing, especially since the craving was no longer a factor. It wasn't something Robby ever asked for or indicated that he expected, unlike back at the penthouse, where it was mandatory. But I kind of felt obligated to, like it would be a bit of a let down if I didn't. And I didn't really want to let him down, so I always did it, despite how gross it was. But I really liked knowing how much it pleased him, although I would always have to resist the urge to gag.

It was kind of like that with massages, too. I really liked massaging Robby. It was something else I got really good at back at the penthouse - once again, not that I had a choice - and Robby didn't hide how good they felt for him, so I liked to do that for him, too. It ended up being something he wouldn't even have to ask me for. We'd be settling in the living room and I'd tell him to take off his shirt and sit on the floor in front of me so I could work his beefy shoulders and arms and back while we watched TV. I really liked the way his breathing would deepen and the little moans and sounds of satisfaction that would escape him, like he couldn't hold them back if he tried. If I was especially pleased with something he did, or if he came back into the house on a Saturday or Sunday after doing something particularly strenuous outside, I'd make him lay down in bed and straddle him, working his tense or exhausted muscles until my hands got tired. He liked to massage me, too, seeming to delight in learning exactly the way I liked to be touched, and - although I did enjoy these a lot - I usually liked to give them more than receive them.

One thing I can't deny, too, was how good it felt to be held by him, especially the way he always held me after having sex. I had felt this way at the penthouse, too. It took me a while to allow myself to just accept it and stop fighting it - to simply close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of being held by another person all the while they praised and caressed me, even if it was a man doing it. Never in my life had I ever imagined I could feel so appreciated, so cherished, than I would at that moment. I felt something else, too, which was always hard to put my finger on. I guess you could say I kind of felt... safe when we were like that. After all, I was in the arms of a big, strong man. It wasn't something I would have ever appreciated before, to say the least. But, now that I was a woman, it was... different. It was like deep down inside, my newly feminized subconscious recognized how physically weak and vulnerable I was and that this brawny, muscular, powerful guy would be able to protect me from any threat that might come our way. Obviously, it wasn't like a bear was going to break into our bedroom, but it was as if my feminine mind was evolutionarily primed to feel such a thing, and I relished it.

Truthfully, I was always excited for Robby to come home at the end of the day, and it wasn't just because doing housework could be a little monotonous and I'd get a little lonely. With Robby, I'd never get bored. He had a great sense of humor and could always make me laugh, and we had a really good time together, even if we were just watching TV. We seemed to click well from the very beginning and never ran out of things to say to each other, and going out with him was fun. At some point, I realized he had become the best friend I ever had.

I liked the lifestyle Robby was able to afford me. He was extremely wealthy, more wealthy than I think I even understood. As nice as his house was, in a high-class community with a lavish in-ground pool and tall ceilings, big rooms, and several excess bedrooms and bathrooms we didn't even need, I could tell he could have easily afforded something even grander. I wanted for nothing. He would always insist that I only buy the most expensive of everything - groceries, make-up, you name it. I really started to get into clothes over time, especially dresses - I just couldn't help it as I got more and more used to wearing them - and if I found a dress I was interested in and thought was pretty, he would insist that I get it, even if it cost a thousand dollars. Think about it - a thousand dollars for something I might wear only once or twice a month, just around the house or out to the grocery store or on one of our dates.

We were also able to do things I never imagined I'd be able to do before. We'd only go to the most expensive restaurants, and we'd spend a whole Saturday or Sunday on his big boat out on the ocean. We started to do this nearly every weekend if the weather cooperated. I loved those days and looked forward to them, since I came to find that I absolutely loved the water. I'd lounge around in a skimpy bikini, knowing Robby would appreciate it, and I'd enjoy the view and the motion of the boat as Robby drove it miles from shore. Then he'd cut the engine and join me in back, and my bikini would come off in no time and we'd make slow and lazy love under the sun as the boat drifted amidst the gentle waves. And sometimes I would dive into the water naked afterwards and enjoy a swim, or he would pull me on a towable tube which I always found to be incredibly thrilling. And on the way back, I would join him at the controls, admiring his skills and knowledge and his ability to always control the vessel so flawlessly. And he would explain what he was doing at times and then allow me to drive the boat myself for a while, which was always exciting.

We even started traveling for a few days at a time, always flying first class. We went to Las Vegas and Miami and New York City like it was nothing, spending just a few days there and then returning home like it was nothing more than a simple day trip. We'd only stay in the most lavish hotels and we'd occupy ourselves during the day by shopping and sight-seeing then go out to dinner at the city's premier restaurants. Then afterwards we would end up back at the hotel naked in the jacuzzi sipping champagne.

The thing I liked the best, though, by far, was how much Robby loved and appreciated me. It wasn't just my body, although he obviously adored it and could spend the longest time just exploring and drifting along my skin with his lips, tongue, and fingertips. It was everything about me. It seemed like I could do no wrong, even when I didn't do a very good job cleaning the house or left one of his dress shirts wrinkled or ruined dinner (which unfortunately wasn't an unusual occurrence). I could always see it in his eyes and in the way he talked to me and kissed me and held me and made love to me. I had never known what that was like, and truthfully, I loved it.

So I was enjoying my new life. I really was. But a part of me never stopped wanting to go back to being a man. As happy as I was, I thought about it a lot. A big part of me wanted to be a man like Robby, with a body like his, and be with a woman like me. There was simply no denying it, no escaping it. I'd be watching TV and a beautiful half-naked woman would appear on screen and I would feel a surge of desire for her, a relentless need to pull her into my arms and kiss her and feel her body. And I would remember how much fun it was when Sean, Tyler, and Corey would hook me up with another Genetech test subject like Laura. That got me wondering if Robby would ever want to do something similar. I found myself fantasizing about it more and more as time went on until I finally decided to say something about it.

It happened on a Sunday afternoon. We were both in bed, sweaty and naked, our clothes tossed about the room. Robby had just been on top of me as I was laying on my stomach, and he had done something he had never done before - he had taken hold of my hair and yanked it toward the end, pulling my head back, as he came inside me. I could tell he had gotten a little carried away and caught up in the moment, although he didn't do it nearly as hard as Sean, Tyler, and Corey would. It gave me an idea of how I could broach the subject.

"I kind of liked how you pulled my hair," I lied as I curled up against him, draping my arm over his wide, bare torso and nuzzling my head against his shoulder. "I sometimes... fantasize about things like that."

"Really," he said rhetorically, sounding surprised.

"Sometimes," I emphasized, not wanting him to get the wrong idea and make it part of our daily routine. "Out of curiosity... are there things... you fantasize about?"

He paused for a couple seconds, affectionately stroking my arm. I got the unmistakable impression that there was something on his mind that he didn't want to reveal. But all he ended up saying was: "We already do all the things I fantasize about."

I wasn't going to let it go that easily. "Come on," I urged him. "There has to be something."

He paused again. "Well," he said, "now that you mention it, there is this one thing..."

My hopes soared at this. "What is it?" His silence told me he wasn't sure if he wanted to open up about it, or maybe he was worried how I would respond. "Come on," I urged him again.

"Okay," he finally said. "I really like the idea of... tying you up...."

This obviously wasn't what I was hoping for, but I didn't want to make him feel bad or regret telling me that. "Oh. Well, you can do that any time." I paused for a few seconds, trying to think of the right words. "I'm surprised. I figured it would be... bringing another woman to bed with us."

"Nah," he replied. "I'm not really into that kind of thing."

"Really?" I asked. "I thought that was something... all men fantasize about."

"Not me," he said. "There's something kind of... weird about it, I guess."

"Oh," I said, trying not to sound disappointed.

"Why do you ask?" he said, turning his head toward me.

I wasn't quite ready to give up hope. I returned his gaze and smiled. "I just wanted you to know that... I'm game for anything. So... if that's something you're ever into..."

Robby was giving me a funny look all of a sudden, as if he was beginning to get a sense for why I was discussing this. It became clear to me that it wasn't something he was ever going to want to do, and I didn't want him to know how I really felt about it, so I scrambled to find the right words to extricate myself from this topic. "It's just that, I want you to know I'd be willing to do anything for you, no matter what." I gave him a mischievous smile. "Just don't make it hurt too bad."

He smiled back at me. "No promises," he said playfully before giving me a quick kiss.

So that's all there is to it, I realized later. I will never again experience the feel of another woman, and I found this to be unusually crushing. Back at the penthouse, it had almost been a weekly occurrence that they would have me fooling around with another sexy woman in front of them. And I would often think about Genetech eventually transforming me back into a man, preferably one as hot and desirable as the boys were, and I'd get to have sex with a woman any time I wanted. Even when I thought I'd be condemned to having the body of a woman for the rest of my life, I had envisioned myself having sex with women as a woman eventually.

But it was only then that I realized - Robby and I are married now, committed to forsaking all others. Which means the only one I'll presumably ever have sex with for the rest of my life is Robby. My only hope of ever being able to enjoy another woman had been if he had been open to having a threesome, and it was clear that he wasn't. That was surprisingly hard on me, and it made me yearn for things to be different.

There was another reason why I wanted to be transformed back into a man, which is hard to talk about. I had been feeling something I never imagined I would ever feel, never imagined I even could feel. It was something I never saw coming, something I never would have expected in a million years - I wanted to have a baby.

It happened the first time I found myself home alone watching TV while Robby was at work. I had finished all the cleaning and laundry I had set out to do that day and had an hour or so to spare, and I found myself putting on one of those game shows that air in the middle of the day. It went to a commercial break and there was an advertisement which came on for a baby-related product - I don't even remember what - and then there it was, right there on screen, being held and cooed at by its mother. And that's when I felt it - this sudden incredible yearning deep inside of me which caught me completely by surprise, something profound, something primal: the yearning to have a baby of my own. It was so foreign and unexpected that I barely understood it at the time, but it was so overpowering, so overwhelming, that it suddenly felt like this was the sole mission of my life. It was something that simply had to happen - Robby was going to come home and I was going to tell him how I felt and I wasn't going to take no for an answer and I was going to find a way to convince him. But then, of course, I remembered that it's not an option - I can't get pregnant - and I felt utterly and completely crushed.

It would happen that way almost any time there was a commercial or a scene in a show or movie in which a baby would appear on screen, and it would catch me completely by surprise, like a sucker punch to the gut. I would feel two things with unbelievable intensity: first, this extraordinary longing to be holding one in my arms, and then this insatiable need for Robby to make love to me, to make a baby inside of me. The notion of getting pregnant had initially horrified me, and I remember how relieved I was when Dr. Reilly told me it couldn't happen. But that had obviously changed. There were times when I actually felt desperate to get pregnant and absolutely devastated when I remembered I couldn't. It made me unbelievably sad at times. More than once, in the middle of the day, while Robby was at work, I found myself crying over it for the longest time.

It got to the point where I had to look away or change the channel if it happened. I wondered if this was normal and natural for a woman my age to feel. I was, after all, a young woman of child-bearing age, and I wasn't immune to the same urges that had helped ensure the perpetuity of the human species throughout history. But I had a feeling that wasn't all there was to it. I wondered if the way Genetech had designed and hardwired their test subjects inadvertently made me feel this with greater intensity than normal, the same way my hormones were affected, which seemed to make me get physically aroused so easily. It may have even been intentional. There were obviously certain benefits for the men in my life - after all, at times like those, I'd become absolutely insatiable. Robby could fuck me a dozen times in a row and I'd still be desperate for more, begging him to cum inside me.

I had occasionally considered the idea of talking to Robby about adopting a baby, but I didn't think he would want that, and adopting another woman's child wasn't nearly the same thing as giving birth to my own. Over time, I learned to live with it, to accept it, and I learned to control it after a while, out of necessity. But I didn't want to have to feel this way anymore - it was like something was missing from my life that I knew I would never have - and I knew it would never go away until I was transformed back into a man.

It wasn't just wanting to be with a woman, and to escape this entirely unwelcome yearning to be a mother, either. There were other reasons I wanted to be changed back, too, which I thought about often. I wanted to be able to have a phone; to be able to play video games and message people online like I used to; to be able to go wherever I wanted without knowing that someone was monitoring me all the time. I wanted all that, too - I wanted to be free. Although I was happy with Robby, I only had two choices because of the control Genetech had over me - to be his wife, or to go back to being a sex slave. I liked the life I now had with Robby, but I didn't choose it. It was forced upon me. I wanted to live my own life, choose my own path.

But, of course, it was all so hopeless. I was trapped. Escape was impossible. Which, come to think of it, wasn't so bad when I really thought about it, so I was more than okay with it.

But all that changed the day I saw the combination to Robby's briefcase.

It was something I never really paid much attention to. It was a traditional-style executive case, enveloped in rich brown leather with gold hinges and a five-digit lock. He brought it with him to the office every day; occasionally, I'd also see him reference papers from it while he was on the phone with someone from the company. He never left it open, though I couldn't say I was ever very curious about what was inside of it. It didn't have any bearing on my life, so I never really gave it any thought.

It happened on a Thursday. We had just finished dinner and settled in the living room to watch TV. Robby was sitting next to me on the couch with his arm around me when he suddenly slapped his leg.

"I almost forgot!" he said, turning toward me with a smile. "I have a surprise for you."

He immediately got to his feet and began making his way toward the front foyer. He seemed extremely excited to show it to me. I could have just continued sitting there on the couch and waited for him to return with it, but I was genuinely interested in what the surprise could be, so I got to my feet and followed him. He was only a few steps ahead of me so that, by the time he arrived and crouched down in the entryway where he always kept his briefcase, I was directly behind him as he began arranging the numbers on the lock. I don't know if he would have given it any thought - if it was something he normally would have tried to hide from me. If so, he seemed too excited at the moment. Under normal circumstances, he would have had no need to hide it from me, because I was never in close proximity to him when he opened it, and he always shut it right after. But this time, it was pretty obvious that I had a clear view as he entered the code - 5-7-2-9-3 - and he seemed not to care.

Robby opened the briefcase, reached in, and pulled out something which completely surprised me - a stack of Batman comic books. He handed them to me.

"You mentioned the other day that you used to be into Batman," he explained. And it's true - I had mentioned that the other day. An ad came on for the newest Batman movie and I expressed interest in going to see it with him, mentioning that I had always been a fan growing up. It wasn't an obsession, but I had always been fond of collecting Batman comics - until, that is, video games began capturing my full attention. "I asked the comic store owner to pick out ten of the best he had, a mix from the years."

I started rifling through them. Curiously, I found myself reciting the briefcase combination again in my head - 5-7-2-9-3 - though I wasn't sure why and shifted my attention back to the comics. Some were published way before the time period I had been familiar with, but looked interesting; one of them I actually remember owning. It was probably still in my collection, tucked away in a box in my closet, when Genetech took over my life. Others were a lot newer, with artistic styles I wasn't familiar with.

Then, just as curiously as before, it happened again - 5-7-2-9-3 - before I shrugged it aside, unsure as to why it was sticking out in my mind.

"That's just the tip of the iceberg," Robby said. "I want you to read these and decide what you like, then - this weekend - we're going to that comic store, and you're going to pick out any issues you want." Then, he added, "I was going to get the first edition, but he didn't have it." I almost chuckled at this - Robby clearly knew nothing about comic books or how rare and expensive that particular edition is - but it was endearing how he was making an attempt.

I was continuing to look through the issues, listening to what he was saying. (5-7-2-9-3.) I found myself incredibly moved that he had made such a gesture. (5-7-2-9-3.) Nobody had ever done something like this for me.

It kept happening again and again - 5-7-2-9-3. 5-7-2-9-3. 5-7-2-9-3. And then, it was gradually starting to piece together in my mind, almost on its own: Robby's briefcase, left unattended right there in the entryway all night; the papers it contained, all of which probably pertained to Genetech; and the combination printer/copier in his home office, which was right there on the first floor, a good distance away from our bedroom where he'd be sleeping.

I felt a surge of excitement, but I knew I had to bury that for the time being. It wouldn't do for him to suspect I was up to something after I had just seen him enter the code to his briefcase. I didn't know if I was being overly paranoid - but then again, I couldn't afford not to be.

I looked at him and smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, honey," I said, leaning in and kissing him tenderly. "That was so sweet of you. I'm going to read some of these right now." I flashed him a flirty smile. "Then, I'm just going to have to find some way to express my... appreciation."

It was the very next day that I began to put my plan into motion. I didn't even give it a second thought. I had thought about escaping for so long, thinking it was impossible - and now, I might actually have a chance. Looking back, I realize I wasn't fully contemplating what it would be like and what would happen if I succeeded. I'm not saying I wouldn't have still gone through with it if I had. I just don't know. It was very, very confusing. All I know is I should have given it a little more thought, but I was still locked into this notion that it was something I had to do, no matter what. And once I set my mind to it, it was like the matter was settled - like the decision had been made and there was no turning back.

I knew I had to be very careful and take precautions. I knew, for example, that the entire perimeter of the property was covered by security cameras - I was sure it was for my benefit as opposed to something Robby did on his own before I entered the picture to deter robbers - which meant my every move could be observed. And I knew all it would take would be one single cause for concern, one single reason for suspicion, and then Genetech would probably take even harsher measures to keep me secured, and escaping really would be impossible. But there was one thing I needed - or, rather, two things - and I knew for a fact that Robby didn't keep them in the house. The company would have never allowed it, for obvious reasons. I could have easily gotten them while out shopping, but not with the driver watching my every move. That meant I only had one option, or else this would all be for nothing: the neighbors next door.

The first step was to figure out exactly how far I could venture away from the house without triggering the tracking chip. I knew there must be some kind of device in the house which prevented it from going off, and there would basically be a circle around it in which I could travel freely. The question was, how big was this circle, and how far did it extend? Obviously, I could have just gone out the front door and started walking until I set it off, but I was sure this would set off an alarm of some sort. I was positive that Robby or whatever Genetech employees were responsible for monitoring me would know if that happened. That would beg the question, what was I up to? And it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out, or at least to suspect I was up to something. I had to do it in such a way as to have an excuse for it - an innocent reason ready at my disposal.

So, I started to take an interest in gardening. I talked about it incessantly; I asked Robby to have books about it delivered to the house; I purchased supplies and equipment at the store. Then one day, while Robby was at work, I began working in the flower beds in the backyard, concentrating mainly on pulling weeds as if to prepare them for planting. There were some along the back of the house near the pool, and I started here, but there were more on the opposite end of the backyard - it looked like it had at one time been a little garden - which extended quite a ways from the back door. It was these that I was interested in. I never had any reason to go back there, after all, and it was farther from the house than I had ever been without Robby or the driver with me. And so, as soon as I was done with the closer flower beds, I picked up my tools and began walking - past the pool, past the fire pit, past the shed, past the willow tree, all the way to the farthest reaches of the backyard. I was relieved to find that I was able to make it all the way to the back fence with no problem.

I proudly showed Robby what I had accomplished after he had come home from work, and he seemed genuinely pleased with my efforts. He never put very much effort into the flower beds and never bothered hiring a gardener, so there had been considerable room for improvement, and my work made them appear not quite as neglected as they had been. Robby also seemed happy that I had taken up a new hobby that seemed to bring me so much joy and eagerly listened as I went on and on about what I had planned.

Two days later - it had rained hard the previous day, so I had to postpone it - I shifted my attention to the flower beds in front of the house. The front yard wasn't surrounded by a fence, though it had fairly tall hedges dividing our property from the neighbor's, and I would have to go all the way to the sidewalk to get around them in order to access the yard next door. As I worked in the flower beds along the front of our house, I made the occasional subtle glance in that direction, trying to gauge the distance. I was pretty sure I wouldn't have to travel any farther from the house than I had ventured in the backyard, and so I started planning my next move.

I knew from my patient observations that the woman next door stayed home most days like I did, though I had often seen her leave the house to run errands. I knew I might only have one shot at this, so I needed to be sure she was home before venturing over there. And so, the following day, I watched out the window for her car to leave the garage. This usually didn't happen until after 10 o'clock, but I didn't want to miss it, so I started watching as soon as Robby left for work. I ended up waiting for quite a while. It wasn't until 11:30 that I observed her leave at last, and that's when I gathered up my gardening tools, went out into the front yard, and picked up where I had left off yesterday. To any observer, I would just be innocently tending to the flower beds, which was consistent with my new hobby.

I had been working for a while - about ninety minutes or so - when I finally observed her car pulling back into the driveway. It was time. I rose to my feet, turned toward their house, wiped sweat away from my brow, and then - as if it was the most natural, normal thing in the world, without any cause for suspicion - I set down my tools and started walking.

I made my way down to the sidewalk, rounded the hedges, then entered the neighbor's yard. Immediately, I realized I almost certainly misjudged the distance. All of a sudden, their front door seemed much farther away than I had initially thought. But I had to keep going. Everything depended on this. Feelings of apprehension mounted with every step I took. I knew that, at any second, I could set off the tracking chip. I had only experienced this once, on the way to the penthouse, when Amberly gave me a demonstration as a warning. It was awful, like an intense, debilitating electrical zap deep within my brain. The anticipation of experiencing that again was bad enough, but even worse was the knowledge that, if that happened, it meant my plan was hopeless. I would have no choice but to return to the house empty handed, and this would all have been for nothing. It felt like the longest walk of my life - it was like I could hear the bending of every blade of grass beneath my shoes as I continued crossing their front lawn. Beads of sweat began to form on my forehead despite my efforts to appear completely natural and unnervous.

At last, after what felt like an eternity, I made it to the foot of the steps in front of their porch. But I wasn't out of the woods yet. The way their house was angled because of the curvature of the street, I would still need to make it a few more feet from our house before I was at their front door. I kept moving, however, making sure to look like it was without any hesitation. And then I began climbing the stairs, feeling more and more anxious with every step I took. One, two - the sound of my feet coming into contact with the wooden boards took on an unbelievably profound meaning - three, four. And then there I was, on their porch, underneath the overhang, so tantalizingly close to their door. Only a few more steps to go to cross that last distance - five... six... seven... One more, and I would be close enough to ring the doorbell.

That's when it happened - ZAP! It hit me like a sucker punch to the head. It was just as bad as I remembered it, maybe even worse because I had been expecting it, and it immediately made me take a step back. But I had come so far, and I was willing to experience it one more time in order to get what I needed. I took a deep breath and took one giant step forward with my arm extended, my finger ready. And then, as it hit me again - ZAP! - I pressed the button and took another giant step backwards into the clear.

I only had to wait a few seconds before the door opened, and then there she was. She was tall, thin, and athletic, dressed in a pair of tight black leggings and a pink sports bra. She was very pretty and had her long blonde hair in a ponytail. I had the distinct impression that she had just come from a yoga session. It took all the willpower I had to resist the urge to allow my gaze to venture down to her chest. I found myself wishing we could become fast friends and I could get close enough to her that she'd be comfortable changing clothes in my presence.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm sorry to bother you," I said with an awkward smile. "I just wanted to introduce myself. I live next door. My name is Erica. I'm Robby's wife."

"I didn't know Robby got married!" the woman responded brightly, and then extended her hand. "I'm Samantha. Very nice to meet you."

There was a split second in which she remained where she was in the doorway, probably expecting me to take a step forward to accept her hand, but, of course, I didn't - I couldn't - and so she closed the distance between us and shook mine.

We chatted for several minutes right there on the porch. The whole time, I half expected a black sedan to come screeching down the street and for two intimidating, goony Genetech employees to exit it and come rushing across the lawn to grab me and haul me back to the house. But fortunately, that didn't happen.

I learned a little about Samantha in those few minutes - she was recently married and fairly new to the neighborhood, too - and she asked me a few questions about me and Robby. I did my best to answer these, explaining that we had met at work (which was true, come to think of it). Apparently our husbands were on friendly terms, encountering one another fairly frequently while engaged in their manly outdoor labors, so she was surprised we hadn't crossed paths yet. She suggested we get together one of these days to "drink wine and complain about our husbands," she said good naturedly. We were getting along really well after all and seemed to enjoy each other's company.

"You want to come in?" she asked at last.

Like that was a possibility. "That's kind of you, but I have a lot of things I have to get done, so I should be heading back," I replied. "But I saw your car pull in, so I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Samantha said. "We'll see each other again soon." And at that, she turned around and was about to take a step toward her still-open front door.

"Actually..." I suddenly interjected, "there was... one other thing." I tried my best to avoid making it sound like it was the whole reason I had come over here.

Samantha turned back towards me. "Of course," she replied. "Anything."

And just like that, I had what I needed.

As expected, Robby questioned me about it as soon as he came home. He explained that he had a visit from someone at work who said my tracking chip had been triggered.

"I don't give a shit whether your tracking chip goes off," Robby said, sounding somewhat bitter, "but they ordered me to follow up. So that's what I'm doing." It almost sounded like he resented having to ask me these questions and was going through the motions because he was required to.

I was positive that Robby or whoever was responsible for monitoring me had reviewed the video recordings and knew exactly what I had done, though he seemed to be pretending that he didn't.

I was cutting up chicken at the time and kept working as I calmly told him what happened. I was tending to the flower beds in the front yard, I explained. Then I saw the neighbor's car pull in and I simply wanted to introduce myself, since I thought it would be nice if she could come over the house once in a while during the day. I made it a point to sound like I didn't think it was a big deal and didn't understand why I was being interrogated like that. After all, the only thing I did was knock on my neighbor's door to say hello.

"They don't want you doing things like that," Robby said, regret in his voice. "I'm sorry, but they're really strict about it."

I stopped what I was doing and simply glared at him.

"Listen, if it were up to me, you could go wherever you want," he said defensively. "But it's not up to me."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. It was obvious the conversation was going exactly the way I needed it to - that I had managed to make it look like what I had done was little more than an honest mistake. "Okay, okay," I said after a few seconds, as if finally acquiescing. "I don't want to get you into any trouble." I tried to sound as understanding as possible, and I went right back to work preparing dinner. I was relieved it had been so easy to throw him off the track.

"I got an idea," Robby suddenly said brightly. "How about we get together once in a while - the four of us? You and me and Samantha and her husband?"

I didn't really care that much about it - Samantha seemed nice and all, and very pleasing on the eyes, but that wasn't what I was after - though I made it a point to look at him excitedly. "Really?" I said, as if I couldn't believe my luck.

"Sure," Robby said, sounding relieved to be able to offer me something that I appreciated. It made me feel a little guilty. "They can come over here, and we can go over there, any time we want." He paused, working out the details in his head. "Tomorrow, I'll mention it to her husband, and suggest we get together for some drinks and a little cook-out in the backyard this weekend. It'll be fun."

I put the knife down. "That would be great, Robby!" And then I threw my arms around him and hugged him appreciatively. I found myself pulling back and gazing at him lustily. I'm not sure what motivated me - whether it was to continue throwing him off the track, or out of genuine appreciation that he thought of such a thing for no other reason than to make me happy, or out of guilt for what I was up to, or whether the day's excitement had left me a little aroused. I think it was a little of all of them, but especially the last one. "You up for a quickie before dinner?" I said seductively.

He smiled amorously. Without a word, he pulled me into his arms and started kissing me frantically, gradually guiding me backwards until my butt came in contact with the kitchen table. He spun me around and grabbed me by the hips, pulling me into him, and I could clearly feel his hardened arousal pressed up against my ass as he started kissing the back of my neck. Within a matter of seconds, he had me bent over the table with my dress hiked up and my panties around my ankles and then fucked me from behind, the kitchen filled with our mounting sounds of pleasure.

We ended up getting together with Samantha and her husband, Mark, the following Saturday. Just like Robby had said he would, he invited them over the house for a little cook-out and a swim. There was no way to avoid it. I was extremely apprehensive about it, wondering if Samantha might inadvertently reveal what it was that I asked her for the other day when I came to her house, which would ruin everything, so I knew I'd need to pay very close attention and be ready to change the subject or cause a distraction at a moment's notice.

The doorbell rang at four o'clock and Robby and I both met them at the door. Samantha was even prettier than I remembered her, with a beautifully symmetrical face, soft features, and long blonde hair which she wore down this time. She was wearing a pair of tight pink shorts which left a delightful amount of her long, toned legs exposed, as well as a black tank top which revealed the straps of a powder blue swimsuit underneath. I found myself eager to discover whether it was a one-piece or two (while hoping for a two-piece, of course). As for Mark, he was wearing navy blue swim trunks and a colorful short-sleeve button-down shirt. I had only seen him a handful of times out the window and never got a very good look at him until now, and - on closer inspection - I did not find him to be particularly good looking, at least from my perspective. He was short - several inches shorter than Robby and even a hair shorter than Samantha - and a little heavyset. It didn't take me long to wonder why someone of Samantha's caliber would marry a man like him, but then I remembered how nice their house was and the fact that Samantha didn't seem to work, which indicated he had a lot of money.

Robby led the way to the kitchen to prepare drinks then we made our way into the backyard where the four of us chatted for a few minutes. Right off the bat, Samantha seemed to be extremely friendly, almost flirtatious.

"I so appreciate that you invited us, especially considering how hot it's been," Samantha was saying. She wasn't kidding - that had been one of the hottest days of the year so far. "We always planned on having a pool installed after we bought the house a year ago, but all the contractors have been booked up for months." She leaned in close to Robby and I, as if what she was about to say next was only meant for us, though she didn't lower her voice at all. "See, Mark procrastinated too long and now we're on a waiting list, so we probably won't have a pool until next summer."

"What are you grilling?" Mark suddenly asked Robby. I had a sinking suspicion that he was intentionally trying to change the subject, so I sensed that this was a sore topic between the two of them.

"Bone-in ribeyes," Robby responded, with a touch of pride. He had picked them up yesterday from the best butcher in town, and he was an expert at grilling steaks. "I normally make them medium rare, but let me know if you want yours cooked a little differently. There's a bit of an art to it...."

"Mark," Samantha immediately interjected. "Pay attention. He seems to know what he's doing. I don't want you to ruin another pair of steaks...."

My eyes immediately shifted to Mark, and - judging by his expression - he seemed to have recognized that this was the second somewhat insulting thing in a row his wife had said about him in front of other people. I almost started to feel a little sorry for him, but something was happening which captivated my full attention. Samantha was pulling her tank top off of her, revealing her powder blue bikini top (I was excited to see it was a two-piece after all). I was glad I was wearing sunglasses, so I was able to shift my eyes and appreciate the view of her beautifully shaped breasts without it being too obvious. The sports bra she was wearing the other day simply didn't do them justice. She tossed the tank top onto a chair then unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts, pushed them down her legs, then stepped out of them. She was now standing there mere feet away from me in nothing but a bikini, with so much of her beautifully toned, trim body exposed. My eyes quickly scanned the entire length of her, from her long, beautifully shaped legs and thighs to her subtly curved waist and flat midriff, then up to her bulging breasts, where I could just make out the barely perceptible indent of her nipples.

"So who's swimming?" Samantha asked.

Robby's eyes instantly shifted to mine. He was going to be engaged nonstop in the work of cooking dinner, so it was obvious what he needed me to do. It would have been rude, after all, for us to invite them over to swim and for neither of us to join them in the pool.

"I'm up for a swim," I said. I already had my swimsuit on, so I only needed to shed the white cover-up I had on over it. Underneath that, I was wearing a modest pink one-piece. (I would have worn a two-piece, but I knew I'd be in the presence of a man I never met before, so I felt more comfortable with more of me covered.)

Samantha and I made our way to the pool. On the way, I couldn't help but stare longingly at the back side of her body. She had a handful of delightfully cute freckles scattered about her skin, and - as my eyes found their way to her swimsuit bottom which was clinging to her perfectly toned butt - I couldn't help but wonder what other, more secret freckles were hidden underneath her bikini. I didn't get to linger for too long, though, since Samantha instantly dove in from the side of the pool without checking to see how cold the water was like I might have done. As for me, I didn't dive like she did; I just walked in by way of the stairs and stayed by the side of the pool where I set my drink aside at the edge as she began swimming laps.

I watched Samantha swim from one side of the pool to the other for a couple of minutes, above the water and under it, then she ended up resurfacing right next to me.

"I love your house," she said. I found myself hoping the sunglasses I had picked out were preventing her from seeing that my gaze was so often wandering to her breasts. They were unusually big considering how lean and athletic her body was, which made them stand out even more. Although Samantha would certainly have been able to afford breast implants, I was pretty sure they were natural, which made them even more intriguing.

"Thanks," I said.

"When we were house hunting, I didn't even want to consider the house we ended up buying, because it didn't have a pool," Samantha said. "But Mark promised we'd get one installed. I thought he'd have it taken care of, but I ended up having to remind him, and by then, it was too late to get onto the calendar before summer started."

"You're welcome here any time," I said, hoping she would take me up on the offer. She could come over as often as she wanted for all I cared, everyday even, as long as I got to watch her swim.

Samantha smiled warmly. "Thanks, Erica!" she said gratefully. "If it stays this hot, I might just take you up on that offer....

"Hey, Mark!" she suddenly shouted. "Could you bring me my drink?"

I looked and saw Mark immediately, without any hesitation, rushing to grab the glass Samantha left behind and trot it over to her.

We stood there chatting for a while in the water, though Samantha would occasionally set down her drink and take off swimming under the surface for a minute or two, as I would admire her long, slender body moving gracefully through the water. She would always end up resurfacing next to me and we'd pick up where we left off. At one point, she accidentally resurfaced too close and brushed up against me. The feeling of her skin against mine was electrifying, and I couldn't help but wonder if it had been intentional.

Samantha was dominating the conversation, but I didn't care. I could watch her pretty face for hours, though I couldn't stop my eyes from drifting down to her breasts. Eventually, she decided to climb out using the stairs and give the diving board a try. I followed, and the whole way, my eyes were glued to the wonderful curves of her backside, relishing the way her wet swimsuit bottom clung to her butt. I was envisioning myself running my lips and tongue up and down the entire length of that pretty body. I remembered how she seemed a little flirtatious earlier. That prompted a pleasant daydream in which Samantha and I become the best of friends, and she visits me during the day, and we get closer and closer over time, and she struggles to contain this confusing long-hidden desire she had always secretly harbored - a desire to be with another woman - until the pressure becomes too much to bare. Then the day would come when there was no holding it back anymore, and it would happen suddenly, and we would kiss, and kiss and kiss and kiss, and then do so much more than kissing....

Samantha ended up using the diving board for quite a while, again and again and again, and I followed and did the same, only so I could stare at her butt some more. I was having a great time. All the while, I could see Robby preparing the steaks on the grill with Mark right there next to him. They seemed to be engaged in a very lively conversation, and I could hear their mutual laughter almost continuously, and I could see Robby frequently slapping Mark good naturedly on the back. They seemed to be getting along extremely well. In fact, at one point, Robby had his arm around Mark as he whispered something to him, before they both burst into laughter.

Eventually, Samantha seemed to have her fill of swimming, and she exited the pool and retrieved one of the towels Robby and I had positioned nearby, and by then, the food was done. Samantha and I dried ourselves off, and I thought she was going to wrap the towel around her and cover herself with it, but I was glad to see she didn't.

Robby was serving the steaks on plates with a little bit of asparagus I had prepared and we all sat around the table to eat. We hadn't planned out the seating arrangements - they just happened on their own - but I ended up very close to Mark while Samantha ended up very close to Robby. We were separated enough that it was natural for me to talk mostly with Mark, and I did the best I could, wanting to appear friendly and to make sure he was having a good time. As for Robby, he seemed to be doing the same for Samantha.

"Oh, Robby," I heard her say as she chewed her first bite of ribeye. "This is fantastic."

"Thanks," Robby responded.

Meanwhile, Mark was making small talk with me.

"So where'd you and Robby meet?" he asked.

I didn't answer at first, finding myself a bit distracted by Samantha's conversation with Robby.

"No, really," Samantha continued with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, as she cut another piece of her steak. "You are a magician. This is the best thing I've ever tasted in my life."

I don't know if it was my imagination or not, but it seemed like Robby was unusually pleased with this compliment.

"It's all in the timing," he said proudly.

"We met at work," I finally answered Mark. "I was... a client. Where'd you and Samantha meet?"

The conversation continued this way throughout the meal - Robby talking mostly with Samantha; me talking mostly with Mark - but I often found myself listening in on what the other two were saying.

"Do you work out?" she was asking at one point.

"Free weights," Robby responded. "And boxing. I have a whole set-up in the basement."

"It shows." Samantha paused as she took a sip of her drink. "You must be so... hot... after standing by that grill for so long," she added. "You should go for a swim after dinner."

"Maybe I will," Robby answered.

Meanwhile, I was all too aware of how much of Samantha's body was revealed to Robby as she sat kitty-corner to him. And that's when I realized that Samantha had been flirting earlier. And she definitely wasn't flirting with me, like I had wistfully imagined - she was flirting with Robby. And she was still flirting with Robby. She was flirting with him relentlessly, right in front of her husband, right in front of me. I didn't know if Mark was bothered by it or whether he even noticed it - maybe he was so used to this kind of thing that it didn't phase him anymore - but I noticed it. And the way Robby was responding, he didn't seem to mind it very much. At all.

It hit me unbelievably suddenly, a foreign feeling I had never before experienced - I felt threatened by Samantha, and jealous of the attention she was getting from Robby. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and I was entirely unprepared for it. I didn't even know I was capable of it.

Unfortunately for me, things only got worse from there. They continued talking even after we had all finished our meal, and Robby had Samantha giggling almost constantly. And this whole time, I was stuck with Mark, who talked almost incessantly, making it impossible to politely extricate myself from the conversation and move closer to Robby like I wanted to, as if to remind the two of them of who he's married to. And then I heard Samantha once again ask if he wanted to swim, and he finally acquiesced, and the two of them left the table without saying anything to us. I watched as Robby peeled off his shirt and tossed it on a waiting chair, and I could clearly see Samantha's eyes crawling up and down his big, bare, muscular torso. They both jumped into the water at the same time then stayed by the edge of the pool where they continued talking.

I desperately wanted to follow them into the water, but I was still stuck with Mark. Robby and I had entertained enough guests - almost always, they were business associates of Robby's, either from Genetech or from other companies and firms he invested in or had become involved with - that I knew my place. The first few times, Robby had asked me to keep an eye out in case anyone seemed to feel left out or might not be having a good time, and then to try to engage them as best I can. That's what he always did, after all. So I didn't want to be rude to Mark, but my desperation to come between Robby and Samantha was gradually winning out.

"You want to go for a swim?" I finally asked him.

Mark turned his head in the direction of the pool, where Robby and Samantha were playfully splashing each other momentarily - who had started it was unknown to me - and shook his head.

"Nah," he answered. "I'm not really much of a swimmer."

I couldn't believe this man was allowing his wife to engage another man in such a way right in front of him. It was so painfully obvious what she was doing. How could he be okay with it? I wondered. But then I realized - he's probably not okay with it, but judging by the kind of woman Samantha was, he knows there's nothing he can do about it. Or maybe it's happened so many times before and he had tried to address it without success that he learned not to bother trying. It was clear who wore the pants in their relationship, after all. Maybe Mark knew Samantha was a bit out of his league, and to be married to her meant allowing certain... indiscretions.

But here's the thing - it wasn't just Samantha being overly friendly with Robby, it was also Robby being overly friendly with Samantha. I had never seen Robby act like this. The only times I had observed him interacting with other people was when we'd be entertaining a larger group, and Robby would never spend too much time on any individual person to make sure everyone was enjoying themselves, which was the only thing he cared about. This was the first time we had another couple over like this in such an informal, casual setting. I had never seen this side of him before - at least, not with anyone else. He was like this all the time with me, but now he was being like that... with another woman.

The splashing was what finally did it. Jealousy and bitterness flared through me like a match put to gasoline. I wanted it to stop. I wanted it to stop bad. And I knew at any point I could simply get up and interject myself into their conversation or even pull Robby aside and tell him to cut it out, but I didn't. I wanted him to stop it, but I wanted him to stop it on his own. And I also didn't want to cause a scene. So I just continued watching while Mark engaged me in conversation, though most of the time, I was barely aware of a word he was saying. And all the while, I was feeling increasingly bitter. Eventually, I was positively seething. It was like every friendly interaction between the two of them was throwing more fuel on the fire until it was getting out of control.

It ended up going on for quite some time before Mark finally, at long last, got to his feet and called out to Samantha, who was still in the pool with Robby.

"We should start thinking about going," he announced. It was getting dark after all.

"Aww," Samantha said, playfully pouting. "But we're having such a good time."

"Don't forget, we have to get up early tomorrow," Mark added.

Samantha turned back toward Robby, and I could see her flash him a wide smile. "We should do this again sometime," she said, and then she made her way to the ladder and began climbing out of the water. Robby was following her, and there were several seconds in which her butt - barely concealed by her wet swimsuit bottom which was clinging to every curve - was barely two feet from Robby's face. I watched his eyes intently, trying to get a sense for what direction they were gazing in. Could he be staring at her ass? I wondered. I couldn't be sure. But you know what? He must be, I decided. I would have been. Another wave of bitter jealousy swept through me like a tidal wave.

A few minutes later, Mark and Samantha were finally gone, having let themselves out and returned to their house next door, and Robby and I had begun the process of cleaning up. The whole time, I didn't say anything to Robby, not one word. I felt myself getting more and more angry with him with every passing second - angry that he had paid so much attention to Samantha and went along with her flirting right in front of me. And I also felt compelled to say nothing about it - nothing whatsoever.

At first, he didn't seem to notice.

"That was fun," Robby was saying. "Samantha seems nice."

Of course you think so, I thought resentfully to myself.

"I don't think she treats Mark very well, though," he added as we were gathering plates, napkins, and empty glasses to bring them back inside. "I kind of feel a bit sorry for him. What'd you think?"

I was so angry with him that I didn't want to answer him at first. I had never been so angry with him. I couldn't believe how angry I was. But the last thing in the world that I wanted at that moment, for whatever reason, was to tell him I was angry, or to make it too obvious. I felt myself wanting him to figure that out on his own - and I wanted him to have to work for it.

"Not sure," I said, in such a way as to mask my true feelings - but not to mask them too much.

But Robby seemed unaware that anything was amiss. He continued droning on about the two of them and what they had talked about and his impression of them as we went back and forth into the kitchen and filled the dishwasher, and the whole time, I didn't contribute a single word to the conversation.

"Did Mark tell you about the vacation they're planning?" he asked at one point.

I shook my head.

"They're spending two weeks in Italy," Robby said with obvious envy. "We should think about taking a trip like that."

I could feel his eyes on me, waiting to see how I would react, as I organized glasses on the top shelf of the dishwasher. It was obvious that I would need to respond - to refuse to respond would be too overt, though I still wanted him to know I was mad at him. I also felt a compelling need to punish him through my lack of pleasantness or outright passive aggressiveness. And so I just shrugged my shoulders indifferently.

There was a brief pause, which seemed to indicate that Robby had finally picked up on it.

"Are you okay?" he asked me.

"Fine," I said, and immediately headed outside to retrieve the last of the dishes.

"Sweetheart?" he said, following. "Are you... upset about something?"

I waited a few seconds to respond.

"No," I said curtly. Despite the fact that I was more upset than I had been in the longest time, and despite how obvious it was at this point, I still felt the undeniable need to deny it, but to do so unconvincingly. I had never felt this way before. The entire time Robby and I had been together, I never had any reason to be mad at him or to resent him, and so what I was feeling was entirely alien to me. And this was definitely not the way I would have processed emotions like this or approached the situation if I had still been a man. It was... different. It's hard to explain, but it was like my subconscious feminine mind was guiding my responses in exactly the way it wanted me to, and I was choosing to trust my instincts at the moment.

"It kind of feels like you're upset about something," Robby said as he joined me in picking up the last of the dishes.

I shook my head. "I'm not upset," I said, without any conviction whatsoever, as Robby followed me back into the house.

"You're clearly upset about something," he was saying calmly. "Was it something I said?"

I decided not to dignify that with a response. How could he not know? He spent practically the whole evening with Samantha, the better part of two hours, as she giggled and flirted. He even splashed her. And not once did he pay any attention to me, because he was having such a good time with her. And now he's going to act like he doesn't know why I'm upset?

"Erica, talk to me," Robby said as I put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. Then, with a little more force than was necessary, I pushed the shelf in and closed the door.

"There's nothing to talk about," I lied.

I then turned away from Robby, intending to put some distance between the two of us, as if I didn't want to be in his presence, while secretly hoping he would follow.

He did. I made my way to the stairs and started climbing them, obviously heading to bed.

"Is this about Samantha?" Robby finally asked.

Now he gets it, I thought. Though once again, I didn't respond. I felt like my silence was confirmation enough.

"Did I say something to her that upset you?" he asked as he followed me into our bedroom. I got the sense that he seemed genuinely concerned and eager to know what I was mad about so he could make amends, though I also got the sense that he wasn't ready to acquiesce unless he believed he truly did something wrong.

As for me, I didn't want to make it easy for him, so I still didn't answer him.

"Tell me," Robby was saying. "I can't do anything about it if I don't know what it is."

By now, I was in our bathroom in front of the sink. I intended to begin my nightly skincare routine, which I had done ever since Laura introduced it to me back at the penthouse. I got so used to it that it felt weird going to sleep without doing it, and I knew it was good for my skin, so I did it every night before bed.

Robby was just outside the doorway. I started to close the door in front of him, but Robby suddenly stopped the door at the last second with surprising force. It actually startled me.

"Erica," was all he said, and he said it commandingly, looking down at me almost the way an adult would look down upon an unruly child.

I felt like there was no escaping it now. I had to say something.

"You two seemed to get along great," I said as I started rubbing off my make-up.

"Is that what this is about?" he asked, his lips curling into a half-smile.

I didn't dignify that with a response.

"I was just being friendly," Robby said defensively.

"You were being really friendly," I shot back.

"What do you mean?" he asked incredulously.

"She was obviously flirting with you, and you didn't seem to mind at all."

"She wasn't flirting with me!"

I shot him a cold glance. I couldn't believe he was denying it.

"You really think she was flirting with me?" he asked, as if he had been oblivious to it.

I answered him only with silence.

"If that's the case, I'm sorry," he said with sincerity in his voice. "I was just trying to be friendly. You know I like to make sure people have a good time when they come over the house."

By now, I had finished removing my make-up and retrieved a bottle of exfoliator from underneath the sink. I decided to vent my anger by ignoring him.

"Did you not notice me being even friendlier with Mark while you two were in the pool?" he added.

I leaned in close to the mirror as I began applying the exfoliator. He was clearly giving me time to respond, and I have to admit I realized he wasn't wrong. I remembered seeing him laughing with Mark and slapping him on the back and even putting his arm around him while he grilled the steaks. Meanwhile, he wasn't in any way physical with Samantha. But despite that realization, I still didn't respond.

Robby sighed.

"I'll say it again - I'm sorry," he said gently. "If I had any idea you felt this way, I would have been more mindful of how I was acting around her."

I continued to massage the exfoliator into my skin without saying a word.

"Like I said, I was just trying to be friendly, and to be a good host. Honestly, I didn't think anything of it."

He paused for a few seconds, giving me another chance to respond, but he was disappointed. On some level, a part of me recognized that what he was saying made sense and that he really hadn't done anything wrong - but it was like I didn't care about that. It was like I wanted to stay mad at him on principle, like I was mad at him for making me mad, even if he didn't really do anything to deserve it.

"I thought you knew I would never look at another woman that way. I thought I had made that pretty obvious."

I just continued to work the exfoliator into my skin, going to great lengths to drag it out as long as possible.

"I should have been more cognizant of how you might feel. I'll be more careful next time. I promise," Robby concluded, turning away. But all of a sudden, something seemed to stop him. There was obviously one final thought he had, one final thing he felt the need to say. He turned back toward me.

"You're everything to me, Erica," he said. "You're the prettiest woman walking the face of the planet and I'm madly in love with you. Why would I ever want to flirt with another woman? The only woman I ever want to flirt with is you."

And with that, Robby turned and left.

I spent a while in the bathroom, thinking things through as I finished with the exfoliator and started applying moisturizer to my skin. I was still seething at first. I just couldn't help it. But gradually, bit by bit, that was fading. What Robby said was starting to sink in.

I started to reflect on what I had been feeling. Seeing Samantha flirt with Robby, seeing Robby treat her in such a friendly way, obviously had a profound effect on me. I had never seen Robby interacting like that with another woman, and it clearly made me incredibly jealous. But why was I so jealous? It's not like I actually thought something was going to happen between the two of them. Knowing Robby, he was the last person in the world who would cheat or have an affair, judging by how strongly he felt for me. So what made me so jealous? Of course, the answer was obvious - it was because deep down inside, I didn't want any other woman in the world to be the subject of his attention. I wanted his attention all to myself. I didn't realize it until now, but I was incredibly possessive of it.

I suddenly remembered the way I had been toward Samantha - the way I was checking her out every chance I got, my eyes glued to her butt and breasts. I even went so far as to daydream about hooking up with her. Robby didn't know that, of course. He probably never would have suspected it in a million years, since I never gave him any reason to believe I was attracted to women. If he had known what I was doing, I was willing to bet he might have been devastated. And I wasn't just being friendly with Samantha, like he had been - I was sexualizing her, I was fantasizing about her. And somehow, it was me who got jealous - it was me who was mad at him. It should have been the other way around - it should have been him mad at me.

I also remembered what it was that I was planning to do - what brought me to Samantha's house to begin with. It suddenly seemed ridiculous that I had gotten so jealous of Samantha and so bitter toward Robby considering what my long-term intentions were, how I was planning - plotting - to escape Genetech's control and force them to change me back, which would inevitably mean leaving Robby. But then again, it's not like I could help the way I felt. There was no escaping my emotions. I had no control over them. But there was one thing I could control, and that's what I did now. I felt bad for putting Robby through all that, and I felt a little embarrassed, though I knew I couldn't just go to him and apologize, or tell him I'm over it. Somehow, I just couldn't do that - it was like my subconscious feminine mind couldn't allow me to admit I was wrong. So I decided on another tactic, and I knew exactly what I needed - what I wanted - to do.

I finished my skincare routine then opened the door and crossed the little hallway which separated the bathroom from our expansive walk-in closet which was dominated by my clothes. I started rifling through the dozens upon dozens of various outfits that were hung or dangling from coathangers until I found just the right one - a flowing pink babydoll with silky, slightly translucent material and lacy cups which would barely cover my breasts. It was the kind of thing that didn't necessarily mean I had any intentions - something I could conceivably wear to bed innocently just because it was comfortable - though I also knew Robby would be positively drooling over the way I looked in it. Hanging alongside it was the matching thong that went along with it, so I retrieved that too. There was plenty of room for me to change in there, so I stripped off the cover-up and swimsuit I was still wearing and put on the lingerie I had selected. Then I exited the closet, depositing my swimsuit and cover-up into the hamper, and joined Robby in the bedroom. He was already in bed, having changed out of his damp swim trunks into a fresh pair of briefs, and he was laying on his back reading.

Robby turned his head toward me as I was crossing the bedroom, and I could see his face brighten as his eyes crawled up and down my body the second I came into view. Without a word, I lay down above the blankets just like Robby was and grabbed a book that was left on my nightstand and opened it, pretending to read. This whole time, I maintained an expression and acted in a manner that indicated I was still angry over some injustice that had been committed against me. In my peripheral vision, I could see Robby shift his attention back to his own book as I lay down. I had a feeling he was waiting for me to do or say something - after all, it was me who was mad at him.

After a few seconds, I turned my head toward him.

"Well?" I said.

Robby turned his head and met my gaze. "'Well' what?" he asked.

"Are you going to make it up to me, or what?"

Robby grinned. He moved in close and grabbed the book I was reading, and he didn't just toss it - he hurled it - and then he climbed on top of me in an instant and began making out with me passionately. In that moment, it was like all the unpleasantness and conflict instantly melted away. I couldn't help but giggle at his unrestrained enthusiasm for me, and I immediately wrapped my arms around him and began running my hands up and down the familiar hills and valleys of his muscular arms and torso. Within seconds, he had pulled me onto my side, so that much more of my body would be available for him to grab and squeeze. That's exactly what he did, running his hands underneath the babydoll so he could manhandle my thighs and waist and butt. My own hands made their way down his back until I found his butt as well, and I slipped one of them under the waistband into his briefs so I could dig my fingers into the smooth meaty firmness of his ass. He was kissing my neck now, and I couldn't help but relish the explosions of tingles he was setting off with his tongue and lips, and I found myself giggling again.

We lay like that kissing frantically for a minute, then I was on my back again, and Robby lips were drifting down my neck to my chest. I'm sure they would have ended at my nipples had they not been snuggly contained within the cups of the lingerie I was wearing. Instead, they kept going, kissing the satiny material of the babydoll above the softness of my body. He then pushed it up to expose my belly, then he was kissing that, too, sometimes straying to one side or the other, but always eventually making his way further and further down until he arrived at the hem of my thong. He grabbed hold of it and then started to kiss his way down my legs, all the while pulling it down until it finally passed my feet. These he started to kiss, too - there seemed to be no part of me that he didn't want to kiss - and then, completely unexpectedly, he seemed to have become so insatiable for me that he started to suck on my toes. It was something I had never had done to me before, and I'm not going to lie - it felt really nice. He was practically feasting on them, and I was feeling the same warm, pleasant tingles I always got when he kisses me in certain other spots, but it was a new sensation since I was feeling it in a place and a way I had never experienced before. I couldn't help but giggle again from his ravenous hunger for my body.

Finally, after feasting on my toes and feet for a couple of very enjoyable minutes, Robby's mouth began traveling back the way it came - up the gentle curve of my slender, hairless calves and then the soft, increasing thickness of my thighs. He slowed down as he went along, the anticipation building and building with every inch he traveled. His final destination was evident, and I absolutely welcomed it. Then he placed his hands underneath my knees and pushed them forward, repositioning my body to expose so much more of my most private area to the ravenousness of his mouth. And then his lips were circling around it, drawing ever closer and closer, and I was breathing heavier and heavier, and the anticipation was almost excruciating. I found myself positively desperate for him to get there. And then, at last, he was there, and he began working my womanhood with his lips and tongue and mouth with the expertise of a maestro, and I could do nothing but moan and writhe and bury my hands in his hair.

Robby was good at this - so very, very good. Early on in our relationship, he had very quickly learned exactly what it was that I responded to the most, like he had been paying very close attention to the way I moaned and the way I squirmed to know how each and every millimeter liked to be stimulated. Somehow, he had the ability to get me off with his mouth alone, which was a treat he sometimes provided for me - it was not necessarily better than getting me off by fucking me, but it was something different, something new. Sometimes, though, he would change it up and employ different techniques which managed to prolong it. And he was doing that now, and I was just laying there, running my hands through his hair and along his neck and shoulders, which seemed to enhance the experience. I was lost in the gentle magic he unleashed as his mouth tended to my most private, sensitive area. It was like waves of pleasure flowing over me, again and again and again, and the waves were becoming so high that they were hopelessly consuming me, and I was drowning in them.

He ended up doing this for quite a while that night - it's hard to get a sense for the passage of time in a situation like that, but it had to have been at least twenty or thirty minutes. At times, I couldn't believe he was still doing it, and I couldn't help but wonder when he was going to tire out, like when he was giving me a particularly good massage and I knew it had to end eventually but didn't want it to. After all, I had never gone down on him for this long - the longest was probably ten or fifteen minutes, max. Yet he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, like this was something he wanted to do for quite some time, and he was using the circumstances of the evening as an excuse.

The whole time, again and again, he was bringing me right up to the edge of my orgasm - there was no way he couldn't have known it from the emphatic force of my moaning - but that's when he would take a break for a few seconds, and his lips and tongue would venture in other directions, up to my belly button or across or down my inner thighs, which he would gently bite. And he would wait until my moaning and groaning had settled down a bit, then he would go back to work, all just to bring me to the brink again.

He didn't speak at all the entire time until the very end. It must have been the fourth or fifth (or maybe even sixth) time I had obviously been right at the edge of cumming.

"You like that, baby?" I suddenly heard Robby say.

A breathless "uh huh" was all I was able to utter in response, lost as I was.

"You want me to let you cum, don't you?"

Another breathless "uh huh" was all I could manage. As much as I was enjoying this, I was so tantalizingly close to my orgasm that I was positively desperate for it.

And that's when he stopped, and I barely managed to lift my head to see what he was going to do next, and Robby was rising onto his knees, and his dick was hard and ready. Then he was lifting my legs into the air and pushing them forward until they were almost at a forty-five-degree angle from my torso, exposing so much more of my body to him, and he slid his cock into the warm, wide-open wetness of my body. He began thrusting into me slowly, ever so slowly, but so deep that his pelvis was coming into contact with my own. The pleasure was extreme, reaching a level that was almost beyond comprehension. He was sliding into me steadily but allowing at least a couple seconds to pass in between each exquisite movement of his hips. I found myself shrieking intensely with every drive of his hips - I still found myself at the very edge of my orgasm - but the manner in which Robby was fucking me, so exquisitely slowly, was prolonging it to an unbelievable extent. It was something brand new that he had never done before - at least, not this way. I remember having the distinct impression that he had been capable of this all along but that he had intentionally held it back, waiting for the right time to employ this wondrous new strategy at pleasuring and delighting me.

It was during this that I suddenly felt Robby's thumb gently caressing my lips as he plunged into me, and nothing could have stopped me - I opened my lips and eagerly welcomed it into my mouth and began sucking on it. I wasn't just doing it enthusiastically; I was doing it hungrily. It was hitting the spot in a way I couldn't believe. Then at some point it wasn't Robby's thumb in my mouth anymore, it was his tongue, and I found myself wrestling it with my own like my life depended on it. And that's the moment he sped up with his thrusting, and Robby allowed it to happen, and my orgasm found me at long last. It's always hard to judge these things, but if that wasn't the most powerful orgasm I had ever experienced, it had to have been in the top five.

Robby was up against his own orgasm right after that. That's how it often was - the sight and sounds of my own pleasure usually turned him on too much, and at that point, there would be no holding it back. His own moaning was finally outdoing mine, and then he abruptly stopped while inside of me, and - with the slightest movement of his hips - I felt his cock explode deep within my body. Again and again, he thrust ever so gradually with his hips, and again and again, I felt the contractions that were generating his ultimate pleasure while spreading his seed inside of me, the clearest possible evidence of his love and adoration of me. I never felt more fulfilled than at that very moment.

But almost immediately, I felt the familiar longing to have been born a woman, to be a real woman, only so I could get pregnant, because that would of course mean that Robby might have just made a baby inside of me. But then, like always, I remembered that it just couldn't happen, and it was pointless to wish and hope and dwell on it, so I pushed this thought away like I always did, like I had trained myself to do. And then I just savored the wonderful feeling of heavenly contentment with Robby laying on top of me, as we both experienced the lingering pleasure and intimacy of our lovemaking.

"I'm really sorry," I heard myself breathlessly saying while feeling the final remaining contractions that were releasing the last of his seed inside of me.

Robby, without missing a beat, as if he knew it was some stupid, irrational thing that I would eventually get passed, said, "You don't have to be sorry." All the while, he was holding me so incredibly tight, and then I could feel his cock finally begin to relax inside of me.

Later on, after I had gone to the bathroom, after we had brushed our teeth, I found myself falling comfortably asleep in Robby's arms, using his firm, hairy chest as a pillow. At that moment, I couldn't help but wonder how I could be planning such a thing as I was, which had brought me to Samantha's house in the first place. I couldn't help but wonder how I could be planning to leave this man who was capable of making me feel such pleasure, such unbridled contentment. At that moment, it was positively unthinkable.

But a little voice inside my head reminded me that I had to escape - I simply had to, no matter what. Then came the usual refrains: Genetech did this to me against my will; they tracked and monitored my every move; they wouldn't even let me have a gaming console. And I wanted to fuck women, after all - I wanted to fuck women like Samantha.

But then again, I also wanted to be fucked - by Robby.

It was so very, very confusing.

In the end, I knew I needed to push these thoughts away. To dwell on them would drive me mad. And I supposed that now wasn't the time to think about it, as I lay there in Robby's arms. I wasn't thinking clearly right now, I decided. I needed to trust my earlier instincts. I had made my decision - I made that decision the moment I ventured over to Samantha's house - and I needed to stick with the plan, no matter what, whether I wanted to or not.

It was the following week that I took the next step. I had been preparing for it for days. I purchased a couple adult coloring books at the store along with a nice set of high-quality colored pencils. I started coloring throughout the day, making sure Robby would see me doing it. He teased me good-naturedly about my newfound hobby, and I have to admit it's something I never would have done on my own, but I actually found it somewhat enjoyable and started getting pretty good at it, especially shading, which was the true challenge. I started doing it in bed, too, telling Robby it relaxed me. That night, I kept it up long after I knew he had drifted off. After a while, I shut off the light as if I was drifting off, too. And then I just lay there, biding my time until I was sure he was in a deep sleep. It was hard not to fall asleep myself, but I was determined.

At last, I judged that the time was right, and I snuck out of bed as quietly as I could, coloring book in hand. I made my way down to the first floor, worrying over every last creak of the stairs, and went into Robby's home office. It was a room I was never in unless I was cleaning it, since there was no reason for me to be there (I obviously wasn't allowed to know the password to his computer). I kept the light off, and it was difficult finding my way with nothing but the starlight shining through the window, but I found myself right in front of his boxy printer/copier which was set up on a short stack of filing cabinets next to his desk.

I had never seen Robby use it, and I had no idea how loud it was going to be, but I had to find out. I had to know how risky it would be to use it at night - what chance there would be that it would wake Robby up. And the only way to do that was to run it. I could have done this during the day, but I was terrified to use it unless it was absolutely necessary, in case he might somehow find out. And it didn't matter, after all, how loud it was during the daytime. It would be at night that I would have to use it, and sound carries differently than it does during the daytime hours in an empty house than in the dead of night while people are asleep. It would have been risky in the extreme to test it out with documents from Robby's briefcase, of course, so that's what the coloring book was for. I needed to have an excuse if Robby heard it and came downstairs, finding me there. It was a bit lame and thin, but the only thing I could think of was to explain that I wanted to duplicate a page in the coloring book that I was particularly excited to try but worried I would mess up. And I had a feeling that would have been enough for Robby.

By now, my eyes had somewhat adjusted, and I could see a little clearer. I opened the top of the copier, pressed the booklet down upon the glass, and closed it. I then pressed the big round power button, and waited a few seconds as it got up and running. It only made a little bit of mechanical clicks and whirring-like noises as the various components were brought into alignment. I waited a few seconds, listening to make sure I wasn't hearing anything from upstairs, then pressed the button marked "COPY."

Initially, there was a barely audible humming noise as the paper was scanned. Then, the machine fully fired up, pulling in a piece of paper that was stacked at the back. I found this to be the loudest part - frightfully loud. Why does it have to be so loud? I wondered. But it only lasted a second, and the printing process itself wasn't nearly so loud as the device gradually moved the paper through itself and applied the ink. But then came the end as it took the finished sheet and deposited it onto the tray at the bottom, and this was almost as loud as it had been at the beginning. It also wasn't nearly as fast as I thought it would be - all told, it probably took a good fifteen or twenty seconds from beginning to end.

I waited silently for a solid minute, listening for the slightest hint that the noise of the copier had disturbed Robby, but it didn't. My plan had been to go back to bed after testing this out, but I decided not to waste the opportunity. I found a good place to hide the copies - beneath a bookcase against the opposite wall - and then, ever so quietly, I made my way to Robby's briefcase, taking care to remember exactly what digits were initially displayed before I aligned the numbers of the combination so I could set it back when I was done. I opened the briefcase, finding a stack of folders inside. I removed one and pulled out several pages that - although I could barely make them out in the darkness - looked to be pretty significant. I set them aside, put the folder back, closed the briefcase, and returned to the copier. Every time I made the slightest sound, I waited for several seconds, listening for any noises coming from upstairs, but there was only my nervous breathing.

And then, with bated breath, I removed the coloring book and the copied page, keeping them handy in case I had to brandish them as proof of what I was doing. I placed the first of the documents against the glass, closed it, and once again pressed the "COPY" button. And once again, the sound of the paper being drawn into it, not to mention the sound of the finished page being pushed into the tray, was terrifyingly loud - so loud it felt like it was echoing throughout the house. As soon as the finished copy had been deposited at the bottom, I grabbed it along with the original as well as the other documents I intended to copy and stashed them under the bookcase as a precaution. And then I once again waited a full minute to make sure there was no indication it had disturbed Robby. There wasn't a peep from upstairs, so I decided to try my luck at another page. And another. And another.

By the end of it, I had six pages copied, hidden out of sight under the bookcase. That's enough for one night, I decided, and hurriedly went back to the briefcase to return the pages to the folder. I even went so far as to memorize exactly where they had been so that they would be in the same order the next time Robby opened the folder, just in case he had the capacity to remember such a thing. I hid the copied coloring page under the bookcase as well - I knew it would be a good idea to keep from Robby the fact that I had been using his copier if I could avoid it - then, as quiet as a mouse, I returned upstairs and rejoined my husband in bed.

Robby was still sound asleep as I drew the blankets over me and got into a comfortable position. I almost couldn't believe it. It had almost been too easy. I was feeling very pleased with myself as I drifted off to sleep.

I didn't do it every night, but by the end of the week, I had copied a good thirty pages. And not once was there any indication that Robby had even stirred. I began to get overconfident and complacent, and that's how I found myself in the terrifying predicament that was to come.

It was a Wednesday night. There I was, downstairs, in a silky red chemise and matching thong. Robby had, of course, taken them off of me earlier, but I had put them back on after making love before going to bed. Over the past few months, I had come to find that I really liked wearing things like this when I slept. The silky material of the chemise just felt so good against my skin. (Sleeping naked was nice, too, but - for whatever reason - I just felt more comfortable with something on. Without it, I kind of felt immodest, and I'd much rather have something that Robby could take off of me first, since I didn't want to feel quite so easy.)

I had only just begun to copy the next batch of papers when it happened. The instant after I had pressed the "COPY" button, as the machine began scanning the page, I heard what I had been dreading this whole time - footsteps. And then a faint voice.

"Erica?"

Oh, God, I thought to myself. From the sound of it, he was calling from the open door of our bedroom. He must have woken up - whether on his own or from a noise I had made downstairs, I couldn't tell, as if it mattered - and he was wondering where I was. In an instant, I was overcome with panic. And that panic was magnified when I realized that tonight, of all nights, I neglected to bring the coloring book with me. There would be absolutely no excuse as to why I was in here, and -- after finding me -- Robby would inevitably search the room from top to bottom to see what I was up to and would find the pages hidden underneath the bookcase. He would instantly understand what I intended, and it would all be over. Best case scenario, he would take any precautions necessary to forever eliminate even the mere possibility of me escaping; worse case scenario, he would have me sent back to the penthouse. Or some place just like it.

And just then came the terrifyingly loud noise as the paper was drawn into the machine. I immediately wondered if Robby had heard it. He must have, I thought. How could he not have? How could he have missed that? But then I realized he might still be too far away, on the opposite end of the house, one floor above, or else he probably would be rushing downstairs at top speed right then and there so he could see what forbidden thing I was doing in his office.

He doesn't realize I'm in here yet, I thought to myself. But that didn't matter, because I could sense his footsteps in the upstairs hallway getting closer and closer, and I knew that, in a matter of seconds, he was going to be close enough. The printing process itself was quiet enough that he probably wasn't hearing it upstairs, but there was no way he was going to miss the hopelessly loud mechanical noises as the printer deposited the paper into the bottom tray when he was farther along the hallway. And even if he didn't hear it, I was all too aware of the terrible arithmetic - about ten more seconds for the copy to be finished, and then at least three additional seconds for me to try and hide the evidence, before I even thought of leaving. Plenty of time for him to make it to the top of the stairs in plain view of the entrance to the office at the bottom. I was trapped - hopelessly, terrifyingly trapped.

What do I do? I thought to myself. What do I do? What do I do?