Chastity Pill Ch 01

"You realize most women would just ask you to water their plants while they're gone, right?" you say, watching Veronica delicately place a piece of yellowtail sashimi between her perfect teeth.

The Nobu dining room pulses around you with the ambient wealth of Summer City's elite--the murmur of business deals closing, the gentle clink of sake cups, the occasional flash of Aphrodite's hologram on someone's handheld display showing the evening weather forecast. But right now, all you can focus on is the way your girlfriend's violet eyes narrow slightly as she chews, considering your comment.

"Most women," Veronica says after swallowing, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a black napkin, "don't have a boyfriend with your particular history."

You open your mouth to protest but she raises one perfectly manicured finger--nails painted the exact shade of the Burgundy glaze on the black cod that just arrived at your table.

"Sarah texted you good morning every day for three weeks after you were 'officially' broken up," she continues, her voice lowered but intense. "Jessica sent you nudes 'by accident' six months into your relationship with me. That barista wrote her number on your cup despite me standing right next to you."

The conclusion she's drawing is classic Veronica catastrophizing. Before you can respond, the waiter appears at her subtle hand signal--she never has to try to get service, servers just seem magnetically drawn to her.

"We'll have another round of the Toro scallop with jalapeño, the rock shrimp tempura, and--" she glances at you with a tiny curl of her lips, "--the spicy tuna on crispy rice for my boyfriend."

"And the gentleman would like...?"

Veronica smoothly intercepts: "He has a shellfish allergy--make sure that's noted--and nothing with crab. The yellowtail's been a hit." She flashes the smile that could launch ships and sink careers. "We're celebrating tonight."

The waiter nods deferentially and disappears. You've long stopped fighting this particular battle--Veronica knows the menu better than you ever will, and her selections are always impeccable.

"Celebrating what, exactly?" you ask. "The fact that you're leaving me for two weeks, or the fact that you want me to take sex-change pills while you're gone?"

Her laugh is genuine--that full-throated sound that first drew you to her across a crowded bar fourteen months ago. She leans forward, giving you a deliberate view down the neckline of her black dress. The movement catches the restaurant's subtle lighting, highlighting the curve of her tits and the delicate gold chain that disappears between them.

"I'm celebrating," she says, reaching across to touch your wrist, her thumb making small circles against your pulse point, "finding a creative solution to a problem that's been keeping me up at night."

You take a sip of your sake, savoring the premium junmai daiginjo she insisted on ordering--"Life's too short for house sake, Alex"--and try to ignore how her touch is already undermining your resistance.

"Most people would call it a trust issue, not a problem with a creative solution," you say, but there's no real edge to your voice. You've had variations of this conversation before.

Veronica's expression shifts subtly, vulnerability flickering across her features so quickly you might have missed it if you hadn't been studying her face for over a year. She withdraws her hand and sits back, suddenly intensely interested in rearranging her chopsticks.

"My father cheated on my mother with her yoga instructor," she says quietly. "Then her assistant. Then her college roommate. I was twelve when I found the texts on his phone." She looks up at you, those violet eyes slightly glossy now. "Did I ever tell you that my mother tried to kill herself after the seventeenth affair? Seventeenth, Alex."

Your chest tightens. She's mentioned her parents' troubled marriage before, but never this detail. The pain in her voice is raw and real, cutting through the ambient luxury of Nobu like a discordant note.

"Roni," you say softly, using the nickname only you're allowed to use, "I'm not your father."

"I know that," she says quickly, composure returning as the waiter sets down the rock shrimp tempura in a gleaming white bowl. She waits until he's gone before continuing. "Intellectually, I know that. But this trip is huge for me. The Matsuhisa Group contract could double Valentine Strategies' revenue. I need to be completely present, not checking my phone every five minutes wondering if you and Devon are at some bar with half-naked Twitch streamers."

You raise an eyebrow. "That's oddly specific."

"I saw his search history when he used my laptop," she says dismissively, popping a piece of tempura into her mouth. Her eyes close briefly in appreciation of the flavor. "God, that's good. Try it."

She picks up a piece with her chopsticks and holds it out to you. You lean forward to take it directly from her, a little ritual that always makes her smile. The tempura is perfect--crisp, light, with the subtle heat of the sauce cutting through the sweetness of the shrimp.

"Look," she continues, her voice softening as she sets down her chopsticks and reaches for your hand again. "I know it sounds extreme. But it's just two weeks. And the pills are perfectly safe--they're official X-Change, so there's no real danger or anything."

"You seriously want me to be a woman while you're gone," you say flatly. "Just to make sure I don't cheat on you."

"When you put it like that, it sounds crazy," she admits, then fixes you with a look that's half challenge, half seduction. "But tell me you've never been curious. Tell me you've never wondered what it feels like from the other side. Come on, it'll be fun!"

You hesitate a fraction too long, and her lips curve into that knowing smile that both infuriates and arouses you.

"That's what I thought," she says, reaching for her clutch. "Besides, I'm not asking you to walk the runway at Fashion Week. You and Devon can still have your little gaming marathon. Yes, I know about that. You'll just have... different equipment while you're shooting aliens or whatever."

She unsnaps her clutch and discreetly places four small packages on the table between your plates, each containing a pink pill with different markings.

"I got a few options, since I wasn't sure which would appeal most to your... sensibilities."

You glance around, but no one's paying attention to the tiny pharmaceutical display in front of you. Still, you lower your voice.

"You bought X-Change pills before even DISCUSSING this with me?"

"I discussed it with you last week," she counters, taking another perfect bite of yellowtail.

"You made a joke about chastity devices versus girl pills! I thought you were kidding!"

"I never kid about sexual fidelity, Alex." She gives you a look that somehow combines dead seriousness with playful challenge. "But I am giving you options."

She taps each package in turn with one perfectly manicured nail.

Veronica

"Resistance," she says, indicating the first pill. "Lasts the full two weeks I'm gone. Worst case, you have a little too much fun with yourself and it lasts a little longer--but the odds of that are super low if you just keep your hands to yourself. I kind of like that, because I'll know what you've been up to based on how many extra days you stay female."

Your face must register alarm because she quickly moves to the next package.

"Choice," she continues. "You take it now, become a woman, and I keep the reversal pill for when I get back. Zero risk of permanence, and I control when you change back." Her smile turns wicked. "I like that one too."

"I'll bet you do," you mutter, but she's already moving on.

"The next ones I got, just to give you a semblance of choice. They were on sale. Drain," she says, fingertip hovering over the third pill. "This one's fun. Two-week duration, but every time you... enjoy yourself too much... you get a little ditzy. Temporarily, of course. Could be entertaining for your gaming sessions."

"Veronica!"

"What?" she asks innocently. "Devon's seen you drunk off your ass. This can't be much different."

Before you can respond, she touches the final package. "And Synthetic Plus. This one's mostly a joke, but I included it for completeness. Turns you into a living doll, basically. Limited mobility, but enhanced sensitivity." She winks. "Save that one for when we're adventurous together sometime. But you could still game! I think."

You stare at the four pills, then back at Veronica's face. She's watching you with a combination of amusement and genuine anxiety.

"You can't seriously expect me to--"

"I expect," she interrupts, leaning forward so her breasts press against the edge of the table, her voice dropping to that husky register that never fails to short-circuit your brain, "that you'll consider doing this one small thing to help the woman you love feel secure while she's closing the biggest deal of her career."

The spicy tuna arrives, and Veronica sits back, giving the waiter her most dazzling smile. When he's gone, she picks up a piece with her chopsticks and extends it toward you.

"Besides," she says as you take the bite, the perfect combination of heat and richness exploding on your tongue, "I promise to make it worth your while tonight. One last hurrah with your current equipment before the temporary... renovation."

You swallow, watching as she deliberately licks a grain of rice from her bottom lip.

"And when I get back," she continues, voice low and promising, "I'll show you exactly what women like me do to pretty girls like you'll be."

Heat rushes through you, and you're mortified to realize it's not entirely from embarrassment. Something about the way she's looking at you--predatory, possessive, playful--is awakening curiosity you didn't know you had.

"This is insane," you manage to say.

"Hmm," she hums, taking a sip of sake while maintaining eye contact. "And yet I notice you haven't said no."

She reaches across the table again, this time trailing her fingers up your forearm in that way that always makes your skin prickle with awareness.

"It's just two weeks, baby. Two weeks where I don't have to worry, and you get a little vacation from job hunting stress. Maybe even gain some valuable UX design perspective on the female user experience."

You can't help but laugh at her attempt to frame this as professional development.

"Only you would try to convince me that taking gender-swapping pills is good for my career."

"Only I would be right about it," she counters, signaling for the check without ever taking her eyes off you. "So what's it going to be? Because if it's not one of these, we're going to have a very different conversation about metal devices and keys around my neck."

She's not serious. Probably. But as you look at the four pink pills arranged like some twisted appetizer course, you realize you're actually considering it. Two weeks of gaming, no job interviews... just in a different body. It shouldn't really matter, right?

"If--and that's a big if--I were to agree to this insanity," you say carefully, "I would get to pick which one?"

Veronica's smile blooms slow and victorious.

"Absolutely your choice," she says, gathering the pills and returning them to her clutch as the check arrives. "Though I have my preferences."

She hands her black card to the waiter without looking at the total.

"Let me guess," you say dryly. "You want me on the Choice so you control when I change back."

"Actually," she says, signature sunbeam smile shifting to something more intimate, more vulnerable, "I was thinking the Resistance. But really. Your choice."

She reaches across the table one more time, threading her fingers through yours.

"I know this is asking a lot," she says quietly. "But it would mean everything to me to be able to focus on this trip without the voices in my head. Without my mother's voice. Without the memory of finding those texts."

You look at the woman across from you--brilliant, beautiful, complicated Veronica Valentine with her armor of designer clothes and alphabetized spice rack and spreadsheets of your sexual performance--and see the genuine fear behind her controlling behavior. For the first time, you truly understand that her jealousy isn't about you at all.

"Plus," she adds, voice dropping to a whisper as she leans forward, cleavage on full display, "I've booked us the penthouse suite at The Azure for tonight. Mirrored ceiling, jacuzzi tub, room service champagne... one last night to fuck like rabbits before your... sabbatical."

She signs the check without breaking eye contact, then glances at the small pink packages in her clutch.

"So, Alex Mercer," she says, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in challenge. "Which pill will it be?"