Chastity Pill

"Choice," you say, the word escaping your lips before you can overthink it.

Veronica tilts her head, studying you.

"Choice? Really?" A slow smile spreads across her face. "Not Resistance?"

You shrug, trying to appear more casual than you feel about agreeing to temporarily surrender your manhood.

"With Resistance, I know I'd change back automatically. It's the safe option." You lean forward, taking her hand. "But with Choice, I have to trust you to give me the reversal pill when you return. And I do trust you, Roni."

Her expression softens, violet eyes warming at the strategic deployment of her nickname. You press your advantage.

"Besides, I've heard horror stories about those Resistance pills. Well, especially the older versions. One guy sneezed too hard while jilling off and ended up stuck as a woman for an extra month."

Veronica laughs, the sound drawing appreciative glances from nearby diners.

"Are you sure it's about trust?" she teases, leaning in conspiratorially. "Or do you just not want me knowing how often you cum while I'm gone? I see how it is."

Heat creeps up your neck. "That's not--"

"Relax," she says, squeezing your hand. "I'm kidding. Choice is perfect. Very romantic, actually. Literally putting your manhood in my hands."

She reaches into her clutch and pulls out a small glass vial containing another pink pill, identical to the Choice pill.

"See? Same serial number. They're a matched pair." She dangles the vial between her fingers. "This is your ticket back to masculinity."

You watch as she opens her locket--a gold heart-shaped pendant you gave her for your six-month anniversary--and carefully places the reversal pill inside, snapping it shut with a decisive click.

"There," she says, patting the locket now resting between her breasts. "Safe and sound until I return."

The waiter appears with Veronica's black card and receipt. She signs with a flourish, adding a tip that makes you wince internally.

"Let's get to the hotel," she says, sliding out of the booth with feline grace. "I've got plans for your last night as a man."

Outside Nobu, the Summer City night envelops you in humid warmth, the air thick with salt. Neon signs cast pink and blue reflections on the puddles from an earlier rain shower. Veronica raises her hand, and as if by magic, a cab materializes.

"The Azure," she instructs the driver.

As the cab pulls away from the curb, Veronica nestles against you, her hand resting possessively on your thigh.

"I got you some clothes," she says, tracing small circles with her thumb.

"You already bought clothes?" You shouldn't be surprised at this point. Veronica's planning is always three steps ahead of reality.

"Rented, actually. From Bonwit Teller. They'll be delivered while we're out." Her fingers inch higher on your thigh. "I had to know what size to get, so I specified a particular body type when ordering the pill."

Your pulse quickens. "What body type?"

Her smile turns enigmatic. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Actually, yes, I would."

"That's the fun part of X-Change pills," she explains, her voice taking on that lecturer tone she uses when sharing expertise. "If you pay extra, you can get Clone variants--predetermined forms rather than just the girl version of you. The catalog is quite extensive."

"So you picked my female form from a catalog?" You can't decide if that's disturbing or arousing.

"I wanted you to have something nice to look at," she says, her lips brushing your ear. "So you don't get tempted by other girls."

The cab turns onto Ocean Drive, and the Azure looms ahead, its neo-deco façade illuminated by strategic uplighting that makes the rose gold accents gleam against the night sky.

"I considered several options," Veronica continues as the cab slows. "A big booty Latina might be fun--you could spend hours just watching yourself walk past mirrors."

You swallow hard as the cab stops. Veronica pays the driver while you try to process the fact that you'll soon be occupying a completely different body.

The Azure's lobby is all marble and brass, with staff who seem to appear precisely when needed and vanish when not.

"Ms. Valentine, your suite is ready. Champagne has been chilled as requested."

"Perfect," she accepts the keycard.

In the elevator, Veronica presses the button for the penthouse level, then backs you against the mirrored wall.

"I also considered a pale, freckled redhead type for you," she whispers, her lips tantalizingly close to yours. "The kind that blushes everywhere when she's turned on."

The elevator ascends smoothly as her hand slides down to cup you through your pants. You're already half-hard from the surreal conversation.

"Ooh!" she says. "So is that it, then? Redhead?"

"I mean--"

The elevator dings, saving you from having to respond. Veronica leads you down a short hallway to a set of double doors, which she opens with a theatrical flourish.

The penthouse suite is a monument to 80s luxury reimagined for modern sensibilities. The central living area features a sunken conversation pit with plush white seating around a circular fire feature. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the Summer City skyline, which looks like a Hiroshi Nagai painting right now. A Knoll table holds a silver ice bucket with Veuve Clicquot and two crystal flutes.

"Maybe you'd prefer a blonde with glasses?" Veronica muses, kicking off her heels. "That whole sexy librarian vibe. Or a busty Asian babe? You did watch a lot of that on PornHub last month."

Your jaw drops. "You track my--"

"I notice things," she says with a dismissive wave. "It's what makes me good at my job."

She leads you through the suite to the bedroom, where a California king bed covered in crisp white linens sits beneath a ceiling entirely mirrored. Another set of floor-to-ceiling windows reveals a private terrace with a jacuzzi tub steaming gently against the night air.

"Get that running," Veronica instructs, nodding toward the jacuzzi. "I'll slip into something more... minimal."

She disappears into the bathroom with a wink, leaving you to figure out the jacuzzi controls. You find the panel beside the tub and press a button. Jets activate, bubbling the water invitingly. The city sprawls below, a carpet of lights stretching to the dark horizon of the ocean.

"Maybe I'll make you a black girl with a tight, toned body?" Veronica's voice calls from the bathroom. "Or an Indian babe with those gorgeous eyes? So many options."

You're about to respond when the bathroom door opens, and coherent thought abandons you entirely.

Veronica emerges in what can only technically be called a bikini--three tiny triangles of black fabric held together by the thinnest of gold chains. The top barely contains her breasts, the fabric straining against their fullness. The bottom is a Brazilian cut that displays nearly all of her perfect ass, bisected by just a triangle of fabric.

Her makeup has been refreshed--smoky eyes, glossy lips--and she's added gold anklets that catch the light as she walks toward you.

"Or perhaps," she says, her voice dropping to that husky register that makes your cock twitch, "you'd prefer a brunette girl-next-door type? Something more... attainable? Sometimes that's hotter than a total sex doll like me!"

That's statement's a trap!

Her bikini is La Perla--you recognize the distinctive gold clasps from the set you bought her for Valentine's Day that nearly maxed out your credit card. The fabric is a luxurious, high-sheen material that looks painted onto her curves.

"Why are you still dressed?" she asks, reaching for the champagne.

You strip quickly, suddenly self-conscious despite having been naked with her countless times. There's something about knowing you'll soon be in a female body that makes you hyperaware of your male one.

Veronica expertly pops the champagne cork without spilling a drop, filling two flutes. She hands you one, then gestures toward the jacuzzi.

"In you go."

You step into the hot, bubbling water and sink down, the jets massaging your back. Veronica stands at the edge, looking down at you with a predatory smile.

"Last night with this equipment," she says, her eyes dropping to where your cock is already hardening in the water. "Better make it count."

She steps into the jacuzzi with deliberate slowness, allowing you to appreciate every inch of her body. The water comes up just below her breasts as she sits on the bench opposite you, the steam creating a dewy sheen on her skin.

"To new experiences," she says, raising her glass.

You clink glasses and sip the crisp, expensive champagne. Veronica watches you over the rim of her flute, her eyes dark with desire.

"You know what I've been wondering?" she asks, setting her glass aside. "Is the same body type you find attractive in women what you'd want to have yourself? Or would that be boring?"

"I haven't really thought about it," you lie. Of course you've thought about it. What guy hasn't wondered?

"Liar," she says with a knowing smile. "I'm totally okay with you playing with a female body if it's on you. That's just masturbation with extra steps."

The champagne bubbles dance on your tongue as you watch her rise from the water. Her La Perla bikini clings to her curves like a second skin, the expensive fabric now translucent enough to reveal the darker circles of her nipples. Water cascades down the valley between her tits, tracing the toned lines of her stomach before disappearing into the barely-there triangle between her legs.

"I think a big tiddy goth girl might suit you," she muses, moving through the water toward you. "All that pale skin and dark makeup. You could even keep your gaming aesthetic."

She straddles you in one fluid motion, her thighs gripping your hips underwater. The thin fabric of her bikini bottom presses against your hardening cock, her cameltoe creating a perfect channel that your shaft nestles into. The fabric digs slightly into the juicy flesh of her thighs, creating little indentations you want to trace with your tongue.

"Or maybe," she whispers, her lips brushing yours, "I'll keep it a surprise."

Her mouth captures yours, and you taste expensive champagne and that highly specific Veronica flavor--cinnamon-y, ambitious. Her tongue slides against yours, aggressive and demanding. You can feel her smiling into the kiss.

You grab her ass, those perfect caramel globes fitting into your palms like they were sculpted for you. The water makes her skin slippery, and she grinds against your now fully hard cock, the fabric of her bikini creating delicious friction.

"Thank you for doing this, baby," she murmurs against your lips, rolling her hips in a way that makes your eyes roll back. "You have NO IDEA how much it means to me."

Her tits press against your chest, nipples hard points through the thin fabric. You reach up to pull aside one triangle of her top, exposing a perfect breast topped with a dusky pink nipple already puckered from the cool air. She gasps when you take it into your mouth, her back arching to push more titflesh against your tongue.

"Fuck, Alex," she moans, grinding harder against your cock. The jacuzzi jets create bubbles that rise between your bodies, adding another layer of sensation. "You're going to miss these, aren't you? But hey, you'll have your own!"

The thought should be a boner-killer, but somehow, with Veronica's perfect ass grinding against you and her tit in your mouth, it just adds to the surreal eroticism of the moment.

She pulls back, her violet eyes dark with lust. "You know what's weird? I'm not worried about you cheating as a girl. I mean, if you did something with a guy or something--" she giggles, the sound both sexy and slightly cruel, "--that would make you gay! And I don't want a gay boyfriend."

She winks, grinding her blazing-hot pussy harder against your shaft.

"Breaking up with you for that... well, that would be a lot less hard for me to take."

There's something both emasculating and weirdly hot about her casual dismissal of your potential female infidelity. Like she's saying your maleness is what she values, what she's possessive of.

Veronica turns around suddenly, her back to your chest, and reaches between her legs to grasp your cock. She guides it between her ass cheeks, not inside her but nestled in the tight channel between those perfect, jiggly globes.

"Hot-dog me," she commands, leaning forward slightly to give you a better angle.

You grasp her hips, mesmerized by how the water makes her skin gleam under the moonlight. Her ass is a masterpiece--two perfect hemispheres with just the right amount of jiggle, marked with the faintest hint of dimples at the base of her spine. You squeeze those plump cheeks together around your cock and start thrusting.

"Fuck yes," she hisses, reaching back to grab your thigh. "Harder."

The friction is incredible--her ass cheeks create the perfect channel, slick with water and squeezing your cock from all sides. Each thrust makes a lewd PLAP sound as your hips connect with her ass, water splashing around you both.

"You're going to miss this, aren't you?" she taunts, looking back over her shoulder. Her makeup is still somehow perfect, those violet eyes framed by thick lashes that are now spiky with moisture. "Two weeks without your cock. Two weeks with a dripping wet pussy instead."

Something about her words sends a surge of anger-tinged lust through you. You bring your hand down hard on one perfect ass cheek, leaving a pink handprint on her caramel skin.

"Fuck!" she gasps, but you can tell from the way she pushes back against you that she likes it. "Do that again."

You spank her other cheek, harder this time. The CRACK echoes across the terrace, possibly audible to neighboring buildings, but you're too far gone to care.

"That's for making me take this fucking pill," you growl, spanking her again.

"Yes," she moans, her ass clenching rhythmically around your shaft. "Be mad at me. Take it out on my ass."

You establish a rhythm--thrust, SPANK, thrust, SPANK--watching her ass jiggle and redden under your palm. while you use one hand to keep your cock firmly nestled in her ass crack. She's moaning continuously now, one hand disappearing beneath the water to touch herself.

"I'm going to cum," she pants. "Fuck, Alex, I'm going to cum just from you spanking me and hot-dogging my ass. That's how much I love your cock."

Her words push you closer to the edge. Your balls tighten, that familiar pressure building at the base of your spine. You grab both her asscheeks and squeeze them together brutally tight around your cock, thrusting faster, the water splashing violently around you both.

"Last nut as a man," she says. "Make it fucking- ngh- count!"

That does it. Your orgasm tears through you like a lightning bolt, your cock pulsing as you shoot thick ropes of cum between her asscheeks. Jet after jet of hot white cum spurts up her back, some landing as high as her shoulder blades. She's still cumming too, her body trembling against yours, ass clenching around your spurting cock.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK," she chants, grinding back against you to milk every last drop.

When the aftershocks finally subside, she turns to face you, her eyes glassy. She reaches behind her back, gathering a dollop of your cum on her finger. With deliberate eye contact, she brings it to her mouth and licks it clean, making a show of savoring the taste before washing it down with a sip of champagne.

"So, think about THAT for the next two weeks," she purrs, settling back on your lap. Your softening cock nestles against her ass, spent but still twitching occasionally.

"Jesus, Roni," you mutter, still trying to catch your breath.

The water has grown tepid, but neither of you moves to get out. Veronica traces lazy patterns on your chest, her head resting on your shoulder.

"You know," she says, "I've been thinking about this trip for months. The Matsuhisa contract could put Valentine Strategies on the map globally. But every time I pictured myself in those meetings, I kept seeing you back here, surrounded by temptation."

Her fingers drift lower, circling your navel. "Not because I don't trust you specifically. It's just... men are biologically wired to spread their seed. It's not your fault--it's evolution."

You snort. "That's a convenient excuse for shitty behavior."

She lifts her head. "Maybe you're more evolved than most."

"Or maybe I just really fucking love you," you say, surprising yourself with the intensity in your voice.

Something flashes across her face--vulnerability, maybe even guilt--before she masks it with a smile.

"Come on," she says, standing up. Water cascades down her body, the bikini now completely transparent. "Let's shower."

You follow her through the terrace doors into the master bathroom, a temple of marble and gold fixtures. The shower is a massive walk-in with multiple heads positioned at different heights. She reaches in to start the water, then turns to you, unhooking her bikini top.

"So," she says, letting the tiny triangles fall away, exposing her perfect tits. "What kind of body do you think you're going to have?"

You watch as she hooks her thumbs into the sides of her bikini bottom and slowly slides it down her legs. Your eyes trace the curve of her hip bones, the flat plane of her stomach, the neatly trimmed triangle between her legs.

"Knowing you," you say, stepping into her space, "you've picked something that will simultaneously torture me and amuse you."

She laughs, pulling you under the spray. "Am I that predictable?"

"Strategic," you correct, reaching for the hotel's fancy body wash. "You never do anything without multiple layers of purpose."

You squeeze some wash into your palm and begin soaping her body, taking your time with each curve and valley. Her skin is impossibly soft, warm under your hands. She sighs as you massage her shoulders, her back, her ass.

"I've spent a small fortune on these pills," she admits, turning to face you. Her nipples harden as your soapy hands glide over them. "I want to get my money's worth."

"Of course you do," you murmur, leaning down to kiss her.

She responds hungrily, pressing her slick body against yours. Her hands tangle in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make your scalp tingle. You back her against the cool marble wall, lifting one of her legs to hook around your waist.

"Pick me up while you still can," she breathes against your mouth.

You hoist her higher, both her legs now wrapped around you, her back sliding against the wall.

"Maybe I'll still be able to," you say between kisses. "Maybe you'll turn me into an Amazon."

"Maybe," she teases, biting your lower lip.

The hot water pounds against your back as you make out like teenagers, all tongue and teeth and wandering hands. She tastes like champagne and desire, her body undulating against yours in a rhythm as old as time.

Eventually, the water begins to cool. You set her down gently, both of you breathless and flushed.

"I want to watch you change," she says, reaching for a towel. "I want to see it happen."

There's an almost clinical curiosity in her voice that should worry you, but after the night you've had, you're feeling magnanimous.

"Your wish is my command," you say with a theatrical bow.

She wraps a plush hotel towel around herself, tucking it between her breasts. "Let's do it in the bedroom. More space."

You follow her, towel slung low on your hips, watching the hypnotic sway of her ass. Despite having just come spectacularly in the jacuzzi, you feel desire stirring again. Two weeks suddenly seems like an eternity.

In the bedroom, she sits cross-legged on the massive bed, her towel riding up to reveal the tops of her thighs. She pats the space in front of her.