Penelope stood in the sterile lab room, her altered body humming with reluctant awareness as the researchers watched her with clinical eyes. "That was a good trial run," one said, voice flat. "Now we're recording for William. Be very descriptive. Every detail. Every filthy thought. He needs to see exactly what his sister is." Her stomach dropped, but she squared her shoulders, refusing to shrink. "You think this breaks me? Watch how I own it." She turned, heels clicking, and climbed the stairs to Bill's room. The familiar cologne scent hit her as she propped the phone on the nightstand and hit record, standing tall with hands behind her back. "Bill, it's Penelope. They made me do this, but I'm choosing how it plays out." She unbuttoned her blouse slowly, witty banter flowing: "Remember how I'd peek? Now the game's flipped—I'm the one directing the show." The bra came off, her heavy breasts spilling free, nipples hard. "I told them I wanted you to take me, breed me, but only because the idea makes my pussy throb. Your cock would feel so good claiming this." The skirt and panties followed, leaving her naked except for the heels, arousal dripping down her thigh. A researcher entered, and tension snapped—she pulled him close with sharp words: "You want a show? Earn it." Their bodies tangled on the bed, her riding him hard, panting as his cock filled her wet pussy. "That's it, deeper—feel how ready I am." She came with a cry, cum dripping as he followed, both sweating and spent. She faced the camera again, strong and unbowed. "See, Bill? I'm no victim." The red light blinked on, promising more.
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