Electronic takeover: Married Woman Yui Takanashi episode 4 (Patreon)

The moment the door opened, I—the original me—stood frozen at the sight before me.

"…Hey."

There, in the hallway, stood my neighbor, Yukari Takanashi—except the gentle smile she always wore was completely gone. Instead, her lips curled into a smirk so undeniably masculine it sent a chill down my spine.

"So? What do ya think, me?" she—he—grinned, running slender fingers down the curve of her chest. Even through her crisp white blouse, the stiffened peaks of her nipples were unmistakable.

"…Get inside."

I stepped aside wordlessly, watching as myself—now in Yukari’s stolen body—strutted in, victorious. The faint scent of luxury shampoo trailed behind her—his hair now.

"Hah. Never thought you’d invite me in so easy," the voice from my lips—hers now—chuckled.

"What the hell were you doing just now?" I demanded.

"Hm? Ah, just… experimenting."

A mischievous grin split her lips as he licked a fingertip—still glistening with something wet. The movement was undeniably feminine… yet behind it, only malice remained.

"This body’s way more sensitive than I thought." A rough laugh, one that should never come from Yukari Takanashi’s throat. "So? Gonna ask what I’m plannin’ next?”

The smirk widened. "Oh, I’m just gonna… enjoy myself."

A hand left the teacup, returning to unbutton the blouse further, exposing the delicate dip of her collarbone. The gaze of a man undressing a woman—only the woman was now him.

"First, I’ll play the perfect little wife for that clueless cuck of a husband…"

Then she—he—leaned in, Yukari’s sweet breath brushing against my ear in a way never meant for another man.

"…And you and me? Oh, we've got so much to play with, don’t we?"

I pulled out my phone. The screen displayed a cascade of neural waveforms and complex parameters—his parameters.

"So… how’s it feel?"

"Took some real work at first."

She rolled up the blouse sleeve, staring at the smooth wrist—turning it in the light, fingers testing the give of skin like it was a borrowed glove.

"Motor cortex remapping took ninety minutes. The fine control was the bitch—had to recalibrate the whole muscle memory loop. ‘Delicate’ movements? My old neurons weren’t wired for shit like this."

"And now?"

"Flawless."

The hand waved effortlessly—no trace of the early stiffness.

"Cerebellum feedback’s stable. Somatosensory integration’s near perfect, too—no dissociation between what I see and what I feel. Full proprietary ownership."

"Any lingering issues?"

"Nah. Actually—"

She stood in a quick pivot, body turning with feminine ease.

"—This hardware’s got some nice perks. Flexibility’s better. Sensory’s precision-tuned. If I’d known penetration felt like this, I’d have switched teams earlier."

I snorted.

"Ha—so you’re saying you like being a woman now?"

"Fuck off. You’re the one who stuck me in this thing."

Yet Yui’s fingers had unconsciously skimmed the vulnerable pulse at her neck—was this the original’s habit… or him?

"Point is—phase one’s green. The experiment’s a success."

I snapped the laptop shut.

The reality settled in: me across the table… and me inside her body.

"——Nah, man, this is seriously messed up, huh?"

The "Yui" who wasn’t Yui took a sip of tea from the original owner’s favorite mug, pinky unconsciously raised—yet the smirk curling those lips was anything but demure.

"But posting on public sites, though—?"

"This body's way more responsive than I thought," she—he—mused, deliberately averting her gaze while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear—exactly like the real Yui would.

"Call it ‘data collection.’ You ever think about writing a paper? ‘Correlation Between Humiliation and Female Orgasm’ —bet it’d get cited to hell."

She flicked the hem of her skirt with a giggle—zero trace of scientific detachment left.

"You breached every protocol—"

"Oh c’moooon," she singsonged, twirling at the windowsill. The skirt flared against the sunset, backlit silhouette too damn perfect.

"Override’s at 98%—who cares about ‘minor personal exploration’?"

The voice belonged to Yui. The giddiness? A man reveling in his cheat code.

A finger jabbed my way.

"And, hey—you don’t get to judge, Mr. *‘I-Hacked-Her-Underwear-Drawer-Last-Sunday.’"

"Shut up."

"Okayyy~♡”

She mimed zipping her lips shut—then booped her own nose. Cute. Obscene.

——This was the real experiment now.

"Alright, let's get down to business."

Leaning back against the sofa, Not-Yui slowly tugged up the hem of her white shirt just enough to reveal the smooth thighs beneath sheer fabric. A delicate finger rose to press against her lips—such an unmistakably feminine gesture, yet the undertone oozed something far more wicked.

"Tell me… What part excited you the most when you took over me?"

The voice was Yui’s through and through, but the rough edges of his inflection bled into every syllable, twisting the words into something lurid. Her free hand dragged lazily up the side of her neck—slow, calculating—then dipped lower, teasing the swell of her chest through the fabric. The stiffened peaks pressing against the shirt left little to the imagination.

"Was it this? The way you could just… touch a married woman, ruin her like this, whenever you wanted?”

A tongue swiped up the length of her own finger in an obscene parody of teasing. Her gaze locked right on mine—blatant, mocking. No trace of the real Yukari’s modesty left.

"The other day, when I—she—was standing in the kitchen like this, her husband grabbed me from behind." A hand ghosted over the open collar of her shirt, tracing the sharp line of her collarbone. "I was already in here by then, obviously."

A sockless foot nudged against my knee. Warmth seeped through the thin fabric of my pants—too intimate, too deliberate.

"Poor thing. How frustrated did that make you? Knowing another man was groping your prize?"

Then, just like that, the distance snapped back—her retreat playful, her smile the very picture of ruined innocence.

"But don’t worry…"

A tilt of her head, her voice dripping saccharine.

"Now, you can do whatever you want to me. ♡"

…Mmm."

Our lips met—first tentative, testing the waters. Then, in an instant, her tongue pushed past, searing and slick, claiming my mouth with a proprietary heat.

"Nngh—!"

Her arms wound around me, fingers clawing into my back with possessive desperation. Shirt fabric twisted tight as she crushed us closer, hips flush—every centimeter engineered for ruin. The scent of stolen black tea and something darker—perfume turned sin—filled the space between us.

Pulling back just a breath, I saw her lips glisten, swollen with violence. Then—

Bite.

A sharp nip at my lower lip, pain laced with filthy delight. A groan tore free before I could stop it.

"Hah—"

Second kiss: deeper. Tongues twisting, slick noise loud in the quiet. Her pulse pounded under my grip—proof this was real. That delicate wrist pinned to my chest now curled, nails scraping down fabric to tease herself absentmindedly. Even through silk, hardened peaks begged for more.

Finally, gasping apart—a silver thread still connecting us.

Her eyes, dazed. Her cheeks, blushed. But the gaze beneath?

All mine.

"Well?" she panted—voice sweet, corruption sweeter—tilting her chin to lick the wet shame from her own lips. "A proper wife’s mouth… worth the wait?"

Cruel.

Perfect.

Electric tension crackled between us—unblinking eyes locked, hunger mirrored in stolen flesh. Then, slow as sin, "Yui" rolled her hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of those scandalously thin pants.

"C'mon… We both know this is what you actually want."

A zipper descended, each metallic hiss measured, deliberate. Buttons slipped free with practiced ease, yet—not enough. She let the fabric gape just so, revealing a sliver of porcelain skin at her hips, the shadow between them unmistakably bare.

The pants stayed on.

Of course they did.

Instead, her palm dragged up the taut fabric, emphasizing the heated swell beneath—never stripping, just forcing me to imagine. The damp trail down her spine screamed mockery.

"Feels familiar, right? Take a good look—every inch belongs to you now."

A devil's grin.

This was always the game.

"Here… let me show you."

The zip of denim cut through the air as "Yui" dragged the zipper down, slow and deliberate. The parted fabric revealed—

"So? A married woman’s pussy—just what you imagined?"

Soft, unblemished thighs framed the slick, parted flesh between them. The jeans stayed low on her hips—just enough to tease—stretched taut, fabric bunched around trembling legs. And at the center, glistening under the fading evening light, her cunt fluttered, pink and shameless.

"Heh… until a few days ago, this belonged to that cluelass husband of mine."

A single fingertip traced the length of her slit, spreading it wide—shameless, obscene. The sticky sheen caught the sunset just so, fully on display.

"Everything you ever wanted to steal… it's all here now."

A deliberate roll of her hips made denim rasp against skin—the friction drawing a low, masculine chuckle from her throat. The contrast was dizzying: A wife’s body, offered up, corrupted yet still clothed—as if nothing had changed.

"…So?"

A step forward, close enough for shared breath. Tongue dragging over her own bottom lip.

"What do you wanna do with your new toy?"

Next → https://www.patreon.com/posts/electronic-woman-129242339