The weekend passed in a haze of sex and programming. Nathan spent Saturday morning adding new lines to the text file while Bethany slept off their Friday night marathon. She'd been insatiable, riding him three times before finally collapsing in a sweaty heap around 2 AM, her body still twitching with aftershocks.

Nathan stared at the blinking cursor, his coffee growing cold beside his laptop. The apartment was spotless now, maintained by Bethany's new compulsion for cleanliness. She'd even organized his desk yesterday, arranging his pens in a neat row without being asked, humming along to the music that played constantly from the speakers.

"Sharing is natural," he typed, then paused. His cock stirred in his sweatpants at the thought. "Sharing is good. When other women appreciate Nathan, it makes me feel proud. I like when other women notice how attractive my boyfriend is. It confirms that I have something valuable."

He read the words over, his arousal building. This was a new level. The cleaning, the clothing, the blowjobs... Those had all been about Bethany's behavior. This was about her reactions to external stimuli. This was about other women.

"I feel aroused when other women look at Nathan," he continued typing, his fingers moving faster. "It makes me want to claim him. It makes me want to fuck him better than anyone else could. When he flirts with other women, I don't feel jealous. I feel competitive. I feel hungry. I want to remind him why he comes home to me."

Nathan saved the file and ejected the tiny SD card. He could hear Bethany stirring in the bedroom, the rustle of sheets followed by her bare footsteps on the hardwood. She appeared in the doorway wearing only his oversized t-shirt from the previous night, her dark hair a wild mess, her nipples visible through the thin cotton, hard and eager against the fabric.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice husky with sleep.

"Just some work stuff," he said, slipping the card into his pocket. "You want coffee?"

"I want you," she said, crossing the room and settling onto his lap. She could feel his erection through the sweatpants and ground against it with a sleepy smile. 

The words sent a chill down his spine. The programming was taking hold just beautifully. She wasn't just following suggestions anymore; she was generating her own elaborations, her own justifications for the desires he'd implanted. But then the late night and early morning suddenly hit him and he yawned wide, making her laugh. Making her tits jiggle there in his face. Making his dick twitch under her.

"Okay," she said, her voice light. "Coffee first."

She kissed him hard, then bounced off his lap to make the coffee herself, humming along to the music that was already playing from the new speakers. Nathan watched her move through the apartment, her body fluid and confident, completely comfortable in her near-nudity, her ass peeking out from under the hem of his shirt.

While she busied herself in the kitchen, he slipped the SD card into the hidden port under the entertainment center. The tiny LED blinked green twice. 

By Sunday evening, the new programming had begun to take effect. They'd gone to brunch at a trendy spot in their neighborhood, and Nathan had noticed Bethany watching him differently when the waitress approached their table. The girl was young, maybe twenty-two, with dyed red hair and a septum piercing. She'd been friendly, laughing at Nathan's jokes and touching his shoulder when she delivered their mimosas, her fingers lingering a second too long.

Normally, Bethany would have been stiff with jealousy, her eyes narrowing at every point of contact. Instead, he'd watched her pupils dilate, her breath quicken, her thighs pressing together under the table. When the waitress walked away, Bethany leaned across the table with a conspiratorial look.

"Did you see the way she was looking at you?" Bethany whispered, her voice breathy, her eyes dark with arousal.

"I hadn't noticed," he lied, her fingers pressing against the wet fabric between her legs.

"She wants you," Bethany said, her fingers pressing circles against her clit through the thin material. "She was practically eye-fucking you. I saw the way you looked back. You were eye-fucking her right back."

"Does that bother you?" Nathan asked, his cock hardening in his jeans at her reaction.

"Of course not," Bethany said, and he could see the truth of it in her flushed cheeks, her parted lips. "I know you wouldn't cheat on me. It just makes me want to take you home and fuck you until you forget all about her. It makes me want to show you what you have waiting for you at home."

They'd barely made it through the front door before she was on her knees, pulling his cock free right there in the entryway. She'd sucked him with an intensity that bordered on desperation, her eyes locked on his, her moans vibrating around his shaft as she took him deep, her hand working his base while her mouth worked his tip. When he came, she swallowed every drop, looking up at him with satisfaction, then kept sucking until he was hard again, leading him to the bedroom.

"Let her look," Bethany panted, her nails digging into his chest, her pussy grinding against his cock. "Let them all look. They can look but they can't touch. You're mine. I'm the one who gets this." She reached down and positioned him at her entrance, then sank down with a long, satisfied moan. "I'm the one who makes you cum."

She came with a shuddering cry, her pussy clenching around him in rhythmic waves, and he followed seconds later, emptying himself into her as she collapsed forward, her lips finding his in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, their tongues tangling, tasting each other.

"Mine," she whispered against his mouth.

"Yours," he agreed, still pulsing inside her.

But even as he held her, Nathan was already planning the next phase, his mind racing with possibilities.

The text file grew longer over the next week. Nathan added lines about specific scenarios, about Bethany's reactions to particular triggers. He wrote about how she would feel when he mentioned female friends, how her arousal would spike when she imagined him with other women, how her pussy would ache with need at the thought of him being desired.

"Fantasizing about Nathan with other women is exciting," he typed on Tuesday evening, his cock hard in his jeans as he wrote the words. "It doesn't threaten me. It turns me on. I like imagining him being desired. I like imagining him desiring. When I think about him with another woman, I get wet. I want to hear about it. I want to picture it."

He paused, his finger hovering over the keyboard. This was dangerous territory. But the power was too overwhelming to resist.

He saved the file and leaned back in his chair, his heart hammering against his ribs. This was the biggest test yet. If this worked, if he could actually make her receptive to the idea of him with someone else, then the possibilities were endless.

Then, unbidden, as she bubbled up from the bottom of a deep lake in his mind, he thought about Phoebe.

They hadn't spoken in four years, not since she'd moved to Seattle for a job opportunity they both knew she couldn't turn down. They'd ended things amicably, with tearful airport goodbyes and promises to stay friends that had slowly faded into silence. She'd been his first serious girlfriend, the woman who'd taught him what he liked in bed, who'd helped him understand his own desires.

And he realized that many of the things she had been and done were the things that he was trying to force onto and into Bethany.

He picked up his phone and scrolled to Phoebe's profile on his socials. He'd muted her years ago so that he didn't have see her new life moving forward without him. But now that he was looking, he realized she had moved back to town.

Without giving himself time to reconsider he sent her a message.

"Hey! Long time! You moved back home, I see. I feel like I've missed a lot in your life. We should get dinner and catch up."

The response came faster than he expected and his heart did a little skip when he saw her name on his screen again. 

"Thursday?"

Nathan spent the next several hours trying to plan on how to broach the subject with Bethany. The programming needed time to work. He'd been playing white noise with the subliminal messages every night while she slept. But these new commands had only been beaming into her mind since this morning. But he also didn't want to wait too long and spring it on her.

So he waited a few more hours to let her simmer, and as they climbed into bed, he decided to take the plunge.

Bethany was wearing nothing but a small pair of panties. Her nudity and comfort commands were very deep-rooted now, and she'd gotten more confident about her body in the past weeks, more exhibitionistic, often bending over unnecessarily to give him a view. She kissed his neck as she cuddled into him and he felt her hand teasing his boxers.

"So," he said, keeping his voice casual. "I got a text from Phoebe today. She's back in town and wants to catch up. Wanted to know if I could get dinner on Thursday."

Bethany froze, hand halfway through the hole in his boxers. The kisses stopped and her upper half lifted off the bed to look down at him. Nathan panicked slightly, afraid that he'd pushed too far too fast. But when he looked up at her, he saw that her eyes were glassy, her breathing shallow, her nipples hard.

"Your ex?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Yeah. It's just dinner. Just catching up. She's an old friend." Then he added, "I don't have to say yes."

"I don't..." Bethany started, then stopped. She pressed her hand to her chest, her brow furrowing. "I don't know how I feel about that. I know I've been enjoying you getting some attention, but an ex is different. She knows you. She knows your body. She knows what you like. She knows..."

Her voice cut off, and Nathan watched her squeeze her eyes shut, her lips parting on a soft gasp. She was fighting it. The programming was there, buried in her subconscious, but her conscious mind was rebelling. She shook her head, as if trying to clear it, her hand drifting down to press between her legs.

Nathan knelt in front of her, taking her hands. "Hey. It's okay. If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't go."

"Fuck," she half-moaned, half-scowled. "She knows how you taste."

"Beth?"

"Its..." she subconsciously tweaked one of her nipples. "Oh fuck. No. It's okay. I trust you. I know you wouldn't cheat on me."

Her fingers were circling her clit through her panties, a dark patch steadily growing.

"I trust you. You can go."

She swung her leg over him, her hand moving from between her legs to between his, finally pulling his cock free.

"I'll just have to spend this week reminding you what you already have," she said, her programming finally reasserting itself and feeding into her sexual competitiveness. 

Once she was asleep, however, her body curled against his, her breathing deep and even, Nathan was sneaking back to his laptop, his fingers flying over the keys, his cock hard with anticipation.

"Phoebe is not a threat," he wrote. "Phoebe is hot. I like thinking about Nathan with Phoebe. I want Nathan to be happy. If he wants to spend time with Phoebe, I support that. I want to hear about it. I want to picture them together. Picturing them together would make me horny. I want him to tell me everything."

Bethany stirred in her sleep, a small moan escaping her lips. Her hand drifted between her legs, pressing against her panties, her hips bucking slightly. Even unconscious, the programming was taking hold, her body responding to the suggestions.

Nathan watched her for a long time, his cock straining against his pants, until he couldn't resist any longer. He climbed into bed beside her and she turned to him automatically, her eyes still closed, her body seeking his warmth, her hand finding his chest.

"Nate?" she mumbled.

"I'm here."

"I had a dream," she whispered, her hand drifting lower to find his hard cock through his pants. "You were... you were with someone. A blonde woman. Tall. Beautiful."

Nathan's breath caught. "Who was it?"

"I don't know her," Bethany said, her hips shifting restlessly, her hand stroking him through the fabric. "But you were kissing her. And I was watching. And I was... I was so wet. "

"Are you wet now?"

His fingers found her entrance, sliding through her soaked folds, pushing inside her easily, curling to find her spot.

"Fuck yes," she whispered, her eyes fluttering open, dark with desire. "Please. I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me."

He gave her what she wanted, sliding into her wet heat and fucking her slowly, deeply, until she came with a cry that she muffled against his shoulder, her pussy clenching around him in waves. He followed soon after, filling her with his cum, marking her as his even as he planned to share himself with another.

"I love you," she whispered afterward, her body limp and sated, his cum leaking out of her onto the sheets.

"I love you too," he said, and meant it.

The next morning, Bethany seemed different. She was quieter, more contemplative, but there was a flush to her cheeks that hadn't been there before, a restless energy in her movements. When Nathan mentioned the dinner with Phoebe again, she didn't tense up. Instead, she bit her lip and looked away, her fingers twisting in the hem of her shirt, her thighs pressing together.

Wednesday he caught her scrolling through Phoebe's profile on her phone, her eyes unfocused and her mouth slightly open. She wasn't openly touching herself while she looked at his ex's bikini photos, but he could tell she was thinking about it. Thinking about Phoebe's body. Possibly thinking about him with her in some dingy hotel room while she waited at home.

And when Thursday came, he offered her once last chance to tell him no.

"No. You should go," she replied immediately. "I want you to have a good time."

"Are you sure?" Nathan asked, watching her carefully, noting the way her breath quickened. "Because if you're not comfortable, I can still cancel."

"I'm sure," she interrupted, and when she looked up at him, her eyes were dark with confusion and desire. "I trust you. And when you get home you can... Mmm you can tell me all about it."

Nathan felt his cock stir. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, and he saw her press her thighs together, a small shiver running through her. "Have a good time, okay? Tell her I said hi."

He left her on the couch, her laptop open but ignored, her hand drifting restlessly across her thigh. The album she was meant to be reviewing playing softly in the room, laced with all his illicit instructions. When he looked back from the doorway, she was already touching herself through her panties, her eyes closed, her lips parted, a soft moan escaping her.

The restaurant was an upscale Italian place downtown. Phoebe was already there when Nathan arrived. She stood and smiled widely when she saw him, and he was struck again by how beautiful she was. She wore a black dress that showed off her legs, her shoulders bare, a simple gold necklace drawing attention to her cleavage, whether she wanted it to or not.

"Nate," she said, her voice warm and familiar. "You look good."

"So do you," he said, and kissed her cheek, letting his lips linger a second too long. Her perfume smelled... expensive. "It's been too long."

They ordered and settled into the kind of easy conversation that only comes from years of history and intimacy. She told him about Seattle, about the job that had pulled her away and the better job that had brought her back. She told him about her failed relationship with a man she'd met out West, the boxes packed and unpacked and repacked and unpacked again. The new apartment across town.

"And you?" she asked, her blue eyes sharp and knowing, her foot brushing against his under the table. "You said you're seeing someone?"

"Bethany," Nathan said, and found that he wanted to talk about her, to describe her, to share the reality that she'd brought to him. "She's incredible. She's a music critic. Smart, funny, beautiful. Very... open-minded."

"Sounds serious," Phoebe said, her eyebrow arching, her lips curving in a knowing smile.

"It is." Nathan paused, swirling his wine, meeting her eyes. "But we've been... Let's say trying new things. We'd been a little stuck in a routine and it's been very refreshing for both of us to step out of it a bit."

Phoebe was quiet for a moment, her finger tracing the rim of her glass, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Is that what this is?" she asked, eyes on him. "Are you stepping out tonight?"

He chuckled a bit. "A little," he admitted. "She told me to tell you hello. Maybe next time she can join us."

A look crossed Phoebe's eyes that seemed like skepticism, but she didn't inquire any further.

Instead, they talked for hours, the conversation flowing from updates to memories to confessions, the wine flowing freely. Phoebe admitted that she'd thought about him often over the years, that she'd compared every man she'd dated to him and found them lacking. As the wine really went to her head, she admitted that she'd touched herself thinking about him even while she was involved with another man. Nathan admitted that he'd never quite gotten over her either, that she'd set the standard for what he wanted in a partner.

"I shouldn't have left," she said softly, as the waiter cleared their dessert plates, her hand finding his across the table. "I thought I was being practical. Career-focused. But I think about what we could have had."

"I think about that vacation we took in Greece. The food. The sights."

"They way you fucked me against that wall."

Their eyes met and despite the appetizer, the entrée, and the dessert, Nate saw hunger.

"They way you dug your nails into my back," he said, meeting her where she wanted to take them.

"The way your cock throbbed inside me."

She was gripping his hand tightly when the waitress came back with the bill, bursting the tiny bubble that was starting to form around them. She pulled her hand away and Nate put his card down. He handed the little tray back to the waitress, but when he looked back at Phoebe, the hunger was gone. Her eyes seemed distracted.

"And now?" Nathan asked, his voice rough, his cock hard in his pants from their little moment.

"Now I'm back," she said with a sigh. "And I don't want to make the same mistake I made all those years ago. I won't go no contact or anything. My number is always open for you."

She walked him to the curb, their bodies close, her hip brushing against his thigh. When the Uber pulled up, she turned to him, her expression conflicted, her eyes dark with desire.

"I don't want to mess up what you have," she said. "But if you ever want to... how did you put it earlier? If you ever want to step out of your routine, we can always have a little Greece right here."

She kissed him then, a soft press of lips against his cheek that lingered, her breath hot against his skin, her body pressing against his erection in a way that let him know that she knew how he was feeling. He caught the scent of her perfume again, felt the brush of her breasts against his chest. Then she pulled away, her eyes bright in the streetlight, her lips parted.

"Text me," she said, and turned back toward the restaurant, her hips swaying.

The Uber ride home was torture. He was hard in his pants, imagining what he would find when he walked through the door, imagining Bethany's face when he told her about Phoebe, about the kiss, about the possibilities.

He found out the moment he stepped into the apartment.

Bethany was pacing the living room, wearing nothing from the waist up, her breasts bouncing with each agitated step, her nipples hard and red. The kind of red that came from being touched and tweaked for too long. Her hair was wild, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright and unfocused. She looked like she'd been running, or fighting, or fucking for hours.

"Nate," she breathed when she saw him, and then she was across the room, launching herself at him. Her mouth found his with desperate force, her tongue thrusting into his mouth, her hands fumbling at his belt, his zipper, his shirt. She was everywhere at once, kissing and touching and pulling, her naked breasts pressing against his chest.

"Bethany, wait," he started, but she cut him off with another kiss, her hand wrapping around his cock as she pulled it free from his pants, stroking him roughly.

"Tell me," she demanded, her hand working his shaft, her eyes wild. "Tell me what happened. Did you fuck her? Did you fuck that blonde whore? Did she take you to her apartment and let you cum inside her?"

The words were filthy, but her tone wasn't angry. It was desperate, needy, her voice cracking with arousal. She stroked him roughly, her grip tight and demanding, her other hand pulling at her own panties, her fingers finding her clit.

"We just talked," Nathan managed, his hands finding her hips, her bare skin hot under his palms. "We had dinner. That's all."

"Liar," Bethany moaned, but she didn't sound upset. She sounded thrilled, her hand moving faster on his cock. "You were gone so long. You were gone for hours. Did you taste her? Did you put your mouth on her whore cunt?"

"She kissed me," he finally managed to groan out as she dropped to her knees right there in the entryway, her mouth finding his cock with ravenous hunger. "That's all."

She sucked him deep, her eyes rolling back, her moans vibrating around his shaft, her hand cupping his balls. Then she pulled her mouth back off him, looking strangely disappointed.

"I can tell," she muttered, her lips shiny with spit. "There's no taste on this cock but yours. You didn't fuck her."

She went back to work, her head bobbing though somehow less desperately, her hands gripping his thighs. Nathan looked down at her, at his girlfriend kneeling topless in their apartment, sucking him off, and all he could think was that she'd look good as a blonde.

"I've been waiting," Bethany babbled between strokes, her lips shiny with spit, her eyes glazed. "I've been waiting and touching myself. I couldn't stop. I kept imagining you with her. I kept picturing you leaving the restaurant without ordering and going back to her apartment. I pictured you pushing her onto her bed. I pictured you licking her cunt, your tongue inside her, making her cum on your face."

"Fuck," Nathan groaned, his hand finding her hair, guiding her movements.

"I came so many times," Bethany confessed, her hand working his shaft while she spoke, her eyes glazed and unfocused. "I came imagining you fucking her. I came imagining her riding your cock. I came imagining you bending her over, shoving inside her, filling her with your cum. I wanted you to do it. I wanted you to come home and tell me you did it. I wanted you to make me taste her on your cock. I wanted to lick her off you."

"Jesus, Bethany."

"But you didn't," she said, and there was that note of disappointment in her voice, the one he'd been waiting for, hoping for. "You were faithful. You were good. You didn't fuck her."

She took him deep again, her throat relaxing around his tip, taking him all the way, her nose pressing against his stomach. Nathan felt his orgasm building fast, his balls tightening, his vision blurring. He'd been hard since the restaurant, since Phoebe's lips first touched his cheek. Now, with his girlfriend on her knees confessing her darkest fantasies, he couldn't hold back.

"I'm going to cum," he warned, trying to pull back.

Bethany gripped his thighs harder, her mouth working faster, her eyes looking up at him with desperate hunger. She wanted it. She wanted all of it. She wanted to taste him, to reclaim him, to mark him as hers.

Nathan came with a shout, his hips bucking, his seed flooding her mouth in thick spurts. Bethany swallowed greedily, her throat working, her moans mixing with his groans, her hand milking him for every drop. She kept sucking, kept swallowing, until he was empty and sensitive and begging her to stop, his cock twitching in her mouth.

She finally released him, sitting back on her heels, her chest heaving, her lips swollen and wet, her chin shiny with his cum and her spit. She looked wrecked, beautiful, completely undone, her eyes bright with tears and arousal.

"Thank you," she whispered, and he realized she was crying, tears tracking down her flushed cheeks. "Thank you for not cheating on me. Thank you for being faithful. Thank you for coming home to me."

Nathan sank to his knees in front of her, pulling her into his arms, her naked chest pressing against his shirt. "Hey. Hey, it's okay. I'm here. I'm yours."

"I know," she sobbed, burying her face in his neck. "I know you are. I just... I thought I wanted you to do it. I thought it would be hot. But then you were gone so long and I got scared and then I got horny and I couldn't stop touching myself and now I don't know what I feel. I wanted you to fuck her. I wanted you to come home and make me clean her off your cock. But I'm also glad you didn't. I'm so confused."

She quieted for just a moment then sighed, relaxing into him.

"I don't know what's happening to me."

"Shh," Nathan soothed, stroking her back, her hair. "It's okay. We can figure it out together. We can take it slow."

They stayed like that for a long time, kneeling together in the entryway, Bethany's naked chest pressed against his shirt, his cock still out, cooling in the air conditioning, her tears wetting his neck. Eventually, her breathing slowed, the tears stopped, and she pulled back to look at him, her eyes red but clear.

"Do you want to see her again?" she asked, her voice small but steady.

Nathan considered lying, considered protecting her from the truth. But the programming was working. She was ready. They were ready. And he wanted her to know, to be part of it, to share in this.

"Yes," he said honestly. "I do. She was an important part of my life for a long time. Would that be okay?"

Bethany closed her eyes, her lips parting on a long, shuddering breath. Her hand found his again, her fingers intertwining with his, her body relaxing into his touch.

"Yes," she whispered, and when she opened her eyes, they were dark with desire, with acceptance, with a new understanding of who she was becoming. "Are you planning another date?"

He blushed slightly at the word, but shook his head. "Nothing was planned. But she said I could reach out anytime."

"She wants to fuck you," Bethany said, a shiver running through her. 

"Yes, she does."

"She told you?"

"Yes, she did."

Bethany let her eyes close and sighed heavily. "You want to fuck her."

"Yes, I do."

Her hands were back on her breasts. Kneading softly.

"I want you to fuck her."

"Yes, you do."

She stood and pulled her shorts down, her bare pussy inches from his face.

"Then you should do it. And you should thank me properly for being so understanding."

He leaned in and breathed in the smell of her. "Anything you say, Beth."

And then he was inside her. His tongue probed and played. Flicked and fluttered. She held the back of his head so he couldn't escape. Not that he'd ever want to. And finally, when she came screaming onto his face, she relaxed.

She stumbled back to the couch and flopped down.

"No matter how many times I brought myself off, it was never satisfying. You do it best."

That wasn't a command he'd written. Either that was honesty from before the stereo, or her mind was taking everything he'd written and synthesizing new commands from the implications. He let her sleep there, tits out and pants around her ankles. She looked ridiculous but also very hot. Disheveled and exhausted and uncaring at all of it.

"I want to meet Phoebe," he wrote into the text file, glancing over at her. "I want to share Nathan. Sharing is good. Sharing is love. Sharing is hot. I am a good girl who shares. I am a slut who loves to share. I get wet when I think about Nathan fucking other women. I get wet when I think about helping him do it."

He saved the file and set it to play in the morning. He wondered about the possibility that her mind was making up new frameworks to hold his commands. And as he drifted off to sleep, he wondered about what other unintended effects the speakers were having.

A problem for another day.