"... and I think I should return back to my body now." You suggest feeling intimidated suddenly. Being this woman feels wrong.
Mr Jensen... your husband grins. "Proof... yes. And something more... you see you aren't returning," his grin widens in victory as he motions his bodyguard. Your blood goes cold with dread as the bodyguard grabs you by the wrist and easily pulls you out of the chamber. With little effort he lifts your voluptuous body over his shoulder. You struggle feebly, rounded arse high, body bent in half at your narrow, full rounded breasts squishing into his back, beating weakly on his back with your small balled fists. "Quiet! Stop that struggling." Your husband snaps. You still immediately, years of obedience too hard to overcome. "You see this technology is too valuable... too lucrative to let it go to waste in your hands. So I'm taking it. That document you just foolishly signed without even reading and your acceptance of the bonds gave me full legal ownership of your research and nanites. You're body is effectively brain dead. An empty shell. Your work is mine... and you my dear wife Cassandra are also mine."
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