"Uh, Chris. I think you're my wife."
"What?" Chris. "What makes you think that?"
"Well, Christine, first of all you're a spitting image of my fantasy girl. Petite, feminine and probably quite weak." Mike demonstrated this by grabbing Christine's hand, and easily wrestling the Chronivac out of it.
"Secondly, there's a wedding photo of us behind you. And thirdly, you're wearing nothing but a wedding ring and a leather collar."
Christine looked down at herself, and realized that she was, in fact, naked. Odd that she hadn't noticed that before, but on the other hand, it felt completely normal. It was how Mike preferred her to be dressed when they were home alone, she realized. "Collar?"
"Yeah. I have always wanted a BDSM relationship, Total Power Exchange-style. I guess the Chronivac somehow made you my perfect little slave girl." Christine looked up at Mike. He had an evil grin on his face.
"But I'm your son! We can't..." Mike slapped her across her face. It wasn't hard, but it was unexpected, and Christine found herself starting to sob.
"No buts! I'm the boss around here. And, yes, intellectually I know that you're my son, but looking at you now I don't see my son, but my wife. For as long as you are like this, you're going to act your part. Understood?"
"Yes," Christine sobbed. She was scared, but also, she realized, turned on. This man in front of her, her husband, was right to act like he did. It was his privilege, and in a way, it felt comforting to know that he sat such strict boundaries for her. Chris tried to shake the feelings, this was not what she had wanted, but they were threatening to overpower him.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good girl. Now, I think you need to apologize for causing a scene..."
Christine wondered for a moment what Mike was planning, but the question was quickly answered...