As our daughter’s body stomped upstairs, Belle turned to me, a quizzical look on my wife’s face.
My heart skipped a beat—Mary had done a pretty god job of imitating our daughter’s attitude so far, but I felt obeying my order so quickly had been a pretty major slip.
“Do you think she’s going to be okay?” she asked, and I tried to mask my relief.
She wasn’t suspicious. She was concerned.
“All we can do is try,” I said, and she nodded in response.
There was a brief pause, and I decided to take the opportunity—one of the last I’d have for a long while—to probe a little further.
“I wish I knew how to reach her,” I said softly. Again, my wife’s head nodded. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Oh!” she said, surprised and then thoughtful. “I mean…”
“I think,” Belle said reflectively, “she might have low self-esteem.”
“Uh huh,” I encouraged. “That would explain why she was seeing that Splat kid for so long.”
“Spike,” she gently corrected, lost in her own thoughts.
Belle’s low self-esteem was obvious to everyone except her…so, of course, it made sense that she’d only seen it from the outside.
I stayed silent in the hope that additional insight was coming, but that was the moment Mary chose to stomp back downstairs. She was wearing a hilariously inappropriate outfit for the weather—a thick sweater and sweatpants.
“Better?” she snarled. I managed to hide my grin, while Belle raised one of her mother’s eyebrows in response.
“If you’re happy…” she said, and Mary just rolled our daughter’s eyes in response.
The two girls left, and my workday passed mostly uneventfully. By the time I heard the front door open, I’d mostly caught up on the work that I’d missed—my growling stomach reminding me that I’d accidentally worked through lunch to do so.
I sighed. The tone of my daughter’s voice told me exactly what kind of a mood Mary was in, and it wasn’t one that would allow me to have a meal.
“In here,” I called out in response. There was no doubt in my mind that within ten minutes, I’d be balls-deep in my daughter…and rather than feel horrified by the idea, I was mostly annoyed that it meant I wouldn’t have time to grab a snack.
So very much can change in a week.
I almost did a double take when Belle’s body entered my study. Despite the fact that I’d seen her leave in a ridiculous winter outfit, she was standing in front of me in the exact outfit that her daughter (in Mary’s body) had vetoed that morning.
“Do you like it?” she grinned, doing a spin. As she did, the miniskirt lifted, confirming what I’d suspected that morning—my daughter was not wearing panties.
“Uh…” I said again in response. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and all my blood had immediately rushed to my dick at the sight of my daughter’s outfit, so my brain was not firing on all cylinders.
“I thought you would,” she said, that hungry look returning to her eyes.
“Weren’t you wearing…—“
“Uh huh,” she beamed. “But underneath I was wearing this.”
I moved one hand to my temple.
“Call me Belle,” she moaned. “Call me your little girl.”
“Mary,” I repeated insistently. “You can’t…dressing like that is going to ruin our daughter’s reputation. You’re meant to be helping her, not destroying her life.”
My wife sighed.
“Andrew,” she said, losing the little girl voice. “I’m not destroying her life, for one. Half the kids in her school dress like this on casual Friday.”
I raised my eyebrows in response, suddenly very glad that I didn’t work in a school.
Before the week had started, I’d never felt like a dirty old man.
“Secondly, it’s not like it’s out of character. We’ve been having these fights about appropriate dress for years now, remember?”
“Well, yes,” I admitted. “But you…surely…”
“And thirdly,” she continued, ignoring my stammering response. “I knew this was my last chance.”
“Last chance to what?” I asked, although I was fairly sure I knew the answer.
“The last chance to show our daughter off,” she purred, moving towards me as I did. “The last chance to drive you wild, knowing that everyone at school—everyone who saw me—would want me.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.
“I spent the entire day putting our daughter’s body on display,” she said, sinking to her knees in front of my chair. “Everyone in every room I entered…their eyes were on me. Every time I raised my hand, I reduced the teacher to a stammering mess.”
“Mary…” I groaned, as she fished my cock out of my pants. It was, unsurprisingly, hard as a rod. I had no idea if she was telling the truth or just trying to work me up, but...well, either way, it was working.
“Call me Belle,” she softly groaned. “Call me your little girl.”
“I’ve spent the last six and a half hours dripping wet,” she said, biting her lip provocatively. “I’ve spent my day in a haze, imagining this…”
She squeezed my cock as she spoke, and I left out a soft gasp as she did.
“I spent the entire day making every man want me. Every teacher, every student. All of them, staring at me lustfully, wanting to lift up this skirt and fuck me. I bet all of them have gone home to beat off, thinking about this body. Everyone who saw me today is probably jerking off, imagining our daughter.”
“No…” I protested. She was probably right, but I didn’t want to think about it.
“But only one man gets me,” she said in a low hiss. “Only one man gets to fuck his little girl.”
“Daddy,” she moaned in response. “Fuck me. Do what every other man only wishes he got to do. Fuck your little Belle-drop.
“Fuck our daughter. Please…”