Performance anxiety

Chapter 12: Private Performance

I couldn’t take it anymore. Sitting there in Danielle’s cum-stained, barely-covered body, staring at my wife’s face being worn by that monster, I finally snapped.

“Where the fuck is Kellie?” I demanded, voice husky and feminine. “The real one. What did you do with her?”

Carlos smiled with Kellie’s perfect lips, still lazily stroking one of her exposed tits. He took another slow puff from the cigar before answering.

“Oh, your precious wife? She’s perfectly safe… in my old body, down in the holding cell with the rest of the trash. Gagged, cuffed, and probably still screaming about her stolen pussy. Don’t worry — I’ll let her out eventually. Maybe.”

He snapped his fingers at the big officer. “Bring the other one in. The loud one in the male body. And make sure she’s gagged and… motivated.”

A few minutes later, Danielle — still trapped in my male body — was dragged in, hands cuffed behind her back, a thick ball gag strapped in her mouth. Her eyes were wild with rage. They **** her into a chair in the corner and immediately started ****-feeding her pills — Viagra, from the look of it. I watched her cock (my old cock) start to strain painfully against the pants within minutes as she thrashed and glared daggers at all of us.

Carlos (in Kellie’s body) leaned back in the chair and spread her legs wider, the micro skirt riding all the way up. The prostitute in Terry’s body was still happily licking between them.

“Now,” Carlos purred in my wife’s sultry voice, “I want some entertainment. Anthony, in that gorgeous slutty body… dance for me. Strip. Slowly. Show me how much you appreciate your wife’s new owner.”

I hesitated, but the big officer behind me cracked his knuckles. I had ****.

I stood up on shaky heels, heart pounding. Danielle’s body moved naturally — hips swaying, heavy tits bouncing as I started to dance. I peeled the torn orange top off slowly, letting my massive breasts spill free. My nipples were rock hard. I turned, bending over and shaking my ass, the tiny shorts riding up between my cheeks.

Carlos moaned softly in Kellie’s voice, one hand playing with her clit while watching me. “That’s it, baby. Look at those tits bounce. Your sister-in-law’s body was made for this.”

In the corner, Danielle (in my body) was rock hard, cock throbbing visibly in the pants, eyes furious but unable to look away. The Viagra had her painfully erect as she watched her own body stripping and dancing like a whore.

I was ashamed… but also weirdly, shamefully turned on.

This was my wife’s body watching me. Kellie’s face, Kellie’s eyes, Kellie’s perfect tits and pussy… but controlled by Carlos. The twisted lesbian fantasy of dancing and performing for my own wife — even like this — made Danielle’s pussy throb and drip down my thighs again.

I slid the tiny shorts down my legs, stepping out of them completely naked except for the heels. I danced closer to the desk, cupping my heavy tits and pinching my nipples, letting out soft, breathy moans in Danielle’s husky voice.

“Fuck… this is so wrong,” I whispered, but my hips kept rolling, pussy aching as I moved.

Carlos grinned with Kellie’s mouth, spreading her legs wider. “Come here, beautiful. Bring that wet cunt over here. Your wife’s body wants a taste.”

In the corner, Danielle screamed muffled curses around the gag, cock straining desperately against her pants as she was **** to watch her own body being used for this perverted show.

I stepped closer, trembling with a mix of horror, guilt, and unwanted arousal at the idea of lesbian sex with my wife’s stolen body while trapped in her slutty sister-in-law’s skin.

The nightmare was getting hotter… and far more dangerous.

To be continued in Chapter 13…