The Alarm

...the loud beeping of the burglar alarm.

"Go get that!" she hissed. The baby-voice was gone - emerging from my daughter's mouth, I recognized my wife's 'business' tone.

"You've got...this?" I asked, gesturing at her chest. My cum was sliding down her long pink nipples, dripping onto the carpet.

"Yes!" she hissed again. "Just...don't let her come in here, okay? It reeks."

Mary was right. I hadn't even noticed before, but my office stank of sex. The strong scent of my seed had mixed with the smell of my daughter's pussy-juices, and virgin though she may have been (in mind, if no longer in body - either body), I'm sure Rose would have been suspicious of the resultant odor.

As quickly as I could, I returned my still-hard cock to my pants, fastened them, and walked into the hallway to find my wife's body staring at the house alarm panel, a confused look on her face.

"Oh!" Rose said as I approached. "You're home."

"Sorry about this." I said, flipping open the panel and disabling the alarm. "Must have forgotten to turn it back off again."

To my relief, my wife's eyes didn't hold even a trace of suspicion. As always, Mary was right - Rose didn't even question the idea that I'd somehow turn on the alarm and then slip into my office before triggering it.

Never before had I been so thankful for the low opinion the women in my life apparently had of me.

We stood in silence for a few moments. My heart was still racing at the idea of being caught - what we were doing was for Belle's sake, for the good of the family...but there was a zero percent chance I'd have been able to explain that to her if she'd walked in to find her body covered in her father's fresh seed.

My cock twitched at the memory. If a genie had appeared to offer one wish, I would have wished that I wasn't turned on by the image of my daughter, kneeling in front of me, her tits coated with my cum.

"Let's go out," I said abruptly.

"For real?"

I think I managed to mask my smile. My daughter's distinctive tone and language, emerging from my wife's mouth. I didn't think I'd ever get used to it.

Fortunately, I wouldn't have to. Six more days.

Six more days.

"Yeah," I said. "It's been a big week; I think we deserve it."

"Da...uh, Andrew. It's Monday."

God, was it only Monday?

"Well, when was the last time we went out?"

A look of confusion entered my wife's eyes

"It's been too long," I pressed on, before Rose felt obliged to actually answer my question. "Pick a spot, I'll take you there."

"The 556!"

"Sure thing, honeybee."

My daughter, unsurprisingly, was much worse at hiding her reactions than I. Pretending not to notice her grimace, I told her to go upstairs and get changed.

Once I was sure she was out of earshot, I made my way back to the office.

I genuinely don't know how she does it. If it wasn't for the smell, I would have sworn that our daughter's body had just gotten home from school and sat down on the couch in my office to relax. I mean, I knew she wasn't wearing a bra or panties, but the innocent way she was sitting, I would never have considered that as an option.

Then, once she saw it was just me, Mary licked our daughter's lips and winked at me.

I was immediately as hard as a rock.

"I'm taking her out to dinner," I said, and Rose's eyes lit up.

"Great idea!" she said, the sultry look gone in an instant. "Talk to her about her peers."

I tilted my head to the side.

"Her peers? You mean...the people at your work?"

"No, her peers. The kids in her class."

"Are you worried our daughter is being...peer pressured?"

Mary tossed her head to the side and gave me a perfect (though I suspect inadvertent) duplication of Rose's most withering teenage glance.

"Yes, Andrew. Tell her hugs, not ****. Perhaps in a rap, to make sure it really gets through to the youth of today."

"I just don't...-"

My wife interrupted me with a sigh, heaving my daughter's shoulders.

"We don't have time for this, honey. Our daughter doesn't have any friends, and I'm trying to work out why."

"Of course," I said.

There were many reasons I was uncomfortable doing sexual things with my daughter. I mean, they should be obvious, right? Even though I knew it was my wife in there...in the end, it was still my daughter's body.

The memories would never leave me. The knowledge that I'd been inside her, that she'd sucked my cock, that I'd cum on her tits...they'd **** me until my dying day.

But just as bad: now that I'd seen her naked, now that I'd looked at her in a sexual light...it was hard to turn off.

Without even meaning to, before I left the room, my eyes flicked down, and I glanced at Rose's tits.

I checked out my daughter.

There are many words that you can use to describe me, but I don't think that 'subtle' is one of them.

Mary noticed. She noticed me objectifying our daughter's body. She noticed me unconsciously looking at Rose's chest. What was going to happen when they switched back? If Rose noticed me checking her out, even once...god, I didn't even want to think of the psychological damage that could do.

My wife should have been furious. She should have scolded me, helped me train my instincts away from viewing my daughter as a piece of meat.

Instead, a sultry look appeared on her face, and she brazenly pushed her chest forward for me to have a better look.

"Where are you going for dinner?" she asked, her voice practically dripping with faux-innocence.

"The 556."

Rose's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh!"

"Oh?"

She grinned at the worried tone in my voice.

"Have fun with that," she said, and before I could inquire any further, ushered me out of the office. My head snapped around, but Belle was still upstairs, thank god. If she saw that her body was at home, she'd...well, I didn't know what she'd do. I didn't want to know.

"While you're out, I'm going to do some homework," she whispered.

"Good," I began, but my wife continued over me.

"...while your cum dries on my tits. Have a good time!"

I wasn't able to even get a 'goodbye' out before she slipped back through the door, closing it on my face.

What was at the 556?

I managed to mask my erection as I left the office (a skill I'd developed as a teen, and hadn't needed to use for many years). I tried to calm down as I waited at the bottom of the stairs for my daughter (in my wife's body) to finish preparing for our 'date'.

My mouth dropped open as Mary's body appeared.

Over the last week, Rose had been dressing her mother as she saw her choices in fashion. At the age of forty, Mary had long settled into what I considered quite a pleasant array of outfits, but - in her daughter's eyes - were apparently dull as ditchwater.

Yesterday, for example, Rose had worn a black dress that I hadn't seen Mary in since her uncle's funeral. It was stiff, staid, formal, and did absolutely nothing for her figure - something I'd been extremely grateful for.

I was already having enough trouble hiding my attraction to Mary in my daughter's body. The last thing I'd needed was to hide my attraction for my wife from Belle in Mary's body.

Even after eighteen years of marriage, I still consider Mary one of the most gorgeous creatures on the planet, but I knew that Belle must be finding the scenario stressful enough as it was. She didn't need her father's lustful eyes passing over her borrowed form.

And so I hadn't been prepared in the slightest for Rose to choose one of her mother's least conservative outfits. It was a red dress that she'd bought to wear to the beach, but shelved after realizing it was far too revealing.

Women's fashion is a strange thing. My wife has worn a bathing suit to the beach - she even has a bikini that sees regular rotation.

A bikini is fine, but a revealing dress is verboten.

And no, in case you were wondering, the dress is not more revealing than a bikini. It's just a sundress - spaghetti straps over each shoulder, a lace-up back, and a hem that ends about five inches above her knee.

It's certainly not offensive, or slutty - my wife just knows what's appropriate for her to wear as a pillar of the community and a mother, and decided this falls on the wrong side of that line.

Rose, it seemed, didn't agree.

"Wow," I said, furiously telling my cock to stay down. "That's..."

"Do you like it?" Rose asked, my wife's face lighting up. It made my heart melt a little - all my little girl wanted to do was make her mother's body look pretty. She was so innocent in so many ways.

And, thanks to me, no longer innocent in so many others.

I shooed the thought away and returned the smile.

"I love it," I said, leaning in and kissing her chastely on the lips. "You look phenomenal."

To my surprise, she didn't recoil from the kiss. Or perhaps she was just getting better at hiding it.

"Thanks," she said, doing a slight twirl. "You ready to go?"

"When you are, my queen."

For the first time since the swap, Rose didn't grimace at the pet name. Instead, she grinned, took my arm, and led me to the car.

As I drove to the 556, my mind was racing. What was Rose up to? Where had this sudden desire to change her mother's wardrobe come from?

After a week in Rose's teenage body, it almost felt like my wife had gone crazy. She had insisted that I take our daughter's virginity, that I cum on her face, on her tits...the sudden dose of hormones had hit her hard, sent her spiraling out of control, and made her do things that she never would have tolerated before.

Could a similar thing have happened to Rose?

My wife's hormones obviously weren't as powerful as our daughter's, but we had a very healthy sex-life. We weren't one of those TV couples, where the man desires and the woman denies - Mary's libido was just as active as mine. I had never particularly kept track of frequency, but Mary would drag me to bed as often as I would her.

If Mary had been overwhelmed by Rose's sexual urges, perhaps the same thing was happening in reverse. My stomach churned at the thought - my daughter, trapped in her mother's body. What if she decided to act on those urges?

No. No matter what, I knew that I couldn't do anything - not with my daughter. It may have been my wife's body, but inside was Rose. The real Rose.

Doing anything with her would mean that she'd remember it. She'd remember me.

The idea made me sick.

For the first time, I was sympathetic to my wife's point. Yes, Mary was in Rose's body, but it was still her. It was still my wife.

Conversely, while I'd made love to my wife's body too many times to count, the idea of doing anything while Rose was inside...it was completely out of the question.

No wonder Mary had struggled to understand my reticence. Her stance was suddenly making a lot more sense.

My wife had used her considerable debating talents to wear me down; I knew that my daughter wouldn't be able to do the same thing. It might be awkward to explain to her why I, her 'loving husband', didn't want to make love to her, but I knew I'd be able to do it.

And at worst, I'd flee. I'd flee the situation, and get to safer grounds.

Not that it would come to that.

"You excited for our date?" I asked, breaking the silence. Rose had been using her mother's eyes to stare out the window for the whole trip, distracted.

I dreaded to think of what thoughts were distracting her.

"Mmm-hmm," she said distantly.

"I really, uh, love you," I said, trying to gauge where she was at.

"Love you too," she replied dismissively.

"I think I'll get the crocodile for dinner," I replied.

"That sounds lovely," Belle responded.

Okay, definitely not listening. I wasn't sure whether or not that was a good sign.

"We're here," I said, and Rose turned to shoot me a smile. My daughter's smile on my wife's face looked completely natural, and I found myself smiling back.

Not my wife, I had to remind myself. It's Rose in there. My daughter.

Mary's actions over the last few days had left me so confused and worked up - even though I'd cum onto my daughter's face and tits just a few hours ago, it felt like my body was still humming with sexual energy. I had to make sure not to release any of that energy in the direction of Mary's body.

I could do this. I knew I could.

Opening the door to the diner, I was simultaneously overwhelmed with terror and relief. In an instant, it became clear to me- my daughter hadn't dressed this way for me. All my head-spinning had been for nothing.

Sitting inside the 556, his arm around a girl I presumed was Lacey, sat Spike.

And my wife's eyes were boring into him like a laser-focused drill.

Mary had been right. This was going to be interesting.

As I steered my wife to a table by the window, I tried to simultaneously keep an eye on Spike, watch Mary's face, and act as though everything was normal.

Which, in a sense, it was. I was just out for dinner with my wife. The fact that our daughter's ex-boyfriend was here was of no consequence.

At least, that's what I tried to tell myself.

Rose, for her part, did a terrible job of acting nonchalant. I guided her by the arm (preventing her from knocking an entire family's meals onto the floor) and pretended everything was normal. When we sat, she made sure to position herself so she could see Spike and his new tart.

I did my best to make conversation throughout dinner, but it was obvious that her attention was barely on me. More than once, I caught her absentmindedly shaking salt into her coca cola. And once we'd finished one of the most delicious meals I'd ever had at the 556, she did her best to avoid leaving.

"I want dessert," she demanded. I tried to hide my smile at the teenage whine that had crept into her voice.

"A...second dessert?" I said, pointing at the remains of the crème brûlée sitting in front of her. She blinked twice, as if seeing it for the first time.

"How about coffee?" she smiled, trying to turn on the charm. But charm is a learned skill - one that my wife had mastered, and my daughter had not.

"You know you can't drink coffee at this hour," I said. "You'll never sleep again."

"Well..."

I could practically hear her mind ticking.

"Why don't we just sit and chat for a while? You said it yourself; we never go out like this."

I sighed, feigning frustration. "Mary, you've barely said two words to me all night."

A thoughtful look crossed my wife's face, as my daughter processed what I was saying. After a moment, she nodded.

"You're right," she said. "I'm sorry."

Reaching out and grabbing my hand, she looked directly into my eyes.

"What do you want to talk about?"

The sudden attention took me by surprise, and I said the first thing that came to my head.

"P...peers."

"Peers?"

"Yes," I said, trying to recover. "Rose's peers. I'm worried that she doesn't have any friends."

A hint of sadness flickered across Mary's face, but my daughter quickly did what she could to quash it.

"I'm sure she has plenty of friends."

"Mmm," I replied nonchalantly. "...does she?"

To my surprise, I spent the next twenty minutes having a real, honest conversation with my daughter about her social situation. It was all in the third person, of course - always 'our daughter', never 'you', but I learned a lot. She reiterated a few things we'd already discussed - her loneliness, the isolation she'd been feeling. She'd only really connected with two people at her school:

Spike, and his new girlfriend Lacey.

"Of course," I said, crossing my fingers under the table. "That Spank kid was only interested in her for sex."

"Spike," my daughter corrected, before wrinkling Mary's nose. "And...do you think so?"

"Of course. I bet that when she wouldn't put out, he immediately left her for someone who would."

My wife's head nodded as my daughter chewed on what I'd just said. For the first time in almost half an hour, I caught her looking over to the snide-looking teenager.

This time, her expression was different. Thoughtful. Determined.

"Let's go," she said abruptly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod. I left cash on the table and followed my wife as she marched out of the restaurant, not giving Spike or Lacey another glance.

"I think it helped," I finished with a shrug.

As soon as we'd gotten home, Rose had claimed exhaustion, and taken my wife's body straight to the couch.