The car turned onto a quiet street. I leaned back in my seat, trying to appear relaxed while my mind raced with possibilities and consequences.
I was just a boy. I didn’t know the first thing about being a wife. A mother.
Peter pulled into the driveway of their cozy suburban home, and my stomach dropped. This was not my home. This was Marion’s home. And I had no idea how to act or what to do.
“Come on, Marion,” Peter said, giving me a playful nudge as he got out of the car, “Let’s get our little man inside.”
I nodded, trying to keep up with the façade that everything was normal.
We stepped into a warm and inviting foyer, decorated with family photos and a cozy rug under our feet. I took off Marion’s shoes and followed Peter into the dark hallway.
Aiden went to bed in his room, leaving me alone with Peter. He turned to me with that familiar gleam in his eyes, the kind that made my skin crawl.
“Want to watch a movie before bed?” he suggested, leaning casually against the doorframe.
I forced a smile, my mind racing. “Uh, sure, that sounds nice.”
The idea of being alone with him made my heart pound wildly in my chest. I had to play my part, to navigate this evening without giving away the fact that I was actually a tween boy in a grown woman’s body.
Peter led me into the living room where the soft glow of the TV flickered against the walls. He plopped down on the couch, stretching his arms behind his head as I took a seat at the opposite end. The air felt thick with an awkward tension as I tried to keep my body language relaxed, mirroring what I had seen Marion do countless times.
“What do you want to watch?” he asked, scrolling through the streaming options.
“Oh, um,” I fumbled with my words, “How about something light? A comedy?”
“How about a rom-com?” he called over his shoulder, glancing back at me with that glimmer in his eye.
“Sure, a rom-com works,” I replied, keeping my tone casual even as my stomach churned. The thought of sitting here in Marion's body—playing the doting wife to her flirtatious husband—was unnerving. What if he tried something? What if I didn’t know how to handle it?
He settled on a movie and pressed play, the opening credits rolling across the screen. I clenched my fists in my lap, the rhythm of the music echoing my building anxiety. Glancing over at Peter, I tried to gauge his demeanor. He seemed relaxed, chuckling at some silly scene on the screen.
As the movie played, Peter stretched his arm along the back of the couch, inching closer to me.
“Isn’t this the cutest?” he said, his gaze glued to the screen, but I could sense the intention behind his words.
My skin prickled as he leaned closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around me, mingling with Marion’s floral perfume.
“Yeah, totally cute,” I replied, forcing a laugh that felt foreign and strained.
He chuckled at a scene where the couple shared an awkward first kiss, and I tried to concentrate on the flickering images on the screen rather than on Peter’s lingering gaze. But I could feel it—like an electric current pulsing between us—until he finally turned towards me.
“Marion,” he said softly, “You really do look stunning tonight.”
My heart raced as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“Thanks, Peter,” I replied cautiously, looking anywhere but at him.
I froze in shock as Peter’s hand rested on my chest, his fingers gently squeezing and kneading. My mind raced as I tried to process the situation. This was Marion’s body, my mom’s friend, and here I was sitting on her couch while her husband touched her in a way that made me incredibly uncomfortable.
I had never thought of Marion in a sexual way. And I especially hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about her boobs. But now, with Peter’s touch, I couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of them. I had never experienced intimacy with another person before, having only recently hit puberty.
It was utterly foreign and confusing. I wanted to slap his hand away, to scream that I wasn’t Marion. But instead, I found myself frozen in place, staring at the screen.
I felt sick to my stomach as Peter’s hand continued to roam over Marion’s body, his touch sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't believe this was happening.
But I decided it would be much worse if Peter found out that he was groping his son’s friend, Jacob, in his wife’s body.
“Peter,” I said, my voice trembling slightly, “I don’t think...”
But before I could finish my sentence, Peter leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. His hand tightened around me, holding me in place. The kiss was clumsy, filled with an urgency that felt wrong on so many levels. Panic surged through me as I realized I had to get out of this situation before it spiraled entirely out of control.
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