Date Night with Lucy

CW: Mind control, impregnation

--

"It's looking good," I said.

My husband Andy smiled up from the nursery floor, where he'd just finished adding new baseboards to accent the newly sanded and varnished floor. A flat-packed crib and dresser waited in the next room, along with some pastel curtains.

"Thanks," he said.

"Now all we need is the baby, right?"

He sighed. "I forgot to pick that up at Ikea."

I grinned at him. "I think we have the materials."

He scoffed theatrically. "Yeah, if we want one designed by a couple of amateurs."

"I think there's a folksy charm to a homemade baby," I insisted.

He grinned. "I suppose," he allowed. "But let's finish the nursery first, okay? I..." he hesitated a moment. "I want everything to be ready first."

My eagerness for him to knock me up was a palpable force at this point. We'd been talking about it for years, and fantasizing about it for at least as long. Our plan was to get the nursery ready and then start trying, but waiting was desperately hard.

"You know what would help me wait?" I asked.

"What's that?" he asked.

"If I borrowed a girl for you to knock up," I said.

I guess this sounds weird if you don't know me. I have an ability that lets me borrow other people's bodies. First I make a link by touching them, and then I can put their mind to sleep and slip into their body.

Up until the past year I had only used my powers for good, by stealing money from billionaires. But last summer a buff girl named Julia had run into me while she was out running, and hurt my back right before date night. So, for my date with Andy, I'd borrowed her body.

It had been a thrill for both of us - I'd loved finding out what got Julia off, and enjoyed fucking Andy in a body that was taller and stronger than his; Andy had enjoyed getting closer to me while I was in a new body and had gladly filled Julia's fertile womb with his seed. A few months later we'd done the same thing to a rich girl named Keiko who had stolen my wallet for fun, and that had been a rush, too. But it had been months ago.

"Well, do you know of any?" Andy asked. "Most of the girls I've run into recently have been perfectly kind."

"Most?" I asked.

Andy sighed, but he grinned as he did it. He didn't want me to borrow a girl unless she'd done something to provoke us, and I intended to keep to that rule.

"I don't know of any girl you should borrow," he said.

"Okay," I said. I draped myself across his back, placing my hands on his arms and taking care to press my boobs against him. "I'll be patient."

"Your restraint is an example to me."

I kissed his neck. "Thanks, Andy. Maybe when I get back from the bank we can practice for our actual babymaking?"

"You're on," he said.

--

I stomped the snow off of my boots as I stepped into the bank. One of the billionaires who unknowingly funded us sent paper checks, so I came by about once a month. I poured myself a cup of their complimentary coffee, which was just okay in quality but which was delightfully hot, and was about to step into the short line when a woman rushed past me.

I wasn't in a hurry, so I joined the line behind her. She was a few inches taller than me - about Andy's height - with vibrant red hair. She'd taken off her coat, and her black t-shirt revealed a half-dozen colorful tattoos running down her arms. As we waited for the one teller, the redhead tapped her tennis shoe against the tile, generating little sound but making her frustration clear.

The person in front of us finished and stepped away, and the redhead stepped up to the counter.

"How can I help-"

"You've fucked my direct deposit again," she cut in.

"I-I'm sorry to hear that," the teller said, keeping his customer-service face. "Can you give me your account information and I'll look you up?"

"Here," the redhead said, tossing her debit card onto the counter.

I had two views of her. On the one hand, she was being an absolute shit to the teller, who almost certainly had nothing to do with whatever mistake the bank had made. On the other hand, she was achingly hot. She had a slight Scottish accent, her voice sounding lovely even when she had nothing kind to say. Her t-shirt and her jeans were tight, and I could see the contours of her shapely bosom and the line of her hip.

Under any other circumstances, I would have stood awkwardly silent and then told the teller I was sorry once the redhead had gone. I'm well-practiced at being awkward, after all, and on any other day I would have been afraid she'd say something mean to me. That day, though, I welcomed it.

"It's not his fault," I said softly.

"What?" the redhead said, glancing over her shoulder at me. She had light green eyes, and I wondered what the world looked like through them.

"The teller's not the one who borked your deposit," I said.

She hesitated a moment, as if trying to decide whether to explain the whole story to me, then shook her head.

"Keep yer teeth together," she said, then turned back to the teller.

I grinned. This was a pretty clear provocation, and I was sure that Andy would agree if he was here. I took a pen from my pocket and bent down as if picking it up.

"I think you dropped your pen," I said, and handed it to her. As my fingers brushed hers, I made the psychic link that would let me borrow her. She tensed up, narrowing her eyes and baring her teeth, and for a moment I thought she'd hit me.

The moment passed, though. She took the pen without a word, and turned back to the teller. I smiled, and pulled my phone out.

Do you trust me? I texted to Andy.

Of course, he said.

Then we'll have a special guest for date night this Friday, I wrote. Make dinner?

There was a pause, then he wrote back. Sounds good.

--

I winced at the rush of sensations as I borrowed her body that Friday. I felt a flash of anger from her, before her mind drifted into unconsciousness, and then I was her.

She'd been sitting in an art studio, a finished painting on the easel in front of her. It was a fantastic mountainscape, with a rustic hunting lodge nestled next to a dragon's skull. I wondered, for a moment, how someone with such a beautiful imagination could be such a shit to their bank teller, but I supposed that you could be a good artist and still be a bit of an asshole. Hopefully, when all this was done, she'd be a bit nicer.

I checked her wallet. Her name was Lucy. She was twenty-nine, and her blood type was O negative, and she had a motorcycle license. I hoped she had a car; a baby seat wouldn't fit on the back of a motorcycle.

I spent a minute looking at the tattoos running down her arms. Most of them stuck to a fantasy theme - a dragon wound around her right bicep, an orcish crest decorated her left shoulder, and a treasure map ran down her left forearm - but there were a few daisies scattered throughout. I was tempted to strip and see where else she had tattoos, but I decided it would be more fun for Andy and I to find them together.

I set her phone down and stepped out, grabbing the set of keys hanging near the door as I went. She did have a car after all, and after wandering the parking lot spamming the unlock button I found it. Ten minutes later, I parked on the street and walked up to my front door.

Andy opened the door. He was expecting me, but there was still a bit of hesitation in his movements; he'd never seen me in this body before.

"Melissa?" he asked.

"Tonight, my name is Lucy," I said.

He nodded. "So why did Melissa send you, then?"

I sighed, a bit theatrically. "I was rude to her and the teller at the bank. So she said I had to come here, and do whatever you asked for date night."

"Whatever I asked, huh?" he said with a grin.

"Don't make it weird," I huffed. "She said you'd make dinner, too."

He nodded. "I made risotto and fried eggs. Why don't you come on in?"

I stepped inside and followed him to the dining room.

--

Dinner was lovely. Andy told me about his workday, and I broke character once or twice as I responded. He didn't seem to mind. I told him a bit about Lucy's artwork, just from what I'd gathered, and he listened intently.

"That sounds really cool," he said. "Maybe Melissa and I should commission one."

"That would be nice," I said.

"So did you design your tattoos?"

I nodded. Lucy had the sketches for some of her tattoos on her walls, so I figured she'd done the design work.

"Can you show them to me?"

I hesitated out of a desire to stay in character. It wasn't easy; Andy's interest was obvious. "I...guess I could show you."

"Wonderful," he said.

I grabbed my t-shirt and pulled it up and off. I set it aside and spread my arms, letting him see the full array of tattoos that covered Lucy's arms and shoulders. I hadn't borrowed a body with this many tattoos before, and it felt alien in a way that none of the other bodies had.

Andy's gaze brought me back, though. I could detect his prurient interest in Lisa's body, and his artistic appreciation for her tattoos, but beneath all of that I could see his grin as he played a game with me. He knew who I was, and so I did too.

"I love the colors," he said. He reached out and traced a finger along the green and blue of the dragon's tail until it vanished behind Lisa's black sports bra. "And I love the dimensionality, too. It really uses the whole space."

"Thanks," I said.

"Can I see the rest of it?" he asked.

"What?" I asked. I don't think I was terribly good at feigning outrage, but Andy smiled like he was enjoying the game anyway, so I kept going. "You mean, take my bra off?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'd really like to see."

"My tattoos or my tits?" I huffed.

"Well, both," he admitted.

I shook my head. "What would your wife think of you asking me that?"

He smiled, not smirking but honestly joyous. "My wife wants me to be happy," he said. "That's why she told you to do whatever I asked."

I bit my lip, because it let me pretend to be hesitant and conceal my smile. Then, slowly, I reached down and pulled my sports bra off.

I took a moment to enjoy Andy's expression as he caught his first glimpse of Lucy's bare chest, then looked down myself. A couple of Lucy's tattoos did extend into territory that had been covered by her bra - the dragon's tail extended onto her shoulder, and she had a cute little octopus right down the middle of her cleavage. But what struck me was the canvas - she had a thousand freckles across her shoulders, across her belly, along the tops of her breasts. If I looked carefully, I could see where they'd been included in the tattoos, or where they'd appeared later. Her body was a work of art, one that she was still creating.

"Wow," Andy said. He reached a hand out, running two fingers along a tattooed dagger that ran down my side. I gasped, and he grinned.

"Do you like that?"

Before I could answer, he raised his other hand, letting them both glide up and down my sides. His touch was soft, yet Lucy's body seemed desperate to let me feel every detail of it. His fingers traced paths from my hips, up my sides, and onto the edges of my breasts. I moaned as I felt him discover my curves, drawing close to my light pink nipples before veering off. I didn't know how he'd managed to get all of these tattoos if her skin was this sensitive.

"You shouldn't be doing this," I gasped.

"Maybe not," he admitted. "But you make such beautiful faces."

He moved one hand up, cupping my left breast. I panted, my chest moving against his hand. I wondered if Lucy's nipples were as sensitive as the rest of her skin. If so, I was going to be helpless as soon as he touched me.

He lowered one hand instead, sliding it along the small of my back and resting it just above my waist.

"I bet you have tattoos on your legs, too," he said softly.

"I...I do, but..."

"No buts," he said. He paused. "Well, one butt," he amended. "Show me."

I reached down and unbuttoned Lucy's pants. With a glance up at Andy, I pulled the zipper down. I hooked my thumbs through my panties, then pulled them down along with my pants, pausing to kick off my shoes. I stood, and let Andy see every bit of Lucy's body.

He was enraptured, and I could understand why. Lucy did indeed have tattoos on her legs - a seascape on her left shin and a set of constellations that ran all the way up her right leg. Her ass was lovely - beautifully curvy and more generous than mine by a bit. Her bush was just as red as her hair, and I kept my legs together to preserve just a bit of mystery.

"What a work of art," Andy said softly.

He reached a hand out, caressing the constellations on my thigh before resting his hand on my hip.

"Now you've seen," I said. "So-"

He stepped closer, his hands moving around to caress my backside, and my train of thought derailed. He spread his fingers, one hand cupping each side, and we gasped in pleasure together.

"You know," he said, glancing at my leg, "sailors used to use constellations to navigate."

I tried to catch my breath. "And where do you think you're going, sailor?" I asked.

He smiled. "Around the cape of good hope, to start," he said. He moved behind me, one hand gliding across my ass while the other moved up to rest on my hip. I gasped and leaned into him. I wondered for a moment if Lucy had any tattoos on her back, but I figured that was a secret for Andy to know.

His hand crept forward, gliding across my belly and just touching the top of my bush. "Maybe I'll sail south of Tasmania, too."

I forgot to breathe for a moment as I felt his fingers winding their way down towards my pussy, his horn of Africa pressing against my ass through his jeans. He reached my lips, his middle finger just touching my cleft, and I felt the first stirrings of my wetness coating his fingertip.

I wondered for a moment what Lucy would think, if she could see what I was doing with her body. Her pussy might be happy for the attention, but I suspected she'd be showing us just how fiery she was, cursing at us and trying to struggle free. The question was academic, though -- she'd never remember any of this.

"Oh, you naughty girl," Andy said softly as his fingers ran down my cleft. I could feel Lucy's body responding swiftly, and I knew he could feel it too. "You need this, don't you?"

I wanted to be witty and banter with him, but it was difficult to string words together. Andy's fingers circled my clit and meandered along my cleft, and I pushed myself back against him in the hope that he'd go further.

He didn't seem to be in a rush, though. He set his left hand on my hip to keep me where he wanted me, and let his right hand explore. His fingers slid along my lips, teasing me until I whimpered with need.

"Is this why you were a bitch to your bank teller?" he said softly, his fingers moving almost as fast as I wanted. "Because you just really needed someone to touch you?"

"I am perfectly capable of touching myself," I gasped. I reached back, placing a hand on his. "I-"

He slid a single finger inside me, and any other words I might have had were derailed again. He slid it out, then back in, his hand pressing against my bush.

"You've done all of this beautiful art by yourself," he said, stroking my hip with his thumb as he rubbed me, "but sometimes you need to collaborate with someone, don't you?"

I tried to make an outraged sound, but it came out as an aggressive moan.

"Oh, yes," he said. "You make such beautiful sounds when I rub you like this."

I pushed Lucy's body back against him, the sensation of his clothed hips against my bare ass casting the touch of his hand into high relief. He adjusted his hand, two fingers sliding inside me as his thumb pressed against my pubic bone. It was exquisite - everything I felt through Lucy's nervous system was in high definition. Lucy's body wanted his touch to be firmer than it was normally, but Andy was picking up on that as I ground myself against him.

"Fuck," I murmured. Andy's fingers moved effortlessly into my wet pussy, sliding deep as he listened to me moaning for him. Lucy was a quick start; Andy's fingers were coated in her wetness and I could feel a climax already starting to build. I didn't know how she managed to be mean to the bank teller, instead of asking if he was single and if he'd be willing to make a deposit in her private vault. Maybe she just jilled off a lot.

I found myself rising and falling with him, pushing myself down on his fingers as they rose and rubbing myself against his hips as he drew back. He kissed my neck, even as his pace rose to keep up with my need. I wanted to let go, to let him steer and get me off, but I couldn't cede control, and I wasn't sure if he wanted me to. I was squirming in his arms, desperate for the pleasure he was giving me and desperate for more. The gap between what I wanted and what I was getting was the most beautiful sort of agony, and I think he knew it.

"You're beautiful," he said softly at my ear.

"I don't think this was what your wife had in mind," I gasped, dragging myself back to the role I'd been playing. I didn't know if it would last, but I wanted to provoke him, even if it was only a fraction of what he was doing to me.

"Oh, it is," he said. "My wife said, 'make sure Lucy cums on your fingers like a little slut.'"

"No," I moaned. "I'm...I'm not-"

He leaned against me. I could feel his smile, even if I couldn't see it. I could feel his cock pressing against me through his pants. I could feel him, feel his joy at my pleasure and at the game we were playing. I could pretend to fight that, but in the end I couldn't resist his happiness, especially when it meshed so beautifully with my own. I moaned, half in pleasure and half in surprise, as I fell apart.

The pleasure was warm and sharp and insistent. I grabbed Andy's hand, preventing it from sliding out as I felt my pussy contract and squeeze his fingers. He didn't fight me, and kept his hand close as he felt me move around him. He held me tightly with his other hand, keeping me from falling, grounding me as the storm broke inside me. No matter who I was or what we did, I realized, he'd be there for me. I think I moaned his name, as the pleasure crested and started to recede, but I can't say for certain.

"Sorry," he said as I gasped for breath. "Were you saying that you're not a little slut?"

"No," I moaned.

"How are you not?" he asked, bemusement in his tone.

"Because I'm five foot nine," I said.

He laughed, raucously, and I felt a different sort of warmth fill me as I listened. I glanced over my shoulder at him, still trying to look defiant even though I knew he could see the amusement in my eyes.

"I guess you are," he said, and moved to kiss me.

I can do a lot of things in character, but when I kiss Andy it always feels like us. I think it's because we can't talk, and so we've grown used to communicating through our motions. I could feel his amusement at our games, his lust for Lucy's body, his love for me. I knew he could feel my desire, too, and my desperate hope that he wouldn't make me wait any longer.

Andy drew back from the kiss and held me, leaning against my shoulder. "You know," he said softly, "my wife told me to do more than just make you cum."

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Do you do everything your wife asks?"

"Sooner or later," he said. "But especially when she asks me to fuck the cute redhead she's sending home."

"No," I moaned. "You can't. I don't know you."

He let go for a moment and slipped his shirt off. I put my hand in his chest, as if I was trying to hold him back.

"I think you know me," he said softly, as he unzipped his pants. "And I think you know what I want."

He let his pants fall to the ground. He was already hard, from getting me off or from pressing himself against Lucy's ass, and his cock pointed eagerly towards me.