Out Of Options, Out Of Line

The sequel to Out of Body, Out of Mind.

This one has been ruminating for a while, as I wanted to do these characters justice - knowing where to take this story next was a challenge of not just building on what was already there, but knowing when not to build too high. A large part of what made the first outing for Phoebe and Martin enjoyable was the fact it was minimal on the sci-fi nonsense that has a habit of dominating this genre, and while this entry does dip into the realm of sci-fi when it needs to, I've made sure to keep the focus of the writing with the characters. That's what we care about, and that's what I, as a writer, want to explore.

Hope you enjoy,

Love, Danni x

All characters are, of course, above 18 years old.

CW; questionable consent; mind control; gender play; body swap;

~ 1 ~

Without trying to sound overly self-aggrandising, things were going well.

*

As Alex fucked me - Zara - us - in their bed, the sheets a mess and the frame bouncing into the wall, I allowed myself to just enjoy it. To enjoy the feeling of his pelvis colliding with my - her - bubble butt, both of us on our sides, with Alex' hand gripping my pert tit in one hand, his other around my throat. My leg was up, and when I had the chance to look down I was gifted with the delicious image of his thick member splitting Zara's tight pussy in half.

We moaned, the three of us, even if one of us wasn't totally welcome.

'Daddy, yes,' we moaned, the lewd words driving us both closer to the edge - I could feel Zara alongside me, each thrust hitting her g-spot, making us slam back into her lover as he squeezed her neck.

He was an animal. A brutish, beautiful animal, and his need to fill Zara's slit with cum each morning was threatening to drive me insane.

'Shit,' he moaned, shifting in the bed.

Me and Zara yelped, as our shared body was rolled from the side and onto our front. Her tits pressed into the mattress as Alex kept going, not missing a beat, fucking us into the bed with our moans lost into the pillows.

'Daddy! Fuck yes! Make me CUM!'

Zara's vocal fry made her porn-star quality, especially when I used her throat to voice my sluttier impulses.

I gripped the bedding, a delightful fold of blanket stroking Zara's clit with each up-stroke, as our moans crescendoed in a joint wail. I pushed back, feeling Alex's manhood press deep into Zara' cunt, his hot cum spraying into her as it did each morning. How she wasn't pregnant by now was a mystery to me, but I wasn't much complaining. The longer this fantasy remained a reality, the better.

The orgasm swam through Zara's muscles, and I swam inside of her endorphins - the warm glow spreading through her as her body hummed in pleasure. Lights sparked behind her eyes, as we swayed her truly fuckable backside, grinding against Alex's pelvis.

With a heave, and a sigh, Alex dropped onto the bed beside us, as the orgasm faded, and I retreated from Zara with a glow of my own.

*

Martin was still asleep, and the clock read 06:37. The afterglow of orgasmic endorphins almost seemed to lift me up and out of bed, and while my body hadn't been given the precious kiss of cumming, my mind had. By now, I knew from experience that 'edging' my body by not actually cumming in it would make the eventual orgasm more intense - so much so that it had almost become a running joke between Martin and me how long I could keep it going without orgasming inside my own body. The downside, of course, was that the longer I went cumming multiple times a day - be it as Alex, Zara, Martin, or even Neil (when I bothered to go into work, which wasn't as often any more) - the more horny I was, which was multiplied by how little stimulation this body had been given.

Edging without edging. It was magical. My record was two weeks, after which I had cracked and just about jumped Martin before bed. The memory of that night, even now, made my thighs squirm together, the warm slick of my sex humming with resdiual, ghost-pleasure.

I made coffee, knowing that it was best to let Martin sleep. He had been working just about non-stop for the last month or so, and while it had been a good six months since, you know, everything, I still felt a pang of guilt for everything that happened. I mean, sure, he was the one who injected me with the mind-altering chemical, but he wasn't in charge of that project. He wasn't really to blame.

Me? I'd thrown his life upside down. Because of me, and my... developed abilities, he had lost his private job, which meant he lost his funding, and his reputation. It was a slippery slope and, while I didn't mean to, he tripped over me and fell down it.

All in all, neither of us blamed the other, but I think we both had the weight of responsibility on our shoulders.

I took him in - which was the least I could do. My 'powers' - god, it felt strange to call them that - allowed me to quite easily get a raise at work, which made my life a lot easier. Neil, my blubbery boss, was happy to accept an under-the-desk worshipping now and again, and so long as I was sharing his mind every so often, his pleasure blended with mine.

In all honesty, I kind of loved it.

Call it kinky-at-best, or flat-out disturbed, but allowing myself to be used, to be a willing cock-sleeve for my would-be-rapist boss, whose fantasies about me were as forceful as they were lurid... it was hot.

As such, I was able to take enough time to finish my Uni work in plenty of time for the winter break, and as Christmas crawled closer, I knew that I was on a good path. My tutor for Cultural Context in Literature had sent me an email only the night before telling me that the piece I was writing about Victorian cultural practices contributing to the 'Golden Age of Ghost Stories' was coming along beautifully, so I was forgiving myself the week to relax before that became a significant stressor in my life.

Besides, there was something big about this weekend, and I was knee-deep in planning and plotting. Martin's thirtieth birthday landed on Friday, and I was determined to bring to life one honest-to-God fantasy for him.

At 7am, the alarm buzzed in the bedroom, and after a minute Martin wandered through, a frown on his face and his boxers sporting a vacuum-like outline of his package.

'Morning,' I said to him, as I sipped on my own coffee, wearing nothing but some comfy boxers I'd stolen off him, and my dressing gown. His eyes slid to my cleavage, and a dumb smile appeared on his lips.

'Morning,' he echoed. 'You're up early.'

I shrugged. 'The neighbours were at it again,' I said. Martin was well-acquainted with Zara and Alex by now - he still wasn't totally happy that I had swapped with Zara back when I was still figuring everything out, but after hearing them in the midst of an animalistic fuck-session through the wall, he said he 'got it'.

The fact that I was still, you know, sharing the odd (or daily) intimate moment with them, he wasn't privy to. Hence, why I kept to the early morning stuff, when I could still be asleep for all he knew, as opposed to my body being noticeably 'empty'.

'You look...' he trailed off, as his hand slid under my gown, just to hold the small of my back, his thumb grazing me softly.

'Confident?' I asked, leading him into the subject of the day. His eyebrow twitched, but he didn't ask. He could tell I wanted him to follow up, so he didn't. Tease.

'Sexy,' he said eventually, tugging me closer. I let him, and soon enough we were entwined the way we had been pretty much every morning since that day.

Martin's hands clamored all over me, slightly clumsy in his newly-awake daze, but I didn't complain. Instead, I simply let my leg slide over his midriff as he kissed me, and straddled him as he pulled the duvet from between us. Slowly, lazily, and so unlike what Alex and Zara had been doing next door, Martin's hardness slipped into me. A gasp escaped me, the slickness of my sex - perhaps a result of my mind wandering - welcoming Martin to the hilt as I sat on him.

'Shit,' I mumbled as Martin's hands gripped my tits, our hips rolling beneath us. The head of his cock had a habit of dragging against that very special spot inside me, like stroking a guitar string at just the right pressure, drawing notes of pleasure from me as I whined over him.

Martin's mouth went to my nipple, his hands dragging against my back as I rode him, a little faster now, his lapping lips and grinding hips making me mewl.

'Fuck, yes,' I moaned, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding the head of the bed as we rocked, back and forth, going from making love to fucking.

'Jesus Christ,' Martin moaned as I rode him, the rolling hips leading into bucking. His cock fucked up into me, making us both gasp with each impact, my tits bouncing before his face.

'Yes, yes, yesss,' I moaned, the tension in my body as it reached climax catching up to my mind - catching up with the pleasure I had endured within Zara. I had come already this morning, and yet got to enjoy the climax as it hit like it was my first orgasm of the day; hot and eager and muscle-aching.

It shocked through me, as Martin's orgasm kept pace, shortly behind. He gasped, hands on my hips holding me against him as he came inside, filling me with his warmth. His head lolled back, and I hugged him, my body still atop him, our chests rising in tandem as we caught our breath.

'Wow,' he sighed, and I felt a glow of pride glow inside me.

It occurred to me, in a rather strange way, that this was the first time we had fucked without any swapping or sharing. Ever. This was the first time, as ourselves and only ourselves, that this had happened.

Well. I liked it.

'So,' I said, sucking in a breath of cleansing air, trying to pull energy back into myself after having it plowed out of me. 'I need to love you and leave you,' I said. 'Big day.'

He frowned at me, and I shrugged. Then, as I slipped off him, we both gave a little gasp, then a joint giggle. A morning routine, of sorts.

'Something big at work?' Martin asked me as I pulled on some underwear, but I shook my head.

'Kind of the opposite.'

'Oh?'

I shrugged on a shirt that, in all honesty, could do with an iron - but oh well. Didn't matter.

'What's your plan for the day?' I asked him, as he sat up in the bed, making no visible effort to get ready for, well, anything.

He cracked his neck, and stretched out his shoulder. 'I actually have a meeting later,' he said, coy as ever.

'I hate that you can't tell me about it,' I complained, hiking up my jeans. 'I'm nosy.'

'If you wanted, you could always just pop yourself inside my head and go looking,' he said, pushing.

'Nah - you've earned your privacy,' I said. Martin laughed, a quick snort that made me frown. 'What?'

'Just you. Privacy, against Phoebe Canning, is kind of an impossibility.' I think he realised that he was teetering on the edge of insulting me, so he sat forwards and pulled my hand into his. 'Which would be a problem, if only I had something to hide.'

I kissed his stupid face, and went looking for some socks. 'What, more than your super-secret work?'

He kissed my nose. 'Government contract, with all of the confidentiality that goes with it. I can't tell you anything - but, if you managed to read my mind and suss it out, I wouldn't complain.' His hand snaked around my hip again, pulling me to the edge of the bed as he sat up, kneeling to match my height. His cock, pressed against the leg of my jeans, sent a thread of excitement through me I had to swallow down. No time for that.

'Besides,' he said, close enough for me to feel his breath. 'I think we're past realising that I like you inside me.'

I gave in, and kissed him again, pushing him backwards onto the bed. Besides - who cared if I was late today?

~ 2 ~

'I quit,' I said, holding my head high. It had been a month since anyone but Neil had seen me, and his vision of me was a less-than-typical one. Namely, of me coming in before hours to sneak under his desk, and spending a workday's effort giving him unending, teasing, worship.

I'd spent whole days taunting his cock with my tongue; others spent suckling on his balls until they were red and stretched; one stood out where I had planted myself balls-deep on his length before 'sharing' with him, leaving my body brainless. I had held my own hair in Neil's fist, dragging throat along his cock, pleasuring myself with my half-alive body.

It had been heaven.

Whether the sex, or kink, or even abuse as I had thought it could be considered, was ethical was kind of besides the point. Neil was having a great time, and because I had a recording of him 'raping' me, I always had the option to leave. To walk away.

Which was what I was doing.

'Right,' Neil said, his wide face sad, clearly upset he wouldn't be able to fuck mine anymore. Boo hoo. 'Can I ask why?'

As I sat across from him, the dark, heavy desk between us lewdly familiar to me, I could almost feel my coworkers listening in, through the slightly-ajar door. Around us, the stained-grey and -yellow walls and plant pots and 90's technology watched on, the same as the day I'd started here. The low ceilings made my neck hurt, like I was having to crane my neck, despite my shorter stature.

'You haven't given me shifts in months, and I'm done waiting,' I said, giving him a wink. He breathed out what I realised was baited breath, and the fear in him seemed to fall away. He was truly afraid I was about to send that video to his wife, or daughter. Or maybe even around the office.

Considering how awful a man he could be, that might have even been apt.

But I didn't. He'd paid me for my 'services', and in all honesty, I'd enjoyed every dirty, stinking second of hit fat, long cock. I didn't have any harsh feelings, and I wasn't feeling particularly malicious. After all, with a gift like mine, I was hardly left wanting for much, was I?

'I need more time for Uni,' I said, tapping his desk. 'So, this is immediate.'

His hand landed on top of mine as I stood, making me pause. Then, voice low, he asked me, 'You're not expecting... payment any more?'

I shook my head. 'No.'

'Even, you know, considering. The video, I mean. It's not-'

'It's deleted,' I said. It was a lie, but I was probably going to delete it when I got out of there.

Again, he sagged in relief, and released my hand. 'Right. Good. Yes.'

I gave him a smile. 'Thank you for the opportunity,' I said, before pulling the office door open. Through the office, I got more than one odd look - people trying to work out where I'd been, what was going on - hell, a few faces I didn't recognise, and they were probably trying to figure out who I was. Poking their heads around their desk dividers, computer screen blinking out-of-date technology and creaking in that way plastic does.

When the door to the lift slid shut on my way down, I knew I wasn't going to miss this place.

I stepped into the lobby, the cold hardwood floor a cheap imitation of something more impressive and the slightly-less-neglected grey walls greeted me. At the front desk I had walked past daily for years stood the security guard, a lovely middle-aged man named Frank, who was listening to the local news on the radio.

'How many people still listen to the radio?' I asked, and he smiled at me as I passed - before I stopped. On the news, there was a report that one of the streets in the center of the city had been shut down for filming of an undisclosed Hollywood movie. 'What's going on there?'

'That new Sylvia Wellons flick,' Frank said, barely noticing me. 'She's a nice one, eh?'

She was. And it gave me an idea for my plan.

Martin was going to love this one.

*

Outside our building of flats - the same as ever, partially because Martin had only just gotten himself comfortable, and partially because I couldn't bring myself to give up on Zara and Alex's sex life - was that black van.

I'd seen it once or twice before. Just distinct enough to be recognisable, without doing anything specifically suspicious. I parked up next to it, and tried to look in through the window - only to see a woman with dark red hair, and a viper-like facial structure. Strong and angular. She was older, maybe in her forties, and was digging through her purse.

Haven't seen you before, I thought to myself as I watched her get out of the van, smoothing down her smart business-appropriate dress and shaking out her hair. Then, she started towards the building.

I frowned, not understanding why I had a sort-of sinking feeling in my stomach, but trusting it enough to figure something must be up.

Martin said he had a meeting, I remembered. Maybe this is just that - someone to talk to about his private work.

I shouldn't intrude.

But, as I settled myself into my seat, ensuring my belt was tight enough to keep me upright, I focused on the woman, and let that familiar, almost unconscious THRUMM wash over me.

*

I held back, choosing only to wait in the back corners of this woman's mind as she waltzed up to the building, happy as Larry. She was confident, and calm, and I could feel the authority she carried in her stature. Shoulders back, strong gait, briefcase at her side swinging like a battering ram. She was ready to lay down some law.

So, as she pushed the button to my floor on the lift, I watched. Confident, too. Not because I had any reason to be - in fact, there was every reason for me to start freaking out with nerves; but I was within her mind, and inside her head there was only control.

I discovered, skirting the top-most level of her memory as the lift doors slid shut and the motion upwards made our stomach twist, that her name was Ava Harding. She was smart - smarter than me, on most accounts. And I could feel the base of her motivation as she exited onto the mould-ridden carpet outside my flat.

She was in attack mode. A threat on her tongue, ready to lash out when needed. A loaded gun.

She passed Zara and Alex's flat, and stopped at my door. I watched from within her mind as she knocked twice, heavy and demanding an answer. Within ten seconds, Martin pulled open the door, and welcomed her in quickly.

'Ava,' he said, greeting her.

Why the fuck he knew her name, I didn't know. But I was intending to find out.

She stepped into my home, into my life, and her ease and assuredness lifted something like rage in me. Anger. Betrayal.

Only I couldn't feel those things. Right now, I was part of her, and she was dominant. All I could feel was the calm collectedness, slightly tense nature of her.

'Martin,' she said, stopping dead in our living room and turning to face him. He looked nervous. It didn't suit him - my nerdy, spindly little man who made me feel so safe and cared for. Here he was, twisting his fingers and shifting his weight. 'You need to explain to me, right now, before I take this anywhere near the others, why exactly your work seems to fly in the face of what we're doing.'

He swallowed, and I recognised the cogs turning inside his head - organising scattered thoughts, getting them in neat rows, ready to launch. 'Ava-'