Your Father walks in, dapper in a nice suit and clean shaved. "Are you ready, honey?" He asked, his green eyes looking at you honestly, and earnestly as he offered his hand to you, still sitting down. "Yes, dear." You say, not knowing what came over you, smiling what you know is one of your Mother's finest smiles, your new white teeth on display as you catch a glimpse of yourself taking your Father's hand in the most feminine way. Finding your body placing itself, almost naturally in your Father's chest. You pull yourself away just in time to avoid the awkward situation of being kissed by your own Father, despite the fact that deep down you really wanted to be your Mother and this is simply a by product. You two then leave the house, hand and hand awkwardly enough, but your hand seems to naturally fit itself in your Father's worn hands. You spend the time on the way to dinner, thinking in the swimming pool now known as your head. You are torn between yourself and your feminine desires, still in control, but frighteningly curious.
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