"Lessee," said Rob. "What's a good way to test this thing? I wish you were my mom."
"Wait!" cried Bill, but it was too late. The world swam dizzily in front of Bill's face ... he blinked twice ... and then looked down at himself.
Bill was now a bleached blonde, middle aged trailer trash woman, past her prime but still dressed as a tramp in a vain attempt to recapture her youth. Big hoop earrings hung from his ears. He wore a hot pink tube top, several sizes too small. A faded rose tattoo appeared above his huge, but slightly sagging left breast. He wore skin tight jeans that allowed a slight muffin top to appear over his plump, heavy, new "mom ass." He could feel a lacy thong riding up beneath. He had on a pair of spiky black heels. Several cheap bracelets dangled about his wrists, and his long, bright red fingertips held a lit cigarette in one hand and a half-empty can of cheap beer in the other.
Rob laughed hysterically at the sudden appearance of his mom.
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