You decide your Mom is the best target to test this on, as she's the only one home at the moment, and wouldn't bat an eye at your carrying the blowpipe around the house, as she knows you're way into those archeological finds. Finding her wasn't hard, as the smell of dinner came wafting up the stairs from the kitchen.
She's facing the stove when you enter your quaint, simple kitchen. Your Mom isn't tall or incredibly attractive, but she was still cute, especially for her age, and still in fine shape, spending her extra time at the gym to cope with the disappearance for her husband. She turned to see you in the doorway as she turned the heat off on the stove, and smiled sweetly.
"Finally out of your room, huh?" Your Mom, Andria, said cheekily. "I figured the smell of dinner could coax you outta your room. Frankie is staying over at a friend's house tonight, and so is Tracy. Angelina will be back from practice in about an hour, but I figured that was too late for dinner."
You smiled and waited for to turn back to the stove. You took the blowup out for a moment and stared at it for a few seconds. This is for science, right? Worse thing that could happen is literally nothing. You shrug, inhale, aim at your Mom, and speed the air through the pipe.
All at once your consciousness leave your body and begins speeding through the air, and the sudden blackness. Your stir no more than five seconds after the fact and find yourself face down on the tile floor or the kitchen, feeling buzzed.
"Oh God my head," you groan dizzily. You take a moment to sit up, and register how your voice sounded different. You felt different all together. You look down to see that everything was different. "It worked!" You shouted in your new, high pitch, feminine voice. You look at your polished nails, your dainty hands, your hour glass form hiding under your cooking apron and your... New pair of breasts. You give them a short squeeze and feel a split second of pleasure rapture, before you realize how much of your Mom you now are.
A memory flashed in front of your mental eye, triggered by the cooking food. This was of you, your older sister, and... your Dad, from when you were very young, all from your Mom's perspective, eating dinner in your old house, all laughing and smiling. But it made you think of your Dad. And memories of your father. Memories of the good times your Mom spent with him. They flashed across.your kind until it can to the break up. A strong memory of your mother walking up the stairs to her room, opening the door, and finding the man... Fucking your math teacher.
Wait, Dad cheated on Mom?
Your find that tears now stream down your mother's, now your, soft cheecks. You shake yourself loose from that train of thought, and get a hold of your mind back. This is what Mom deals with every day? She is obviously not over your Dad's lecherous actions if those memories come to you this easily.
You stand, shakily at first, but quickly gain your balance again to see your body on the floor.
"Wait, shit!" You shout, sounding uncharacteristic as you kneel next to your fallen form. Your check the pulse and breath of your fallen body. You now endowed chest sighs with relief. Your fallen body is still breathing steadily, with your old heart still pounding quietly, like you were sleeping.
Another problem arose however. You wanted to live as Mom for at least a little longer, but Angelina should be home in... shit, forty-give minutes? And you were asleep on the kitchen floor, blowpipe in hand. You bent over and, grabbing your body by both arms, give you a heft tug. You barely move your 185 lb self to the edge of the kitchen before you're tired out.
"Dammit," you mutter to yourself, kind of exhausted.
So now you had two choices, as far as you could come up with. You could either text your friend William using your own phone, and try and convince him you're in your Mom's body and need help lifting your unconscious body to your bed. Or you could chance it, drag your body to the kitchen pantry, and hope Angelina doesn't come get a snack, as you explore more of being Andria, your mother.
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