When the feelings of ecstasy finally stopped, Helen breathed in a sigh of relief and looked around. Everything in the kitchen looked shorter, easier to grab at. She slowly lifted her arm and reached toward a small cupboard, one she always struggled to grab and marveled at the fact that she could reach it and open it with almost no effort at all. It seemed like such a small thing to be amazed by, but to a woman who had lived her whole life struggling with being a bit on the short side, it was amazing.
And then she looked back at Dylan. Her son was still sitting there, gun pointed at her, with wide eyes and a slight disruption in his pants, completely transfixed on his recently grown mother. "Honey," Helen began, taking a step towards Dylan. She felt the surprisingly cold shock of the tile floor against her newly barefoot, and turned slightly to see the tattered remains of her shoes laying on the ground. Regardless, she continued to walk towards her son. "Did you do this to Mommy?" She said, leaning over to look into Dylan's face. As she did, there was a tearing sound and the bottom of her pants ripped open even further. Dylan just nodded his head, yes. Helen looked at the bulge in Dylan's pants and, unable to control herself all of a sudden, placed her hand on it. "I really liked those clothes, Dylan. It was very naughty of you to break them like that." Helen said. Dylan swallowed hard. "In fact, I think as payment, you should have to break some of your clothes, yeah?" As she said it, her newly large hand slipped around the gun and yanked it out of the powerless boys grasp. "Or maybe... Mommy can have some more fun." She said, spinning the gun in her hand.
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