Of all the investments that Ken and Ellie made into this house, the absolute best one was the $3,000 dishwasher, because screw doing dishes by hand! All it does is bonk up your wrists and incinerate so much goldarn time it ain’t even funny. Back in the halcyon days, I didn’t need to worry about this shaz, but now that I’m in charge of this place, I gotta appreciate the little things.
As I loaded this sucker up, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the shimmering shiny metal. I scoped some lady with skin light brown, hair black and ponytail’d, tig-bass-itties wrapped up in nothin’ but some black polyester patches, and a great ass out of range. A.K.A. M.E. Miss Excellence. Barbara Ophelia Pequot. The B.O.P. To the untrained eye, it would look as if utterly nothing was wrong. Just the caretaker of the Flare family doing her job of takin’ care of business, bullshit, and bid-nass while the two precious children did their own thing. They’d be dead right… but deader wrong.
Now, seeing as how I wasn’t supposed to do my job in an itsy bitsy bikini, I shut the dishwasher and did what I had to do to get ‘decent.’ Meaning it was time to get wet, wild, and fierce with some fresh threads. Not gonna lie, showering was something I’ve been stoked on ever since I got my mitts on the VD. Seeing all the little nooks and crannies of another person’s… person was always a blast. I was fixing to see as many people naked as I could, but one of my most desired targets was none other than the woman I saw staring back at me in the mirror. A woman formerly known as Babs… until I reclaimed my birth name.
Why did I want to swap with her? To me, the reason was obvious as dirt. I remember saying that Babs was beautiful back when I was a 3-year-old proto-Maxxie. She’s always been a hot lady. Since she was a teenager, since she was in her twenties, and now, with her body looking back at me in the mirror, I’d say she looked fine as fuck at age 34. Entering the MILF zone with the utmost grace and bomb-assiest class! Defo a bit on the plumper side, but anybody who says that’s a bad thing is a coward who wouldn’t know a good time if it busted in their butt.
Honestly, the only thing worse about her body compared to mine was the lack of freckles. My freckles were a thing of queenly greatness, and looking at a face full of plain, even skin was p-boring by comparison. But with every passing day, such a reflection became normaler and normaler.
And the same was true for showering, especially just a rinse. Water falls, trickles down my body, through my curves, and makes me feel a li’l sexy. Soap goes top to bottom, from my face to my pits to my feets, and then I get all dry and apply my lotion all over. ‘Cos hotness like this is worth chopping down a tree or seven for extra kindling.
Next came the drip, and with a body with curves for days like this, all it really took was the right fit to make yourself look sexy. And through enough sleuthing, I found the fits that worked for me. Tonight, I settled on an ‘eye-catching’ crimson tank top, cut low enough to show off my boobs, and high enough to show my midriff, the thinnest part on this thick body. Paired with some black yoga pants, three-quarters length to show off a bit of skin from above my angles, and with a high waist that went right under my belly button, to get everything wrapped up. All nice and tight!
I took a little time to enjoy this sight for myself. But not wanting this moment to fade away, I took a couple pics for my followers on the double T’s so they can scope out these (almost) double D’s. My socials used to just be for art stuff, but since I landed in this bombshell bod, I’ve been luring out some wimp-ass simps, thirstin’ for that boss mama goodness.
It was definitely one of the biggest perks of this body. All it took was some ass or tiddy and dudes kept flooding into my replies, bustin’ all over the place with emojis and saying pervy shit in Spanish. I was used to that kind of reaction with my pervy art, just not the Spanish stuff. But considering I was a Latina hottie, that really wasn’t a surprise. …What was a surprise was the number of dudes who said I should get tats or piercings.
This was my body and I could do whatever I wanted. So nothing was stopping me from hitting up the local parlors, getting all metal-faced, scoring a sleeve of Arabic, and spending a couple months getting a full-on irezumi back tattoo. Except, y’know, I wasn’t about that vibe. I was always a bigger fan of that sweet nat-u-ral hotness, and I had to maintain a crisp image for the kids.
I laughed as I made my sixtieth corny goof for the day and finally left the bathroom to get on with my maidly duties. Heading to the second floor laundry room to fold the clothes and distribute them to the right rooms. Grabbing a sponge and some detergent to clean up the sinks in all four bathrooms. Gathering up and taking out the trash. You know, regular maid shit.
The old Barbara never liked being called that. Maid— the M-word— but the new Barbara was all about it. It made me sound sexier. Though, it was something that I kinda sorta abso-leaking-fruitly opted into.
After The Final Swap, I couldn’t just strut this body out and still call myself Maxxie Flare, say I was 18, and go to college like nothing happened. ‘Cos nobody would believe the story that I got perma-swapped with my pseudo-aunty.
After weighing the cons, the cost-benefit analysis, and all that logical whatzit, we decided that the only way us waku waku seven could ever hope to retain a normal life was to grow from what we’ve got. We didn’t need to follow the same path or anything, but we couldn’t pretend like nothing changed. Well, at least IRL.
I didn’t need to take on the mantle of the homemaker, caretaker, and acting house mama. I could’ve repped that sweet juicy NEET life, freeloading off my parents forever after spitting a sob story about how I lost 16 of my best and most productive years. But that’s some coward shit, and no matter the body, no matter the name, I ain’t no coward.
So, why’d I decide to be a homemaker? Because I didn’t take charge and get stuff done, who the frick would? Yeah, Tyler knew everything about keeping a home clean and functional, but I couldn’t expect an 11-year-old, let alone an 11-year-old boy, to keep the house clean. And while getting a new caretaker was an option, I didn’t want some stranger coming into my house to clean everything and talk dirt about me for being who I is.
As such, I decided to be the lady in charge of all the cleaning, cooking, and coordinating crap. Not because I had to, and not because I blamed myself for the VD breaking— that was nobody’s fault— but, I just felt… responsible. I was an adult before all this jazz, but as a capital-A Adult, I get this nagging feeling like I should take care of these little chickadees. So I took on the duty and… I goldarn wish I paid more attention to what Babs used to do.
Tyler has been a trooper, telling me everything I needed to know, filling up an indexed composition notebook with tips and tricks. So for as much as I might bitch, it only takes about four hours to do my maidly duties everyday, meaning it’s not that bad. Hell, I haven’t even made that many mistakes, and have been moving through my duties pretty quickly— at about four hours a day.
It’s given me the vibe— the impression— the vibepression— that maybe this sexy MILF-y body of mine has muscle memory for all this caretaking stuff. I’ve certainly felt weirder impulses after being in someone else’s body for a full day. Like when I kept craving lemons when I was Haruki, even though she didn’t even like lemons. And of all the traits to inherit, this one was pretty good. At least a B-rank.
Besides, cleaning up a house like this was seven times better than ‘trying to hold down a 9 to 5’ and five times better than taking a bunch of classes I didn’t give a crap about. I’m only giving that a 5x multiplier because learning stuff is always kinda neat, but not when you need to go to a place, sit for hours, and take tests. But I never, ever need to do any of that crap again. I can learn whatever I want! And once autumn settles in and the kids are out of the house, I’ll be sure to do what I gotta do to hone my craft. As they say, the internet is the best university, because it is the universe! …Whatever that means!
When I put it that way, this actually sounds like a pretty sweet deal for me, but if there was one point of contention— aside from the years that were ‘stolen’ from me— is the hands. It was something I thought about as I tied off the garbage bag and carried it out back. The hardest thing for me to get used to was the little stuff. The way my fingers held a pen and how the teensy muscles inside them changed how I drew.
Fortunately, I had nabbed a pair of good hands. Hands that had done some hard work, but were treated with oodles of care. Was I treating them with the same level of care nowadays? Well, I pretty much had to. Hand exercises became part of my morning routine, same with using a brace when I needed it. The way I read it, my hands were the most important part of my body, and some— Tyler— might say that I don’t give the same TLC to the rest of me, but that is— factually— untrue. Sure, I packed on a couple kilos since summer started, but that was a choice, not an accident.
This is my body, and I like having some extra beef on them bones, junk in the trunk, and goods in the hood. Thick is the next generation of sexy, and so long as I maintain it, it’s not a problem.
…Shit, I’m gonna need to start doing some regular exercises too, aren’t I? Guess I’ll need to re-open Ken’s workout room or something. Ugh!
But, um, yeah. The usual devils of health and fitness, and age, aside, shit was going fine as hell in this new body of mine, and I didn’t even need to throw away my online persona or anything. Sure, people thought my voice sounded deeper and my style drifted when I resumed the art streams back in July, but I choked it up to a new mic and a minor hand injury and nobody said nothing more. I was just lucky that my voice pretty much didn’t change with my body.
As I let these thoughts bounce about while doing my Saturday chores, I realized that it was already 18:30 and decided it was time to call the kids down for dinner. While we were supposed to change bedrooms a while back, we quickly realized that it was easier to keep our old bedrooms and change around stuff like the mattresses and wardrobes. Mostly because I had too much shit that I still wanted, but Maxine and Tyler didn’t. The bedroom with the door that once had the name ‘Maxxisaurus’ engraved onto it was ‘Barbara’s room’ while the smallest of the bedrooms was Maxine’s bedroom.
“Hey girl, you wanna come down for dinner?” I said as I was inches away from Maxine’s bedroom.
After giving the door three knocks and waiting an extra five seconds, I opened up the door and saw Maxine, standing in front of her full-length mirror. She was looking all done up, with a snug cream-colored top that left her semi-trim midriff show. A fresh pink jacket that was a little baggy on her, but in a cute way. Little jean shorts that couldn’t fit shit in them, but had these cute little bedazzlings on the side, all held up with a pink belt— because style. But le pièce de résistance was the pink and blue bow on her head, with her hair all nestled up in a high-pony.
It was an über kawaii look for an über kawaii gal. Alas, alas, ornery like an ass, she didn’t seem to see it that way, as she was all frazzled when I came in. Like I caught her masturbating to polaroids of dog feet.
“B-B-Barbara? W-why didn’t you knock?”
“I did, but it looks like you were in la-la land, weren’t ya, girl?” I said, moseying into her room.
“Oh… S-Sorry about that, I was just startled and—”
“You are so adorable, I could eat you up, I swear.”
“T-Thank you, but you should not open my door without permission, what if I was… naked?”
“Like I said 5 hours ago, we’ve all seen you naked, Maxine. And you look great, so don’t get any ideas about being anything other than a big old cutie patootie!”
“And if you were doing that, I would be able to hear it. I’ve got the ears of a homemaker. I can tell when kids are up to something, especially when their name is Maxxisaurus Omega Flare.”
“That’s… a little disturbing to know. That I never have full privacy.”
“You do most of the time, just not when it’s time for dinner. You won’t see me barging in past 21, so schedule things accordingly.”
As I made my teasing comments— because Maxine was such a good teasing target— I looked at her face. Her lips curled in as she tried to suppress a smile, her eyes looking down at the floor, and her arms wrapped around her chest.
“I swear, every passing day you just get cuter and cuter. You are so much cuter than you were back in May that it’s not even funny.”
“O-Oh, you know that’s not true, Barbara, I…”
“Maxine, can we sit down and chat?”
We then sat down on her cushy bed— a bed I knew very well— and I wrapped my arm around Maxine. She always flinched when I did this, but I knew it made her feel comfy and loved.
“You know, we started this summer with the goal of redefining who we are. Not throwing everything away, but taking ourselves in a newer, more comfortable direction. Personally, I think you, me Tyler— all of us— we’ve been making big strides. Don’t you agree, Maxine? ”
She looked down at her hands, staring at her fly fit, her long nails, and wiggling the toes of her bare feet. She looked over herself and took a deep breath, before looking back at me, all smiles.
“I… I feel like I’m moving slower than others, but… I do.”
“I can tell that, even though you still carry some needless guilt over what happened, you have never been happier. Am I wrong?”
“No, Barbara, you’re not. I… I feel bad about this. Part of me still feels like I’ve stolen something, but I would be lying if I said that this was not… similar to a fantasy I had in the past. I’m… I’m a woman. I like looking at myself now. I feel comfortable in my skin. So many anxieties and stresses are… no longer there. When I look in the mirror, I see a cute girl, and I know that cute girl is me. Seeing her face, feeling her body, hearing her voice… it all makes me so… happy.”
Maxine then popped out of her bed and walked to the mirror, pressing her hand against the glass.
“With every passing day, things feel a bit more normal. They feel a bit more right. And my reflection feels more and more like not only a reflection of my body, but my very soul.”
“And it should feel that way now, Maxine,” I said as I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Because the girl in the mirror… that’s you. And it always will be, no matter what.”
As I told her these encouraging words, I gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“This could have played out any number of ways and, for your own sake, I’m glad things turned out this way. Because I know that this was the best outcome for you, Maxine.”
We then enjoyed a hug, wrapping our arms around one another and… just staying there for a moment, neither one of us saying anything as we relished in each other’s company. …Until some boy started clapping his hands and stomping his feet like he owned the damn place.
“Such a touching display of affection, you two. If I didn’t know any better, I could swear that you two were sisters.”
As Tyler interrupted our bonding time, I broke my physical bond with Maxine and sighed at the little man, dressed up like he was going to a shmancy gala with his folks. Dress shirt, slacks, bow tie, everything except the shoes, because he was barefooting it like a champ.
“So, do you need a pep talk from big sis about how you’re great and she loves you?” I asked, looking down at Tyler and giving him a nice view of my tits.
“No thanks. I know I’m just a kid, but I’m a real fast learner. I just need to hold onto the determination I need to get through school, hopefully impress the teachers enough to get special treatment. …That sounded better in my head.”
“Ugh,” Maxine groaned. “The last thing I want to think about is school. My brain still feels fried from that… summer homework.”
“C’mon Maxine,” I began, “As a high school graduate, you should’ve had no problem with a GED study guide. I mean, you graduated less than three months ago. Now, if you were an 11-year-old, like your brother, what you did would be monumentally impressive. But here, it was just to keep your mind sharp.”
I was being kind of shitty with that comment, but it was important to keep up appearances, even in private like this, and Maxine was a good sport. She knew I would never want to hurt a hair on her pretty little head.
“In fact,” I continued, “I just ordered another set of books for you to read. Just because you’re not jumping into college does not mean you can escape education, young lady.”
“UGH! I already graduated, like you said. Do I really need to do all of this?”
“I mean, you just could choose not to. I’m not going to kick you out or anything. But I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be happy about their daughter not knowing what the seventh amendment was.”
“The… what does that have to do with being a—” Maxine began before I cut her off.
“Do you not remember the constitution test? You needed to pass it to graduate. Trust me, even as a GED-er myself, it was a pain in the derriere to study for.”
“Hey Barbara, what is the ninth amendment?” Tyler asked, sounding like a snot-nosed punk.
“Uh… cruel and unusual punishment?”
“Oof! So close. No, that’s the eighth amendment. Ninth is… rights not enumerated in the Constitution are retained by people.”
“The hell does that even mean?” I asked without thinking.
“I dunno, why are you asking me? I’m just a kid!”
Tyler could be such a cunt sometimes, but I loved him for it.
As the three of us had a little laugh over these antics, we heard Tyler’s stomach audibly grumble.
“Aw, are you feeling a trifle bit peckish, little man? Do you want some din-din?” I said in my best baby voice.
In response, Tyler brushed his hand against my plump cheeks and looked at me with a stern expression. His voice deepened, making him sound like a little kid doing a ‘dad’ voice.
“Don’t you dare talk down to me! You are a mere maid, a servant, and if you displease me again, I shall ensure that my father personally disposes you from my home. You shall treat me with the utmost respect, understood?”
“W-Why, yes. Y-young Master, I shall do whatever it is you ask of me.”
“Whatever I ask of you, eh? I understand that your ilk often know English as a second language, but do exercise care with your words, for liberal promises are prone to abuse. And I just might take you up on that offer in a way you’d rather not imagine… or would you? I know how your people can be.”
As Tyler got into his rich man groove, Maxine stood up and slapped her brother on the face. I could tell that it hurt.
“Don’t even joke about fucking the woman who raised you, Tyler. Even as a joke.”
“Okay, jeez, sis,” Tyler said, rubbing his cheek. “We’re just messing around.”
“And I don’t like it. As your big sister, I have the authority to tell you no. And I’m telling you NO!”
As we let this awkwardness linger for a moment, we all busted up, laughing at the absurdity of the situation.
“I guess what you’ve been saying is true, Barbara,” Maxine began. “No matter what, we’re still ourselves, and… I love you for that. It drives me a little crazy sometimes, but… I love you guys.”
We then gathered around and hugged, pressing our bodies against each other in a warp embrace… and shoving our boobs against Tyler’s head. Ah well. He’s a boy. I’m sure he enjoyed it.
With 15 minutes killed and our tummies hankering for some grub, we headed downstairs for dinner. Now, I could have whipped them up something fast, but when cooking, it was the most economical to make things in bulk. Why make one dinner when you could make two by doubling the ingredients? Between set-up and clean-up, it was a waste to do otherwise, and that has always been part of the Barbara code!
So instead of looking over a stove to make some quick pasta and meatballs or whatever, I made extra BBQ stuff and reheated it with the jolly old microwave, as was the Barbara way. Kids don’t notice the difference, not even li’l Tyler.
We just grabbed what we wanted, made it nice and HOT, and headed to the sensibly sized dining table. For us girls, we settled on taking some of the grilled chicken and tossing it over some salad. Because Maxine was trying to lose weight, and I had to do maintenance sometimes. Tyler though? He was a gosh darn American with his plate. Cheeseburger, hot dog with pickles and onions, fried potatoes, which were basically just fat french fries, and a glass of Sprite with ice.
Calorie counting was for commies and cool cats, but that was over a full grand he was shoving into his face when counting all the BREAD.
“Damn, Ty. Where you gonna put all that food?” I asked.
“In my belly and my metabolism will take care of the rest. But I get why you’re so concerned.”
“Yeah, because if I ate that, it’d go straight to my ass. But for you… shit, it’s just gonna go straight outta your ass.”
Maxine laughed at the comment, nearly choking on a chunk of chicken.
Tyler continued to eat like the boy he was, guilty of glutton to the third degree— whatever that means— I bad-mouthed him, but, to be honest, I did really miss my ability to eat like an asshole. Instead, I had to balance this prime thickness and not surpass the chubby cutie threshold.
Which also meant I had to give up my beloved CHarM tea. Never again shall my mornings be met with the sweet blend of chocolate, honey, milk, tea leaves, and hot water. Instead… I got just super, super boring. The hot drink that really got me going in the morning was the swill of adulthood. The capitalist caffeine concoction of Colombia and colonialism. Coffee. Black coffee. At first, I thought she was far too bitter and bitchy to ever dance across my virgin tongue.
Alas, my tongue hath been deflowered nearly a score prior. Accordingly, she became what this body of mine craves. Bitter, hot, and filled with a natural drug. In fact, merely thinking of her kindled these cravings, but I knew it was most unwise to drink her sweet juices, or else I shall be tormented by the profoundest of unrests ‘til the break of dawn.
It was… weird having these new preferences accrue up in my dome. Liking coffee, enjoying the occasional vodka soda, not having much of a sweet tooth, willingly doing chores. I still felt like myself in my heart of hearts, and this is totes the figure I was aiming to cop by 34— and that’s when it hit me. Like a wet sack of giraffe cocks. I was just me, but older!
“How did it take me two and a half months to figure that shit out?!” I shouted, slamming on the table.
“Figure what out, Barb?” Tyler asked me, sipping his soda.
“That… I’m really just who I was at 18, but older. Pretty much all the changes are just me getting old and learning to embrace it, because it’s too much work to fight it at this point.”
“Pfft. I could’ve told you that a good month ago. I thought it was pretty obvious.”
He did have a point. While Jad, Lynne, Shiaka, and Zoe all went about some major changes, we pretty much are just us but with a new role. Maxine’s living her almost dream life, but working on the whole adult-ing thing. Tyler’s regressed into being a rich boy and is loving it. As any sane person would. For real, the only way he could have more privilege is if he could shit out the melanin.
As I let my mind wander about, and Tyler tore through his food, we eventually finished up dinner. As the diligent caretaker, I tossed the dishes into the dishwasher, let Cissy do her thang, and looked at the time. 19:15. Meaning that I had a good chunk of a night to spend however I damn well pleased, and I knew just what I wanted to work on!
It all began with plopping my ass into my chair. She served my heiny thousands of hours in the past. While it took a bit for her groove to adapt to my new girth, she had accommodated, and I felt like I could stay in her forever as she caressed my folds. But she also filled me with great determination. With my stylus pen in hand and an image in my mind, I began to draw.
Three hours later, I looked at my latest creation. It was nothing too ambitious, but it was something that I should’ve drawn almost a year ago considering the avalanche of TG adventures I’ve been on. It was my latest piece of official artwork for the GOAT 1990s anime K.O. Century Beast Warriors! I mean, the rights were technically made out to Maxxisaurus Omega Flare, not me, but it was close enough.
The art itself featured Akumako, the actual best character, TG-ing Wan, Bud, and Mei Mer— the three central protagonists. It was not the first time I had drawn girl Bud or Wan, or male Mei Mer, but it was good to bust out these remixed designs for the first time in a long wild. I got to update my designs to my modern standards, and give them the most adoracute expressions these hands of mine could muster.
With everything colored and looking like it just jumped straight outta 1994, I loaded it up on my socials and sent it out to my followers. I took a moment to enjoy the scattering of reactions from people who followed me for my art, and not my sexy bod. The replies and notes were filled with gushings about how cute this was, and one dude wishing that this was part of the anime. I mean, I wish it was too, but Ken and Ellie would never give me two hundred grand to drop on a project like that.
As the initial burst of comments came to a crawl, I saw the clock trick past 22:30. As much as I hated it, this was about my bedtime, and I started doing all the usual boring crap. Brushing the face, washing the teeth, doing the stretches to avoid morning soreness, the works.
By the time I was done, it was already past 23:00, and I was under my sheets, naked as can be, trying to fall asleep… except I kept thinking back to the pool party.
“Cripes, everyone was so freaking sexy there.”
Seeing Lynne letting her girls hang out, and letting them loose during the race— all according to keikaku. Seeing Zoe strut his hot bod like a dog, getting all tired and sweaty as his woman made him work. Seeing Shiaka embrace her inner boss mama, ditching that demure crap. Watching Jad be a fucking bro after all the shit he’s gone through. And letting myself get a nice look at the girls whenever I happened to look down or lay back. Just thinking about them got me feeling all hot and wild!
With some succulent juices trickling down my thighs, I decided it was time for a little puff-puff, with the help of Strider-kun! …Which was my purple vibrator’s pet name. With the natural lube already applied, he slid in real nice-like, and I cranked hip up to medium to get things rolling along…
I know I said that I was stoked on showering in other people’s bodies, but the truly greatest experience of being another person wasn’t being naked and wet. It was being naked and getting wet. Ever since I felt the pleasures of a penis, working Jad’s dick raw, I became lowkey obsessed with masturbating in other people’s bodies. I felt the pleasure of everyone in our little circle. From Ken to Haruki to Natasha, and everyone in between. I even snuck into some of those adults-only swap ‘n’ fuck fiestas. And it was a shame that I wouldn’t get to experience what it was like to get off or fuck as another couple hundred people.
That wasn’t to say that this body was bad. If anything, it was probably my favorite of all the ones I tried. Though, that really wasn’t a surprise. The first IRL naked woman I saw was Babs. Seeing her moan softly, trying not to wake up the kids, as she let that thing rock her ‘privates’ before shooting out that ‘clear pee-pee.’ It was confusing yet captivating, just like Elfen Lied and all that Pokémon porn. But I remember, at age 9, looking up at that and imagining myself in that position. And now… here I was. 10 kgs heavier, with a vibe between my legs, a hand on a boob, and a nip in my mouth. I felt like I was skidding on the rim of heaven.
Just as I started seeing that pearly white gate, I felt my juices gush out of me and spray over my hand. Once things cooled down for a sec, I brought my fingers to my mouth.
“It tastes just like honey. Exactly like honey.”
I put Strider-kun aside as I wallowed in the afterglow and threw the sheets over me, not caring if they got dirty, because tomorrow was sheet-washing Sunday anyway.
With the horny demon controlling my brain satiated, I was able to calm down. Yet as I did so, I couldn’t help but linger on one final thought. I was just me, but older… yet I didn’t have a partner. I was 34. Now was the time to date and marry, same with having a kid, and while I could wait a few years, I knew my window was closing. I knew that before June 2015, I wasn’t hankering to get hitched and was fine with just friends with benefits.
As for potential suitors, I dunno, my group was pretty limited unless I wanted to snipe some teenagers. Raiyne Underwood and Babs had a bit of a thing goin’ on. But there was no way I could be girlfriends with an English teacher who doesn’t let students use words like shaz, glomp, and dochy. Haruki’s dope, but she’s a decade younger than me. Natasha’s nice when she can let loose, but that’s jumping up 18 years and I know she’s gonna be a bitch when she gets real old. Which leaves Lynne.
Every time I’ve seen her, she found a way to get a little sexier. She got shook at the start of summer, but now she’s this close to dressing and acting like the nine outta ten she is. Knowing the bond we truly share, I’m sure she’d be happy if I came out to her and just said it straight up. That I’ve been waiting for you to get a clue for a decade and I want us to be wives! But I can only imagine how she’s truly been adapting to this. How it feels for her to look at her son live his life and carve his own path while she retains the role of homemaker and mother.
…Though, that didn’t stop me from fantasizing about us together on her bed, naked. She would sheepishly look away from me as I helped her discover the finer things about her body, and cast aside any dangling bits of taboo that rested in her pretty little head. As I lingered on this thought, my eyes fluttered shut and I fell asleep, sprawled across my bed, with a hand between my legs.