Why?

"So Charles, is there anything I can get you?" Why did I invite him in? Why don't I just stop whatever this is I'm doing and kick him out?

"Um, no, Mrs. Wells, thank you."

"Please, it's Ms. Wells, or just Angie." Why can't I just say it shouldn't be Ms. or Mrs.?

A few weeks ago (though it feels like forever), I was a guy about to marry a wonderful girl named Liz, despite the objections of her divorcee mother, Angie. Every chance she got, Angie tried to convince Liz not to go through with the wedding. I figured we were in the clear after finally saying our vows and later passing out together in our hotel suite.

The next morning, I awoke in a bed that wasn't my own, nor the one I'd fallen asleep in the night before. It wasn't until sitting up, with much more effort than usual, that I realized how wrong things were. Long, blonde hair fell across my face as my chest jiggled and weighed down uncomfortably. Plump fingers brushed the hair away as I caught my reflection in the mirror on top of the dresser. I screamed.

I'd been in this house many times before, but it felt completely foreign now. I rushed to the bathroom mirror, hoping I'd blink and no longer see Angie staring back. That's when I saw the note.

We both know Liz deserves better than you. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to stop her from making a huge mistake. So, I'm taking your place as her husband, which means you'll be taking my place as her mother. This is for the best. Good luck, Angie.

I stood in dumbfounded shock for the longest time. Then, with a snap, I ran back to the bedroom. "For the best, my ass!" I muttered, my rear end bouncing mockingly. I grabbed Angie's phone and called Liz. Pick up, pick up... "Hi honey, it's Mom!" Fuck! Why did I say that??

"Hey Mom! We're actually getting on the plane for our honeymoon now, gotta go, talk soon, love you!"

She hung up, leaving me holding the phone in my soft, manicured fingers in silence. Why couldn't I tell her what was really going on?

It took a while, but I pieced together a few facts. First, while I could mostly live my life as I pleased, I couldn't tell anyone about what had happened. Second, Angie led a pretty easy lifestyle. Between her massive alimony checks and a cushy job working from home, I didn't have to worry about money. That didn't help Angie's figure, or I guess my figure, as I barely left the house and ordered a lot of takeout.

The last thing I learned was the most unfortunate. Turns out, my new body was extremely easily aroused. I found that out the hard way, the first night, as I stumbled upon a drawer full of sex toys. The image burned into my mind. My cheeks flushed. My panties got damp. Before I could compose myself, I'd snatched a giant purple dildo out of the drawer and jammed it into my, uh, snatch.

Until today, I'd managed to keep myself in check. I went grocery shopping late at night, avoided talking to anyone, and got myself off daily. When the doorbell rang, I assumed it was a package being delivered. Instead, it was Charles, the awkward kid from next door.

"Hey, uh, Mrs. Wells. My mom, um, wanted me to come invite you to our barbecue this weekend. We're inviting everyone on the block."

"Oh, I'm not sure. I'm always so busy." I thought that would get rid of him, but he looked so sad and uncomfortable. Before I could stop myself, I added, "But maybe I can work it in? Come inside and we can chat."

This was already the longest I'd been alone with a man since becoming Angie, and I could tell my body was responding. If I could distract myself long enough, maybe he'd get bored and leave on his own. I poured myself a cup of coffee as I considered my next move.


As I turned around, I caught the little pervert staring at my ass! Gah!! The nerve! I'll bet he was thinking about grabbing it, spanking it, watching it bounce as I rode his... argh, why am I so horny all the freaking time?

I quickly turned around, before realizing that wasn't any better. Of all the days to not wear a bra... He didn't even try to hide his gaze as he looked straight into my gaping cleavage.

"Ehem, Charles?" I must have broken his concentration, because he jerked his head up, took one step, and tripped forward. Directly. Into. My. Boobs.


Why did I wrap my hand around the back of his neck? Why didn't I push him away?

Why didn't I do this sooner?