Andrew went up the stairs and down the hall toward his parents' bedroom. His whole body seemed to bounce and jiggle with every step. Most distracting, of course, were the large breasts swaying back and forth on his chest, unrestrained by any bra and held in check only by the stretchy material of the nightgown he was wearing. But he felt his cheeks going up and down, too, as his hips swung from side to side.
"This is so weird," he said.
He tiptoed into the bedroom, afraid of waking up his dad. He paused in front of the full-length mirror. His mother stared back at him, middle-aged, yes, but still pretty. He smiled, and saw her lovely face smile back at him. He turned around and examined his backside. After a quick glance toward the bed, he hitched up the ruffled hem of his nightgown. His mom's bottom seemed impossibly huge beneath the tight satin panties, though he'd never thought of it as big before. He felt it with his hands and pushed it back and forth a little. It was so soft! He wondered what it was like to sit on it.
He let the gown drop back into place and faced the mirror again. Slowly he ran his hands up his sides to his stomach, and then, inch by inch, to his pendant breasts. He cupped them, one in each hand, and hefted them. His body responded with a thrill of pleasure. "Wow," he whispered. "I mean, uh, gross," he corrected himself. But it didn't seem gross now. It just seemed...natural. He really was a woman, wife, and mother.
"Uh, honey?" he heard his dad groggily say.
His hands dropped to his sides. "What is it?" he asked without turning.
"What are you doing? Aren't you coming to bed?"
"Yeah, sure." He went to his mom's side of the bed and got in. He lay with his back to his father. "Good night!" he said.
"Mm," said his dad, wrapping his arm around Andrew's middle, gently brushing the bottom of his breasts. "Feel like being tender?" he asked.