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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1974478-The-Transplant/cid/2110805-standing-outside-the-front-door
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by Wassel Author IconMail Icon
Rated: GC · Interactive · Adult · #1974478

Experimental brain transplant surgery saves either your life, or someone very close.

This choice: ...standing outside the front door.  •  Go Back...
Chapter #12

...standing outside the front door.

    by: Unknown
In an instant everything changed. Instead of looking down and smelling the sweet scent of your carpet, you were now standing outside the front door. How? How did I get here all of a sudden? You pondered as you smelled the fresh air and felt a soft breeze making you shiver. Has something been done to the door, it looks different somehow. You think when you suddenly hear a car horn from behind you. Jumping up you turn around to see your mother's friend 'aunt' Rebecca sitting behind the wheel of her car waving at you.

"Have to meet up again soon, bye!" 'Aunt' Rebecca waves as she drives off. You wave back not sure where this suddenly came from. You and 'aunt' Rebecca were okay, but what did she meant with meeting up again soon? It's then that you realized something was off with your hand. It looked a lot different than before. Your hands shrunk somehow, becoming more dainty and feminine. But not only that, your fingernails have grown an inch! Something was definitely off.

You turned around again and felt something was off, your body feels odd. Your chest jiggled so much, like you gained some weight. And what was with this pulling to your front, like you were carrying a set of weights on your chest? You would better go inside and hurry to your room and perhaps sleep a little.

You opened the front door which was unlocked all this time and step inside. Closing the door behind you, you noticed a familiar face in the mirror. "Oh mom thank god you're here. I feel really weird and..." You quiet down as you said all these things but see your mother opening her mouth at the same time. Your mother looks very distressed, just how you felt. It looks like she just came from her workout with 'aunt' Rebecca, her blond hair in a ponytail, wearing a blue vest showing off the black sports bra she's wearing underneath and some black yoga pants with running shoes.

And then it hits you like a mallet, how stupid of you not to realize. You were not talking with your mom through the mirror, but where was your reflection? Looking around you noticed you didn't see your mother anywhere. The hands should have given it away, of course. "Mom, am I you?" You asked and at the same time hear your mother asking the question.

"How could a thing like this have happened?" You asked yourself as you were still standing there looking down at your hands. Looking down you also realized something else as well, your mother is pretty well stacked, showing off a cleavage which would make anyone trying to take peek inside of it. You put your hands on your breasts and find out your hands couldn't even cover your entire breast!

"This is some really freaky shit!" You said grinning, but it doesn't help you any further. The last thing you remembered was being upstairs in your room. Your room! Of course. You quickly run up the stairs feeling your mother's breasts jiggling all the way. You tried not to pay too much attention to it as you hurry for your room. Opening the door you find yourself looking at a macabre sight. Your body lied there on the ground, not moving a muscle. You quickly knelt down next to your body, checking for a pulse. If your body would be dead, how else would you go back inside it? Your heart started beating slower as you could feel a pulse, a light one though. Feeling relieved you sat down next to your body, how would you get back inside it? You suddenly wound up inside your mother, would it take a moment like that to get back?You closed your eyes and tried to concentrate on returning back to your body.

You have the following choices:

1. You returned back to your body.

2. You were stuck a little while longer in your mother's body.

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