"The Transformation of Evelyn Richards"

The year is 2022. In a quaint suburban home, seven-year-old Billy sat in the living room with his mother, Evelyn Richards. Evelyn, a striking 36-year-old, was preparing for a dinner date. She was single, having divorced Billy's father three years prior when he had decided that the responsibilities of a family were too much for him. Evelyn stood at 5'6" and weighed around 140 pounds. With her flowing auburn hair styled in a sophisticated updo and her striking green eyes, she was an embodiment of elegance. She fastened a pair of pearl earrings and adjusted her sleek, black cocktail dress that hugged her curves with grace.

Evelyn's birthday was April 15, 1986, which Billy often remembered by the hippo sticker on her calendar that marked her special day. Tonight, Evelyn was all decked out for an anticipated evening with Mark Sullivan, a charming gentleman she had met at a corporate networking event last month. Mark was tall with chestnut brown hair, a twinkle in his blue eyes, and a comforting demeanor. Evelyn still remembered their first meeting vividly; he had offered her his umbrella during a sudden downpour, and they had shared laughter over a steamy cup of coffee afterward.

Evelyn slipped into a pair of black patent leather high heels with a small bow on the front, complemented by delicate straps that fastened around her ankles. Her jewelry, aside from her pearl earrings, included a thin gold necklace and a matching bracelet, both simple yet refined. Her nails were painted a deep crimson, a perfect contrast to her soft, creamy skin.

Her makeup was skillfully applied: a touch of foundation to smooth her skin, a hint of blush to bring out her cheeks, a smoky eyeshadow that accentuated her green eyes, and a dash of mascara to lengthen her lashes. The finishing touch was her deep red lipstick, meticulously applied to highlight her full lips. She picked up her small clutch purse, a stylish black piece that carried an assortment of typical, yet cluttered, “mom” items—tissues, hand sanitizer, old receipts, and a small photo of Billy.

"Mommy, are you thill okay to drive me over to Emily'th houthe?" Billy asked, his lisp making his request sound even more innocent.

"No, you have to finish your homework cause you didn’t finish it earlier,” Evelyn replied in a stern motherly voice. "You have to stay home tonight. I’m going to meet Mark at the bistro. You stay here and don't make a mess of anything, you understand me?"

Billy pouted as he watched his mother make her final preparations. He had hoped to visit Emily, an eight-year-old girl he had a crush on. She was born on March 3, 2014, making her only slightly older than Billy. Standing at 4’4” and weighing around 60 pounds, Emily had wavy blonde hair that framed her angelic face.

Determined, Billy decided to sneak out the moment his mom left. He had to bring something special for Emily, he mused. As his mom departed, he dashed into her bedroom, wearing his favorite Spider-Man t-shirt, jeans, and old, worn-out sneakers.

His eyes scanned the room until they fixed upon a small, heart-shaped locket that glimmered on his mom’s dresser. It belonged to his grandmother and was passed down to Evelyn. Perfect for Emily, Billy thought. He moved towards it, his small feet padding softly on the carpet.

Grabbing the locket, he spun around without looking, tripping over Evelyn’s high heels that were carelessly left on the floor. His shoes and socks went flying off as he stumbled uncontrollably, landing feet-first into the same pair of heels his mom was wearing earlier. He kicked them off in disgust and shouted, "Eww, too girly!" But then, a tingling sensation began creeping up from his feet.

"No! I don’t wanna be mommy!" he screamed in lisped English, as his feet cracked, aged, and slowly took on a feminine form. His tiny toes painted themselves in the same crimson polish his mother had used. Panic surged through him as his legs, lower body, and chest started to feminize and mature. Before he knew it, he had developed the same curvy figure as his mom, complete with full-grown breasts.

His arms and fingers aged and feminized, with his nails gaining the same polish as his toes. He felt his small face stretch and shift, his hair lengthen and coil up into Evelyn’s sophisticated updo. His voice deepened, then softened into his mom's tone.

"I'm gonna miss my best friend so much," he cried in his mother’s voice. "I don’t wanna be a girl. I want one more chance!"

Suddenly, Evelyn’s formal dating outfit sprung onto his new body, wrapping around him in smooth, elegant layers. The same jewelry appeared on his ears, neck, and wrist, shimmering under the soft bedroom light. His face adorned itself with the identical makeup his mom had meticulously applied earlier, from the smoky eyeshadow to the deep red lipstick.

Slowly, Billy’s memories began to blur and fade, replaced by those of Evelyn’s life. The woman blinked in confusion as she walked over to the mirror, now entirely Evelyn in appearance and mind.

She admired her reflection, giving a satisfied smile. "Wow, look at you, Evelyn. You don’t look 36 years old—that dress looks beautiful on you. Mark is gonna love it. He’s so handsome; I love that he’s taller than me."

Evelyn went over to her shoes, slipping them on her feet with precise movements. She fastened the straps securely around her ankles, the familiar feel bringing a sense of completion. She grabbed her cluttered, black clutch purse, throwing it over her shoulder before strutting back to the mirror.

"Let’s see, I have my purse, my keys, my phone. I am wearing my necklace. I am wearing my bracelet. I have the locket and the tissues," she said with a smirk, "He should be here any minute. He’s so fucking dreamy. I can’t wait to order some wine and some lobster to drink, honey. I'm parched."

With no memory of who she used to be, Evelyn Richards stood ready for an evening with Mark, embracing her elegant reflection with a confident smile.

This story was generated by user manemansteve with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.

Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.

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