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Question: Story: Write me a story the way I write about a random 6 year old boy with a description of the boy's name, appearance, where he's from, what he looks like, what he sounds like, and what he's wearing as he goes to bed. Have him wake up the next morning in the body of a prostitute with the name the prostitute ends up having, her age, have the boy be older than someone he used to be younger than, what state he's in, where he woke up and describe his new appearance, outfit, shoes and purse. Have the boy say "Mommy" in the prostitute's voice before crying as he misses his family. The swap is permanent.
Once upon a time, in the heart of a small town in Illinois, lived a jovial young boy named Ethan. Ethan was a freckled, 6-year-old boy with tousled auburn hair that imitated the color of the falling autumn leaves. He had hazel eyes that sparkled with joy and innocence. There was always a sweet lilt in his voice that made the hearts of everyone around him melt. Tucked into his thoroughbred racehorse pajamas that spoke volumes about his love for these noble beasts, Ethan was all set to embrace another night's peaceful sleep upon his rainbow-themed bunk bed. Overnight, a mysterious life-altering event took place. Upon waking, Ethan found himself in an unfamiliar place; a shabby apartment room in the heart of Nevada, grotesquely decorated with dim neon lights. His body felt different. Oddly matured, he blinked his eyes open, staring at his reflection in the cracked mirror across the room; he was a woman. Her name was Victoria, she was in her late 20s, and she was a woman of the night, earning her living from the lonesome streets and smoky bars of Las Vegas. Her sundry encounters were reflected in the wisdom beyond her years. Disoriented and panic-stricken, Ethan ran his slender fingers through his new silky chestnut locks, his gaze skimming over his new found curves, tucked into a crimson satin dress that contrasted sharply against his fair skin. Kitten heels clung desperately onto his feet, and a black sequined clutch purse sat at the edge of the rickety coffee table. "Mommy," Ethan's voice echoed in the almost barren room, though it was no longer the sweet tone of a six-year-old. His voice was feminine now, filled with empathy and life experiences way mature than his actual age. For a moment, the reality seeped in - memories of his previous life felt like a phantom limb, invisible yet ever aching; memories of his father, his younger brother whom he was now older than, his pet golden retriever, and most of all, his dear sweet mom. A single tear escaped his eye, trailing down his new, softer cheeks. The red lipstick print on the glass of water sitting by his side soothed his parched throat and hardened his resolve. The change was permanent, and the world around him was far removed from the tranquil comfort of his small town. Endowed with Victoria's memories, Ethan knew he had to make it through, living a life that he may not have wished for but was entrusted with. As he tried to steady his shivering fingers, the silent whisper in his heart kept repeating like a lullaby, "I will find a way back, Mommy".
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