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Question: Story: Write me a story the way I type about 6 year old Tim at his 44 year old aunt Stephanie's house for the summer. Please have Stephanie have blonde shoulder length curly hair and be blue eyed and be living alone and have her be wearing a simple black dress only and have her fingernails and toenails be painted red and have her like drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes and have her own her own fire arm she keeps at home for self defense. As midnight approached, Tim wondered where dinner was as Stephanie usually cooked about this time. Tim went to check the backyard where he saw Stephanie standing and smoking a cigarette while holding her fire arm. Please have Tim say the quote "Auntie Stephanie? Can we have dinner please?" Please have Stephanie say the quote "Oh God! You're so needy. Make yourself a sandwich or something please" shooing Tim back inside. Tim frowned as he went back inside and wished he could get his aunt to come inside and make something. Suddenly, Tim felt a force pulling through the door like he was a ghost and he started flying towards his aunt blacking out for a second. Please have Tim open his eyes as he feels a weird sensation in his mouth as he looks down to see he was taking a puff of a cigarette without coughing causing him to yank it out of his mouth before noticing the nail polish on his fingernails. Please have Tim notice the fire arm in his left hand as he looks down to see the long black dress as well as the shoulder length blonde hair. Please have Tim say the quote "I'm auntie? I don't wanna be auntie!" hearing his aunt's voice instead of his own freaking him out and causing tears to form in his eyes. Please have Tim drop the fire arm walking back inside before running to the mirror and staring at his new female eyes with his youthful innocence still shining through them. Please have Tim look down at his female feet before getting grossed out at the nail polish. Please have Tim say the quote "Auntie's feet are so small and girly. Ew! I hate nail polish! I wanna go home! I'm gonna miss mommy so much oh my god" unintentionally adding a feminine speech pattern to the end of the sentence. Please have Tim collapse on the floor freaking as he sees the dress he's wearing and feels the hair covering his face and feels the weight of the boobs on his chest hoping they're not real but finding out they are as he squeezes his eyes shut hoping it's all a dream not knowing he is doomed to permanently spend the rest of his life in his aunt Stephanie's body.
Once upon a time on a hot summer night, 6-year-old Tim found himself staying at his 44-year-old aunt Stephanie's house. Stephanie, a unique character with shoulder-length curly blonde hair and hypnotic blue eyes, lived alone. Always dressed in a simple black dress, she painted her fingernails and toenails a stark red. Alcohol and cigarettes were her favored evening companions, and she always kept a firearm at home for self-defense. As the clock struck midnight, Tim grew restless, wondering about dinner. Normally Stephanie was in the kitchen preparing a meal by now. Anxious, little Tim ambled towards the backyard. To his surprise, he found Stephanie standing there alone, puffing a cigarette, and clutching her firearm. "Auntie Stephanie? Can we have dinner, please?" Tim asked innocently. Stephanie, slightly disgruntled, retorted sharply, "Oh God! You're so needy. Make yourself a sandwich or something, please," shooing him back inside. With a frown, Tim trudged back inside, a wish fluttering in his heart to somehow convince his aunt to come inside and cook something. But, as he was about to reach for the sandwich bread, a bizarre sensation crept upon him—as if he were being pulled towards the backdoor again like a ghost. His heart raced as he flew towards his aunt, a sudden blackout overcoming him. Coming to, Tim felt a strange sensation in his mouth. He looked down in shock to see that he was taking a puff of a cigarette without even coughing. Just as swiftly, he yanked it out of his mouth, suddenly noticing the red nail polish adorning his fingernails. Terror filled his heart as he noticed the firearm in his left hand and the corners of the black dress at his feet. "I'm auntie? I don't wanna be auntie!" he cried, his voice deeper than it had been before. He blinked back tears as he tossed the firearm aside, running back into the house. Racing towards the mirror, he froze as his gaze met unfamiliar blue eyes, sparkling with his youthful innocence. Looking down, he recoiled at the sight of his feet—small, feminine, with red nail polish adorning the toenails. "Auntie's feet are so small and girly. Ew! I hate nail polish! I wanna go home! I'm going to miss mommy so much, oh my god," he blurted out in despair, his voice lilting in a feminine tone unconsciously. Heart pounding in his chest, Tim collapsed on the floor, the weight of the situation finally dawning on him. The unfamiliar sensation of the dress, the brushing of hair on his face, and the uncomfortable weight on his chest were all too real. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping fervently that it was all just a horrible dream, praying, yet unknowingly resigned to, spending the rest of his life trapped in his aunt Stephanie's body.
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