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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, what state 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 black prostitute with the name the prostitute ends up having, her exact age, have him be older than someone he used to be younger than, what state he's in, where he woke up and describe his new appearance including his hair and possible hair dye and eyes, outfit, have him wake up with heels or wedges or sandals on his feet, purse including the contents of the purse. Have the boy unwillingly say something about the purse only the woman would say. Have the boy unwillingly say something about the heels only the woman would say. Have the boy unwillingly say something about his name only the woman would say. Have the boy unwillingly say something about his body swearing only the woman would say. Have the boy say "Mommy" in the prostitute's voice before crying as he misses his family but then unwillingly follow it up with something only a black prostitute would say. Have the boy try to walk normally but unwillingly walk like prostitute even unwillingly making faces and poses with descriptions of the poses. The swap is permanent.
Once upon a time, nestled deep in the heartland of Kansas, there lived a chirpy, 6-year-old boy named Toby. Toby had a freckle-speckled face, tousled golden curls, and clear blue eyes as wide as saucers. He had a high-pitched voice, filled with unmatched energy and curiosity, and his little feet would patter around in dinosaur-themed pajamas that his mother laid out for him every night. However, one peculiar morning Toby awoke, no longer in his dinosaur-themed pajamas, but instead in the body of a black woman. He wasn't Toby of Kansas anymore; he was Vanessa of Nevada. This unimaginable switch had transformed him into a 30-year-old prostitute. Vanessa was older than Toby's elder brother Eddie, whom he had always trailed behind in age. Vanessa had bewitchingly beautiful almond eyes that twinkled with the wisdom of her years and nectarous laughter. Her body was adorned with a maroon velvet dress, clinging and outlining her curvaceous figure. She had a voluminous cascade of ebony hair, streaked with unexpected hues of electric blue. Vanessa turned heads effortlessly, a strange sensation for tiny Toby. Awkwardly, Toby looked down to find his petite boyish feet cocooned in a towering pair of red, glossy heels. A sparkly silver purse lay beside him on the tacky motel bedcover. It was filled to the brim with an assortment of lipstick shades, a tatty notebook full of cryptic codes, an aged Polaroid picture of a smiling toddler, and fresh wads of cash, unlike any possession Toby was used to before. Unwillingly, he muttered, "Oh, these heels make me feel like a queen," a sentiment Vanessa often voiced that felt oddly foreign to Toby's innocent mind. Much to his surprise, he found himself saying, "My name is Vanessa, the queen of nights. Ain't got no time for lightweight games." Suddenly, staring at the strange woman in the dingy mirror reflection, he muttered, "These curves aren't for the faint-hearted." His voice seemed to have adopted a languid, sultry tone that caught him off-guard. Toby didn't like it. All he wanted was to be nestled in his dinosaur-themed bedsheet and hear his mother's hushed lullaby. With a tightness in his throat, he whimpered, "Mommy," in Vanessa's sultry, grown-up voice. "Shut up and toughen up, sugar," he found himself saying immediately after, unintentionally mimicking the painted woman's streetwise patois. Panicked, he attempted to move around the room but rather than his usual clumsy gait, he moved smoothly. Unconsciously, his hands found their way to his hips, posing seductively. His lips, painted a rich plum colour, pursed in an emotion hard for him to interpret. Each step he took in those towering heels was a reminder of the strange, new journey he found himself on. Oddly enough, his attempts at ambulation were perceived as Vanessa's signature strut, sultry and confident, so unlike his own. Unwittingly, the postures and expressions that he deemed freakish transitioned from mere coincidences to regular occurrences. As the tears welled up in the corners of his transformed eyes, the morning light filtered in, highlighting a twist of fate Toby couldn't undo. For better or worse, it seemed that he had swapped his cozy dinosaur-decorated world for Vanessa’s towering heels and velvet shade. His journey as Vanessa had only just begun, and he feared the path ahead. But now, he was the queen of nights.
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