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Question: Story: Write me a story about 6 year old Dylan who lives with his 37 year old aunt Clarissa. Dylan's 34 year old mom Judy was in jail and had never had the best reputation with the cops due to her drug addictions and her shoplifting problem. Clarissa, wasn't much better. She was a single woman and was addicted to cigarettes and alcohol often passing out in random rooms in the house. She had long blonde hair that was dirty and blue eyes that still held some beauty. She loved her feminine outfits that were old and worn but it didn't matter to her. Often wearing heels, flats, sandals or wedges or dresses, shorts shorts, tank tops and skirts or a simple bra and panties paired with leggings and an array of jewelry. Today wasn't the usual day Dylan was used to. As he sat downstairs playing with his toys in the living room waiting for Clarissa to come down and at least try to make a dinner, he noticed it was nighttime outside and she still hadn't come downstairs. His stomach growling, Dylan reluctantly climbed the stairs not ready to face his aunt knowing how "weird" she looked and smelled as he described it in his little innocent way. Opening his aunt's door, he immediately heard the loud sound of his aunt snoring and smelled the strong scent of alcohol and tobacco in the room. Carefully walking towards his aunt's bed, he saw a half drank bottle of vodka on the ground next to her bed making him gag in disgust. Trying to shake Clarissa awake was pointless as she was deep in her sleep. As he went to leave, he accidentally tripped causing him to slip his tiny feet in a pair of black platform sandals Clarissa had just kicked off before she initially passed out. Seeing his aunt's sandals on his tiny feet grossed him out. Going to remove the sandals, he suddenly noticed his feet cracking and aging into Clarissa's until they looked exactly like hers. He tried removing the shoes but it was like they were glued to his feet. The changes accelerated as his legs feminized and matured as a tattoo of an angel appeared on his left ankle matching his aunt's tattoo. His body and chest matured and feminized. His arms matured and lengthened until he had his aunt's hands. His head and face changed into Clarissa's as his eyes turned blue and his hair turned long and blonde and dirty. His teeth turning yellow from the constant drinking and smoking. His voice maturing into Clarissa's slurred female pitch. His outfit turned into a red short sleeve plaid shirt and short shorts. He looked over at his sleeping aunt and noticed she was slowly fading and evaporating into a mist. Now realizing he was becoming his aunt's replacement, his only hope was that he would be a better aunt than his own aunt was. Suddenly, his memories started altering and changing. As he hoped to become a better aunt, his wishes were short-lived as he saw visions of himself smoking and drinking and puking and sleeping. Sadness and fear in his mind as he realized he was turning into the exact same horrible Clarissa. Eventually, his memories had completely altered and changed until he only remembered being Clarissa. The new Clarissa blinked in confusion as she stood in the middle of her bedroom wondering why she was awake. As she looked around her room, she took a step before almost falling over before barely stopping herself from doing so. Looking down at her platform sandals, Clarissa slurred "Oh yeah. Guess I'm like still wearing my sandals" Clarissa then grabbed her bottle of vodka opening it back up and taking a sip as she left her bedroom. Each step was unsteady as she struggled to hold on to her bottle tightly while she also kept looking down at her platform sandals trying not to trip in them. Making it down the stairs and facing the kitchen, Clarissa took a big uneasy step causing her to fall and for her platform sandals to fly off her feet. As Clarissa sat up on the floor dizzy and drunk, she crawled to her left platform sandal sticking it back on her left foot and crawled over to her right one and stuck it on her right foot. Opening the fridge, Clarissa spotted the food she wanted. As she went to reach it, her vision became cloudy and she surrendered the idea of eating and laid her head on the kitchen floor falling asleep with the fridge still open having no memory of being her very own son.
Once upon a time in the murky, dilapidated outskirts of a forgotten little town, a six-year-old boy named Dylan lived with his thirty-seven-year-old aunt, Clarissa. Dylan's mom, thirty-four-year-old Judy, was in jail, battling the biting chains of drug addictions and a gruesome history of shoplifting. Clarissa, unfortunately, was not any more exemplary. Her life was enshrouded in the smoky haze of an insatiable cigarette addiction and an irresistible urge for alcohol. Clarissa was a tall, slender lady with long, unkempt blonde hair that fell haphazardly on her shoulders. Her big blue eyes still held an inexplicable charm. Regardless of her addictions, she held a fondness for feminine outfits, wearing old dresses, shorts, tank tops, and an array of worn out jewelry pieces. However, today was not just another degenerate day in their lives, today was different. As the sun set and darkness wrapped its arms around their crumbling house, Dylan waited in anticipation for Clarissa to come down to make dinner. But after his fifth glance at the clock, Dylan knew something was amiss. With a growling stomach and a trembling heart, he ascended the creaky wooden stairs to Clarissa's room. The overpowering stench of stale smoke and alcohol hit him first. What he saw next froze his little heart. Clarissa was sprawled across her bed, snoring loudly, a half-drank bottle of vodka on the side, and her black platform sandals lay discarded next to the bed. Dylan approached his aunt, trying to rouse her from what seemed like an alcoholic coma. His efforts proved fruitless and as he turned to leave, he tripped over her black platform sandals. Slipping his feet into the shoes, he experienced something frightfully unreal. His tiny, innocent feet became crusted and aged, exactly like his aunt Clarissa. His body began to morph, feminize, and age. His skin inked itself with an angel tattoo, identical to Clarissa's. The changes cascaded, rippling through his body, his arms lengthened, fingers grew slimmer, face morphed, eyes turned into a crystal clear blue and his golden locks turned into a dirty blonde mane. He was morphing into Clarissa. As his body altered, his aunt's body faded into a mist until there was no sign she had ever existed. Alongside the physical transformation, came the tribulation of altered memories. His childhood was being overshadowed by visions of him as Clarissa consuming alcohol, smoking, collapsing, and living a decrepit life. In the end, he was Clarissa—every memory, every sensation of him being Dylan were stolen by this transformation. Stumbling in the darkness of Clarissa's room, he swayed, clutching a fresh bottle of vodka. His steps were uncertain, impeded by his black platform sandals. A hidden part of Dylan tried to resist, to remove the shoes causing his demise, but they clung to him like a second skin. In a drunken stupor, he lost his footing and fell flat on the kitchen floor. Sleep claimed him right there, his sordid curling up in the spilled leftovers from the fridge. That night, Clarissa was born anew, and Dylan, a once innocent child, lost in the labyrinth of forgotten memories and broken promises.
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