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Question: Write me a story the way I type about a random 6 year old boy with a description of what state the boy is from, what he looks like, what he sounds like, what he's wearing and what he's doing when he goes to bed. Have him wake up slumped over in the body of a homeless woman in another state with a description of what the woman's name ends up being, how old she is, what she's wearing and a pair of some kind of shoes, what she sounds like as the boy innocently has no idea what's going on feeling awkward in the new body. Have him say "Mommy" and hear the female voice of the homeless woman. The swap is permanent and the boy is sad.
Once upon a time, there lived a 6-year-old boy named Timmy in the bright, sunny state of California. With sunny blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a slight sloppiness when he said his name, he was a chest full of innocent charm. Often seen donning a red racing car pajama, his nightly routine was conventional, brushing his teeth, asking questions to his night lamp, and then falling asleep while caressing his favorite teddy bear. One day, Timmy obliviously fell asleep, little realizing that this slumber would take him on a surreal journey. He awoke, feeling weird, taller, heavier, his body unfamiliar. The sun seemed to have shied away, replaced by skyscrapers, and houses by their concrete shadows. He was in the bustling state of New York, no longer in his racing car pajamas, and certainly not in his own small, snugly bed. Looking around with the frown of confusion on his face, he noticed the reflection of a woman in the dirt-smudged glass pane of a closed shop. The woman was Helena, a name etched onto a tattered ID card in her pocket. Helena, a 42-year-old homeless woman with a face that bore the brunt of the world. Dressed in an oversized brown coat, a fading blue dress underneath, and a pair of worn-out men's boots that she had found in a dingy alleyway. Timmy, now in Helena's body, ventured to speak, but the voice that came out was gruff, resigned, and oddly feminine. This wasn't his soft, curious voice. "Mommy?" the word felt strange to his tongue, and even stranger to his ears. As the truth sank in him, his heart sank with it. His boyish light was replaced by the heavy reality of Helena's existence. This was something more than a bad dream, something more than the tall tales his mother read before he slept. The realization struck him hard and deep that he was now Helena, and this new life was his, permanently. The body of an aged woman, the boots of a man, and the innocence of a child, he was a mismatch of contradictions. Missing his old life, he cried silently watching the world pass him by, his tears blending with the grime on Helena's cheeks. His young heart yearned for his mother, his home, and his bed, where his teddy bear now likely sat alone. A hardship had befallen him, but within that hardship, he promised himself not to lose the spirit of a 6-year-old. After all, he was still Timmy - a tiny California comet that just happened to land on a piece of battered New York sidewalk.
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