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Question: Story: Write me a story the way I write about a random 5 year old boy with a description of what state the boy is from, what he looks like, what he's dressed in, what he's doing and when he goes to bed. Have him wake up in the body of an adult woman in America in the 1950s with a description of what the woman is dressed in, her hairstyle, where she was and her jewelry and accessories and have him walk to a mirror freaking out at his new reflection. Please have the boy unwillingly do feminine things in his body like admiring himself and putting more jewelry on or putting on lipstick or putting on heels. Please have the boy try to say he's scared and misses his mommy but have him unwillingly say it in the way a woman in the 1950s would with the slang included and have it be in quoted text.
Once upon a time, in the heartland of Nebraska, there lived a bright little boy named Benjamin. Benjamin was a young and sanguine five-year-old, with hair as golden as the wheat fields that stretched out around his home. His eyes were the color of the clear blue summer sky, and every day he would dress in denim overalls and a white shirt, mirroring the dress sense of his farmer folks. Benjamin spent his days chasing butterflies, building makeshift forts, and trying to catch birds in his little homemade cage. When the sun bid its colorful farewell to the day, and the moon claimed the vast sky, Benjamin was tucked under his starry quilt and sent to sleep with a gentle kiss on his forehead. One quiet night, Benjamin's sleep was seamless and deeper than ever. When he woke, he found himself in an unfamiliar body and an even more unfamiliar setting. It was the 1950s in America, and Benjamin had turned into an adult woman. He staggered out of a luxurious double bed, dressed in a meticulous red flannel nightgown. His fingertips gingerly touched his tightly wound curls, a stark, dark brown defiance to his corn-hued loose waves from his time. His eyes caught sight of an elaborate vanity table laden with a sea of jewelry and cosmetics. He stumbled towards it, attempting to gain a footing in high heels that he was unwittingly wearing. A glance into the mirror triggered a gasp. Reflected back at him was an attractive woman, with carefully coiffed marcel waves and dressed in what seemed to be a traditional house dress, complete with red-and-white polka dots and a charming lace-edged collar. He ventured towards the series of necklaces and bangles laid before him on the vanity table. As he gingerly held a set of pearl earrings, he felt a strange compulsion to adorn them. Hesitatingly, he placed the earrings onto his lobes and studied himself, a newfound blend of panic and admiration cloaking his reflection. His hand found its way to a robust red lipstick. He watched with detached fascination as the woman in the mirror painted her lips with the bold color, the internal cry of 'I miss my mommy' being unsuccessfully muffled by the alien actions. The confusion etched on his face starkly contrasted with the elegance of his freshly painted lips. Mustering all the courage in his five-year-old heart, he tried to voice out his fears. But the words that came out were far from what he intended, "Oh, sugar! This doll's in the soup. I need a cuppa joe.” Puzzled by this womanly lingo that spilled from his lips instead of his juvenile words, the mirror reflected the image of a bewildered child in a grown woman's body. Rather than his cries for his mother echoed in the grandiose room painted with his newfound adult femininity, the surroundings brimmed with an uncanny silence, save for the sound of the woman's heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
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