Mom and Daughter (Patreon)

Mark never got up before 9am. After finishing school, he went to college. His whole life seemed too carefree for any adult, but he didn't care—parties, girls, and booze—what else do you need to be happy?

"Mom! Are you ready?" Monica's voice rang out loudly. Monica, one of Mark’s many girls, was now convinced that he was her mother - Emma Roberts, , who in her late thirties lived alone and spent most of her life raising Monica and did not achieve much success in her work, working now as a secretary in a local government.

For Mark these several weeks seemed like hell, especially when he saw in the mirror reflection his own true face with long blonde hair and body of middleaged woman. But everyone, including Monica, didn't notice any changes. He hated Monica for wishing this upon him, swapping bodies with her mother who now lived as Mark.

“Mom, you’re really going to wear that?” Monica’s voice was filled with disbelief, her eyes wide with shock. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at her mother who wore a black bra under a crocheted brown cardigan, and high-waisted denim shorts that Monica wore when she was fifteen. “You need to look normal. We’re going to my concert, not a nightclub!”

“I’ll wear what I damn well please,” Mark snapped back in his old manly manner, his voice slipping into his usual rude tone. He hated this body, this face, and these curves, but if he really trapped in this woman forever, then he decided to live like he wanted. "I'm an adult man... I mean, an adult woman and I can do what I want!"

Monica rolled her eyes and muttered, "You're such a teenager." She shook her head. "It's my concert, you know? It's important to me. I just want you to look normal. Like a mom should." She had no idea about the body swap and was convinced her mother was having some sort of mid-life crisis.

Mark glared at her, his fists clenching. "Normal? What's normal, Monica? This isn't normal!" He gestured to his body, the delicate hands, the woman's figure, the long legs. "I’m not supposed to be here, in this body, living this life!"

"I... I'm sorry." Monica was at a loss for words. "I didn't ask you to give birth to me, if that's what you mean! I'm just trying to live my life."

"Oh shit..." Mark's anger faded. "No, you don't understand. I didn't... fuck! Forget it. I thought you wanted me to come to your stupid concert."

Monica's eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face. "It's not stupid! It's important to me. Why do you always have to be so... so mean?" she exclaimed.

Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm trying here. This whole... situation isn't easy for me either," he said, gesturing to himself.

"I just want my mom back. The mom who cared, who loved me," Monica said softly and hugged Mark tightly. "I miss you, Mom. Please come back to me."

Mark returned the embrace, his heart heavy with guilt. "... yeah... yeah, Monica, I'm here..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. After long seconds of silence, he slowly released Monica and stepped back, lowering his gaze and looking straight into her eyes, he quietly said what seemed most correct at that moment, “I... love you...” and blushing with embarrassment, he turned his face to the side. "Where is my black skirt... honey?"

"Mom," Monica whispered softly "I love you too..."