Snatching up the dice, Chris threw a nine, groaning as another yellow came up. Clutching his tits, he reached for the card.
"Oh, so you don't like tits on a man?
I suppose they're rather funny.
So let's change history, and change you,
Into Christine: you'll be their mummy."
"Wait, I... what?" Curiously, all four of them found themselves clutching their heads, groaning, as new memories formed. New lives, as if they were having an entire history forced into them. Of growing up together, and playdates, and of their mother... on Chris's part, he remembered a loving marriage, casting it aside panting underneath a big black dick...
Suddenly they all came to. Jan, Amy and Alice looked owlishly around, seeing the woman sitting in Chris's spot... Christine, their forty year old mother. Clad in a tight leopard print dress, her enormous tits a little stretch-marked and saggy and squeezed into it, long red hair flowing down her back.
"Oh my god! I... I remember giving birth to all of you!" There was a commotion of crying out and screaming, two sets of memories now in everyone's heads. They'd grown up with Christine, she was their mother, of course she was, and the three of them her daughters. Alice was only Jan and Amy's half-sister, of course, a product of their mother having a torrid affair that drove their father away.
"OK, OK, look, let's not think about this," Christine said in a commanding tone, holding out a hand with manicured pink nails. "Let's just get this over with, and we can fix everything!"
"OK, mum," Amy said reflexively, before slapping a hand over her mouth in shock. "Oh god..."
"Just roll, young lady!" blurted out Christine.