"You're unlucky and it chose you and me. I'm glad it did. Rushing through college as Lucas would have been too much, and I don't want to be a young girl again. I'm really happy I get to be David now. I can't begin to tell you how GOOD I feel in this body -- no, I can, it's exactly the opposite of how you feel right now, Mom. I've been feeling that way for at least 7 years now, in terms of the aches and such, not to mention just how uncomfortable being a buxom woman is." Of course he made sure to add the simple statement with more ways to beat it home just what I was now.
"Listen, if you don't like that body, then surely you can understand why I don't? Anyway, you will get used to it, you're a strong person. If I can do it, so can you." It was the most uplifting thing he had said to me up 'til now, which was more sad than anything else. "The most important thing is to continue to do what you have been doing before you got the real body, and just embrace it. I'm David, you're Cathy. You're MY mother, your brothers and sister are now your sons and daughter, that's just the facts now. I know it was difficult calling me David before, but I think it will be easier now that I look the part. I think calling yourself Cathy will be easier for you now, too." He ended his spiel by doing something which made my whole heart jump seemingly into my throat...
... he put a mirror up to my face. Seeing my mother's body out below me was enough to convince me, but if I had any doubt, it was gone the moment I saw my mother's tipped brown eyes staring back at me. Her eyes always made her look tired, like they were trying to lean right off of her face, it was slight, but that's always how I saw it. Her thin rigid nose with a ballooning tip, to the remarkably average but very pink lips just a midge below it, to her jaw which looked incredibly round or firm depending on which way she looked, as it seemed to mesh with her neck in certain lighting -- it was all my face now. Everything I tried to move, now reflected back to me in the mirror perfectly. In only moments I had seen more new faces I had never seen from my mother before, because... they were my expressions. "T-take that away, I already know what you look l--" I stopped and turned around.
My voice. It was my mother's voice. I had only just then begun to hear it, that wispy, air -- sometimes raspy voice of my mother's, I could hear it. Not only that, I felt it. I could feel my words vibrating through her throat and seeming to get stuck, coming packed with air, sometimes rumbling more than intended, and it all served to provide the voice I had grown so accustomed to ignoring or getting annoyed by, because it usually meant I was going to be ordered around. Now it was mine, EVERY time I spoke from now, I would have that quality to my voice. I wasn't sure why I thought that one quality wouldn't change, like I would somehow still be able to speak as Peter, but that was gone too. I looked, felt, sounded and if he got his way, would perhaps end up acting like... my mother.
"I'm still attractive, you don't have to look at my face like it's some hideous wreck." He sighed while grabbing me by my wrists, which had been gripped to my head in my panic, causing them to be ensconced in my mother's thick, soft, dark brown hair, which now fell into bits of my cleavage. "You're 41 and only have the slightest hint of wrinkles, and makeup covers them all perfectly. You should be happy, your complexion is great. Now come on, get dressed, we can't stay in here forever, Mom."
"Mom..." I murmured a few times as I took off the robe and put on the outfit my mother had come with. It was sad that I knew how to wear it, she taught me that beforehand, with the exact dress. She planned it. I felt so defeated as I stood up in her heels, struggling to balance, and already finding an instinct to flourish her long hair out of the way as I raised my head. "You look great in that, Mom." He said. I wanted to protest, but I would only be insulting myself if I did. What could I do? Shout "I don't want to be you!" and run off? If I wanted to do that, I should have done it before. I was in her body now, it was over, I was my mother, forever... there was no second chance or redo. I was a 41 year old mother, and as my... SON said, there was nothing I could do to ever change that.
At this point, there was really only one thing I could choose to do that would effect anything...