The amazons slipped past the old beat up fence into the weed infested yard of their drunkard neighbor. He was always oogling the women passing in front of his yard, especially Flynne and her wife when they kissed. Telling him off only made him disgustingly “bold” for lack of a better word. He’d flip the bird, pull down his pants to shake his stumpy little... bit, even trying to go and grope them if he was really drunk.
“Hold up, someone’s coming!” Flynne yelled as she pulled Willa behind a beat up, rusty mower.
Through the door strolled a girl around Ronalee’s age, deep red hair and a hefty bust pressing against a blue hoodie.
“Missy, where the hell have you-“ Clayton started “WHAT THE FUCK? Why are you dressed like that?”
“As if you care!” Missy spat “You soooo need to get your shit together!”
That must be his daughter; their fights always got loud, but this was a whole other level!
“Oh that’s fuckin’ rich! You whoring around with those little skanks and I need to-“
Clayton was cut off with a slap across the mouth.
“I’m done with your crap.” Missy coldly replied, “I always wanted a mom more anyway.”
Clayton went red in the face as his lips suddenly sealed shut and plumped up.
Flynne and Willa watched as Clayton writhed on the dirty floor in pain, his greasy beard falling out like his body hair. They could tell he was confused as his hair grew long and turned a bright cinnamon hue and his flabby arms slimmed down.
Suddenly the house itself began to be reshaped, the fence straightening out and turning white as all the weeds gave way to neatly cut grass and bright full rose bushes.
Inside, Clayton clutched his burning crotch as all the filth and muck on the floor seemed to scrub away like magic, spreading across the walls as they got some clean pink flamingo wallpaper. His pecs burst into DDDs as his waist crunched in, his clothes melting into a neat red dress as an apron appeared over top. The dishes became washed, his dirty magazines turned to novels, the house repaired itself as Clayton butt inflated as his mind faded.
It suddenly stopped, and they found themselves before a neat little house with a nice smell inside.
They watched Missy hug a busty caricature of the mom you’d see in an old sitcom.
“Hi sweetie, dinner’s on the table.” Claire smiled as she pecked her daughter on the lips.
“Thanks Mom.” Missy blushed with a smile.
The Amazons knelt down completely dumbfounded...