As the polished medallion exchanges hands from your sister to your mother, a sense of relief washes over you momentarily, but it quickly gives way to anxiety as you hear your mother's footsteps receding upstairs. The click of her shoes echoes through the house, signaling her return to her room. You strain to hear every word of the conversation unfolding above.
With bated breath, you overhear your mother's gentle yet firm admonishment to your dildo twin. "Now, I'm sure you're excited to get back to your own form, but remember this punishment the next time you step out of line with the medallion. And keep in mind that next time I'll let your sister use you as much as she wants to."
A soft, plushy sound follows, indicating the landing of something on your mother's bed. You can't help but deduce that it must be your twin dildo settling into place. Your heart races with the weight of the situation.
"Alright, here's the medallion, get to changing back," your mother instructs, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and impatience.
In the cramped space where you hide among your mother's delicate belongings, embarrassment and fear collide. Each passing moment amplifies the risk of her discovering the truth—that the dildo she had mistaken for you was nothing more than a mere piece of elongated plastic. Meanwhile, the dildo she's been using for her pleasure practically nonstop for a week is actually her son. It's an absurdly humiliating predicament that has left you torn between conflicting desires.
Part of you wishes that your mother won't uncover the truth, praying that this strange episode will simply fade away. Yet, there's another part of you that longs for an end to this charade—a revelation that would finally put an end to the masquerade of being a dildo. And yet another humiliating part of yourself wishes you could just carry on being your mother's tool of pleasure.
As you continue to eavesdrop on your mother's words from your concealed vantage point among your mother's delicate belongings, you strain to hear her next words. The tension in the room is palpable, and your heart pounds loudly in your “chest”. Moments pass, feeling like an eternity, until finally, your mother speaks again…