When Jeff and Henry returned home, with Jeff, still reveling in his new role as their mother, wasn’t ready to let the fun end just yet. Henry, clearly exhausted and still sulking from the day’s humiliations, kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch, muttering, “Finally, I can just chill.”
Jeff, wearing a sly grin, wasn’t about to let that happen. Standing tall, hands on his hips in a perfect imitation of their mom’s signature stance, he cleared his throat. “Not so fast, young man.”
Henry groaned, sitting up. “What now, Mom?”
“You’re filthy from all that running around today,” Jeff said, brushing some imaginary dirt off Henry’s shoulder. “I'm going to wash you in the bath, I don't think you wash yourself people and I feel the need to show how to wash like a big boy.”
Henry blinked, his face twisting into confusion. “you? Bath me? What? Mom, I’m not a little kid!”
“Oh, really?” Jeff teased, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow. “Because you’ve been acting like one all day. Now, off you go. And don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Ugh, fine,” Henry grumbled, dragging himself toward the bathroom. But before he could close the door behind him, Jeff slipped in, holding a towel. Henry tried again to get Jeff away again. “Mom, I can wash myself!”
Jeff stifled a laugh, knowing how mortified Henry must be. “Don’t be silly. I’ve seen you naked plenty of times before, haven’t I? Now, get those clothes off.”
Henry hesitated, but Jeff’s stern “mom look” was surprisingly enough to get his 10-year-old bro enough to comply. Reluctantly, he undressed, covering himself with his hands as he climbed into the tub. Jeff hummed cheerfully as he filled the water, grabbing a sponge and soap.
“This is so embarrassing,” Henry muttered, sinking as low into the bubbles as he could.
Jeff couldn’t resist adding to the humiliation. “Oh, stop pouting. You still look like my little baby boy,” he said, scrubbing Henry’s hair with exaggerated care. “Honestly, you’re so cute when you’re grumpy.”
Henry groaned loudly, his cheeks flushed. “Mom, stop saying stuff like that!”
Jeff chuckled but finished quickly, letting Henry do his boy parts with well, not letting this joke go too far, satisfied with how thoroughly embarrassed his little brother was. As Henry climbed out of the tub, Jeff handed him a towel, playfully patting his head. “There, all squeaky clean. Now off to bed.”
Henry’s jaw dropped. “Bed? Mom, it’s only six! My bedtime’s nine!”
“Not tonight, mister,” Jeff said, smiling sweetly. “It’s been a long day, and you need your rest. Now, go to bed, or you’re grounded.”
Henry looked shocked and ready to argue but ultimately stomped off to his room, muttering under his breath about how unfair everything was today.
Jeff didn’t realy care if Henry stayed up all night playing video games as long as he was out of sight. He had other plans now.
With the house quiet, Jeff decided it was time to enjoy some adult fun. Rifling through their mom’s liquor cabinet, he found a bottle of wine and poured himself a generous glass, he always wondered what it was like to get drunk. Sitting on the couch, he sipped the wine experimentally, wrinkling his nose at first but quickly warming up to the taste.
Before long, the wine kicked in, and Jeff found himself in a carefree, giddy mood. He wandered over to the stereo, flipping through his mom’s music collection until he found her favorite playlist. As the iconic opening notes of Dancing Queen filled the room, Jeff couldn’t help but sway to the beat.
“This is so cheesy,” he muttered, laughing to himself. But soon, he was fully lost in the music, dancing around the living room with abandon.
The feel of his mom’s body moving to the rhythm, the sway of her hips, and the bounce of her chest all felt strange but exhilarating. He even twirled and giggled, mimicking moves he’d seen her do before.
Song after song played, and Jeff’s inhibitions faded entirely. He sang along loudly and off-key, occasionally stopping to refill his wine glass. By the time Waterloo came on, he was spinning in circles, laughing until he tripped and collapsed onto the couch.
“Best night ever,” he slurred, barely able to keep his eyes open. Within minutes, he passed out, sprawled across the couch in a most unladylike position.
The next morning, Jeff awoke to the piercing light of the sun streaming through the window and the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Groaning, he rubbed his temples, trying to process the splitting headache and the events of the previous night.
When he finally opened his eyes, he froze. Standing over him was… his real mom, arms crossed, looking equal parts furious and bewildered.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding.
Jeff’s heart sank as realization hit him like a freight train. He looked down at himself, still in his mom’s body, wearing the same clothes from the day before.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered.