2 Long weeks later....

I managed to wait a few weeks before I couldn’t resist the urges further and decided to use the ray gun again. I was waiting in the living room for my mom to get home from work. When I heard the front door close and my mom dropping her purse on the floor, I got into firing position behind one of the couches and waited for her to enter or pass the room. As I heard the clicks of her heels get louder, I braced myself. The instant she stepped into my line of sight, I zapped her, then eagerly dressed in her skin. The second I zipped up the costume her tiredness washed over me like a blanket. My feet ached from the heels and all I wanted to do was zone out. Apparently, these mental changes worked both ways.

The first thing I wanted to do was get comfortable. My mom’s body was wound tight, every muscle coiled like a spring. I needed to unwind her, to ease the tension that had built up throughout the day. I started with her shoes, I leaned back against the wall of the foyer to help me balance and crouched slightly as I unbuckled the straps of her heels. The relief was immediate, a sweet release as her feet were freed from their confines. I sighed—a soft, feminine sound that made me smile—and kicked off the shoes, wiggling her toes against the cool floor.

I picked up the high heels and brought left them at the bottom of the stairs. As I put them down, I marveled at the fact that my mother wore shoes like this to work every day and how uncomfortable they must be.

Next, was the bra. I could feel it digging into my shoulders, the straps pressing into my skin. I reached back, fumbling slightly, and unhooked it through my mom’s blouse. The tight band around my chest loosened, and I pulled it out from under her blouse, letting it drop to the floor. My breasts felt heavy, the weight of them mixed with the exhaustion of the day added a new sensation that made me close my eyes and take a deep breath. I cupped my mom’s breasts lightly, relieving its weight from my now smaller frame.

The tights came next. They clung to my legs, the fabric smooth and cool against my fingers. I rolled them down slowly, savoring the sensation of the material sliding over my new skin. When they were off, I stretched, feeling the freedom in my legs, the way her muscles loosened without the constriction of the tights.

Finally, the skirt. It was tight, a pencil skirt that hugged her hips and thighs. I unzipped it slowly, the sound sharp in the quiet room. I felt my insides move as they returned to their natural spot in my mom’s body. I was able to take a deep breath and a sigh of relief. The skirt was able to stay up thanks to my mom’s incredible curves keeping it firmly in place.

I made my way into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine and lounged back on plush sofa chair in the living room. I propped my feet up on the arms of the chair and idly stroked myself as the wine warmed my mind and my fingers warmed my body. After bringing myself to a gentle orgasm, I knew it was time to continue my mom’s daily routine, dinner still had to be made, and she still had to go to the gym.

I decided to prep dinner first and lifted myself out of the warm sofa. I felt it was only fit to remove my clothes since I didn’t want to ruin the beautiful office clothing my mom chose that day. After I stripped naked, I moved into the kitchen where I put on an apron and began cooking dinner. When dinner was ready, I carefully set it aside to cool so it can be warmed up later. As I looked at the kitchen clock and saw it was nearly time to head to the gym class she normally went to, I felt another wave of exhaustion wash over me. I reluctantly dressed her in one of the outfits I bought a few weeks ago, a pair of black leggings and a fitted tank top. Perfect, I thought, pulling them from the hanger. I dressed slowly, savoring the way the fabric hugged her curves, the way my skin tingled as I adjusted the straps of the sports bra as it gently hugged my large perky tits. As I finished putting her sneakers on, I grabbed a water bottle and headed out the door.