Dude, where's my car?

It's a bad idea. I mean… she's your mother. But you're both so, so very horny…

You lick your lips, “Ah… I could really use…” you swallow, “...got any rubbers?”

“Yes!” Your mother jumps, grabs your hand, and runs to her bedroom… as you eagerly follow.

You go down the narrow hallway, past old family photos - just you and mom as the opposite gender as now, occasionally a friend or two - you don't pay much attention to them: You were here this morning, and have other priorities.

The bedroom is also spic and span. You watch as your mother puts on a rubber, and it's not long before you're on your back on the pink four poster bed, your mother deep inside you:

He thrusts rapidly and strongly, each powerful stroke sending shockwaves through your entire body and into the bed, making it creak in time with the wet squelching and slapping sounds. Your body responds just as powerfully, the pleasurable tension building in your middle, muddling your mind further as you moan , each thrust driving you to further heights of passion. His thrusts get faster, harder, and less controlled… and then he holds deep inside you, and you shudder all around his cock as he grunts.

The man… your mother… then pulls out entirely with a wet popping sound, and clambers to his feet, “Oh, that was good. Do you want to…” he trails off, looking down at himself.

In a blissful post-orgasmic haze, you follow his eyes down to his crotch, and that rod that felt oh so good inside you… with no condom.

You look down at yourself:

You're leaking.

You just stare for a bit, as does your mother. Neither of you say anything. It's actually the ring that breaks the silence.. and that only for you: “You might want to fish the latex out of yourself… oh, and that felt great, thank you.”

You take a deep breath as you get up, “I'll… go get it out? Umm.”

“Yeah,” your mother stares at your bare behind as you walk out.

You go to the bathroom and turn on the shower, stepping in, and covering your face with your hands:

“Oh what am I going to do? What did I do?” You mutter to yourself as you wash.

“Well, first you should probably pull the rubber out of yourself,” your current body mate answers, “the longer it's in there, the more sperm escape into your tissues.”

“Right…” you stick a finger in and start fishing around… which makes your knees go weak.

As you're breathing hard and moaning again, your hands starting to run over the same spot repeatedly, the dragon speaks up, "task at hand, unless you want a baby.”

That focuses you enough to get the job done… and then you pull down the shower head and do your best to rinse yourself out… which brings your knees to collapse and triggers _another_ pleasurable earthquake. You keep going with the flexible showerhead until the hot water tank runs out… then dry off, and stop. “What am I going to wear?”

“Well…” the ring considers, “...you have a female body, and there is another person in the house who won't be needing women's clothing anymore.”

“Wear mom's clothes?” You think about it, “I suppose… I'm not so sure they're going to fit, though.”

“Oh, that you should be able to fix that yourself,” the dragon chuckles, “it'll feel a little odd at first, but you're a shapeshifter. Shrinking your waist a little, pushing out your boobs and butt? A lot easier than the full body female to male thing you did for years.”

“Wait, you mean I can just…” you look down, think a bit, and your chest balloons out. You look at yourself in the mirror:

“Is it really that easy?”

“You'll have some trouble maintaining it at speed,” your teacher lectures, “switching your organs around for a different set is going to be difficult, and it takes a lot of practice and self-control to maintain a form that runs counter to your divinely assigned role in the oldest commandment when your body wants to obey…” he pauses, “...but yes, you're a natural shapeshifter. Simple proportion changes are trivial for you.”

Liking the view, you leave the boobs in place as you leave the bathroom, still naked, “Hey Mom?” You shout down the hall, “Can I have the clothes that don't fit you anymore?”

“I'm not sure how well….” your mother trails off as you round the corner and she sees you. “Okay, they might fit. Sure… I don't need them anymore.”

You start looking through your mom's clothes, and then come to a realization, “I have no idea how to put these on.”

“I can help with that…” your mother chuckles in a deep, throaty voice. “Here….” the two of you spend several minutes getting you dressed: Silky underwear, a pink dress… she cops quite a few feels of your chest with those big, strong, masculine hands, which you find you enjoy immensely. She also helps a little with your hair, and even makeup. After a while… you're decent:

“Now then…” she considers as she gets dressed in your old clothes, which are far too tight in her… him? “Where is my car?”