Ethan Bennett

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of dishes as Ethan washed up after dinner. His mom, Claire, was still at the office—again. She was a high-powered lawyer, always buried under mountains of paperwork, court dates, and client meetings. Ethan had long since stopped counting the number of times she’d missed his soccer games, school plays, or even just dinner. He loved her, but he couldn’t help feeling like her career had stolen her away from him.

He dried his hands and slumped onto the couch, pulling out his phone. He scrolled aimlessly through social media, his mind wandering. He wished things were different. He wished his mom could relax, enjoy life, and be there for him. He wished she hadn’t sacrificed so much for her career.

As he swiped through his apps, something caught his eye—a new icon he didn’t recognize. It was a simple, sleek design: a glowing pencil hovering over a globe. The name beneath it read Reality Edit App. Ethan frowned. He didn’t remember downloading this. Curious, he tapped the icon.

The app opened to a minimalist interface. A message popped up:

Welcome to Reality Edit App.

Please select a target within your vicinity.

Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What the hell is this?” he muttered. He glanced around the empty living room. He was the only person at home, his dad was out of town on business. Still, he tapped the Select Target button.

A list of names of people who were supposedly in the vicinity appeared, each accompanied by a photo. Ethan’s eyes widened when he saw his mom’s name at the top: Claire Bennett. Her professional headshot stared back at him, her hair perfectly styled, her expression serious and focused.

“No way,” Ethan whispered. He tapped her name, and a new screen appeared, filled with information about her. Her age, occupation, education, even her hobbies—everything was there, laid out in neat, editable text.

Ethan’s heart raced. This had to be some kind of joke, right? But as he scrolled through the details, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was real. He hesitated, his finger hovering over the Edit button. What if he could change things? What if he could give his mom the life she deserved—one without all the stress and pressure?

He tapped Edit and selected Education. The app displayed a sentence:

Claire Bennett graduated from Harvard Law School with honours.

Ethan stared at the words. This was it. This was the moment that had defined her life, the moment that had set her on the path to becoming a workaholic lawyer. What if she hadn’t gone to law school? What if she’d dropped out of high school instead? Maybe then she would’ve had a simpler, happier life.

With a deep breath, Ethan edited the sentence:

Claire Bennett dropped out of high school and never pursued higher education.

He hesitated for a moment, then tapped Confirm. The app glowed brightly, and for a split second, the world seemed to shimmer. Ethan blinked, and everything was… different.

Claire Bennett was driving home from the office, her mind racing with thoughts of the case she was working on. She was exhausted, her shoulders tense from hours hunched over her desk. She just wanted to get home, pour herself a glass of wine, and collapse on the couch.

But as she turned onto her street, something felt… off. Her hands on the steering wheel felt smaller, her nails longer and painted a bright pink. She frowned, glancing down at herself. Her blazer and pencil skirt had been replaced by a tight, low-cut top and a miniskirt that barely covered her thighs. Her legs, now encased in fishnet stockings, looked longer, smoother, and more toned than she remembered.

“What the hell?” she muttered, her voice higher-pitched and more breathy than usual. She pulled over, her heart racing as she caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. Her hair, once a sleek bob, was now a cascade of blonde curls. Her lips were plump and glossy, her eyeshadow heavy and dramatic. She looked like… a bimbo.

“This isn’t happening,” she whispered, her mind reeling. But as she sat there, her memories began to shift. The long hours at the office, the late nights studying for the bar exam, the years of hard work and sacrifice—it all faded away, replaced by a hazy, carefree existence. She remembered dropping out of high school, partying with friends, and eventually marrying a wealthy older man who spoiled her rotten. She was a trophy wife, living a life of luxury and leisure.

Claire’s breath quickened as she felt her body changing. Her chest swelled, her breasts growing larger and heavier until they strained against her top. She gasped, her hands flying to her chest as her nipples hardened, sensitive and aching. Her once-modest B-cups ballooned into massive D-cups, then E-cups, and finally settled into voluptuous F-cups that jiggled with every breath. The fabric of her top stretched to its limits, her cleavage spilling out as her breasts became impossibly round and perky.

“No, no, no!” she cried, but her protests were cut short as a wave of pleasure washed over her. Her pussy throbbed, wet and needy, as if begging to be touched. She squirmed in her seat, her mind clouded with lustful thoughts. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this… alive.

Her waist cinched in, her ribs shifting as her stomach flattened into a toned, hourglass figure. Her hips widened, her ass growing rounder and fuller until it was a perfect, jiggling bubble butt. She groaned, her hands instinctively reaching back to feel the soft, plump flesh. Her ass was now a work of art, perfectly shaped and impossibly firm, yet soft to the touch. It strained against her miniskirt, threatening to burst free with every movement.

Claire’s legs grew longer and leaner, her thighs thickening with soft, supple fat that jiggled with every shift of her weight. Her skin smoothed out, becoming flawless and glowing, her complexion now a creamy, sun-kissed tone. She felt a strange warmth spread through her body, her senses heightened as her new curves demanded attention.

Her mind continued to shift, her thoughts becoming simpler, more focused on pleasure and indulgence. She remembered her life as a trophy wife—spending her days shopping, getting pampered at the spa, and attending lavish parties. She was the envy of every woman and the desire of every man. Her husband adored her, showering her with gifts and attention. She had everything she could ever want… except for one thing.

Claire’s pussy ached, her body craving the touch of a man. She bit her plump lower lip, her mind filled with images of being taken, dominated, and pleasured. She wanted—no, needed—to feel a man inside her, filling her up and making her scream with ecstasy.

As her transformation completed, Claire’s car began to change as well. The modest sedan she had been driving shimmered and morphed into a sleek, black G-Wagon. The interior became luxurious, with leather seats and a state-of-the-art sound system. The scent of new car and expensive perfume filled the air, completing her new reality.

Claire—no longer the high-powered lawyer, but now the ultimate bimbo trophy wife—smiled to herself as she adjusted the rearview mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, a perfect blend of innocence and seduction. She giggled, her voice high-pitched and playful, as she put the car in drive and continued down the road.

Her original mind was gone, replaced by the carefree, pleasure-seeking persona of the new Claire. She didn’t miss or even remember her old life. Why would she? She had everything she could ever want—beauty, wealth, and the promise of endless pleasure.

As she drove, she couldn’t wait to get home and show her husband just how much she appreciated him. After all, what good was a trophy wife if she didn’t know how to please her man?