Remove the ballgag.

"Are you my exact copy?" Alison mused aloud to herself, her fingers still caressing Walison's firm, rounded buttocks. "Is it vain of me to say this ass is magnificent?"

"Mmmph mmmh," Walison wriggled under the ticklish stroking of her butt, unable to answer coherently through the ballgag.

"Oh, of course, you cannot answer," Alison giggled to herself. She patted the rounded cheek beneath her hand. "I suppose to get to the bottom of this mystery, I should ungag you."

Alison unbuckled the strap at the rear of Walison's head and gently pulled the ball free that was filling and stretching her duplicate's mouth wide. For a moment, Walison remained silent, aware her voice would betray her identity. She had pulled the ropes tight when she had tied her ankles and wrists; freeing herself would take much longer than the tying, and the real Alison could easily prevent that.

"Thank you," Walison said cautiously, her voice that of a middle-aged man in stark contrast to the teenage girl's body she inhabited.

Alison's eyes went wide at the perplexing and incongruous sound as Walison spoke. She slipped from the bed and crouched beside it, her face inches from Walison's as she studied her curiously. The girl must be stronger in heart and mind than she appeared, Walison thought to herself, no hysterics or fear, only wonder and inquisitive speculation showed on her exquisitely beautiful face. A face she now wore, which, in contrast, had a fearful and embarrassed expression. At that moment, Peter reentered the bedroom, the search for his father, of course, unsuccessful.

"I can't find my dad anywhere, Alison," He reported, looking down at the pair with a reddened face, partly caused by embarrassment at Walison's nudity and partly from arousal caused by her lush and hogcuffed form.

"I have found him, or rather her," Alison giggled again, a sly smile on her pretty face. "I don't know how this was done, but she is your father."