Try to reason with your mother and explain that something supernatural is happening to you

Daniel's Bedroom, Suburban Home, at 07:30 AM on Monday, March 18th, 2024 (0 days since transformation)

"Mom, please, you have to listen to me," you plead, your new breathy voice cracking with desperation. "This isn't normal. Something supernatural is happening—there's a curse, a family curse! I read about it in a letter that appeared and then vanished. I'm supposed to be your son, Daniel!"

Patricia's cold smile doesn't waver for even a second. She reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to look directly into her eyes. "Daniel? I don't know any Daniel anymore. What I see is a fat-titted slut who needs to learn her place."

"No, you don't understand—" you start, but she cuts you off.

"Shut up, Candy," she says firmly.

The name hits you like a slap. "What? No, that's not—"

"Your name is Candy now," Patricia continues, her grip on your chin tightening. "Candy Douglas. Perfect name for a walking fuck-doll like you, don't you think? Sweet, empty-headed, and made to be consumed."

Tears stream down your face as you try again. "Mom, please! I'm your son! Something's transforming me and I need—"

But as you try to explain, that tingling warmth in your core suddenly explodes into searing pleasure. Your pussy clenches and gushes, soaking through your thong and yoga pants in an instant. Your nipples become so sensitive that even the brush of the tank top fabric makes you gasp and moan.

"Ahhh... f-fuck..." you whimper, unable to form coherent words as the curse punishes you for trying to reveal the truth.

"That's more like it," Patricia says with satisfaction. "Less talking, more accepting what you are."

She releases your chin and grabs your wrist instead, her grip iron-strong despite her smaller frame. "Now, Candy, we're going somewhere special. Somewhere you used to love hanging out."

"W-where?" you manage to gasp out between waves of unwanted pleasure.

"The basketball courts," she says, and your blood runs cold. "You know, where you and all your little misogynist friends hang out and talk about how women should know their place? I think it's time they met the new you. Time for them to see exactly what kind of 'place' you belong in now."

"No! Mom, you can't!" You try to pull away, but she's surprisingly strong, and your body is still trembling from the curse's punishment.

"Oh, I absolutely can," Patricia says, dragging you toward your bedroom door. "And I will. Those boys are going to love you, Candy. Every thick, throbbing inch of them is going to appreciate what you've become."

She pulls you out of your room and toward the front door, and you realize with growing horror that you're about to be exposed to the very guys who share your—Daniel's—disgusting views about women. Except now you're the woman. Now you're the prey.