You've reversed too much

By the time your eyes finally open again, someone has moved you into your bedroom. You lie beneath the sheets, staring groggily up at the ceiling and trying to remember... Your head is throbbing... That voice you heard, what was it- wait. Your mother... Where is your mother? Is she alright?

Sitting up with a start, you find yourself face to face with a stranger. A tall, buxom, raven-haired girl, perhaps a few years younger than you, is sitting by your bedside. She's hardly dressed, wearing a fabric skirt and 'top' very similar to those your mom had on.

Very, very similar, in fact... Quite identical, on closer inspection...

Shit.

"Mother... Is that you..?" you stammer, rubbing at your aching forehead.

The young woman shrugs. "I gave birth to you, so I suppose I am. That won't happen for a while now, though... Even if it already did."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm younger now... Maybe eighteen years? Nineteen?" She shrugs again. "It's strange... I remember starting a family, raising you, growing old, but it's like a dream... Maybe it was a dream. I don't feel old. I feel like I did before, my body and my mind... When I try to recall what I was like a year ago, how I acted, it doesn't even seem like me. Hells, even my past week of debauchery seems more familiar... I'd rather be a gullible wench than a dreary old hag."

"Mom... Molly... Don't say that," you reply, swinging your feet onto the floor. "What I did, I did to save you from that fate... To try and change you back. I'm sorry that I went too far back, but maybe I can undo it, find some way--"

She shakes her head. "Are you kidding? This is perfect... I get to live my life again. Maybe do it better this time. I can't believe I wasted my youth, my best years..." Rising to her feet, your (former?) mother stares out the window. "I've got to get out of here. Before my... Ugh, my husband... Before he finds out, or you do something stupid like changing me back."

"What? No, Molly, you can't go anywhere. There's something very wrong going on, and I have to sort it all-" Your plea is cut off as she embraces you, pulling you into a passionate kiss. But before you have the chance to give in or protest, she releases you and steps back.

"Thank you, Jordan. If you weren't my son, I'd be tempted to throw you back on that bed and stay a while longer... You're a bit of a looker, after all, and it's been decades since I've had a real boyfriend." With that, she moves toward the door, intent on leaving.

As you watch her go, you realize that you've only got one way to stop her. She may be resisting the temptation to stay and fuck you, but if you commanded her, she'd have to do it. Still, no matter how young her figure and her attitude have become, she's still your mother... Is keeping her here worth crossing that boundary?