Hey Mariah

Harold looked at his reflection in the mirror and spend a few moments glancing first at the left, then right, and then back to the left side of his face. His hands, his ample breasts, the curve of his hips, everything about it screamed "woman" and every bit of it was both innately familiar and completely alien. Something his mother didn't raise her only son to experience ever, well, he was now standing there and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

"Holy jesus..." he muttered, hearing her voice coming from his mouth and his brain, slowed by the fog of changing, finally caught up to speed and he, for his part, smiled. Some people may have been freaked out by the prospect of ending up in the body of your sister but not him, especially since the alternative was to face **** and a painful one at that. Awkwardness or body pains from the medications he popped? That was a no-brainer. He would sit down and pee, pretend to be a dainty woman, even have sex with his brother in law if meant avoiding pain again.

"Hey, you done there?" came a call and Harold nodded and responded that he was just about, hearing the different voice coming from the room where Mariah had slipped in. With one last look, he turned and walked out of the bedroom and down the hall towards the one where his sister had gone into.

"You done in there?" he called out and as he stepped into the room, he stood and blinked. "Oh my..."