The bedroom you grew up in

Giving one last look at the mysterious Charles, still wondering whether this entire experience was a very lucid dream, you decide to play his game one last time, having humored him up until this point. You sigh and close your eyes, a very familiar image running through our mind. One of home, nostalgia, and family.

You stand before the door, every detail of the bedroom you grew up in etched immaculately in your head: the painted walls covered in video game posters, the never-made bed with mismatched sheets, the polished computer desk where hours of labor were spent doing homework and watching porn. But you were asked to focus on the door and so you shift your focus, zooming in on the door with vivid detail. The chipping paint, having long lost its polish; the large gash your father made when the two of you were bringing in the new mattress a few years back; the countless marks you and mom drew as you got older, noting each new inch you grew.

Opening your eyes, you're still in Charles' hallway, the door still pristine and white. However, you blink once and it shifts before your eyes to a twin of the one you recreated in your mind. But that isn't even the weirdest thing.

Someone's knocking.

The sound shakes you from your singular focus and you feel your mind clarify; the same way it does when you come back from having zoned out and stared into nothingness for too long. It's so eerily similar that it begs the question: did that entire sequence with Charles even happen?

The insistent knocking becomes louder. "John! Open up!" your mother calls from beyond the chipped wood.

The sound of her voice awakening you fully, reality hits you like a wave: you're in your room, mom's at the door, and it's Monday morning. Like all other college students your age - it's time for school!

"What?" You yell louder than intended, pulling the door open to reveal your mother. When you see her, your first instinct is to immediately close it. You don't though, thankfully.

She'd gotten dressed for work, but everything about her outfit was wrong. The black satin dress was too short, both at the hips and bust. The latter was nearly bursting out, her chest being supported and pushed up by sudden hidden beneath. You'd feel bad for staring, had it not been for the large gemmed necklace that shined a deep violet resting neatly at the curve of her boobs, the glint naturally drawing any eye to her cleavage. The dress's hem was wide and frilly, no doubt designed to twirl and rise up the same way a schoolgirl skirt does whenever its wearer turned suddenly. She wasn't even wearing tights and, when she'd later leave and you'd see that dress twirl in the way that's teased men since time immemorial, you'd be sure she doesn't have anything underneath.

If you weren't certain it was Monday morning, you'd swear she was going to a club.

"Good! You're finally awake." She starts, seemingly oblivious to your silent inspection of her person. She tilts her head to the side, aiding her hands which are desperately trying to put on an earring. "I'm running a little late, so could you drive Julie to school this morning?"

"Suuuuuure." You stretch out, nodding dumbly, still processing the outfit your mom had decided to wear to work that morning. The fact you knew she had a presentation today and as such would constantly be spinning between the board members of her firm and the info she had on the board didn't help.

"Oh, good. Thank you dear!" She smiles and leaves you to your devices, turning away with a motion that causes her dress to turn your mental thoughts into reality. Whatever reply you had is lost in your throat as you catch an eyeful of flesh that should never be seen, forcing you to swallow down a groan. You stare at the sway of her hips as she vanishes down the stairs, your mother seemingly unaware or uncaring that your eyes followed her every move. You gulp. Loudly.

You're so shocked by her change in outfit and behavior that you barely register the sudden 'click' from a door down the hall and out emerges your younger sister. Hair wrapped in a white towel, she gives a curt morning greeting to your mother before making her way towards you, evidently heading to her room to change out of the second white towel that was wrapped around her waist.

It being immediately adjacent to yours, it's impossible for her to miss the utter shock in your expression, which causes her to pause at the door. "What's up bro?" She asks with genuine concern. "You seen look like you've seen a ghost. Or Nirvana. Can't really tell."

"I... Um..." You manage to stammer, finally looking away from the corner behind which your mom disappeared. You catch the smirk Julie seems to be trying to hide, only the faint creases of her cheeks betraying her. "Is mom acting any different today?" You eventually say, eyeing the highschool senior.

"Mom?" She repeats, turning back to where the older woman disappeared. "I don't think so. Why, did she do something weird?" Julie glances back at you, her brows worried in a frown.

"Her outfit..." You hesitate, unsure whether you should say anything else. But she catches your meaning and the grin that was hidden makes itself known.

"I know! Isn't it cute? I helped her pick it out the other day." Your sister beams, obviously proud. "She'll be turning so many heads!"

You swallow again, the prospect of your married mother doing that both unnerving and yet oddly thrilling. "Isn't it a bit... Um... Revealing?"

"Not really." Julie says with a shrug. "Could always be worse."

"What do yo-"

Her towel drops to the floor.

It all hits you at once: Breasts - large, firm and bouncy; hips - full and complimenting a curvaceous hourglass form; legs - long and shapely; pussy - shaven smooth, pink, and glistening. Overwhelmed by female flesh, your mind takes a perfect picture of your sister's nude form, one that you still see even after you close your eyes and turn away.

While your reaction was instantaneous, later you'll note that hers was delayed by a full second. Just long enough for you to ask yourself if the whole thing was deliberate. One full second. Then she screams.

"Don't look!" She yells, one hand shoving you into your door while the other dives to the floor, grabbing the fallen wet towel. In a flash she disappears into her room, leaving you standing shell-shocked with an image that you'll be able to perfectly recall for the rest of your days.

A single thought pierces your mind: Maybe Charles wasn't a figment of your imagination after all!