Alec Ventura wondered why his Great Aunt Mona had so many long haired wigs in her bedroom chamber after he inherited her mansion unexpectedly. The clean-up seemed to go on forever.
“Holy shit, Dad,” his son Brian exclaimed as he sifted through her records. “This birth certificate is for a man – Maxwell J. Ventura! Born in 1948. I… I really don’t get what this means.”
“Does that mean – that my aunt was my uncle – and a drag queen? No wonder he – or she – kept to him – rather her - self!”
“Maybe. Heh – tell me,” Brian said with a playful smirk, “Am I pretty?” The young man slipped a fiery red wig with a snicker.
“Wow – Brian, I mean… Becky! You look hot! Let me try that,” Alec chuckled as he grabbed a light brunette number that would cascade down his back. “Hi, my name is Anna! How does my hair look?”
Suddenly, the room froze and the two felt a shift in their minds – their bodies –their attitudes – and their very desires.
“Mom, I love it, you look so hot,” cooed the now fully female Becky, a coed who was as leggy as Anna. “I think we two hot bitches are SO getting laid tonght!. Don’t you agree, Mom?”
“We better, baby girl,” the MILFish Anna grinned. “It’s been way too long since you and I got the cock we need. Let’s hit the club!”