His Mother

He was no longer in his house. To him that was a minor detail, though, as he was also no longer himself. He was his mother. He recognized the office as hers. He was sitting behind her desk, legs crossed facing the screen of her laptop which had some spreadsheet open whose data he could only hope to interpret. She had been wearing a skirt suit when she had left for work that morning, and now he had inherited it. He smiled. Sure, this was pretty weird, but he was just perverted enough to be getting a kick out of it. Besides, what kind of hijinx could he get into as his own mother?