Sarah hastily threw back the comforter, only to reveal the sleeping form of her mother, 36 year old Susan McMillan. Susan looked very much like an older version of her daughter, with meticulously cared for honey golden blonde hair, a trim waist, and a face with full lips, button nose and elegant cheekbones. The biggest difference, beyond Susan's older age, was that the elder McMillan woman stood a few inches taller, at 5'10, and her bra size was a DD to Sarah's C. Susan looked incredible for her age, not that surprising for a former model, and she'd been mistaken for Sarah's older sister more than once.
It obviously wasn't surprising to find her mother in her own bed, but why was Sarah here? It was at that point Sarah began to realize how odd she felt. She felt heavy and achey, and all out of proportion. Looking down, she didn't see the baby doll tee and pink sweatpants she'd worn to sleep, instead finding the monogrammed silk pajamas of her father Roger McMillan, and more alarmingly, his 58 year old body as well.
She let out what should have been a girlish shriek, but ended up more like a pained moan in her father's deeper register, waking the sleeping form of her mother, and possibly other people in the house for that matter.
Susan looked at her, blinking her sleepy eyes in confusion before asking, "Mr. McMillan, how did I get here?"
Sarah was apoplectic. Why was she in her father's body, and who was currently in her mother's?
