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Double Trouble 1

A man is accidentally transformed into an identical twin of his MILF coworker and struggles to find a way to change back in Double Trouble 1.

Jason and Marcy are coworkers and friends. Even though he’s in his mid-twenties and she’s in her late thirties and married with kids, they have a lot in common and think of each other as ‘work husband and wife’. Their conversation is easy and their flirtation is harmless. Mostly. There’s a bit of Jason that refuses to admit he’s attracted to her cute face and her curvy MILF figure.

He would never imagine that one day he would have her figure and be her twin, but that’s what happens when they run into a strange woman on the street who curses them. Thinking it’s a joke, Marcy accidentally activates the curse, instantly transforming Jason into her identical twin, clothes and all.

Jason can’t go home looking like this. His girlfriend wouldn’t believe him. With nowhere else to go, Marcy sneaks him into her house and hides him in the guest bedroom. All alone, Jason’s curiosity about his sensual new body gets the best of him and he explores himself fully.

All they have to do is find the woman and get her to change him back, right? But with two Marcy’s running around, it’s not going to be as easy as it seems.


Jason scooted his desk chair close to Marcy and leaned over to change the colors on her monitor, upping the contrast.

“There, that was really bugging me,” he said.

“Then don’t look at my screen so much!” Marcy teased him, laughing her beautiful tingling laugh.

“Your work’s more interesting than mine,” Jason grinned. “Besides, I’m just trying to protect your eyes.”

“Oh, well, thank you kind sir. What would I ever do without you?” she replied, her dark eyes twinkling with laughter.

“Probably have bad eyes.”

“Too late for that,” she said, chuckling again.

Jason rolled his chair back to his desk and leaned back in it, resting his lean hands in his lap. “Bet your eyes are better than mine.”

“No way.”

“Here,” Jason said, handing her his black-framed glasses. “Try ‘em.”

She took his glasses and slipped them on, blinking owlishly. “Oh my god, you are blind,” she laughed again.

He watched her with a grin. At 39 she was older than him by 15 years. But much cuter, with a gentle, motherly figure. Ample breasts that tugged gently at the white blouse she wore. Her black skirt clung to her wide hips, drawing Jason’s eye to her legs whenever she shifted (even though he knew it was wrong he couldn’t help it). Pretty face with a perfect button nose. Half-Fijian, with sun-kissed skin. She was always put together. Nails polished and painted. Outfit perfect. Long brunette hair silky and smoothed down to fall over her shoulders. Today she wore her hair in a ponytail that danced whenever she laughed. And he loved to make her laugh. She was married and he had a serious girlfriend, but they called each other ‘work spouses’. Just harmless flirting. Though, if Jason was being honest, there was a tiny undercurrent of serious flirting.

“The government lets you drive like this?” Marcy teased him once again, before handing his glasses back and wiping her eyes.

“It’s not that bad.” He popped them back on his face, getting a quick hit of her fruity hand lotion as he did so. The scent was delightful, sparking the briefest hint of longing inside him.

“Is your vision better or worse with your eyes closed?”

Jason snorted. “It’s a toss-up.”

She laughed again, covering her mouth and shaking, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him with amusement.

Jason stretched his lanky body, raising his long, lean arms above his head. He always felt awkward in his lanky body compared to Marcy’s easy grace. He couldn’t get his unruly blonde hair to cooperate in anything resembling a decent cut. His sense of style was ‘whatever was on sale’. Marcy was a little high maintenance for him and it would never work out between them, which made the flirting that much more harmless.

Jason’s watch was admonishing him that it was time to stand and he was sick of looking at a screen. Plus, it was close enough to noon anyway.

“All right,” Jason clapped his hands. “You ready for lunch?”

“Absolutely,” she nodded, sending the ponytail jiggling.

They clicked off their computers and strolled down to the lobby. Marcy stepped into the elevator first and Jason forced himself not to glance at her delightfully wiggly figure. She was shorter than him by a foot and as he leaned against the elevator wall across from her she played with the top button on her blouse, drawing Jason’s eye down her ample cleavage despite his best efforts. He would never say anything inappropriate, having the lessons of HR drilled into him and everyone else on an annual basis, but sometimes his eyes had a mind of their own.

“What do you feel like?” She asked him, still fiddling with her top button.

Jason focused on looking her in the eye and absolutely not letting his gaze swoop across her cute-as-hell nose down to her chest.

“Sushi?” He suggested.

“Sounds good.”

It was a warm spring day and the sidewalks of the city were bustling with the lunch crowd. Businesspeople come down from the towers along both sides of the street and formed orderly lines at the little cafes and lunch counters and food trucks nearby. The sushi place was a few blocks down from the engineering firm where they both worked and they walked in companionable silence.

As they waited in line, Marcy pulled out her phone and frowned at a text. “Oh, dear.”

“Trouble at home?” Jason asked, looking over at her, admiring for just a fraction of a second her perfect profile with the graceful chin and upturned nose.

“My daughter’s not feeling well. But I think she’s just got a test she doesn’t want to take,” Marcy replied, before typing out a reply, manicured nails flashing as her fingers danced across the phone.

Marcy had an 18 year old daughter who was, apparently, just like her mother in that she enjoyed buying clothes and looking pretty. Unlike her mother, though, she hadn’t yet learned to buckle down and study. Marcy often told Jason that if there was a class about getting your nails done, her daughter would ace it.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her to woman up and take the test.”

“Tough love.”

“I swear,” Marcy said, shaking her head and putting her phone away. “Sometimes she just needs someone to call her out on her shit.”

They reached the counter, where Jason added a collection of sushi to his plate before dribbling some soy sauce on top. He paid and grabbed some napkins and some chopsticks.

“Showoff,” Marcy smiled, the edges of her lips quirking up as she grabbed a fork instead.

“Getting it to my mouth with these makes me feel like I’ve really earned the right to eat.” Jason said.


Read the rest in Double Trouble 1.

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Freaking Friday

A mother and son accidentally swap bodies and have to learn to understand each other in order to swap back in Freaking Friday.

What if the universe decided to solve your problems the hard way?

Freaking Friday is a sizzling, adults-only erotic take on the classic story Freaky Friday, but with a mother and son body swap.

Rebecca is a curvy, warm-hearted single mom with a career she loves and a love life she has quietly given up on. Her son Colin is a smart, directionless college student on the verge of throwing his future away. The two of them can barely share a breakfast table without an argument erupting. They love each other deeply and understand each other not at all.

Then fate intervenes.

One ordinary morning, Colin wakes up in his mother’s soft, familiar – and suddenly enticing  – curves. Rebecca opens her eyes inside the lean, restless body of her twenty-year-old son. No explanation. No instructions. Just the jarring, intimate reality of living inside someone else’s skin.

Colin must navigate his mother’s world. Her job, her friendships, and the quietly persistent coworker who has been flirting with Rebecca for months and clearly wants to take things further. Rebecca steps into Colin’s life and finds herself face to face with the girl he has been too shy to pursue, now counting on her to make the move he never could.

Each of them is determined to do right by the other. But inhabiting a new body comes with unexpected discoveries about desire, about pleasure, and about the surprising joy of experiencing the world from a completely different perspective.

The mother and son body swap that was meant to teach them empathy ends up teaching them something far more intimate.


Colin

Loud banging on my bedroom door startles me awake.

“Get up, Colin,” my mom calls from the hallway. “You’re going to be late for class.”

How does she keep track of my course schedule?

She keeps knocking on the door until I call out in a scratchy morning voice, “Okay, I’m awake! Jesus.”

Finally, some fucking silence. I blink awake slowly. There’s a crick in my neck from where I’ve fallen asleep half-sitting up but slumped against my headboard. My video game controller is still in my hand from the night before, the game paused at a dialogue screen. My mouth tastes gross and I don’t think I brushed my teeth last night. I’m still wearing yesterday’s shirt. My laptop is propped open on the bed and when I open it to start browsing, the porn video from yesterday begins to autoplay. A woman loudly moans before I can shut the window. I hope mom didn’t hear it.

I rise and stretch, my shoulders popping, before schlumping to the bathroom. I’m desperately in need of a haircut. My normally short hair is spilling down over my ears but not in a stylish way. I haven’t shaved in a week, hoping that the ragged patches of scruff will somehow come together in a way that makes me look rugged rather than homeless. No luck so far.

I go through my short routine. Toothbrush. Deodorant. Comb through my hair. Good enough.

Returning to my bedroom, I step over the detritus on the floor. Mom hates the state of my room and makes me clean up on a weekly basis. I don’t see why I should when no one ever comes here but me? She’s constantly exhorting me to put some effort into useless things like that.

I bend to swipe my favorite shirt off the floor—the black one with the cool concentric electric blue design—but I remember that this morning is one of my two classes with Morgan. I’ve been crushing on her all semester and I think we’ve been flirting but I’m too nervous to confirm by asking her out. Instead, I crack jokes and try to read any hints in her body language or how she speaks to me, hoping she’ll touch my arm in a way that lets me know she’s into me, or say something subtle like ‘I’m really into you’. Morgan has featured in more than a few of my fantasies.

Mom’s washed my laundry but I’ve just left it in the basket on my bedroom floor. Now I dig through for an outfit. A better tee shirt. Clean jeans.

My mom is already in the kitchen when I get downstairs. She’s dressed for work in her familiar outfit of a black skirt and white button-down top, the top button open to allow a hint of her—shudder—cleavage. Her high-protein cottage cheese and fruit bowl is already prepared. She’s always on some diet or other. Constantly battling her weight, though to me it doesn’t seem like she’s fat. Full figured, sure. Butto the extent that I think about her shape at all—which is never—she just seems…mom-figured.

I loom over her from behind, still half asleep, while she opens the fridge and hands me the milk without a word. Even with her heels on I’m a good foot taller than her.

I pour myself a bowl of cereal with milk and slouch at the table. Mom sips her coffee and does that thing where she hovers in the kitchen, debating how to tell me something to which I may react poorly to. I tense involuntarily.

“Did you fall asleep playing video games again?” Mom asks in a tone that suggests she’s joking-but-not-really.

“Yes.”

She sighs. “If you’re going to be serious about your classes you need to get a good night’s sleep.”

Here we go.

“I’m fine, mom.” Even as I say it I feel like a kid instead of a twenty year old.

“It’s just that these classes are expensive and if you’re not going to focus then you should save the money and find something else to do.”

“I’m doing fine,” I say. And I am. C’s are fine.

“Do you want to stay in college? Or are you just putting off adulthood for a few more years?”

It’s a good question. It’s what dad would have wanted me to do but is it what I want to do? What makes me so irritated is that mom might be right. I don’t know. Certainly my motivation for today is to see Morgan.

“Can we talk about this later?” I say, putting my bowl in the sink and grabbing my backpack.

“It’s always later,” she sighs.

“I’m about to go to class.”

“I just think we should have this talk soon.”

“We can have it the same time we have the talk about your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend?”

“Jason.”

She blushes to the tip of her nose. A total tell. “We’re just work friends.”

“You talk about him a lot for just being work friends. Look, I don’t have anything against him but I’m a little old for a father figure.”

“Jason and I are just friends,” she repeats.

Now I’ve got her on the back foot and the conversation is no longer about me.

“Uh huh. What kind of benefits go with that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know…” I make a series of random noises and finger gestures.”

She huffs. “We’re going to talk about this sooner or later.”

“Great, I choose later. Bye.” I hurry out the door and to the bus stop.

Living off campus with mom saves a lot of money but it means a thirty minute bus ride. I think I’m the only student in the whole university who still lives with their parents. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

The bus ride gives me plenty of time to catch up on the videos I missed overnight. It’s only when the bus deposits me at the edge of campus that I realize I should have finished my essay. I hurry to the lecture hall, plop down on a seat, pull out my laptop and hastily dash off a thousand words as other students file in. Writing is one of the few things that has always come easily to me. So easy it takes almost no effort. Maybe why I enjoy it.

As I hit send—seconds before the deadline—a voice to my right pipes up.

“Cutting it a little close there, Colin.”

My entire body blossoms with warmth. I smile up at Morgan. Jesus, she’s adorable. A perfect face. Soft nose. Piercing jade green eyes. Long, brunette hair spilling down her shoulders. Gentle lips. I wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips.

“I like to live on the edge,” I smirk, playing it cool even while every part of me aches for her.

She smiles. That gorgeous, perfect smile. A hint of white teeth. The little dimples.


Read the rest here!