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Question: Story: Write me a story about 6 year old Dylan who lives with his 37 year old aunt Cara. Dylan's 34 year old mom Judith was in jail indefinitely and had never had the best reputation due to her addictions and her shoplifting problem. Cara, wasn't much better. She was a single woman and was addicted to cigarettes and alcohol often passing out in random rooms around the house. She had long blonde hair that was unkempt and blue eyes that still had lost their beauty. She wore feminine outfits that were worn but it didn't matter to her. Often wearing heels, flats, sandals or wedges or dresses, shorts shorts, tank tops and skirts or a simple bra and panties paired with leggings and an array of jewelry. Today wasn't the usual day though. As Dylan sat downstairs playing with his toys in the living room waiting for Cara to come down and at least try to make a dinner, he noticed it was nighttime outside and she still hadn't come downstairs. His stomach growling, Dylan reluctantly climbed the stairs not ready to face his aunt knowing how "weird" she looked and smelled as he described it in his little innocent way. Opening his aunt's door, he immediately heard the loud sound of his aunt snoring and smelled the strong scent of alcohol and tobacco in the room. Carefully walking towards his aunt's bed, he saw a half drank bottle of vodka on the ground next to her bed making him gag in disgust. Trying to shake Cara awake was pointless as she was deep in her sleep. As he went to leave, he accidentally tripped causing him to slip his tiny feet in a pair of black platform sandals Cara had just kicked off before she initially passed out. Seeing his aunt's sandals on his tiny feet grossed him out. Going to remove the sandals, he suddenly noticed his feet cracking and aging into Cara's until they looked exactly like hers. He tried removing the shoes but it was like they were glued to his feet. The changes accelerated as his legs feminized and matured as a tattoo of an angel appeared on his left ankle matching his aunt's tattoo. His body and chest matured and feminized. His arms matured and lengthened until he had his aunt's hands. His head and face changed into Cara's as his eyes turned blue and his hair turned long and blonde and dirty. His teeth turning yellow from the constant drinking and smoking. His voice maturing into Cara's slurred female pitch. His outfit turned into a red short sleeve plaid shirt and short shorts. He looked over at his sleeping aunt and noticed she was slowly fading and evaporating into a mist. Now realizing he was becoming his aunt's replacement, his only hope was that he would be a better aunt than his own aunt was. Suddenly, his memories started altering and changing. As he hoped to become a better aunt, his wishes were short-lived as he saw visions of himself smoking and drinking and puking and sleeping. Sadness and fear in his mind as he realized he was turning into the exact same terrible person. Eventually, his memories had completely altered and changed until he only remembered being Cara. The new Cara blinked in confusion as she stood in the middle of her bedroom wondering why she was awake. As she looked around her room, she took a step before almost tripping in her sandals before barely stopping herself from doing so. Cara slurred "I'm hungry. Should go downstairs and make food" Cara then grabbed her bottle of vodka opening it back up and taking a big gulp as she left her bedroom. Each step down the stairs was unsteady as she looked down at her platform sandals having trouble balancing in them. Facing the kitchen, Cara took a big step causing her to fall and for her platform sandals to come off her feet. As Cara sat up on the floor dizzy and drunk, she struggled eventually grabbing her platform sandals and sticking them back on her feet. Standing up and opening the fridge, Cara spotted the food she wanted. As she went to reach it, her vision became cloudy and she lost her footing and fell on the kitchen floor and fell asleep with the fridge door open having no memory of being her very own nephew and doomed the spend the rest of her life a woman named Cara who was battling addiction.
In a small, dilapidated house near the outskirts of the city, Dylan, a frail 6-year-old with sparkling eyes of innocence, was living an unconventional life. The boy, who should have been spending his days hopping, running, and playing, was often found sitting solemnly with his toy cars, waiting for his 37-year-old Aunt Cara to descend the stairs and make an attempt at dinner. Cara wasn't a picture of responsibility either. A single woman battling her demons of nicotine and alcohol addiction, she symbolized everything a protectress shouldn't be. Her beauty seeped away, buried under her unkempt blonde hair and her azure eyes, which once sparkled, carried a pallor of gloom. But self-perception carried little weight for her; she dressed in feminine outfits that were worn and scruffy but Cara was least bothered. One such day when the sun had set and the gloom of Cara's life had taken over the house, Dylan found himself sucked further into it. This night was different; his hungry stomach forced him to step into the unchartered territory of Aunt Cara's room. The room reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, making the innocent child wince. His careful steps led him to her bed where Cara was deep in her alcoholic slumber, indifferent to the world and to Dylan. Seeing her negligence manifest so visibly, Dylan heart ached, but his astonishment had just begun. Tripping over Cara's black platform sandals, Dylan experienced an inexplicable transformation. The shoes stuck to him, his six-year-old feet morphing to resemble Cara's. Before he could react, the transformation consumed him: his body matured, his eyes turned blue, his locks turned messy and blonde, and he smelled of liquor and smoke. The worst part, he had Aunt Cara's habits inked in him. As horrifying as his physical transformation was, it was the echoing loss of his memories that tormented Dylan the most. The dread of becoming a shell of his person, coupled with an existence filled with inebriation and negligence, was terrifying. But digging his nails into the reality, Dylan braced himself for his new life. The paradoxical life he was sucked in ran its course swiftly. Newly christened Cara woke up one afternoon, disoriented and perplexed. Confused by the unlikely hour of her wakening, she grabbed her bottle of vodka, taking a big gulp before heading towards the kitchen. The stairs wobbled under her misty vision and precarious balance, but eventually, she reached the kitchen. Her vision became muddy as she was about to reach for the food from the fridge, causing her to crash on the floor. She promptly nodded off, with the fridge door ajar and her memories of being young Dylan completely erased. Her existence as Aunt Cara, flawed and saddening, remained the reality she lived, trapped in the curse of addiction, yet completely oblivious to her eerie past.
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