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Question: Story: Write me a story the way I write about a random 6 year old boy with a description of what he's doing, what he looks like, where he's from and what he's wearing as he goes to bed. Please have him wake up in the body of Marilyn Monroe wearing something iconic including a pair of heels. Please have the boy stumble to a nearby mirror and say "Mommy?" in Marilyn's voice saying it just like Marilyn would tilting her head up and smiling just like Marilyn scaring him as he couldn't control it. Please have another woman dressed similar to Marilyn walk up to him and say a compliment to Marilyn. Please have the boy say the quote "You're not mommy" in Marilyn's breathy tone as he waited for his mom to get him not knowing she wasn't even born yet.
Once upon a time, in a small town in Indiana lived a lively 6-year-old boy named Matthew. He was an adorable child, with golden curls cascading over his forehead, eyes as sparkling as the clear blue afternoon sky, always dancing with curiosity. He had a charming sprinkle of freckles across his nose, a sweet, wide smile that revealed a couple of missing front teeth, and a laughter that was infectious. Every night, he would snuggle into his soft Lightning McQueen pajamas, the red and blue clashing against his fair skin as he prepared for bedtime. One such night, after being lulled by his mom's comforting lullabies, he succumbed to the night's embrace, his soft snore filling the quiet room. However, something extraordinary happened that night. As daylight erupted, Matthew fluttered open his eyes to notice he was no longer in his room, but in a lavish, exquisite suite with mirrored walls. Confused, he sat up, feeling an unfamiliar weight on his chest and a tightness around his waist. He got a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and instead of his usual self, what he saw was the stunning image of Marilyn Monroe. In disbelief, Matthew - or rather Marilyn, stumbled toward the mirror in a fitted, shimmery, pleated white dress that hugged his new curves, and a pair of stiletto heels that left him teetering. He touched the mirror, his red lips parting as he whispered in her sultry, signature breathy voice, "Mommy?" He even tilted his head up and gave a radiant smile, although the terror in his eyes was palpable. It was an uncontrollable act, just like the embodiment of Marilyn herself. Suddenly, another woman wearing a similar iconic dress, who could have passed for Marilyn's twin walked up to him – her look similar but not quite as striking. She eyed Matthew up and down before exclaiming with a flirtatious wink, "Darling, you look absolutely sensational today, even more than usual!" With wide eyes, Matthew looked at the woman. Uncertain and scared, he echoed in Marilyn's breathy tone, "You're not mommy." His six-year-old heart ached for the comfort of his mother who, unbeknownst to him wasn't yet born in this era of glitz and glamour. The confusion and bewilderment clouded his mind as he sat in the mirror waiting, hoping to return to the simplicity and familiarity of his 6-year-old life.
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