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Question: The year is 2021. Write me a long and thorough and detailed story the way I want about a random 6 year old boy with a description of the boy's name, age mentioned, height, weight, birthday, birth year, what state he's from, hair color and style and eye color. His young mom's name, age mentioned, height, weight, birthday, birth year, hair color and style and eye color. His young dad whose no longer in his life's name, age mentioned, height, weight, birthday, birth year, hair color and style and eye color. His young aunt's name, age mentioned, height, weight, birthday, birth year, hair color and style and eye color. His young uncle whose busy doing other stuff's name, age mentioned, height, weight, birthday, birth year, hair color and style and eye color. His grandma's name, age mentioned, height, weight, birthday being after June, birth year mentioned, hair color and style and eye color. Have him kick off his shoes and socks suddenly feeling pain in his feet. Have him be walking home through a trail in the woods when he stumbled upon a backpack full of skimpy women's clothes and heels and sandals and wedges with descriptions of all the clothing and shoes and where they were from. Have the boy notice a purse nearby with cigarettes and a lighter, a torn old wallet and empty feminine hygiene boxes and gum. Have the boy say how weird and scary the stuff is and have it be in quoted text and with a lisp. Have him be walking quickly away with his head held high not looking at the ground when he tripped over something. Have him look down realizing he tripped over an old gross pair of wedge sandals somehow managing to slip his feet into them by accident with a description of where the gross shoes came from. Have him remove the wedge sandals when his clothing evaporated and disappeared. Have him notice his feet cracking and aging into dirt covered nasty female feet with a description of what his new feet looked like. Have the boy start crying saying how he's gonna miss mommy and auntie so much and he didn't do anything wrong and have it be in quoted text with a lisp. Have the changes continue up his legs as his whole body morphed into a decrepit looking woman. Have a torn skimpy crop top and very short shorts form on him as his skin aged and got a dirt coat over it with numerous bruises and cuts. Have his face morph as his hair grew long and matted with a description of his hair and his teeth slowly disappearing. Have him slowly try to say goodbye to his mommy and grandma. Have his memories start changing into the woman's. Have his final quote of missing his mom and grandma and wanting to go home morph into a ramble about getting screwed out of money by an unnamed woman she met recently and have it be in quoted text with the quote changing midway through. Reveal the boy had turned into a homeless woman. Reveal the woman's name, age being somewhere in her 40s, height, weight, birthday, birth year, how long she had homeless for and why. Have the woman spot her wedge sandals rushing over to them. Have her rant about who touched them and they weren't in her bag and have it be in quoted text mentioning how she got them from somewhere gross. Have her pick up walking somewhere and slipping them on with a step by step process of how she put on her wedge sandals. Have her then grab her purse throwing it over her shoulder and have her close up her backpack hiding it again. Have her say how she really wished people wouldn't touch her stuff and leave her shit alone and have it be in quoted text cussing a lot before walking off having no memory of being a 6 year old boy.
The year is 2021. Enter an energetic and avid six-year-old boy named Tommy. Tommy, born on August 17th, 2015, stood a modest three feet five inches tall, and weighed a healthy forty pounds. He hailed from the bustling state of Texas, his brown hair had a mop-top style, a homage to the Beatles, and he had the most striking blue eyes, vibrant as a summer sky. Tommy's mother, Jessica, was a petite five foot two inches tall, and a lithe one hundred and ten pounds. Celebrating her 30th birthday on February 15, 1991, she kept her chocolaty locks in a stylish bob, and was known for her captivating green eyes that shimmered with warmth. Tommy's father, Rick, despite no longer being in Tommy's life, was once an undeniable presence. He stood a towering six foot three inches, with his weight hovering slightly above two hundred pounds on his birthday on April 11, 1991, sharing the same birth year as Jessica but he was older by a couple of months. His wavy jet-black hair and deep-set brown eyes had faded into distant memories for Tommy. Tommy's aunt, Miranda, born on January 12, 1993, was a lively 28-year-old with a height of five foot five inches and weighed about one hundred and twenty pounds. She had radiant red hair styled in rebellious waves cascading down to her shoulders and enchanting hazel eyes that were always full of mirth. Tommy's busy uncle Adam, born March 7, 1988, stood six foot tall with a weight of one hundred and eighty pounds. He sported a stylish crew-cut hair that had the color of corn silk, and dark brown eyes that were always focused, reflecting his non-stop lifestyle. The matriarch of the family, Grandma Marlyn, the venerable 68-year-old, a gentle titan at five foot seven inches, born on August 2, 1953, had steel-gray hair styled in a short, neat bob. The years had done little to dim the lively blue of her eyes, although they were much softer, warm with the wisdom that came with age. One sunny afternoon, Tommy, the reckless youth, kicked off his shoes and socks; his feet were throbbing painfully due to a mishap during one of his mighty adventures. Helplessly, he found his way through a familiar trail in the woods on his way home. Suddenly, a neatly stashed backpack caught his attention. It was laden with an assortment of skimpy women's clothing, acquired from an array of department stores scattered across the country. A variety of high heels, sandals, and wedges spilled out; each pair carrying a story of their own, echoing the tales from boulevards of New York to the nightlife vibes of Las Vegas, each one differing in material, height, and style. Wedged between the pieces of clothing was a small crimson purse that held a pack of cigarettes, a worn-out lighter, an old wallet, and empty boxes that once held feminine hygiene products, along with a pack of spearmint gum. "W-What is all this weird scary stuff doing here?" Tommy lisped, his blue eyes wide with confusion and a burgeoning sense of fear. Bravely, he pushed through the disturbing sight and walked away, head held high in a borrowed sense of valor. In his hurried escape, Tommy tripped over an old pair of wedges half-buried under leaves. Stumbling, his feet slid into them by accident. These gross shoes were an old, discarded pair from a popular yet questionable Chicago thrift store. Realizing what had happened, Tommy quickly removed them. But then, a strange phenomenon occurred; his clothing vanished and his young feet suddenly morphed into cracked, dirt-covered, calloused feet of a woman. Numb with shock, Tommy's little voice broke out into a sob, "Why is this happening? I didn't do anything wrong! I...I'm gonna miss Ma and Auntie Miranda so much," he cried, his innocent lisp now overwhelmed with heart-tugging fear. Unfortunately, the eerie transformation didn't stop there. The changes journeyed up his legs, and his whole body morphed petrifyingly from a lively six-year-old boy to a haggard, decrepit-looking woman. A torn, skimpy crop top and ridiculously short shorts replaced his clothing. His new skin reflected an aged woman’s life, rough and dirtied, a canvas etched with numerous cuts and bruises. His hair grew long, matted and unkempt while his teeth started to fall out, leaving behind a sorrowful semblance of a once joyous boy. "S-Say goodby… bye, Ma, Grannies?" His choked whisper was barely audible as despair threatened to consume him. Eerily, his memories interrogated his senses and began morphing his six-year-old experiences into the bitter and tarnished memories of the woman he was turning into. "I miss my ma... I wanna go home... But that woman, she did me dirty, she took my dough...” His innocent lamentation morphed midway into an adult-like rant revealing tales of deceit and betrayal. Tommy was no longer existing. In his place stood Beth, a grimy, homeless woman with dirty blonde hair, born on November 1, 1980, aged 40, approximately five foot six inches, and weighed almost one hundred and seventy pounds. For the last five years, her home was the uninviting streets due to a series of unfortunate events involving drug abuse and theft. Spotting her wedges, she rushed over to them, cursing loudly, "Who the hell has been messing with my stuff? They're from that sketchy place down in Chicago. I don't like people touching my shit." Gathering her belongings, she secured them in her backpack, thrown over her lean frame, and grumbled about the audacity of people touching her stuff. With a practiced hand, she slipped on her wedges, one foot after the other, the familiar feel serving as a reminder of their journeys together. Her rant echoed through the empty woods as she stomped away, leaving behind no traces of the joy-filled, naive six-year-old boy known as Tommy.
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