Chapter XIII
"Maturing"
Part 45
Mrs. Swanson staggered across the Outlet tiles like a newborn fawn in her 4 inch heels, her brain still refusing to process what the fuck was happening. Instinct kept reaching for Anna’s hand, some desperate lifeline to reality—only to remember that hand was busy clutching the overpriced little bag Anna had shoved at her like a “cherry on top” of this humiliating transformation.
Platinum hair extensions swayed against the expensive coat she never would’ve picked for herself. Every clack of her heels echoed in her skull, a mocking reminder that she wasn’t just walking—she was strutting, almost like some goddamn trophy wife. And beside her? Her own daughter, looking like she’d just stepped off a porn set, tits bouncing like they were trying to make a break for it.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Some kind of psychotic episode? A nervous breakdown? Maybe she’d actually cracked her skull on the pavement, and this was just her dying brain conjuring up the worst possible nightmare. Yeah. That had to be it.
Todd Hill
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