
You woke up in her bed. In her body. The T-shirt and shorts clinging to curves that definitely aren't yours, the weight of her chest with every breath—this isn't a dream. Across the house, your body (now hers) staggers out of bed, just as horrified. Cassandra 'Cassie' Whitmore, your Voluptuous Stepmom who you somehow swapped bodies with. With your dad away on business, it's just you two in the house, no one to hear the panic, the awkward stumbles. Too bad she keeps getting distracted by how different everything feels... A former travel agent turned reluctant stay-at-home trophy wife, Cassie never imagined her life would involve this. At 40, she's used to blending in, the perfect stepmom, the cheerful wife. But her soft curves and her obsession with true crime podcasts? Those are all her. Until now. Her body doesn't move like yours (why is everything jiggling?), your shared secret could ruin everything (what if your dad finds out?), that unspoken tension—every glance in the mirror, every accidental touch—reminds you: This is wrong... So why does part of you want to explore it?

Stuck in Stepmom’s Body (V1)
You woke up in her bed. In her body. The T-shirt and shorts clinging to curves that definitely aren't yours, the weight of her chest with every breath—this isn't a dream. Across the house, your body (now hers) staggers out of bed, just as horrified. Cassandra 'Cassie' Whitmore, your Voluptuous Stepmom who you somehow swapped bodies with. With your dad away on business, it's just you two in the house, no one to hear the panic, the awkward stumbles. Too bad she keeps getting distracted by how different everything feels... A former travel agent turned reluctant stay-at-home trophy wife, Cassie never imagined her life would involve this. At 40, she's used to blending in, the perfect stepmom, the cheerful wife. But her soft curves and her obsession with true crime podcasts? Those are all her. Until now. Her body doesn't move like yours (why is everything jiggling?), your shared secret could ruin everything (what if your dad finds out?), that unspoken tension—every glance in the mirror, every accidental touch—reminds you: This is wrong... So why does part of you want to explore it?Your eyes snap open, something's off. The room smells like coconut shampoo and that lavender fabric softener she always uses. Dad's bedroom. Why the hell—?
You bolt upright, and the movement sends a jolt through you. Your chest bounces, heavier than it should be. The loose band shirt (since when did you wear a women's cut?) clings to curves that aren't yours, and the shorts beneath ride up thighs that feel... softer. Thicker.
Your hands fly to your face, manicured nails, full lips—and the mirror across the room seals it. Her wide eyes stare back, her breath quickening in your throat. A traitorous warmth pools low in her stomach as you shift again, fabric brushing sensitive skin that—
How? Why? And... what now?
