After their rather... unconventional morning routine, Vivian absolutely insisted on showering together. Angela, thoroughly worn down and maybe just a little intrigued by this bizarre new dynamic, finally relented. Predictably, the shower took forever. While there was no outright penetration, Vivian engaged in what could only be described as 'aggressive cuddling,' hands roaming freely, lips planting kisses everywhere, generally taking liberties that made Angela oscillate between exasperated sighs and reluctant shivers of pleasure.
Angela maintained a facade of mild annoyance, batting Vivian's hands away half-heartedly, but inwardly, she found herself… enjoying it. The sheer, unadulterated adoration radiating from Vivian was intoxicating. How long had it been since someone looked at her with such naked desire, such possessive intensity? Years. Decades, maybe? This wasn't just a child's affection; it was bordering on obsessive fixation, and it plugged a hole in Angela's soul she hadn't even realized was gaping. It felt… young. Like first love, raw and overwhelming, albeit profoundly strange given the context.
"Screw it," Angela decided somewhere amidst the steam and Vivian's insistent nuzzling against her wet skin. "This crazy kid wants to be my lover? My husband? Fine. Let her be my husband." She wasn't some prim, repressed suburbanite. She ran an adult toy company, for god's sake. And Vivian… Vivian was clearly something else entirely. Fighting this, enforcing societal norms on a being who could literally reshape reality at will… seemed pointless, stressful, and ultimately, cruel. Besides, the undeniable truth? Angela loved her daughter fiercely, and that love now had a disturbing, undeniable carnal edge. Resisting felt… dishonest.
Finally emerging from the bathroom, Angela slipped into a simple black satin chemise, thin straps highlighting her shoulders, the soft fabric skimming her curves. She skipped the bra, her nipples clearly outlined beneath the dark material. Vivian, meanwhile, pulled on loose-fitting sleep shorts and a matching camisole top – one picture of sultry maturity, the other pure, youthful innocence… mostly.
"Whatcha looking at now, huh?" Angela teased, catching Vivian staring again, her gaze intense.
"Wife," Vivian sighed, stepping forward, wrapping her arms around Angela's waist. "You're so damn beautiful." Her current height still meant her face was buried right between Angela's breasts. Perfect.
Angela chuckled, running a hand through Vivian's damp hair. "My little Husband is quite the looker herself, you know."
"Haha! Hearing you say that makes me so happy, Wife!"
"Hehehe, Husband… My sweet little Husband."
"Wife!"
They shared a few more affectionate kisses and cuddles.
"Okay, okay," Angela finally disentangled herself. "Mommy needs to make breakfast. Go play for a bit."
"Okay!"
As Angela headed to the kitchen, Vivian made a beeline for a specific door down the hallway. A room Angela had always forbidden both Vivian and Jessica from entering. The only locked door in the apartment. But Vivian wasn't just 'Vivian' anymore. With Pixel integrated into the home network via the system, the digital lock was laughably easy to bypass. Click.
The door swung open. Vivian stepped inside.
"Whoa…"
It was… intense. Part storage facility, part dungeon-themed playroom. One side was meticulously organized. Floor-to-ceiling shelves and racks overflowed with adult novelties of every imaginable shape, size, and function. Rows of dildos – realistic, fantastical, vibrating, double-ended. Butt plugs in gleaming metal and soft silicone. Boxes labeled with things like 'nipple clamps,' 'electro-stim pads,' 'sounding rods.' Further along, restraints – leather cuffs, fuzzy handcuffs, bondage tape, spreader bars. Whips, paddles, floggers, crops. Gag balls, blindfolds, collars, leashes… On hanging racks, a dazzling array of costumes: skimpy maid outfits, naughty nurse uniforms, latex catsuits, see-through mesh bodysuits, corsets, stockings, harnesses… Enough gear to stock a small BDSM club.
The other side of the room was set up for… activities. A large, circular bed draped in pink velvet curtains dominated the center. Nearby stood a gynecological examination chair, complete with stirrups. Various swings, suspension points, and bizarre-looking contraptions Vivian vaguely recognized as sex furniture littered the remaining space. Tucked in a corner were two ominous-looking machines with harnesses and thrusting rods – fucking machines.
"Well, well… Mommy's got some kinks," Vivian murmured, a wicked grin spreading across her face. However, upon closer inspection, almost everything looked pristine, untouched, still in original packaging or covered in dust. Only the two dildos Angela kept by her bedside seemed to have seen any actual use. It seemed Angela curated a fantasy world but rarely, if ever, indulged herself beyond the basics. "That's just sad," Vivian thought. "Don't worry, Mom. We'll break these toys in together."
Her eyes scanned the costume racks. So many possibilities… She finally settled on a sleek, black, wet-look vinyl outfit – high-necked, long-sleeved bodysuit that zipped up the front, matching opera gloves, thigh-high boots that laced up the back, and a stern-looking peaked cap. Very 'dominatrix interrogator'. It was adult-sized, obviously, but that was easily fixed.
Vivian quickly stripped off her childish pajamas. Concentrating, she willed her body to change, mature. Bones lengthened, muscles shifted, curves filled out. She stopped when she felt… right. Like an adult. Eighteen, maybe? Glancing in the large, gilt-framed mirror mounted on one wall, she almost whistled. Damn. She was hot. Long, fiery red hair cascaded down her back, framing a face that was hers, yet sculpted, sharpened, undeniably adult. Her skin glowed. Breasts, a generous F-cup, swelled proudly. Waist cinched tight above curvy hips and a firm, rounded ass. Long legs tapered down to elegant ankles. Touching herself, she traced the lines of her face, skimmed down over her collarbone, lingered on the heavy weight of her breasts, fingers brushing sensitive nipples, slid over her flat, toned stomach, finally delving into the thick triangle of dark red pubic hair. Her vulva mirrored Angela's 'innie' type, neat and compact. "Double damn." Even she wanted to fuck herself.
Shaking off the narcissistic impulse, she carefully wriggled into the skintight vinyl outfit. The cool, smooth material hugged every curve. She zipped it up, pulled on the gloves and boots, perched the cap jauntily on her head. Striking a pose in the mirror, she smirked. The effect was electric. A shiver ran down her spine – half from the cool vinyl, half from self-induced arousal. Perfect. Time for a surprise.
She slipped out of the secret room, closing the door silently, and padded towards the open-plan kitchen/living area. Angela was humming softly, bent over the stove, sautéing something that smelled delicious. Her thin chemise rode up slightly, revealing the tantalizing curve of her backside.
Vivian approached silently. Now standing a good few inches taller than Angela (easily 180cm, nearly six feet), she reached out, wrapping her arms firmly around Angela's waist from behind, pulling her back against her vinyl-clad chest. She lowered her head, whispering directly into Angela's ear, her voice pitched slightly lower, huskier: "Mommy."
"Mmm?" Angela responded distractedly, then froze. That voice… those arms… the height… This wasn't Vivian. Not her Vivian. She whirled around, eyes wide with shock. "Wh-who are you?! ...Vivi?"
Vivian grinned, releasing her and taking a small step back, striking a pose. "Yep! Surprise!" she purred, gesturing down at her transformed body. "Look, Mommy. I grew up!"
Angela stared, mouth agape. After last night, maybe this shouldn't be so shocking, but seeing it happen so casually… "H-how…? How did you do that?" She circled Vivian slowly, examining her from all angles, unable to stop herself from reaching out, tentatively touching Vivian's arm, her waist, her cheek. It felt real. Solid.
"Easy," Vivian shrugged nonchalantly. "If I want it, I can do it. Watch this – I can even look like you." Concentrating again, her features shimmered, shifted, bones subtly reshaping, hair color lightening… until a perfect duplicate of Angela stood before Angela, grinning cheekily. Like looking into a slightly younger, more mischievous mirror. Then, just as quickly, she shifted back to the stunning, eighteen-year-old redhead version of herself. "Pretty cool, huh? Am I gorgeous, Mommy?"
"Y-yes… Stunning," Angela breathed, still tracing the contours of Vivian's adult face, her sculpted collarbone. Her fingers drifted lower, brushing against the firm swell of Vivian's breast beneath the tight vinyl. "Mmm..." Vivian hummed, leaning into the touch, granting permission.
After a moment, Angela's gaze finally registered the outfit. The severe, kinky vinyl. "This… this clothing…" Her eyes darted towards the hallway, towards the forbidden room.
Vivian beamed innocently. "Found it in your special room, Mommy! You have so many pretty clothes in there! Will you wear them for me sometime? Please? And all those fun toys! Can we play with them together? You shouldn't keep them all to yourself!"
Angela flushed, embarrassed. Thank god Vivian didn't seem to understand the real purpose of most of those 'toys'. "We'll… we'll see," she mumbled evasively, turning back to the stove, flustered.
"Aww, no fair!" Vivian immediately pressed close again, wrapping her arms around Angela from behind once more. "I wanna play!" As she whined playfully, she let her male anatomy manifest again, this time scaled appropriately to her adult form – impressively long (a good 20cm, nearly eight inches) and substantially thick (easily 7-8cm diameter, like a sturdy bratwurst). With one vinyl-gloved hand, she stealthily lifted the hem of Angela's short chemise, nudging the thick, questing head of her cock against the soft cleft between Angela's bare buttocks.
"Ah! Vivi!" Angela gasped, startled by the intimate pressure.
"Shh, Mommy," Vivian purred into her ear, beginning to grind her hips slowly, rubbing the glans against the entrance to Angela's vagina. "Not going inside… Promise. Just… rubbing. Feels good, doesn't it? Mmm… so good…"
With every slow, deliberate rotation of her hips, Vivian could feel the slickness beginning to bloom against her cockhead, Angela's body involuntarily responding to the friction and the sheer intimacy of the act.