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Costume Gun: A Close Shave

You know the period when you start a few caps in the evening and couldn't stop writing until your clock tells that normal human beings are soundly asleep and had probably started their REM sleep?

It's one of those lucky days. I must apologise about the lack of updates; despite being summer, creative drought is an all-time season in my mindscape. But nevertheless, here are some captions.

 “Where’s mommy and what have you done to her?”

“What do you mean, Jimmy?”

“Shut up! You’re not mommy, I saw it. I saw you putting her skin on!”

Jim’s mother stood there, dressed in corsets and stockings, her head cocking onto one side and frowning as if in confusion. Her face, however, cleared into a relief as she bent down and hugged Jimmy as he struggled in her hold.

“Oh Jimmy, were you dreaming again?” She cooed as she stroke his head resisting his struggle to break her hold.

“W-wha?” Jimmy stopped.

“Remember those scary nightmares you thought it was real?”

Jimmy slowly nodded.

“Oh you, do you remember the previous time it happen? You thought there was a monster clawing out of your bed and it took me a long time to calm you down?”

Jimmy sheepishly nodded.

“Now, if I were some stranger wearing mommy’s skin, do you think he would ever know that you wet your bed 2 weeks ago after another bad dream?”

Jimmy’s eyes widened as he blushed; he nodded furiously now.

“There, there, it’s okay. Mommy is here and there’s no bad people wearing your mommy, okay?” Jim’s mother whispered tenderly as she cooed her son to sleep.

After putting her son to bed, Jim’s mother, Diane heaved a sigh of relief, “What a troublesome brat,” Diane growled as she starts to feel up her own body. “I should be careful next time but whatever,” As Diane starts to fondle her own breast, she tried to trace where her original self had done wrong. It was a routine, picked the lock of the door silently, zapped the women with the costume gun, wore her, lived her life, ditched the skin, repeat. “Must have made a noise that the boy had heard; thank goodness for the costume gun, else I would have not remembered that Jimmy boy has night terro-,” Diane moaned, interrupting the stranger’s thought as Diane’s hands pinched her clit.

“Now Diane, until your husband gets home, I should start familiarising with your, I mean, my body,” the stranger grinned as he started to massaged his stolen snatch.