One week later, Emily was still adjusting to being in her father’s body. She couldn’t help but feel a longing as she observed him running around the house, acting like her.
One evening, as they sat together in the living room, a comfortable silence settled around them. Alan could sense Emily's restlessness, the unspoken questions that lingered on her lips. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew he had to say.
"Emily, I know this is all so strange and confusing for both of us," he began, his voice gentle yet tinged with sadness, "But we have to figure out how to move forward from here. We can't dwell on what we've lost or how we ended up in this situation."
“What I’m trying to say is,” he continued, “I’m you now, and you’re me. But that doesn’t change the fact that we love each other and we're a family."
Emily looked down at the hands that were no longer her own. She couldn’t stop picturing her father in her body, being mistaken for her by their friends and neighbors. She wanted to scream, to tear her hair out, to somehow break free from this unnatural existence. But she knew that wouldn’t do any good.
Oh, and surely, he had seen her naked countless times. Surely he had pleasured himself in her body.
The thought made her shudder, but she knew she couldn't blame him for trying to feel something resembling her life while living in her body.
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