Dalton McPherson stomped up the front steps of his house, his petite, plus-sized frame jiggling with every furious step. The voluminous, messy high bun atop his head bounced, loose wavy tendrils sticking to his sun-kissed tan cheeks. His striking makeup-smoky, defined eyes and glossy pink lipstick-felt heavy and foreign on his face. The loose empire-waist babydoll tunic, covered in a vibrant tropical print of palm leaves and hibiscus, swished around his wide hips, while the dark-wash denim capri jeans hugged his thick thighs and ended just below the knee with those annoying little slits at the outer hems.

He slammed the door open. “Ivory!”

His wife looked up from the couch, eyes widening for a split second before she bit back a smile. “Mom- I mean, Dalton. You’re home early.”

“Don’t you ‘Mom’ me!” he snapped, his voice coming out in his mother-in-law’s higher, slightly raspy tone. He planted his hands on his ample hips, the bangle bracelets on his wrists jingling. “What the hell did you let her do to me? Look at this!” He gestured wildly at his body. “I look like your mother!”

Ivory folded her arms, trying to look sympathetic. “You promised her weeks ago that you’d help paint her house, Dalton. You kept putting it off. Every weekend it was ‘next Saturday’ or ‘I’m too tired.’ So she… borrowed your body. She’s over there right now in your skin, painting the living room herself.”

Dalton’s mouth fell open, pink lipstick stretching. “She *what*? How? When did this even-?”