As soon as you're in the house, Michael pushes past you. "Moooooom," she calls plaintively, her high voice carrying through the house. "Moooom, look what dad did to me," she shouts petulantly.
"Keep your voice down, boy. I will explain things to your mother."
She glares at you. "Yeah right, she's going to be totally pissed when she finds out what you did to me. She's gonna turn me back straight away. Mooooom!"
Your son dashes up the stairs, unsupported breasts sloshing as she does so. She races from room to room, calling out with no reply.
In the kitchen is today's dinner, half prepared, a partially chopped carrot on the chopping board. There is a hastily written note there - 'mother had another fall again. Been admitted, going to see her, back in a week hopefully."
Perfect. Your mother-in-law has had a series of nasty tumbles the last few years, and her stays in hospital have only gotten longer each time, with your wife forced to drive across the country and stay with her for the days or weeks she was admitted. Even after discharge, your wife tended to stay around for days to help with cooking and cleaning until she's confident her mom is able to take care of herself again.
The two of you have talked at length about buying the old woman a few more years, perhaps reducing her to a healthy 50-year-old, maybe even just temporarily until she could recuperate physically or emotionally, but the cost of purchasing the precious lifespan-extending credits at the Bureau has always been too much. Now that you have so many of Michael's years banked, perhaps you could spare a few for your mother-in-law. It would certainly sweeten the deal for persuading your wife to keep your son this way longer term.
With the right distribution of years, it would be entirely possible to have both your son, your wife, and your mother-in-law all at the same ago, you think in amusement, imaging what sort of living arrangement that might be with three middle age women about the house. You can certainly picture worse things, you think wolfishly, eyeing up your sons resplendent breasts as he strides into the kitchen. You've seen pictures of your mother-in-law in her youth and the whole family, mother, daughter and grandson, certainly lucked out in the genetic lottery when it came to feminine beauty.
"Mom's not here," Michael scowls.
You grin. "Looks like you're the woman about the house for the next few days. Dinner's at 5," you crow, gesturing to the half-completed meal on the counter, as you...
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