Three Cheese Lasagna (Patreon)

Peta Anderson had combined ricotta cheese, mozzarella cheese, a quarter cup of Parmesan cheese, and eggs in a large bowl and set it aside.  The prepared meat was already in the baking dish, now was time to place the lasagna noodles on top and then sprinkle the cheese mixture on top of that.  The final step for the first layer was to pour Ragu sauce on top of everything.

Peta didn't have a chance, her front doorbell rang.  She went over to answer the door.  One of her neighbors was standing there.  It was Mrs. Merle Douglas, she was the middle-aged woman who lived down the street.  She had a determined look on her face.

"Your son stole my life," she said.

"My son what?"

"Your son, I mean the person you think is your son, stole my life.  He isn't your son at all.  He is an old lady.  I mean I'm really your son James.

Peta looked over the woman, she was in her late fifties.  Definitely middle-aged, but not so old as to be called an old lady.  Not by an adult anyway.  James might call a woman this old an old lady though.  What did he know, he was only fifteen and Merle was his grandmother's age.

Merle was wearing a loose-fitting polyester print tunic with a matching polyester skirt, slip-on white shoes, and nude knee-high stockings.  Merle's hair was permed and she wore gold-tone sphere clip-on earrings.  She wore casual makeup: lipstick, blush, and a touch of eye shadow.

"You're my son James?"

"Yes, Mom."

Peta looked her over even more closely than before.  "I believe you," she said at last.  "What are we going to do?"

"All we have to do is confront her and swap back clothing.  Once she is in her clothes and I'm in mine we can send the lady packing and it'll all be over."

"But what is she refuses?"

"If we both confront her, she'll know she can't get away with it.  She has to give me back my life."

"Alright."

The pair walked to James' room.  Peta opened the door.  James was sitting in front of his computer playing the latest version of "Call Of Duty."  He was annoyed at being disturbed by his mother.

"What do you want?"

"Lady," Merle demanded, "give me back my life!"

"What?"

"You heard him," Peta stated angrily, "I know you are not my son.  It's all over."

"What are you talking about?" James was totally confused.

"You know.  Take off the clothes you are wearing and give them to him," Peta continued.

Merle had already slipped off her shoes.  She was pulling off her tunic over her head.

"Mom, I don't know..."  James was in the middle of talking when he stood up and also pulled off his shirt.  "What the fuck!" he exclaimed.

Merle had removed her top and skirt leaving her in only her lacy bra, matching panties, and stockings when James had unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

James was on the football team, His clothes weren't 'made for a middle-aged woman, but they would fit her, just as her apparel would fit him.

"Mom, you have to believe me.  This isn't true!"

"Stop calling me Mom.  I'm not your mother, he is!  I know who you are," Peta was practically shouting at James.  She saw him as some lady who had done wrong to her son.

Merle didn't need to say anything, she was just undressing.  She didn't care who saw her naked body.  Soon, Merle was completely naked.

James was fighting against what he was doing.  He couldn't stop himself, but he wasn't undressing as fast as he could.

"Mom, I'll be right back," Merle told Peta.  She went to the attached bathroom to remove her makeup.

"How are you doing this!" James demanded.

"I'm not doing anything."

When James was totally naked in front of his mother, he covered his penis with his hands.

"You have to listen to me!" James demanded.

"I don't have to listen to any of your lies.  How long did you think you could get away with impersonating my son.  I would have found out eventually.  It was so clear that you aren't James, . I don't know why it took so long.  But I would have figured it out eventually.  You don't even act like James."

"But I am James!"

"Stop lying," Peta said as she shook her head.

"Now what?"

"Put on these!" Peta picked up Merle's discarded apparel and gave them to James."

"You want me to wear this?"

"They are your clothing.  Aren't they?"

"No, they fackin aren't."

"Stop lying."

James pulled the pale yellow full-cut nylon panties with a lace trim up his legs.  He didn't want to, but he felt compelled to.  Next, he slipped his arms through the straps of the matching bra and fastened it in the back.

Merle returned and quickly dressed in James' apparel.  Soon, James and Merle had swapped clothing completely.  James was even wearing her clip-on earrings and carrying her purse.

"Is that all?" Peta asked.

"No, she has to put on her makeup too.  It has to be complete."  The necessary cosmetics were in Merle's purse.

"You heard him, Lady put on your makeup."

James was broken.  He hadn't cried for years, but he was crying now as his hands made up his face.

"Now, get out of here!  If I ever see you around me or my son, I'll call the cops and get you arrested!"

Peta pushed James towards the front door.  He couldn't resist her.  Then he realized, he was going to be thrown out into the street wearing the clothes of an old lady.  The door was closed in his face.

He turned and started to bang on the door, but Peta reiterated that if 'You don't leave, I'll call the cops!"

Dejected and somewhat coerced by the same invisible force that made him dress as he was, he walked briskly to the Douglas household.

"Oh my god," Peta sighed.  "How could a thing like that happen?"

"I don't know," replied Merle.

"Well, it's over now."

"I suppose."

"She won't come back.  If she does, I'll call the police.  If you ever see her again, you tell me immediately."

"I will Mom."

Merle returned to James' room.  She didn't want to play Call of Duty.  She decided to just lay back and listen to music.

Peta returned her three-cheese-lasagna preparations.  After putting the lasagna into the oven, Peta looked on line for the number of a lawyer.

"Hello, I'm Peta Anderson.  I want to know how to get a straining order," she told the receptionist who answered the phone.

End.

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