It had started as an impulse. She hadn't really thought about her appearance before, but a few comments about her nose and chin had her reeling. It wasn't really the place of a son to make his mother feel bad about herself, but he figured she owed him, for what a controlling dragon she'd been, raising him. Dale wasn't usually the kind for introspection - the world didn't require that kind of thought from the beautiful, young male - but even he had contemplated the connection between his overbearing mother and her moods, and their correlation to his father leaving somewhere after age eleven. Dale's own attitude had started right around the rise of hormones, of course.<br/><br/>He had proceeded to become the unpleasant boy his male chemicals had destined him to be. It was unfortunate that the young son of a single mother became gorgeous with growth. It excused him from convention, he thought, and his surrounding agreed. With his anger he could practice abhorrent violence on his fellow bucks to have their ears and admiration - desirable to any rising lad - and with his gruffly spoken expectations and impeccably handsome features he waded in whatever tail he chose. It made him an impossible character, but at least his life was pleasant.<br/><br/>It was this kind of outlook that fueled his continued antagonizing of his mother. It would have been bad enough that this new prince of an emerging generation took time off from enjoying respect and debasing girls with whatever acts he could think of - giant men with giant limbs get what they want - to bully his mother into complexes, but he wasn't satisfied there. Green eyes under dark hair wickedly pushed until she asked him to follow her on consultations with the good doctor she'd chosen to cut her insecurities out. It was in this surgeon's office Dale found himself now, waiting.<br/><br/>He had a kindred in Dr. Laite, and the two had converged on the poor lady. She was none the wiser, but the wording on the manifest had given the only practitioner of a scalped that she thought she could afford free reigns. Nose and chin, she thought, perhaps a few injections to smooth out a few wrinkles, also - but Dale had talked to the doctor about expanding the treatment. As long as he had access to the woman's accounts, the doctor didn't mind. She had trusted her son, and Dale had made sure to choose all the best things for her.<br/><br/>She had been at the clinic for quite some time now. Dale hadn't missed her much with the house available for his friends. He couldn't count how many times he'd defiled the sanctity of his mother's bedroom with any girl that wanted to stay at the new unofficial Gomorrah. They didn't usually complain, and if they did, he'd made sure they wouldn't for long. He had quite the reputation. Dale had almost forgotten about what he'd done to his poor mother until the notification that it was time to check her out, now what everything had healed up.<br/><br/>He found that he was excited in the private room. She had been kept without mirrors, Dr-Laite's excuse had been that she shouldn't see herself with all the swelling, and her new form would be just as much a surprise to her as her son. Well. Not entirely. He'd planned this, and knew what to expect. However amoral this was, it was delicious. Dale was a man now, and enjoyed darker humor. How would mom feel when she'd gone under as woman the spitting image of her age and time, only to be revealed as the caricature of a boy's preferences today.<br/><br/>The doctor brought her into the room himself. Dale could already see the reshaped lips and reconstructed face above her hospital gown. He stood up. "Mom." Wide, clear eyes were that perfect shade of greed when he saw her. His red lips were wet with saliva and their pout was thinned with a wicked grin to one side. He'd come to mock her, and celebrate her new fall into debt. But the way she looked, carved into curves and swollen with silicone at flattering places, he could think of other uses for her, too. The doctor started freeing her of the gown.