"A Clone Too Far"
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Title: "A Clone Too Far"
Margaret, or Maggie as everyone called her, stood in the doorway with a wooden spoon in one hand and a dish towel in the other. Her voluptuous figure accentuated by her green, low-cut blouse and jeans, she surveyed the chaotic scene before her. Her three sons, Dan, Sam, and Chris, were glued to the TV, thumbs furiously assaulting video game controllers. It was like trying to get a herd of cats to listen to a seminar on financial planning.
"Alright, dinner!" Maggie called out for the fifth time. "Dinner's ready!" There was no acknowledgment, only the sounds of "pew pew" and explosions emanating from the screen. She rolled her eyes so hard it nearly gave her vertigo.
Her husband, Dave, sat in the living room, chugging a beer and intently watching ESPN. “We’re gonna lose this game if they don’t pull it together!” he shouted, seemingly to her but definitely about his beloved sports team.
Margaret heaved a sigh deeper than the Mariana Trench. "I swear," she muttered to herself, “I wish I had a family that was more like me.”
Before she knew it, a strange gust of wind swept through the house. Papers fluttered, beer cans rattled, and the ambient lighting took on a surreal glow. Maggie blinked twice, rather dramatically.
The glow subsided. At first, everything looked the same. Her husband was still on the couch, her boys wrestling with game controllers. But something was off.
Something was very off.
“OH MY GOD!” Maggie screamed, dropping her spoon and dish towel.
Her husband looked her way, except now he had her face, hair, curves, and was wearing her clothes. The family group's combined cleavage could have created an impressive logarithmic curve. "Hey, honey, what's the fuss?" Dave said, nonchalantly placing a beer can amidst his impressive bosom, without missing a beat of the game on TV.
Maggie’s three sons turned around at the noise, each one transformed into her own busty, curvaceous duplicate, complete with the green low-cut blouses that matched hers. Dan, now Daniella apparently, had Sam in a headlock. Sam - Samantha? - retaliated by punching Daniella right in the chest.
“It’s like punching a pair of airbags!” Sam/Samantha exclaimed, then burst into giggles.
"This is CRAZY!" Maggie screeched, trying to look everywhere at once. “Why are you all… ME?”
Dave looked down at himself, seemingly unbothered. “Well, at least now I know why you enjoy these jeans. They’re super comfy,” he said, adjusting his waistband. Then, casually, he hollered at the TV, "Yeah! Touchdown!"
Margaret double-checked the clock on the stove. This lunacy was beyond her wildest nightmares. “Dinner is ready! NOW!” she yelled, her voice reaching unprecedented decibels.
Her transformed husband and sons trooped towards the dining room. The kids still argued about video games, homework, and a girl from school who'd looked at their chests in the hall. Dan-turned-Daniella spoke up first. “This girl, Lisa, she looked at my boobs. Think she was jealous.”
“Wait till she sees your beer gut,” Sam/Samantha retorted, and the three erupted into laughter.
Margaret, desperately holding onto her sanity like it was the last slice of chocolate cake, seated herself at the head of the table. She examined her surreal clone parade, each one comfortably filling their green blouses in a way she previously assumed only she could.
In between these bewildering dinner conversations, Maggie succeeded in catching Dave’s newly identical eyes. “Dave, we HAVE to fix this,” she pleaded.
“Hmm? Oh, after the game?” he suggested, mid-chew.
“No, NOW!"
Dave sighed. “Alright, alright. Just after dessert, okay?”
Maggie buried her face in her hands. “Should’ve asked for a magic wand,” she muttered. The universe had a cruel sense of humor.
Dinner continued in bizarre harmony, and by the time dessert came around, Maggie realized maybe—just maybe—her family could learn a thing or two from walking in her shoes. Or at least, from struggling to sit comfortably in a pair of high-waisted mom jeans.
This story was generated by user zach3 with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
AI Prompts
Prompt: A story with lots of dialogue where a curvaceous and busty mother is angry that nobody in the house seems to listen to her. She rolls her eyes seeing her three sons play video games even though she called for dinner a half an hour ago. Her husband is watching ESPN on the tv. She sighs and wishes that her family could be like her. That's when everyone morphed into an exact clone of her. None of them saw the problem with it. Her husband now wearing her green low cut blouse had a beer between his cleavage and was still watching tv. Her three kids all dressed in the same green low cut blouse and mom jeans were pulling each others hair and punching each others boobs while playing some video games and rough housing upstairs. This isn't what she wanted was a family full of... well her. Finally everyone came down for dinner all clones of their curvy and busty mom and curvy and busty wife. They still are having their normal conversations about asking out girls and about work and how one girl at school at looked at their boobs. It was crazy.
Response: Title: "A Clone Too Far" Margaret, or Maggie as everyone called her, stood in the doorway with a wooden spoon in one hand and a dish towel in the other. Her voluptuous figure accentuated by her green, low-cut blouse and jeans, she surveyed the chaotic scene before her. Her three sons, Dan, Sam, and Chris, were glued to the TV, thumbs furiously assaulting video game controllers. It was like trying to get a herd of cats to listen to a seminar on financial planning. "Alright, dinner!" Maggie called out for the fifth time. "Dinner's ready!" There was no acknowledgment, only the sounds of "pew pew" and explosions emanating from the screen. She rolled her eyes so hard it nearly gave her vertigo. Her husband, Dave, sat in the living room, chugging a beer and intently watching ESPN. “We’re gonna lose this game if they don’t pull it together!” he shouted, seemingly to her but definitely about his beloved sports team. Margaret heaved a sigh deeper than the Mariana Trench. "I swear," she muttered to herself, “I wish I had a family that was more like me.” Before she knew it, a strange gust of wind swept through the house. Papers fluttered, beer cans rattled, and the ambient lighting took on a surreal glow. Maggie blinked twice, rather dramatically. The glow subsided. At first, everything looked the same. Her husband was still on the couch, her boys wrestling with game controllers. But something was off. Something was very off. “OH MY GOD!” Maggie screamed, dropping her spoon and dish towel. Her husband looked her way, except now he had her face, hair, curves, and was wearing her clothes. The family group's combined cleavage could have created an impressive logarithmic curve. "Hey, honey, what's the fuss?" Dave said, nonchalantly placing a beer can amidst his impressive bosom, without missing a beat of the game on TV. Maggie’s three sons turned around at the noise, each one transformed into her own busty, curvaceous duplicate, complete with the green low-cut blouses that matched hers. Dan, now Daniella apparently, had Sam in a headlock. Sam - Samantha? - retaliated by punching Daniella right in the chest. “It’s like punching a pair of airbags!” Sam/Samantha exclaimed, then burst into giggles. "This is CRAZY!" Maggie screeched, trying to look everywhere at once. “Why are you all… ME?” Dave looked down at himself, seemingly unbothered. “Well, at least now I know why you enjoy these jeans. They’re super comfy,” he said, adjusting his waistband. Then, casually, he hollered at the TV, "Yeah! Touchdown!" Margaret double-checked the clock on the stove. This lunacy was beyond her wildest nightmares. “Dinner is ready! NOW!” she yelled, her voice reaching unprecedented decibels. Her transformed husband and sons trooped towards the dining room. The kids still argued about video games, homework, and a girl from school who'd looked at their chests in the hall. Dan-turned-Daniella spoke up first. “This girl, Lisa, she looked at my boobs. Think she was jealous.” “Wait till she sees your beer gut,” Sam/Samantha retorted, and the three erupted into laughter. Margaret, desperately holding onto her sanity like it was the last slice of chocolate cake, seated herself at the head of the table. She examined her surreal clone parade, each one comfortably filling their green blouses in a way she previously assumed only she could. In between these bewildering dinner conversations, Maggie succeeded in catching Dave’s newly identical eyes. “Dave, we HAVE to fix this,” she pleaded. “Hmm? Oh, after the game?” he suggested, mid-chew. “No, NOW!" Dave sighed. “Alright, alright. Just after dessert, okay?” Maggie buried her face in her hands. “Should’ve asked for a magic wand,” she muttered. The universe had a cruel sense of humor. Dinner continued in bizarre harmony, and by the time dessert came around, Maggie realized maybe—just maybe—her family could learn a thing or two from walking in her shoes. Or at least, from struggling to sit comfortably in a pair of high-waisted mom jeans.
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