"A World of Wives"
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Title: "A World of Wives"
Bob couldn’t believe his eyes. He had innocently thought a little fun with the remote wouldn’t hurt. Now, here he stood in the middle of a grocery store surrounded by countless clones of his beloved wife, Linda. Each one bore her vibrant red hair and impossibly alluring physique. The formerly mundane world had turned into his own bizarre reality TV show.
"Excuse me, where's the bread?" a Linda clone asked while batting her eyelashes.
Bob blinked. “Bread? Oh, yeah… It should be in aisle three. Wait, did you just wink at me?”
The Linda clone blushed and sashayed away. Bob shook his head, deciding to check out what else this remote had messed up. He had to get out of the store first, which was no easy task when every cashier had Linda's dazzling smile, and every customer gave him conspiratorial looks.
As he finally reached his car, yet another Linda was selling hot dogs from a stand.
"Hey Bob, want a hot dog? They’re as plump as—”
“NO! No thanks, Linda. I’ll pass,” stammered Bob before hastily driving away.
Bob switched on the car radio. Linda from an alpha male podcast was passionately discussing how to grow a better beard even though she had none.
“Rule number one: Confidence, guys!” Linda’s voice rang through the speakers, sounding absurdly enthusiastic for a talk so out of place.
"This is insane," Bob mumbled, speeding home.
Once back at his house, Bob flopped onto the couch and flicked on the TV to distract himself. He immediately regretted it. Linda clones were everywhere—in every TV program, commercial, and news segment.
In a basketball game, five Lindas hustled up and down the court. The announcer’s quirky commentary only made it more surreal.
“Linda dribbles! She passes to Linda… back to Linda! She shoots a three-pointer—Linda scores! The crowd goes wild!” the commentator yelled.
Bob groaned and flipped the channel. Now, a rap music video featured multiple Lindas, all rapping coolly about their big boobs and gyrating in perfect harmony.
One of the music videos lyrics caught his attention:
"Cloning ain't easy, but we've got it just right,
With our wide sexy hips, you'll dream every night!"
Bob buried his face in his hands. The entire planet had transformed into a buxom Linda-themed dreamland-turned-nightmare. He then realized he had to find the original Linda. Maybe she could help him fix this colossal mess.
Bob heard the sound of the front door opening and a familiar voice calling from the hallway.
“Honey, I’m home! And you'll never believe the day I had at work,” the original Linda chirped.
Bob sprung up from the couch and ran to greet his wife. “Linda, you have no idea what’s happening!” he exclaimed. “I accidentally cloned you… and now everyone on Earth looks like you!”
Linda looked around, bemused. “Everyone? Even the president?”
“Even the pizza delivery guy! This remote,” Bob thrust the small gadget at her, “It’s out of control!”
Linda’s eyes widened as she took the remote. “Well, no time to waste. Let’s see if we can fix this.”
Bob followed Linda as she confidently pressed a few buttons. The lights flickered ominously, and an awkward silence followed.
Then, just as unexpectedly as it began, the whole ordeal reversed. Everyone on the planet, except the hot dog vendor (who seemed content with her new figure), returned to their original selves. Linda handed the remote back to Bob with a sly smile.
“Oh my God. Linda, you really saved the day,” said Bob, collapsing into a chair.
“Bob, if you ever want to be surrounded by me again in the future, just ask. We might even have some fun with that remote… without turning everyone else into me. Got it?” Linda winked.
“Got it,” said Bob with a sheepish grin.
However, as Bob settled down with a sigh, he couldn’t help but notice the basketball commentators hadn't adjusted back. "Linda dribbles... passes to Linda!” they continued in his mind.
Deciding to avoid television for a while, Bob laughed and joined Linda in the kitchen, happy to be back to his ordinary life—with just one extraordinary Linda. And when he looked over and saw the remote on the counter, still glittering, he quickly turned to Linda.
“How about we lock that thing up tonight?” he suggested.
“Best idea you’ve had all day,” Linda chuckled.
And with that, the remote, and its reality-warping tendencies, were put away, hopefully never to be seen again. Or at least, not until they both really wanted an encore.
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: I had a new clone remote that could alter reality and clone people. I decided to use it on my wife with her vibrant red hair and her large massive boobs mixed with her wide sexy hips and large sexy ass. I pressed the clone button and somehow managed to make everyone on planet earth a clone of my wife. I flipped through TV channels seeing a basketball game all the players had my wife's busty body but they all still had the same names. I flipped over and found a rap music video with my wife rapping about her big boobs and clones of her twerking and shaking in the camera. I flipped on an alpha male podcast and heard my wife talking. It was all so crazy. I should explore more of this strange world with everyone looking like my hot wife. Write the story with lots of dialogue.
Response: Title: "A World of Wives" Bob couldn’t believe his eyes. He had innocently thought a little fun with the remote wouldn’t hurt. Now, here he stood in the middle of a grocery store surrounded by countless clones of his beloved wife, Linda. Each one bore her vibrant red hair and impossibly alluring physique. The formerly mundane world had turned into his own bizarre reality TV show. "Excuse me, where's the bread?" a Linda clone asked while batting her eyelashes. Bob blinked. “Bread? Oh, yeah… It should be in aisle three. Wait, did you just wink at me?” The Linda clone blushed and sashayed away. Bob shook his head, deciding to check out what else this remote had messed up. He had to get out of the store first, which was no easy task when every cashier had Linda's dazzling smile, and every customer gave him conspiratorial looks. As he finally reached his car, yet another Linda was selling hot dogs from a stand. "Hey Bob, want a hot dog? They’re as plump as—” “NO! No thanks, Linda. I’ll pass,” stammered Bob before hastily driving away. Bob switched on the car radio. Linda from an alpha male podcast was passionately discussing how to grow a better beard even though she had none. “Rule number one: Confidence, guys!” Linda’s voice rang through the speakers, sounding absurdly enthusiastic for a talk so out of place. "This is insane," Bob mumbled, speeding home. Once back at his house, Bob flopped onto the couch and flicked on the TV to distract himself. He immediately regretted it. Linda clones were everywhere—in every TV program, commercial, and news segment. In a basketball game, five Lindas hustled up and down the court. The announcer’s quirky commentary only made it more surreal. “Linda dribbles! She passes to Linda… back to Linda! She shoots a three-pointer—Linda scores! The crowd goes wild!” the commentator yelled. Bob groaned and flipped the channel. Now, a rap music video featured multiple Lindas, all rapping coolly about their big boobs and gyrating in perfect harmony. One of the music videos lyrics caught his attention: "Cloning ain't easy, but we've got it just right, With our wide sexy hips, you'll dream every night!" Bob buried his face in his hands. The entire planet had transformed into a buxom Linda-themed dreamland-turned-nightmare. He then realized he had to find the original Linda. Maybe she could help him fix this colossal mess. Bob heard the sound of the front door opening and a familiar voice calling from the hallway. “Honey, I’m home! And you'll never believe the day I had at work,” the original Linda chirped. Bob sprung up from the couch and ran to greet his wife. “Linda, you have no idea what’s happening!” he exclaimed. “I accidentally cloned you… and now everyone on Earth looks like you!” Linda looked around, bemused. “Everyone? Even the president?” “Even the pizza delivery guy! This remote,” Bob thrust the small gadget at her, “It’s out of control!” Linda’s eyes widened as she took the remote. “Well, no time to waste. Let’s see if we can fix this.” Bob followed Linda as she confidently pressed a few buttons. The lights flickered ominously, and an awkward silence followed. Then, just as unexpectedly as it began, the whole ordeal reversed. Everyone on the planet, except the hot dog vendor (who seemed content with her new figure), returned to their original selves. Linda handed the remote back to Bob with a sly smile. “Oh my God. Linda, you really saved the day,” said Bob, collapsing into a chair. “Bob, if you ever want to be surrounded by me again in the future, just ask. We might even have some fun with that remote… without turning everyone else into me. Got it?” Linda winked. “Got it,” said Bob with a sheepish grin. However, as Bob settled down with a sigh, he couldn’t help but notice the basketball commentators hadn't adjusted back. "Linda dribbles... passes to Linda!” they continued in his mind. Deciding to avoid television for a while, Bob laughed and joined Linda in the kitchen, happy to be back to his ordinary life—with just one extraordinary Linda. And when he looked over and saw the remote on the counter, still glittering, he quickly turned to Linda. “How about we lock that thing up tonight?” he suggested. “Best idea you’ve had all day,” Linda chuckled. And with that, the remote, and its reality-warping tendencies, were put away, hopefully never to be seen again. Or at least, not until they both really wanted an encore.
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