Bizarre Bodies: The Great Shift Showdown
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The Great Shift had struck the world like a bolt of lightning, as if some cosmic entity had decided that Earth needed a healthy dose of chaos. People everywhere had swapped bodies willy-nilly, and the world was in turmoil. Flat-footed CEOs now tapped away in ballerina shoes while ballerinas thumped around in combat boots. It was all the plots of Freaky Friday, Face/Off, and every body-swap movie in cinematic history rolled into one hot mess.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—I had kept my own body, while my family hadn’t been so lucky. Life at home had taken a turn for the absurd.
One morning, I stumbled downstairs in my usual half-asleep haze, only to be greeted by Dad, who now sported the curvy blonde physique of our neighbor, Mrs. Thompson. He was trying to fit into one of our flimsy wooden chairs, which was clearly threatening to give up the ghost.
“Dad,” I said slowly, “do you…uh, want a cushion?”
Dad—now Mrs. Thompson—flipped his long blonde hair and pouted. “Do you think I’ll need it? These hips are a killer.” His new voice had that sultry tone Mrs. Thompson was known for, making it even weirder.
My younger brother, Joey, who had swapped bodies with our ultra-curvy redheaded MILF neighbor, Claire, walked in wearing one of her tight dresses that barely fit his new assets. He looked like he was going to burst out of it at any moment.
“Mom’s asking where the cereal is,” Joey said in a now surprisingly sophisticated voice.
“Mom,” I called, trying to sound normal, “it’s on the top shelf.”
My mom emerged, now a 12-year-old boy, and dragged a chair to the counter to reach the cereal. Watching a kid in pajamas struggle with mundane morning tasks was surreal enough; knowing it was my mom made it downright trippy.
“Can we just have a normal breakfast for once,” Mom or "Timmy," complained, “Where's the milk, Michael?”
My older brother, Michael, who was in the body of the busty brunette from the next block over, ambl
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: Write a story with dialogue where 75% of people on earth swaps bodies due to an occurrence called the great shift. I fortunately kept my body but everyone else is my family is different. My dad was now a Curvy Blonde with a big ass and nice tits. My younger brother ended up in the body of our busty an ultra curvy redheaded MILF neighbor. My older brother ended up in the busty brunettes body. My mom is a 12 year old boy now. And my best friend is in the body of my Ex with her big boobs wide hips, big butt and long blonde hair. I'm trying to live life like it's normal but its not normal to have a life like this.
Response: The Great Shift had struck the world like a bolt of lightning, as if some cosmic entity had decided that Earth needed a healthy dose of chaos. People everywhere had swapped bodies willy-nilly, and the world was in turmoil. Flat-footed CEOs now tapped away in ballerina shoes while ballerinas thumped around in combat boots. It was all the plots of Freaky Friday, Face/Off, and every body-swap movie in cinematic history rolled into one hot mess. Fortunately—or unfortunately—I had kept my own body, while my family hadn’t been so lucky. Life at home had taken a turn for the absurd. One morning, I stumbled downstairs in my usual half-asleep haze, only to be greeted by Dad, who now sported the curvy blonde physique of our neighbor, Mrs. Thompson. He was trying to fit into one of our flimsy wooden chairs, which was clearly threatening to give up the ghost. “Dad,” I said slowly, “do you…uh, want a cushion?” Dad—now Mrs. Thompson—flipped his long blonde hair and pouted. “Do you think I’ll need it? These hips are a killer.” His new voice had that sultry tone Mrs. Thompson was known for, making it even weirder. My younger brother, Joey, who had swapped bodies with our ultra-curvy redheaded MILF neighbor, Claire, walked in wearing one of her tight dresses that barely fit his new assets. He looked like he was going to burst out of it at any moment. “Mom’s asking where the cereal is,” Joey said in a now surprisingly sophisticated voice. “Mom,” I called, trying to sound normal, “it’s on the top shelf.” My mom emerged, now a 12-year-old boy, and dragged a chair to the counter to reach the cereal. Watching a kid in pajamas struggle with mundane morning tasks was surreal enough; knowing it was my mom made it downright trippy. “Can we just have a normal breakfast for once,” Mom or "Timmy," complained, “Where's the milk, Michael?” My older brother, Michael, who was in the body of the busty brunette from the next block over, ambl
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