---
“Dad, we need to talk,” I blurted out as I glanced sideways through the living room doorway. It felt surreal to see Kimberly—well, Dad in Kimberly’s body—trying to navigate our family life. Today, he had somehow managed to get my crush to spill over into the most awkward territory imaginable.
Dad—Kimberly—looked up, batting her heavily mascaraed eyelashes in response. “Oh, sweetie, of course. Come sit with me on the couch. We can discuss your… concerns.” Her voice was Kimberly's, the sultry tones highlighting his words unnervingly well.
I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head, remaining planted in the middle of the living room floor. “No, Dad. This whole situation is awkward enough without adding fake dates into the mix.”
“That’s precisely why I suggested it,” Dad said, shifting slightly, causing Kimberly’s tight jeans to strain even more around her hips. “The fake date is supposed to make you feel more comfortable around her—well, me right now, but you know what I mean.”
“Oh my god, did you even listen to yourself just now?” I groaned, covering my face with both hands. “Fake dates are not the solution. It just makes everything worse.”
Dad—excuse me, Kimberly—folded her manicured hands primly in her lap. “Honey, as your parent, my priority is to support and guide you through these tricky teenage years. By spending this time together, you can learn how to interact with Kimberly for when you actually muster up the courage to ask her out.”
“Dad, have you thought about how Kimberly—the real Kimberly— might feel when she finds out you shared my private feelings with her?” I sat heavily on an armchair, fingers gripping the upholstery as if to anchor myself in this bizarre reality.
Ducking her head—Kimberly’s head—slightly, a gesture that looked disconcertingly like stubbornness, Dad shuffled through his handbag. Eventually, he fished out a small mirror and checked her reflection. “She’ll understand. Besides, it’s only for the semester. By the time the swap reverses, everything will be back to normal.”
“Normal?” I sputtered. “Nothing about this is normal! I have to sit through every class watching you in Kimberly's body, knowing every single day it's you in there and not her. And then Kimberly will come back to school remembering everything, like totally knowing all the embarrassing stuff you’ve told her about me!”
Dad—Kimberly’s dad—sighed dramatically, setting the mirror down. “Honey, the swap class is an amazing educational opportunity. The whole point is to develop empathy and experience different perspectives. Imagine if you swapped bodies with Kimberly instead of me. You’d want her to see you in a favorable light, right?”
I threw my hands up, shaking my head incredulously. “That’s different! I’m not prancing around in tight jeans and a crop top trying to play matchmaker with my own kid!”
Standing up elegantly, Dad approached, placing a foreign hand—Kimberly’s hand—on my shoulder. “Alright, Jake. How about a compromise? No fake dates. Just honest conversations. Kimberly really is a lovely girl, inside and out, and by the time this semester is over, you’ll have a nice friendship base to build on.”
I sighed, realizing protest was futile. “Fine, Dad, but please—it’s going to take time to get through this weirdness. And please, please stop using her makeup. It’s just too strange.”
“Deal,” Dad said, pulling me into an awkwardly affectionate hug, the scent of Kimberly’s perfume nearly overwhelming. “And for your sake and mine, let’s make this semester a good one, shall we?”
Scrubbing my hand across my face again, I nodded reluctantly. “Alright, Dad. Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?” he—she—asked, stepping back.
“No more fashion advice from Kimberly. Leave her clothes out of our agreements.”
Dad—Kimberly’s dad—chuckled softly. “Agreed. We’ll take it a day at a time, son.”
As he returned to Kimberly’s exaggeratedly prim and proper posture on the couch, I turned and headed to my room, mentally bracing myself to survive each surreal, awkward day of this utterly unique semester.
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.
Prompt: write a story with dialogue where Things can get very awkward when your dad is a swap class teacher. He’s been teaching the class for a couple years now. Usually there’s an even number of students but this year it was odd. He had to swap with one of the hottest girls in school this semester. So now he swapped bodies with Kimberly a hot brunette and the hottest and bustiest girl in school. All semester she's going to be at my house acting like my dad. God this is awkward and even worse my dad somehow found out my crush on her so now he is going to try and have a fake date with me and try his best to act like her he even did her makeup and put on a nice outfit that consisted of some tight jeans that hugged her curvaceous backside, and a gray top that showed off a bit of belly and was tight around his busty form, I even saw the outline of his bra. He has told her about my crush too. How could this get any worse.
Response: --- “Dad, we need to talk,” I blurted out as I glanced sideways through the living room doorway. It felt surreal to see Kimberly—well, Dad in Kimberly’s body—trying to navigate our family life. Today, he had somehow managed to get my crush to spill over into the most awkward territory imaginable. Dad—Kimberly—looked up, batting her heavily mascaraed eyelashes in response. “Oh, sweetie, of course. Come sit with me on the couch. We can discuss your… concerns.” Her voice was Kimberly's, the sultry tones highlighting his words unnervingly well. I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head, remaining planted in the middle of the living room floor. “No, Dad. This whole situation is awkward enough without adding fake dates into the mix.” “That’s precisely why I suggested it,” Dad said, shifting slightly, causing Kimberly’s tight jeans to strain even more around her hips. “The fake date is supposed to make you feel more comfortable around her—well, me right now, but you know what I mean.” “Oh my god, did you even listen to yourself just now?” I groaned, covering my face with both hands. “Fake dates are not the solution. It just makes everything worse.” Dad—excuse me, Kimberly—folded her manicured hands primly in her lap. “Honey, as your parent, my priority is to support and guide you through these tricky teenage years. By spending this time together, you can learn how to interact with Kimberly for when you actually muster up the courage to ask her out.” “Dad, have you thought about how Kimberly—the real Kimberly— might feel when she finds out you shared my private feelings with her?” I sat heavily on an armchair, fingers gripping the upholstery as if to anchor myself in this bizarre reality. Ducking her head—Kimberly’s head—slightly, a gesture that looked disconcertingly like stubbornness, Dad shuffled through his handbag. Eventually, he fished out a small mirror and checked her reflection. “She’ll understand. Besides, it’s only for the semester. By the time the swap reverses, everything will be back to normal.” “Normal?” I sputtered. “Nothing about this is normal! I have to sit through every class watching you in Kimberly's body, knowing every single day it's you in there and not her. And then Kimberly will come back to school remembering everything, like totally knowing all the embarrassing stuff you’ve told her about me!” Dad—Kimberly’s dad—sighed dramatically, setting the mirror down. “Honey, the swap class is an amazing educational opportunity. The whole point is to develop empathy and experience different perspectives. Imagine if you swapped bodies with Kimberly instead of me. You’d want her to see you in a favorable light, right?” I threw my hands up, shaking my head incredulously. “That’s different! I’m not prancing around in tight jeans and a crop top trying to play matchmaker with my own kid!” Standing up elegantly, Dad approached, placing a foreign hand—Kimberly’s hand—on my shoulder. “Alright, Jake. How about a compromise? No fake dates. Just honest conversations. Kimberly really is a lovely girl, inside and out, and by the time this semester is over, you’ll have a nice friendship base to build on.” I sighed, realizing protest was futile. “Fine, Dad, but please—it’s going to take time to get through this weirdness. And please, please stop using her makeup. It’s just too strange.” “Deal,” Dad said, pulling me into an awkwardly affectionate hug, the scent of Kimberly’s perfume nearly overwhelming. “And for your sake and mine, let’s make this semester a good one, shall we?” Scrubbing my hand across my face again, I nodded reluctantly. “Alright, Dad. Just promise me one thing.” “What’s that?” he—she—asked, stepping back. “No more fashion advice from Kimberly. Leave her clothes out of our agreements.” Dad—Kimberly’s dad—chuckled softly. “Agreed. We’ll take it a day at a time, son.” As he returned to Kimberly’s exaggeratedly prim and proper posture on the couch, I turned and headed to my room, mentally bracing myself to survive each surreal, awkward day of this utterly unique semester.
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