Bodyswap Shenanigans: Dad's Last Wish
0 Points
0
Dad's Last Wish
---
Dad had been lying there for what seemed like an eternity, his pallor reminding me of a crumpled paper bag left out in the rain. I was holding his frail hand when he tugged weakly at my sleeve.
"Son," he murmured. "I have one last wish."
I leaned in closer, expecting some final words of wisdom or perhaps a confession about a secret Swiss bank account. Instead, he handed me a crumpled piece of paper covered in what appeared to be ancient scribbles.
"It's a spell," he whispered. "Find me a new, youthful body."
Now, I had never been one for witchcraft or wizardry, but this was Dad's dying wish. So, like the dutiful son I was, I read the spell aloud. The room filled with a bright light, and I shielded my eyes. When I finally dared to look, Dad's transformation was already in process. His wrinkles vanished, his muscles firmed up, and... yes, he became a she.
Standing in front of me was now a woman my age, with long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Wide, curvy hips swayed as she shifted, and an ample bosom—no, let's be honest, those were some straight-up bazongas—proudly defied gravity.
"Oh, hell," I muttered. "This is super awkward."
Dad—or should I say, "Danielle"—looked down at her new body and then back at me. "Well, I'll be damned," she said in the same gruff voice that used to ask me to pass the remote.
As if that wasn't enough, Danielle discovered social media within a mere 48 hours. With her stunning new looks and old-school charm, she amassed followers faster than you could say "viral sensation."
"It's funny going out in public with her now," I told my buddy Steve over drinks, once again recounting one of Danielle's misadventures.
"No way, she still acts like her old self?" Steve chuckled.
"Yeah, it’s bizarre. A bunch of women came up to chat with her at the mall last week. She still introduced herself as Doug!"
"That's gold," Steve said, almost spilling his beer. "What did they say?"
"One woman complimented her dress, and Dad—sorry, Danielle—said, 'Thanks, it really shows off the goods,' and pointed to her chest."
Steve was in hysterics now. "Dude, your life is like a sitcom."
Back at home, things were no less peculiar. The sheer weirdness of seeing my new dad—or mom?—parading around in yoga pants and tank tops was an adjustment, to say the least. Yet, beneath the layers of awkwardness, there was a certain acceptance.
One evening, I found Danielle tinkering with the barbeque grill, her new nails painted in bright red contrasting sharply with the sizzling burgers. "Hey, I've got a new Instagram follower who's really into grilling tips," she said casually.
"That's great, Dad," I said, mustering a smile. "Just, you know... maybe don't post any pictures of you flipping burgers in a bikini."
"Oh, come on, lighten up!" she laughed. "We're rolling with the punches here, right?"
I had to admit, she had a point. Despite the epic weirdness of it all, Danielle was still Dad at heart. It was just an updated, thoroughly modern, and slightly disconcertingly attractive version.
And so, life continued, albeit in an absolutely bonkers fashion. I ultimately learned to accept my new dad, complete with her blonde hair, wide hips, and, yes, that formidable rack.
"I could get used to this," Danielle said one day, posting yet another selfie.
"Well, I'm glad one of us can," I muttered, shaking my head. But, deep down, I knew we’d figure it out. After all, family means sticking together through thick and thin—or in Danielle's case, thick and curvy.
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 My dad was very sick and was lying on his death bed. He told me he had one last wish, to find him a new youthful body. He handed me a paper that had a spell on it. I read it an then he began an to de age in front of me. I must have read it wrong though because he’s now a woman my age with blonde hair and wide and curvy hips and a big rack. I don't know what to do this is super awkward especially now since he has figured out social media he's got tons of followers now. It is funny to go out in public with him now he still acts like his old self so when women come up to chat with himself he still calls himself Doug. One woman complimented his dress and he said it really showed off the goods and pointed to his chest. Although its awkward for me to have this ultra curvaceous and busty woman around the house at all times I've learned to accept my new dad.
Response: Dad's Last Wish --- Dad had been lying there for what seemed like an eternity, his pallor reminding me of a crumpled paper bag left out in the rain. I was holding his frail hand when he tugged weakly at my sleeve. "Son," he murmured. "I have one last wish." I leaned in closer, expecting some final words of wisdom or perhaps a confession about a secret Swiss bank account. Instead, he handed me a crumpled piece of paper covered in what appeared to be ancient scribbles. "It's a spell," he whispered. "Find me a new, youthful body." Now, I had never been one for witchcraft or wizardry, but this was Dad's dying wish. So, like the dutiful son I was, I read the spell aloud. The room filled with a bright light, and I shielded my eyes. When I finally dared to look, Dad's transformation was already in process. His wrinkles vanished, his muscles firmed up, and... yes, he became a she. Standing in front of me was now a woman my age, with long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Wide, curvy hips swayed as she shifted, and an ample bosom—no, let's be honest, those were some straight-up bazongas—proudly defied gravity. "Oh, hell," I muttered. "This is super awkward." Dad—or should I say, "Danielle"—looked down at her new body and then back at me. "Well, I'll be damned," she said in the same gruff voice that used to ask me to pass the remote. As if that wasn't enough, Danielle discovered social media within a mere 48 hours. With her stunning new looks and old-school charm, she amassed followers faster than you could say "viral sensation." "It's funny going out in public with her now," I told my buddy Steve over drinks, once again recounting one of Danielle's misadventures. "No way, she still acts like her old self?" Steve chuckled. "Yeah, it’s bizarre. A bunch of women came up to chat with her at the mall last week. She still introduced herself as Doug!" "That's gold," Steve said, almost spilling his beer. "What did they say?" "One woman complimented her dress, and Dad—sorry, Danielle—said, 'Thanks, it really shows off the goods,' and pointed to her chest." Steve was in hysterics now. "Dude, your life is like a sitcom." Back at home, things were no less peculiar. The sheer weirdness of seeing my new dad—or mom?—parading around in yoga pants and tank tops was an adjustment, to say the least. Yet, beneath the layers of awkwardness, there was a certain acceptance. One evening, I found Danielle tinkering with the barbeque grill, her new nails painted in bright red contrasting sharply with the sizzling burgers. "Hey, I've got a new Instagram follower who's really into grilling tips," she said casually. "That's great, Dad," I said, mustering a smile. "Just, you know... maybe don't post any pictures of you flipping burgers in a bikini." "Oh, come on, lighten up!" she laughed. "We're rolling with the punches here, right?" I had to admit, she had a point. Despite the epic weirdness of it all, Danielle was still Dad at heart. It was just an updated, thoroughly modern, and slightly disconcertingly attractive version. And so, life continued, albeit in an absolutely bonkers fashion. I ultimately learned to accept my new dad, complete with her blonde hair, wide hips, and, yes, that formidable rack. "I could get used to this," Danielle said one day, posting yet another selfie. "Well, I'm glad one of us can," I muttered, shaking my head. But, deep down, I knew we’d figure it out. After all, family means sticking together through thick and thin—or in Danielle's case, thick and curvy.
Post your own comment: