Booby Trapped: The Hilarious Haunting of Maple Street
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We'd just bought the place, a charming little house at the end of Maple Street. Our real estate agent, Bob, had gone on about its character and history, adding a casual mention that it was “probably” haunted. We didn’t believe in all of that nonsense; after all, what’s a little rumor in a competitive market?
It was our brand-new hot tub that drew us outside on that fateful evening. I had just slipped in, letting the hot water melt away the day, when my wife, Carol, gave a little shiver and then a whole lot more. Before I knew it, she was thrashing about, and I was starting to freak out.
“Carol! You okay?” I shouted, trying to grab her, but she pushed me away with surprising force.
Then, the thrashing stopped as abruptly as it started. Carol looked at me with wide eyes, a little too wide. And then… she gave a deep, belly laugh that was distinctly not from my petite, soprano-voiced wife.
“Heh, heh,” she—or rather, he—said. “Mind if I join ya?”
“What in the fresh hell is going on?” I asked, mostly to myself.
“Name’s Dave,” the voice declared proudly. “Used to live here. Looks like I’m back!”
I blinked, trying to wrap my head around this. “Dave? Like the guy who the realtor said might be haunting the place?”
“Ding ding! We got a winner!” Dave grinned, stretching Carol’s lips in a manner most unnatural. “Man, it feels good to have these… uh, muscles again.” He looked down appreciatively.
“Those aren’t muscles, Dave. That’s my wife’s—um—upper body.”
“Tomato, tomahto,” Dave shrugged, leaning back and crossing Carol’s legs with surprising flexibility. “Man, these things are nice, though! Who knew I’d get such an upgrade?”
I covered my eyes dramatically. “Look, I don’t care how upgraded you feel. You gotta give me back my wife.”
“Aww, you’re no fun,” Dave said, pouting with Carol’s perfectly glossed lips. “Tell ya what, how about a drink? Got any beer? Carol’s got an awesome fridge, by the way. I checked. Craft beer up the wazoo.”
I stared at Dave... I mean, Carol. My life was turning into some kind of bad reality TV show. “I’m not getting you a beer.”
Dave shrugged again. “Your loss, bud. Guess we’re just gonna chillax here, then.” He settled more comfortably, which was unnervingly mesmerizing and unsettling all at once.
“You can’t just... stay in her. We got a life to live!” I protested, trying to regain some control over the situation. “What’s your deal?”
Dave made a face. Carol’s face. “I dunno. Haven’t been around for, like, 20 years. Kinda forgot what it’s like. Felt a pull when you guys fired up the hot tub. I got zapped in. Don’t get your swim trunks in a twist. I ain’t stayin’ forever. Just wanna have a little fun.”
“A little fun. In my wife’s body.” I rubbed my temples. “Is this real life?”
“Hey, man,” Dave said, his voice taking on a more comforting tone than you'd expect from a middle-aged ghost in a bikini bod. “This isn’t my first possession rodeo. I was here before and then, poof! Got unfinished business, blah, blah.” He waved Carol’s delicately manicured hand dismissively.
I sighed. “Can I at least talk to her?”
Dave rolled his—well, her—eyes. “Fine, gimme a sec.” Then Carol’s posture changed, and she looked at me with clear recognition.
“Babe?” I asked, testing the waters.
“Yeah?” she said, sounding like herself. “Why am I so… tingly?”
“Long story short? Dave’s in there with you,” I explained, as briefly and as sanely as I could under the circumstances.
“Oh... great,” she said, before Dave’s deep guffaw drowned her out and she visibly transformed from curious wife to mischievous former homeowner.
“Now, what about those beers?” Dave said, breaking the moment’s tension with a gut-wrenching laugh. “And maybe while we’re at it, let’s invite some friends over. You won’t believe how great your lady’s gonna be at hosting now.”
I had no idea how I was going to deal with the ghostly visitor, but one thing was certain: Dave may have been a heck of an unwelcome guest, but he surely knew how to fill out Carol’s low-cut tops. And darn it, Dave really was the life of the party... if only this party wasn’t my life.
And that's how an unsuspecting husband found himself with an unexpected, busty roommate.
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 lots of dialogue where Me and my wife had just bought a new house. The realtor had told us it was haunted but we didn’t believe him. We had just installed a hot tub in our place. The first we went out to use it my where had begun to spasm and she was possessed by the former owner of the house Dave. Now he’s sitting in the hot tub enjoying the view of his new busty body. He looks over at me and lets out a masculine sounding laugh. I don't know how I'm going to do deal with some dude being in my wife's busty body, it just feels strange. I will say though Dave is the life of the party and when he wears her bikini's and low-cut tops, he certainly fills them well. Give Dave a middle-aged American man accent in the story.
Response: We'd just bought the place, a charming little house at the end of Maple Street. Our real estate agent, Bob, had gone on about its character and history, adding a casual mention that it was “probably” haunted. We didn’t believe in all of that nonsense; after all, what’s a little rumor in a competitive market? It was our brand-new hot tub that drew us outside on that fateful evening. I had just slipped in, letting the hot water melt away the day, when my wife, Carol, gave a little shiver and then a whole lot more. Before I knew it, she was thrashing about, and I was starting to freak out. “Carol! You okay?” I shouted, trying to grab her, but she pushed me away with surprising force. Then, the thrashing stopped as abruptly as it started. Carol looked at me with wide eyes, a little too wide. And then… she gave a deep, belly laugh that was distinctly not from my petite, soprano-voiced wife. “Heh, heh,” she—or rather, he—said. “Mind if I join ya?” “What in the fresh hell is going on?” I asked, mostly to myself. “Name’s Dave,” the voice declared proudly. “Used to live here. Looks like I’m back!” I blinked, trying to wrap my head around this. “Dave? Like the guy who the realtor said might be haunting the place?” “Ding ding! We got a winner!” Dave grinned, stretching Carol’s lips in a manner most unnatural. “Man, it feels good to have these… uh, muscles again.” He looked down appreciatively. “Those aren’t muscles, Dave. That’s my wife’s—um—upper body.” “Tomato, tomahto,” Dave shrugged, leaning back and crossing Carol’s legs with surprising flexibility. “Man, these things are nice, though! Who knew I’d get such an upgrade?” I covered my eyes dramatically. “Look, I don’t care how upgraded you feel. You gotta give me back my wife.” “Aww, you’re no fun,” Dave said, pouting with Carol’s perfectly glossed lips. “Tell ya what, how about a drink? Got any beer? Carol’s got an awesome fridge, by the way. I checked. Craft beer up the wazoo.” I stared at Dave... I mean, Carol. My life was turning into some kind of bad reality TV show. “I’m not getting you a beer.” Dave shrugged again. “Your loss, bud. Guess we’re just gonna chillax here, then.” He settled more comfortably, which was unnervingly mesmerizing and unsettling all at once. “You can’t just... stay in her. We got a life to live!” I protested, trying to regain some control over the situation. “What’s your deal?” Dave made a face. Carol’s face. “I dunno. Haven’t been around for, like, 20 years. Kinda forgot what it’s like. Felt a pull when you guys fired up the hot tub. I got zapped in. Don’t get your swim trunks in a twist. I ain’t stayin’ forever. Just wanna have a little fun.” “A little fun. In my wife’s body.” I rubbed my temples. “Is this real life?” “Hey, man,” Dave said, his voice taking on a more comforting tone than you'd expect from a middle-aged ghost in a bikini bod. “This isn’t my first possession rodeo. I was here before and then, poof! Got unfinished business, blah, blah.” He waved Carol’s delicately manicured hand dismissively. I sighed. “Can I at least talk to her?” Dave rolled his—well, her—eyes. “Fine, gimme a sec.” Then Carol’s posture changed, and she looked at me with clear recognition. “Babe?” I asked, testing the waters. “Yeah?” she said, sounding like herself. “Why am I so… tingly?” “Long story short? Dave’s in there with you,” I explained, as briefly and as sanely as I could under the circumstances. “Oh... great,” she said, before Dave’s deep guffaw drowned her out and she visibly transformed from curious wife to mischievous former homeowner. “Now, what about those beers?” Dave said, breaking the moment’s tension with a gut-wrenching laugh. “And maybe while we’re at it, let’s invite some friends over. You won’t believe how great your lady’s gonna be at hosting now.” I had no idea how I was going to deal with the ghostly visitor, but one thing was certain: Dave may have been a heck of an unwelcome guest, but he surely knew how to fill out Carol’s low-cut tops. And darn it, Dave really was the life of the party... if only this party wasn’t my life. And that's how an unsuspecting husband found himself with an unexpected, busty roommate.
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