"Bro-mance and the Gender Flu"
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Title: "Bro-mance and the Gender Flu"
It started with an itch. No, seriously, it was just an itch, right in the middle of my back. By the end of the next day, I was staring into the mirror, eyes glued to the chestal area. My reflection grinned back, red locks of hair cascading over shoulders I barely recognized.
"Okay, Dave, calm down," I whispered to myself. "You'll get this sorted."
But sorting it out included job loss, as a certain auto shop didn’t believe the new, um, frame fit their aesthetic. My income vanished faster than a donut at a police conference. That's when my mobile buzzed with a call from my best friend, Sam.
"Yo, Dave!" Sam's voice crackled with delight. "It's been ages, man! Wanna grab a beer?"
"Uh, sure," I stuttered, hearing my new melodious timbre. "But there's, uh, been some, um, changes."
An hour later, Sam opened his apartment door, and his jaw hit the floor like a dropped wrench.
"Dave?" he gasped, bug-eyed.
"Yeah, man, it’s me. Got a case of the gender flu. You know how it goes. One minute you're handling wrenches, the next you're... well, looking like this." I gestured vaguely.
"Dude, you're a... bombshell!"
Oh no, the word I dreaded. I knew Sam had a major thing for, let’s call a spade a spade, busty redheads. And now I was the walking embodiment of his ideal crush. This was going to get awkward, fast.
He shook his head, snapping out of whatever galaxy his mind had wandered into. "Come on in, Dave. Or should I call you something else?"
"Still Dave, thanks," I said, dropping into the couch.
"Mi casa es su casa, buddy," Sam said, eyes darting to and back from my new assets which were quite hard to ignore.
"Look," I started, "things are weird enough without any added drama. I'm still your bro. I still love sports and...the ladies. I just happen to, um, look different."
Sam put a hand on my shoulder. "Of course, bro—or sis. I mean, you’re still Dave to me. Even if... your chest defies gravity."
"Gee, thanks for pointing that out," I chuckled, throwing a couch cushion at him.
We spent the next few days adapting to my new norm. One morning I was eating cereal when Sam shuffled in, yawning with bed hair that could rival a bird's nest.
"Got any plans today, Dave?" he asked, pouring himself a scalding cup of life.
"Well, I was thinking of hitting the gym. Gotta get used to this new balance thing," I said, vaguely gesturing to my chest area again.
"Think they make sports bras with hydraulic support?" Sam mused, smirking.
"Har har. Better come with me. Need a spotter and someone to explain why my push-ups are more challenging now."
At the gym, we were quite the spectacle. I could feel gazes tracing my figure, and Sam was frantically running damage control.
"Nice moves, Dave. Just focus. Chin up, chest out...er, well, as little as possible," he said, mostly to himself fortunately.
Later that night, a game blared from the TV, and we sat, feet propped up, throwing popcorn at each other.
"Remember that time we snuck into the stadium?" Sam laughed, referring to our glorious high school days.
"And we got chased out by security? Epic times, man!" I chuckled, mouth full of popcorn.
"Doesn't matter what you look like, Dave. We'll always be dumb teenagers at heart," Sam said, giving me a comforting smile.
"Cheers to that, bro," I said, raising my soda.
We clinked cans, and for the first time since the fateful flu, I felt a sense of normalcy returning. Gender flu or not, some things never change. Like a bromance.
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 After I had gotten a bad case of gender flu which changes your gender. It had turned me into a busty and curvy redhead I didn’t know what to do. I had lost my job at the auto shop and had lost all my income. Luckily my friend had called me and let me move over with him. He is a real life saver. I just hope things between us don’t get awkward. I knew he had a thing for busty redheads and clearly I fit the bill. I just want things to remain normal between us, no matter what I look like I’m still his bro. I still love sports and the ladies no matter if my tits are bigger than most of the ladies we crush on now.
Response: Title: "Bro-mance and the Gender Flu" It started with an itch. No, seriously, it was just an itch, right in the middle of my back. By the end of the next day, I was staring into the mirror, eyes glued to the chestal area. My reflection grinned back, red locks of hair cascading over shoulders I barely recognized. "Okay, Dave, calm down," I whispered to myself. "You'll get this sorted." But sorting it out included job loss, as a certain auto shop didn’t believe the new, um, frame fit their aesthetic. My income vanished faster than a donut at a police conference. That's when my mobile buzzed with a call from my best friend, Sam. "Yo, Dave!" Sam's voice crackled with delight. "It's been ages, man! Wanna grab a beer?" "Uh, sure," I stuttered, hearing my new melodious timbre. "But there's, uh, been some, um, changes." An hour later, Sam opened his apartment door, and his jaw hit the floor like a dropped wrench. "Dave?" he gasped, bug-eyed. "Yeah, man, it’s me. Got a case of the gender flu. You know how it goes. One minute you're handling wrenches, the next you're... well, looking like this." I gestured vaguely. "Dude, you're a... bombshell!" Oh no, the word I dreaded. I knew Sam had a major thing for, let’s call a spade a spade, busty redheads. And now I was the walking embodiment of his ideal crush. This was going to get awkward, fast. He shook his head, snapping out of whatever galaxy his mind had wandered into. "Come on in, Dave. Or should I call you something else?" "Still Dave, thanks," I said, dropping into the couch. "Mi casa es su casa, buddy," Sam said, eyes darting to and back from my new assets which were quite hard to ignore. "Look," I started, "things are weird enough without any added drama. I'm still your bro. I still love sports and...the ladies. I just happen to, um, look different." Sam put a hand on my shoulder. "Of course, bro—or sis. I mean, you’re still Dave to me. Even if... your chest defies gravity." "Gee, thanks for pointing that out," I chuckled, throwing a couch cushion at him. We spent the next few days adapting to my new norm. One morning I was eating cereal when Sam shuffled in, yawning with bed hair that could rival a bird's nest. "Got any plans today, Dave?" he asked, pouring himself a scalding cup of life. "Well, I was thinking of hitting the gym. Gotta get used to this new balance thing," I said, vaguely gesturing to my chest area again. "Think they make sports bras with hydraulic support?" Sam mused, smirking. "Har har. Better come with me. Need a spotter and someone to explain why my push-ups are more challenging now." At the gym, we were quite the spectacle. I could feel gazes tracing my figure, and Sam was frantically running damage control. "Nice moves, Dave. Just focus. Chin up, chest out...er, well, as little as possible," he said, mostly to himself fortunately. Later that night, a game blared from the TV, and we sat, feet propped up, throwing popcorn at each other. "Remember that time we snuck into the stadium?" Sam laughed, referring to our glorious high school days. "And we got chased out by security? Epic times, man!" I chuckled, mouth full of popcorn. "Doesn't matter what you look like, Dave. We'll always be dumb teenagers at heart," Sam said, giving me a comforting smile. "Cheers to that, bro," I said, raising my soda. We clinked cans, and for the first time since the fateful flu, I felt a sense of normalcy returning. Gender flu or not, some things never change. Like a bromance.
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