"Brother, Where Art Thou... as a Woman?"
0 Points
0
I strolled around Heathrow Airport, scanning the crowds for any sign of my newly-bodied brother. It was like a bizarre game of "Where's Waldo?" except Waldo had become Wenda and could be anywhere among the throngs of travelers.
"Dave!"
A smooth, feminine, and alarmingly posh British accent cut through the noise. I turned and blinked several times, hoping my retinas weren't fooling me. A stunning, blonde woman was waving frantically, a bright pink roller bag in tow. Oh boy. There he was—or rather, there she was: my brother, now encased in the undoubtedly perplexing body of a woman named Emily from London.
"Dude, is that you?"
"Of course, it's me!" The beautiful blonde—I mean, my brother—hurried over and nearly tackled me in a bear hug. "Surprise!"
"Yeah, you could say that again," I mumbled as I peeled myself away from the estrogen-filled embrace. "So, are you, like, okay?"
"Never better, bro! Got the accent and everything! How do you like my new digs?" He—or she?—spun around, and I couldn’t help but notice the distinct curves. I mean, come on, those were impossible to miss.
"Holy crap, you've got boobs!"
"Perceptive as ever, Dave." My brother—let's call him Emily for clarity—smirked. "Come on, let's get outta here. I've been practicing strutting in these heels, but they're no picnic."
As we navigated the crowded airport, I couldn't help but glance sideways at Em—gah, my brother. This was just too weird. I caught myself staring at his—her?—assets more times than I’d like to admit.
"Dude, eyes up here!" Em (I’m sticking with that) laughed, nudging me with an elbow. "I know they’re impressive, but try to control yourself."
"Sorry, it's just... yes, okay, they’re impressive. How many bags do you have anyway?" I stared at the rolling mountain of luggage he convinced me to cart through the terminal.
"Hey, beauty comes with baggage," Em quipped, causing others around us to giggle. "Literally and figuratively."
"How many clothes do you need? I can't believe you packed your whole life."
Em looked at me, her smile fading a bit. "It's not my life, bro. But I'm working on it."
I sighed. "Fair point. Alright, hop in the car. Let’s get you home."
As we drove, Em flicked through radio stations, settling on a pop channel. "Do you remember that time you put glue on my chair in Mrs. Jensen's class?"
"Yeah," I chuckled, "good times."
"Well, I could use a laugh like that right now. Things have been... different. I mean, do you know how long it takes me to pee now?!"
I burst out laughing, nearly swerving into another lane. "So how's the love life? Dating anyone? Or are you scared they're just into you for your jugs?"
"Believe it or not, guys like me for my personality." Em gave a faux offended look. "Plus, I get to mess with so many people's minds. It’s hilarious. You should see their faces when I belch louder than a trucker."
"That, I’d pay to see," I said, genuinely laughing now. It was strange, but my brother was still very much in there, even in this curvy, foreign body. And I was kinda hoping we’d keep this humor going—it was just what we both needed.
As we pulled into my driveway, Em threw an arm around my shoulders. "Thanks, Dave. For this, I mean. It’s weird, it's uncomfortable, but it helps having you to laugh about it."
I smiled, feeling a little more at ease about the whole situation. "Anytime, Em. Now let's figure out how you’re gonna fit all those bags into my tiny apartment."
"Easy," Em grinned. "We’ll just stack them sideways. Like my life right now."
As awkward and insane as it was, I was ready to tackle this shifted reality with my brother by my side—because no matter how busty or British he got, he’d always be my brother.
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 My brother was one of the people who got effected by the great shift which was an event that swapped 70 percent of the worlds bodies. He got put in the body of a girl named Emily who was from London he even got her accent somehow. My mom told me I had to pick him up and let him stay with me. I still don’t know what he looks like for sure. I walk around the airport for awhile to look for him. Until I hear a feminine “Dave, bro its me.” I look over to see a beautiful and busty blonde walking over with a pink roller bag. He smiles and hugs me and thanks me for letting him stay with me while he sorts things out. I just didn't think he would have so many bags I mean how many clothes does he need. I cant stop staring at his boobs he has caught me multiple times and likes to tease me about it. He is still his same joke telling and snarky brother he's always been just with a new much more curvy body.
Response: I strolled around Heathrow Airport, scanning the crowds for any sign of my newly-bodied brother. It was like a bizarre game of "Where's Waldo?" except Waldo had become Wenda and could be anywhere among the throngs of travelers. "Dave!" A smooth, feminine, and alarmingly posh British accent cut through the noise. I turned and blinked several times, hoping my retinas weren't fooling me. A stunning, blonde woman was waving frantically, a bright pink roller bag in tow. Oh boy. There he was—or rather, there she was: my brother, now encased in the undoubtedly perplexing body of a woman named Emily from London. "Dude, is that you?" "Of course, it's me!" The beautiful blonde—I mean, my brother—hurried over and nearly tackled me in a bear hug. "Surprise!" "Yeah, you could say that again," I mumbled as I peeled myself away from the estrogen-filled embrace. "So, are you, like, okay?" "Never better, bro! Got the accent and everything! How do you like my new digs?" He—or she?—spun around, and I couldn’t help but notice the distinct curves. I mean, come on, those were impossible to miss. "Holy crap, you've got boobs!" "Perceptive as ever, Dave." My brother—let's call him Emily for clarity—smirked. "Come on, let's get outta here. I've been practicing strutting in these heels, but they're no picnic." As we navigated the crowded airport, I couldn't help but glance sideways at Em—gah, my brother. This was just too weird. I caught myself staring at his—her?—assets more times than I’d like to admit. "Dude, eyes up here!" Em (I’m sticking with that) laughed, nudging me with an elbow. "I know they’re impressive, but try to control yourself." "Sorry, it's just... yes, okay, they’re impressive. How many bags do you have anyway?" I stared at the rolling mountain of luggage he convinced me to cart through the terminal. "Hey, beauty comes with baggage," Em quipped, causing others around us to giggle. "Literally and figuratively." "How many clothes do you need? I can't believe you packed your whole life." Em looked at me, her smile fading a bit. "It's not my life, bro. But I'm working on it." I sighed. "Fair point. Alright, hop in the car. Let’s get you home." As we drove, Em flicked through radio stations, settling on a pop channel. "Do you remember that time you put glue on my chair in Mrs. Jensen's class?" "Yeah," I chuckled, "good times." "Well, I could use a laugh like that right now. Things have been... different. I mean, do you know how long it takes me to pee now?!" I burst out laughing, nearly swerving into another lane. "So how's the love life? Dating anyone? Or are you scared they're just into you for your jugs?" "Believe it or not, guys like me for my personality." Em gave a faux offended look. "Plus, I get to mess with so many people's minds. It’s hilarious. You should see their faces when I belch louder than a trucker." "That, I’d pay to see," I said, genuinely laughing now. It was strange, but my brother was still very much in there, even in this curvy, foreign body. And I was kinda hoping we’d keep this humor going—it was just what we both needed. As we pulled into my driveway, Em threw an arm around my shoulders. "Thanks, Dave. For this, I mean. It’s weird, it's uncomfortable, but it helps having you to laugh about it." I smiled, feeling a little more at ease about the whole situation. "Anytime, Em. Now let's figure out how you’re gonna fit all those bags into my tiny apartment." "Easy," Em grinned. "We’ll just stack them sideways. Like my life right now." As awkward and insane as it was, I was ready to tackle this shifted reality with my brother by my side—because no matter how busty or British he got, he’d always be my brother.
Post your own comment: