Busting Out
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Title: Busting Out
In a small, dingy apartment, I sat hunched over an ancient, dusty tome titled "Sorcery for Dummies: How to Bend Reality in 4 Easy Steps". My buddy, Frank, was rotting away in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Unfortunately, our best minds couldn’t come up with anything better than a stern letter to the mayor. Just when I thought we’d hit rock bottom, I stumbled upon the spell—a soul-swapping incantation. Talk about a Hail Mary!
"Alright, step one," I muttered, tracing the instructions with a trembling finger. "Light some candles for the ambiance. Check. Step two, recite this tongue-twister Latin phrase. Got it. Step three, point and shoot!" I exhaled deeply, fingers crossed, and began chanting.
Frank’s spectral form surfaced in the air like a grainy movie projection. As the spell's climax approached, I targeted a tall, muscular guy walking down the street. Perfect! But fate has a wicked sense of humor. Seconds before the spell fired, a redheaded bombshell, phone in hand, strutted right into the line of mystical fire.
Poof!
Before I could curse the heavens, there stood Frank—well, kind of. He was now a curvy and busty redheaded MILF. Suddenly, the room felt cramped.
"I swear this never happens," I stammered, scratching my head.
"You IDIOT!" Frank's voice, albeit laced with a sultry undertone, pierced through. He stumbled, adjusting to his new, well, assets. "You put me in a woman’s body?"
"Hey, at least you're not in prison," I offered meekly. "You look innocent. Nobody expects a thing from a middle-aged sexy woman."
Frank—now Fran, I guess?—eyed me with suspiciously narrowed eyes. "I was a 6'2", tattooed, and perfectly terrifying dude! Now I—" He broke off, catching his reflection in my cracked bathroom mirror. The realization of his new allure dawned, quickly followed by a smirk.
"See," I nudged him. "You're starting to see the benefits."
Fran’s smirk widened. “Well, I’ve always wondered what it was like to get free drinks.”
We ventured out into the world, Fran adjusting to life in heels and a more, shall we say, attention-grabbing form. On our first night out, we hit a local bar to test the waters. Fran’s new body was like a magnet.
"Drink’s on the house, sweetheart," crooned the bartender for the nth time, sliding yet another colorful concoction Fran's way.
“Boy, this body has its perks!” Fran whispered, batting his newly acquired lashes. “But you better fix this soon!”
I wasn’t entirely listening, distracted by Fran’s ability to masterfully balance grace with a penchant for making grown men weak in the knees. Clearly, he was getting the hang of this new existence quicker than expected. We were on to something big; it just wasn't the "big" we had in mind.
"So, how’s prison treating you now?" I asked, nudging him playfully.
"Let’s just say," Fran replied, swirling his drink with newfound dexterity, “being locked up's got nothing on being locked up in Victoria’s Secret for three hours and then being showered with gifts.”
We both burst out in laughter, the irony not lost on us. But in the back of our minds, the question still loomed—how long could Fran, the ex-tough guy turned ravishing redhead, keep up this charade?
One thing was for sure, though: life with Fran had never been more entertaining.
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 My friend had been locked up in prison for something he didn’t do. I didn’t know what to do. That’s when I found a spell that could throw his soul into a different body. I tried to throw his soul into a guys body, but then a woman stepped in the way and now he’s in her busty body. My friend who used to be a 6'2 and tatted up, now he was in the body of a curvy and busty redheaded MILF. He isn't to pleased, but hey at least he's not locked up and he's got an innocent looking body nobody expects a thing from a middle aged sexy woman. I see him smirk I think he's beginning to see the benefits of his new busty form.
Response: Title: Busting Out In a small, dingy apartment, I sat hunched over an ancient, dusty tome titled "Sorcery for Dummies: How to Bend Reality in 4 Easy Steps". My buddy, Frank, was rotting away in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Unfortunately, our best minds couldn’t come up with anything better than a stern letter to the mayor. Just when I thought we’d hit rock bottom, I stumbled upon the spell—a soul-swapping incantation. Talk about a Hail Mary! "Alright, step one," I muttered, tracing the instructions with a trembling finger. "Light some candles for the ambiance. Check. Step two, recite this tongue-twister Latin phrase. Got it. Step three, point and shoot!" I exhaled deeply, fingers crossed, and began chanting. Frank’s spectral form surfaced in the air like a grainy movie projection. As the spell's climax approached, I targeted a tall, muscular guy walking down the street. Perfect! But fate has a wicked sense of humor. Seconds before the spell fired, a redheaded bombshell, phone in hand, strutted right into the line of mystical fire. Poof! Before I could curse the heavens, there stood Frank—well, kind of. He was now a curvy and busty redheaded MILF. Suddenly, the room felt cramped. "I swear this never happens," I stammered, scratching my head. "You IDIOT!" Frank's voice, albeit laced with a sultry undertone, pierced through. He stumbled, adjusting to his new, well, assets. "You put me in a woman’s body?" "Hey, at least you're not in prison," I offered meekly. "You look innocent. Nobody expects a thing from a middle-aged sexy woman." Frank—now Fran, I guess?—eyed me with suspiciously narrowed eyes. "I was a 6'2", tattooed, and perfectly terrifying dude! Now I—" He broke off, catching his reflection in my cracked bathroom mirror. The realization of his new allure dawned, quickly followed by a smirk. "See," I nudged him. "You're starting to see the benefits." Fran’s smirk widened. “Well, I’ve always wondered what it was like to get free drinks.” We ventured out into the world, Fran adjusting to life in heels and a more, shall we say, attention-grabbing form. On our first night out, we hit a local bar to test the waters. Fran’s new body was like a magnet. "Drink’s on the house, sweetheart," crooned the bartender for the nth time, sliding yet another colorful concoction Fran's way. “Boy, this body has its perks!” Fran whispered, batting his newly acquired lashes. “But you better fix this soon!” I wasn’t entirely listening, distracted by Fran’s ability to masterfully balance grace with a penchant for making grown men weak in the knees. Clearly, he was getting the hang of this new existence quicker than expected. We were on to something big; it just wasn't the "big" we had in mind. "So, how’s prison treating you now?" I asked, nudging him playfully. "Let’s just say," Fran replied, swirling his drink with newfound dexterity, “being locked up's got nothing on being locked up in Victoria’s Secret for three hours and then being showered with gifts.” We both burst out in laughter, the irony not lost on us. But in the back of our minds, the question still loomed—how long could Fran, the ex-tough guy turned ravishing redhead, keep up this charade? One thing was for sure, though: life with Fran had never been more entertaining.
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