Clone Home
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Title: Clone Home
I stood in the middle of my living room, staring at the remote that had wreaked havoc on the world—or, at least, made it infinitely more interesting. My wife, Mary, walked in, her vibrant red hair glowing in the sunlight. Her wide, sexy hips sashayed with each step, and I wondered if I should tell her about what I just did. Instead, I sheepishly hid the remote behind my back.
"Dave, what are you hiding?" she asked suspiciously.
"Um... nothing! Just, uh, checking the batteries!" I stammered.
She raised an eyebrow but shrugged, heading into the kitchen. I could hear the clones' voices coming from the TV, multiple Marys rapping about their impressive assets. This was going to be a weird day.
Curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to explore the world that now mirrored my wife's curvaceous allure. I pulled on a jacket and opened the front door.
My neighbor Bob—now apparently "Bobbette"—stood outside watering his begonias. He wore a flowery dress, his voluptuous frame exactly like Mary's.
“Hey there, Bob, erm, Bobbette,” I said, failing to suppress a chuckle.
“Hey, Dave! Nice day, isn’t it? These begonias aren't going to water themselves.” Bobbette’s high-pitched voice was... bewildering.
I nodded and waved as I walked past, noting how Bobbette adjusted his—err, her—too-tight top every few seconds. This was beyond bizarre.
As I reached the corner, more clones revealed themselves. A group of children gathered around a lemonade stand, every one of them a pint-sized version of Mary, shouting in unison about their fresh lemonade.
“Lemonade, fifty cents! Lemonade, fifty cents!” they chanted.
I stopped by and dropped a dollar on the table. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you, sir!” they chorused, curtsying in unison. I walked away shaking my head, sipping the sweet, tangy drink.
Passing by the basketball court, I saw the high-school team practicing. Each player had Mary's appearance, complete with their bright red hair pulled back in tight ponytails. Greg, the coach, approached me.
“Hey, Dave! You catching our boys in action?” Greg—now “Greta” in form—beamed proudly.
“Yeah, they... sure got some new moves!” I replied, watching "Mike" and "John" hustle up and down the court, their uniforms straining to contain—well, you know.
Greta sighed. “It's been quite a change, let me tell you. I had to give them new motivation speeches.”
“Like what?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Like how to distract the opponent with synchronized hip movements. And let me tell you, those three-pointers are something now!”
“Good luck with that,” I managed, before hurrying on my way.
I decided to check out the local gym. Inside, every treadmill, weight station, and yoga mat was occupied by a Mary clone. They were all intensely focused on their respective exercises, making the gym look like some sort of erotic Stepford Wives assembly line.
“Feel the burn, ladies!” yelled a typically buff trainer, Pat, who was now also a curvy clone of Mary. It was surreal to see Pat's usual six-pack replaced by... well, you get the picture.
“Wow, that's... some progress there, Pat,” I stammered.
“Yeah, Dave, thanks!” Pat giggled, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Running a beauty contest rather than a boot camp, but hey, gains are gains, right?”
I barely heard her, partly because I was distracted by the rack—of dumbbells—and partly because I was searching the remote’s manual for an “undo” button.
Finally, I ended up at the local diner. Behind the counter, Luann—now “Lu” with the familiar assets—was slinging pancakes and pouring coffee like nothing had changed. Her tight uniform left little to the imagination as she sashayed from customer to customer.
“Hey, Big Dawg!” she greeted, plopping a gigantic stack of pancakes in front of me. “What’ll it be?”
“Uhh, just coffee, thanks,” I said, still flipping through the manual.
“Coming right up, sugar!” she winked. I shivered. But just as I found the right section in the manual, the coffee arrived.
"Here you go!” Luann said.
“I did it!” I accidentally yelled, causing all the patrons (all Mary clones, of course) to stare at me.
“Uh, did what?” Luann asked.
“Fixed... the car! Yeah, that remote starter was tricky!” I babbled.
I hesitated just a moment, then grinned with relief as I pressed the “Original Mode” button. Around me, transformations started occurring rapidly—the Mary clones reverted back to their original selves. The diner erupted into confusion as people rediscovered their former bodies.
Luann no longer looked like Mary; she was back to her former sturdy, middle-aged charm. “What in tarnation just happened?” she shouted.
I sighed in relief and snuck out the door. Returning home, Mary met me at the door, her familiar red hair and other features exactly as they should be.
“Dave, where have you been?” she asked.
“Oh, around town,” I grinned, “Just... enjoying the view.”
She shook her head with a half-smile, and I pocketed the remote.
Maybe I should save the cloning for a more appropriate occasion—like my next high school reunion. Now that, would be something!
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: I had a new clone remote that could alter reality and clone people. I decided to use it on my wife with her vibrant red hair and her large massive boobs mixed with her wide sexy hips and large sexy ass. I pressed the clone button and somehow managed to make everyone on planet earth a clone of my wife. I flipped through TV channels seeing a basketball game all the players had my wife's busty body but they all still had the same names. I flipped over and found a rap music video with my wife rapping about her big boobs and clones of her twerking and shaking in the camera. I flipped on an alpha male podcast and heard my wife talking. It was all so crazy. I should explore more of this strange world with everyone looking like my hot wife. Write the story with lots of dialogue.
Response: Title: Clone Home I stood in the middle of my living room, staring at the remote that had wreaked havoc on the world—or, at least, made it infinitely more interesting. My wife, Mary, walked in, her vibrant red hair glowing in the sunlight. Her wide, sexy hips sashayed with each step, and I wondered if I should tell her about what I just did. Instead, I sheepishly hid the remote behind my back. "Dave, what are you hiding?" she asked suspiciously. "Um... nothing! Just, uh, checking the batteries!" I stammered. She raised an eyebrow but shrugged, heading into the kitchen. I could hear the clones' voices coming from the TV, multiple Marys rapping about their impressive assets. This was going to be a weird day. Curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to explore the world that now mirrored my wife's curvaceous allure. I pulled on a jacket and opened the front door. My neighbor Bob—now apparently "Bobbette"—stood outside watering his begonias. He wore a flowery dress, his voluptuous frame exactly like Mary's. “Hey there, Bob, erm, Bobbette,” I said, failing to suppress a chuckle. “Hey, Dave! Nice day, isn’t it? These begonias aren't going to water themselves.” Bobbette’s high-pitched voice was... bewildering. I nodded and waved as I walked past, noting how Bobbette adjusted his—err, her—too-tight top every few seconds. This was beyond bizarre. As I reached the corner, more clones revealed themselves. A group of children gathered around a lemonade stand, every one of them a pint-sized version of Mary, shouting in unison about their fresh lemonade. “Lemonade, fifty cents! Lemonade, fifty cents!” they chanted. I stopped by and dropped a dollar on the table. “Keep the change.” “Thank you, sir!” they chorused, curtsying in unison. I walked away shaking my head, sipping the sweet, tangy drink. Passing by the basketball court, I saw the high-school team practicing. Each player had Mary's appearance, complete with their bright red hair pulled back in tight ponytails. Greg, the coach, approached me. “Hey, Dave! You catching our boys in action?” Greg—now “Greta” in form—beamed proudly. “Yeah, they... sure got some new moves!” I replied, watching "Mike" and "John" hustle up and down the court, their uniforms straining to contain—well, you know. Greta sighed. “It's been quite a change, let me tell you. I had to give them new motivation speeches.” “Like what?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Like how to distract the opponent with synchronized hip movements. And let me tell you, those three-pointers are something now!” “Good luck with that,” I managed, before hurrying on my way. I decided to check out the local gym. Inside, every treadmill, weight station, and yoga mat was occupied by a Mary clone. They were all intensely focused on their respective exercises, making the gym look like some sort of erotic Stepford Wives assembly line. “Feel the burn, ladies!” yelled a typically buff trainer, Pat, who was now also a curvy clone of Mary. It was surreal to see Pat's usual six-pack replaced by... well, you get the picture. “Wow, that's... some progress there, Pat,” I stammered. “Yeah, Dave, thanks!” Pat giggled, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Running a beauty contest rather than a boot camp, but hey, gains are gains, right?” I barely heard her, partly because I was distracted by the rack—of dumbbells—and partly because I was searching the remote’s manual for an “undo” button. Finally, I ended up at the local diner. Behind the counter, Luann—now “Lu” with the familiar assets—was slinging pancakes and pouring coffee like nothing had changed. Her tight uniform left little to the imagination as she sashayed from customer to customer. “Hey, Big Dawg!” she greeted, plopping a gigantic stack of pancakes in front of me. “What’ll it be?” “Uhh, just coffee, thanks,” I said, still flipping through the manual. “Coming right up, sugar!” she winked. I shivered. But just as I found the right section in the manual, the coffee arrived. "Here you go!” Luann said. “I did it!” I accidentally yelled, causing all the patrons (all Mary clones, of course) to stare at me. “Uh, did what?” Luann asked. “Fixed... the car! Yeah, that remote starter was tricky!” I babbled. I hesitated just a moment, then grinned with relief as I pressed the “Original Mode” button. Around me, transformations started occurring rapidly—the Mary clones reverted back to their original selves. The diner erupted into confusion as people rediscovered their former bodies. Luann no longer looked like Mary; she was back to her former sturdy, middle-aged charm. “What in tarnation just happened?” she shouted. I sighed in relief and snuck out the door. Returning home, Mary met me at the door, her familiar red hair and other features exactly as they should be. “Dave, where have you been?” she asked. “Oh, around town,” I grinned, “Just... enjoying the view.” She shook her head with a half-smile, and I pocketed the remote. Maybe I should save the cloning for a more appropriate occasion—like my next high school reunion. Now that, would be something!
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