Curveballs and Curves
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Title: Curveballs and Curves
Growing up, my brother and I lived and breathed baseball. He was the superstar, outshining everyone with his formidable skills. He looked like a sure shot for joining the pros after college. And then the Great Shift happened, a cosmic mishap that swapped 50 percent of the population's bodies. My macho, muscle-packed brother woke up as our curvy, feminine mother.
âHey Bro-Mom,â or "Mombro," as I started to call him, "Wanna play catch?" I asked one day, trying to make light of the strange and humorous situation.
âOh, screw you, dude!â he griped, with a hand against a hip that had once been far less shapely. His disgruntled face didnât match with mom's polished makeup and those french tipped nails which added to the hilarity.
Despite his initial stubbornness, Mombro was a sportsman at heart. He started building âmomâ into a formidable shape for the Coed baseball season. His high school friends were stunned, but they couldnât resist teasing.
âForget the Bulldogs, Dude, your new team name should be Boobytraps!â They chortled. Momâs well-endowed chest did indeed warp the Bulldogs font on his jersey, and those assets had taken some getting used to. He never stopped complaining about their interference with his throwing since day one.
During one of the co-ed games, Mombro prepped to catch a fast incoming ball. Suddenly, he grimaced, doubling over and clutching his chest. The quiet caused everyone's breath to catch. Then, the realization hit us, He'd taken one right to the boob! Everyone broke into laughter as Mombro spent the next few minutes massaging his chest and cursing.
But perhaps the funniest moment of all was during another game. Mombro went for a dive to catch. He missed with his mitt, but the ball disappeared. It seemed gone ⌠until Mombro stood, triumphantly lifting the baseball, lodged secure between his bosom.
âDude, did yourâŚâ one of his friends started but couldnât finish from laughing too hard.
âI guess if you got âem, use âem,â Mombro shrugged, returning the ball.
Life after the Shift wasnât easy for my baseball-lover brother. But he taught me to take things in stride and keep finding humor in strange circumstances. More than anything, it just hammered home the saying, âBaseball is 90 percent mental. The other half is physical.â Just his luck, Mombro had to juggle both halves in forms he never imagined!
This story was generated by user zach3 with assistance by one of OpenAIâs 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 a lot of dialogue where Me and my brother loved baseball. We both played together growing up. We was a far better player than me and he was probably going to get drafted to the pros after college. That was before the great shift which was an occurrence that swapped 50 percent of thew populations bodies came and swapped him into our motherâs curvy and busty body. Obviously he was pretty bummed out at first, especially when we first decided to play a game of catch he had a hard time throwing with his new boobs in the way he always complained about moms french tipped nails throwing off his grip too. but my brother has always taken things in stride. He decided to workout momâs body and get her ready for Coed baseball season where he played with some of his friends from high school they liked to tease him and make nicknames about his new body but he was having fun and still was the best player in the team even with the two large hindrances on his chest. One time he even got it by a pitch on the boob which caused me and all his buddies to laugh or that other time he went for a diving catch and the ball landed in his mountainous cleavage, hey still counts as an out right even if you catch it with your boobs. I didnât know mom was in such good shape. He did struggle to adjust to moms new breasts but over time he grow to get used to them but his usual BullDogs font across his jersey was warped by moms chestiness. He also struggled to find pants to fit over my curvy ass and wipe hips.
Response: Title: Curveballs and Curves Growing up, my brother and I lived and breathed baseball. He was the superstar, outshining everyone with his formidable skills. He looked like a sure shot for joining the pros after college. And then the Great Shift happened, a cosmic mishap that swapped 50 percent of the population's bodies. My macho, muscle-packed brother woke up as our curvy, feminine mother. âHey Bro-Mom,â or "Mombro," as I started to call him, "Wanna play catch?" I asked one day, trying to make light of the strange and humorous situation. âOh, screw you, dude!â he griped, with a hand against a hip that had once been far less shapely. His disgruntled face didnât match with mom's polished makeup and those french tipped nails which added to the hilarity. Despite his initial stubbornness, Mombro was a sportsman at heart. He started building âmomâ into a formidable shape for the Coed baseball season. His high school friends were stunned, but they couldnât resist teasing. âForget the Bulldogs, Dude, your new team name should be Boobytraps!â They chortled. Momâs well-endowed chest did indeed warp the Bulldogs font on his jersey, and those assets had taken some getting used to. He never stopped complaining about their interference with his throwing since day one. During one of the co-ed games, Mombro prepped to catch a fast incoming ball. Suddenly, he grimaced, doubling over and clutching his chest. The quiet caused everyone's breath to catch. Then, the realization hit us, He'd taken one right to the boob! Everyone broke into laughter as Mombro spent the next few minutes massaging his chest and cursing. But perhaps the funniest moment of all was during another game. Mombro went for a dive to catch. He missed with his mitt, but the ball disappeared. It seemed gone ⌠until Mombro stood, triumphantly lifting the baseball, lodged secure between his bosom. âDude, did yourâŚâ one of his friends started but couldnât finish from laughing too hard. âI guess if you got âem, use âem,â Mombro shrugged, returning the ball. Life after the Shift wasnât easy for my baseball-lover brother. But he taught me to take things in stride and keep finding humor in strange circumstances. More than anything, it just hammered home the saying, âBaseball is 90 percent mental. The other half is physical.â Just his luck, Mombro had to juggle both halves in forms he never imagined!
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