"Dad, You're Embarrassing Me"
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Title: "Dad, You're Embarrassing Me"
***
The bell rang, and students shuffled out of Ms. Johnson's English class, me included. I tried to blend into the crowd, hoping no one would notice the mortifying situation that awaited me at home. This year was supposed to be different—junior year, the year I'd finally muster up the courage to talk to Kimberly Swanson, the hottest girl in school. Instead, a cosmic joke had turned my life into an awkward nightmare.
I trudged home, dragging my backpack like a ball and chain. As I turned the corner onto Maple Street, dread bubbled in my gut. There, on the front lawn, "Dad"—or Kimberly, rather—was tinkering with the lawnmower, her glossy brunette ponytail swaying with every mechanical adjustment.
"Aren't you going to say hi, buddy?" she called, Dad's voice coming from Kimberly's mouth, which was just wrong on every conceivable level.
I shuddered and waved weakly. "Uh, h-hey, Dad."
Kimberly—or, my dad, rather—gave a thumbs up and a broad grin. "Come on, son, it's time for our bonding activity! We've got a date!"
I had to take a moment to steady myself. "A date? Dad, this feels weird. And Kim—uh, she probably wouldn’t—"
My Dad, in Kimberly’s body, stood up, causing her tight jeans to strain slightly. She—he?—wiped greasy hands on a nearby rag and sauntered over. My palms were sweating.
"Relax, Alex. It'll give you practice! Plus, I told Kimberly about your crush, and she said you’re a cute guy. So this is a win-win!" Dad—Kimberly—patted my back, a bit too hard.
My grimace must have been obvious. "Dad, please. You in her body just makes this...uncomfortable."
"I know! That's why this is perfect game-time simulation!" Dad-in-Kimberly winked. "You wouldn’t pass up the chance to know what she thinks of you, right?”
As we walked into the house, I was greeted by the sight of Kimberly—my dad—attempting to do her makeup. Pink hues clashed with blue eyeshadow; it looked like a unicorn had sneezed on her face.
"Just a sec, need to fix my face," Dad said in Kimberly's sing-song voice. "Think of where you want to take me."
Great, now I had the responsibility to choose a date spot. I finally settled on Mogie's Diner—safe and public, so anything too bizarre could be contained. Minutes later, Dad walked out in Kimberly’s tight jeans and a gray top that showcased some belly, and a disturbingly snug bra outline.
“Ready, son?” Kimberly’s voice chirped. I cringed inside.
The walk to Mogie’s was punctuated with mortifying details about my secret crush that Dad had extracted from Kimberly.
"So Kimberly thinks I’m cute?" I ventured, trying to find something normal in this absurdity.
"Absolutely! She even thinks you’re brave for daring to adore the school's queen bee," Dad said, smiling.
By the time we reached the diner, I felt like I had run a psychological marathon. We sat in a booth, and Dad handed me one of Kimberly’s lip glosses.
"Quick tip: compliments always work. Try 'Your lip gloss is as radiant as your smile.'"
Mogie, our waitress, arrived, did a double-take, shot me a sympathetic look, and took our orders.
"Alright, just checking: Alexandra, Diet Coke, and a cheeseburger?” Mogie said.
“Make mine a salad, I'm watching my figure.” Dad winked. Just no.
“Sure thing, Kimberly,” Mogie said. “Alex, hang in there.”
Dinner was a blur. Every second felt like an eternity compressed into Kimberly’s overly tight jeans. Dad kept pushing me to compliment him/her, and I, red-faced, ricocheted between mortification and attempts at coherent conversation.
Back home, Dad-in-Kimberly leaned on the doorframe. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Dad,” I started, trying to find words appropriate for this surreal situation, “just… thanks, I guess?”
Dad ruffled my hair—Kimberly’s long nails grazing my scalp. “Prepare for more practice dates, champ. We’re going to nail this!”
I trudged upstairs, contemplating how this semester could get any worse. Maybe when Kimberly’s boyfriend came looking for a bit of...school spirit. Now that would be awkward.
As if on cue, my phone buzzed with a text—from Kimberly herself.
“Hey Alex, I heard my body's been on a date with you? Can't wait to hear about it! ;)”
Mortified, I could only think of one thing: begging the universe for mercy. Or maybe just asking for a normal dad. Either would do.
The End.
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 Things can get very awkward when your dad is a swap class teacher. He’s been teaching the class for a couple years now. Usually there’s an even number of students but this year it was odd. He had to swap with one of the hottest girls in school this semester. So now he swapped bodies with Kimberly a hot brunette and the hottest and bustiest girl in school. All semester she's going to be at my house acting like my dad. God this is awkward and even worse my dad somehow found out my crush on her so now he is going to try and have a fake date with me and try his best to act like her he even did her makeup and put on a nice outfit that consisted of some tight jeans that hugged her curvaceous backside, and a gray top that showed off a bit of belly and was tight around his busty form, I even saw the outline of his bra. He has told her about my crush too. How could this get any worse.
Response: Title: "Dad, You're Embarrassing Me" *** The bell rang, and students shuffled out of Ms. Johnson's English class, me included. I tried to blend into the crowd, hoping no one would notice the mortifying situation that awaited me at home. This year was supposed to be different—junior year, the year I'd finally muster up the courage to talk to Kimberly Swanson, the hottest girl in school. Instead, a cosmic joke had turned my life into an awkward nightmare. I trudged home, dragging my backpack like a ball and chain. As I turned the corner onto Maple Street, dread bubbled in my gut. There, on the front lawn, "Dad"—or Kimberly, rather—was tinkering with the lawnmower, her glossy brunette ponytail swaying with every mechanical adjustment. "Aren't you going to say hi, buddy?" she called, Dad's voice coming from Kimberly's mouth, which was just wrong on every conceivable level. I shuddered and waved weakly. "Uh, h-hey, Dad." Kimberly—or, my dad, rather—gave a thumbs up and a broad grin. "Come on, son, it's time for our bonding activity! We've got a date!" I had to take a moment to steady myself. "A date? Dad, this feels weird. And Kim—uh, she probably wouldn’t—" My Dad, in Kimberly’s body, stood up, causing her tight jeans to strain slightly. She—he?—wiped greasy hands on a nearby rag and sauntered over. My palms were sweating. "Relax, Alex. It'll give you practice! Plus, I told Kimberly about your crush, and she said you’re a cute guy. So this is a win-win!" Dad—Kimberly—patted my back, a bit too hard. My grimace must have been obvious. "Dad, please. You in her body just makes this...uncomfortable." "I know! That's why this is perfect game-time simulation!" Dad-in-Kimberly winked. "You wouldn’t pass up the chance to know what she thinks of you, right?” As we walked into the house, I was greeted by the sight of Kimberly—my dad—attempting to do her makeup. Pink hues clashed with blue eyeshadow; it looked like a unicorn had sneezed on her face. "Just a sec, need to fix my face," Dad said in Kimberly's sing-song voice. "Think of where you want to take me." Great, now I had the responsibility to choose a date spot. I finally settled on Mogie's Diner—safe and public, so anything too bizarre could be contained. Minutes later, Dad walked out in Kimberly’s tight jeans and a gray top that showcased some belly, and a disturbingly snug bra outline. “Ready, son?” Kimberly’s voice chirped. I cringed inside. The walk to Mogie’s was punctuated with mortifying details about my secret crush that Dad had extracted from Kimberly. "So Kimberly thinks I’m cute?" I ventured, trying to find something normal in this absurdity. "Absolutely! She even thinks you’re brave for daring to adore the school's queen bee," Dad said, smiling. By the time we reached the diner, I felt like I had run a psychological marathon. We sat in a booth, and Dad handed me one of Kimberly’s lip glosses. "Quick tip: compliments always work. Try 'Your lip gloss is as radiant as your smile.'" Mogie, our waitress, arrived, did a double-take, shot me a sympathetic look, and took our orders. "Alright, just checking: Alexandra, Diet Coke, and a cheeseburger?” Mogie said. “Make mine a salad, I'm watching my figure.” Dad winked. Just no. “Sure thing, Kimberly,” Mogie said. “Alex, hang in there.” Dinner was a blur. Every second felt like an eternity compressed into Kimberly’s overly tight jeans. Dad kept pushing me to compliment him/her, and I, red-faced, ricocheted between mortification and attempts at coherent conversation. Back home, Dad-in-Kimberly leaned on the doorframe. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “Dad,” I started, trying to find words appropriate for this surreal situation, “just… thanks, I guess?” Dad ruffled my hair—Kimberly’s long nails grazing my scalp. “Prepare for more practice dates, champ. We’re going to nail this!” I trudged upstairs, contemplating how this semester could get any worse. Maybe when Kimberly’s boyfriend came looking for a bit of...school spirit. Now that would be awkward. As if on cue, my phone buzzed with a text—from Kimberly herself. “Hey Alex, I heard my body's been on a date with you? Can't wait to hear about it! ;)” Mortified, I could only think of one thing: begging the universe for mercy. Or maybe just asking for a normal dad. Either would do. The End.
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