"Dude Looks Like a Cowgirl: A Tale of Second Puberty"
0 Points
0
I pulled up to Sam's place and couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. There he was—or rather, there *she* was—flipping burgers in a getup that would make Daisy Duke green with envy. Nothing said "former cowboy turned cowgirl" quite like a white tank top straining over a black bra, cutoff jean booty shorts, and a cowboy hat perched atop what used to be a sensible, messy mop of hair. Now it was a cascade of long, golden locks.
"What's up, dude?" I called out, sneaking up on him—whoops, her. Sam's jump was comical enough to make me wish I'd had a camera. Seriously, her spatula flew up as if she'd just been cast in a slapstick comedy.
"What the hell, man? You scared me!" Sam's voice was just the slightest bit higher but still had that familiar gruffness.
"Sorry, I couldn't resist," I said, laughing. "I see you haven't lost your touch with the grill, though. Smells amazing."
She rolled her eyes but smirked, patting her tank top to straighten it out. "Yeah, well, you know me. Can't keep still. Gotta be doing something with my hands." She paused, then looked down at her new assets with a wry grin. "Even if my new hands aren't quite the same."
I grabbed a lawn chair and plopped down. "You still getting used to everything?" I asked, trying to disguise my curiosity with nonchalance.
"Oh, you know," Sam said, flipping a burger with a flourish, "just the usual 'second puberty' shenanigans. Can't look at myself in the mirror without half-laughing and half-wondering if this is all a cosmic joke." She put the spatula down and grabbed a can of beer, cracking it open with a sense of authority that hadn't disappeared with her facial hair.
"Yeah, can't say I envy you," I replied, snickering. "But I have to admit, you rock those shorts better than I ever could."
"Thanks, but don't think this means I'll be giving you any fashion tips," she said, shotgunning a swig of beer with more grace than any woman in a lingerie commercial. "I'm still me, you know. Just with some… modifications."
I couldn't help but ask, "So, about those… modifications. How's that going?" I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.
She shook her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Oh, don't start with me, man. Let's just eat, drink, and try to pretend this is normal. At least for today."
I grabbed my own beer and raised it. "To old friends and new beginnings," I toasted.
"To not being a walking cliché," Sam countered, clinking her can with mine.
We both took hearty gulps, grinning like idiots. I figured this was the beginning of an entirely new chapter in our friendship. One filled with awkward moments, uncontrollable laughter, and yes, probably a lot more skin-tight shorts. Sam may have undergone second puberty and come out the other side looking more like a cowgirl than a cowboy, but she was still my best friend. Even if she did have the legs to prove it.
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: My buddy was your typical cowboy type guy. He was always helping me out with cars and house work, he was far more of your typical manly man than I was. But that all changed once he got second puberty which was a strange occurrence that happened to men which turned them into women. He’s muscles and beard turned into a curvy figure with huge busty boobs. He’s still trying to be the same old cowboy he used to be. It’s just not the same anymore. I even think he might be attracted to guys now, not that he’d ever admit it I'm on my way over to his place he is grilling us some burgers wearing a white tank top with a black bra underneath and some cutoff jean booty shorts and a cowboy hat atop his long blonde mane of hair. What's up dude I greet him sneaking up on him which makes him jump at the grill. What the hell dude you scared me. This is going to be a strange relationship I just know it.
Response: I pulled up to Sam's place and couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. There he was—or rather, there *she* was—flipping burgers in a getup that would make Daisy Duke green with envy. Nothing said "former cowboy turned cowgirl" quite like a white tank top straining over a black bra, cutoff jean booty shorts, and a cowboy hat perched atop what used to be a sensible, messy mop of hair. Now it was a cascade of long, golden locks. "What's up, dude?" I called out, sneaking up on him—whoops, her. Sam's jump was comical enough to make me wish I'd had a camera. Seriously, her spatula flew up as if she'd just been cast in a slapstick comedy. "What the hell, man? You scared me!" Sam's voice was just the slightest bit higher but still had that familiar gruffness. "Sorry, I couldn't resist," I said, laughing. "I see you haven't lost your touch with the grill, though. Smells amazing." She rolled her eyes but smirked, patting her tank top to straighten it out. "Yeah, well, you know me. Can't keep still. Gotta be doing something with my hands." She paused, then looked down at her new assets with a wry grin. "Even if my new hands aren't quite the same." I grabbed a lawn chair and plopped down. "You still getting used to everything?" I asked, trying to disguise my curiosity with nonchalance. "Oh, you know," Sam said, flipping a burger with a flourish, "just the usual 'second puberty' shenanigans. Can't look at myself in the mirror without half-laughing and half-wondering if this is all a cosmic joke." She put the spatula down and grabbed a can of beer, cracking it open with a sense of authority that hadn't disappeared with her facial hair. "Yeah, can't say I envy you," I replied, snickering. "But I have to admit, you rock those shorts better than I ever could." "Thanks, but don't think this means I'll be giving you any fashion tips," she said, shotgunning a swig of beer with more grace than any woman in a lingerie commercial. "I'm still me, you know. Just with some… modifications." I couldn't help but ask, "So, about those… modifications. How's that going?" I waggled my eyebrows suggestively. She shook her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Oh, don't start with me, man. Let's just eat, drink, and try to pretend this is normal. At least for today." I grabbed my own beer and raised it. "To old friends and new beginnings," I toasted. "To not being a walking cliché," Sam countered, clinking her can with mine. We both took hearty gulps, grinning like idiots. I figured this was the beginning of an entirely new chapter in our friendship. One filled with awkward moments, uncontrollable laughter, and yes, probably a lot more skin-tight shorts. Sam may have undergone second puberty and come out the other side looking more like a cowgirl than a cowboy, but she was still my best friend. Even if she did have the legs to prove it.
Post your own comment: