"For Better or Bust: The Hilarious Body Swap Prank"

"I don’t care what you say, Morty, I wanna try those chips out!" my friend, Steve, announced as he barged into my lab.

Steve's build was something like a blocky refrigerator with a head sticking out of the top. Given he'd often been the butt of “doughboy” jokes, I figured the opportunity to inhabit a different body would be an enticing amusement for him.

"Calm down, Steve. They’re still prototypes. Have you read the safety instructions?" I asked, though I knew the answer. Steve wouldn't read a manual if it was the last thing on Earth.

With his best impression of sophistication, Steve raised his deep voice an octave while pretending to impeccably straighten an invisible tie. "Would you kindly lemme take over someone's body? I'm feeling the need for extreme masculine… modularity."

I pretended to ponder this, scratching my head and eyeing my bag of shiny, technological chips. “Alright, but remember the point is to test them. I need you to follow some protocols,” I said.

Steve was practically hopping. "Sure, sure, dude! Whatever ya say! Just gimmie the chip!"

I grabbed a chip from the bag and made my way to his house later that evening. The moment I arrived, I noticed his sister, Leah, lounging on the couch, giggling at her phone. Perfect. And there was football blaring on the TV. Double perfect.

Steve was out doing snacking runs. An idea so mischievous blossomed and I decided this was going to be a legendary prank. If Steve wanted to try the chips, who better than his sister’s body? Of course, he didn’t specify he wanted a muscle-bound hunk. He just wanted “modular.”

“Hey, Leah!” I called out with a big, innocent smile.

Without bothering to look up, she replied, “What's up?”

Before she could react, I tossed the microchip and it latched onto her wrist. Her phone plopped to the floor, and Leah went limp. I bent down and pressed the takeover button on my receiver. The warehouse of Leah’s brain suddenly got a new, confused tenant.

"Woah, what's—why do I feel kinda... bouncy?" Steve-in-Leah muttered, adjusting his new angle. Let’s just say, the way the body jiggled didn't exactly scream to him, "Dude!"

Walking over to the mirror, he finally laid eyes on his reflection. Steve shrieked – and it came out more like a soprano singing the climax of the "Queen of the Night."

"Oh, crud! Morty, what have ya done to me, you lunatic?!" he gasped, cupping "his" Double D knockers in disbelief.

I was laughing so hard, I thought my sides would split. "You said you wanted a new, more masculine and modular body, Steve!"

“Yeah, like big muscles and all!" He clenched Leah’s tiny hands into fists and sort of windmilled ineffectually. “Get me out of this body right now!"

Between giggles, I managed to propose, “Alright, alright, but here’s the deal: you go on a date with me, as Leah, doing your best impersonation of her. You get through it, I swap you back after an hour.”

Steve’s face—or rather, Leah’s face powered by Steve—paled considerably. “No freakin' way I’m doin’ that! She’s my sister!” he objected, his dude accent kicking in even stronger.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh well, guess you are stuck like this forever then. Payback time for supergluing my lab door shut."

Steve closed his eyes, sighed heavily, and finally said, “Alright, deal.” He gave me a begrudging look, and then added, deadpan, “I can fake a valley-gal accent; watch me transform into Leah 2.0.”

And so, we embarked on the most hilariously awkward date I’d ever had. We went to a fancy restaurant, and Steve struggled through small talk about shoes and makeup.

“Omigod, Morty,” he said in the most exaggerated, high-pitched tone, “That dress is totes adorbs. Tell me more about, like, quantum physics and stuff. It’s just sooo fascinating!”

Seeing Steve in Leah's body, flailing uselessly yet genuinely trying, was comedy gold. An elderly couple nearby gave us the side-eye for Steve’s over-the-top performance, while I tried not to burst out laughing with every ridiculous comment he made.

Steve survived the sociological experiment-slash-prank, but by the end of the hour, he lost any dignity he had left from earlier that day.

Afterward, I pressed the chip once more and helped Steve get back to his own body. Flushed and glaring at me, Steve grumbled, “You better sleep with one eye open, Morty.”

I grinned cheekily at my almost-best friend, knowing we’d be laughing about this for decades. “Only if you promise, Steve,” I replied, “Because that was the most fun I’ve had in years!”

By far, it was the greatest payback and proof that sometimes, the best way to handle your prankster of a friend is to beat him at his own game.

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.

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