"Insta-Dad: A Social Media Spell Gone Awry"
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I never imagined my life would turn into some bizarre sitcom, but here I am, living with my dad who now looks like a twenty-something Instagram model. Let me explain how this all started.
"Dad, you can't be serious," I said, staring at the piece of ancient-looking paper he’d handed me from his bed.
"Trust me, Kevin," Dad rasped, clutching the bedsheets dramatically. "I’d like to spend my remaining days not feeling like a soggy paper towel."
I sighed and reluctantly began reading the spell. Now, I should mention that I'm not the best with pronouncing weird, archaic words. So, naturally, halfway through, rather than Dad just de-aging a decade or two, he morphed into a stunning blonde woman with curves that could make a Kardashian look twice.
"Kev...in?" the new Dad, now sounding like a Marilyn Monroe impersonator, asked, examining his—her?—new body.
"Dad?" I stammered, eyes bulging. "I think I messed it up.”
“You think?” she said, trying to adjust her now very revealing hospital gown.
Things only got more chaotic from there.
Once back at home, I kept finding him—her?—in front of a mirror, posing and snapping selfies.
"Done it, Kev!" she announced one day with an excited chirp. "I’ve got a thousand followers just today!"
That’s right, Dad became a social media sensation almost overnight. Her feed filled with beauty tips, recipes, and alarming dad jokes. If you thought dad jokes were bad, try hearing them from a supermodel.
We were at the mall one afternoon when it truly hit home how odd my life had become. A group of women approached us, giggling and chatting. One of them couldn’t help but gush over Dad’s dress.
“That dress is stunning!” the woman exclaimed. “It really brings out your figure.”
Dad—grinning from ear to ear like he’d won the lottery—patted his chest proudly and said, “Thanks! Really shows off the goods, doesn’t it?”
I facepalmed so hard I probably left a mark.
“Seriously, Doug?” I muttered under my breath as the group of women continued to chat animatedly with him. “You couldn’t just say thanks?”
“Oh, come on, Kev. Lighten up!” Dad replied, winking. “Just because I’ve got the body of a goddess doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being me.”
And that’s exactly how life has been ever since. It’s uncomfortably amusing but surprisingly heartwarming. We've developed a system. I help her navigate the social media fame, and in return, Dad taught me to embrace unpredictability.
Sure, it’s odd having a dad who now struts around in heels and has a wardrobe that could rival any runway model’s collection. But she’s still Dad, curvy hips, big rack, and all.
“Hey Kev!” Dad called out one Saturday morning from the kitchen, flipping pancakes like a pro. “Guess what? Our follower count just hit a million!”
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Of course it did, Dad. Just another day in our wonderfully weird life."
And so, I’ve learned to accept my new Dad—flaws, curves, and all. Because in the end, she’s still the man who raised me, just with a lot more Instagram engagement.
“Here’s to living life to the fullest,” Dad cheered, raising her coffee mug.
“To dad bods,” I said, smirking.
She beamed at me, and we clinked our mugs together.
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 My dad was very sick and was lying on his death bed. He told me he had one last wish, to find him a new youthful body. He handed me a paper that had a spell on it. I read it an then he began an to de age in front of me. I must have read it wrong though because he’s now a woman my age with blonde hair and wide and curvy hips and a big rack. I don't know what to do this is super awkward especially now since he has figured out social media he's got tons of followers now. It is funny to go out in public with him now he still acts like his old self so when women come up to chat with himself he still calls himself Doug. One woman complimented his dress and he said it really showed off the goods and pointed to his chest. Although its awkward for me to have this ultra curvaceous and busty woman around the house at all times I've learned to accept my new dad.
Response: I never imagined my life would turn into some bizarre sitcom, but here I am, living with my dad who now looks like a twenty-something Instagram model. Let me explain how this all started. "Dad, you can't be serious," I said, staring at the piece of ancient-looking paper he’d handed me from his bed. "Trust me, Kevin," Dad rasped, clutching the bedsheets dramatically. "I’d like to spend my remaining days not feeling like a soggy paper towel." I sighed and reluctantly began reading the spell. Now, I should mention that I'm not the best with pronouncing weird, archaic words. So, naturally, halfway through, rather than Dad just de-aging a decade or two, he morphed into a stunning blonde woman with curves that could make a Kardashian look twice. "Kev...in?" the new Dad, now sounding like a Marilyn Monroe impersonator, asked, examining his—her?—new body. "Dad?" I stammered, eyes bulging. "I think I messed it up.” “You think?” she said, trying to adjust her now very revealing hospital gown. Things only got more chaotic from there. Once back at home, I kept finding him—her?—in front of a mirror, posing and snapping selfies. "Done it, Kev!" she announced one day with an excited chirp. "I’ve got a thousand followers just today!" That’s right, Dad became a social media sensation almost overnight. Her feed filled with beauty tips, recipes, and alarming dad jokes. If you thought dad jokes were bad, try hearing them from a supermodel. We were at the mall one afternoon when it truly hit home how odd my life had become. A group of women approached us, giggling and chatting. One of them couldn’t help but gush over Dad’s dress. “That dress is stunning!” the woman exclaimed. “It really brings out your figure.” Dad—grinning from ear to ear like he’d won the lottery—patted his chest proudly and said, “Thanks! Really shows off the goods, doesn’t it?” I facepalmed so hard I probably left a mark. “Seriously, Doug?” I muttered under my breath as the group of women continued to chat animatedly with him. “You couldn’t just say thanks?” “Oh, come on, Kev. Lighten up!” Dad replied, winking. “Just because I’ve got the body of a goddess doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being me.” And that’s exactly how life has been ever since. It’s uncomfortably amusing but surprisingly heartwarming. We've developed a system. I help her navigate the social media fame, and in return, Dad taught me to embrace unpredictability. Sure, it’s odd having a dad who now struts around in heels and has a wardrobe that could rival any runway model’s collection. But she’s still Dad, curvy hips, big rack, and all. “Hey Kev!” Dad called out one Saturday morning from the kitchen, flipping pancakes like a pro. “Guess what? Our follower count just hit a million!” I chuckled, shaking my head. "Of course it did, Dad. Just another day in our wonderfully weird life." And so, I’ve learned to accept my new Dad—flaws, curves, and all. Because in the end, she’s still the man who raised me, just with a lot more Instagram engagement. “Here’s to living life to the fullest,” Dad cheered, raising her coffee mug. “To dad bods,” I said, smirking. She beamed at me, and we clinked our mugs together.
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