**Mom-swap Madness**
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Title: **Mom-swap Madness**
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My name is Dylan, and, so far, my life has basically been a series of average events strung together to form a mostly forgettable existence. That is, until I got a job at FitSwap, a company that pioneered the idea of swapping people's bodies with personal trainers. The mind-boggling concept intrigued me, and I landed a gig as one of the said swapping trainers. But nothing—not stocks, bonds, or even my Bitcoin investment—could live up to what happened next.
One mundane Tuesday, I got an alert: someone requested a swap. The name Lisa popped up on my phone screen, which didn't give me much information. But my heart skipped several beats when I saw the profile picture. It was none other than Wendy, my best friend's mom! My crush since as long as I could remember. And she requested *me*.
FitSwap protocol was clear: no touching or messing around with the client's life. Of course, when they create a service like fit-swapping, where you physically become someone else, rules are bound to be ignored.
Fast forward through the FitSwap process, and there I was—in Wendy's, er, Mrs. Larsen’s body. I fluttered her (my?) red eyelashes and adjusted to her, uh, shall we say, well-endowed physique. Wendy exercised minimally; that's why she signed up for FitSwap in the first place. So, the plan was simple: work out her body, revert to mine, and leave like nothing happened. But then I found the sports bra.
Standing in front of a full-length mirror, I decided to try doing jumping jacks. Who knew bouncing could be this...entertaining? I busted out laughing, shaking my—her—protein shake, and watching how things just...bounced! I could watch this booby show all day!
I shook my head, remembering professional ethics. "Right," I muttered. "Focus, Dylan."
But a little fun never hurt anyone, right?
Day one quickly rolled into day two, and no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. I even had to take on Wendy's mundane household chores. Vacuuming? No one told me it involved this much bending. Cooking? Let's just say I had trouble with a pre-packed salad. Laundry? That had to wait.
By day three, my best friend Jake noticed something was up. It's not that I vacuumed loudly—or awfully—but Jake walked in on me singing "Livin' on a Prayer" at the top of my formidable lungs while attempting to vacuum. Wendy would never know that song in a million years.
Suspicion was inevitable.
Jake tapped my (Wendy’s?) shoulder. “Mom, are you okay? What’s with the Bon Jovi love?”
I probably made a rookie mistake by saying, quite reflexively, “Dude, it’s a classic!”
“Dude?” he echoed, narrowing his eyes. "Mom, is that you?"
I tried to cover it up. "I meant, dear. Oh, who am I kidding, Jake? It's Dylan. Surprise?"
Jake’s face morphed into a river of expressions: confusion, shock, then weirdly, amusement.
“What the—Dylan?! My mom? You?!”
I nodded, sheepishly holding the vacuum cleaner like it was an artifact from outer space. “Look, Jake, it’s a long story, and it involves way too many protein shakes.”
Jake laughed more than he should have and said, "Well, at least you’re getting her to break out of her yoga-pants-on-the-couch routine."
I couldn’t help but join in the laughter.
“But wait,” Jake suddenly grew serious. “Does this mean you’ve seen… everything?”
“Dude, your mom is a saint. Don’t you worry.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Right. I guess we’ll never speak of this again?”
I nodded again, not entirely sure how we'd erase this from our minds. “Yup. Never again.”
Jake chuckled, patting what he thought was his mom's back, and then glancing back one more time. “Hey, at least you vacuumed," he said before running downstairs.
As the swap period ended and I went back to my old, scrawny, and comparatively less bouncy body, I couldn't help but think about the wild experience. Seeing the world through Wendy's eyes definitely gave me a new appreciation for her—and, admittedly, for double sports bras.
Lessons learned? Body-swapping needs a stringent don't-screw-around policy. Oh wait, we already have one. Maybe sticking to it next time might be a good idea?
Whistling "Livin’ on a Prayer," I laughed myself silly. Who knew staying fit could be this complicated—and, accidentally, this fun?
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 My best friend worked for this new company called FitSwap it was a company that could swap your body with a personal trainer to workout your body for you. What I didn’t know was my mom had signed up and requested my friend to swap with her. Now my friend was in her busty redheaded body having the time of his life. My friend had always had a crush on my mom and now he had full access to her body. He is having a lot of fun though. He laughs as he shakes his protein shake loving how it makes his boobs jiggle. He also has to take over some of her house duties to though which he dreads, like vacuuming and cooking and doing the laundry. I didn't even know he was in there for a couple of days until I heard mom vacuuming and singing a song she would never know in a million years that my friend loves to sing. write the story from my friends perspective in my moms body.
Response: Title: **Mom-swap Madness** --- My name is Dylan, and, so far, my life has basically been a series of average events strung together to form a mostly forgettable existence. That is, until I got a job at FitSwap, a company that pioneered the idea of swapping people's bodies with personal trainers. The mind-boggling concept intrigued me, and I landed a gig as one of the said swapping trainers. But nothing—not stocks, bonds, or even my Bitcoin investment—could live up to what happened next. One mundane Tuesday, I got an alert: someone requested a swap. The name Lisa popped up on my phone screen, which didn't give me much information. But my heart skipped several beats when I saw the profile picture. It was none other than Wendy, my best friend's mom! My crush since as long as I could remember. And she requested *me*. FitSwap protocol was clear: no touching or messing around with the client's life. Of course, when they create a service like fit-swapping, where you physically become someone else, rules are bound to be ignored. Fast forward through the FitSwap process, and there I was—in Wendy's, er, Mrs. Larsen’s body. I fluttered her (my?) red eyelashes and adjusted to her, uh, shall we say, well-endowed physique. Wendy exercised minimally; that's why she signed up for FitSwap in the first place. So, the plan was simple: work out her body, revert to mine, and leave like nothing happened. But then I found the sports bra. Standing in front of a full-length mirror, I decided to try doing jumping jacks. Who knew bouncing could be this...entertaining? I busted out laughing, shaking my—her—protein shake, and watching how things just...bounced! I could watch this booby show all day! I shook my head, remembering professional ethics. "Right," I muttered. "Focus, Dylan." But a little fun never hurt anyone, right? Day one quickly rolled into day two, and no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. I even had to take on Wendy's mundane household chores. Vacuuming? No one told me it involved this much bending. Cooking? Let's just say I had trouble with a pre-packed salad. Laundry? That had to wait. By day three, my best friend Jake noticed something was up. It's not that I vacuumed loudly—or awfully—but Jake walked in on me singing "Livin' on a Prayer" at the top of my formidable lungs while attempting to vacuum. Wendy would never know that song in a million years. Suspicion was inevitable. Jake tapped my (Wendy’s?) shoulder. “Mom, are you okay? What’s with the Bon Jovi love?” I probably made a rookie mistake by saying, quite reflexively, “Dude, it’s a classic!” “Dude?” he echoed, narrowing his eyes. "Mom, is that you?" I tried to cover it up. "I meant, dear. Oh, who am I kidding, Jake? It's Dylan. Surprise?" Jake’s face morphed into a river of expressions: confusion, shock, then weirdly, amusement. “What the—Dylan?! My mom? You?!” I nodded, sheepishly holding the vacuum cleaner like it was an artifact from outer space. “Look, Jake, it’s a long story, and it involves way too many protein shakes.” Jake laughed more than he should have and said, "Well, at least you’re getting her to break out of her yoga-pants-on-the-couch routine." I couldn’t help but join in the laughter. “But wait,” Jake suddenly grew serious. “Does this mean you’ve seen… everything?” “Dude, your mom is a saint. Don’t you worry.” Jake rolled his eyes. “Right. I guess we’ll never speak of this again?” I nodded again, not entirely sure how we'd erase this from our minds. “Yup. Never again.” Jake chuckled, patting what he thought was his mom's back, and then glancing back one more time. “Hey, at least you vacuumed," he said before running downstairs. As the swap period ended and I went back to my old, scrawny, and comparatively less bouncy body, I couldn't help but think about the wild experience. Seeing the world through Wendy's eyes definitely gave me a new appreciation for her—and, admittedly, for double sports bras. Lessons learned? Body-swapping needs a stringent don't-screw-around policy. Oh wait, we already have one. Maybe sticking to it next time might be a good idea? Whistling "Livin’ on a Prayer," I laughed myself silly. Who knew staying fit could be this complicated—and, accidentally, this fun?
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