"Outfield Oddity"
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Title: "Outfield Oddity"
"Hey, Buster! Throw it here!" I called to my brother, coined 'Buster' since the mysterious 'Great Shift' – an unavoidable cosmic event that swapped half the world population's bodies. It had to be Buster who now inhabited our curvaceous mother's body.
With a sigh, Buster tried to wind up for a throw, contending with the weight on his chest that threw off his usual balance. "Damn these things!” he muttered, referring to our mom’s robust bosom that now resided on his chest.
"Oh, enough with the complaining," I chuckled back. His grip slipped on the ball due to Mom's French tipped nails, and it landed nowhere near me. "Isn't it about time you filed those nails down!?"
He just shrugged and trudged to pick up the ball. "Maybe..."
A week later, he was back on the baseball field, now outfitted with his high school jersey that was stretched in unusual ways by Mom's chest. The words "BullDogs" across his chest now appeared as "BulDDDogs," thanks to the ample cleavage forcing the fabric to accommodate. As he stood at home plate, though, it was clear Buster wasn't done with baseball. He might be curvier and bustier, but he was as determined as ever.
The Coed baseball season brought its share of hilarity and some ribbing from his pals. They had plenty to say about his newfound curves, but no one could ever deny his unwavering prowess and skill in the game.
"Hey, watch that chest, D-Cup!" one of his friends yelled from the stands during a match. Buster just rolled his eyes and focused on the incoming ball. He sharply connected with the ball, sending it hurtling through the sky.
In another match, when he dived for a spectacular catch in the outfield, the ball inconveniently nestled itself in his bridged cleavage rather than in his glove. From the stands, I couldn't stop laughing. "Does that count as an out, referee?" I yelled amidst fits of laughter, and a collective chuckle echoed around the field.
Buster had some trouble finding appropriate baseball pants, his maternal new hips and backside providing logistical challenges. Eventually, he found some that accommodated his curvy behind, but not without some jokes about mom jeans on the field.
When a particularly fast pitch hit him square on his bountiful bosom, instead of cringing, he roared with laughter. I, along with the rest of his friends, joined him. Baseball had become much more hilarious since the 'Great Shift'.
Now, as much as Buster complained about his shifting center of gravity and perpetually warping jersey, there was a humble pride in his eyes - a kind of resilience that no curveball (pun intended) could shatter. And who knew? Maybe Mom's body was destined to become the world's first busty baseball sensation!
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 a lot of dialogue where Me and my brother loved baseball. We both played together growing up. We was a far better player than me and he was probably going to get drafted to the pros after college. That was before the great shift which was an occurrence that swapped 50 percent of thew populations bodies came and swapped him into our mother’s curvy and busty body. Obviously he was pretty bummed out at first, especially when we first decided to play a game of catch he had a hard time throwing with his new boobs in the way he always complained about moms french tipped nails throwing off his grip too. but my brother has always taken things in stride. He decided to workout mom’s body and get her ready for Coed baseball season where he played with some of his friends from high school they liked to tease him and make nicknames about his new body but he was having fun and still was the best player in the team even with the two large hindrances on his chest. One time he even got it by a pitch on the boob which caused me and all his buddies to laugh or that other time he went for a diving catch and the ball landed in his mountainous cleavage, hey still counts as an out right even if you catch it with your boobs. I didn’t know mom was in such good shape. He did struggle to adjust to moms new breasts but over time he grow to get used to them but his usual BullDogs font across his jersey was warped by moms chestiness. He also struggled to find baseball pants to fit over his curvy ass and wipe hips.
Response: Title: "Outfield Oddity" "Hey, Buster! Throw it here!" I called to my brother, coined 'Buster' since the mysterious 'Great Shift' – an unavoidable cosmic event that swapped half the world population's bodies. It had to be Buster who now inhabited our curvaceous mother's body. With a sigh, Buster tried to wind up for a throw, contending with the weight on his chest that threw off his usual balance. "Damn these things!” he muttered, referring to our mom’s robust bosom that now resided on his chest. "Oh, enough with the complaining," I chuckled back. His grip slipped on the ball due to Mom's French tipped nails, and it landed nowhere near me. "Isn't it about time you filed those nails down!?" He just shrugged and trudged to pick up the ball. "Maybe..." A week later, he was back on the baseball field, now outfitted with his high school jersey that was stretched in unusual ways by Mom's chest. The words "BullDogs" across his chest now appeared as "BulDDDogs," thanks to the ample cleavage forcing the fabric to accommodate. As he stood at home plate, though, it was clear Buster wasn't done with baseball. He might be curvier and bustier, but he was as determined as ever. The Coed baseball season brought its share of hilarity and some ribbing from his pals. They had plenty to say about his newfound curves, but no one could ever deny his unwavering prowess and skill in the game. "Hey, watch that chest, D-Cup!" one of his friends yelled from the stands during a match. Buster just rolled his eyes and focused on the incoming ball. He sharply connected with the ball, sending it hurtling through the sky. In another match, when he dived for a spectacular catch in the outfield, the ball inconveniently nestled itself in his bridged cleavage rather than in his glove. From the stands, I couldn't stop laughing. "Does that count as an out, referee?" I yelled amidst fits of laughter, and a collective chuckle echoed around the field. Buster had some trouble finding appropriate baseball pants, his maternal new hips and backside providing logistical challenges. Eventually, he found some that accommodated his curvy behind, but not without some jokes about mom jeans on the field. When a particularly fast pitch hit him square on his bountiful bosom, instead of cringing, he roared with laughter. I, along with the rest of his friends, joined him. Baseball had become much more hilarious since the 'Great Shift'. Now, as much as Buster complained about his shifting center of gravity and perpetually warping jersey, there was a humble pride in his eyes - a kind of resilience that no curveball (pun intended) could shatter. And who knew? Maybe Mom's body was destined to become the world's first busty baseball sensation!
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