"Remote Control Chaos"
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Title: "Remote Control Chaos"
It was an unusually boring Thursday afternoon when Pete stumbled upon an old, dusty remote in a garage sale. It had buttons labeled with everything from "Height" to "Hair Color," "Voice," and "Shape." But it was the "Swap" button that caught his eye.
Back at home, Pete couldn't resist testing it out. He pointed the remote at a picture of his friend, Tom, on Facebook and pressed the "Chest Size" button. Aiming towards a busty celebrity magazine cover, Pete hit "Swap." The picture of Tom now had quite an impressive pectoral enhancement. This was too good to be true.
---
"Yo, Tom!" Pete grinned as he greeted his friend at their usual hangout, the local greasy spoon diner.
"Hey, Pete. Notice anything different?" Tom adjusted his shirt collar, his chest significantly more pronounced.
Pete faked a puzzled expression. "Hmm, did you buy a new shirt?"
Tom chuckled. "Nah, just hit the gym a little harder lately."
Pete's phone buzzed; it was his sister Lucy and brother Max messaging about their family dinner that weekend. Pete decided it was the perfect time for another swap session. He remembered Lucy's long, flowing red hair and Max's notorious buzzcut that made him look like an oversized baby.
Later that evening, Pete pointed the remote at a family photo. "Hair Length." With a mischievous glee, he pressed "Swap."
---
The family dinner finally arrived. When Lucy and Max walked into the dining room, Pete tried hard not to laugh. Lucy's once radiant locks were now a prickly, almost comical buzzcut. Max's head was flaunting a magnificent cascade of red curls.
"Lucy, wow! Did you decide to go punk?" Pete asked, aiming for nonchalance.
She smiled sheepishly. "Just experimenting. It seems familiar, though."
"And Max! Loving the new 'do," Pete said, reaching over to twirl a lock of crimson.
Max beamed. "I figured it was time for a change. What do you think, Dad?”
At that moment, Pete couldn't resist another twist. He eyed his parents who were setting the table. He pointed the remote once more. “Voice.”
"Swap."
His mother's normally soft, caring tones suddenly dipped to a rich baritone. “Dinner's ready, everyone!” she announced, startling the cat.
His father, on the other hand, piped up in a high-pitched squeak, “Pass the gravy, please.”
Pete slumped in his chair, stifling giggles.
---
At home, flipping through TV channels leisurely, Pete lingered on the local news. The weatherwoman, curvy and cheerful, was discussing the weekend forecast with the bald, plump anchorman.
He couldn't resist. "Head," he whispered, aiming the remote at the TV. Then, "Swap."
Suddenly, the weather forecast was being delivered by a bald, rotund head atop a shapely figure, while the anchorman's head looked utterly confused on the weatherwoman's body.
"Back to you, Steve," said what used to be the anchorman but now was a delightfully curvaceous weatherwoman’s voice, totally unaware. Steve took over shakily, his new body a difficult fit for the anchorman desk.
---
That weekend, Pete met up with his buddies, still amazed at how smoothly his swapping endeavors had been going. Spotting Matt, a fellow sports enthusiast with a pancake-flat behind, he pointed the remote with unabashed glee. He noticed yet another gym-going woman with an impressive posterior walking by.
“Glutes,” he muttered. "Swap."
Matt’s expression remained unaltered, while his rear end dramatically transformed into a shapely form that seemed to push his pants to their limits. Matt sat down uncomfortably, leaning into Pete.
"Did benches get smaller or am I just...wider?" Matt wondered aloud.
Pete burst into laughter. But as he attempted to pocket the remote, it slipped and tumbled to the ground. The “Swap” button seemed to press repeatedly against the pavement.
---
Chaos erupted as mass trait swaps unfolded in the bustling neighborhood square. Women suddenly sported grizzled beards, kids gained and lost several inches in height, and petite joggers found themselves trudging along with tree trunk-like legs. Pete watched in horrified amusement.
"Hey, does anyone else feel... different?" someone in the crowd shouted.
Pete tried to surreptitiously retrieve the remote, but every attempt only escalated the pandemonium. He resolved right then to be a bit more careful, if not ambitious, with his future experimental endeavors—if he ever got the remote back under control.
In the meantime, Pete prepared to enjoy the view of inadvertent fashion trends, extraordinary gym transformations, and comically mismatched voices as his little experiment turned the town into an unintentional comedy show.
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 about a guy who gets a trait swap remote. It can swap parts of peoples bodies without them realizing it. He tries it out and swaps the chest of a busty women onto one of his male best friends. He swaps his sisters long red hair with his brothers short buzzcut. He swaps his moms caring high pitches voice with his dad deep baritone. He even swaps the heads of the curvy weatherwoman on tv with the fat bald anchorman. Write a story with a bunch of other sexy swaps like swapping women's breasts with guys and women's large asses with men as well. The remote leaves everyone unaware of their changed and acts like its normal. At the end of the story the guy drops the remote and it causes mass trait swaps around the town.
Response: Title: "Remote Control Chaos" It was an unusually boring Thursday afternoon when Pete stumbled upon an old, dusty remote in a garage sale. It had buttons labeled with everything from "Height" to "Hair Color," "Voice," and "Shape." But it was the "Swap" button that caught his eye. Back at home, Pete couldn't resist testing it out. He pointed the remote at a picture of his friend, Tom, on Facebook and pressed the "Chest Size" button. Aiming towards a busty celebrity magazine cover, Pete hit "Swap." The picture of Tom now had quite an impressive pectoral enhancement. This was too good to be true. --- "Yo, Tom!" Pete grinned as he greeted his friend at their usual hangout, the local greasy spoon diner. "Hey, Pete. Notice anything different?" Tom adjusted his shirt collar, his chest significantly more pronounced. Pete faked a puzzled expression. "Hmm, did you buy a new shirt?" Tom chuckled. "Nah, just hit the gym a little harder lately." Pete's phone buzzed; it was his sister Lucy and brother Max messaging about their family dinner that weekend. Pete decided it was the perfect time for another swap session. He remembered Lucy's long, flowing red hair and Max's notorious buzzcut that made him look like an oversized baby. Later that evening, Pete pointed the remote at a family photo. "Hair Length." With a mischievous glee, he pressed "Swap." --- The family dinner finally arrived. When Lucy and Max walked into the dining room, Pete tried hard not to laugh. Lucy's once radiant locks were now a prickly, almost comical buzzcut. Max's head was flaunting a magnificent cascade of red curls. "Lucy, wow! Did you decide to go punk?" Pete asked, aiming for nonchalance. She smiled sheepishly. "Just experimenting. It seems familiar, though." "And Max! Loving the new 'do," Pete said, reaching over to twirl a lock of crimson. Max beamed. "I figured it was time for a change. What do you think, Dad?” At that moment, Pete couldn't resist another twist. He eyed his parents who were setting the table. He pointed the remote once more. “Voice.” "Swap." His mother's normally soft, caring tones suddenly dipped to a rich baritone. “Dinner's ready, everyone!” she announced, startling the cat. His father, on the other hand, piped up in a high-pitched squeak, “Pass the gravy, please.” Pete slumped in his chair, stifling giggles. --- At home, flipping through TV channels leisurely, Pete lingered on the local news. The weatherwoman, curvy and cheerful, was discussing the weekend forecast with the bald, plump anchorman. He couldn't resist. "Head," he whispered, aiming the remote at the TV. Then, "Swap." Suddenly, the weather forecast was being delivered by a bald, rotund head atop a shapely figure, while the anchorman's head looked utterly confused on the weatherwoman's body. "Back to you, Steve," said what used to be the anchorman but now was a delightfully curvaceous weatherwoman’s voice, totally unaware. Steve took over shakily, his new body a difficult fit for the anchorman desk. --- That weekend, Pete met up with his buddies, still amazed at how smoothly his swapping endeavors had been going. Spotting Matt, a fellow sports enthusiast with a pancake-flat behind, he pointed the remote with unabashed glee. He noticed yet another gym-going woman with an impressive posterior walking by. “Glutes,” he muttered. "Swap." Matt’s expression remained unaltered, while his rear end dramatically transformed into a shapely form that seemed to push his pants to their limits. Matt sat down uncomfortably, leaning into Pete. "Did benches get smaller or am I just...wider?" Matt wondered aloud. Pete burst into laughter. But as he attempted to pocket the remote, it slipped and tumbled to the ground. The “Swap” button seemed to press repeatedly against the pavement. --- Chaos erupted as mass trait swaps unfolded in the bustling neighborhood square. Women suddenly sported grizzled beards, kids gained and lost several inches in height, and petite joggers found themselves trudging along with tree trunk-like legs. Pete watched in horrified amusement. "Hey, does anyone else feel... different?" someone in the crowd shouted. Pete tried to surreptitiously retrieve the remote, but every attempt only escalated the pandemonium. He resolved right then to be a bit more careful, if not ambitious, with his future experimental endeavors—if he ever got the remote back under control. In the meantime, Pete prepared to enjoy the view of inadvertent fashion trends, extraordinary gym transformations, and comically mismatched voices as his little experiment turned the town into an unintentional comedy show.
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