**Switcheroo at the Altar**
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**Possession: Wedding Day Edition**
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"Alright, Derek," I muttered to myself, flipping through the pages of the ancient spellbook I'd picked up in a tiny shop during my last expedition. "This one's called 'A Guide to Angelic Possession'... Can't be too hard, right?"
My eyes scanned the instructions. Just a bit of chanting, a dash of incense, and a focused mind… Easy-peasy.
Before I knew it, I felt a force lift me out of myself. There was a rush, a whoosh, a lot of colors bleeding into each other and then… BAM. I opened my eyes to an entirely new and quite plushy reality.
I was staring down at a lacy, white dress encasing some very prominent assets. My assets? Ah, Daisy's assets.
“Oh boy,” I muttered, my newfound soprano voice catching me off guard. “This… is gonna be interesting.”
Crap! This was Hank's wedding, and I was now his bride, Daisy. I looked at the mirror nearby, her stunning red hair framed my—uh—her bewildered face but then I noticed, man, those cheekbones!
Within minutes, I was on autopilot, stepping through the ceremony. The officiant gave me an odd look as I smirked almost wickedly. And can I just say, the aisle seemed ridiculously long when you're trying not to trip on heels that made the Eifel Tower look like a step stool.
Fiddling my—er—her dress, I noticed with amusement that Hank's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. I mean, those were some very noticeable proportions.
I flashed a grin at him. "Hey, remember when you called me on the night of glory after the high school dance and we kinda messed up the hotel room?" I whispered loudly enough for him to respond, only for the guests to gasp.
Hank's eyes begged for mercy. "Daisy?" he stammered.
"Just kidding," I continued, winking. "Don't worry, babe. I got this under control." The priest looked like he'd seen a ghost. Couldn't he tell? This was golden.
During the reception, I decided to channel my inner performer. Sinatra? Nope. Rapper’s Delight. Guests watched as I busted out lyrics they’d never expect from sweet Daisy.
"Damn, she’s got rhythm," someone whispered.
"It's like she’s someone else entirely," another guest chuckled.
I fought the wild urge to raise my glass and toast with a quote from 'Rocky.' But there was no fight, it just came tumbling out. "It ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward,” I shouted into the mic. “That's how winning is done!"
Hank’s parents blinked, clearly wondering if they'd missed some pivotal moment in Daisy’s past.
Then came the twerking. Was it Daisy’s supple new body or my unrestrained joy? Let's just say, that white lace swirled and showcased every fantastic asset she possessed.
The dance floor cleared faster than budget airline seats. Hank migrated toward me, half-laughing and half-panicking. I could read his mind: What have you done, Derek?
"Dude, seriously?" he burst out, grinning and groaning simultaneously. "Possessing my wife?"
"Surprise!" I chirped, twirling in Daisy’s form, watching the edges of the white dress flair.
We managed to get through our slow dance without any more major slip-ups, but I couldn’t resist teasing Hank. "Hand on the derriere, eh? Feel familiar?" I whispered, challenging him to suppress his laughter.
When the dance floor opened up to the rest of the guests, Hank had to field about a gazillion questions. How had Daisy learned to rap? Was she always an action movie buff? Could she always twerk like that?
By the end of the evening, watching Hank simultaneously enjoy and flounder through the unexpected adventure, I had to admit. This was too much fun.
The night wound down, and as Daisy's toes curled in exhaustion within those monstrous heels, I felt the spellbook’s pull.
With a final glance at Hank, I couldn't help myself. "Alright, lover boy. It's been real. Catch ya on the flip side."
And then, in a flash, a whoosh, and the most spectacular swish of white lace, I was out. I plopped back into my body miles away, surrounded by musty books.
Grinning, I readjusted to my own limbs. Somewhere, out there, I knew Hank was explaining (or trying to) the wildest wedding day Daisy never expected.
And as I stretched, I couldn’t help but mutter, “Well, roommate from beyond, here’s to you taking center stage.”
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 lots of dialogue where Today was my wedding day. It was supposed to be the greatest day of my life. My best friend couldn’t make it to the wedding since he lives far away now. At least I thought he wouldn’t make it. Apparently, he read a possession spell and accidentally possessed my wife during the ceremony. He walked up to the aisle in her flashy and showy dress her red hair cascading down her back with a strange smirk in her face. He keeps looking down at his new big boobs which were a grade A rack no doubt about it. and laughing the ceremony has been so weird and people are wondering when my wife learned all these raps songs. He gave a speech at the reception that quoted action movies and sports movies much to the surprise to everyone. He even started twerking his big curvy ass at the reception. We had to slow dance and he kept making me laugh talking about old stories from high school and he kept teasing me for having my hand on his butt as we danced. This has been wild for me, but it has kind of been fun seeing my wife acting so free during the wedding and reception. My buddy has certainly made this wedding far more comical by possessing her body. Write the story from my friends perspective in my wife's body.
Response: **Possession: Wedding Day Edition** --- "Alright, Derek," I muttered to myself, flipping through the pages of the ancient spellbook I'd picked up in a tiny shop during my last expedition. "This one's called 'A Guide to Angelic Possession'... Can't be too hard, right?" My eyes scanned the instructions. Just a bit of chanting, a dash of incense, and a focused mind… Easy-peasy. Before I knew it, I felt a force lift me out of myself. There was a rush, a whoosh, a lot of colors bleeding into each other and then… BAM. I opened my eyes to an entirely new and quite plushy reality. I was staring down at a lacy, white dress encasing some very prominent assets. My assets? Ah, Daisy's assets. “Oh boy,” I muttered, my newfound soprano voice catching me off guard. “This… is gonna be interesting.” Crap! This was Hank's wedding, and I was now his bride, Daisy. I looked at the mirror nearby, her stunning red hair framed my—uh—her bewildered face but then I noticed, man, those cheekbones! Within minutes, I was on autopilot, stepping through the ceremony. The officiant gave me an odd look as I smirked almost wickedly. And can I just say, the aisle seemed ridiculously long when you're trying not to trip on heels that made the Eifel Tower look like a step stool. Fiddling my—er—her dress, I noticed with amusement that Hank's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. I mean, those were some very noticeable proportions. I flashed a grin at him. "Hey, remember when you called me on the night of glory after the high school dance and we kinda messed up the hotel room?" I whispered loudly enough for him to respond, only for the guests to gasp. Hank's eyes begged for mercy. "Daisy?" he stammered. "Just kidding," I continued, winking. "Don't worry, babe. I got this under control." The priest looked like he'd seen a ghost. Couldn't he tell? This was golden. During the reception, I decided to channel my inner performer. Sinatra? Nope. Rapper’s Delight. Guests watched as I busted out lyrics they’d never expect from sweet Daisy. "Damn, she’s got rhythm," someone whispered. "It's like she’s someone else entirely," another guest chuckled. I fought the wild urge to raise my glass and toast with a quote from 'Rocky.' But there was no fight, it just came tumbling out. "It ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward,” I shouted into the mic. “That's how winning is done!" Hank’s parents blinked, clearly wondering if they'd missed some pivotal moment in Daisy’s past. Then came the twerking. Was it Daisy’s supple new body or my unrestrained joy? Let's just say, that white lace swirled and showcased every fantastic asset she possessed. The dance floor cleared faster than budget airline seats. Hank migrated toward me, half-laughing and half-panicking. I could read his mind: What have you done, Derek? "Dude, seriously?" he burst out, grinning and groaning simultaneously. "Possessing my wife?" "Surprise!" I chirped, twirling in Daisy’s form, watching the edges of the white dress flair. We managed to get through our slow dance without any more major slip-ups, but I couldn’t resist teasing Hank. "Hand on the derriere, eh? Feel familiar?" I whispered, challenging him to suppress his laughter. When the dance floor opened up to the rest of the guests, Hank had to field about a gazillion questions. How had Daisy learned to rap? Was she always an action movie buff? Could she always twerk like that? By the end of the evening, watching Hank simultaneously enjoy and flounder through the unexpected adventure, I had to admit. This was too much fun. The night wound down, and as Daisy's toes curled in exhaustion within those monstrous heels, I felt the spellbook’s pull. With a final glance at Hank, I couldn't help myself. "Alright, lover boy. It's been real. Catch ya on the flip side." And then, in a flash, a whoosh, and the most spectacular swish of white lace, I was out. I plopped back into my body miles away, surrounded by musty books. Grinning, I readjusted to my own limbs. Somewhere, out there, I knew Hank was explaining (or trying to) the wildest wedding day Daisy never expected. And as I stretched, I couldn’t help but mutter, “Well, roommate from beyond, here’s to you taking center stage.”
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