The Great Shift of Life
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Title: The Great Shift of Life
Growing up we were like Walther and Perry, loving baseball since we could barely suck our thumbs. My brother, in particular, was a comet with a fastball, set for the big leagues, He was a total jock. That, at least, was until the occurrence known... or 'cursed'... as The Great Shift.
One fine day, without asking for any sort of permission, The Great Shift placed the modern Adonis in our mother's shapely body, it was a sight to behold. My brother was, all of a sudden, a lady of significant curves.
First time we played catch post-Shift, he winced, maneuvering his chest while trying to throw the ball. "Damn, these things are in the way," he whined, shaking his new bosom which jiggle like jelly on a washing machine, I couldn't help my laughter.
"And what's the deal with these nails?" He grumbled, examining the French manicure that now adorned his mother's delicate hands. I only shrugged and let another round of chuckles escape me.
But my brother wasn't one to wallow in whining, if anything, this situation only invigorated his fighting spirit. For the love of baseball and because he didn't want to be labeled a 'quitter', he trained relentlessly, transforming momâs body into a formidable coed league player.
His high school buds did their share of teasing. He got nickname after nickname due to the 'new additionsâ and physique. From âJiggly Jigglyâ to âBouncy Bettyâ, they left no stone unturned. He took it all in stride though, laughing along with every snide comment about his 'mountainous assets'.
The day he was hit on the chest with a pitch, we all laughed so hard our ribs ached. He pouted, probably feeling the pain and embarrassment at once, but then joined in the laughter himself, ever the good sport.
There was this other time when he dove for a catch and the ball, defying laws of physics, landed in his cleavage, held tightly between his 'twins'. Amidst hoots, roars, and shrieking laughter, he arose, holding up the captured ball like a trophy. That sure counts as an out, right?
The whole ordeal taught me one thing: our mom was in shape better than Iâd ever imagined. Sure, my brother hated the bunch of inconveniences initially but eventually, he adjusted. He had no other choice but to get used to his new, Chesty Bulldog jersey and invest in pants that would gracefully cover his wide hips and bubble butt. Thus, the saga of my brother, the Baseball Lady, began.
Life sure has an amazing curveball.
This story was generated by user zach3 with assistance by one of OpenAIâs 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 motherâs 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 momâs 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 didnât 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 pants to fit over my curvy ass and wipe hips.
Response: Title: The Great Shift of Life Growing up we were like Walther and Perry, loving baseball since we could barely suck our thumbs. My brother, in particular, was a comet with a fastball, set for the big leagues, He was a total jock. That, at least, was until the occurrence known... or 'cursed'... as The Great Shift. One fine day, without asking for any sort of permission, The Great Shift placed the modern Adonis in our mother's shapely body, it was a sight to behold. My brother was, all of a sudden, a lady of significant curves. First time we played catch post-Shift, he winced, maneuvering his chest while trying to throw the ball. "Damn, these things are in the way," he whined, shaking his new bosom which jiggle like jelly on a washing machine, I couldn't help my laughter. "And what's the deal with these nails?" He grumbled, examining the French manicure that now adorned his mother's delicate hands. I only shrugged and let another round of chuckles escape me. But my brother wasn't one to wallow in whining, if anything, this situation only invigorated his fighting spirit. For the love of baseball and because he didn't want to be labeled a 'quitter', he trained relentlessly, transforming momâs body into a formidable coed league player. His high school buds did their share of teasing. He got nickname after nickname due to the 'new additionsâ and physique. From âJiggly Jigglyâ to âBouncy Bettyâ, they left no stone unturned. He took it all in stride though, laughing along with every snide comment about his 'mountainous assets'. The day he was hit on the chest with a pitch, we all laughed so hard our ribs ached. He pouted, probably feeling the pain and embarrassment at once, but then joined in the laughter himself, ever the good sport. There was this other time when he dove for a catch and the ball, defying laws of physics, landed in his cleavage, held tightly between his 'twins'. Amidst hoots, roars, and shrieking laughter, he arose, holding up the captured ball like a trophy. That sure counts as an out, right? The whole ordeal taught me one thing: our mom was in shape better than Iâd ever imagined. Sure, my brother hated the bunch of inconveniences initially but eventually, he adjusted. He had no other choice but to get used to his new, Chesty Bulldog jersey and invest in pants that would gracefully cover his wide hips and bubble butt. Thus, the saga of my brother, the Baseball Lady, began. Life sure has an amazing curveball.
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