The Hot Tub Chronicles: Bubbles, Bikinis, and a Ghost Named Dave
0 Points
0
Title: The Hot Tub Chronicles: Bubbles, Bikinis, and a Ghost Named Dave
---
"Honey, I swear to you, this is the life," I said, leaning back in our brand-new hot tub and stretching my arms, the warmth of the bubbling water easing my aching muscles.
"You always know how to choose the best places," my wife replied with a wink, her words laced with relaxation.
We had just clinched our dream house. A charming, quaint property that screamed potential and offered a touch of mysterious allure our realtor had ambiguously described as "spirited."
"Spirited, haunted. Tomato, tomahto," I said, rolling my eyes at the memory of that conversation.
"Yeah, what a load of nonsense," she agreed, easing into the hot tub with me.
But our peaceful dip was rudely interrupted. Suddenly, her body constricted, her muscles tightened, and her eyes deepened with an unnaturally dark hue.
"Uh, babe? You alright there?" I asked cautiously.
"Whoa! Blow me down, mate!" my wife bellowed in a distinct Aussie accent that certainly didn't belong to her. "This ain't the body I used to know!"
My jaw dropped. Before I could even form words, the possessed entity made itself at home in my wife's now trembling frame. He- no... she? Well, technically he flexed, now that’s disputing gender norms in a ghostly way.
"Dave?" I croaked, remembering the name from a brief mention in the property pamphlet.
"You betta believe it, bucko! Name's Dave. Former owner of this 'ere establishment. And let me tell ya, it’s quite cozy!" He- my wife's- well, okay, Dave's hands roamed their new curves with a grin I can only describe as horridly delighted.
"This- this is so strange," I muttered, pinching myself and realizing, nope, not a dream.
He let out a robust, masculine laugh that reverberated awkwardly through the garden for a woman’s body. "Ya gettin' queasy there, mate? Relax! Hahaha! This body ain't almost half as bad!"
I flinched at the ease with which Dave relaxed in his new busty body, a smug grin plastered on what I used to recognize as my wife.
"Um, look, Dave. Can't you... I dunno, move on to the afterlife or something? It's kinda weird watching you lounge about in her bikini,” I half-heartedly suggested.
"Oho, mate! Why would I wanna go anywhere when the view's THIS good?" He marveled as he glanced down, even adjusting the bikini strings to optimize comfort. "The missus picked herself a nice set o' togs, didn't she?"
"Those are from Victoria's Secret, you maniac! Those are- wait. This is weird. This is really weird."
"Oh lighten up, mate!" Dave chortled, striking an all-too-unnatural-yet-painfully-real feminine pose. "It ain't like your Sheila's gone forever. Just... takin' a break."
"Taking a break from life because of a ghost hot tub party?" I mumbled, feeling my headache escalate.
"Exactly! And I'm incorporeally entertained! Me old mates didn’t make house parties this fun!" Dave announced cheerfully.
Our tub journey became peculiarly vibrant. Dave, sporting low-cut tops and bikini bottoms that he proudly filled, often fired up the barbecue, bobbing to ghostly old-school tunes. "Strap in, mate! This is how we partied in the 70s!" he'd cheerfully say, dancing in circles with the grace of a lumberjack on wheels.
It was inappropriate. It was uncomfortable. It was- dare I say it- hysterically better than any housewarming we’d anticipated.
But how long could I handle Dave parading in my wife’s body? Looking so glamourously dotty yet conversationally bizarre?
"Maybe it's time I contact an exorcist," I mumbled into the bubbles of the hot tub one particularly peculiar night.
"Blokes like us don't need exorcists!" Dave burst out laughing. "We just need some cold ones and a signature victory dance!"
I shook my head, partly resigned. Totally bewildered. "Here's to hoping this body-sharing arrangement ends soon."
Dave-man, wife's grin widened, reveling in the moment. "Or maybe we just might find the new normal in this extraordinary life."
I chuckled reluctantly; this adventure truly epitomized spirit-conviction. House-warming remarkably turned body-warming, and Dave the party-ghost lad, forging a hilariously haunting new life.
---
The End
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 Me and my wife had just bought a new house. The realtor had told us it was haunted but we didn’t believe him. We had just installed a hot tub in our place. The first we went out to use it my where had begun to spasm and she was possessed by the former owner of the house Dave. Now he’s sitting in the hot tub enjoying the view of his new busty body. He looks over at me and lets out a masculine sounding laugh. I don't know how I'm going to do deal with some dude being in my wife's busty body, it just feels strange. I will say though Dave is the life of the party and when he wears her bikini's and low-cut tops, he certainly fills them well. Give Dave a middle-aged man accent in the story.
Response: Title: The Hot Tub Chronicles: Bubbles, Bikinis, and a Ghost Named Dave --- "Honey, I swear to you, this is the life," I said, leaning back in our brand-new hot tub and stretching my arms, the warmth of the bubbling water easing my aching muscles. "You always know how to choose the best places," my wife replied with a wink, her words laced with relaxation. We had just clinched our dream house. A charming, quaint property that screamed potential and offered a touch of mysterious allure our realtor had ambiguously described as "spirited." "Spirited, haunted. Tomato, tomahto," I said, rolling my eyes at the memory of that conversation. "Yeah, what a load of nonsense," she agreed, easing into the hot tub with me. But our peaceful dip was rudely interrupted. Suddenly, her body constricted, her muscles tightened, and her eyes deepened with an unnaturally dark hue. "Uh, babe? You alright there?" I asked cautiously. "Whoa! Blow me down, mate!" my wife bellowed in a distinct Aussie accent that certainly didn't belong to her. "This ain't the body I used to know!" My jaw dropped. Before I could even form words, the possessed entity made itself at home in my wife's now trembling frame. He- no... she? Well, technically he flexed, now that’s disputing gender norms in a ghostly way. "Dave?" I croaked, remembering the name from a brief mention in the property pamphlet. "You betta believe it, bucko! Name's Dave. Former owner of this 'ere establishment. And let me tell ya, it’s quite cozy!" He- my wife's- well, okay, Dave's hands roamed their new curves with a grin I can only describe as horridly delighted. "This- this is so strange," I muttered, pinching myself and realizing, nope, not a dream. He let out a robust, masculine laugh that reverberated awkwardly through the garden for a woman’s body. "Ya gettin' queasy there, mate? Relax! Hahaha! This body ain't almost half as bad!" I flinched at the ease with which Dave relaxed in his new busty body, a smug grin plastered on what I used to recognize as my wife. "Um, look, Dave. Can't you... I dunno, move on to the afterlife or something? It's kinda weird watching you lounge about in her bikini,” I half-heartedly suggested. "Oho, mate! Why would I wanna go anywhere when the view's THIS good?" He marveled as he glanced down, even adjusting the bikini strings to optimize comfort. "The missus picked herself a nice set o' togs, didn't she?" "Those are from Victoria's Secret, you maniac! Those are- wait. This is weird. This is really weird." "Oh lighten up, mate!" Dave chortled, striking an all-too-unnatural-yet-painfully-real feminine pose. "It ain't like your Sheila's gone forever. Just... takin' a break." "Taking a break from life because of a ghost hot tub party?" I mumbled, feeling my headache escalate. "Exactly! And I'm incorporeally entertained! Me old mates didn’t make house parties this fun!" Dave announced cheerfully. Our tub journey became peculiarly vibrant. Dave, sporting low-cut tops and bikini bottoms that he proudly filled, often fired up the barbecue, bobbing to ghostly old-school tunes. "Strap in, mate! This is how we partied in the 70s!" he'd cheerfully say, dancing in circles with the grace of a lumberjack on wheels. It was inappropriate. It was uncomfortable. It was- dare I say it- hysterically better than any housewarming we’d anticipated. But how long could I handle Dave parading in my wife’s body? Looking so glamourously dotty yet conversationally bizarre? "Maybe it's time I contact an exorcist," I mumbled into the bubbles of the hot tub one particularly peculiar night. "Blokes like us don't need exorcists!" Dave burst out laughing. "We just need some cold ones and a signature victory dance!" I shook my head, partly resigned. Totally bewildered. "Here's to hoping this body-sharing arrangement ends soon." Dave-man, wife's grin widened, reveling in the moment. "Or maybe we just might find the new normal in this extraordinary life." I chuckled reluctantly; this adventure truly epitomized spirit-conviction. House-warming remarkably turned body-warming, and Dave the party-ghost lad, forging a hilariously haunting new life. --- The End
Post your own comment: