The Possessed Bounce: A Tale of Pervy Neighbors and Freak Armadas
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When I came home after a long day at work, the last thing I expected was to find my wife—sweet, reserved Linda—strutting around the living room in her underwear and commenting on her "rack" and her "dumptruck." I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Unfortunately, my vision was 20/20, and the strange behavior persisted.
"Uh, Linda?" I asked hesitantly. "You feeling okay, hon?"
She looked at me, eyes wide with a mischievous glint I'd never seen before. "Oh, hey there... Brad, right? Dude, check this out—" She bounced once, twice, thrice, and I cringed. She wasn’t just flying a freak flag; she was launching a freak armada.
"Linda, you never talk like that. Are you sure everything’s alright?" My voice trembled, and I couldn't help but furrow my brows in concern.
Linda—or whoever this Linda-lookalike was—walked over, gliding in a way that seemed both alien and disturbing. "Chill out, man!" She laughed, peeking down her own top. "I just realized what a banging bod I've got! How have I been hiding these puppies under those boring old sweaters?"
"Uh, I dunno, Linda," I muttered, really regretting the day I decided to add squirrel noises to my stress-relief toolkit. "You want to maybe put some clothes on and... not talk about your... 'dumptruck' like that?"
"Why would I hide this?" She gestured grandly, twirling. Then something clicked in my brain. Wait a sec, who would use such ludicrous lingo...?
Simon, the pervy 19-year-old neighbor from next door, popped into my mind. The only guy I knew of who had once described his own biceps as "snakes hungry for mice."
"Simon!" I barked, making Linda-Simon freeze mid-twirl. "Are you in there?"
Her—his—eyes darted around shiftily. "Uh, nooo...?"
"Simon, I swear, if you’ve possessed my wife’s body—what, did you find a friggin' takeover spell on Craigslist or something?"
"MagicShop.com, dude," Simon—using Linda's sweet voice, which made it infinitely creepier—admitted with a shrug. "It was on sale."
"You can’t just go possessing people! Especially my wife, you little creep!" I groaned. "Do you have any idea how... how... wrong this is?!”
Simon-in-Linda's-body looked briefly ashamed but then perked up. "Well, fine! But, like, can you at least appreciate the opportunity to see her in a different light?"
"Appreciate what? My wife being a victim in her own body? Dude, you are literally the reason there could be laws passed about stuff like this!"
"Okay, okay! I’ll—I’ll go.” Simon raised Linda's arms in defeat. “But can I, like, bounce one more time? Just a... farewell bounce?"
"NO!"
"Alright, man," he sighed. "Give me a sec."
Linda’s—his—eyes glazed over for a moment before she crumpled to the floor.
I rushed over, heart pounding. "Linda! Are you okay? Speak to me, baby!"
Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared at me in utter confusion, wrapping her arms around herself. "Brad? Why am I on the floor in my underwear?"
I offered her a hand, helping her stand up. "Long story, honey. How about we get you dressed, and I'll explain everything over a big glass of wine?"
She rubbed her head as though trying to ward off a headache. "Two glasses, at least."
As I led her to the bedroom, I couldn't help but glance out the window at the house next door. Simon’s blinds were shut, but I had half a mind to pin him down and explain some very important ground rules. After all, if he ever tried anything like this again, there wouldn't just be a stiff drink in his future; there’d be a very stiff talking-to from the legal system.
Linda's grip on my arm tightened. "Brad," she whispered. "We'll get through anything together, right?"
"Absolutely," I promised, guiding her through the door. "But first, let's figure out a way to make possession-proof pajamas. Just in case."
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: When I came home to find my wife strutting around in her underwear I was pretty confused. But I was more confused when I heard her commenting on her “Rack” and her “dumptruck” as she called it. This was not her she would never say such degrading things. What I didn’t know was that my pervy 19 year neighbor who had a crush on her had found a takeover spell and possessed her body. He seems to like her body he keeps looking down his top and bouncing and keeps looking through her lingerie. I guess I have to try and treat this guy as best as I can. write the story with tons of dialogue.
Response: When I came home after a long day at work, the last thing I expected was to find my wife—sweet, reserved Linda—strutting around the living room in her underwear and commenting on her "rack" and her "dumptruck." I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Unfortunately, my vision was 20/20, and the strange behavior persisted. "Uh, Linda?" I asked hesitantly. "You feeling okay, hon?" She looked at me, eyes wide with a mischievous glint I'd never seen before. "Oh, hey there... Brad, right? Dude, check this out—" She bounced once, twice, thrice, and I cringed. She wasn’t just flying a freak flag; she was launching a freak armada. "Linda, you never talk like that. Are you sure everything’s alright?" My voice trembled, and I couldn't help but furrow my brows in concern. Linda—or whoever this Linda-lookalike was—walked over, gliding in a way that seemed both alien and disturbing. "Chill out, man!" She laughed, peeking down her own top. "I just realized what a banging bod I've got! How have I been hiding these puppies under those boring old sweaters?" "Uh, I dunno, Linda," I muttered, really regretting the day I decided to add squirrel noises to my stress-relief toolkit. "You want to maybe put some clothes on and... not talk about your... 'dumptruck' like that?" "Why would I hide this?" She gestured grandly, twirling. Then something clicked in my brain. Wait a sec, who would use such ludicrous lingo...? Simon, the pervy 19-year-old neighbor from next door, popped into my mind. The only guy I knew of who had once described his own biceps as "snakes hungry for mice." "Simon!" I barked, making Linda-Simon freeze mid-twirl. "Are you in there?" Her—his—eyes darted around shiftily. "Uh, nooo...?" "Simon, I swear, if you’ve possessed my wife’s body—what, did you find a friggin' takeover spell on Craigslist or something?" "MagicShop.com, dude," Simon—using Linda's sweet voice, which made it infinitely creepier—admitted with a shrug. "It was on sale." "You can’t just go possessing people! Especially my wife, you little creep!" I groaned. "Do you have any idea how... how... wrong this is?!” Simon-in-Linda's-body looked briefly ashamed but then perked up. "Well, fine! But, like, can you at least appreciate the opportunity to see her in a different light?" "Appreciate what? My wife being a victim in her own body? Dude, you are literally the reason there could be laws passed about stuff like this!" "Okay, okay! I’ll—I’ll go.” Simon raised Linda's arms in defeat. “But can I, like, bounce one more time? Just a... farewell bounce?" "NO!" "Alright, man," he sighed. "Give me a sec." Linda’s—his—eyes glazed over for a moment before she crumpled to the floor. I rushed over, heart pounding. "Linda! Are you okay? Speak to me, baby!" Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared at me in utter confusion, wrapping her arms around herself. "Brad? Why am I on the floor in my underwear?" I offered her a hand, helping her stand up. "Long story, honey. How about we get you dressed, and I'll explain everything over a big glass of wine?" She rubbed her head as though trying to ward off a headache. "Two glasses, at least." As I led her to the bedroom, I couldn't help but glance out the window at the house next door. Simon’s blinds were shut, but I had half a mind to pin him down and explain some very important ground rules. After all, if he ever tried anything like this again, there wouldn't just be a stiff drink in his future; there’d be a very stiff talking-to from the legal system. Linda's grip on my arm tightened. "Brad," she whispered. "We'll get through anything together, right?" "Absolutely," I promised, guiding her through the door. "But first, let's figure out a way to make possession-proof pajamas. Just in case."
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