"The Transformation of Mrs. Wetherly"
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It was a sunny, brisk day on February 23, 2022, and 7-year-old James Kelsey found himself in an uncomfortable predicament at Meadowbrook Elementary School. His sandy brown hair shimmered in the afternoon light pouring through the library windows as he slouched at a table, his bright blue eyes clouded with frustration.
James had done nothing wrong, at least in his mind, yet here he was, stuck in the library for detention. The culprit behind this injustice was none other than Mrs. Agatha Prudence Wetherly. An old-school educator, Mrs. Wetherly had been teaching at Meadowbrook for a staggering 35 years, having started her career at the age of 23. Born on October 15, 1956, Mrs. Wetherly had just celebrated her 65th birthday. She was a diminutive figure, standing at a mere 5'2” and weighing around 120 pounds. Her steel-grey hair was always pinned up in a tight bun, and she wore it in an old-fashioned style reminiscent of the 1950s. Her piercing grey eyes stared out from behind cat-eye horn-rimmed glasses, adorned with delicate floral engravings. Mrs. Wetherly's attire screamed of a bygone era: a knee-length navy blue skirt paired with a matching blazer, both adorned with small golden buttons. Her feet were clad in clunky platform sandals, worn down from years of use, their dark brown color contrasting sharply with her red-painted toenails. Around her neck hung a string of pearls, her earlobes weighed down by matching pearl earrings. On her left hand, she wore a simple gold wedding ring, a symbol of a marriage that had long since ended with her husband's passing.
James, on the other hand, was dressed in a casual outfit suitable for a boy his age. Today he sported a blue t-shirt with a superhero logo, paired with dark jeans and green sneakers. His small frame stood at about 4'2”, and his skinny build made him appear even younger than he was. Clutched tightly in his hand was a small, worn-out teddy bear named Mr. Snuggles, a gift from his 20-year-old mother, Emily, who had given it to him when he was just a baby. It was his source of comfort, especially in times of distress like this.
Mrs. Wetherly eyed the teddy bear with disdain as she stood up from her desk, her sandals making a distinctive "thump" sound on the linoleum floor. She approached James with a determined gait.
"James Kelsey, what is that in your hand?" she demanded, her voice as sharp as the glasses perched on her nose.
"It's Mr. Snuggles, Mrs. Wetherly," James replied, his voice small and shaky, tears welling up in his eyes.
"This is a place of learning, young man, not a daycare center!" she scolded. "Hand it over."
"But... please, no! It's from my mom!" James pleaded, his eyes pleading.
"No exceptions, young man," Mrs. Wetherly insisted, yanking the teddy bear from his grip. She marched back to her desk, opened a drawer, and unceremoniously dropped Mr. Snuggles inside.
"You will behave yourself while I step out for a moment. Is that clear?" Mrs. Wetherly said, her voice brooking no argument.
"Yes, Mrs. Wetherly," James mumbled, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Good. I will be right back."
As Mrs. Wetherly exited the library, James saw his opportunity. Determined to retrieve his beloved Mr. Snuggles, he made his way toward her desk, his heart pounding in his chest. He approached warily, inching closer with each step. He rounded the desk and carefully opened the drawer, laying eyes on Mr. Snuggles once more.
It was then that he noticed something peculiar: Mrs. Wetherly had taken off her glasses and jewelry, which were now scattered on the desk, and her platform sandals were kicked off beneath it. The sight of these old lady items made James wince in disgust. As he reached for Mr. Snuggles, his elbow inadvertently knocked over a pencil holder. In a panic, he scrambled to catch it, but his movements only made things worse. He bumped into the desk's leg, causing his shoes and socks to fly off. Stumbling, he ended up with his bare feet slipping into Mrs. Wetherly’s platform sandals, kicking them off immediately.
"Ew, gross! Girly shoes! Old lady shoes!" he exclaimed, sticking his tongue out as he recoiled in horror. But suddenly, a strange tingling sensation started in his feet. He watched in horror as his feet began to age and feminize, his toenails growing slightly longer and turning the same shade of red Mrs. Wetherly wore.
"No, no, no, no, no! Mommy, oh no! I don't wanna be a girl! I don't wanna be my meanie teacher!" James cried, tears flooding his eyes. He frantically tried to scrape off the nail polish, but his efforts were futile.
The transformation continued up his legs, which grew longer, more slender, and slightly wrinkled like those of an elderly woman. His torso and chest followed suit, changing shape and becoming more mature. His arms and hands aged next, his fingers elongating and acquiring a delicate, feminine appearance. His fingernails grew slightly longer, painted the same shade of red as his toenails.
Stumbling to a nearby mirror, James watched his own face morph in utter disbelief. His youthful features contorted into those of Mrs. Wetherly, complete with her hawkish nose and stern expression. His clothing shifted, the fabric of his t-shirt and jeans dissolving into the two-piece outfit he had derided earlier.
As his memories started to alter, James tried desperately to cling to his sense of self. "No, please, I want to be a nicer teacher!" he whimpered. But it was in vain; soon, he only remembered being Agatha Wetherly.
"What was I doing again? Oh, come on Agatha, you're 65 years old, you've been a teacher at this school for 35 years," she muttered to herself, scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror. She scolded herself for being confused, just as she might a wayward student.
Agatha returned to her desk, her keen eyes spotting her discarded jewelry, glasses, and sandals. She had no recollection of who she used to be. Carefully, she picked up her pearl necklace, clasping it around her neck, followed by her earrings. Next came her wedding ring, which she slipped onto her finger with a sense of ritualistic finality.
Retrieveing her glasses, she slid them onto her nose, the world coming back into stark, familiar clarity. Sitting down, she picked up the first of her platform sandals, fitting it over her foot and adjusting the straps until they were snug. She repeated the process with the second sandal, making sure it was securely fastened before standing up.
As she surveyed the library, she noticed the discarded items James had left behind—his shoes and socks. She thumped over, bending down and picking them up.
"I confiscated this from that troublesome boy, and he took it back without my permission. His mom will be getting a letter from me to address this unacceptable behavior at once. Nobody disobeys Agatha Wetherly and gets away with it," she declared, thumping back to her desk and slamming the drawer shut.
She picked up the photo of herself, studying it. "I would have been 23 years old here, the year 1979. I still remember that dress. I got it from my mother when America was still a decent place to live, not like now with all these kids running wild and women dressing like they want attention, like that singer, By-once."
Her thoughts drifted, and she couldn't help but voice her outdated opinions. "And all these black students... they don't know how to behave properly. It's a shame the standards have fallen so low."
Mrs. Wetherly placed the photo back on her desk, her stern expression unchanging, completely unaware of the young boy she once was. Her transformation, both physical and mental, was complete, leaving no trace of James Kelsey behind.
This story was generated by user manemansteve 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: long and thoroughly story about 7 year old James in the year 2022 stuck at school because he's been punished by one of his older female teachers whose in charge of the library as well against the wishes of his 20 year old mom. Include the teachers full name being an old school name, what she goes by to the students being old school, how long she's been a teacher at the school, age being 35+ years older than his mom, birthday, birth year being 35+ years before his mom, height, weight, hair color and style being an old fashioned style with a detailed description, eye color and have her wear cat eye horn brimmed glasses with a description of the glasses, and have her wear an old fashioned 2 piece teacher outfit of an knee length skirt and another piece with a description of the outfit and have her be wearing platform sandals with a description of the sandals being old looking and not pink with her nails painted with a description of the polish and have her be wearing old fashioned jewelry with a description of the jewelry and a wedding ring with a description of the ring. Have the boy be in a sorta detention due to something that wasn't his fault she believes was and have him be wearing a normal outfit of his own with a description of the outfit and a description of his hair color and eye color and height and birthday and birth year and have him be holding something that makes him feel better and more comfortable that he was holding cause he was in detention and include the item and what it was and who it was from. Have the teacher spot the item standing up and thumping over to the boy and taking his item and walking back over to behind her desk in the library and putting it in her drawer. Have the boy beg for it back and have it be in quoted text with tears in his eyes. Have the teacher say no and have it be in quoted text speaking like a strict old woman. Have her tell the boy she's going somewhere and will be right back and have it be in quoted text warning the boy to behave himself. Have the boy take this opportunity to get his item back walking worriedly closer to the teacher's desk. Have him go around to her side of the desk opening the drawer and seeing his item. Have him notice she kicked off her platform sandals and took off her glasses and her jewelry and her wedding ring getting grossed out at how old lady all her things looked. Have him notice an old picture of the teacher and describe what year it was taken and how old she was getting scared by how old she really was. Have him grab his item closing the drawer when he somehow managed to bump into or trip over something causing his shoes and socks to fly off leaving his feet bare and have him stumble into the platform sandals momentarily kicking them off immediately and going ew gross girly shoes old lady shoes and have it be in quoted text sticking his tongue out in disgust. Have his feet suddenly start tingling and cracking and aging feminizing getting slightly wrinkled as toenail polish with the color included and mentioned formed on his toenails matching his mean teacher's with detailed descriptions of his feet changing. Have him say no no no no no no mommy oh no i don't wanna be a girl i don't wanna be my meanie teacher and have it be in quoted text tears in his eyes frantically trying to scrape off the nail polish. Have his legs transform next feminizing and becoming old woman like with detailed descriptions of his legs changing. Have his torso and chest change next feminizing and maturing with detailed descriptions of his torso and chest changing. Have his arms and hands and fingers change next with detailed descriptions of his arms and hands and fingers maturing and feminizing as his fingernails slightly longer and with the same colored polish as his toes had. Have him stumble to a mirror watching his head and hair and face mature and feminize with detailed descriptions of his whole face changing into his mean teacher's. Have his outfit slowly change into the old fashioned 2 piece outfit with a detailed description of it forming. Have his memories start changing scaring him again and have him try to hold onto his innocence or at least hope to be a nicer teacher but have it be in vain as he slowly only remembered being the mean old teacher she always was minus her jewelry and wedding ring and glasses and platform sandals at the moment. Have the woman blink in confusion as she looked at herself in the mirror. Have her say what was i doing again oh come on ______ you're __ years old you've been a teacher at this school for __ years and have it be in quoted text filling in the blanks and going on and lecturing herself for being confused. Have her go back to her desk spotting her jewelry and her wedding ring and her glasses and her platform sandals having no memory of who she used to be. Have her start by putting her jewelry on piece by piece slowly with detailed descriptions of her doing so. Have her then slip her wedding ring on her finger with a detailed description of her doing so. Have her grab her glasses putting them on with a detailed description of her doing so. Have her grab her platform sandals sitting down and have her put the first sandal on with a detailed description of her doing so and adjusting it and tightening it. Have her do the same with the second sandal with a detailed description of her doing so and adjusting it and tightening it. Have her then stand up looking around the library before spotting the item she confiscated earlier and thumping over to it again. Have her bend down picking it up. Have her say i confiscated this from that _____ _____ and he took it back without my permission and snooped through my desk his mom will be getting a ______ from me to ______ this ______ behavior at once nobody disobeys _______ ______ and gets away with it and have it be in quoted text filling in the blanks having no memory of who she used to be. Have her thump back to her desk putting it back in the desk and slamming it shut noticing the shoes and socks discarded on the ground picking them up. Have her say did that yo___ ma___ take off his shoes and socks to try on my ______ how _______ what is he thinking these _____ are for ____ only he's a ____ not a _____ how ______ i bet he wishes he could wear my ____ too and my ___ and have his nails painted ____ like me what a little homo____ if he were my son i'd _____ him until he started acting right and have it be in quoted text filling in the blanks. Have her look at the photo of herself on the desk picking it up and have her say i would've been __ years old here the year ____ i still remember that ____ i wore got it from my mo____ ____when Amer____ was still a ____ place to live not like now with all these _____ and women dressing like they want ____ like that singer _____ and have it be in quoted text filling in the blanks mispronouncing the name of a famous female singer and spell it the way she pronounces it. Have her thoughts drift to the black students in her school and have her say something outdated about all the black students and have it be in quoted text being very nasty but believing she is right in her sayings.
Response: It was a sunny, brisk day on February 23, 2022, and 7-year-old James Kelsey found himself in an uncomfortable predicament at Meadowbrook Elementary School. His sandy brown hair shimmered in the afternoon light pouring through the library windows as he slouched at a table, his bright blue eyes clouded with frustration. James had done nothing wrong, at least in his mind, yet here he was, stuck in the library for detention. The culprit behind this injustice was none other than Mrs. Agatha Prudence Wetherly. An old-school educator, Mrs. Wetherly had been teaching at Meadowbrook for a staggering 35 years, having started her career at the age of 23. Born on October 15, 1956, Mrs. Wetherly had just celebrated her 65th birthday. She was a diminutive figure, standing at a mere 5'2” and weighing around 120 pounds. Her steel-grey hair was always pinned up in a tight bun, and she wore it in an old-fashioned style reminiscent of the 1950s. Her piercing grey eyes stared out from behind cat-eye horn-rimmed glasses, adorned with delicate floral engravings. Mrs. Wetherly's attire screamed of a bygone era: a knee-length navy blue skirt paired with a matching blazer, both adorned with small golden buttons. Her feet were clad in clunky platform sandals, worn down from years of use, their dark brown color contrasting sharply with her red-painted toenails. Around her neck hung a string of pearls, her earlobes weighed down by matching pearl earrings. On her left hand, she wore a simple gold wedding ring, a symbol of a marriage that had long since ended with her husband's passing. James, on the other hand, was dressed in a casual outfit suitable for a boy his age. Today he sported a blue t-shirt with a superhero logo, paired with dark jeans and green sneakers. His small frame stood at about 4'2”, and his skinny build made him appear even younger than he was. Clutched tightly in his hand was a small, worn-out teddy bear named Mr. Snuggles, a gift from his 20-year-old mother, Emily, who had given it to him when he was just a baby. It was his source of comfort, especially in times of distress like this. Mrs. Wetherly eyed the teddy bear with disdain as she stood up from her desk, her sandals making a distinctive "thump" sound on the linoleum floor. She approached James with a determined gait. "James Kelsey, what is that in your hand?" she demanded, her voice as sharp as the glasses perched on her nose. "It's Mr. Snuggles, Mrs. Wetherly," James replied, his voice small and shaky, tears welling up in his eyes. "This is a place of learning, young man, not a daycare center!" she scolded. "Hand it over." "But... please, no! It's from my mom!" James pleaded, his eyes pleading. "No exceptions, young man," Mrs. Wetherly insisted, yanking the teddy bear from his grip. She marched back to her desk, opened a drawer, and unceremoniously dropped Mr. Snuggles inside. "You will behave yourself while I step out for a moment. Is that clear?" Mrs. Wetherly said, her voice brooking no argument. "Yes, Mrs. Wetherly," James mumbled, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. "Good. I will be right back." As Mrs. Wetherly exited the library, James saw his opportunity. Determined to retrieve his beloved Mr. Snuggles, he made his way toward her desk, his heart pounding in his chest. He approached warily, inching closer with each step. He rounded the desk and carefully opened the drawer, laying eyes on Mr. Snuggles once more. It was then that he noticed something peculiar: Mrs. Wetherly had taken off her glasses and jewelry, which were now scattered on the desk, and her platform sandals were kicked off beneath it. The sight of these old lady items made James wince in disgust. As he reached for Mr. Snuggles, his elbow inadvertently knocked over a pencil holder. In a panic, he scrambled to catch it, but his movements only made things worse. He bumped into the desk's leg, causing his shoes and socks to fly off. Stumbling, he ended up with his bare feet slipping into Mrs. Wetherly’s platform sandals, kicking them off immediately. "Ew, gross! Girly shoes! Old lady shoes!" he exclaimed, sticking his tongue out as he recoiled in horror. But suddenly, a strange tingling sensation started in his feet. He watched in horror as his feet began to age and feminize, his toenails growing slightly longer and turning the same shade of red Mrs. Wetherly wore. "No, no, no, no, no! Mommy, oh no! I don't wanna be a girl! I don't wanna be my meanie teacher!" James cried, tears flooding his eyes. He frantically tried to scrape off the nail polish, but his efforts were futile. The transformation continued up his legs, which grew longer, more slender, and slightly wrinkled like those of an elderly woman. His torso and chest followed suit, changing shape and becoming more mature. His arms and hands aged next, his fingers elongating and acquiring a delicate, feminine appearance. His fingernails grew slightly longer, painted the same shade of red as his toenails. Stumbling to a nearby mirror, James watched his own face morph in utter disbelief. His youthful features contorted into those of Mrs. Wetherly, complete with her hawkish nose and stern expression. His clothing shifted, the fabric of his t-shirt and jeans dissolving into the two-piece outfit he had derided earlier. As his memories started to alter, James tried desperately to cling to his sense of self. "No, please, I want to be a nicer teacher!" he whimpered. But it was in vain; soon, he only remembered being Agatha Wetherly. "What was I doing again? Oh, come on Agatha, you're 65 years old, you've been a teacher at this school for 35 years," she muttered to herself, scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror. She scolded herself for being confused, just as she might a wayward student. Agatha returned to her desk, her keen eyes spotting her discarded jewelry, glasses, and sandals. She had no recollection of who she used to be. Carefully, she picked up her pearl necklace, clasping it around her neck, followed by her earrings. Next came her wedding ring, which she slipped onto her finger with a sense of ritualistic finality. Retrieveing her glasses, she slid them onto her nose, the world coming back into stark, familiar clarity. Sitting down, she picked up the first of her platform sandals, fitting it over her foot and adjusting the straps until they were snug. She repeated the process with the second sandal, making sure it was securely fastened before standing up. As she surveyed the library, she noticed the discarded items James had left behind—his shoes and socks. She thumped over, bending down and picking them up. "I confiscated this from that troublesome boy, and he took it back without my permission. His mom will be getting a letter from me to address this unacceptable behavior at once. Nobody disobeys Agatha Wetherly and gets away with it," she declared, thumping back to her desk and slamming the drawer shut. She picked up the photo of herself, studying it. "I would have been 23 years old here, the year 1979. I still remember that dress. I got it from my mother when America was still a decent place to live, not like now with all these kids running wild and women dressing like they want attention, like that singer, By-once." Her thoughts drifted, and she couldn't help but voice her outdated opinions. "And all these black students... they don't know how to behave properly. It's a shame the standards have fallen so low." Mrs. Wetherly placed the photo back on her desk, her stern expression unchanging, completely unaware of the young boy she once was. Her transformation, both physical and mental, was complete, leaving no trace of James Kelsey behind.
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