**Title: Bridesmaid for a Day**

**Title: The Possession Predicament**

I never expected that learning a new hobby would lead me to possessing my best friend’s wife on his wedding day, but hey, life’s unpredictable like that. One minute, I was trying out some ancient spells from a dusty old book, and the next, I’m looking down at a pristine white wedding dress and finding myself in possession of a curvy figure I’ve never quite experienced from first-hand vantage point. Let’s just say this was not in the wedding program.

I made my grand entrance down the aisle, swishing in Clara’s (oops, I mean my) immaculate gown. I couldn’t help but smirk. When I finally locked eyes with Tom, standing there at the altar, the look on his face was utterly priceless. I mean, who could blame him? Here he was, right in the middle of ‘I dos,’ and his bride was suddenly possessed by—ahem—yours truly.

“Tom, my man,” I thought, resisting an outright laugh. “You never thought your wedding would have special effects, did you?”

The ceremony continued, but my fascination with my new, temporarily feminine body kept distracting me. I took a moment to glance down at… well, Clara’s… no, MY temporarily new assets. They jiggled a bit as I moved. Hilarious and endlessly fascinating! Tom threw me a bewildered—and slightly amused—look as I chuckled quietly to myself.

“Holy crap, I've got boobs!” I murmured under my breath, giggling.

I think I shocked pretty much everyone when, during the vows, I busted out some rhymes from Eminem. Honestly, my rap skills don’t seem nearly as impressive when contrasted against Clara’s angelic persona. If I wasn’t mistaken, Aunt Ruth almost fainted.

After the ceremony, came the reception. There, the real fun began. Honestly, if you’ve never twerked at someone else’s wedding reception in a bride’s body, you should really give it a try. The crowd was a mix of horror and high-fives. These hips were made for shaking, and shake they did.

“Twerk it, Clara!” Someone yelled.

“I’m sorry, man,” I whispered to Tom as I hijacked his slow dance, making Clara’s lower half shimmy. “But your wife's got moves! And these heels—my God. How do you ladies do it?”

Tom just kept laughing, probably wondering if he should smack me or just join in. We reminisced about high school, and he playfully jabbed back about having his hand on my, uh, Clara’s butt.

“Oh, come on,” I teased, winking. “Admit it, you’ve always wanted to cop a feel of someone’s butt in a dress.”

“Not today, Steve,” he laughed. “Not today.”

The icing on the cake came after the dance, however, when it hit both Tom and me: the spellbook was back at my place, miles away. No spell book meant no quick fix.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tom groaned, but I could see the amusement in his eyes. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Guess I’m coming to Hawaii, bud. As your wife—Clara’s gonna kill me when I fix this.”

Boy, I wish I could describe Clara’s reaction to all the free-spirited shenanigans. She’s a darling, but seeing her normally poised self act like a goofball at a wedding? It’s kinda refreshing. Maybe Tom should be thanking me.

“Well, better start packing… or unpacking… hell, I don’t know how this works,” I joked, hands on Clara’s less distinguishable hips. “But make sure you pack Clara some comfy flip-flops; these heels are murder!”

As Tom and I stumbled out of the reception, laughing like old times, we realized this day would go down in history as the most bizarre, yet oddly memorable, wedding ever. Besides, who’s ever heard of another wedding where the best friend stole the bride’s body and still managed to have a fantastic time? Exactly.

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.

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