Title: Stranded in Another Reflection
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In the year 2020, Ben, a bright-eyed seven-year-old with sandy blond hair and freckles, found himself in a harsh new reality. The world was grappling with a zombie pandemic, and the air was filled with unease. Ben was wearing a small blue jacket that clung to his slim frame, matchstick jeans that barely touched his ankles, and blue sneakers with velcro straps. His mother, Linda, a 34-year-old white woman standing at 5'4" with a weight of 140 pounds, her birthday falling after June in 1985, led the charge. Her dark brown hair, worn in a practical ponytail, contrasted with her piercing green eyes. She wore a light grey t-shirt, a pair of practical jeans, and sturdy hiking boots fitting her size 7 feet as they carefully picked out food and supplies in the otherwise lifeless grocery store.
They moved cautiously down the aisles, filling their shopping cart with canned goods, bottled water, and any essential supplies they could find. The cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered, casting eerie shadows that seemed to have a life of their own.
Suddenly, the distant sound of shattering glass echoed through the store, followed by guttural moans that sent shivers racing down Ben's spine. Zombies. Shapes began to materialize at the store's entrance, their decaying forms illuminated in the flickering light. Linda's eyes widened in fear, and she grabbed Ben's hand tightly.
"Run, Ben! Stay close!" she shouted.
Caught in a whirlwind of panic, they sprinted down the aisle. As they turned the corner, a woman appeared before them, standing in the seasonal section. She wore a pastel yellow summer dress that fluttered gracefully around her knees. Her skimpy wedges, bearing delicate floral patterns, added a few inches to her height. Six pieces of feminine jewelry adorned her body: a pair of pearl earrings, a delicate silver bracelet, a pendant necklace, a brooch decorated with an English rose, a set of stacked bangles, and a ring with the Union Jack flag.
This woman was Emma, a 34-year-old British expat from Yorkshire, standing at 5'6" and weighing 125 pounds. Her birthday was before June, in 1985. She had clean-cut straight blonde hair cascading to her waist, and her eyes were a deep blue. Emma's shoe size, a petite 6, was slightly smaller than Linda's. She caught sight of Ben amidst the chaos, her eyes widening with sudden determination. She had come to the store seeking supplies for her family, hoping to survive another week in these dire times.
As Linda and Ben ran towards the back exit, Emma reached out and grabbed Ben's arm. "Stay calm, lad!" she exclaimed in her thick British accent. Ben tried to pull away but found himself overwhelmed by a sudden dizziness that made his vision fade to black.
When Ben's eyes fluttered open, nothing felt right. He felt... taller, and his body was enveloped in an unfamiliar warmth. Looking down, his breath caught—his small frame was now draped in the same summer dress Emma had been wearing. His once-short hair fell down in long, golden waves, obstructing his vision. The wedges on his feet felt foreign and cumbersome.
"Mummy? Where are you?" he called out, his voice now a higher, feminine pitch. There was no response. Panic surged through him as he struggled to stand, wobbling and tripping over the girly wedges.
The soft material of the dress clung to his skin, a tactile reminder of how vulnerable he felt. His new high-pitched voice echoed in his ears as he gagged at how girly it all was. "I want to go home! I want Mummy!" he cried, but it came out different— "Oi wan' ta go 'ome! Oi wan' Mummy!" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he fought to hold on to any shred of his identity.
Desperate, he began to play with his long hair, trying to twist it up and tuck it behind his ears, only to have it fall back into his face no matter what he did. The dress, with its delicate straps and fitted waist, resisted his every attempt to remove it. The floral wedges, secure on his feet, mocked his inability to make progress. He sat down and attempted one method after another—pulling the straps over his heels, trying to unlatch an imaginary clasp, and even wedging his fingers between the material and his skin. Nothing worked; the wedges remained steadfast.
He turned his attention to the jewelry, tugging at the pearl earrings first. They wouldn’t budge. When he tried to take off the bracelet, it seemed fused to his new, slender wrist. The pendant necklace’s clasp refused to open, and the brooch, with its intricate pin, felt as solid as a lock. The stacked bangles and the ring with the Union Jack were no more cooperative.
Finally, Ben looked into a broken mirror on the grocery store floor. The face looking back at him was unrecognizable. He traced the delicate features with dainty fingers, longing to see his own reflection once more. "I'm scared," he whispered, terrified and shivering— “Oi’m bluddy scared!” The British accent that had overtaken his speech only served to heighten his panic.
As he tried to say more, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the terror, he felt entirely lost in the alien body. Alone and frightened, all he could think of was finding his mommy amidst the chaos, and hoping, pleading, for a way out of this nightmare.
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: A long and thorough and detailed story taking place in the year 2020 starring 7 year old Ben with a description of what he's wearing and his race being white and have him be shopping with his mom in the middle of a zombie pandemic. Include his mom's name, age, height, weight, birthday being after June, birth year, hair color and style and eye color, and her shoe size mentioned. Have them be wearily grabbing food and supplies putting it in the cart when zombies started pouring in to the grocery store. Have his mom start running with him following close behind. Have a woman appear wearing a summer outfit and a description of the dress being a summer dress and have her be wearing a pair of skimpy wedges with a description of the wedges and a total of 6 pieces of feminine jewelry she was wearing with some of them being British in culture. Include the woman's name, age, height, weight, birthday being before June, birth year being the same as his mom, being British or from the UK and what part of it, hair color and style just being long and straight with a detailed description of her hair and eye color and her shoe size mentioned being smaller than his moms and include a reason for why she was at the store and where she came from and why. Have her notice the boy reaching out to grab him and have him try to avoid her still being grabbed by the woman getting dizzy and have his vision go black. Have him open his eyes realizing he's taller and feels different looking down seeing his new long hair and his dress and the girly wedges he was now wearing and have him look for his mommy worriedly realizing she's now gone. Have him try to run stumbling over the wedges he was now wearing and have the woman's outfit be very cold and have do something hard hearing a female voice and have him gag at how girly it all was and have him squeeze his eyes shut. Have him do everything to pace himself trying to run away from the zombies and have his long hair get in his view and have the wedges be hard to run in and have him consistently trip over the wedges eventually getting far enough away from the zombies. Have him innocently study his new reflection tracing his eyes with his dainty fingers and have him try to change his eyes back to normal noticing they look nothing like his mother's but give up on trying being specific as to what he did. Have him say i want to go home i want mommy and have it be in quoted text unwillingly speaking in a British accent and saying some words wrong and unwillingly using British slang and British cuss words like bloody and show the quoted text the way he said versus how he wanted to say it. Have him start crying at the sound of his voice. Have him play with his hair trying to make it look less girly as it was so long being specific as to what he did. Have him try to remove the dress from the woman's body in different ways being unsuccessful and including each of the ways in the story with a detailed description. Have him try to remove the skimpy wedges being unable to trying in 5 different ways and including each of the 5 ways in the story but the wedges aren't glued to her feet they just won't come off. Have him try to remove the first piece of the woman's jewelry being detailed and specific but being unable to remove it and why. Have him try to remove the second piece of the woman's jewelry being detailed and specific but being unable to remove it and why. Have him try to remove the third piece of the woman's jewelry being detailed and specific but being unable to remove it and why. Have him try to remove the fourth piece of the woman's jewelry being detailed and specific but being unable to remove it and why. Have him try to remove the fifth piece of the woman's jewelry being detailed and specific but being unable to remove it and why. Have him try to remove the sixth piece of the woman's jewelry being detailed and specific but being unable to remove it and why. Have him try to say I'm scared and have it be in quoted text unwillingly speaking with a British accent again and British curse words like bloody and show the quote the way he said versus how he wanted to say it and have him squeeze his eyes shut in fear.
Response: In the year 2020, Ben, a bright-eyed seven-year-old with sandy blond hair and freckles, found himself in a harsh new reality. The world was grappling with a zombie pandemic, and the air was filled with unease. Ben was wearing a small blue jacket that clung to his slim frame, matchstick jeans that barely touched his ankles, and blue sneakers with velcro straps. His mother, Linda, a 34-year-old white woman standing at 5'4" with a weight of 140 pounds, her birthday falling after June in 1985, led the charge. Her dark brown hair, worn in a practical ponytail, contrasted with her piercing green eyes. She wore a light grey t-shirt, a pair of practical jeans, and sturdy hiking boots fitting her size 7 feet as they carefully picked out food and supplies in the otherwise lifeless grocery store. They moved cautiously down the aisles, filling their shopping cart with canned goods, bottled water, and any essential supplies they could find. The cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered, casting eerie shadows that seemed to have a life of their own. Suddenly, the distant sound of shattering glass echoed through the store, followed by guttural moans that sent shivers racing down Ben's spine. Zombies. Shapes began to materialize at the store's entrance, their decaying forms illuminated in the flickering light. Linda's eyes widened in fear, and she grabbed Ben's hand tightly. "Run, Ben! Stay close!" she shouted. Caught in a whirlwind of panic, they sprinted down the aisle. As they turned the corner, a woman appeared before them, standing in the seasonal section. She wore a pastel yellow summer dress that fluttered gracefully around her knees. Her skimpy wedges, bearing delicate floral patterns, added a few inches to her height. Six pieces of feminine jewelry adorned her body: a pair of pearl earrings, a delicate silver bracelet, a pendant necklace, a brooch decorated with an English rose, a set of stacked bangles, and a ring with the Union Jack flag. This woman was Emma, a 34-year-old British expat from Yorkshire, standing at 5'6" and weighing 125 pounds. Her birthday was before June, in 1985. She had clean-cut straight blonde hair cascading to her waist, and her eyes were a deep blue. Emma's shoe size, a petite 6, was slightly smaller than Linda's. She caught sight of Ben amidst the chaos, her eyes widening with sudden determination. She had come to the store seeking supplies for her family, hoping to survive another week in these dire times. As Linda and Ben ran towards the back exit, Emma reached out and grabbed Ben's arm. "Stay calm, lad!" she exclaimed in her thick British accent. Ben tried to pull away but found himself overwhelmed by a sudden dizziness that made his vision fade to black. When Ben's eyes fluttered open, nothing felt right. He felt... taller, and his body was enveloped in an unfamiliar warmth. Looking down, his breath caught—his small frame was now draped in the same summer dress Emma had been wearing. His once-short hair fell down in long, golden waves, obstructing his vision. The wedges on his feet felt foreign and cumbersome. "Mummy? Where are you?" he called out, his voice now a higher, feminine pitch. There was no response. Panic surged through him as he struggled to stand, wobbling and tripping over the girly wedges. The soft material of the dress clung to his skin, a tactile reminder of how vulnerable he felt. His new high-pitched voice echoed in his ears as he gagged at how girly it all was. "I want to go home! I want Mummy!" he cried, but it came out different— "Oi wan' ta go 'ome! Oi wan' Mummy!" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he fought to hold on to any shred of his identity. Desperate, he began to play with his long hair, trying to twist it up and tuck it behind his ears, only to have it fall back into his face no matter what he did. The dress, with its delicate straps and fitted waist, resisted his every attempt to remove it. The floral wedges, secure on his feet, mocked his inability to make progress. He sat down and attempted one method after another—pulling the straps over his heels, trying to unlatch an imaginary clasp, and even wedging his fingers between the material and his skin. Nothing worked; the wedges remained steadfast. He turned his attention to the jewelry, tugging at the pearl earrings first. They wouldn’t budge. When he tried to take off the bracelet, it seemed fused to his new, slender wrist. The pendant necklace’s clasp refused to open, and the brooch, with its intricate pin, felt as solid as a lock. The stacked bangles and the ring with the Union Jack were no more cooperative. Finally, Ben looked into a broken mirror on the grocery store floor. The face looking back at him was unrecognizable. He traced the delicate features with dainty fingers, longing to see his own reflection once more. "I'm scared," he whispered, terrified and shivering— “Oi’m bluddy scared!” The British accent that had overtaken his speech only served to heighten his panic. As he tried to say more, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the terror, he felt entirely lost in the alien body. Alone and frightened, all he could think of was finding his mommy amidst the chaos, and hoping, pleading, for a way out of this nightmare.
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