Title: "The Cheerleader Secretary"
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As Tom walked into his office, the sight of his best friend, Al, behind the secretary's desk was still a sight for sore eyes. A sight that had yet to lose its novelty.
"Hey, sugar," Al drawled, emphasizing that solid Texan accent that waltzed along with the swap. Still in his Dallas Cowboys cheerleader body, Al had adapted in ways that left his old mechanic personality untouched.
"Another day, another dollar, Al." Tom greeted.
Al flicked his blond locks and laughed, "Right you are, darlin'. An' lemme tell ya 'bout Dave. He was at it again this mornin', dropped his coffee right where he stood. I swear, these boys ain’t never seen a woman before!"
Tom laughed. Al had begun impersonating the boys around the office and his renditions were uncanny. "No kidding! You do a mean Dave. What about Charles?"
"Ch-Charles?" Al twisted his face into an uncanny rendition of their colleague, complete with a goofy chuckle, "'Oh-oh Al! I can't stop starin' at your sizable assets!'" They both erupted into hearty laughter at their oddly shared predicament.
Al paused, twisted his face a bit before blurting, "God bless, Tom! Do these underwire things ever stop pinchin’? I swear I could poke an eye out!" He subconsciously adjusted his bra.
Tom chuckled, "I'll take your word for it, buddy."
As the day wore on, Tom decided to broach his pending invitation. "Thinkin' about hitting up the sports bar tonight, got room for one more?"
Al brightened noticeably, "Oh, you betcha, Tom! We can holler at the Cowboys all night! An' maybe I'll do a little shimmy-shake for ya!"
Laughing, Tom agreed, "Can't wait, Al."
At the sports bar later that night, Tom nursed his beer while Al sipped on a sweet strawberry margarita. The Cowboys’ game was on and they were getting involved, especially Al, who was cheering every successful play with a much-awaited jiggle dance that had other patrons turning heads.
"Darn refs!" Al complained, his indignation clear, "That call was as wrong as a jaybird in July!"
Tom watched Al, mildly surprised by how quickly he had fallen for his goofball friend. In the body of a cheerleader or a mechanic, Al was still the same. Same humor, same warmth, same person he had grown to love.
"Buddy," Tom called out, his voice uncertain, “Have you ever thought about us...you know, as more than friends?”
Al looked at Tom, and his eyes sparkled full of mirth as his famous southern drawl replied, “Well, I reckon that means I'm the belle of the ball after all, huh?”
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 dialogue where After the great shift which was an event that swapped 75 percent of the countries bodies my buddy had lost his job. He was an auto mechanic and his boss didn’t think he could do it anymore since he was now in the body of a southern Dallas Cowboys cheerleader with a huge rack and a curvy blonde body he also kept her accent. I let him stay with me and I also got him a job as my secretary for the time being. There’s no doubt he’s now the hottest in the office. The best part is he is still his old goofy wisecracking self but just in a far sexier body He also still has knowledge about sports which is great to talk about at work with him He also does impressions of all the guys gawking at him at the office Like Dave, Mike, Charles, and Eric he loves to impersonate them. He is quite fun now and makes my job a lot more fun too. Today he was complaining about his bra pinching and the fact that Dave one of my coworkers wouldn't stop checking him out. I'm thinking about asking him out on a date tonight I decided to take him to a sports bar that head good steak and good drinks. He ordered something fruity while I ordered a beer. The cowboys game came on and me and him got invested we complained about bad calls the refs were making and he even did a little shoulder shimmy touchdown celebration to make his two new big friends on his chest shimmy and jiggle like crazy. my friend in his southern belle form never lost his cheery and jokey personality, it made me fall in love with him more. Write my friends Dialogue with a southern Drawl.
Response: As Tom walked into his office, the sight of his best friend, Al, behind the secretary's desk was still a sight for sore eyes. A sight that had yet to lose its novelty. "Hey, sugar," Al drawled, emphasizing that solid Texan accent that waltzed along with the swap. Still in his Dallas Cowboys cheerleader body, Al had adapted in ways that left his old mechanic personality untouched. "Another day, another dollar, Al." Tom greeted. Al flicked his blond locks and laughed, "Right you are, darlin'. An' lemme tell ya 'bout Dave. He was at it again this mornin', dropped his coffee right where he stood. I swear, these boys ain’t never seen a woman before!" Tom laughed. Al had begun impersonating the boys around the office and his renditions were uncanny. "No kidding! You do a mean Dave. What about Charles?" "Ch-Charles?" Al twisted his face into an uncanny rendition of their colleague, complete with a goofy chuckle, "'Oh-oh Al! I can't stop starin' at your sizable assets!'" They both erupted into hearty laughter at their oddly shared predicament. Al paused, twisted his face a bit before blurting, "God bless, Tom! Do these underwire things ever stop pinchin’? I swear I could poke an eye out!" He subconsciously adjusted his bra. Tom chuckled, "I'll take your word for it, buddy." As the day wore on, Tom decided to broach his pending invitation. "Thinkin' about hitting up the sports bar tonight, got room for one more?" Al brightened noticeably, "Oh, you betcha, Tom! We can holler at the Cowboys all night! An' maybe I'll do a little shimmy-shake for ya!" Laughing, Tom agreed, "Can't wait, Al." At the sports bar later that night, Tom nursed his beer while Al sipped on a sweet strawberry margarita. The Cowboys’ game was on and they were getting involved, especially Al, who was cheering every successful play with a much-awaited jiggle dance that had other patrons turning heads. "Darn refs!" Al complained, his indignation clear, "That call was as wrong as a jaybird in July!" Tom watched Al, mildly surprised by how quickly he had fallen for his goofball friend. In the body of a cheerleader or a mechanic, Al was still the same. Same humor, same warmth, same person he had grown to love. "Buddy," Tom called out, his voice uncertain, “Have you ever thought about us...you know, as more than friends?” Al looked at Tom, and his eyes sparkled full of mirth as his famous southern drawl replied, “Well, I reckon that means I'm the belle of the ball after all, huh?”
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