Title: "The Wilde Mirror"
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"Mom! We're in the middle of a match!" Tommy shouted from upstairs, the sound of game controllers clicking wildly in the background.
Jenny Wilde sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward, tossing the wooden spoon into the spaghetti sauce with a huff. Her signature green, low-cut blouse hugged her curves, while her mom jeans cinched at the waist, accommodating her generous hips. She was curvaceous and proud of it, but sometimes she felt like the only one with a sense of order in this household of wild Wilde kids.
"Bill!" she yelled to her husband, who was comfortably sunk into the couch, beers on the table and ESPN on TV. "Didn't you hear me? Dinner's ready!"
"Mhm!" Bill muttered absentmindedly, his eyes glued to the screen, one hand blindly reaching for the beer in an impressive display of mindless muscle memory.
"This is ridiculous," Jenny muttered to herself. “If only everyone in this family could be just like me…”
Suddenly, a bright flash enveloped the entire house. When Jenny blinked the spots away from her vision, she gasped. Her husband was no longer the man she had married. Instead, he was… another Jenny Wilde? He sat in the same spot, same low-cut green blouse, same mom jeans, beer comfortably wedged between his... her cleavage.
"Bill?" Jenny cautiously approached the mirror image of herself. "What the heck happened?"
Other Jenny raised an incredulous eyebrow. "What’s your problem? The game’s on!"
Jenny dashed upstairs, where the chaos unfolded as usual. Only this time, her three sons were indistinguishable clones of her—and in the exact same attire. They sat in a trio on the floor, wrestling, and making a general ruckus.
"OUCH, MOM! YOU PUNCHED MY BOOBS!" Tommy—no, Jesse—shouted.
"NOT YOUR BOOBS, MY BOOBS, CUZ TECHNICALLY THEY ARE STILL MOM'S BOOBS!" Bobby rebutted, smacking Jesse with his controller.
"BOYS! STOP IT!" Jenny bellowed, but they continued their three-way tangle of hair-pulling and… well, rather mild slapping, given the feel of the situation.
After acquiring control, or whatever passed as control nowadays, Jenny managed to herd her new “selfs” downstairs. They all still looked like her, down to the last freckle. Each of them shared the same full figure and cascaded hair, bobbing with her own particular annoyed expression.
And yet, head-scratching didn't deter the new Wilde family from their otherwise normal conversations.
"So, Mom—uh, me," clone Tommy started, violently flagging a meatball in mid-air. "Should I ask Cindy to the dance? She looked at my, uh, boobs today. Kinda feel exposed here, ya know?"
Meanwhile, clone Bill slurped some spaghetti, beer still lodged in cleavage like a determined, fermented nest.
Jenny Wilde buried her face in her hands. "No, Tommy, I mean, me, this is just... bonkers. Okay, let's all just eat dinner... and figure this out later."
Clone Jesse, now balancing extra portions of breadsticks, piped up. "You know, Mom, life's been kinda chill ever since we—uh, you multiplied."
Jenny glared daggers. "You think this is chill?! Look at yourselves! You're ME! HOW IS THAT NOT MIND-BLOWING?!"
Clone Bobby, brash as always, barked, "At least we didn't turn into Dad, right? Imagine plucking all those nose hairs?"
There was an oddly synchronized chuckle, echoing off the kitchen walls—an inescapable sound of multiple Jennies laughing in unison.
Jenny Wilde rubbed her temples and groaned, looking at her mirrored family. Dinner continued, conversation bounced and laughter burst forth, and no matter how she glanced at it, they'd embraced their new form just a little too well.
Finally resigning, Jenny murmured, barely audible amidst the wild chitchat and mom-ish commotion. “Next time, a little less exact clone and a little more peaceful obedience, please.”
As the family chattered on, their conversations barely differed from their previous lives, just a bit bosomer this time. Unexpectedly, the messiest dinner in history convened that night, but hey—at least they'd finally come to the table. Cloned chaos was better than solo sanity, right?
All Jenny Wilde could do was sigh, shovel more spaghetti onto her plate, and join in the madness of the mirror-filled Wilde family feast.
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: A story with lots of dialogue where a curvaceous and busty mother is angry that nobody in the house seems to listen to her. She rolls her eyes seeing her three sons play video games even though she called for dinner a half an hour ago. Her husband is watching ESPN on the tv. She sighs and wishes that her family could be like her. That's when everyone morphed into an exact clone of her. None of them saw the problem with it. Her husband now wearing her green low cut blouse had a beer between his cleavage and was still watching tv. Her three kids all dressed in the same green low cut blouse and mom jeans were pulling each others hair and punching each others boobs while playing some video games and rough housing upstairs. This isn't what she wanted was a family full of... well her. Finally everyone came down for dinner all clones of their curvy and busty mom and curvy and busty wife. They still are having their normal conversations about asking out girls and about work and how one girl at school at looked at their boobs. It was crazy.
Response: "Mom! We're in the middle of a match!" Tommy shouted from upstairs, the sound of game controllers clicking wildly in the background. Jenny Wilde sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward, tossing the wooden spoon into the spaghetti sauce with a huff. Her signature green, low-cut blouse hugged her curves, while her mom jeans cinched at the waist, accommodating her generous hips. She was curvaceous and proud of it, but sometimes she felt like the only one with a sense of order in this household of wild Wilde kids. "Bill!" she yelled to her husband, who was comfortably sunk into the couch, beers on the table and ESPN on TV. "Didn't you hear me? Dinner's ready!" "Mhm!" Bill muttered absentmindedly, his eyes glued to the screen, one hand blindly reaching for the beer in an impressive display of mindless muscle memory. "This is ridiculous," Jenny muttered to herself. “If only everyone in this family could be just like me…” Suddenly, a bright flash enveloped the entire house. When Jenny blinked the spots away from her vision, she gasped. Her husband was no longer the man she had married. Instead, he was… another Jenny Wilde? He sat in the same spot, same low-cut green blouse, same mom jeans, beer comfortably wedged between his... her cleavage. "Bill?" Jenny cautiously approached the mirror image of herself. "What the heck happened?" Other Jenny raised an incredulous eyebrow. "What’s your problem? The game’s on!" Jenny dashed upstairs, where the chaos unfolded as usual. Only this time, her three sons were indistinguishable clones of her—and in the exact same attire. They sat in a trio on the floor, wrestling, and making a general ruckus. "OUCH, MOM! YOU PUNCHED MY BOOBS!" Tommy—no, Jesse—shouted. "NOT YOUR BOOBS, MY BOOBS, CUZ TECHNICALLY THEY ARE STILL MOM'S BOOBS!" Bobby rebutted, smacking Jesse with his controller. "BOYS! STOP IT!" Jenny bellowed, but they continued their three-way tangle of hair-pulling and… well, rather mild slapping, given the feel of the situation. After acquiring control, or whatever passed as control nowadays, Jenny managed to herd her new “selfs” downstairs. They all still looked like her, down to the last freckle. Each of them shared the same full figure and cascaded hair, bobbing with her own particular annoyed expression. And yet, head-scratching didn't deter the new Wilde family from their otherwise normal conversations. "So, Mom—uh, me," clone Tommy started, violently flagging a meatball in mid-air. "Should I ask Cindy to the dance? She looked at my, uh, boobs today. Kinda feel exposed here, ya know?" Meanwhile, clone Bill slurped some spaghetti, beer still lodged in cleavage like a determined, fermented nest. Jenny Wilde buried her face in her hands. "No, Tommy, I mean, me, this is just... bonkers. Okay, let's all just eat dinner... and figure this out later." Clone Jesse, now balancing extra portions of breadsticks, piped up. "You know, Mom, life's been kinda chill ever since we—uh, you multiplied." Jenny glared daggers. "You think this is chill?! Look at yourselves! You're ME! HOW IS THAT NOT MIND-BLOWING?!" Clone Bobby, brash as always, barked, "At least we didn't turn into Dad, right? Imagine plucking all those nose hairs?" There was an oddly synchronized chuckle, echoing off the kitchen walls—an inescapable sound of multiple Jennies laughing in unison. Jenny Wilde rubbed her temples and groaned, looking at her mirrored family. Dinner continued, conversation bounced and laughter burst forth, and no matter how she glanced at it, they'd embraced their new form just a little too well. Finally resigning, Jenny murmured, barely audible amidst the wild chitchat and mom-ish commotion. “Next time, a little less exact clone and a little more peaceful obedience, please.” As the family chattered on, their conversations barely differed from their previous lives, just a bit bosomer this time. Unexpectedly, the messiest dinner in history convened that night, but hey—at least they'd finally come to the table. Cloned chaos was better than solo sanity, right? All Jenny Wilde could do was sigh, shovel more spaghetti onto her plate, and join in the madness of the mirror-filled Wilde family feast.
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