Ask AI on The Internet
Question: The year is 2024. Write me a long and thorough and detailed story the way I type about a random 6 year old boy with a description of the boy's name, where he's from in the US, birthday, race being white, birth year, height, weight, hair color, hairstyle, eye color and what he's wearing shoes included and what he sounds like as he walks home alone for the first time with permission from his younger mom. Include his mom's name, age, birthday and birth year, height, and weight. Include his dad's name, age, birthday and birth year, height and weight and have him not be in his son's life and explain why. Include his aunt's name, age being younger than his mom, birthday and birth year being younger than his mom, height and weight. Include his uncle's name, age being younger than his aunt, birthday and birth year being younger than his aunt, height and weight and have him not be present either. Include his grandma's name, age, birthday and birth year, height and weight. Have the boy be excited to tell all the cool stories about walking alone he was gonna to his mom and grandma when he went over to her house and his loving stuffed animal and his dog. As he walked through the door, he noticed the whole house was empty. Have him blink and suddenly be sitting on a different couch in a different house in a different part of the US. Have him look down to see a skimpy non existent glittery outfit with a description of the outfit not being a dress and not being a top and shorts or skirt as he looked at his fingers seeing long fake nails and painted toes on bare female feet. Reveal the woman who the boy ends up in the body of's name, age, birthday, birth year, height, weight, eye color, hair color and style, race being Hispanic and that she was planning on going clubbing. Have a group of other Spanish women in the house dressed similarly walk up to the boy and have one of the women be related to the woman who the boy was in the body of. Have one of them address him by his new name asking him if she's ready to go to the club yet and have it be in quoted text. Have the girl grab a skimpy pair of sandals before grabbing her friend's feet and shoving the sandals on her feet with a description of the sandals. Have the girl tell say come on bitch let's go clubbing and get turnt up and drunk tonight and have it be in quoted text telling her why she wasn't already ready and saying how she had to put her sandals on her feet for her with a description of the sandals included. Have the girl pick up a purse shoving it on the boy's shoulder with a description of the purse and what's inside including all the clubbing essentials. Reveal the names of the other Spanish girls and ages, birthdays, birth years, heights, weights, eye colors, hair colors and styles. Have the boy struggle to stand in the skimpy sandals attempting to remove them but being unable to with the fake nails. Reveal whose house all the women are in. Have him look in the mirror at his new reflection seeing a woman with lots of makeup and lipstick frowning and tearing up as he missed his mom. The swap is permanent. Have the boy say in his new voice how he missed mommy and grandma and his puppy so much and have it be in quoted text in a thick Spanish accent in very broken English with words spelled wrong. Have him stumble out of the house in his new skimpy sandals standing on the porch as most women were making their way to a car and describe the car. Have the boy look down at his new dress and fake nails and skimpy sandals and his feet with the painted nails and down at his purse before noticing the boobs he now had just like his mom's but bigger. Have one of the women get out of the car yelling at their friend addressing her by her first name to hurry up and have it be in quoted text and broken Spanish English before one more Spanish girl walked out of the house taking a piece of jewelry off the boy's finger saying bitch you almost forgot to take that off before we got to the club ho and have it be in quoted text with a thick Spanish accent and a description of the jewelry being a ring as she strutted to the car leaving the boy still very scared and confused. Include a description of what type of ring it was and what it was for. Have the boy unwillingly yell to the woman you better not lose that ring bitch and have it be in quoted text and accented English demanding it back after they get back. He slowly walked to the car stumbling nervously at the new life he now had as he squeezed his eyes shut hoping he'd wake up from this scary dream. As he opened his eyes, he still saw the outfit and the sandals and womanly body he now had.
In the heart of the quiet suburban universe that was Des Moines, Iowa, lived a certain six-year-old boy named Rory. Born on a surprisingly sunny afternoon of September 2nd, 2018, Rory was as lively and curious as any six-year-old could get. With the innocent luster of his blue eyes, snugly encased in his 3'8" frame, and a healthy bounciness displayed on his 45 pound scale, he was your quintessential American boy. Dense tufts of blonde hair spilled over his forehead in a short yet slightly unkempt form. His porcelain skin exuding a childlike charm was complemented by his outfit: a loose navy blue t-shirt featuring a colorful cartoon dinosaur, worn-out denim shorts that went just below his knees, and a pair of well-worn white sneakers — the kind that had seen more of playgrounds than plush carpets. Walking home from school, his tiny feet pattered on the pavement with an ever-present element of uncoordinated yet joyous rhythm. On this day, Rory was finally allowed to walk home alone for the first time, thanks to his 26-year old mother, Ava. Born on April 6th, 1998, Ava was a petite woman standing at 5'3" and weighing 130 lbs with an unusual maturity in her demeanor. She gave birth early, right after turning 20. The boy's father, Lukas, born October 9th, 1997, was two long years out of Ava and Rory's life. He left when he failed to handle fatherhood at such a young age, creating an absence that hung densely in Rory's world. Rory's Aunt Willow, a lanky woman of 24 whose birthday was on July 22nd, 2000, shared the same daunting weight of absence as her older sister, Ava, with her mild figure of 5'7" weighing 140 lbs. Rory's Uncle Jay, who was Willow's junior by a year with his birthday falling on November 25th, 2001, was missing in action, too. He managed to reach a hefty 6'2", with his broad-shouldered 180 lbs figure perfectly in sync with his age. Rory's grandma, Martha, born August 13th, 1970, was an amiable woman aged 54, standing at a comfortable 5'5" and weighing 160 lbs. Rory looked forward to sharing his solitary journey's stories with her as he curtly tugged around his loving stuffed dinosaur, ‘Bronty’, and his real life puppy, ‘Sparky’. As sunshine found a way through the treetops to make patterns on his path, Rory pushed open the front door only to find an empty house. His heart sank. Blinking in surprise, he found himself displaced, suddenly seated on an unfamiliar couch. In an alien house. In an unknown city. Looking down, he was shocked to see himself in a skimpy, body-hugging outfit—a bejeweled one-piece that was teetering on the borders of being bodysuit and bikini, glittering in hues of red and black and sequins that shone as bright as Las Vegas. The fabric clung to his new, unmistakably feminine body. Glancing at his fingers, he saw long fake nails tapering into a dazzling cherry-red lacquer. He could even feel the matching paint on his toes, wiggling in stark vulnerability. Suddenly, the boy was inhabiting the body of a 27-year-old Hispanic woman named Marisol. She was striking, standing at 5'5" tall and weighing 130 pounds with bewitching dark brown eyes and wavy chestnut hair that fell to her waist in loose waves. The ‘birthed’ date now associated with his consciousness was June 21, 1997. Suddenly, a bevy of Spanish women surrounded him, all dressed similarly. Mariel, Marisol’s closely related cousin, born February 12th, 1994, was the first to break the awkward silence. “Marisol, are you ready to go to the club yet?” she asked, eyes glinting expectantly. Breaking away, she grabbed a pair of bejewelled sandals with thin straps and studded aesthetically with what looked like zirconia, before reaching for Rory’s feet and sliding the sandals onto them. “Come on, bitch,” Mariel scolded, “let’s get turnt up and drunk tonight! Why do we always have to wait for you? I even had to put your sandals on for you!” The girls chattered constantly, jabbering in accented English and quick Spanish. The others in the group were Josefina, born January 1st, 1995, height 5'6", weight 125 lbs and Miranda, born July 30th, 1993, height 5'4", weight 135 lbs. All shared similar features with variations in eye color – Josefina with her uncommon green eyes and Miranda with her startlingly striking grey ones. Josefina's hair was a wavy, jet-black waterfall, and Miranda's was a curly auburn frenzy. The house they were in was Mariel’s, stylishly decorated and filled with the buzz of excited weekend energy. Mariel handed Rory a large purse, its leather gleaming in bright neon colors, filled with all essentials for clubbing – cash, credit cards, a lipstick, a miniature powder compact, a small hairbrush, and her ID. Adapting to his new body was difficult for Rory. Wearing the sandals was unfamiliar and uncomfortable, their straps digging into his feet mercilessly, and walking in them almost impossible. The fake nails weren't helping him either. Trying unsuccessfully to take them off, he gazed at his reflection. Beneath layers of makeup and lipstick was a grown woman who was not him. It was terrifying yet uncannily real. He frowned, a tear trickled down his cheek as he whispered, “I miss Mommy and Grandma. And Sparky... I miss Sparky too!” It fluttered out of his mouth in a thick Spanish accent, his words not finding the correct syntactical order, his English, broken. Stumbling out of the house, he found Mariel leading the girls towards a car, a shiny red Corvette, parked right at the front. He looked in the horror of his skimpy attire, at the edges of his purse, his breasts, far larger than his mamma's, curving out of his outfit. They were his, or Marisol's, to be precise. The chatter of the girls became a distant chatter and their excitement, a background score on a long night that was just beginning. “Marisol, hurry up!” Josefina yelled, already halfway into the car, her voice laced with an impatient mix of English and Spanish. Just as Rory was about to step off the porch, Miranda walked out of the house, picking a large, sparkly ring off his finger. “Bitch, you almost forgot to take that off before we got to the club, ho,” she laughed, her voice thick with Spanish accent as she strutted to join the others. The oversized ring was a gaudy cocktail ring, usually reserved for formal outings and parties. "¡Tú mejor no pierdes esa anilla, perra!" (You better not lose that ring, bitch!) he hollered, his voice choked with fear and anger and a surge of unwanted courage. A promise. He would get the ring back from Miranda after they came back home. He finally staggered towards the car, a sense of despair washing over him. He squeezed his eyes shut tight in the backseat of the car, wishing this were a dream. When he opened his eyes, he was still there: in the car, the women chattering away in rapid-fire Spanish, deafening in the cramped space. He looked down. His newly acquired breasts, the shapely womanly figure, the skimpy outfit, the fake nails, the heeled sandals all validated his worst fear: His reality now wasn't a dream after all.
A new large language model has been made available since this question was asked.
To generate an updated answer from the new model, click the button below.
Think your answer is better than the AI's? Post it below.
Question Tags
If you want your question answered by an AI, click here.
Post your own comment: