"Identity Exchange"
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Lily Smith, now inhabiting the body of 45-year-old Richard Johnson, slumped on the toilet lid with a sense of profound helplessness. The bathroom in the Johnson household seemed especially cold and uninviting today. As she stared at the unfamiliar reflection of Richard's weathered face in the mirror, tears welled up in her—no, his—eyes again. The once comforting act of thumb-sucking now seemed ridiculous and far removed from her current reality, yet her mind and body craved that forgotten solace. She felt a fresh set of tears stream down Richard’s unshaven cheeks.
In the adjacent room, Max Smith, inside the body of 43-year-old Patricia Johnson, experienced his own spiral of anxiety. The underwire from Patricia’s bra dug uncomfortably into his ribs as he sat uneasily on the edge of the bed, frustrated beyond belief. He stared at the myriad of makeup products meticulously arranged on the vanity, eyes wide with resignation.
"Stupid makeup," Max mumbled. "I was better off without it anyway."
He huffed and stomped into the kitchen. The familiar taste of sugary cereal was his last tether to a world where he was just a carefree 7-year-old boy.
In the hallway, Lily quieted her sobs as she gingerly adjusted herself. She had a vague recollection of how men might relieve themselves from a TV show, but trying to follow that seemed wrong. She grimaced, finally resorting to sitting down on the toilet. Standing up, she felt absurdly proud for conquering this small ordeal, even if by the simplest means. Occasional thumb-sucking during reflection soon gave way to the resolve to face her new day.
---
At the dining table, Max shoveled spoonfuls of cereal into his pouting mouth. He kept looking over at the clock, wondering when Lily—no, Mr. Johnson—would come down and take control of this mess.
Lily, now somewhat composed, descended the stairs. She hesitated at the kitchen threshold, awkwardly clearing her throat.
"Max... uh..." She struggled to keep Richard’s baritone voice calm. "Good morning."
Max looked up, his eyes wide with relief mixed with the confusion of seeing his sister in such a form.
"Lily! I—I don't know what to do! Look at me!"
"Shh, Max," Lily hushed him, kneeling beside her brother in her husband's frame. "Let's... let's just try to pretend as best as we can, okay? It’s going to be okay."
"But nothing fits!" Max wailed. "And I don’t know how to be Mom—or Mrs. Johnson!"
Lily nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. "First, we need to get through today. We’ll, uh, figure things out together. You’re smart, Max."
Max looked down at the table, nodding but still clearly disheartened. "Alright… If you say so."
Lily straightened slowly. "I need to go to work, Max. That's what Mr. Johnson does, right? Do you remember?"
Max puffed up with a hint of newfound resolve. "Yeah, I think he’s got papers and stuff in his briefcase. Work papers. Accounting… or something."
"Alright. I'll need to help you look, uh, proper," she added tentatively.
Lily had only seen her mother—Mrs. Johnson, now—apply makeup once in a while. She guessed and mimicked the actions as best she could, hesitating as her fingers shakily traced Max’s—Patricia’s—features. Max scrunched his nose but didn’t flinch.
"Good?" Max asked.
"Good enough," Lily responded. "Now let’s get you dressed, something comfortable.”
After a few attempts, Max settled on a pair of stretch pants and a loose blouse, the most boyish attire they could find from Patricia’s closet. Although mismatched, it was the best they could do for that morning’s absurdity.
They finally stood side-by-side at the door, a mismatched duo.
"Be brave, Max. We’ve got each other and we’ll make it work," Lily said, trying to sound confident.
Max managed a faint smile. "You too, Lil.”
With that, Lily grabbed the briefcase and walked out the door. The day's challenges seemed insurmountable, yet there was an odd sense of solidarity between the siblings, no matter how mixed their identities had become.
This story was generated by user docjr1 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: Continue writing the story, in great detail, with dialogue, of the Johnson and Smith families that have been the victims of Dr. Wappinger's body swapping experiments which traded the bodies. Begin with 9 year-old Lily Smith, in the body of 45 year-old Richard Johnson, must lead the household by returning to his job, which she has absolutely no idea how to do and now lacks the experience and knowledge to do. Lily needs to relieve herself, but given her new male genitalia, she's unsure how to use it, so she sits. Lily, in Richard’s body, breaks down and return to her go to attitude of crying and sucking her thumb when she becomes upset, begins acting like the 9 year-old girl that mentally she is. Meanwhile, Lily's younger brother, 7 year-old Max Smith, in the body of 43 year-old Patricia Johnson, must run the household as wife and mother, but is completely out of his element from the moment he wakes up. Like his older sister, Max, in Patricia Johnson's body, needs to relieve himself, but having an adult woman's genitalia, is unsure how to use it, eventually choosing to sit on the toilet to go. Disgusted, he wipes himself dry, then leaves the bathroom. He begins having trouble getting himself dressed, not being able to figure out how to put on his bra, which clothes to wear, as he refuses to wear a dress and cannot find anything in Patricia’s wardrobe that he wants to wear, and is completely clueless, as he tries and fails to apply Patricia’s makeup. Giving up, Max, in Patricia's body, goes to the kitchen for some breakfast and rather than eating like an adult female, chooses some sugary cereal, as he waits for his sister, now in the body of his husband, Richard Johnson's body, to join him.
Response: Lily Smith, now inhabiting the body of 45-year-old Richard Johnson, slumped on the toilet lid with a sense of profound helplessness. The bathroom in the Johnson household seemed especially cold and uninviting today. As she stared at the unfamiliar reflection of Richard's weathered face in the mirror, tears welled up in her—no, his—eyes again. The once comforting act of thumb-sucking now seemed ridiculous and far removed from her current reality, yet her mind and body craved that forgotten solace. She felt a fresh set of tears stream down Richard’s unshaven cheeks. In the adjacent room, Max Smith, inside the body of 43-year-old Patricia Johnson, experienced his own spiral of anxiety. The underwire from Patricia’s bra dug uncomfortably into his ribs as he sat uneasily on the edge of the bed, frustrated beyond belief. He stared at the myriad of makeup products meticulously arranged on the vanity, eyes wide with resignation. "Stupid makeup," Max mumbled. "I was better off without it anyway." He huffed and stomped into the kitchen. The familiar taste of sugary cereal was his last tether to a world where he was just a carefree 7-year-old boy. In the hallway, Lily quieted her sobs as she gingerly adjusted herself. She had a vague recollection of how men might relieve themselves from a TV show, but trying to follow that seemed wrong. She grimaced, finally resorting to sitting down on the toilet. Standing up, she felt absurdly proud for conquering this small ordeal, even if by the simplest means. Occasional thumb-sucking during reflection soon gave way to the resolve to face her new day. --- At the dining table, Max shoveled spoonfuls of cereal into his pouting mouth. He kept looking over at the clock, wondering when Lily—no, Mr. Johnson—would come down and take control of this mess. Lily, now somewhat composed, descended the stairs. She hesitated at the kitchen threshold, awkwardly clearing her throat. "Max... uh..." She struggled to keep Richard’s baritone voice calm. "Good morning." Max looked up, his eyes wide with relief mixed with the confusion of seeing his sister in such a form. "Lily! I—I don't know what to do! Look at me!" "Shh, Max," Lily hushed him, kneeling beside her brother in her husband's frame. "Let's... let's just try to pretend as best as we can, okay? It’s going to be okay." "But nothing fits!" Max wailed. "And I don’t know how to be Mom—or Mrs. Johnson!" Lily nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. "First, we need to get through today. We’ll, uh, figure things out together. You’re smart, Max." Max looked down at the table, nodding but still clearly disheartened. "Alright… If you say so." Lily straightened slowly. "I need to go to work, Max. That's what Mr. Johnson does, right? Do you remember?" Max puffed up with a hint of newfound resolve. "Yeah, I think he’s got papers and stuff in his briefcase. Work papers. Accounting… or something." "Alright. I'll need to help you look, uh, proper," she added tentatively. Lily had only seen her mother—Mrs. Johnson, now—apply makeup once in a while. She guessed and mimicked the actions as best she could, hesitating as her fingers shakily traced Max’s—Patricia’s—features. Max scrunched his nose but didn’t flinch. "Good?" Max asked. "Good enough," Lily responded. "Now let’s get you dressed, something comfortable.” After a few attempts, Max settled on a pair of stretch pants and a loose blouse, the most boyish attire they could find from Patricia’s closet. Although mismatched, it was the best they could do for that morning’s absurdity. They finally stood side-by-side at the door, a mismatched duo. "Be brave, Max. We’ve got each other and we’ll make it work," Lily said, trying to sound confident. Max managed a faint smile. "You too, Lil.” With that, Lily grabbed the briefcase and walked out the door. The day's challenges seemed insurmountable, yet there was an odd sense of solidarity between the siblings, no matter how mixed their identities had become.
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