"Reality Rewritten: A Body-Swapping Summer Afternoon"
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At the edge of the pool, sunlight flickered in sharp, brilliant patterns, bouncing off the blue tile where my friend Matt and I lounged. It had started as just another lazy afternoon, towel and music, but my mind itched with excitement: the strange, chunky remote control buried in my bag could change everything. A “reality” remote, the instructions had promised—apparently able to swap bodies and traits between people, rewriting reality so no one even noticed.
I’d slipped it out, its black plastic cool and promising in my hand. Matt, sunbleached and sprawled, jabbed me with his elbow.
“Dude, you coming in? This water is perfect.”
I hesitated, thumb tracing the weird infinity-shaped button. My eyes flicked over to the woman at the far end of the pool—she stood easily half a dozen years older than us, auburn hair caught up in a thick bun, curves poured into a neon floral top, bikini bottoms high-cut over a tight, peachy ass. She was laughing at something her friends said, head tipped back to show a stretch of smooth, freckled throat.
Testing, I told myself, not quite believing I’d really do it—but then I pressed. A faint chime only I heard.
For half a second, it was like nothing happened. Then Matt was stepping up from the water, only—he wasn’t Matt anymore. That round, heart-shaped face. Those thick, shining red locks. His shoulders now gently sloped, skin dotted with sun-kissed freckles, breasts nothing short of jaw-dropping rising above a field of busy floral fabric, the neon bikini bottom hugging a waist and hips that demanded a second look.
I gawked. Matt, or whoever he was now, dropped onto the lounge chair next to me, towel tossed absently over those legs.
He looked down at himself, twisting, and smirked.
“Bro, I think I pulled something doing that cannonball. My chest is killing me.” He bounced a little, chest swelling distractingly. “Literally, what the hell?”
His voice was still Matt’s, rough, midway through a joke—but the sight and sound clashed in my brain. My eyes flicked to the woman from earlier—the spot by the pool was empty. A shiver ran down my back.
“You, uh…” I cleared my throat. “Feel alright?”
He propped his arms behind his head, hair falling over one eye. “I dunno, I feel good. Great even. Your turn in the water yet, or are you just planning to ogle me some more, big guy?”
We both cracked up, but a weird itch sparked behind my eyes. No one stared. Nobody freaked out. To everyone else, this body was Matt’s.
He peeled a phone from his bag—floral case, of course—and scrolled his camera roll. I leaned over. Every photo… was him. Same heartstopping curve, same fire-bright hair, same sly grin. Prom night, Vegas trip, last week’s hike, his graduation. Always the busty, leggy redhead pulling faces at the camera, always with me at her side, arms slung over a rounded shoulder.
I nudged him, mind spinning. “Matt, is this how you, uh, always look?”
He raised a lacquered eyebrow. “What kind of question is that, weirdo?” He snorted, but then paused, holding the phone up so pink nails caught the sun. “I mean, I’m obviously a stone-cold fox, right? Not my fault if you can’t handle it.”
The world didn’t blink. Not a wrinkle in history. Matt tossed back a laugh, then stretched, the impossible curves shifting. I gripped the remote in my bag, possibilities spiraling.
“Come on,” Matt said, winking. “Last one in’s buying lunch. Loser has to carry my sunscreen. And you know,” another bounce, and he padded toward the water in a way I’d never forget, “that’s a lot of surface area to cover.”
I bit my tongue on a dozen questions, heart thumping with barely-checked awe. Around us, the afternoon spun on—the future wide open, and the remote warm in my pocket.
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 where I find a reality remote, it is a remote that can swap traits and bodies between people without them realizing it, they will believe the always looked like they do now. I knew I had to test it on somebody, So I tested it on my friend while we were at the pool. I swapped him with a busty and hot redheaded MILF with a round but sexy ass wearing a bright floral swim top showing a mountain of cleavage and yellow bikini bottoms that show off his peachy backside. He goes to lay down on a beach chair but he still acts and talks like a 22 year old guy. Maybe history has changed too so he has always had this body and maybe we go through some photos to show this. Use good dialogue and use good description that is thorough and descriptive
Response: At the edge of the pool, sunlight flickered in sharp, brilliant patterns, bouncing off the blue tile where my friend Matt and I lounged. It had started as just another lazy afternoon, towel and music, but my mind itched with excitement: the strange, chunky remote control buried in my bag could change everything. A “reality” remote, the instructions had promised—apparently able to swap bodies and traits between people, rewriting reality so no one even noticed. I’d slipped it out, its black plastic cool and promising in my hand. Matt, sunbleached and sprawled, jabbed me with his elbow. “Dude, you coming in? This water is perfect.” I hesitated, thumb tracing the weird infinity-shaped button. My eyes flicked over to the woman at the far end of the pool—she stood easily half a dozen years older than us, auburn hair caught up in a thick bun, curves poured into a neon floral top, bikini bottoms high-cut over a tight, peachy ass. She was laughing at something her friends said, head tipped back to show a stretch of smooth, freckled throat. Testing, I told myself, not quite believing I’d really do it—but then I pressed. A faint chime only I heard. For half a second, it was like nothing happened. Then Matt was stepping up from the water, only—he wasn’t Matt anymore. That round, heart-shaped face. Those thick, shining red locks. His shoulders now gently sloped, skin dotted with sun-kissed freckles, breasts nothing short of jaw-dropping rising above a field of busy floral fabric, the neon bikini bottom hugging a waist and hips that demanded a second look. I gawked. Matt, or whoever he was now, dropped onto the lounge chair next to me, towel tossed absently over those legs. He looked down at himself, twisting, and smirked. “Bro, I think I pulled something doing that cannonball. My chest is killing me.” He bounced a little, chest swelling distractingly. “Literally, what the hell?” His voice was still Matt’s, rough, midway through a joke—but the sight and sound clashed in my brain. My eyes flicked to the woman from earlier—the spot by the pool was empty. A shiver ran down my back. “You, uh…” I cleared my throat. “Feel alright?” He propped his arms behind his head, hair falling over one eye. “I dunno, I feel good. Great even. Your turn in the water yet, or are you just planning to ogle me some more, big guy?” We both cracked up, but a weird itch sparked behind my eyes. No one stared. Nobody freaked out. To everyone else, this body was Matt’s. He peeled a phone from his bag—floral case, of course—and scrolled his camera roll. I leaned over. Every photo… was him. Same heartstopping curve, same fire-bright hair, same sly grin. Prom night, Vegas trip, last week’s hike, his graduation. Always the busty, leggy redhead pulling faces at the camera, always with me at her side, arms slung over a rounded shoulder. I nudged him, mind spinning. “Matt, is this how you, uh, always look?” He raised a lacquered eyebrow. “What kind of question is that, weirdo?” He snorted, but then paused, holding the phone up so pink nails caught the sun. “I mean, I’m obviously a stone-cold fox, right? Not my fault if you can’t handle it.” The world didn’t blink. Not a wrinkle in history. Matt tossed back a laugh, then stretched, the impossible curves shifting. I gripped the remote in my bag, possibilities spiraling. “Come on,” Matt said, winking. “Last one in’s buying lunch. Loser has to carry my sunscreen. And you know,” another bounce, and he padded toward the water in a way I’d never forget, “that’s a lot of surface area to cover.” I bit my tongue on a dozen questions, heart thumping with barely-checked awe. Around us, the afternoon spun on—the future wide open, and the remote warm in my pocket.
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