"The Great Shift: A Gender-Bending Guys' Trip Tale"
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You got it! Here’s your HUMOR story, heavy on the dialogue, with your buddy now “Jenna”—and you, let’s call you Mike.
---
Look, all I wanted out of the guys’ trip was a few beers, some epic Mario Kart, and maybe photos from the top of Mount Unnecessary Bravado. What I got was The Great Shift—capital “T,” capital “G,” capital “S.” You know, the worldwide phenomenon where half of humanity wakes up in someone else’s skin?
Let’s talk about how that can noodle up even the most basic of weekend plans.
“Dude, hurry up! The lighting’s perfect!” My best friend, now technically Jenna Turner, Instagram Star, was already posing on the sand, making her hair bounce for the camera.
I squinted into the Florida sunlight. “Bryan, do people really care that much about sand between their toes? Because if I get one more grain in my armpit, I’m starting a support group.”
Bryan (who, for the duration of The Great Shift, now went by ‘Jenna’ for branding purposes) tossed her head, sending perfect blonde waves over her—honestly, unfairly—toned shoulders. “Mike, art does not know discomfort! Back up, more angle!”
I backed up, phone ready, trying not to stare directly into the uncanny valley between my old, nerdy friend and the literal human thirst trap before me.
“Should I do, like, a fun in the sun thing?” Jenna/Bryan asked, mouthing a duckface then grinning. “Or go full hot-girl-at-the-beach? Maybe I’ll pretend to run?”
“Let’s just do the ‘you trying not to fall over in the sand in someone else’s feet,’” I muttered. “That’s authentic.”
She shot me a look over mirrored sunglasses. “No one follows ‘authentic’ on Instagram. Okay, I need a butt shot and a boob shot. Which first?”
I blinked. “Do people actually decide that? Isn’t it just… a picture?”
Bryan, still sounding unreasonably cheery for someone braving public in a string bikini for the first time, popped a hip to the left. “Mike. TikTok says that peak engagement happens when you alternate assets. Boob, butt, loop. If I get another ten thousand followers this week I get that protein shake sponsorship. The pink one.”
She whipped around and arched her back, hands on that impossible waist-to-hips ratio. “Okay, butt first. Do I flex, or no flex? I can feel actual jiggle now—dude, you know how weird it is to have your own ass smack against itself when you walk?”
I averted my gaze, feeling like a medieval monk thrust into a TikTok house.
“Shut up and do your TikTok glute routine,” I snarked, aiming the phone and snapping ten shots. “By the way, that’s not a normal amount of jiggle for someone with like zero percent body fat. Are you sure you’re not hiding extra tennis balls in there?”
“Jealous?” she shot back, wiggling for the camera. “This peach is, like, internet famous now, bro. You know how many fire emojis I get?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just be careful. If you get too many, you’ll set off a lifeguard alert. Can I get beers yet?”
“Wait! Do the close-up.” She squeezed her arms together. “And hurry, these things weigh a *ton.* Seriously, Mike. They’re like… bowling balls glued to my chest. I get it now—girls never run for fun. I nearly knocked myself out putting on sunscreen.”
I clicked a few more. “Okay, but you owe me Mario Kart tonight. I get Rainbow Road, loser takes the late-night selfie.”
Jenna grinned, bouncing over to grab her phone back. “Deal! But next time you take the thirst trap. My followers would love some ‘guys trip fails with surprise gender plot twist!’ They’re *living* for this.”
She scrolled through the shots, pausing to rate her own butt out loud. “Ten out of ten. Hanes should pay me. Also, these comments… Mike, someone just sent me a marriage proposal.” Pause. “Oh wait, it’s from that guy in Latvia again. Think I could get a sponsorship for goat cheese?”
I sighed and collapsed onto the towel. “Whatever floats your now-much-larger boat, Jen. Just give me a heads up if someone offers to fly us both to Ibiza.”
She beamed. “Only if you agree to be my photographer-slash-sidekick forever. C’mon, Mike, admit it—this is the weirdest guys’ trip we’ve ever not gone on.”
She wasn’t wrong. But on the plus side, I had a great new excuse to never wear a bikini myself.
---
And that’s how Bryan and I redefined “brotherhood.” One peach emoji at a time.
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: Me and my buddy were supposed to be going on a guys trip together. But of course the great shift which is a phenomena where 50 percent of the world swaps bodies came and changed all our plans. He swapped into the body of a hot influencer. Today when we were on the beach he kept asking me to take photos of him. He still posts to her social media accounts. However, even though he still posts thirst traps, most of his posts are about his life swapping with a babe after the great shift. His new followers seem to love him. Now he wants me to take photos for him and he asks me if he should take a boob or a butt shot first. He complains about the extra 10 pounds he is carrying up front on his chest and then jokes about having jiggle in his ass when he walks now while resting a hand on his tight but big booty Write the story with a ton of dialogue and good description and add character names. My friend is now an extremely thick and toned with a tones yet big ass and busty blonde influencer with a perfect body she's 22 years old
Response: You got it! Here’s your HUMOR story, heavy on the dialogue, with your buddy now “Jenna”—and you, let’s call you Mike. --- Look, all I wanted out of the guys’ trip was a few beers, some epic Mario Kart, and maybe photos from the top of Mount Unnecessary Bravado. What I got was The Great Shift—capital “T,” capital “G,” capital “S.” You know, the worldwide phenomenon where half of humanity wakes up in someone else’s skin? Let’s talk about how that can noodle up even the most basic of weekend plans. “Dude, hurry up! The lighting’s perfect!” My best friend, now technically Jenna Turner, Instagram Star, was already posing on the sand, making her hair bounce for the camera. I squinted into the Florida sunlight. “Bryan, do people really care that much about sand between their toes? Because if I get one more grain in my armpit, I’m starting a support group.” Bryan (who, for the duration of The Great Shift, now went by ‘Jenna’ for branding purposes) tossed her head, sending perfect blonde waves over her—honestly, unfairly—toned shoulders. “Mike, art does not know discomfort! Back up, more angle!” I backed up, phone ready, trying not to stare directly into the uncanny valley between my old, nerdy friend and the literal human thirst trap before me. “Should I do, like, a fun in the sun thing?” Jenna/Bryan asked, mouthing a duckface then grinning. “Or go full hot-girl-at-the-beach? Maybe I’ll pretend to run?” “Let’s just do the ‘you trying not to fall over in the sand in someone else’s feet,’” I muttered. “That’s authentic.” She shot me a look over mirrored sunglasses. “No one follows ‘authentic’ on Instagram. Okay, I need a butt shot and a boob shot. Which first?” I blinked. “Do people actually decide that? Isn’t it just… a picture?” Bryan, still sounding unreasonably cheery for someone braving public in a string bikini for the first time, popped a hip to the left. “Mike. TikTok says that peak engagement happens when you alternate assets. Boob, butt, loop. If I get another ten thousand followers this week I get that protein shake sponsorship. The pink one.” She whipped around and arched her back, hands on that impossible waist-to-hips ratio. “Okay, butt first. Do I flex, or no flex? I can feel actual jiggle now—dude, you know how weird it is to have your own ass smack against itself when you walk?” I averted my gaze, feeling like a medieval monk thrust into a TikTok house. “Shut up and do your TikTok glute routine,” I snarked, aiming the phone and snapping ten shots. “By the way, that’s not a normal amount of jiggle for someone with like zero percent body fat. Are you sure you’re not hiding extra tennis balls in there?” “Jealous?” she shot back, wiggling for the camera. “This peach is, like, internet famous now, bro. You know how many fire emojis I get?” I rolled my eyes. “Just be careful. If you get too many, you’ll set off a lifeguard alert. Can I get beers yet?” “Wait! Do the close-up.” She squeezed her arms together. “And hurry, these things weigh a *ton.* Seriously, Mike. They’re like… bowling balls glued to my chest. I get it now—girls never run for fun. I nearly knocked myself out putting on sunscreen.” I clicked a few more. “Okay, but you owe me Mario Kart tonight. I get Rainbow Road, loser takes the late-night selfie.” Jenna grinned, bouncing over to grab her phone back. “Deal! But next time you take the thirst trap. My followers would love some ‘guys trip fails with surprise gender plot twist!’ They’re *living* for this.” She scrolled through the shots, pausing to rate her own butt out loud. “Ten out of ten. Hanes should pay me. Also, these comments… Mike, someone just sent me a marriage proposal.” Pause. “Oh wait, it’s from that guy in Latvia again. Think I could get a sponsorship for goat cheese?” I sighed and collapsed onto the towel. “Whatever floats your now-much-larger boat, Jen. Just give me a heads up if someone offers to fly us both to Ibiza.” She beamed. “Only if you agree to be my photographer-slash-sidekick forever. C’mon, Mike, admit it—this is the weirdest guys’ trip we’ve ever not gone on.” She wasn’t wrong. But on the plus side, I had a great new excuse to never wear a bikini myself. --- And that’s how Bryan and I redefined “brotherhood.” One peach emoji at a time.
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