The Great Shift: Brothers in Disguise
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As the sun began to set over Maplewood Park, the baseball field glowed in the soft hues of orange and pink. I zipped up my bag and looked over at my brother—no, my mother?—no, Michael. Even now, six months after the great shift, it was still hard to see Mike in Mom’s body and not burst out laughing. We were practicing before his first co-ed league game, the only one between us still nursing the dream of making it big despite everything.
"Hey, you ready for some catch?" I asked, tossing the ball up in the air and catching it.
"Yeah, yeah, let’s do this," Michael responded, adjusting the baseball cap to sit right on Mom's head. The dusty navy blue jersey looked out of place, stretched across Mom’s normally elegant frame.
We got in our usual positions, ten feet apart, and started tossing the ball back and forth. Michael caught my throw with a grunt and then laughed. “These things are really making it tough," he said, pointing at Mom's chest.
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah man, I know it’s funny, but you’re still slinging it better than I ever could."
We kept at it, my brother occasionally pausing to adjust Mom's baseball glove and curse under his breath. Despite everything, he hadn't lost his skill. Each throw was as precise and strong as it used to be.
"Think your friends will go easy on you today?" I smirked as I tossed the ball again.
Michael paused, tucking a strand of Mom's hair behind his ear. "Ha, doubtful. They’re a bunch of jokers, but it’s all in good fun. Speaking of which, how does Mom live with these nails? They’re killing my grip!"
"Guess you'll have to ask her once she’s back home from gym class. How's training been going anyway?" I said with a flick of my wrist, aiming the ball low.
Michael squatted and scooped it up, using the opportunity to stretch Mom’s hamstrings. "Well, I’m not breaking any records, but Mom’s body is holding up surprisingly well. Did you know she could touch her toes
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 with a lot of dialogue where Me and my brother loved baseball. We both played together growing up. We was a far better player than me and he was probably going to get drafted to the pros after college. That was before the great shift which was an occurrence that swapped 50 percent of thew populations bodies came and swapped him into our mother’s curvy and busty body. Obviously he was pretty bummed out at first, especially when we first decided to play a game of catch he had a hard time throwing with his new boobs in the way he always complained about moms french tipped nails throwing off his grip too. but my brother has always taken things in stride. He decided to workout mom’s body and get her ready for Coed baseball season where he played with some of his friends from high school they liked to tease him and make nicknames about his new body but he was having fun and still was the best player in the team even with the two large hindrances on his chest. One time he even got it by a pitch on the boob which caused me and all his buddies to laugh or that other time he went for a diving catch and the ball landed in his mountainous cleavage, hey still counts as an out right even if you catch it with your boobs. I didn’t know mom was in such good shape. He did struggle to adjust to moms new breasts but over time he grow to get used to them but his usual Bulldogs font across his jersey was warped by moms chestiness. He also struggled to find baseball pants to fit over his curvy ass and wipe hips.
Response: As the sun began to set over Maplewood Park, the baseball field glowed in the soft hues of orange and pink. I zipped up my bag and looked over at my brother—no, my mother?—no, Michael. Even now, six months after the great shift, it was still hard to see Mike in Mom’s body and not burst out laughing. We were practicing before his first co-ed league game, the only one between us still nursing the dream of making it big despite everything. "Hey, you ready for some catch?" I asked, tossing the ball up in the air and catching it. "Yeah, yeah, let’s do this," Michael responded, adjusting the baseball cap to sit right on Mom's head. The dusty navy blue jersey looked out of place, stretched across Mom’s normally elegant frame. We got in our usual positions, ten feet apart, and started tossing the ball back and forth. Michael caught my throw with a grunt and then laughed. “These things are really making it tough," he said, pointing at Mom's chest. I couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah man, I know it’s funny, but you’re still slinging it better than I ever could." We kept at it, my brother occasionally pausing to adjust Mom's baseball glove and curse under his breath. Despite everything, he hadn't lost his skill. Each throw was as precise and strong as it used to be. "Think your friends will go easy on you today?" I smirked as I tossed the ball again. Michael paused, tucking a strand of Mom's hair behind his ear. "Ha, doubtful. They’re a bunch of jokers, but it’s all in good fun. Speaking of which, how does Mom live with these nails? They’re killing my grip!" "Guess you'll have to ask her once she’s back home from gym class. How's training been going anyway?" I said with a flick of my wrist, aiming the ball low. Michael squatted and scooped it up, using the opportunity to stretch Mom’s hamstrings. "Well, I’m not breaking any records, but Mom’s body is holding up surprisingly well. Did you know she could touch her toes
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