"The Metamorphosis of John into Olivia Rodrigo"
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The digital clock on the wall of the tidy suburban kitchen read 4:00 PM. Seven-year-old John stood on a stool, peering into the fridge with his crystal blue eyes. Today was a big day for John; it was his first time being left home alone. His mom had to run errands, and now he was master of the house—or at least, the kitchen.
Standing at 4 feet 2 inches and weighing 50 pounds, John was a typical first grader, brimming with energy. His birthday was a couple of months ago, on June 12, 2017. Combed neatly, his short blond hair had a slight wave that flicked out at the ends. He was dressed in a simple outfit: a graphic T-shirt featuring his favorite superhero, Spider-Man, and a pair of denim shorts. He wore little white socks and blue sneakers, still brand new from the start of the school season.
As John opened a juice box, he wandered over to the living room, where the family radio played his favorite tunes. Today it was pumping out the sound of Ed Sheeran's “Shape of You,” a song he couldn't help but wiggle his tiny body to whenever it played.
“Come on, be my baby, come on,” John sang along, swaying his arms and giggling. The melody filled the room, bouncing off the walls and settling into his bones like a familiar rhythm. But then, something strange happened. The radio's dial seemed to shift on its own, crackling with static before landing unexpectedly on Olivia Rodrigo’s “Drivers License.”
“No, I don't like this!” John muttered, scrunching up his freckled nose. He reached for the dial to switch it back, but the moment his fingers touched the knob, a sudden jolt surged through his body. He gasped, wide-eyed, feeling an electric tingling racing up and down his spine.
Before he could comprehend what was happening, his Spider-Man T-shirt began to shimmer and morph, the fabric softening and elongating into a blouse with puffed sleeves and a floral pattern. His denim shorts stretched and changed into a pleated skirt.
John looked down in horror as his once small, sock-clad feet transformed, elongating into feminine legs adorned with delicate curves. The next shock came as his sneakers reshaped into heeled sandals, adorned with subtle gems that sparkled under the room's dim lighting.
“Mommy! Mommy, help!" John screamed, his voice quavering. Tears welled up in his eyes as the changes continued. His chest began to feel tight and heavy, reshaping into a form that felt utterly alien to him. His tiny hands, usually covered in dirt from playing outside, grew slender and soft, nails lengthening and taking on a manicured sheen.
His torso elongated and slimmed down as his blouse tightened, hugging the new contours of his body. His arms followed suit, becoming more graceful and elegant, unrecognizable from his earlier boyish build.
“Mommy, help I---” His voice caught in his throat as his head felt light, hairs prickling at the roots. His blonde hair grew longer, cascading down in rich, dark waves, framing a face that was no longer his. The mirrors on the living room wall reflected his transformation, showing the softening of cheeks, the high cheekbones, the delicate nose. His eyes darkened to a deep brown, wide and expressive.
Before he could finish his plea, his words shifted, morphing into a melody that felt familiar yet strange. "Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily you found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks..." The lyrics poured out effortlessly, venting suppressed emotions through the hauntingly familiar voice of Olivia Rodrigo.
As the song continued—“Maybe I'm too emotional, but your apathy's like a wound in salt... maybe I'm too emotional or maybe you never cared at all ”—John’s former life began to blur. Memories of being a little boy, of his Spiderman T-shirt, and playing outside shifted, replaced by scenes of crowded concert halls and recording studios.
When the song ended, she stood there, disoriented. The room looked strange, distant, as if seen through a fog of memories that didn't belong to her new self. Glancing around bewildered, Olivia Rodrigo—now fully in body and soul—walked out of the unfamiliar house, leaving behind no trace of the seven-year-old boy who once existed there. His essence fully transformed, she took her first steps into the world, unknowingly carrying the last echoes of John within her new form.
This story was generated by user manemansteve 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: A story about 7 year old John in the year 2024 with a description of the boy's height, weight, birthday, birth year, hair color and style and eye color and what he's wearing and have him be home alone for the first time. Have him be listening to some music with a detailed description of the actual song and actual singer he likes when the radio suddenly shifts to Olivia Rodrigo who he doesn't like cause he doesn't like female artists. Have him try to change the station back when he feels a jolt go through his body. Have his body suddenly start changing with a detailed description of his outfit changing into something Olivia Rodrigo would wear. Have his feet and legs start changing into hers with a slow detailed description. Have him panic yelling for mommy and have it be in quoted text. Have his chest and torso and arms and hands start changing into hers with a slow detailed description. Have his head and hair and face and voice start changing into hers with a slow detailed description. Have his memories start changing mid sentence as he said mommy help i-----"Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily you found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks" she started off singing and then continued throughout the rest of the song as she got to "Maybe I'm too emotional but your apathy's like a wound in salt maybe I'm too emotional or maybe you never cared at all maybe I'm too emotional your apathy is like a wound in salt maybe I'm too emotional or maybe you never cared at all" and she continued until she was done singing Good 4 U. Have her look around confused as she left the unfamiliar house having no memory of who she used to be.
Response: The digital clock on the wall of the tidy suburban kitchen read 4:00 PM. Seven-year-old John stood on a stool, peering into the fridge with his crystal blue eyes. Today was a big day for John; it was his first time being left home alone. His mom had to run errands, and now he was master of the house—or at least, the kitchen. Standing at 4 feet 2 inches and weighing 50 pounds, John was a typical first grader, brimming with energy. His birthday was a couple of months ago, on June 12, 2017. Combed neatly, his short blond hair had a slight wave that flicked out at the ends. He was dressed in a simple outfit: a graphic T-shirt featuring his favorite superhero, Spider-Man, and a pair of denim shorts. He wore little white socks and blue sneakers, still brand new from the start of the school season. As John opened a juice box, he wandered over to the living room, where the family radio played his favorite tunes. Today it was pumping out the sound of Ed Sheeran's “Shape of You,” a song he couldn't help but wiggle his tiny body to whenever it played. “Come on, be my baby, come on,” John sang along, swaying his arms and giggling. The melody filled the room, bouncing off the walls and settling into his bones like a familiar rhythm. But then, something strange happened. The radio's dial seemed to shift on its own, crackling with static before landing unexpectedly on Olivia Rodrigo’s “Drivers License.” “No, I don't like this!” John muttered, scrunching up his freckled nose. He reached for the dial to switch it back, but the moment his fingers touched the knob, a sudden jolt surged through his body. He gasped, wide-eyed, feeling an electric tingling racing up and down his spine. Before he could comprehend what was happening, his Spider-Man T-shirt began to shimmer and morph, the fabric softening and elongating into a blouse with puffed sleeves and a floral pattern. His denim shorts stretched and changed into a pleated skirt. John looked down in horror as his once small, sock-clad feet transformed, elongating into feminine legs adorned with delicate curves. The next shock came as his sneakers reshaped into heeled sandals, adorned with subtle gems that sparkled under the room's dim lighting. “Mommy! Mommy, help!" John screamed, his voice quavering. Tears welled up in his eyes as the changes continued. His chest began to feel tight and heavy, reshaping into a form that felt utterly alien to him. His tiny hands, usually covered in dirt from playing outside, grew slender and soft, nails lengthening and taking on a manicured sheen. His torso elongated and slimmed down as his blouse tightened, hugging the new contours of his body. His arms followed suit, becoming more graceful and elegant, unrecognizable from his earlier boyish build. “Mommy, help I---” His voice caught in his throat as his head felt light, hairs prickling at the roots. His blonde hair grew longer, cascading down in rich, dark waves, framing a face that was no longer his. The mirrors on the living room wall reflected his transformation, showing the softening of cheeks, the high cheekbones, the delicate nose. His eyes darkened to a deep brown, wide and expressive. Before he could finish his plea, his words shifted, morphing into a melody that felt familiar yet strange. "Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily you found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks..." The lyrics poured out effortlessly, venting suppressed emotions through the hauntingly familiar voice of Olivia Rodrigo. As the song continued—“Maybe I'm too emotional, but your apathy's like a wound in salt... maybe I'm too emotional or maybe you never cared at all ”—John’s former life began to blur. Memories of being a little boy, of his Spiderman T-shirt, and playing outside shifted, replaced by scenes of crowded concert halls and recording studios. When the song ended, she stood there, disoriented. The room looked strange, distant, as if seen through a fog of memories that didn't belong to her new self. Glancing around bewildered, Olivia Rodrigo—now fully in body and soul—walked out of the unfamiliar house, leaving behind no trace of the seven-year-old boy who once existed there. His essence fully transformed, she took her first steps into the world, unknowingly carrying the last echoes of John within her new form.
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