**Title: Body Swap Shenanigans: Instagram Edition**
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**Title: The Curves of Friendship**
I’d always suspected my best friend, Jerry, was a bit of a weirdo, but nothing prepared me for the morning the Great Swapping happened. Across the city, souls and bodies did the hokey-pokey and turned themselves around. While half the world rejoiced at freak accidents, I was stuck with the greatest cosmic injustice: my best friend Jerry had swapped bodies with my mom, Linda O’Malley.
Linda was... well, Linda. My mom. Red hair, killer curves, the kind of figure a vintage pinup would sell her soul for. She always wore sensible sweaters and slacks, like she was hiding from the world. Jerry, on the other hand, used to look like a confused lab rat with a patchy beard—until yesterday.
Now, Jerry was living his best, bustiest redhead life across Instagram.
I stormed up to his—well, my mom’s—apartment, phone in hand. The door opened before I could even knock, and there stood my former best friend, draped in a silk baby-blue robe that belted just below the equator.
“Oh look,” Jerry purred, tossing a curl over ‘his’—my mom’s—shoulder. “Little Tommy’s come to complain about my Instagram again.”
“I AM GOING TO KILL YOU,” I said, waving my phone, where his latest post, captioned: *‘Who wore it better? Spoiler: it’s my ass 🍑* had already raked in 800 likes.
Jerry sashayed back to the sofa, the *robe* riding up. I tried very, very hard not to look.
“You can’t just—post thirst traps—like—you’re my mom!” I sputtered.
“I’m not your mom. I’m Jerry.” He nestled on the couch, crossed one *dangerously* shapely leg over the other, and picked up a phone—that was also technically mine. “Your mom’s soul is probably riding a moped in Slovakia. This is my body now.”
“It is NOT—oh my god.” I clamped my palms over my face and let out a howl. “You keep writing about your—about HER—tits! Jerry, for fuck’s sake.”
He grinned, all teeth and lipstick. “Which are now my tits. Don’t body-shame me, bro! I’m embracing my truth.”
Embracing was right; he’d set up a lighting ring in the corner. Lacy bras and stockings hung from the coat rack like flags of conquest.
“You wrote, ‘Sweet like honey, curvy like a mountain road, DM for collabs’! My dad follows that account, Jerry.”
“Which is why I blocked him first,” he winked. “Listen, Tommy, when fate hands you lemons the size of melons, you make lemonade—maybe sell it on OnlyFans.”
I wanted to die. Or at least burst into middle-aged menopause just out of spite.
I paced while Jerry scrolled through his DMs, giggling. “This is so fucked up. Just give my mom’s body a break, OK?”
He snorted. “Oh, I am. I eat nothing but cronuts and cheese for breakfast, I nap in a silk negligee, and I’ve got 13K followers hanging on my every jiggle. Sorry not sorry.”
“How is my *actual* mom dealing with this?” I demanded. “You get a kick out of posting boobie pics, she’s probably struggling to figure out how to pee standing up somewhere!”
Jerry shrugged. “She texted. Says she likes having visible abs. Everyone’s adapting, Tommy. Except you.”
I stopped pacing and glared at him—in my mom’s eyes, which was incredibly unsettling. “At least have the decency to, I dunno, wear a shirt sometimes.”
He grinned wider. “Nah, man. These curves are a gift. And it’s hot girl summer—deal with it.”
The Great Swapping, it seemed, was more than a body switch. It was a front-row seat to the weirdest chapter of my life. I just prayed my mom would never learn to use TikTok.
And if I saw another photo of Jerry’s—my mom’s—curvy ass captioned #Blessed, I was unfollowing him for good.
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: When a strange occurrence caused people to swap bodies across town I was angry that my friend had swapped bodies with my mom. He started an Instagram account where he wears sexy outfits and lingerie. I’m going over to his place to yell at him about it. I’m not sure he’s going to care though. He loves all his new followers and he doesn’t want to stop the account, he says it’s his body now and he wants to show it off. God this is weird. He always leaves captions about his big tits or his curvy ass. mom is a redhead with a curvaceous and busty figure. Most of the posts he makes are of him wearing lingerie or bikinis. Write the story with good dialogue with some swearing. Also give the characters names and use good descriptions.
Response: **Title: The Curves of Friendship** I’d always suspected my best friend, Jerry, was a bit of a weirdo, but nothing prepared me for the morning the Great Swapping happened. Across the city, souls and bodies did the hokey-pokey and turned themselves around. While half the world rejoiced at freak accidents, I was stuck with the greatest cosmic injustice: my best friend Jerry had swapped bodies with my mom, Linda O’Malley. Linda was... well, Linda. My mom. Red hair, killer curves, the kind of figure a vintage pinup would sell her soul for. She always wore sensible sweaters and slacks, like she was hiding from the world. Jerry, on the other hand, used to look like a confused lab rat with a patchy beard—until yesterday. Now, Jerry was living his best, bustiest redhead life across Instagram. I stormed up to his—well, my mom’s—apartment, phone in hand. The door opened before I could even knock, and there stood my former best friend, draped in a silk baby-blue robe that belted just below the equator. “Oh look,” Jerry purred, tossing a curl over ‘his’—my mom’s—shoulder. “Little Tommy’s come to complain about my Instagram again.” “I AM GOING TO KILL YOU,” I said, waving my phone, where his latest post, captioned: *‘Who wore it better? Spoiler: it’s my ass 🍑* had already raked in 800 likes. Jerry sashayed back to the sofa, the *robe* riding up. I tried very, very hard not to look. “You can’t just—post thirst traps—like—you’re my mom!” I sputtered. “I’m not your mom. I’m Jerry.” He nestled on the couch, crossed one *dangerously* shapely leg over the other, and picked up a phone—that was also technically mine. “Your mom’s soul is probably riding a moped in Slovakia. This is my body now.” “It is NOT—oh my god.” I clamped my palms over my face and let out a howl. “You keep writing about your—about HER—tits! Jerry, for fuck’s sake.” He grinned, all teeth and lipstick. “Which are now my tits. Don’t body-shame me, bro! I’m embracing my truth.” Embracing was right; he’d set up a lighting ring in the corner. Lacy bras and stockings hung from the coat rack like flags of conquest. “You wrote, ‘Sweet like honey, curvy like a mountain road, DM for collabs’! My dad follows that account, Jerry.” “Which is why I blocked him first,” he winked. “Listen, Tommy, when fate hands you lemons the size of melons, you make lemonade—maybe sell it on OnlyFans.” I wanted to die. Or at least burst into middle-aged menopause just out of spite. I paced while Jerry scrolled through his DMs, giggling. “This is so fucked up. Just give my mom’s body a break, OK?” He snorted. “Oh, I am. I eat nothing but cronuts and cheese for breakfast, I nap in a silk negligee, and I’ve got 13K followers hanging on my every jiggle. Sorry not sorry.” “How is my *actual* mom dealing with this?” I demanded. “You get a kick out of posting boobie pics, she’s probably struggling to figure out how to pee standing up somewhere!” Jerry shrugged. “She texted. Says she likes having visible abs. Everyone’s adapting, Tommy. Except you.” I stopped pacing and glared at him—in my mom’s eyes, which was incredibly unsettling. “At least have the decency to, I dunno, wear a shirt sometimes.” He grinned wider. “Nah, man. These curves are a gift. And it’s hot girl summer—deal with it.” The Great Swapping, it seemed, was more than a body switch. It was a front-row seat to the weirdest chapter of my life. I just prayed my mom would never learn to use TikTok. And if I saw another photo of Jerry’s—my mom’s—curvy ass captioned #Blessed, I was unfollowing him for good.
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