*Trading Places: The Abigail-Mike Swap*
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Title: *Trading Places: The Abigail-Mike Swap*
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Abigail was known for her fiery red hair and an attitude to match. She never backed down from a challenge, and if there was one person she loved to challenge, it was my friend Mike. Now, Mike wasn't a bad guy, but sometimes the words he let loose would turn your brain cells into bubbling mush.
One sunny afternoon, Mike dropped by our house like he usually did, planting himself on the couch like he owned it. "You know what? Women have it so easy," Mike said, his voice implying he'd just discovered the secret of the universe.
I paused from my game of Tetris, while Abigail froze mid-sip of her coffee. "Excuse me?" her eyes narrowed, signaling imminent danger. This was going to be good.
"Yeah," Mike continued, ignorant to the brewing storm. "Y'all just have to look pretty and everything gets handed to ya."
A silence settled over the room as thick as day-old oatmeal. Then, faster than lightning, Abigail’s cup smashed onto the table. "Oh, really? Well, I wish you could live in my shoes for just one day."
Before anyone could say "potato salad," a weird, tingly light enveloped the room, kind of like when you try microwaving aluminum foil. When everything settled, I saw Mike standing where Abigail was, and Abigail, well, let's just say she'd suddenly developed an impressive stubble and a considerably flatter chest area.
Mike, or rather, Abigail in Mike's voice, looked around bewildered. "What just happened?"
"I think we swapped bodies," Mike—Abigail in Mike's body—said in a tone that suggested non-surprise was impossible.
It took about half a second for Mike-in-Abigail's-body to find the nearest mirror. "Whoa," he exclaimed, with a wicked grin spreading across his newly borrowed visage. He jumped up and down a little, just to feel the physics of it all. "This feels, uh, interesting. How do you even move with these things?"
"Hey! Quit feeling up my wife!" I shouted, which was disorienting because technically, she was still my wife but housing my idiot friend's soul.
"Oh, come on! You can't tell me you're not a little curious how it feels," Mike said, peeking down 'his' shirt with a mischievous glint in 'his' eye.
"I swear, if you stretch out my favorite bra," Abigail threatened, still not entirely comfortable articulating from the depths of Mike's vocal cords.
"Oh, relax. It's all in the name of research," Mike said, but he froze under Abigail’s death-glare emanating from his own face. Confusing, right?
"Hey, listen," I intervened. "There’s gotta be some way to reverse this. We can’t just have Mike parade around in Abigail’s body!"
Abigail—or Mike, either way—scoffed. "You think I want to be in this hairy meat sack for longer than necessary? God, Michael, do you ever moisturize?"
As Mike started poking at his cheeks, scratching an invisible itch, Abigail felt a rare surge of empathy. "Now, you’ll get to see what it’s like being in a woman’s body. Let’s see you deal with unsolicited catcalls, or choosing between professional and stylish."
"Okay, okay," Mike mumbled, suddenly anxious. "You made your point. How do we swap back?"
Abigail smirked. "Now we’re getting somewhere! We need to find out how it happened first. Think we can reverse-engineer an accidental wish granting?"
"Well, let’s try wishing again," I suggested, because clearly, I’m a genius.
"Alright," said Abigail. "On three. One… two... three… I wish to be me again!"
The room flooded with that tinny light again, this time more like a slightly open microwave. When it cleared, Mike was back to being Mike, and Abigail, to my immense relief, was standing confidently in her own skin.
"Never again," Mike murmured, shaking his head.
"Good," Abigail said firmly. "And remember, this experience the next time you think we’ve got it easy."
"Oh, I will. Trust me, I will," Mike said, still slightly flustered but visibly more respectful.
Lesson learned. And me? I decided to never underestimate the power of wishes, feisty redheads, or the potential terror of a magical body swap.
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: My redheaded and busty wife Abigail was always super feisty. she liked to argue and especially argue with my friend Mike. Today Mike said a sexist comment about how women have it easy. Abigail got mad at him and she said she wishes he could live in her shoes pretty soon they swapped bodies. Now Mike is feeling up his new boobs and jumping up and down peaking down his shirt. It's clear he likes his new body. Write the story with lots of dialogue.
Response: Title: *Trading Places: The Abigail-Mike Swap* --- Abigail was known for her fiery red hair and an attitude to match. She never backed down from a challenge, and if there was one person she loved to challenge, it was my friend Mike. Now, Mike wasn't a bad guy, but sometimes the words he let loose would turn your brain cells into bubbling mush. One sunny afternoon, Mike dropped by our house like he usually did, planting himself on the couch like he owned it. "You know what? Women have it so easy," Mike said, his voice implying he'd just discovered the secret of the universe. I paused from my game of Tetris, while Abigail froze mid-sip of her coffee. "Excuse me?" her eyes narrowed, signaling imminent danger. This was going to be good. "Yeah," Mike continued, ignorant to the brewing storm. "Y'all just have to look pretty and everything gets handed to ya." A silence settled over the room as thick as day-old oatmeal. Then, faster than lightning, Abigail’s cup smashed onto the table. "Oh, really? Well, I wish you could live in my shoes for just one day." Before anyone could say "potato salad," a weird, tingly light enveloped the room, kind of like when you try microwaving aluminum foil. When everything settled, I saw Mike standing where Abigail was, and Abigail, well, let's just say she'd suddenly developed an impressive stubble and a considerably flatter chest area. Mike, or rather, Abigail in Mike's voice, looked around bewildered. "What just happened?" "I think we swapped bodies," Mike—Abigail in Mike's body—said in a tone that suggested non-surprise was impossible. It took about half a second for Mike-in-Abigail's-body to find the nearest mirror. "Whoa," he exclaimed, with a wicked grin spreading across his newly borrowed visage. He jumped up and down a little, just to feel the physics of it all. "This feels, uh, interesting. How do you even move with these things?" "Hey! Quit feeling up my wife!" I shouted, which was disorienting because technically, she was still my wife but housing my idiot friend's soul. "Oh, come on! You can't tell me you're not a little curious how it feels," Mike said, peeking down 'his' shirt with a mischievous glint in 'his' eye. "I swear, if you stretch out my favorite bra," Abigail threatened, still not entirely comfortable articulating from the depths of Mike's vocal cords. "Oh, relax. It's all in the name of research," Mike said, but he froze under Abigail’s death-glare emanating from his own face. Confusing, right? "Hey, listen," I intervened. "There’s gotta be some way to reverse this. We can’t just have Mike parade around in Abigail’s body!" Abigail—or Mike, either way—scoffed. "You think I want to be in this hairy meat sack for longer than necessary? God, Michael, do you ever moisturize?" As Mike started poking at his cheeks, scratching an invisible itch, Abigail felt a rare surge of empathy. "Now, you’ll get to see what it’s like being in a woman’s body. Let’s see you deal with unsolicited catcalls, or choosing between professional and stylish." "Okay, okay," Mike mumbled, suddenly anxious. "You made your point. How do we swap back?" Abigail smirked. "Now we’re getting somewhere! We need to find out how it happened first. Think we can reverse-engineer an accidental wish granting?" "Well, let’s try wishing again," I suggested, because clearly, I’m a genius. "Alright," said Abigail. "On three. One… two... three… I wish to be me again!" The room flooded with that tinny light again, this time more like a slightly open microwave. When it cleared, Mike was back to being Mike, and Abigail, to my immense relief, was standing confidently in her own skin. "Never again," Mike murmured, shaking his head. "Good," Abigail said firmly. "And remember, this experience the next time you think we’ve got it easy." "Oh, I will. Trust me, I will," Mike said, still slightly flustered but visibly more respectful. Lesson learned. And me? I decided to never underestimate the power of wishes, feisty redheads, or the potential terror of a magical body swap.
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