We were two young dudes—fresh
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We were two young dudes—fresh out of college, dead broke, but unreasonably optimistic about life. Our summer plan? Take one last trip before we got sucked into the black hole of adulthood.
My best friend, Jake, drew the short straw when it came to family. More specifically, in the, “Who Gets the World’s Most Unhinged Step Mom?” lottery. Linda—blonde, sharp-chinned, always in Kardashian-level makeup and with eyes that could cut granite—was obsessed with “character building.” Which was her way of saying, “I’m gonna make your life difficult, kid.”
I was lacing up my scuffed Vans at our apartment when Jake stormed in, red-faced and wild-eyed, waving a piece of parchment.
“Dude, look at this! Linda says I have to SING AT HER YOGA RETREAT instead of backpacking!”
“Bro, no way.” I took the letter. “Chakra cleansing and… interpretive dance? Jesus.”
Jake slumped on the futon. “I’d rather be trapped in her body than do this crap.”
Words. Fate loves them.
The next morning, things got weird. And I don’t mean “Linda’s only buying almond flour again” weird.
Jake called, but it wasn’t Jake. Or, well, not in the usual sense.
“Dude? It’s me,” the voice quavered. “But I’m… oh my GOD—these nails—my hands—why are they so SOFT?”
I blinked. “Jake? Why do you sound like a Real Housewife?”
He emerged from behind the door, Linda’s face taut with panic, her eyes a blue tornado. Imagine your friend in the body of someone who posts about probiotics on Facebook nightly.
“It’s me, man. She SWAPPED US! My own stepmom! I woke up, and suddenly I was thinking about pilates and lemon water. I can’t even walk in these heels, and look at these—"
He waggled Linda’s hands frantically. A diamond flashed. "I spent ten minutes in the bathroom plucking eyebrows. Dude, I don’t even HAVE eyebrows anymore!”
I had to steady myself on the couch. “Linda? I mean, Jake—where’s your body?”
“Chained to her yoga mat, meditating. I heard dad yelling at her. I think he figured it out.”
Speak of the devil, Mr. Stevenson thundered in, tie askew, face gone pale. He stared at Jake-in-Linda.
“Linda! I mean—uh, Jake? Are you okay, son?”
Jake gripped the island counter like a castaway. “Dad, she swapped me. She used one of her weird candles, started chanting—next thing, I’m in her body staring at her daily planner and fighting the urge to buy essential oils in bulk.”
Mr. Stevenson’s eye twitched (it did that when he wanted to Spock-chop someone).
He bellowed, “LINDA! SWITCH THEM BACK!”
The real Linda, trapped in Jake’s lanky body, strolled in, looking way too comfortable. She cracked Jake’s knuckles and grinned.
“No can do, honey. It’s permanent. Character building!” She ruffled her new son-hair and left for another meditation session.
Jake sighed and thudded his head onto the counter, making Linda’s carefully highlighted hair bounce around. “So much for the trip.”
I felt a pang. But also, jeez, should I be noticing this? Linda was… kinda hot. In a haunting, ‘Mom’s best friend you develop a crush on’ way.
“Hey,” I said. “We’re still going. I don’t care if you’re in Linda’s body. You got weirdly good posture now, and maybe TSA won’t hassle us.”
Jake straightened—shoulders back, hips swaying involuntarily. “I have to pee sitting down, man.”
“New experiences!” I grinned, then tried not to stare, because this was my friend. With eyelash extensions.
Jake glared, flipping Linda’s perfectly coiffed hair. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Nah. …Maybe. But dude—you actually look kind of fierce. Like you could get us a free upgrade, or threaten to sue the airline.”
“Great,” Jake muttered. “My vacation as a Karen.”
He threw up his manicured hands and stalked off to pack. Three skincare serums tumbled from his purse.
I grinned. This was going to be the weirdest adventure of our lives.
And, for the first time ever, I realized Linda’s closet had some killer vacation outfits. Maybe I’d let Jake pick mine out, too.
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 dialogue where Me and my friend were both young guys. We had recently gotten out of college and wanted to take a trip before we began real adult life. My friend has a crazy step mom though. She always had it out for him. She decided he didn’t deserve this trip and swapped their bodies. His dad fortunately figured it out. He told her to swap them back but she said it’s permanent. We’re still going but now he’s stuck in her body. I’ve got to say I never realized how hot she was. Add a lot of detail and lots of good dialogue describe characters thoughts and behavior and be descriptive
Response: We were two young dudes—fresh out of college, dead broke, but unreasonably optimistic about life. Our summer plan? Take one last trip before we got sucked into the black hole of adulthood. My best friend, Jake, drew the short straw when it came to family. More specifically, in the, “Who Gets the World’s Most Unhinged Step Mom?” lottery. Linda—blonde, sharp-chinned, always in Kardashian-level makeup and with eyes that could cut granite—was obsessed with “character building.” Which was her way of saying, “I’m gonna make your life difficult, kid.” I was lacing up my scuffed Vans at our apartment when Jake stormed in, red-faced and wild-eyed, waving a piece of parchment. “Dude, look at this! Linda says I have to SING AT HER YOGA RETREAT instead of backpacking!” “Bro, no way.” I took the letter. “Chakra cleansing and… interpretive dance? Jesus.” Jake slumped on the futon. “I’d rather be trapped in her body than do this crap.” Words. Fate loves them. The next morning, things got weird. And I don’t mean “Linda’s only buying almond flour again” weird. Jake called, but it wasn’t Jake. Or, well, not in the usual sense. “Dude? It’s me,” the voice quavered. “But I’m… oh my GOD—these nails—my hands—why are they so SOFT?” I blinked. “Jake? Why do you sound like a Real Housewife?” He emerged from behind the door, Linda’s face taut with panic, her eyes a blue tornado. Imagine your friend in the body of someone who posts about probiotics on Facebook nightly. “It’s me, man. She SWAPPED US! My own stepmom! I woke up, and suddenly I was thinking about pilates and lemon water. I can’t even walk in these heels, and look at these—" He waggled Linda’s hands frantically. A diamond flashed. "I spent ten minutes in the bathroom plucking eyebrows. Dude, I don’t even HAVE eyebrows anymore!” I had to steady myself on the couch. “Linda? I mean, Jake—where’s your body?” “Chained to her yoga mat, meditating. I heard dad yelling at her. I think he figured it out.” Speak of the devil, Mr. Stevenson thundered in, tie askew, face gone pale. He stared at Jake-in-Linda. “Linda! I mean—uh, Jake? Are you okay, son?” Jake gripped the island counter like a castaway. “Dad, she swapped me. She used one of her weird candles, started chanting—next thing, I’m in her body staring at her daily planner and fighting the urge to buy essential oils in bulk.” Mr. Stevenson’s eye twitched (it did that when he wanted to Spock-chop someone). He bellowed, “LINDA! SWITCH THEM BACK!” The real Linda, trapped in Jake’s lanky body, strolled in, looking way too comfortable. She cracked Jake’s knuckles and grinned. “No can do, honey. It’s permanent. Character building!” She ruffled her new son-hair and left for another meditation session. Jake sighed and thudded his head onto the counter, making Linda’s carefully highlighted hair bounce around. “So much for the trip.” I felt a pang. But also, jeez, should I be noticing this? Linda was… kinda hot. In a haunting, ‘Mom’s best friend you develop a crush on’ way. “Hey,” I said. “We’re still going. I don’t care if you’re in Linda’s body. You got weirdly good posture now, and maybe TSA won’t hassle us.” Jake straightened—shoulders back, hips swaying involuntarily. “I have to pee sitting down, man.” “New experiences!” I grinned, then tried not to stare, because this was my friend. With eyelash extensions. Jake glared, flipping Linda’s perfectly coiffed hair. “You’re enjoying this too much.” “Nah. …Maybe. But dude—you actually look kind of fierce. Like you could get us a free upgrade, or threaten to sue the airline.” “Great,” Jake muttered. “My vacation as a Karen.” He threw up his manicured hands and stalked off to pack. Three skincare serums tumbled from his purse. I grinned. This was going to be the weirdest adventure of our lives. And, for the first time ever, I realized Linda’s closet had some killer vacation outfits. Maybe I’d let Jake pick mine out, too.
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