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Question: Story: Write me a story the way I type about a 6 year old boy with a description of the boy's name, appearance, what state he's from, what he looks like, what he sounds like, and what he's wearing as he goes to bed. Have him wake up the next morning somewhere random in another state in the body of a woman sleeping on the couch with her boyfriend or husband while watching TV with a description of what the state the boy wakes up in, the name of the woman, her age, what she looks like, have him be older than someone he used to be younger than with the age of the person included, describe the outfit possibly dress she fell asleep in and shoes possibly platform sandals she woke up wearing and accessories and possibly tattoos and possibly makeup and possibly lipstick and possibly nail polish. Please have the boy unwillingly say something to the man he wakes up next to about the man's appearance only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about sleeping only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the man in regards to the platform sandals only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the outfit only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the makeup only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the woman's tattoos only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the woman's accessories only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about how the woman met the man only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the state he woke up in only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something nasty about other states and something especially disrespectful about the state he's actually from and something rude about the people from the state he's actually from only the woman would say. The swap is permanent. The boy misses his family.
Story: There was a little 6-year-old boy named Elijah. He had the innocent cherubic face of an angel, his blond hair curled delicately around his soft, rosy cheeks. His voice was a gentle squeak, a joyful sound full of innocence and wonderment. His home was the Green Mountain State, Vermont, where evergreen trees towered high, and the air had a scent of pure wholesomeness. Every night he wore his favorite pair of spaceship pajamas, a reminder of his dreams of venturing into unknown lands. One morning, after a night of pleasant dreams, Elijah woke up but in a place he'd never seen before. It wasn't his cosy room in Vermont anymore, he was lying on a couch, in a state far from his home, Texas, with a stern man engrossed in a rerun of a football match on television. Elijah could tell he was no longer in his spaceship pajamas. He felt different, uncomfortable and grown up. Looking down, he saw himself cloaked with a woman's body and he found himself dressed in a breezy summer dress, the fabric adorned with the colors of a setting Texan sun. Upon his feet, he wore a pair of strappy platform sandals that told the stories of countless soirees and summer barbecues. The name "Samantha" was ringing in his ears, and with a swift look inside a weathered wallet on the coffee table, he found out - Samantha was his name now. Looking in the mirror, he saw a face he'd seen in few family pictures, a woman named Samantha who was nearly 30 years older than his big sister, who right now could still be a mere 15-year-old back in Vermont. Samantha had a casually groomed appearance. Smoky eyes, dusky pink lipstick shade, manicured nails with a matte Polish of passionate rouge - she wore makeup tastefully. Samantha also sported a series of tattoos, symbols of vital milestones in her life, etched into her skin artistically. As he reached out to push a lock of hair from his face, the glint of various silver accessories adorning his wrists and fingers startled him. "You know, I've always loved your tattoos, especially the one on your arm," the man on the couch remarked scratching his beard, a gesture that the boy now involuntarily referred as 'cute'. "The tattoo parlor at Sixth Street really did a fine job, didn't they babe?" "How did you manage to walk around with me all day in these sandals? You really don’t get how uncomfortable male shoes are, do you?" The words slipped out of his mouth, chastising the man about his lack of understanding of female footwear. Observing the sun-yellowed dress draped over his body, he barely stopped himself from commenting, "This dress is so out of season!", some deep instinct within him bristled at the ensemble. He brushed a hand over his makeup-clad face, exclaiming, "I think next time we go shopping, you need to pick a skincare product that actually works for your stubble." His gaze slid down to the tattoos, and with reserved admiration, muttered, "You never could color within the lines, could you?" Moving a shaky hand to the silver bracelets around his wrist, he found words coming out of his mouth, "You've always had a knack for picking out the perfect gift for our anniversary." And then with a sigh, leaned against the sturdy frame of the man beside him and said, “You remember when we first met at the stockyard music festival ? Babe, it was love at first sight." But Samantha's eyes held a prominent sadness when he saw the wide plains outside, our new home, Texas. Being unapologetically Samantha, he made it very clear, "There's no state like Texas. I mean, who'd want to live in Vermont? Bunch of maple syrup swilling tree-huggers." Yet, under the brassy pronouncements, there was the haunting ache of a homesick child. A 6-year-old boy who missed tucking into his spaceship sheets, who missed the crisp Vermont air, who missed running around those evergreen giants and most of all, missed the warmth of his family.
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