Wild stories (Patreon)

Hi all. I decided to post the results of my work with ChatGPT. I wonder what you say, do you like this kind of content from me? Maybe you like some of these works more or less. Write, don’t be shy, I always read comments and often take this into account =)

You can also write your ideas, and thank you for your support.

...

Ethan Tanoville, the city's most notorious playboy and cutthroat businessman, had a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. But his cavalier approach to relationships finally backfired when an ex-girlfriend, fed up with his antics, cursed him in a fit of rage.

The curse was bizarre and cruel. Every weekend, Ethan's reality twisted wildly, transforming him into Eve, a real call girl. The transformation was complete and humiliating. His once-admired masculine frame was now clad in tight skirts and pigtails, a stark contrast to the sharp suits he was known for.

Ethan, who used to relish his weekends, now dreaded them. As Eve, he was thrown into the gritty underbelly of the city's nightlife. He was no longer the predator but the prey, a plaything in a dangerous world he once thought he ruled. The irony of his situation wasn't lost on him; he had become the very thing he used to toy with and discard.

His time as Eve was filled with demeaning encounters and crude realities. The confident, commanding businessman was replaced by a version of himself that had to cater to others' whims and fancies. Each leering glance, each crude remark, ate away at him.

Ethan hated every second of it. The weekends were a blur of distasteful experiences, a far cry from the luxury and control he was accustomed to. He felt trapped, a victim of his own past misdeeds, forced to walk in shoes he had never given a second thought to.

The curse became Ethan's private hell, a relentless cycle of degradation. He scoured the city for a way out, desperate to break the spell. He begged, threatened, and bribed, but nothing worked. The curse was a chain around his neck, a constant reminder of the hearts he had callously broken.

...

Jackson Avery was the kind of rich brat who thought the world revolved around him. His days were spent showing off his wealth, cruising in his latest sports car, and living it up in his high-tech penthouse. But all that changed one drunken night when he sarcastically wished to a shooting star, "Wouldn't it be freaking hilarious to live like those poor saps in the old days?"

He should have bitten his tongue. The next morning, Jackson wasn't in his fancy bed. Instead, he woke up in a crappy, dingy room that smelled like farm animals and looked like something out of a history book. And that's not even the worst part. He was now a woman — a poor, 18th-century country housewife, stuck in a tight skirt that itched like hell and hoop earrings that were more a torture device than jewelry.

Jackson's once chiseled, masculine body was gone. In its place was a frail, feminine one that felt completely alien. The corset he was squeezed into was a freaking nightmare, making it hard to breathe. The rough fabric of his clothes scratched against his skin, a far cry from his usual designer wear.

He was pissed off. Every freaking thing about this new life was a slap in the face. Chopping wood, cooking on some ancient stove, and dealing with the backbreaking work of those times — it was all a big, fat joke to him.

And the worst part? The damn rules he had to follow. Being a woman back then wasn’t a walk in the park. He missed the freedom, the respect he used to command. No more late-night parties, no gourmet food, and definitely no speeding around in fast cars. He felt trapped in a world that was too slow, too backward, and too freaking boring.

...

Rich brat named Maxwell Sinclair was the kinda feller who had more money than sense. He grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, and he thought the whole world was just there to cater to him.

One day, Maxwell found himself with a bunch of crazy scientists. They were all into some wild experiment, and Maxwell, being the thrill-seeker he was, jumped right in. Little did he know, he was in for a mind-blowing ride.

As that experiment started, a blinding flash of light hit him, and he was suddenly in a dingy, run-down kitchen. The guy was wearing a flowery dress and a dang apron. His surroundings looked nothin' like the fancy penthouse he was used to.

In his head, he wanted to scream, "What the hell just happened to me? Where am I?" But when he opened his yap, it came out more like, "What in tarnation happened to me? Where the heck am I?"

Maxwell's first reaction? Pure fury, confusion, and denial. He saw his reflection in a cracked mirror, and it was some middle-aged woman starin' back at him. His body felt all wrong, heavy, and awkward. His fingers fumbled with that apron's strings, and he couldn't stand the god-awful floral pattern on his dress.

In this alternate reality, he sure as heck wasn't Maxwell Sinclair, the rich kid. His dad was just a regular ol' farmer, strugglin' to get by on their dinky little farm. Maxwell's anger grew by the minute as he realized his life of luxury was ripped away, replaced by this rural housewife gig.

He hated the rough skin on his hands, all the darn chores on the farm, and the constant aches and pains. Maxwell missed his designer clothes and servants who'd do anything for him. Now, he was stuck doin' farm work and talkin' like a backwoods yokel.

But what really got under his skin was the way folks spoke here. They had this thick Southern drawl, and they used phrases like "y'all," "fixin' to," and "ain't" all the dang time. He longed to speak like he used to, all fancy and proper, but no matter how hard he tried, it came out soundin' like a hillbilly.

...

I stood there on the damn street, months after all that crap went down. My clothes felt like they were strangling the life outta me. These hoop earrings and big-ass breasts were like friggin' weights, and this corset and tight skirt? Ugh, they were suffocating.

But I didn't give a rat's ass about how uncomfortable I was. I had a score to settle, and I was ready to use whatever it took to get that green. It was all for my "work," a job I never thought I'd stoop so low to do.

I spotted that sorry sack of crap from my past, the one I used to torment like there was no tomorrow. He was just a loser back then, but now he was my ticket out of this mess. I had to squeeze every last dollar out of him for the stuff I had to do with my mouth, and I wasn't gonna take no for an answer.

My journey to this screwed-up life started with me being an Irish-born bully in this small, crappy American town. I was a total hooligan, causing chaos on these streets and pullin' off all sorts of criminal crap. Then karma came kickin' my ass, and instead of facing jail time, I got transformed into a black woman by the freakin' government.

It was like some messed-up Twilight Zone episode. One minute, I'm this tough-as-nails thug, and the next, I'm stuck in this chick's body, wearin' clothes that made me feel like a clown. My so-called friend, who owned a strip joint, thought I was some dumb bimbo who got herself in trouble. He thought he could flex his power over me and make me his cash cow.

"You want help, huh?" he said, snickering like the jerk he was. "This is the only help I can give you, sweetheart."

I protested, but he didn't give a damn. He forced me into this new life, didn't believe a word I said, and just saw a woman without papers, someone he could exploit for his own gain. I was stuck in this world of crime and lies, and nobody gave a crap about my cries for help.

I couldn't accept this new reality, but it was the hand I was dealt. I was this woman, whether I liked it or not, and I had to figure out how to survive.

Little did I know, this transformation wasn't some government program. It was all the scheme of a twisted, rich scientist who pulled the wool over everyone's eyes, even the friggin' government.

...

In the luxurious confines of his extravagant office, Richard Montgomery, a middle-aged billionaire with a penchant for the arcane, stood gazing at the ornate book of spells on his desk. His eyes danced with excitement as he contemplated the power he held within those ancient pages. It was a stormy, dark evening, the perfect setting for a little magical experimentation.

Richard had always been fascinated by the idea of knowing his competitors' deepest secrets. He harbored a particular loathing for his main rival, Charles Devereaux, the CEO of a rival conglomerate. With a mischievous grin, he whispered the incantation, waving his hands in a dramatic flourish. He watched as the world around him transformed.

Reality twisted and morphed, and as it settled, Richard found himself standing in a lavishly decorated office. He looked around, his heart pounding with excitement. He recognized the room instantly - it was Charles Devereaux's office. He had succeeded in switching places with his arch-nemesis.

Gleefully, Richard glanced at the plaque on the desk that read "CEO - Charles Devereaux." He had done it. He was now in the position to uncover every secret his rival had been hiding.

However, the triumph soon turned to confusion. A strange discomfort gnawed at him. He looked down and gasped in shock. He was no longer a middle-aged man in a sharp suit. Instead, he found himself dressed in a French maid's outfit, complete with tight stockings and uncomfortable heels. His heart raced as he realized he had become a woman.

As he struggled to come to terms with his new reality, the office door swung open. In walked Charles Devereaux, who, to Richard's amazement, greeted him with a loving smile.

"Mon amour, you look ravishing today," Charles purred in French, leaning in to kiss Richard on the cheek.

The newly-transformed Richard was dumbfounded, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend what had happened. He opened his mouth to speak but found that he could only produce words in French, a language he barely knew.

"Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" Richard stammered, the unfamiliar words escaping his lips.

Charles chuckled, believing Richard to be joking. "Oh, ma chérie, you always know how to make me laugh."

As the conversation continued in French, Richard's eyes widened with realization. He was trapped in this body, in this role, for at least a week until the spell wore off.

...

Jake was walking along the road, his brow furrowed and his steps heavy. He had just had a heated argument with his mother, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of being deeply offended. He decided to walk to school to clear his head, even though he was running late.

As he made his way down the sidewalk, a disheveled homeless man approached him, his eyes filled with a strange glimmer. "Young man," the tramp said, "I can fulfill any wish you have. Anything at all."

Jake, annoyed by the interruption and preoccupied with his own thoughts, replied curtly, "I don't have time for this right now." He continued walking, hoping the man would take the hint and leave him alone.

But the homeless man didn't give up that easily. He followed Jake a few steps and then asked, "What's troubling you, young one?"

Jake sighed, not expecting the stranger to understand or care, but he replied, "I had a fight with my mom. She can be so overbearing."

A subtle smile crossed the homeless man's face, and without saying another word, he turned and walked away.

As Jake continued his walk to school, he couldn't help but notice that the sun was beginning to break through the clouds. A warm ray of sunshine kissed his face, and inexplicably, his mood began to lift. However, he barely had a moment to enjoy it when a stranger approached him.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the stranger said in a peculiar tone, "I've been looking for you. I'd really like to meet you."

Confused and taken back, Jake replied in surprise, "Go to hell!" Then he realized something was terribly wrong. His voice sounded strange, and when he glanced at his body, he couldn't believe his eyes.

He was no longer a young man. He was now a woman. Panic surged through him as he felt the weight of his feminine chest, the unfamiliar sensation of a tight dress, and the pressure of its straps on his shoulders. He looked around in shock, but everything seemed normal, except for himself.

With trembling hands, Jake touched his face. It was still his face, but his reflection in a nearby store window showed that he had transformed into an adult woman.

The stranger who had approached him seemed to be the only one who had noticed the change. "Wait! What did you do to me?" Jake demanded, his voice filled with fear and confusion.

The stranger explained, "I granted your wish. You said you had problems with your mother, so I thought I'd give you a new perspective."

Jake's mind raced as he tried to process what had just happened The homeless man disappeared and Jake had to return to his new home. He had become an adult woman, and it appeared that his life had completely changed. He realized that he was now responsible for a family, a job, and a household.

Over the following days and weeks, Jake had to adapt to his new life. He learned that he was working as a secretary, managing a household, and being a mother and a wife.

...

Stanley couldn't believe, looking at his reflection, that it was him. Although his facial features were preserved, the rest of his body was changed. It all started when Stanley had come to Japan to compete in a bodybuilding championship. He was passionate about his craft and had always dreamed of taking his skills to an international stage. However, after a grueling competition, he decided to celebrate with some friends, leading them on an adventure through the winding streets of Tokyo.

As they meandered through the neon-lit cityscape, Stanley and his friends ended up in an unfamiliar area, shrouded in shadows and secrecy. They stumbled upon an inconspicuous building that, unbeknownst to them, was a Japanese brothel. Curiosity got the better of them, and they decided to enter, thinking it was just a quirky Japanese experience.

Inside, they were greeted by a polite but stern-looking older man, the owner of the establishment. Stanley and his friends enjoyed the services, but when it came time to pay, they balked at the exorbitant bill. Stanley, in particular, was defiant, boasting about his strength and refusing to part with his money.

The owner of the brothel sighed and decided to teach these arrogant foreigners a lesson. He told Stanley that if he didn't want to pay, he would have to work off his debt at the brothel. Stanley laughed at the notion, confident in his physical progress and believing he could easily overpower the old man.

However, before Stanley could react, the owner swiftly pulled out a tiny dart and, with remarkable precision, shot it into Stanley's neck. A moment later, the world around him blurred, and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

When Stanley finally awoke, he was in a dimly lit room, disoriented and weakened. As he looked down at his body, he was horrified to find that his muscles had disappeared, replaced by softer curves. His chest had grown, and he now had distinctly female body parts. Even his voice, when he spoke, came out in a higher, more feminine tone.

It slowly dawned on Stanley that he had undergone a gender reassignment surgery at an underground, illegal clinic while he was unconscious. The brothel owner had indeed kept his word, but in a way that Stanley had never imagined.