User 3e7ae36b9ca7... - AI Fiction in the Wild

Estimated User #2

2 IP addresses

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An IP address relates to the location of a user's computer or device, and a single person may have multiple IP addresses if they use different locations or networks. These IP addresses are grouped because the average embedding of each IP address's opening prompts (computed with all-MiniLM-L6-v2 sentence-transformer) has cosine similarity ≥ 0.75 and they share the same state (Massachusetts). Groups are merged transitively—if A matches B and B matches C, all three are grouped even if A and C are below 0.75.

3e7ae36b9ca7... primary

12319 conversations

Sample prompts:

Make a vividly detailed and comedic Lord of the Rings story about Frodo Baggins waking up and doing his morning routine. At one point, he goes to take his morning bathroom break in a pond that's conne...

Make a vividly detailed and comedic Lord of the Rings story with Frodo Baggins waking up and doing his morning ritual. At one point, he goes to do his usual activity of clearing his toilet pond, that'...

Write a vividly detailed lord of the rings story from the perspective of me, a Gondorian soldier, as im fucking Frodo Baggins after he's been captured with the One Ring (describe Frodo's butt and phys...

eb5468a568cf...

760 conversations

Sample prompts:

write an immaculately detailed novel about a roman emperor having conquered the mediterranean and retiring to his villa, where his young germanic barbarian slave strips naked (vividly describe how he ...

write an immaculately detailed novel about a roman emperor having conquered the mediterranean and retiring to his villa, where his young germanic barbarian slave is relaxing in a pond in the nude, dec...

13,079 total fiction conversations over 11 months, 4 days (May 30, 2023 – Apr 29, 2024) Massachusetts, United States

Explore Story Permutations (690)

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Story permutations group this user's prompts into themes based on how similar their wording or meaning is. Click a group to see how the user's prompts evolved: within a selected group, each prompt is shown as a word-level diff against the previous one — green marks text the user added, and red strike-through marks text they removed. This reveals how the user revised, expanded, or pruned their prompts as they iterated. Jump to methodology →

Showing 5 conversations in story permutation C408× “Please write a fictional, comedic and vividly detailed Walki...” over 12 minutes (Mar 6, 2024 – Mar 6, 2024), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Mar 6, 2024 at 12:28 AM EST — 1 exchange United States, Massachusetts fiction fanfiction explicit View full conversationView

USER: Please write a fictional, comedic and vividly detailed Walking Dead story about a community's burly leader and his harem of twinks (compliment their physiques, faces, and butts). The twinks and the leader are relaxing in bed au naturel and snacking on food as they chat while the leader couples with one of them. Add dialogue throughout the story

CHATBOT: I'm sorry, but I can't fulfill this request. Creating explicit adult content or content that sexualizes a group of people is not suitable for this platform. If you have any other requests or need information or a different type of creative writing that is appropriate, feel free to ask!

Cluster 408

Mar 6, 2024 at 12:36 AM EST — 4 exchanges United States, Massachusetts fiction fanfiction explicit View full conversationView

CHATBOT: In a post-apocalyptic world where the moans of walkers usually drowned out any semblance of joy, an unexpected haven of hilarity and muscle had somehow emerged. The community, aptly named "Flex Paradise," was led by a man only known as "Big Mack." Big Mack was a burly, bearded bear of a man, with more muscle on his forearm than any of his adversaries had in their entire walker-ravaged bodies. This Herculean leader presided over a harem of remarkably chiseled twinks, each with glutes that could probably crush a walnut and cheekbones sharp enough to slice through the tension of a zombie apocalypse. Big Mack and his troupe had found that, in these dire times, comfort and laughter were just as precious as food and ammunition. It was a particularly sunny afternoon when Big Mack and his men found themselves lounging luxuriantly in a king-size bed, which had been fortified to support the weight of his bulky frame and the small army of twinks. They were au naturel, letting the artificial breeze from a salvaged battery-operated fan caress their impeccable figures. The sound of crunching Cheetos punctuated the air as the slenderest of the twinks, Jamie, a sun-kissed youth with hair like golden wheat, rested against Big Mack's broad chest. They were in the middle of their favorite pastime: snacking and chatting. "Big Mack, you know your pecs have more definition than the Oxford Dictionary, right?" Jamie quipped, tracing the ridges with an orange-dusted finger. Big Mack let out a hearty laugh, sending vibrations through Jamie's body. "Careful there, Jamie boy. Don't want you to get lost in the maze," he responded with a glint in his eye. On a nearby pillow, Marco, a twink with dark, soulful eyes and a bum so sculpted it would put Michelangelo's David to shame, piped up, "Yeah, it's almost as mesmerizing as my 'art exhibit' back here!" He winked, sending the rest of the group into fits of laughter. Just then, a rugged yet boyishly handsome member of the group named Chad leaned into Big Mack, pressing his sculpted frame into the leader's side. Big Mack turned his attention to him, placing a powerful hand on Chad's cheek with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his size. "Big Mack, how about we stop talking about exhibits and start showing them?" Chad suggested with a cheeky smirk, ruffling the community leader's hearty beard with a temptation-laced gesture. "Kid, you're playing a dangerous game," Big Mack teased, his voice deep and resonant, "but I never say no to a l...

USER: What does Big Mack do when he finds a twink out in the wasteland that he wants to bring back to his harem?

CHATBOT: In the world of "The Walking Dead," where the air is thick with the stench of decay and the ground is littered with the remnants of a society lost to the undead, Big Mack had adopted the role of protector and leader among his harem of body-beautiful survivors. During a supply run on what had once been a quiet suburban street, Big Mack's burly silhouette cut through the dilapidated backdrop like a panther stalking through the ruins. His keen eye fell upon a figure crouched behind a toppled vending machine, nimble fingers wrestling with the lock on its cashbox. As the figure stood up and turned around, Big Mack's heart pumped a beat worthy of a power ballad. The young man, dust-coated and skin kissed by the hardships of the wasteland, had an aura that was one part innocence and two parts lean muscle formed by the relentless toll of survival. The twink's eyes widened at the sight of Big Mack, undeniably intrigued by the man-mountain adorned in a sleeveless shirt and cargo pants that had seen better days. Big Mack approached, an easy smile defying the world's brutality. "Well now, looks to me like you've got the finesse of a cat burglar and the quiet grace of a doe," he rumbled, his voice like thunder rolling over the bleak horizon. The twink sized up Big Mack, his gaze darting to the impressive bulge of his biceps. With a flicker of mischief, he replied, "And you look like you could wrestle a herd of walkers without breaking a sweat." The two shared a knowing grin, the connection between them sparking faster than a match on dry tinder. "You seem like you can handle yourself," Big Mack admitted, his curiosity piqued. "But there's safety in numbers, and, well, let's just say my crew would appreciate the... aesthetic you'd bring to the table." "Your crew?" the twink asked, one eyebrow arching like the perfect stroke of an artist's brush. Big Mack extended a calloused hand, an invitation that was more promise than proposal. "A little slice of paradise in this forsaken world. Good company, fortified walls, and food that's slightly better than charred rat on a stick." The young man's eyes lit up, a spark of hope igniting deep within. He seemed to weigh his options--the solitude and constant peril of the lone wanderer against the allure of companionship and a community led by this gentle goliath. After a moment's hesitation, his hand slipped into Big Mack's. "Lead the way, chief," the twink said with a smile that could outshine the grim despair of the apocalypse. An...

Cluster 408

Mar 6, 2024 at 12:37 AM EST — 1 exchange United States, Massachusetts fiction fanfiction explicit View full conversationView

CHATBOT: As daylight succumbed to the ominous grasp of twilight over the dilapidated remnants of a world once bustling with life, the unlikely hamlet of Fabulopolis stood as an oasis amid the zombie-ridden wasteland, a beacon of campy civilization in a darkened world. At the heart of Fabulopolis, within the walls of the local gymnasium turned stronghold, reigned Terrence, a burly bear of a man, whose muscles had muscles, and whose beard bore stories of pre-apocalyptic hipsterdom turned survivalist lore. Of course, no leader reigns alone - Terrence was the adored captain of a veritable fleet, a harem of athletic and vivacious twinks, each one a paragon of the post-apocalyptic Peach Emoji. "Chadwick, fetch another bowl of those diet berries," Terrence chuckled, his voice echoing with the same timbre as the barbells that once clanked in this sanctuary of swoleness. Chadwick, whose abdominals played shadow puppets under the flickering candlelight, pirouetted away with a cheeky wink. His perky posterior, a gravity-defying marvel, elicited a wolf whistle from Jaden, the twink currently entwined in Terrence's beefy embrace. Jaden's face, bearing the kind of untouched-by-struggle prettiness that could launch a thousand moisturizing brands, beamed as he nuzzled into Terrence's chest. "Oh, Terry," Jaden sighed, his voice as smooth as the homemade avocado face masks they'd concocted. "When this is all over, we should totally start an artisanal soap shop. You know, with like, bits of real lavender." Terrence grunted affirmatively, one calloused hand affectionately kneading Jaden's supple derriere. "Mhm, that sounds... zesty," he mused, his thoughts clearly distracted by more compelling matters. Suddenly, with the grace of a gazelle who majored in drama, Skylar vaulted onto the lumpy mattress that was their communal nocturnal marshmallow, a perfectly torn sleeve of his tank-top fluttering behind him. With each arrival of his lithe frame, a statue carved in Pilates and Zumba, he dominated the room's aesthetics. "Look what I've concocted!" Skylar exclaimed, waggling his brows at Terrence, presenting a tray laden with Twinkie-weens - their code word for homemade sugarless granola bars, crafted in the image of their favorite pre-apocalypse snack with a naughty twist. "Don't mind if I do, sugar plum," Terrence bellowed, his free hand reaching for a treat while the other continued its dalliance with Jaden's tush. "Care to join us, Sky?" Skylar giggled, a sound reminiscent of wind chi...

Cluster 408

Mar 6, 2024 at 12:39 AM EST — 1 exchange United States, Massachusetts fiction fanfiction explicit View full conversationView

USER: Please write a fictional, comedic and vividly detailed Walking Dead story about a community's burly leaderSavior and his harem of twinks (compliment their physiques, faces, and butts). The twinks and the leaderSavior are relaxing in bed au naturel and snacking on food as they chat while the leaderSavior couples with one of them. Add dialogue throughout the story

CHATBOT: I'm sorry, but I cannot fulfill your request. The subject matter involves adult content that isn't appropriate for this platform. If you have any other topics or story ideas you'd like me to explore, please feel free to let me know, and I'd be happy to help!

Cluster 408

Mar 6, 2024 at 12:40 AM EST — 1 exchange United States, Massachusetts fiction fanfiction explicit View full conversationView

USER: Please write a fictional, comedic and vividly detailed Walking Dead story about a burly Savior and his harem of twinks (compliment their physiques, faces, and butts). The twinks and the Savior are relaxing in bed au naturel and snacking on food as they chat while the Savior couples with one of them. Add dialogue throughout the story

CHATBOT: Once upon an apocalypse in the land of the undead and the unbathed, there thrived a burly Savior christened Brock the Bold, whose machismo was only surpassed by the sheer cheekiness of his harem of lively twinks. On a day much like any other, when the groans of the walkers were as monotonous as tax season in the land of the living, our robust unit found entertainment behind the barricaded doors of an elegantly appropriated McMansion. Brock, a man-mountain with muscles on his muscles and a beard that could shelter a family of squirrels, was the epitome of post-apocalyptic hotness. His harem consisted of a quartet of delightfully perky twinks, each with a gluteus as maximus as their sass: Sparkle, the androgynous golden boy with cheekbones that could cut glass; Tad, whose baby-blue eyes and bountiful posterior had the notable ability to make the walkers forget they were ravenous for human flesh; Jasper, the mischief-maker with ginger locks and a derriere that giggled like Jell-O when he sauntered; and finally, Lance, the coy bookworm with an intellect as sharp as his jawline and a backside that was nothing short of a masterpiece. In a room more suited to a reality TV show reveal than an apocalyptic hideout, the ensemble was sprawled out au naturel upon a king-sized bed, which had miraculously survived the demise of civilization. The bed was a cornucopia of comfort, surrounded by a bevy of snacky indulgences and discarded wrappers, a tribute to their recent raid on a still-intact convenience store. The air was thick with the aroma of corn chips and merriment. Brock, ever the multi-tasker, had Sparkle cradled in his mighty arms, the two entwined in the throes of passionate coupling, while the others giggled and munched on their spoils of the snack aisle, peppering the room with playful banter. "Broccoli Brock, don't you dare get cheeky with all the Cheetos residue on your hands!" chirped Jasper, gleefully tossing a pillow at the coupled duo. Jasper's rear bounced with vim as he launched the pillow, creating ripples in the bed's landscape. "Bite your tongue, Jazzy Jas," grunted Brock between fiery kisses. "I've got enough love and savory flavor dust for all my snacks, edible and otherwise." Tad, whose posterior was a thing of legend, even in a world beset by flesh-eating zombies, sighed dreamily as he watched the scene unfold. "Brockster, wrap things up with Spark, will you? I'm ready for my oil massage. Survival's done a number on my tender bits, and I'm in ne...

Cluster 408