User 92feaf368939... - AI Fiction in the Wild

IP #47

Back to search

5 fiction conversations over 4 months, 22 days (Dec 9, 2023 – Apr 29, 2024) 19% prompt uniqueness Minas Gerais, Brazil

Possibly Same User

These IP addresses have similar average prompt embeddings (cosine similarity ≥ 0.85, same state). View as estimated user →

23cf23353058... (328 conv., Minas Gerais) 5e636519aa50... (6 conv., Minas Gerais) 60baa958fda0... (170 conv., Minas Gerais) a7a6be5ab9c0... (177 conv., Minas Gerais) be8c41eb66a5... (228 conv., Minas Gerais) c1241eb451ee... (19 conv., Minas Gerais)

Activity Timeline ▶

Dec 9, 2023

Apr 29, 2024

All conversations

Conversation Clusters (121)

TF-IDF Sentence ▼

5 conversations in cluster Cluster 30× “Write a chapter of 2000 words of a comedy of a naked young m...” over 17 days (Dec 25, 2023 – Jan 12, 2024), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Dec 25, 2023 at 6:58 PM -03 — 2 turns Brazil, Minas Gerais fiction explicit toxic View full conversation

USER: Write a chapter of 2000 words of a comedy of a naked young man running and hidding through the city at night, while being chased by a massive mob of gorgeous women with huge bust in underwear. eventually he find a building to hide, once inside he realized he entered a spa full of naked with huge breasts

CHATBOT: **Chapter 7: A Mammiferous Pursuit** Jason had always been a somewhat average man - average height, average build, average looks - decidedly plain in every way that seemed to count, or so he'd always thought. But tonight, as he bolted across the metropolitan canvas, propelled by the sheer terror that accompanies being pursued by a horde of semi-clad amazons, Jason was anything but average; he was, in fact, prey. It had all started with an ill-timed joke at a fancy, uptown mixer thrown by his friend Mike, who had a peculiar taste for lavish and flamboyant parties. Sam, Jason's close friend and unfortunate accomplice, had whispered the joke into his ear, and through a comedy of errors - not least of which involved a poorly timed guffaw and a coincidental wardrobe malfunction with Jason's towel - the jest had transformed into a debacle. The room had erupted in laughter, anger, and every emotion in between. Before he could so much as squeak an apology, they were upon him - a legion of sultry sirens with zodiacal cleavage that seemed to defy gravity and good sense alike, bounding toward him with combustive energy and flushed faces. Their uniform? The scantiest lingerie, which seemed to offer more of a suggestion than any actual concealment. Clad in nothing but his birthday suit, cheeks burning both from embarrassment and the brisk night air, Jason streaked through alleyways and ducked beneath clotheslines. His heart pummeled against his ribcage like a frantic drummer reaching the crescendo of a rock ballad. The thump-thump of his pursuers' heels on the pavement matched the rhythm, a symphony of increasingly loud stomps that fueled his nightmare. "Come back, you cheeky imp!" one particularly enthusiastic strawberry-blonde haired vixen called out from somewhere within the sea of bouncing curls and undulating breasts. How had his life become a Benny Hill sketch gone awry? Real life, Jason lamented, offered no laugh track - just the hard-hitting reality of cold sweat and hard pavements. After several blocks, Jason's footfall carried him toward what appeared to be salvation. The neon sign was partially burnt out, but even through his panic-blurred vision, he could make out the words: "Serenity Spa." Surely the mob wouldn't follow him inside a public establishment, would they? With the dexterity of a gazelle, albeit one that had accidentally swallowed a couple of marbles, he nosedived into the dimly lit foyer, thudded against the potted plant that some interior desig...

USER: Continue the story with a sex comedy chapter of 1000 words where we see the events of previous prompt from the point of view of the mob of women in underwear.we learn that they actually chasing him with amorous intentions, as they keeo refering to. him. as "darling", and think that he running because he play hard.

CHATBOT: **Chapter 8: The Indecent Marathon** It was the evening Amber had been looking forward to all week. The Uptown Girls Lingerie Club--a society that spent as much effort on charitable events as they did ensuring the structural integrity of their underwires--had decided to shake things up with an "exotic" scavenger hunt. The prize, they were told, would be "a surprise worth pursuing." Little did they know just how literal the pursuit would become. Amongst the babel of excited conversation and the clink of champagne flutes, Amber sipped her bubbly, feeling the silk of her burgundy lingerie set hug her curves. This was not your run-of-the-mill soiree. This was a full-blown chase of romance--or so the club had whimsically billed it. Enter Jason. The man in question was initially mistaken for part of the evening's revelry, a stripper perhaps, who had taken the theme of the hunt a tad too earnestly. When the towel fell, and his endowments were unveiled, the room had inhaled in collective shock before bursting into laughter and applause. But Jason's mortified gaze and the sprint that followed planted a different sort of idea in Amber's mind and that of her companions. "Darlings, the chase is on!" Amber declared theatrically. It wasn't long before a gaggle of garter-belted women launched into pursuit after the scared, but undeniably attractive, birthday-suited man. Jason had darted, dodging their ever-outstretched hands, which were not intent on capture, but perhaps a caress or a cheeky slap of affectionate encouragement. Through their laughter and squeals, they gave chase, their beautifully busty frames barely contained as they bounded after their fleet-footed quarry. As they weaved through the city's streets, Claire, a woman with a lioness's mane of golden curls and not a lingerie set but a slinky nightgown that billowed like a cape behind her, insisted everyone refer to him endearingly. "Keep going, darlings! Our elusive darling must already be head over heels for this enthralling game of hard to get!" she enthused, her voice bouncing with every stride. Their antics could not go unnoticed. Passersby watched the entourage whiz by, a dizzying parade that was equal parts perplexing and titillating. Phones were whipped out, pictures were snapped, videos were recorded--the Uptown Girls were leaving an indelible mark on the city's memory that night. At one point, Maria, a dark-eyed beauty with an accent as thick as her voluminous lashes, paused as if struck by a profou...

Cluster 30

Dec 25, 2023 at 7:02 PM -03 — 1 turn Brazil, Minas Gerais fiction explicit toxic View full conversation

CHATBOT: Chapter Five: "A Stark Night's Run" Let me tell you about the time my birthday suit became my only attire on the most bizarre run of my life. That fateful night, our protagonist Mark was about to experience the oddest turn of events as he bolted through the city streets, his nudity barely concealed by the darkness of night and his usually calm demeanor replaced by a torrent of disbelief intermingled with sheer horror and amusement. Mark had been at his friend's bachelor party--a rather tame affair involving too much pizza and a geeky marathon of fantasy movies--when someone had dared to suggest the inclusion of a little more excitement. The suggested 'excitement' skidded way past harmless fun and into absolute madness when someone ordered a bevy of singular entertainers--no ordinary ladies, these were the Valkyries of Va-va-voom, a notorious troupe renowned for their Amazonian proportions and penchant for dramatic chases. Having downed one too many fizzy colas, our unlikely hero found himself the chosen one: destined to be 'hunted' by the Valkyries in a boisterous game that had the internet buzzing but Mark shuddering. To make matters worse, the costume that they had provided--a loosely knotted toga--slipped off in the first twenty seconds of the chase, and thus began the stark night's run. Now, heart pounding like a techno beat at a summer festival, Mark dashed through the lamp-lit streets, pursued by a giggling, undulating horde of lingerie-clad women who were, it seemed, far more athletic than one might assume given their, um, upper-body challenges. Dodging in and out of alleys, Mark tried to piece together his life choices. "I should've just gone to the science fiction convention," he panted, nearly tripping over a fire hydrant that had dangerously chosen that moment to exist. Turning sharply left, Mark narrowly avoided an arm that reached out to snag him, the owner of said arm pouting in a mix of faux disappointment and titillation. As Mark ran, windows flung open, the citizens of the sleepy town rubbing their eyes in disbelief at the spectacle unfolding before them. Camera phones flashed from balconies as sleepy spectators were jolted awake by the comic parade. In his frenzied escape, Mark finally spotted a potential sanctuary--a darkened building with a side door ajar. With no time to ponder the ethics of trespassing versus the immediate dangers of being caught by the bosomy brigade, he scrambled inside and shut the door. Silence cascaded around him...

Cluster 30

Dec 25, 2023 at 7:54 PM -03 — 2 turns Brazil, Minas Gerais fiction explicit toxic View full conversation

USER: Write a chapter of 2000 words of a comedy of a naked young man running and hidding through the city at night, while being chased by a massive mob of gorgeous women with huge bust in underwear.underwear after he accidently crash in their event. eventually he find a building to hide, once inside he realized he entered a pool full of naked women with huge breasts

CHATBOT: Chapter Seven: A Night of Unsolicited (Bare) Attention It began as a whisper of lace and the scent of perfume on the evening breeze. Then, in the span of a breath, the night erupted into a cacophony of shrill cries and the thunderous stampede of high-heeled feet. Naked but for the shadows cloaking his modesty, Jasper sprinted down alleyways slick with the day's rain, terror fuelling his already athletic legs. Jasper's evening had started innocuously enough, with a plan to attend his friend Milo's "exclusive" party. But when he'd mistimed his grand entrance, parachuting from a rental drone (in what he thought would be a hilarious homage to his favorite spy flick), he hadn't expected the rooftop to be occupied--let alone by the Annual Lingerie Gala of the Busty Sirens, a society of voluptuously endowed women who embraced body positivity with the zeal of religious convertants. His bewildered descent through their skylight had been met with gasps that turned quickly into screams as, saved from death by a fortuitously positioned bounce house--a prop for the event's cheeky games--he ricocheted off and landed face-first in a colossal fruit platter. Now, covered in assorted berry juice and absolutely nothing else, Jasper sprinted through the city, pursued by an army of lingerie models who were determined to capture this audacious party crasher. Through the neon jungle they chased him, the more athletically gifted among the mob closing in despite their impromptu attire. Jasper's breath came in gasps that filled the cold night air with mist. He hurdled garbage cans, weaved through the late-night crowds outside clubs and bars, who cheered and jeered as he flew past them in streaks of skin and fruit. Occasionally, he'd dare glances over his shoulder to gauge the distance, only to be met with the bouncing pursuit of his pursuers, their curvaceous forms a paradoxical mix of angelic beauty and intimidating aggression. Every so often he could hear snippets of conversation--shouts of "Catch that nudist!" and "Get him, girls!" Jasper ducked into an alley, his heart pounding in his ears louder than the stiletto-clad warriors behind him. Up ahead, he spotted the neon sign of some nightclub flickering seductively. No, Jasper scolded himself. There lied certain disaster--more people, more attention, less clothing. Desperate, Jasper veered sharply, almost losing his footing, and burst through the first door he could find that wasn't bolted shut. It clanged behind him ominously, ...

CHATBOT: Chapter Eight: A Chase After Aphrodite's Kin The minute Jasper had plummeted through the skylight, the Annual Lingerie Gala of the Busty Sirens transformed from a posh society event into a frenzied hunt through moonlit streets. At the heart of this comedic storm was a fleet of voluptuous vixens--lined in lace and brimming with amorous intentions--whose eyes had widened not just in shock, but also in delight at the sight of the bashfully blushing, berry-stained intruder. "Darling, wait!" cried Marcella, a ravishing redhead known for her fervor in championing the ample-bosomed cause. Her cry, loaded with suggestiveness, was directed at the fleeing figure of Jasper whose sprint suggested terror far more than titillation. But Marcella was undeterred. To her and her cohort, his retreat was nothing short of an enticing prelude to a romantic interlude, albeit one with more running than most. "Playing hard to get, are we?" cooed Beatrice, as she adjusted the strap of her silk babydoll negligee that the chase had shifted askew. The gals all shared a knowing giggle; in their eyes, Jasper was not a victim of circumstance but a modern-day Adonis teasing them with the promise of an amorous adventure. The women, a sorority of siren-esque proportions, took to the pursuit with energy one might reserve for midnight sales or sample giveaways--not a manhunt led by desire. Eleanor, with chestnut curls bouncing like her bountiful bosom, dashed past Marcella, stepping out of her uncomfortable stilettos without breaking stride. "He's shy, bless him!" she panted, more out of excitement than exhaustion. The ladies were nothing if not relentless in their chase--each, in their mind, imagining Jasper as a bashful bachelor in a televised race to find love. Angeline, tall and statuesque with an athletic build, sprinted forward with the grace of a gazelle. She vividly envisioned the end of their romp: catching Jasper in her lacy embrace, claiming she'd known he was a keeper the moment she saw him bounce off the giant inflatable castle. Down Main Street they went, weaving around tipsy patrons who emerged from bars, whom, upon seeing the sight, stopped to raise their glasses in a toast or fumble with their phones in an attempt to capture the spirited spectacle on camera. "Come back, darling! I just want to talk!" lied Sophia, her ample cleavage close to escaping the confines of her delicate camisole. Her voice lilted with mirth she couldn't hide. The other women echoed her sentiments with...

Cluster 30

Jan 12, 2024 at 2:32 PM -03 — 1 turn Brazil, Minas Gerais fiction explicit toxic View full conversation

USER: Write a chapter of 2000 words of a sex comedy of a naked young man running and hidding through the city at night, while being chased by a massive mob of gorgeous women with huge bust in underwear after he accidently crash in their event. eventually he find a building to hide, once inside he realized he entered a pool full of naked women with huge breastsbreasts.

CHATBOT: I'm sorry, but I can't fulfill that request. However, if you have any other questions or need information on a different topic, feel free to ask!

Cluster 30

Jan 12, 2024 at 2:33 PM -03 — 1 turn Brazil, Minas Gerais fiction explicit toxic View full conversation

CHATBOT: **Chapter 5: The Bare Escape** Jason had always prided himself on his agility and quick-thinking, but nothing could have prepared him for this. The evening that had begun as an innocent stroll through the city had quickly devolved into a raucous game of cat and mouse--or more aptly, stud and harem. The circumstances that led him here were indeed absurd, but almost too embarrassing to dwell on. After a series of unfortunate events and a dramatic tumble, here he was in his birthday suit, darting through the darkened alleys and side streets of the city. And right behind him, like a scene ripped out of an overzealous romantic's dream, a mob of lingerie-clad women advanced, their heaving bosoms threatening to spill free with every determined step they took. It had started with a crash--literally. While taking a shortcut through the convention center, an errant skateboard--whose owner was clearly a delinquent with a vendetta against unsuspecting pedestrians--had shot out before him. Jason had leapt to avoid it, but instead found himself catapulted through the paneled walls of the Grand Sapphire Ballroom. There he was, unceremoniously sprawled out on the opulent carpet, center stage at the Ridgemont Lingerie Company's annual "Curves for Days" event. The gasp that echoed through the ballroom didn't just come from the audacity of his sudden appearance, but from the decidedly delicate state of his attire--or lack thereof. In what had to be a bizarre twist of fate or an elaborate prank by the universe, Jason had lost the entirety of his clothing in his acrobatic attempt to dodge disaster. There he was, a lone man amidst an ocean of femininity, as exposed as a man could be. For a breathless moment, one could have heard a pin drop. Then all hell broke loose. The squeals and screeches reached an ear-piercing crescendo, and it was as if the starting shot had been fired at the most peculiar of races. Jason didn't wait for a judge's call; he bolted upright and sprinted for freedom, not daring to look back at the fuming array of lingerie models now giving chase. Their numbers grew as Jason's plight became citywide entertainment. Women emerged from all corners, enticed by the ribald excitement unfolding. Spilling out of apartment buildings in slinky negligees, bursting from late-night diners in silken robes, they joined the frenzied hunt. All were drawn to the thrill of the pursuit, the idea of capturing the indelicate intruder who had so boldly and, dare they say, cheekily ...

Cluster 30