User eb5468a568cf... - 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...

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... primary

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 4 conversations in story permutation C474× “Make a vividly detailed and comedic Greek Mythology story ab...” over 9 minutes (Mar 9, 2024 – Mar 9, 2024), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Mar 9, 2024 at 5:26 PM EST — 1 exchange United States, Massachusetts fiction View full conversationView

USER: Make a vividly detailed and comedic Greek Mythology story about a Greek citizen hiking in the woods stumbling upon a beautiful, frail twink, who is au naturel, and can only speak in meows

CHATBOT: Once upon a time, in the ancient land of Greece, beyond the bustling agora and past the marble-columned temples echoing with the chants of augurs, there lay a series of woods, mysterious and old as the gods themselves. Deep within these woods, where the olive trees whispered ancient secrets and the air was thick with the spells of nymphs, there lived a peculiar young creature known among the satyrs and dryads as Meowdysseus, the meowing twink. Legend had it that Meowdysseus was once a talkative young bard, favored by Apollo, with a voice as clear as the Pythia's prophecies. However, in a twist of fate that only mischief-maker Eris could have concocted, he offended the goddess Hera with an ill-conceived ode comparing her to a common housecat. In retaliation, she cursed him to be as beautiful and frail as a moonbeam but eternalized his faux pas by limiting his speech to an endless stream of melodic meows. Our tale begins with Stelios, a lively Greek citizen with legs as sturdy as Hercules' and a curiosity as insatiable as Pandora's, who decided to venture into the woods. Equipped with nothing but his trusty walking staff, a loaf of day-old bread, and a wineskin, Stelios embarked on a hike to explore nature, and perhaps to find the inspiration the poets spoke of so fervently. As he hiked, he stuck to a path that wound past gnarled oaks and through fragrant fields of wild thyme. The sun was a chariot of fire in the sky, and the chorus of cicadas sang around him. Then, just as he began to contemplate the possibility of turning back, he stumbled upon a clearing that was silent but for the gentle rustle of the leaves. There, in the center of the clearing and bathed in a shaft of light that seemed to pour down from Mount Olympus itself, lay a young and strangely captivating figure. He was as beautiful as Ganymede, with curls that rivaled those of Apollo, and he was au naturel, his skin a canvas displaying the very artistry of Aphrodite. The young man looked up at Stelios with eyes of sapphire, and to Stelios' amazement, he let out a delicate "Meow." Momentarily puzzled, Stelios replied, "Ah, greetings, young traveler. Are you in need of assistance?" However, his words were met with a series of purring meows, each more melodic and enigmatic than the last. Only able to converse in meows, Meowdysseus expressed his life in the woods - a symphony of purrs, mews, and hisses that told of moonlit dances with the fauns and whispered gossip with the forest mice. He meowed o...

Cluster 474

Mar 9, 2024 at 5:30 PM EST — 3 exchanges United States, Massachusetts fiction explicit toxic View full conversationView

USER: Make a vividly detailed and comedic Greek Mythology story about a Greek citizen hiking in the woods stumbling upon a beautiful, frail twink, who is au naturel, and acts like a cat and can only speak in meows

CHATBOT: In the land where the olive trees dance with the gentle breath of the Aeolian winds, there lived a robust and somewhat overconfident Greek citizen named Philocrates. He was known throughout the village of Smirnakos for his penchant for adventure and, on occasion, his spectacular misjudgments. One day, with an insatiable itch for adventure, Philocrates set out for a hike in the famed whispering woods of Phelineon, armed with nothing but a wineskin, a loaf of bread, and the misguided belief that his sense of direction was infallible. As Philocrates delved deeper into the forest, the trees grew taller, and the paths grew wilder. He came upon an ancient clearing, where the sun poured through the canopy like honey and the air was thick with the perfume of unknown flowers. In the midst of this paradisiacal clearing, Philocrates was suddenly struck dumb with astonishment. Before him, upon a bed of moss and dappled sunlight, lay the most beautiful and otherworldly creature: a frail twink so perfectly formed that even Adonis himself would have blushed with envy. The creature's skin was the hue of alabaster, and he possessed an ethereal grace that suggested he was not of mortal ilk. Like a vision from Olympus, the fair being was au naturel, draped only in the shade of an obliging oak tree. Sultry yet unnervingly innocent eyes gazed upon Philocrates with a mix of curiosity and mischief. Philocrates, now entirely forgetting the generous swigs he'd taken from his wineskin, could only muster a bashful, "Erm, hello?" To his utter disbelief, the reply that echoed through the clearing was not of words, but an array of delicate "meows" that punctuated the silence as would the strings of Eros' own lyre. Fascinated and slightly befuddled, Philocrates watched as the creature stretched languorously, revealing a suppleness that rivaled that of an Olympic gymnast, and hopped to his feet with the lightness of zephyr caresses. With an otherworldly elegance, the nubile nymph began to prance and frolic around Philocrates, batting at floating dandelions and occasionally pausing to groom himself with his hands in an alarmingly feline fashion. Determined not to let this marvel escape his comprehension, Philocrates racked his brain for knowledge from his limited education in the myths and legends of his own culture. Surely this had to be the handiwork of some capricious god! Could he be in the presence of Dionysus' latest fancy, or was this Prometheus's wayward design, molded on an unusu...

CHATBOT: In our tale, Philocrates, who has left the enchanted woods of the divine twink, now finds himself ensnared by a relentless curiosity that gnaws at him with the insistence of a hungry goat. Even as the days passed in the comforting mundanity of Smirnakos, where men argued over draughts and olives, and women gossiped as looms clacked rhythmically, Philocrates could not shake the striking image of the cat-like twink from his mind. Whispers and half-forgotten stories of Asclepius, the god of medicine, filled his thoughts. If anyone held the power to unravel this feline enigma, it would surely be the deity with the serpent-entwined staff. Armed with a growing resolve and the undying optimism that characterised the heroes of old, Philocrates decided to consult the oracle of Delphi, for no quest of great import could truly begin without the cryptic wisdom of the Pythia. After arduous days of travel that tested both the soles of his sandals and his patience, Philocrates arrived at the navel of the world. The scent of incense and the soft murmurs of supplicants swirled around him as he approached the temple. He came before the oracle, whose cryptic voice spoke thus: "Seek the herb of Hekate's favor, beneath the moon's silver sliver. With feline's gaze and patience long, sing to the heavens nature's song." Perplexed yet fiercely determined, Philocrates sought the wisdom of a local herb woman known for her dealings with the mystical. Together, they surmised the riddle spoke of catnip, the herb with the power to entrance even the most sovereign of cats. Its properties were shrouded in mystery, but if anyone could invoke the magic needed to unlock the cat-like twink's lips, it would be Philocrates with a heart as lionhearted as Hercules himself. Once more, Philocrates journeyed to the woods of Phelineon, under the milky gaze of the moon. He found the twink under the same sprawling oak, preening in the moonlight with all the grace of Selene's chariot horses. Holding out the fragrant herb, Philocrates sang a hymn to Artemis, protector of the wild, hoping she might guide his endeavor. The twink's eyes widened with feral delight as the scent of the catnip filled the air. He pounced upon the offering, rolling and tumbling with joy. Philocrates waited with bated breath for a miracle, but alas, the only change was a new fervor in the twink's purrs and meows. In the end, perhaps it was not the twink who needed curing, but Philocrates who needed to learn the timeless lesson of ...

Cluster 474

Mar 9, 2024 at 5:31 PM EST — 1 exchange United States, Massachusetts fiction explicit View full conversationView

CHATBOT: Once upon a time in ancient Greece, there was a young and rather hapless man named Pheidippides--not the famous marathon-runner, mind you, but a distant and far less impressive cousin. Pheidippides was known throughout his village of Letheopolis for his uncanny ability to wander into the most absurd and unfortunate situations. His mother often chided him, saying that if there was a hole to fall into or a fruit to slip on, Pheidippides would find it with the certainty of Apollo's chariot rising with the sun. One particularly clear and crisp morning, Pheidippides decided it was the perfect day to go for a hike in the densely wooded groves outside Letheopolis. He donned his sturdiest sandals, the ones with only two previous repairs, and set out with a spring in his gait that suggested optimism unspoiled by any foreknowledge of impending doom. As Pheidippides traipsed between the branches and over the roots, enjoying the sounds of birds and the distant trickling of a stream, little did he know that fate had planned an encounter most peculiar for him. Suddenly, in a clearing bathed by the light of Helios, Pheidippides stopped short, struck by the sight that beheld his dumbstruck eyes. There, amongst the wildflowers and nymph-kissed greenery, stood a figure so beautiful, so delicate, and so exceptionally... nude. It was as if Eros himself had fashioned this twink from the stars and wrapped his luminescence in nothing but the air of the forest. Pheidippides felt both the heat of blush and the chill of awe as he stammered "By Zeus's thunderous voice, who are you?" The figure turned with a grace that would have made any Siren green with envy and spoke with a voice mellifluous as a lyre's melody, "I am Calliston, beloved of the woods, embraced by Artemis herself, and you, mortal, have stumbled upon my sanctuary." Now, Calliston's voice had all the enchantments of the finest poetry and it fluttered around Pheidippides' mind like Psyche in the palace of Cupid; however, it did nothing to alleviate the awkwardness of the encounter. In an effort to salvage what little dignity was left in the situation, Pheidippides tried to fashion his cloak into a makeshift toga for Calliston. As he fumbled with the cloth, clumsy as a cyclops in a pottery shop, the trees erupted with laughter. Nymphs and satyrs had been watching the amusing display, chortling at the befuddled mortal trying to clothe their ethereal companion. Even a passing Hermes had to pause to chuckle before resuming ...

Cluster 474

Mar 9, 2024 at 5:36 PM EST — 1 exchange United States, Massachusetts fiction explicit View full conversationView

USER: Make a vividly detailed and comedic Greek Mythology story about a Greek citizen hiking in the woods stumbling upon a beautiful, frail twink, who is au naturel.naturel and shivering

CHATBOT: Once upon a time, in ancient Greece, there was a rather eccentric and adventurous citizen named Dorkus, known throughout the city-state of Noodlopolis for his excessive fondness for long, ill-advised strolls in the Enchanted Forest of Bedazzlement. This forest was famous for its magical flora that would bop unsuspecting travelers on the nose and giggle uncontrollably when the full moon shone down on its leaves. One crisp autumn day, as the leaves performed a symphony of crunches beneath his sandals (and occasionally slipped into them, which was both annoying and mildly exfoliating), Dorkus decided to embark on a quest to find the fabled Golden Mushroom of Snootiness, said to grant anyone who nibbled on its cap the ability to look down upon others even if dressed in a sackcloth. With a loaf of olive bread and a skin of the second-cheapest wine (for he was adventurous but not reckless), Dorkus ventured into the depths of the forest. After several hours of getting lovingly smacked by branches and serenaded by harmoniously hooting owls who were frankly off-key, Dorkus stumbled upon a clearing where the sun's rays lazily danced around, seemingly taking a break from their busy schedule. In the midst of this dappled sunlight, Dorkus caught sight of a sight so rare, it might have been a figment of his imagination fueled by fermented grape juice. There stood--or rather, shivered--a beautiful yet frail twink who was as au naturel as the day he was born, which apparently was a day when all the clothes had run away to some textile convention. The twink's teeth chattered in harmony with the leaves, and his shivers sent ripples throughout the air, making the whole clearing look like it was in a chill-induced shockwave. His skin, whiter than the feta cheese that Dorkus so dearly loved, bore goosebumps that collectively could've rivaled the size of Mount Olympus. Overcome with compassion (and trying his best not to gawk), Dorkus whipped off his oversized toga, embroidered with scenes of himself getting lost, and draped it around the shoulders of the twink, who blinked with the slow-motion surprise of a sloth receiving a love confession. "Pray tell, young man," Dorkus stammered, "why do you frolic in the nude amidst this nippy nature?" The twink sniffled, rubbing his arms vigorously beneath the toga. "I am Eros, victim of the most heinous and villainous prank by my mischievous brother, Anteros," he spoke between shivers. "He has bewitched my garments to fly away every time...

Cluster 474