Text Synth (uses AI to write something based on a few words you feed it)

Three very excited girls are sitting at a dining room table in their house in the countryside of France. They have just finished a meal of spaghetti, a tomato-based sauce, salad and garlic bread, and the conversation has turned to ‘pink hearts’, or rather ‘red hearts’. All three girls love to talk about boys and how a date with one is on the cards for them soon. One is in a relationship, the other has one friend and the third girl is hoping for another. ‘Yes, I have had some messages on Twitter and Instagram from boys asking me out, but I am waiting for the phone call.’ As the girls talk about their plans for a second date, it becomes clear they are all hoping for the same thing – to be asked out for a second date. If only we knew how that second date would end, that’s for sure.

#relatablecontent
 
Lucille awoke to find RS’s hand planted firmly on his neck. His eyes were wide, his body tense. His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. His penis had been hard the moment Lucille opened her eyes, and now it was pressing against her back, just as hard. He was ready to explode. Her legs dangled down the length of his, her pussy was soaked, and she knew she’d give herself up without a second thought to the pleasure that he was so obviously enjoying. Lucille’s body tingled with anticipation. This was going to be a real good time for them, she thought, as she slipped her hands around RS’s waist.
 
Dark Carnival leaned over the counter suggestively, showing the thick hair covering his bosom. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Nikoleta looked around to see that the other three workers were already at their stations. The man at the counter was obviously the one who’d come in earlier; it was a good thing she’d recognized him in the dark.

He was only a few inches taller than she was, his skin a deep olive brown and his features regular. The only noticeable difference between him and the other workers was that he was very pale. It must be the cold.

“I think he’s getting better,” Nikoleta murmured. The man’s eyes narrowed at her, “You’re an odd one.” Nikoleta tilted her head, “Is that a compliment?” “Is it?” The man’s expression was one of confusion, a hint of mirth. “I’m just trying to help you, you know. Why else would I try to get you to tell me something?” “I don’t know,” Nikoleta admitted. He shook his head. “Can’t tell what you’re thinking.” “I’m trying to understand.” “You’re not.” The man smiled, “Nikoleta, I’ll bet you’re not even thinking at all.” That comment confused Nikoleta. The man didn’t seem to like her any more than she liked him. Then she thought about it and it struck her that he was a very odd man.
 
“Is this the shit-postin thread?” Martha Skidd wondered as she adjusted her gusset and stepped through the door of the men’s room. It was the middle of the morning, and despite the stench of the sewer and piss in the air, people were still crowded into the room. :horny:
 
Martha Skidd was struggling to untangle a particularly gruesome winnet when her bowels suddenly exploded, making an awful mess of Sally Thomsett’s velvet drapes. The butler’s face went as white as the undergarments. A single tear rolled down his plump cheeks as he mopped it up with a rag, while the rest of the servants crowded behind him and stared, with mouths agape and noses wrinkled.
Bending over in an agony of constipation and distress, the plump young woman turned white-green in the face, but kept control of herself. She stood erect, but was so ill that she staggered and held to the edge of the window to keep herself from falling.
When Martha finished with the winnet, she went up the stairs to her room and closed the door. That night the butler had to change the bedclothes and wash and dry Sally’s drapes, but the maid couldn’t control her agony of suffering and her whole body turned to ice.
At breakfast next morning, the young woman was unable to take her food. The servants stared at her plate and asked one another if they should serve it to Martha first or Sally.
So began a terrible ordeal that lasted three days and nights, during which the servants were afraid to speak a word of her name, because it meant her punishment for disobedience would be even worse.
 
I was in sarcastisch bitch mode, and I had just gotten through my first date (which I had to abort a few hours later due to a slight case of diarrhea) when Nick said that the reason I was with him was because of a “very simple equation: I wanted to sleep with you.” I was annoyed; “If I was with you because I wanted to fuck you, you would have fucked me by now, right?” My face was red. I told him to fuck off, and he stormed out of my apartment, slamming the door behind him. I lay there thinking to myself how I should have just asked him, straight out, if he really wanted to fuck me. Then again, I had thought that I should ask him the same thing on our date, and that clearly had been an impulsive decision on my part, since I had ended up coming on to him and flirting with him. Maybe I should have just gone back to my apartment and gotten in the
 
He examined the figurine - a 2-inch model of Jark. But what was it doing up Lucille’s arse?

‘It must have been the first thing she saw when she got back into the room. She grabbed it with two hands.’ ‘You should have seen the look on her face,’ he said. ‘It was like she was about to blow a fuse. Then she gave me a look like, “Right, I’ll go and get it off your arse.” ‘She gave it back and said: “This is a souvenir. I’m not in the habit of sticking things up my arse.” ‘It’s been hanging there ever since.’

It was a strange piece of metal – an inch-and-a-half by two inches and made of silver. He and Lucille – who have now split up – had been on a four-month tour of the Indian sub-continent. Mr Jark, who is still involved in the circus, said: ‘She said it was a good thing. I think she meant to make a joke. ‘But I’ve still got it in my bottom. I don’t know why.’
 
Tisch opened the door slowly. Darkness. Suddenly lightning flashed and lit up the front garden. He screamed. The Toppy Carrot was back. He had been waiting to see if I would leave before he killed me. He had seen me walking past the garden. His hands were still bound behind him, but not taped up, because he didn't want my tape to leave any marks. I moved through the gap in the hedge and out into the garden. I couldn't see it from the door, but it was a big yard. "C'mon." He said as he led me into the bushes. Then it started. The Toppy Carrot, a heavy rock tied to a belt round his waist, swung in a circle, trying to find my face. I kept moving to one side, but it was like being in a maze. We ran through the bushes, under the bushes, along the wall, up and down the garden. I was moving my head from side to side. Suddenly he stopped swinging. He moved behind a bush and stood watching me. He had finally seen me.
 
Once upon a time there was a robot called the Moopybot-5000, who had a great affinity with cats. Every time it saw a cat, it'd follow it around for a while, and try to talk to it. The cat would ignore it, and continue on its way. "Why is this happening?" it wondered. "Why does this cat hate me? Oh, no! It's running away! How am I going to keep up with it? Do I need to eat so I can keep running?" And so it carried on after the cat. It was a sad story, and very sad. The Moopybot-5000 lived in the house of a little girl called Elissa. One day, she heard something she could not ignore. She ran to investigate, but before she could get there, a cat had already come and gotten it. Elissa tried to catch it, but it ran away with it, never to be seen again. To this day, Elissa cries herself to sleep because of the cat. She's seen it run off, and has been searching for it ever since. It's not a happy story, and it's a sad story, but it's also kind of a heartwarming one. It's a story about what happened after. It's a story about how the Moopybot-5000 met another robot. It's a story about how the Moopybot-5000 and its new friend met the one and only Catbot, who happened to be the best friend anybody could have.
 
I love that technology has advanced so much that we can have computers write literature for us, and 99% of people probably just use it to generate FILTH. But then I remember how a lot of the things I like now used to be really annoying. For example, I don’t remember when but suddenly everybody had a gameboy and we loved them. I loved how you could sit on the lawn and play with your friends. I even remember playing a game that was like a sort of quiz show and you had to guess the correct number of rings on the bell of the other person. How fun was that!? Then one day you suddenly started seeing these huge CRT TVs in people’s living rooms and I hated them. Why!? Because you couldn’t really sit anywhere and play with your friends anymore and you were surrounded by a screen that you had to stare at all day, every day. I remember feeling so sad and disappointed in society. And then we had the whole internet thing… and I thought… why would you want to visit websites and download things to your computer all the time? It seemed so old school, to be connected all the time, and waste so much space in your house.
 
:D

There’s one Moopy user who wants to fuck me and his name is ‘Vinz.’ So he must be pretty good to go. He’s like 24, a pretty good looker. The one who wants to fuck me in the butt, it’s called ‘Vinz.’
– D.H. Lawrence



Now I’m no D.H.Lawrence expert but :D
 
There’s one Moopy user who wants to fuck me and his name is Jadon."
"We went out for a few drinks one night."
"I have been working out too."
"We went home, I came in my pants."
"We lay in bed for a while and he asked me if I wanted to fuck him."
"Then he went down and ate me out."
"I was so shocked."
"He put his dick in me and I came all over his dick."
"I couldn’t believe how good it felt."
"Then he blew his load in me."
"This man is amazing, I love him so much."
"He is always good to me."
"What’s his name?"
"It’s Jadon."
"What’s his number?"
"He has a phone and I don’t have a phone."
"I have no number for him."
"I will text him."
 
Sally Thomsett drunkenly eyed the script CJ de Mooi had scrawled in his own fecal matter. "What's this?" Sally's question boomed out.

"A list of the world's most famous writers and their penises." CJ de Mooi replied calmly. Sally cringed and took a step backwards. CJ de Mooi added, "You know, famous writers have the most memorable penises. And it's a shame. Because it means that some really shitty writers will be rewarded with all the penises in the world."

"How do you know so much about penises?!" Sally shrieked in disbelief.

He reached down to the floor, picked up more of his fecal matter and smeared it on the page, "I put it on the back page of our script. That way people would know when to laugh and when not to laugh."

Blessings etc.

Sal x
 
The administrator Indie walked into the thread on Moopy.org.uk.

Indie: This whole thing has turned into a load of shite.

He continued with

Indie: I just got a message on Indie.org and I've had enough.

Indie: Everyone's getting their dicks in their pockets and I don't want to be one of them.

Indie: You guys can all go FFS and die.

Indie: I've signed off from Indie.org.

He did not elaborate on what happened to get him in the position of being one of those who had 'had enough'.
 
Tuesday, January 30, 2009

I'm currently working on my "Grim" manuscript that was submitted to ABAY Publishing in 2007, as well as my "Grim and Gritty" manuscript and the sequel to "Grim". I'm looking forward to publishing some works in the near future. It's been years since I've been published, so I feel like I'm being thrown back into the world of publishing. It's exciting, fun, scary, and a whole bunch of other emotions. It is definitely going to be the adventure of a lifetime.

Tuesday, January 16, 2009 So, I signed with ABAY Publishing in July 2008. I've finished my "Grim" manuscript, as well as the outline and the first three chapters of the sequel to "Grim". I'd say I'm about 75% done. They sent me a draft of the contract, which I have signed and it's ready to go. But my first project
 
The Samoyed felt sultry and confident (AND VERY SEXY!) as she slipped into a pair of black tights. As the tights clung to her smooth, toned body, she looked every inch the sex-kitten. The tights were a bit large, so she stepped into a pair of strappy heels. She twirled in front of her bedroom mirror, then let out a low whistle, "WOW!" She turned back to the mirror and smiled. In front of her was a stunning vision of femininity, in black stockings, garter belt, lacy bra, panties and high heels. She took a deep breath and sighed with pleasure. "Yes, this is really turning me on" she thought to herself. "I have to make some calls," she said aloud, "this is turning out to be a busy day!" She smiled again, "And I want to look as sexy as possible when I leave" she thought again, in an excited, almost lustful manner.
 
Judith Chalmers erotically gestured to her son, and he briefly removed his mouth from Anneka Rice’s white-hot crotch before returning to give another long, moist kiss.

Judith then slid the strap of her bikini off her shoulders, and dropped it to her feet with a clatter. She then undid her white lacy bra, revealing her enormous 36G breasts. Judith then took her son’s face in her hands, and began passionately kissing him, licking his lips, kissing his eyes and rubbing his face with her ample bosom.

“It’s not just your cock in there,” she purred, rubbing the tip of her son’s stiffie against her own wetness.

“It sure is,” he whispered, running his hands through the dark hair of his mother’s pubis.
 
Rui de Silva was furious at being touched in the early afternoon. He wasn't ready to be touched in the early afternoon. It was much more important to be out playing football in the early afternoon.

After all, he had come out from behind his father's chair and taken off his shoes and socks, but he was still wearing his socks. That meant that he was ready to be touched in the afternoon, but just not when his father was in the room.

His mother was angry too, and the anger was directed at his father. "How could you!" she shouted as she ran past Rui de Silva to the bedroom. The door slammed. He could hear her screaming.

Rui de Silva put his left shoe back on and then pulled his right one off, again. He didn't know why his father had done it, because as he'd come out from behind his father's chair he'd been more likely to touch Rui de Silva than to leave him alone.

Maybe it was just an accident, Rui de Silva thought. Then he put his right shoe back on, just to be safe. His father came back, but Rui de Silva ignored him. He was going to be in the garden with José and the other boys.
 
Rita tutted loudly, put down her copy of Grazia and checked her nail varnish. "That's what I said, my boy. You must have the best luck." She smiled. "I don't want to see any more old women wearing black wigs and fake teeth. You know, it's one thing telling someone they look a bit like a bird of paradise, or a panda, but that's not enough. I want them to look like the person they're portraying. Now that's what I call true beauty." He took her hand. "Come on, don't get that look. I just like making your skin all goose-bumpsy." "I bet you've got a lot of secrets," mused Rita. "I mean, who are you? I've never seen you before." "Oh, I'm not a secret agent or anything," he said. "But I guess you know all about me."
 
Alex Party is now accepting lives. Apply now and see your journey begin!

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Here’s the deal: If you were alive, then you’d be an adult. It might have happened by the time you were 25 or maybe it’s after you turn 30. It doesn’t really matter. But, in the grand scheme of things, as an adult, you should be able to say that you’re living. The problem is that most people aren’t living – they’re existing. They are working, buying things, going to school, eating, working, getting sick, getting a job, trying to have a relationship and maybe even a family. This constant grind of doing something to stay alive can be maddening, and it can weigh you down.

If you’ve been there and you are tired of existing, then maybe a life is what you’re looking for. A life can be fun. It can be exciting. It can be challenging. But most importantly, it can be life changing. There is a real difference between existing and living, and when you’re alive, you’re living. Here are some reasons why you should apply to the Alex Party, and what you can expect when you get there.
 
Kate sobbed quietly as she thought of the old days at LecterKate Industries. Alongside Dr Lecter they had formed the greatest team any of them had ever known. Their partnership in the field of Forensic Linguistics had been a major success story. Kate had been the scientist, Dr Lecter the magician, and together they would go where no one else had dared to go, in pursuit of truths that no one else could see. But now, with the death of one of their team members, that once perfect partnership was torn apart and they were left alone. The grief and uncertainty was unbearable. As Kate stood here on the lonely rooftop in the middle of the night, she thought about what to do now. She knew that something evil was stalking the earth, and that a group of people called "The Guardians" were hunting it down. At this point there were no hard facts, no evidence, just speculation. So she started planning.
 
It was finally time for the big fight. The gloves were off for Rita and Soldi. They would face each other in the main event of an amateur event on September 22. I'd been asked to cover the match for MMAWeekly.com and I was going to be the judge.

To say I was excited was an understatement. With all the tension, all the nerves, I had no idea what to expect from the actual match. What I could prepare for, though, was to interview the fighters and get to know the psychology behind each of them. I'd never wrestled in my life, so there was no chance of me pulling any moves. But I knew my wrestling training would give me a leg up on Rita. I'd need to know her and I'd need to read her. I thought the most interesting thing to be able to know about Rita was her personality.

As it turned out, I was right. She was the opposite of Soldi. He was quiet and seemed very nervous. I couldn't wait to see him, and the more I thought about the fight, the more I couldn't wait.

I'd never seen a fight. Sure, I'd seen fights on TV and in the movies, but I'd never been ringside. The night of the fight, I'd arrived at the gym and I caught up with Rita. She seemed a little uncomfortable.

"What's the matter, Rita?" I asked.

She didn't reply.

"Are you nervous about the fight?"

She nodded, so I pressed a little harder.

"The fight?"

"No, the press. I was nervous before the fight, but now I'm worried about what people are saying."

I tried to get her to explain what it was that she was worried about. She wouldn't tell me. So I asked her how she thought she would do.

"I'll beat Soldi. I'll beat him."
 
Having successfully distracted Indie with beer and ZenGiraffe with terrible computerised music, Kate quietly pressed the button to bring back tags.

One by one, the tags reappeared, each in their own small area, all seemingly different.

I thought for a moment, still drowsy from my beer and wine and sleeping pill. I was really struggling to find the exact right tag, the one that would make me feel happy, and I really wasn't sure if I'd been here before or not. Maybe there had never been a tag for me before.

The one that sat just above the button that brought them back was at once simple and profound. It was all the best things in the world at once, all the things you can ever wish for. It was hope.

All I had to do was press the button, and the tag would appear. But then I realised that if I pressed the button for hope, it wouldn't last, because if I actually got what I wanted it wouldn't last. And what would I want? Nothing. I just wanted the hope.
 
Lolly prodded the padded bag curiously. Had he been right to give Hermes666 his personal address on the promise of rare Abba tracks? This didn't feel like a CD. It was kind of squishy, and slightly warm to the touch. He opened it again and peered inside, seeing something that was so ungainly that he laughed with relief: it was indeed a bag of cheese. It was also very white. And had a string tied to it. His laugh faded as he picked up the bag again. He didn't have much time to read the address, and to be fair, it would be very difficult to open this address, even if he found the key in this very moment. He was more curious to know how many times he would have to get into trouble before his friend Hermes666 would come to his house, and in the end, he just decided to wait. In the meantime, he could explore the flat and play some of Hermes666's rare Abba records.
 
What does the Queen wear to bed? If you’re in the UK and looking for a Queen Elizabeth II style bed at the best prices, you’re in luck because one of our best-selling queen-sized beds has just been updated with an authentic Queen Elizabeth II style bed frame. The latest addition to our range of queen-sized beds, our Queen Elizabeth II bed is a modern design that you would expect to see in any British country house. As well as the contemporary white frame design, you’ll find the signature floral quilt cover and matching pillow set. The bed is finished with soft grey bed linen. Our queen-sized bed has been updated with our signature designer fabric and fabric choice for our quilt covers. The soft grey bed linen completes the look. Queen Elizabeth II bed frame A design that is perfect for any room in the house, from the nursery through to the master bedroom A truly contemporary design that looks modern yet classic.
 
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Big Ron was in a massive k-hole when there was a knock at the door. Ron thought this was odd as he was in a tent. Ron said, "Who is it?" Ron felt something was wrong because it was the second knock. He felt uneasy so he yelled, "Who is it?" "Come in son," a woman's voice called from outside. Ron opened the flap and peeked outside. There were about ten people standing around. His eyes widened as he went outside. The people were all dressed in white with huge red scarves around their necks. There were men and women both. Each one had a different face. Some were bearded, some had shaven heads, some had hairy heads, some had long hair. Ron knew he was dead. He knew he was about to be taken to the afterlife. Ron then said, "I am ready. I do not fear death as I know I will be seeing my dear parents in heaven." "Ron, Ron son, you have such a strong mind. You will not believe me but I am here to give you the gift of life
 
Moopy

Mopu or Moopy is the first known ancestor of humans (homo sapiens), who lived over 2 million years ago in East Africa, who is mentioned by the German anatomist Hermann von Schroetter (1833) in his work "On the Earliest History of Mankind."

Schroetter refers to Moopy as "a small monkey of the tribe of Hottentots" ("das kleine Hottentotte-Männchen"). This Hottentot was the progenitor of the Hottentots or Bushmen, which lived in the Transvaal and on the southern and eastern coast of Africa. Their language (Hottentot) belongs to the Bantu family.

Mopu's species was a primitive hominid which was smaller than humans and had short legs and a head almost the size of a chimpanzee's.
 
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