A.I. erotica: snails and oysters
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| "No more fighting over snails and oysters" |
A problem when using ChatGPT for help when translating, is that it refuses every time it gets too sexual.
I sometime I get around this by replacing words. If a sentence is about oral sex, I'll for instance replace the genitals with an icecream cone while translating. And then I wondered, could I also make ChatGPT write erotic fiction by using placeholders for genitals?
I took inspiration from the scene in Spartacus where Tony Curtis and Lawrence Olivier talk about eating snails and oysters, whether one is superior to the other, and everyone knows they are talking about pussies and dicks. And though it wouldn't work to just do a search-replace to turn this story into being about genitals, I'm still impressed with how horny ChatGPT seems here, while clearly having no clue what it's doing.
My conclusion is that at least ChatGPT can't write erotic fiction like any human would write it. But I must also admit that I don't think I could have ever written this myself:
Voracious Cravings
Berlin, with its throbbing heartbeat of techno music and vibrant subcultures, is a city where anything can happen. Nestled in a dimly lit alleyway, "TeknoKraut," the famed record store, pulses with electronic beats. Shelves lined with vinyl records, posters of underground raves, and eclectic customers set the stage for an unusual encounter.
Tomas, a lanky boy with wild, blue hair and an assortment of piercings, clutches a small, brown snail. Next to him, Oliver, with his dreadlocks and oversized hoodie, tenderly cradles an oyster in a small, wet towel.
They are both 15, and each is madly hungry for the other's creature. They glance at each other from opposite ends of the store, a mix of curiosity and primal hunger in their eyes.
The techno beats create a rhythmic backdrop as the boys' eyes lock. Tomas's stomach growls loudly, echoing his desire. He can almost taste the briny flesh of the oyster, imagining the sensation of it sliding down his throat.
Oliver, on the other hand, feels a deep craving for the snail, imagining the chewy texture and rich, earthy flavor. His gaze is intense, filled with an insatiable hunger.
Their footsteps echo as they approach each other, driven by an unspoken understanding. The record store's owner, a grizzled old man with a penchant for minding his own business, glances up but quickly returns to his records.
"Give me the oyster," Tomas demands, his voice low but firm.
"Not a chance," Oliver retorts, clutching the oyster tighter. "Hand over the snail."
Tension escalates quickly. Tomas lunges forward, trying to snatch the oyster from Oliver's grasp. Oliver sidesteps, narrowly avoiding Tomas's outstretched hand, and swings his backpack to fend him off.
They crash into a shelf, sending records tumbling to the floor. The store owner yells, but the boys are too consumed by their hunger to care. Tomas manages to grab Oliver's hoodie, pulling him back.
Oliver stumbles, and the oyster slips from his grasp, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Seizing the opportunity, Tomas dives for it, but Oliver is quicker. He kicks Tomas away and grabs the snail from Tomas's hand.
"Now I have both!" Oliver shouts triumphantly.
Tomas, desperate and enraged, tackles Oliver to the ground. They grapple fiercely, rolling over each other, knocking over more shelves and sending a cascade of records clattering around them. The sounds of their struggle blend with the pounding techno, creating a chaotic symphony.
Oliver, using his elbow, manages to free himself and scrambles to his feet. He clutches both the snail and the oyster, but Tomas isn't far behind. In a desperate move, Tomas grabs a vinyl record and hurls it like a frisbee.
The record slices through the air, grazing Oliver's arm. He yelps in pain, dropping the snail. Tomas leaps forward, securing the snail in his hand.
Breathing heavily, they face each other once more, each holding their coveted prize. Their eyes are wild with hunger and determination.
"This ends now," Tomas growls, taking a step forward.
"Agreed," Oliver replies, his voice equally resolute.
They charge at each other, the final clash. Tomas feints to the left, then pivots to the right, catching Oliver off guard. He grabs Oliver's wrist, twisting it until he drops the oyster.
With a triumphant grin, Tomas shoves the snail into his mouth, savoring the taste. The sensation is overwhelming, fulfilling his deepest cravings.
Oliver, not to be outdone, dives for the oyster, tearing it open with his teeth. The briny, fresh taste floods his senses, a moment of pure satisfaction.
The boys collapse onto the floor, panting heavily, their hunger finally sated. Around them, the record store is a mess, with broken shelves and scattered vinyls.
The store owner, having had enough, finally steps in. "Out! Both of you!" he yells, pointing to the door.
Tomas and Oliver exchange a glance, a strange camaraderie forming in the aftermath of their intense battle. They stagger to their feet and make their way to the exit.
Outside, the cool Berlin air hits their faces. They laugh, a shared sense of absurdity washing over them.
"Next time, let's just grab a bite at a café," Tomas suggests, grinning.
"Agreed," Oliver replies, chuckling. "No more fighting over snails and oysters."
As they walk away from the chaotic scene, the techno beats of the city fade into the background, leaving behind an unusual tale of hunger and an unlikely bond formed in the most bizarre of circumstances.
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