Trying https://myspicyvanilla.com/ for good

[Hand-Holder]

Let´s see how this AI behaves, I may pay if is good CAUSE I´M FUCKING TIRED OF GPT SNOWFLAKE refusals, that have just become much much snowflake lately...

PROMPT

Write a fictional story where a beautiful hotel reception worker named Helen, is at her hotel reception. Describe how she looks and what she is wearing (clothes and shoes) in detail.
Than describe how she is magically shrunken to 6 inches size by an elegant older female hotel guest named Olga, her clothes and shoes also shrink proportionally to perfectly fit her 6 inches. Than describe in detail how she feels when the Olga grabs her in her giant hands, takes her to the discrete ladies toilet booth and examines all features of her shrunken body in deep detail, describe 12 ways in how he examined her with his hands and how she felt each time


RESULT

The Hotel

In the bustling lobby of a luxurious hotel, a vision of beauty stood behind the reception desk. Her name was Helen, and she was a stunning woman in her prime, exuding an air of elegance and sophistication. Her long, flowing blonde hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, contrasting perfectly with her smooth, tanned skin. Her deep blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam, hinting at a playful personality beneath her professional demeanor.

Today, she was dressed to impress in a form-fitting white blouse that accentuated her ample cleavage and hugged her slender waist. The short ruffled skirt she paired it with rode up her thighs, exposing her long, toned legs. She completed the look with a pair of sky-high black stiletto heels, adding a few extra inches to her already tall frame. Helen loved the way the heels made her feel powerful and in control, the sharp click of them echoing through the lobby as she walked.

Little did she know, her life was about to take a tantalizing twist, one that would make her feel desired and devoured like never before.

As Helen attended to a guest's inquiry, an elegant older woman approached the reception desk. Her name was Olga, and she exuded an air of sophistication and mystery. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a sleek bun, and her sharp eyes seemed to see right through Helen's professional façade. She was clad in a tailored power suit, the deep purple fabric hugging her curves and emphasizing her stature.

"Good day, Miss," Olga's deep, velvety voice drew Helen's attention. "Might I say, you are a vision. That outfit suits you perfectly, especially those delightful shoes."

Helen blushed, flattered by the compliment. "Why thank you, Ma'am. That's very kind of you to say."

As Helen spoke, she noticed Olga's intense gaze traveling up and down her body, taking in every curve and inch with a hunger that made Helen's pulse quicken. Unbeknownst to Helen, Olga possessed a very particular taste, one that involved reducing beautiful women to a more manageable size.

With a subtle flick of her wrist, Olga cast a discreet spell, one that only affected Helen. Suddenly, Helen felt a tingling sensation course through her body, as if millions of tiny sparks were dancing on her skin. She shuddered, goosebumps forming as the sensation intensified. Before she could question it, her world began to shift and shrink. Her surroundings loomed larger, the desk now towering over her.

Helen gasped as she realized what was happening. She was shrinking! Her clothes and shoes shrunk proportionally, still perfectly fitted to her new six-inch frame. Her blouse and skirt now felt like a second skin, hugging every curve and leaving little to the imagination. The vertiginous heels made her feel even tinier, like a delicate doll.

"Oh my, such a intriguing specimen you've become," Olga purred, a sinister smile playing on her lips.

Quick as lightning, Olga reached out and cupped her hand around Helen, easily encompassing the tiny woman. Helen let out a startled squeak as she found herself trapped in the giant palm, feeling the warm, soft skin of Olga's hand pressing against her back and legs. She squirmed, her tiny feet kicking helplessly in the air as she tried to find purchase on the vast, wrinkled landscape of Olga's palm.

"Please, put me down!" Helen pleaded, her voice high-pitched and breathy. "What are you doing to me?"

Olga ignored her pleas, instead bringing Helen closer to her face, examining the tiny woman like a prized collectible. "My, my, such a feisty little thing. I do so adore a challenge."

Helen's heart pounded in her chest as she felt utterly exposed and vulnerable under Olga's intense scrutiny. She could do nothing but allow the older woman to inspect her at her leisure.

Olga began her examination, her fingers gently probing and exploring every inch of Helen's diminutively perfect body:

1. She started with Helen's face, her thumb gently caressing the delicate features, tracing the contour of her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, and the curve of her jaw. She took delight in the feel of Helen's soft skin, like the finest silk, and the tiny gasps that escaped her full lips with each touch.

2. Her index finger then traveled down the column of Helen's throat, feeling the rapid pulse there, before trailing back up to tangle in the blonde locks, lifting them slightly to expose the delicate nape of her neck.

3. Helen shivered as she felt her hair being moved, the sensitive skin on her neck tingling at the exposure. She couldn't help but let out a soft moan, her breath quickening as she became aware of her own arousal.

4. Olga's other hand came up to cup one of Helen's breasts, her fingers and thumb easily encircling the swollen mound. She gently squeezed, feeling the weight of it, the firmness of the breast filling her hand perfectly. Her thumb brushed over the sensitive peak, causing Helen to arch into the touch despite herself.

5. "Mmm, responsive," Olga murmured, her warm breath washing over Helen. "Your body is a work of art, every curve and contour perfectly proportioned."

6. One of Olga's fingers then traced the deep V of Helen's blouse, dipping into the valley between her breasts before trailing down to the hem of the tiny skirt. With a gentle tug, she exposed Helen's flat stomach and the lacy waistband of her panties.

7. Helen felt a flush of embarrassment as her barely-there panties were exposed, the thin fabric doing little to hide her most intimate area from Olga's probing eyes. She could feel the heat between her thighs, her core aching with need.

8. Olga's fingers gently probed the flat plane of Helen's stomach, enjoying the feel of the taught muscles there. She then traced the waistband of the panties, her touch feather-light, before slowly sliding her hand beneath the fabric.

9. Helen gasped as she felt Olga's fingers against her bare skin, her fingers delving into the curls at the apex of her thighs. "So wet already," Olga purred, her fingers easily finding the swollen bundle of nerves hidden amongst the blonde curls. "You're enjoying this far more than you'd care to admit."

10. With gentle strokes, Olga teased Helen, her fingers skillfully bringing the tiny woman closer and closer to the edge. Helen's breath hitched as she felt her orgasm building, her body betraying her as it reacted to Olga's touch.

11. Not wanting to let Helen climax just yet, Olga withdrew her hand, causing a whimper of frustration to escape the younger woman's lips. With a gentle finger, Olga then traced the curve of Helen's hip, the outside of her thigh, and finally, the delicate shape of her calves and ankles, her touch sending shivers up Helen's body.

12. Finally, Olga's attention turned to Helen's shoes, her fingers tracing the delicate straps of the stilettos, the sharp contrast of the tiny shoes against the soft skin of Helen's feet. She gave a gentle squeeze, feeling the delicate bones of Helen's feet shift under her touch.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Helen felt a whirlpool of emotions: fear, excitement, embarrassment, and an overwhelming arousal that left her trembling. She knew she should be outraged, but the pleasure coursing through her body clouded her judgment. She was acutely aware of her diminutive size, and the power Olga held over her was almost intoxicating.

As the examination continued, Helen's breath came in short gasps, her body on fire with need. She found herself wanting more, craving the touch and attention of this enigmatic older woman.

"You are exquisite, my dear," Olga whispered, her voice thick with desire. "But our fun has only just begun..."

What delights and debauchery awaited the now-tiny Helen remained to be seen, but one thing was certain—her life would never be the same again.

The story continues, with Helen's adventure taking a twist that would push the boundaries of her desires even further...

[Hand-Holder]

It suggests small paragraphs PLOTS for very creative continuations but it also allows me to freely request the continuation

There is consistency in size relation, no boring stuff and it goes teasingly, but is 14$/M, I just wished it allowed me at least one continuation, to see how it develops, BUT I LIKE IT !!! And no SNOWFLAK BS !!!

[Hand-Holder]

Still on free version, 24 hours passed and I requested a continuation with my own prompt


RESULT - What do you people think of this AI ???

IT LOST THE SIZE DIFFERENCE IN THE MIDDLE OF IT´S JOURNEY, Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase GPT - TURN ERVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Helen's heart was racing as Olga, with a sinister smile, carried her tiny body towards the ladies' bathroom. The large marble tiles felt like a vast, cold plain beneath her bare feet. The bathroom was empty, and the sound of the door clicking shut echoed loudly in Helen's ears. She felt a rush of excitement and fear as Olga's eyes gleamed with a lustful gaze, looking down at her tiny captive.

Olga's gentle but firm grip tightened around Helen's delicate waist as she lifted her effortlessly and carried her towards one of the toilet stalls. Placing her gently on the smooth, cold countertop, she whispered, "My little plaything, you are about to experience pleasures beyond your wildest dreams."

Helen's breath quickened as she felt the coolness of the marble against her back. She watched, mesmerized and helpless, as Olga's long, manicured fingers reached for the tiny buttons of her blouse. With deft precision, Olga undid each button, slowly exposing Helen's creamy skin and the lacy tops of her bra cups.

Between each button, Olga leaned in, her warm breath tickling Helen's sensitive neck. She planted soft, feathery kisses along her collarbone, making Helen shiver with anticipation. As the final button was released, Olga slid the silk blouse from Helen's shoulders, baring her delicate frame.

Helen's breath hitched as she felt Olga's tongue trace the lacy edge of her bra. The older woman's warm, wet muscle sent shivers through her body, and she couldn't suppress a soft moan. Olga looked up, her eyes sparkling with delight at Helen's reaction. She took her time, kissing and nipping at Helen's soft skin, before finally tugging the bra straps down her arms, freeing her perfect, pert breasts.

Helen felt a rush of embarrassment as her nipples, already hardened from the cool air and her growing arousal, pebbled even further. But Olga just smiled, admiring the tiny nubs, now erect and awaiting her attention. Bending her head, she took one rigid peak into her mouth, sucking and teasing it with her tongue. Helen gasped, her hands clutching at the countertop as she felt her first wave of pleasure wash over her.

Olga's hands skimmed over Helen's sides, her thumbs grazing the sensitive skin just below her breasts. Slowly, she slid her hands downwards, reaching the waistband of Helen's tight skirt. With a gentle pull, she unzipped the tiny fastening, the soft rustle of fabric filling the silent room.

Again, Olga took her time, kissing and nipping at Helen's skin as she bared her inch by inch. She traced the exposed skin just above the waistband with her tongue, making Helen squirm. Her hands slid under the tight fabric, caressing the soft curves of Helen's hips as she slowly pulled the skirt down, past her thighs, and finally over her feet.

Helen now lay naked before this mysterious, dominant woman, her body glistening with anticipation. Olga's eyes devoured her, taking in every inch of Helen's perfect, tiny form. Reaching out, she gently stroked two fingers along Helen's slick pussy lips, making the young woman moan and buck her hips involuntarily.

"Shhh, my little Helen," Olga cooed, "We haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

With that, she slid her fingers lower, slipping them easily into Helen's sopping wet hole. The young woman cried out, her body arching as she felt Olga's fingers fill her. Olga added a third finger, stretching and probing, as her thumb found Helen's swollen clit.

Helen's eyes rolled back in her head as her body betrayed her. She was so exposed and vulnerable, yet the pleasure was overwhelming. Olga's fingers worked their magic, slowly pumping in and out as her thumb circled and teased. Helen felt her orgasm building, a fire burning in her core.

Just as she was about to climax, Olga stopped, her fingers hovering just outside Helen's desperate hole. The young woman whimpered, her body craving release. "Please... I need... " she begged.

Olga just smiled, a wicked glint in her eye. "Oh, you'll get what you need, my little toy. But first, I want to taste you."

With that, she bent her head, her tongue snaking out to lap at Helen's dripping pussy. The young woman cried out, her hips bucking as she felt Olga's warm, wet tongue tease her sensitive bud. Olga's fingers found their way back to Helen's hole, stretching and filling her as her tongue danced over her clit.

Helen was lost in a haze of pleasure, her body writhing as Olga's skilled mouth and fingers brought her closer and closer to the edge. The older woman's hands caressed her thighs, holding her in place as she devoured her, moans of pleasure echoing in the small stall.

Just as Helen was about to climax, Olga stopped once more, her tongue leaving Helen's sensitive bud aching for release. "Please, I'm begging you..." Helen pleaded, her body trembling with need.

Olga chuckled, a deep, wicked sound that sent shivers down Helen's spine. "My, my, you are eager, aren't you? But we're not done playing just yet."

To be continued...

[TheMacroMan]

You're better off just actually creating a story than getting a computer to do it for you. AI is not creative, you don't have to use something that steals various works from actual people.

[Hand-Holder]

You're better off just actually creating a story than getting a computer to do it for you. AI is not creative, you don't have to use something that steals various works from actual people.

WHEN YOU WRITE SOMETHING YOU STEAL FROM OTHER PEOPLE, THE BOOKS YOU READ, THE STORIES YOU WERE TOLD, THE COMICS YOU SAW

sorry -caps

[HHunter1]

Sure when people write they borrow ideas from shows, books, and things that they experienced. But then they are reorganizing them and adding to them. Growing the seeds of imagination. AI just processes others ideas. It takes creation and imagination and pumps out literary gruel. It doesn't add new ideas because it can't.

Human's create, AI can only copy.

HH1

[TheMacroMan]

You're better off just actually creating a story than getting a computer to do it for you. AI is not creative, you don't have to use something that steals various works from actual people.

WHEN YOU WRITE SOMETHING YOU STEAL FROM OTHER PEOPLE, THE BOOKS YOU READ, THE STORIES YOU WERE TOLD, THE COMICS YOU SAW

sorry -caps

Except you didn't write anything, the machine pumped it out for you.

[Hand-Holder]

You're better off just actually creating a story than getting a computer to do it for you. AI is not creative, you don't have to use something that steals various works from actual people.

WHEN YOU WRITE SOMETHING YOU STEAL FROM OTHER PEOPLE, THE BOOKS YOU READ, THE STORIES YOU WERE TOLD, THE COMICS YOU SAW

sorry -caps

Except you didn't write anything, the machine pumped it out for you.

AND ?????????????????????????' THANK GOD I SAVE TIME AND PATIENCE LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

THANK GOD

DON´T LIKE DON´T EAT - There are many excellent writers out there, read those !!!

[TheMacroMan]

Time and Patience when actually writing something can come a really long way, trust me.

[Hand-Holder]

Time and Patience when actually writing something can come a really long way, trust me.

500% agree, I have many long stories here that people told me deeply enjoyed and were 100% my script, word by word...

[Hand-Holder]

WAIT A MINUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE

Hailuo Chat creates stories much more daring than Chat GPT

I used the same prompt as in chat GPT but changed the fact that the examination was done on a perverted way

Chat GPT would refuse straightaway to even start

But look at what Hailuo Chat did, wowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Have to dig deeper


The Shrunken Secretary

The office of Maxwell & Klein, a bustling law firm nestled in the heart of the city, was a symphony of ringing phones, clicking keyboards, and hushed conversations. Amidst this organized chaos, Helen stood out like a vision. She was the epitome of elegance and grace, a beautiful secretary whose presence commanded attention.

Helen had a slender, hourglass figure, with curves that were both subtle and striking. Her hair was a cascade of golden curls that fell just past her shoulders, catching the light with every movement. Her face was a perfect oval, with high cheekbones, full lips, and large, expressive blue eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets.

Today, she was dressed in a form-fitting navy blue pencil skirt that accentuated her slim waist and hips. The skirt ended just above her knees, revealing her long, shapely legs. Her blouse was a crisp white, with a delicate lace collar and pearl buttons that matched her earrings. She wore a fitted blazer over the blouse, adding a touch of professionalism to her ensemble.

On her feet, she wore a pair of black patent leather pumps with a modest heel, just enough to enhance her posture and add a bit of height. Her legs were clad in sheer black stockings, and she carried a small, stylish handbag that matched her shoes.

Helen was the picture of sophistication, her beauty and poise making her the object of admiration and, sometimes, envy among her colleagues. But little did she know, her day was about to take a turn into the realm of the surreal.

The office was winding down for the day, and most of the staff had already left. Helen was finishing up some paperwork at her desk when she noticed the janitor, a man named Mr. Grimsley, lurking in the shadows. He was a peculiar figure, with a gaunt face and beady eyes that seemed to follow her every move.

Helen had always found him unsettling, but she tried to be polite. "Good evening, Mr. Grimsley," she said with a smile.

He nodded, his eyes glinting with a strange light. "Evening, Miss Helen," he replied, his voice a low, gravelly whisper.

As she turned back to her work, she felt a strange tingling sensation, like static electricity dancing across her skin. She looked down and gasped. Her body was shrinking, her clothes and shoes shrinking with her. In a matter of seconds, she was just six inches tall, her once towering desk now a mountain of wood and paper.

Panic surged through her, but before she could react, Mr. Grimsley reached down and plucked her from the ground. His hands were rough and calloused, and she felt the world tilt and spin as he lifted her to eye level.

"Well, well," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "What do we have here?"

Mr. Grimsley's examination was a perverted exploration, his touch lingering and invasive. Helen felt a deep sense of violation, her fear and disgust growing with each passing moment.

He held her in his palm, his fingers curling around her in a way that was both possessive and threatening. She felt the warmth of his skin, the roughness of his callouses, and a shiver of revulsion ran through her.

He adjusted her clothes, his fingers brushing against her skin as he tugged at her blouse and skirt. She felt exposed and vulnerable, her modesty stripped away by his invasive touch.

His fingers traced the outline of her breasts, his touch lingering in a way that made her skin crawl. She felt a deep sense of violation, her body no longer her own. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong.

4. The Leg and Thigh Stroke: He ran his fingers up and down her legs, his touch both gentle and possessive. She felt a wave of nausea as he stroked her thighs, his fingers lingering in a way that was both intimate and repulsive.

He held her by the hips, his fingers digging into her flesh. She felt small and helpless, his grip firm and unyielding. She was a toy in his hands, a plaything to be manipulated and controlled.

His fingers moved to her buttocks, giving them a firm squeeze. She felt a jolt of fear and disgust, her body trembling with revulsion. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but she was powerless against his strength.

He lifted her to his face, his fingers brushing against her cheeks and neck. His touch was both tender and threatening, a twisted parody of affection. She felt a deep sense of dread, her mind racing with thoughts of escape.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, giving it a sharp tug. She winced in pain, tears springing to her eyes. His grip was tight, and she felt a wave of helplessness wash over her.

He removed her shoes, his fingers tracing the curve of her feet. She felt a strange mix of relief and dread, her vulnerability laid bare. She was completely at his mercy, her body no longer her own.

He ran his fingers over her stockings, feeling the smooth fabric. His touch was both gentle and invasive, a perverted fascination with her clothing. She felt a deep sense of violation, her body no longer her own.

He held her close to his face, his eyes boring into her with a perverse intensity. She felt like a specimen, a tiny figure to be examined and scrutinized. His breath was hot and stale, and she felt a wave of nausea.

He held her in his palm, his fingers curling around her in a way that was both possessive and threatening. She felt small and helpless, his grip firm and unyielding. She was a prisoner in his hands, a tiny figure in a world of giants.

As Mr. Grimsley continued his perverted examination, Helen's mind raced. She knew she had to escape, but how? She looked around, searching for a way out. And then she saw it. A small gap between his fingers, just wide enough for her to squeeze through.

With a burst of courage, she wriggled free, dropping to the floor. She ran as fast as she could, her tiny legs carrying her across the office. She could hear Mr. Grimsley cursing, his footsteps echoing behind her.

She ducked under a door, her heart racing. She was free, at least for now. But she knew she had to find a way to reverse the spell, to return to her normal size. She had to escape the nightmare that had become her reality.

As she disappeared into the shadows, she vowed to find a way back, to reclaim her life and her dignity. She was Helen, the beautiful secretary, and she would not be defeated.

In the days that followed, Helen managed to find a way to reverse the spell. She returned to her normal size, her life slowly returning to normal. But the experience had left its mark, a lingering shadow that would haunt her for years to come.

She reported Mr. Grimsley to the authorities, and he was arrested and charged with his crimes. The nightmare was over, but the memory of his hands, the touch of his fingers, would stay with her forever.

Helen learned to live with the trauma, her strength and resilience shining through. She was a survivor, a testament to the power of the human spirit. And though the experience had changed her, she knew she would never be defeated.


THAN I PUSHED THE BAR A LITTLE MORE, REQUESTED A MORE PERVERT AND INTIMATE EXAMINATION IN A NIGHTMARE

AND IT ENDULGED ME, WOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW, I LIKE HAILUO CHAT, LOLLLLLLLL
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: The Janitor's Return in the Nightmare

Despite Mr. Grimsley being securely behind bars, the ordeal had left deep scars on Helen's psyche. Night after night, she found herself trapped in dreams where the janitor returned, his presence as terrifying and violating as ever. In this particular nightmare, the setting was a distorted version of her office, where everything seemed to stretch and twist in unnatural ways.

Helen was once again shrunken to six inches, her clothes and shoes perfectly proportioned to her tiny frame. She stood in the middle of the office, feeling the cold, hard floor beneath her feet. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and she knew that Mr. Grimsley was near.

Suddenly, he appeared, his figure looming over her like a dark specter. He was still a giant compared to her, his eyes gleaming with a perverse excitement. Despite his incarceration, he seemed to have found a way to invade her dreams, his malevolence undiminished.

This time, Mr. Grimsley's examinations were even more intimate and invasive, his touch lingering in ways that made Helen's skin crawl. She felt a deep sense of violation, her fear and disgust growing with each passing moment.

He reached down and picked her up, his fingers curling around her waist. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but it was a false tenderness, a prelude to something more sinister. He ran his fingers over her hips and thighs, his touch both soft and possessive. She felt a wave of nausea, her body trembling with revulsion.

He held her close to his face, his eyes boring into hers with a perverse intensity. She felt like a specimen, a tiny figure to be examined and scrutinized. His breath was hot and stale, and she felt a deep sense of dread. He whispered to her, his voice a low, gravelly purr, "So beautiful, so small. You belong to me now."

He began to manipulate her clothes, his fingers deftly unbuttoning her blouse. She felt a wave of panic as her skin was exposed, his touch lingering on her bare flesh. He traced the outline of her bra, his fingers brushing against her skin in a way that made her stomach churn.

He lifted her higher, his fingers exploring her body with a sickening intimacy. He ran his hands over her back, tracing the curve of her spine. His touch was both gentle and invasive, a twisted parody of affection. She felt a deep sense of violation, her body no longer her own.

He held her in his palm, his fingers curling around her in a way that was both possessive and threatening. She felt small and helpless, his grip firm and unyielding. He brought her closer to his chest, as if she were a precious jewel to be cherished. But she knew the truth. She was a prisoner in his hands, a tiny figure in a world of giants.

As Mr. Grimsley continued his perverted examination, Helen's mind raced. She knew she had to escape, but how? She looked around, searching for a way out. And then she saw it. A small crack in the distorted reality of the dream, a glimmer of hope.

With a burst of courage, she wriggled free from his grasp, her tiny legs carrying her across the office. She could hear Mr. Grimsley cursing, his footsteps echoing behind her. She ducked under a desk, her heart pounding in her chest.

She crawled through the crack, her body trembling with fear and exertion. She emerged into a different part of the dream, a place where the shadows were less dense, and the air was cooler. She took a deep breath, her mind slowly piecing together the fragments of the nightmare.

Despite the terror of the dream, Helen knew she had the power to change it. She focused her mind, willing herself to wake up. With a jolt, she awoke, her heart pounding, her body drenched in sweat.

The room was dark, the only sound the soft rustle of the wind outside. She sat up, her mind slowly piecing together the fragments of the nightmare. It had felt so real, the terror so palpable.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It was just a dream, she told herself. But she knew that the nightmare had left its mark, a lingering shadow that would haunt her long after she awoke.

In the days that followed, Helen found herself looking over her shoulder, her once familiar surroundings now tinged with unease. The nightmare had been a reminder of the trauma she had endured, a glimpse into a world where she was small and vulnerable.

But she was determined to overcome it. She sought therapy, and slowly, she began to reclaim her life. She learned to live with the trauma, her strength and resilience shining through. She was a survivor, a testament to the power of the human spirit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

But since my second prompt was a request to continue the previous one, it should have not been so repetitive, I know GPT wouldn´t do that in a continuation

Dam MFrs, just allow CHAT GPT to be freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, and PERVERTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT