Such complete and utter hogwash, an egregious display of fabricated information that seems to have been concocted purely for the purpose of titillation! She reached out to him via a provocative late-night call, her voice dripping with a sense of urgent allure as she recounted a rather sordid tale of an unfortunate animal, seemingly struck down in the throes of passion, now lying sprawled and lifeless in the secluded embrace of a dimly lit, shadowy alleyway. The details she shared were almost too vivid, painting a scene so vivid that one could almost smell the desperation in the air. Her insistence that he come immediately, that he drop everything and rush over, held a tantalizing hint of something more—something almost lascivious.
Driven by a heady mix of curiosity and an undeniable arousal at the tantalizing possibilities, he hastened through the night, navigating the twists and turns of the city like a man possessed, until he arrived at the designated location. And there, bathed in the sultry glow of a lone, flickering streetlight, stood she, a vision of pure, unadulterated temptation. She was clad in nothing but the top half of a costume—though calling it a mere 'costume' scarcely does justice to the spectacle before him. It was the upper section of a two-person horse outfit, the kind that, when fully worn, requires two bodies to move in perfect unison, to synchronize their motions in a dance that is as intimate as it is absurd. Yet here she was, alone, the lower half conspicuously absent, leaving her exposed in a way that was both tantalizing and bewildering.
He could barely contain the surge of thoughts that raced through his mind, each one more provocative than the last. What could she possibly want from him in such a state, presenting herself in such a way, the exposed seams of the incomplete costume hinting at possibilities both wild and erotic? His mind, now gripped by a salacious and relentless brain worm, wrestled with the situation, a fitting metaphor for the intrusive, throbbing thoughts that wriggled their way through his consciousness. What could such a cerebral parasite do when confronted with such an enticing enigma? Was this a test, a seduction, or merely a bizarre invitation to indulge in some unspeakable form of intimacy?
Every angle, every shadow seemed charged with the electric potential of what might happen next. The absurdity of the scene only served to heighten the surreal, almost orgiastic atmosphere, as if the alley itself pulsed with an unspoken desire, urging him to step forward, to close the gap, to discover just what she had in mind for him, standing there half-dressed as half a horse. In that moment, with the night pressing in around them and the air thick with possibility, it was clear that the question of what a brain worm should do was less important than the burning question of what he was going to do—and what, exactly, she was going to let him get away with.
@immamac I'll subscribe again if you can set up a YGIFs-post trained LLM to randomly post here (only half-joking)