"AI" Rejection

[Bramblethorn]

This. We need to get clarity on the trigger phrases and/or sentence structures, so we can compile the differences between human writing and derivative word prediction software (let's not call it AI, because it isn't).

I think we can all recognise AI when we read it, but reducing it to the "reasons why" does get a little harder.

Problem is that any simple rule for detecting AIs can be used to train the AIs not to do that thing. So we're left with the complicated ones.

This comment hit me right in the gut. I had my writing flagged by AI and I know I wrote it. I just put it through several AI detectors and was amazed to see what was flagged. Even sex scenes were flagged and chatgpt won't even write those!

It's not supposed to, but it can be tricked by things like the "napalm grandma" exploit. And there are other, similar products which aren't as restricted as GPT.

I still don't put stock in AI being able to write. I tried several of those systems. They have the attention span of a child, or worse than one. They can't keep the line of thought for more than a paragraph.

They have gotten significantly better in the last year or so, though there's still a huge amount of hype and wishful thinking. I'm not aware of anything that can write a story that holds together for more than a few hundred words, but they seem to be used more often as a filler tool - a human will write an intro or an outline, and get it to fill that in a paragraph at a time, with the human editing as needed.

 

[grenefire]

Can you post a few paragraphs of your story so we can see ?

here is sampling some of what I wrote in the work that got flagged when I ran it though some AI detectors:


I anxiously clutched my daughter's hand as our plane took off. After hours of delays, we were finally on our way home.

The last week with Rachel had been life-changing, and I was unsure how I would feel being back in my Orthodox Jewish community.

"Mom, you okay?" Rachel asked.

"I guess I'm just worried about what will happen when we get home," I remarked.

"This week was great, but I understand if you want to pretend it didn't happen and we go back to how things were," Rachel said, a bit of sadness in her voice.

"I don't think I can do that," I trailed off.

We spent the rest of the flight holding each other tightly, trying to enjoy our last moments, pretending the rest of the world didn't exist.

Arriving at the gate, I took a deep breath before returning to my old life.

"Sarah! Rachel!" Robbie, my husband, called out as we left the terminal.

His smile was infectious, and it was clear that he was happy to see us. I wondered if he would still be excited to see his wife and daughter if he knew we had spent the last week as lovers.

"Hey, honey. I'm glad you're home. I missed you," Robbie beamed as he helped me put my bags into the car.

"I missed you too," I said, pecking him on the lips.

His lips were rough, and his stubble rubbed against my sensitive skin. It was a stark contrast to Rachel's soft skin and succulent lips. A wave of guilt washed over me. I couldn't believe I was comparing kissing my husband with kissing my daughter.


and some more:

As we turned onto Rivington Street, it suddenly dawned on me where she was taking me. While I had never been to Babeland, I had bought several vibrators from their website. I couldn't believe my daughter dared take me to a sex shop, but I excitedly entered the store with her.

"Hi. I'm Jasmine. Let me know if you have any questions. I am happy to help," the young clerk said.

Before I could say anything, Rachel spoke up.

"Actually, we could use your help. My girlfriend and I are looking to purchase our first strap-on, but we don't know where to start," my daughter explained.

I was shocked by Rachel's pronouncement but grinned widely at the image of fucking Rachel with a silicon cock.

"Great! I'm a big fan. So the first thing we need to do is find you a comfortable harness," Jasmine explained.

Jasmine led us to a display of harnesses. I was overwhelmed by all the different varieties, yet looking at Rachel, all I saw was glee in her eyes. She clearly was enlivened by all this.

"That one looks interesting," Rachel stated, pointing to a simple-looking leather harness.

"That is a perfect harness for beginners. It is very comfortable and can fit a variety of dildos. Here, try it on," she said, passing it to my daughter.

Rachel slid one leg up and then the other. She attempted to adjust the straps, pulling at the leather, but struggled to make it work.

"Let me help you," Jasmine smiled, showing us how to tighten the harness correctly.

"This feels great, Sarah. I can't wait to feel what it is like to have the cock hanging from it," Rachel beamed.

 

[djrip]

here is sampling some of what I wrote in the work that got flagged when I ran it though some AI detectors:


I anxiously clutched my daughter's hand as our plane took off. After hours of delays, we were finally on our way home.

The last week with Rachel had been life-changing, and I was unsure how I would feel being back in my Orthodox Jewish community.

"Mom, you okay?" Rachel asked.

"I guess I'm just worried about what will happen when we get home," I remarked.

"This week was great, but I understand if you want to pretend it didn't happen and we go back to how things were," Rachel said, a bit of sadness in her voice.

"I don't think I can do that," I trailed off.

We spent the rest of the flight holding each other tightly, trying to enjoy our last moments, pretending the rest of the world didn't exist.

Arriving at the gate, I took a deep breath before returning to my old life.

"Sarah! Rachel!" Robbie, my husband, called out as we left the terminal.

His smile was infectious, and it was clear that he was happy to see us. I wondered if he would still be excited to see his wife and daughter if he knew we had spent the last week as lovers.

"Hey, honey. I'm glad you're home. I missed you," Robbie beamed as he helped me put my bags into the car.

"I missed you too," I said, pecking him on the lips.

His lips were rough, and his stubble rubbed against my sensitive skin. It was a stark contrast to Rachel's soft skin and succulent lips. A wave of guilt washed over me. I couldn't believe I was comparing kissing my husband with kissing my daughter.


and some more:

As we turned onto Rivington Street, it suddenly dawned on me where she was taking me. While I had never been to Babeland, I had bought several vibrators from their website. I couldn't believe my daughter dared take me to a sex shop, but I excitedly entered the store with her.

"Hi. I'm Jasmine. Let me know if you have any questions. I am happy to help," the young clerk said.

Before I could say anything, Rachel spoke up.

"Actually, we could use your help. My girlfriend and I are looking to purchase our first strap-on, but we don't know where to start," my daughter explained.

I was shocked by Rachel's pronouncement but grinned widely at the image of fucking Rachel with a silicon cock.

"Great! I'm a big fan. So the first thing we need to do is find you a comfortable harness," Jasmine explained.

Jasmine led us to a display of harnesses. I was overwhelmed by all the different varieties, yet looking at Rachel, all I saw was glee in her eyes. She clearly was enlivened by all this.

"That one looks interesting," Rachel stated, pointing to a simple-looking leather harness.

"That is a perfect harness for beginners. It is very comfortable and can fit a variety of dildos. Here, try it on," she said, passing it to my daughter.

Rachel slid one leg up and then the other. She attempted to adjust the straps, pulling at the leather, but struggled to make it work.

"Let me help you," Jasmine smiled, showing us how to tighten the harness correctly.

"This feels great, Sarah. I can't wait to feel what it is like to have the cock hanging from it," Rachel beamed.

It seems totally fine. These AI detectors are crap.

 

[BelleCanzuto]

here is sampling some of what I wrote in the work that got flagged when I ran it though some AI detectors:

If that doesn't prove that these large language model (I refuse to call them AI) can only see one tree after another with absolutely no recognition that they're in the middle of a forest, I don't know what would.

You wrote a mom/daughter incest story featuring Orthodox Jews, and some idiotic generative text "detector" thinks a machine wrote it? WTAF?

 

[Bramblethorn]

It seems totally fine. These AI detectors are crap.

Yep. The one thing I can see there is the "life-changing". AI writing often seems to pad with fuzzy feel-good clichés - "and that's how Bob learned to believe in himself!" kind of thing - and "life-changing" would fit into that. But on its own, that's extremely weak evidence.

It's a hard problem. I don't know how it is on Literotica specifically, but a lot of story-type sites have been absolutely hammered with AI-generated submissions, and that makes it hard to give intelligent scrutiny to every submission. Either you get more mods in, which Lit doesn't seem inclined to do, or you resort to highly unreliable tools with a high rate of false positives and depend on authors to query when the detector gets it wrong.

 

[ElectricBlue]

You wrote a mom/daughter incest story featuring Orthodox Jews, and some idiotic generative text "detector" thinks a machine wrote it? WTAF?

Setting aside the fundamental point of the subject matter (which you'd think would get someone past Go), and with no offence to the writer intended, the samples provided do have that bland sameness of language you see with AI content. I'd look at those samples and think, "Hmmm, not so sure on this one," but would go take at the look elsewhere in the story.

It's going to get harder, I think: stylistic burdens of proof, how does one actually do that?

 

[bawdybloke]

Can you post a few paragraphs of your story so we can see ?

I’d seen her a few times at our local nightclub; I only visited the intimate small town establishment on Thursday nights, when the DJ played rock music, and only when my work rota permitted it. The young brown-haired lady I watched from the raised bar area was present on every occasion I frequented the basement nightspot. But she was out of my league; she exuded confidence and sexuality, dressed to attract attention, and had the erotic power of a porn star. I was a 33-year-old slightly overweight divorcee with the start of a receding hairline.

The first couple of times I saw her, I was just one of another 300 revellers in the nightclub. The time after that, we spoke. I bought her a drink at the bar, and we chatted above the thumping beat of AC/DC and the nostalgic melodies of Green Day.

Then just last week, she teased me; we got a table at the rear of the club, next to the coat check, and beside the bar. The alcohol helped; I always found it difficult to speak to new people, but we conversed easily, and her sex appeal and flirtatious behaviour encouraged me to invest a small chunk of my bonus money in her inebriation. She coquettishly intimated and exaggerated, hiking her short skirt higher when our drinks ran dry, before I staggered to buy replenishments.

Khristyna blew kisses with her soft red lips, and she daintily rubbed the back of my hand as she discussed sex. I’d evaded the subject and had not mentioned my proclivities. My divorce was still raw, and I had found it difficult to find women who had similar perverted kinks in the small Cheshire town. Instead, I imagined the scenes of depravity that the coquettish Lithuanian described as she revealed her fantasies and experiences. However, as my alcohol consumption rose, I shared more of my sexual desires.

She giggled as she saw my expression, adjusted her tight top and suggested we get another round of drinks. Clearly, I was on a promise.

Actually, she had tormented me. The Eastern European immigrant had seduced and then discarded me, kissing me goodbye as she staggered from the nightclub to “go home” to her flat. She promised to text me as she shimmied out of the club, wiggling her bum in her incredibly tight skirt before she ascended the stairs.

For days, she dominated my sex-heavy dreams; I fantasised about running my lips over her naked bosom and parting her legs to explore her wondrous womanhood. Probably waxed or shaved, hairless to not impede my view. Each night, I visualised the ravishment of the cheeky sex bomb, and I woke to a painful erection.

I discussed my predicament with my friend the day before the next nightclub session; the assistant nurse was an accomplished womaniser and had the phone numbers of the shadiest contacts in the small town. “Twenty five quid,” he suggested. “It’s a drug that loosens inhibitions. She’ll be gagging for it. Just slip it into her drink and bone her!”

It sounded unethical and illegal. A medical consultant should not entertain the clandestine application of drugs to a sexual partner, and yet the following day I dressed to visit the nightclub with a small sealed paper packet in my pocket, intending to tip the contents into Khristyna’s drink. I knew she’d be there; she messaged me.

That Thursday night, I arrived as the doors opened, bagging the table in the far corner. The dark venue, lit by strobe lighting across the nightclub, left a few of the tables near the coat check in gloomy shadow.

Khristyna bounced over to me, dressed in a shiny black short skirt with a tight bustier and dark stockings. She grinned when she saw me and flounced onto the chair opposite. “Hiya Joe. I’ve had a crap day.”

“Drink?” I asked, and walked to the bar to buy her favoured tipple - a vodka and lemonade. My hands shook as I picked the hi-ball glass; there was no way for me to empty the contents of the paper packet in my pocket without a dozen witnesses seeing it.

As the night wore on, and Khristyna flirted more explicitly and drunkenly with me, my mind whirred as I struggled to find a way of getting the contents of the inch square paper sachet into her drink.

Under the cover of the club darkness, I ripped the top of the sachet in my right hand and gestured towards the stage. “Hey, isn’t that guy waving at you?” With one smooth motion, I reached for my beer on the table, emptying the white crystals into her glass.

My heart pounded. There were over 300 potential witnesses to what I had done, but as I waited for the shouts and challenges, no-one uttered a word. “What guy?”

“Oh, he’s gone now.”

The dark-haired beauty chuckled, and I hurried to the toilet to calm my nerves before returning to the table to buy us both another drink. But the polluted tipple worked; she kissed me, sliding her dainty hands over my navy shirt.

She tasted divine; the harsh bitterness of the lemons on her tongue with the sensual beauty of the Lithuanian kitten. “Let’s go,” she whispered, nibbling on my ear. I couldn’t wait to depart, stumbling into the cool evening with my new sexual conquest. She opened the car door of a parked red vehicle nearby. “Taxi?”

The hooded driver grunted. “Yeah, where to?”

“17 Roseberry Gardens,” I replied, scooting in the back seat with the sexual powerhouse. Her hands rubbed my thighs as she pushed her lips onto mine, and the ten-year-old car lurched forwards. She could not stop touching me; I tugged at her tight rubberised corset, exposing her large breasts on her lissom frame to my fingers.

Touching her nipples sent a frisson of excitement to my cock as I rolled the points between my fingers. She pushed her lips onto mine as the car sped along the streets, braking gently at our destination. “We’re here,” the driver muttered, reaching into my pocket to get my wallet and pay our cabbie.

Hands grabbed my wrists, pulling them away from my body towards the front seat. Two clicks signified she had cuffed me in one smooth motion. Khristyna smirked as she readjusted her corset and picked my wallet from the floor.

“You can’t do this,” I spat. They had set me up to be mugged, and I looked out of the window; this was not my house, but a desolate industrial estate.

 

[BelleCanzuto]

the samples provided do have that bland sameness of language you see with AI content.

That was kind of my point with the forest/trees analogy. It sees one word after the other, with no sense of the larger context, and zero understanding of the creativity required to come up with that kind of content.

Page length word auto fill (which is what these chat generators are) would have blocks of the repetitive blandness without any hint of the twist of the taboo relationship.

 

[ElectricBlue]

I’d seen her a few times at our local nightclub; I only visited the intimate small town establishment on Thursday nights, when the DJ played rock music, and only when my work rota permitted it. The young brown-haired lady I watched from the raised bar area was present on every occasion I frequented the basement nightspot. But she was out of my league; she exuded confidence and sexuality, dressed to attract attention, and had the erotic power of a porn star. I was a 33-year-old slightly overweight divorcee with the start of a receding hairline.

Same advice as I gave up above - resubmit as is, with a Note to the Editor, saying, "It's all my own work." If it is, indeed, written unassisted.

This one reads somewhat more "human written" than the other sample provided above - although these sentences make little sense:

She pushed her lips onto mine as the car sped along the streets, braking gently at our destination. “We’re here,” the driver muttered, reaching into my pocket to get my wallet and pay our cabbie.

What's the connection between her lips and braking gently? That's just bad punctuation.

But wait. The car's speeding but braking gently? That's maybe not logical.

Why would the driver reach into his pocket to pay the cabbie? The driver IS the cabbie. This complete logic fail is quite typical of AI content.

I'm starting to see why this story got bounced.

 

[ElectricBlue]

That was kind of my point with the forest/trees analogy. It sees one word after the other, with no sense of the larger context, and zero understanding of the creativity required to come up with that kind of content.

Page length word auto fill (which is what these chat generators are) would have blocks of the repetitive blandness without any hint of the twist of the taboo relationship.

True. I think the taboo content should get the writer over the line, despite the rather bland style.

 

[Bamagan]

Two of the principal things AI detectors are doing when examining a text are checking for what is being called 'perplexity' and 'burstiness.' From scribbr:

Perplexity​

Perplexity is a measure of how unpredictable a text is: how likely it is to perplex (confuse) the average reader (i.e., make no sense or read unnaturally).

• AI language models aim to produce texts with low perplexity, which are more likely to make sense and read smoothly but are also more predictable.
• Human writing tends to have higher perplexity: more creative language choices, but also more typos.

Burstiness​

Burstiness is a measure of variation in sentence structure and length—something like perplexity, but on the level of sentences rather than words:

• A text with little variation in sentence structure and sentence length has low burstiness.
• A text with greater variation has high burstiness.

AI text tends to be less “bursty” than human text. Because language models predict the most likely word to come next, they tend to produce sentences of average length (say, 10–20 words) and with conventional structures. This is why AI writing can sometimes seem monotonous.

Low burstiness indicates that a text is likely to be AI-generated.

There's an incentive here on Lit to write 'paragraphs' that are single sentences or a few very short sentences for display purposes on small screens. Chopping things up like that makes it look more like AI, in part because AI is not great at making cohesive paragraphs.
I don't know what threshold the site uses for rejecting content on the probability that large sections of it are machine generated. That might depend on how much such content they're seeing, i.e., if they're getting flooded they might be inclined to reject anything as low as, say, a 25% chance of being machine-filled. Ordinarily I personally wouldn't blink unless it's closer to a 40% or 50% probability. But it's not hard to imagine them wanting to avoid getting too far into the weeds and setting a harsh line that results in more false positives in hopes of avoiding letting too many slip through.

 

[jaF0]

The whole text is very hard to read and follow as a scene.

"and her sex appeal and flirtatious behaviour encouraged me to invest a small chunk of my bonus money in her inebriation. She coquettishly intimated and exaggerated, hiking her short skirt higher when our drinks ran dry, before I staggered to buy replenishments."

That strikes me as the author having learned English later in life at school rather than speaking it from birth. Text like that could trigger a Bot detector since it doesn't flow naturally.

 

[Bramblethorn]

Two of the principal things AI detectors are doing when examining a text are checking for what is being called 'perplexity' and 'burstiness.' From scribbr:

Thanks for posting that - there was something about @grenefire's example which I didn't mention earlier because I couldn't figure out the best way to articulate it, but "low burstiness" would fit.

There's an incentive here on Lit to write 'paragraphs' that are single sentences or a few very short sentences for display purposes on small screens. Chopping things up like that makes it look more like AI, in part because AI is not great at making cohesive paragraphs.

Yep, and whatever Lit is using is almost certainly not trained specifically on Lit style.

I don't know what threshold the site uses for rejecting content on the probability that large sections of it are machine generated. That might depend on how much such content they're seeing, i.e., if they're getting flooded they might be inclined to reject anything as low as, say, a 25% chance of being machine-filled. Ordinarily I personally wouldn't blink unless it's closer to a 40% or 50% probability. But it's not hard to imagine them wanting to avoid getting too far into the weeds and setting a harsh line that results in more false positives in hopes of avoiding letting too many slip through.

Particularly since this seems to be their philosophy for other stuff like possible under-age content - Laurel will send it back to the author and ask "was there any under-age?" rather than read through closely, on the first instance. As long as there is an avenue for authors to ask for her to take a closer look, it doesn't have to be a huge problem.

 

[bawdybloke]

The whole text is very hard to read and follow as a scene.

"and her sex appeal and flirtatious behaviour encouraged me to invest a small chunk of my bonus money in her inebriation. She coquettishly intimated and exaggerated, hiking her short skirt higher when our drinks ran dry, before I staggered to buy replenishments."

That strikes me as the author having learned English later in life at school rather than speaking it from birth. Text like that could trigger a Bot detector since it doesn't flow naturally.

British born; English is my mother tongue. It's a short story that came to me while I was on a conference call that should have been an e-mail. That sentence is the result of too much editing; it was originally three! Reading as a tale, I never saw that as problematic. In isolation, it jars.

 

[bawdybloke]

https://literotica.com/s/the-surprise-83 has been published.

The note confirming that it is not AI generated worked. Although how long it is before AI generators will generate the note to say the AI generator produced human work, is anyone's guess!

 

[Zeb_Carter]

here is sampling some of what I wrote in the work that got flagged when I ran it though some AI detectors:


I anxiously clutched my daughter's hand as our plane took off. After hours of delays, we were finally on our way home.

The last week with Rachel had been life-changing, and I was unsure how I would feel being back in my Orthodox Jewish community.

"Mom, you okay?" Rachel asked.

"I guess I'm just worried about what will happen when we get home," I remarked.

"This week was great, but I understand if you want to pretend it didn't happen and we go back to how things were," Rachel said, a bit of sadness in her voice.

"I don't think I can do that," I trailed off.

We spent the rest of the flight holding each other tightly, trying to enjoy our last moments, pretending the rest of the world didn't exist.

Arriving at the gate, I took a deep breath before returning to my old life.

"Sarah! Rachel!" Robbie, my husband, called out as we left the terminal.

His smile was infectious, and it was clear that he was happy to see us. I wondered if he would still be excited to see his wife and daughter if he knew we had spent the last week as lovers.

"Hey, honey. I'm glad you're home. I missed you," Robbie beamed as he helped me put my bags into the car.

"I missed you too," I said, pecking him on the lips.

His lips were rough, and his stubble rubbed against my sensitive skin. It was a stark contrast to Rachel's soft skin and succulent lips. A wave of guilt washed over me. I couldn't believe I was comparing kissing my husband with kissing my daughter.


and some more:

As we turned onto Rivington Street, it suddenly dawned on me where she was taking me. While I had never been to Babeland, I had bought several vibrators from their website. I couldn't believe my daughter dared take me to a sex shop, but I excitedly entered the store with her.

"Hi. I'm Jasmine. Let me know if you have any questions. I am happy to help," the young clerk said.

Before I could say anything, Rachel spoke up.

"Actually, we could use your help. My girlfriend and I are looking to purchase our first strap-on, but we don't know where to start," my daughter explained.

I was shocked by Rachel's pronouncement but grinned widely at the image of fucking Rachel with a silicon cock.

"Great! I'm a big fan. So the first thing we need to do is find you a comfortable harness," Jasmine explained.

Jasmine led us to a display of harnesses. I was overwhelmed by all the different varieties, yet looking at Rachel, all I saw was glee in her eyes. She clearly was enlivened by all this.

"That one looks interesting," Rachel stated, pointing to a simple-looking leather harness.

"That is a perfect harness for beginners. It is very comfortable and can fit a variety of dildos. Here, try it on," she said, passing it to my daughter.

Rachel slid one leg up and then the other. She attempted to adjust the straps, pulling at the leather, but struggled to make it work.

"Let me help you," Jasmine smiled, showing us how to tighten the harness correctly.

"This feels great, Sarah. I can't wait to feel what it is like to have the cock hanging from it," Rachel beamed.

Just a few things that caught my eye as I scanned the text. Some are just what would be called grammatical errors. Others just strange usage something an AI might do because it didn't know better or it thought it was cute.

 

[grenefire]

Just a few things that caught my eye as I scanned the text. Some are just what would be called grammatical errors. Others just strange usage something an AI might do because it didn't know better or it thought it was cute.

I guess that is just how I write. I actually use a couple of websites with lists of different works for said, as well as sexual words, so that things are varied. I try to find the ones that feel right in those moments. I like to make them seem cute. Maybe I shouldn't. Most of my readers seem to like what and how I write.

 

[u1u1u1]

Here's a section of mine that GPTZero thinks is 40% AI generated:

"Take off your clothes," Tom commanded. Emily stripped methodically, keeping her eyes locked on Tom's as she dropped her dress, her camisole, her favourite black lace bra, and finally, her matching set of panties.

"Lie down on the bed," Tom instructed. Emily obeyed. Tom strung the chain of the cuffs through the bedstand and bound Emily's wrists together above her head, reminding her not to struggle, lest the cuffs dig too far into her wrists. He then blindfolded Emily, cutting off her sight. She delighted in the light touch of Tom's fingers as he delicately ran them across her nipples, down her stomach, and over her labia.

"Please don't be gentle," Emily said. "Hurt me. Degrade me. Humiliate me."

Tom stopped short. That had been his intention, of course, within consent. Still, he required Emily to address him with the proper honorifics during their sessions. Emily was still a novice sub. Her mistake was understandable, but it had presented a good opportunity for him to assert his dominance.

Reading that I immediately spot that I wrote "bedstand" when I meant "headboard", so maybe that's contributed to it.
Guess I'm glad my work has been sent back because it's caused me to scrutinise it much more closely. My last work was very successful so I suppose I was complacent about this one.

 

[Lordoflol]

https://literotica.com/s/the-surprise-83 has been published.

The note confirming that it is not AI generated worked. Although how long it is before AI generators will generate the note to say the AI generator produced human work, is anyone's guess!

It worked for me too but you're right, if all you need is a note, those who use AI Tools will do it in no time.

 

[u1u1u1]

Can confirm that my resubmitted draft was accepted with a note - woo.

 

[MillieDynamite]

Okay, just one sentence for now.

"Hey, honey. I'm glad you're home. I missed you," Robbie beamed as he helped me put my bags into the car.

What's inside the "..." isn't bad. It sounds real. But Robbie beamed; sounded terrible. Robbie said, don't use expressions in tags. Yes, AI does that. So yes, it's gonna get kicked if there is much of that. Said, asked, told, are tags. Please don't say emphaticly or bodily. Just the tag, and if you must add to this, do so in a descriptive sentence with few, if any, adverbs.

 

[SyleusSnow]

There are a few sites where you can test snippets of your word against these AI detectors.

This one gives an overall score plus highlights what pieces it sees as suspect: https://sapling.ai/ai-content-detector

Of course, its opinion won't be the same as others, including whatever Lit has started using, but it's a start.

 

[grenefire]

The problem is with these detectors is that they pick up writing that is written by humans

 

[grenefire]

Okay, just one sentence for now.



What's inside the "..." isn't bad. It sounds real. But Robbie beamed; sounded terrible. Robbie said, don't use expressions in tags. Yes, AI does that. So yes, it's gonna get kicked if there is much of that. Said, asked, told, are tags. Please don't say emphaticly or bodily. Just the tag, and if you must add to this, do so in a descriptive sentence with few, if any, adverbs.

I use this site a lot because I find the basic Said, asked, told, gets boring to read and write after a while. Using different words connotes the tone that I’m trying to convey with the dialogue.

https://www.yourdictionary.com/articles/other-words-said-synonyms

 

[theWollstonecraftWoman]

I’d seen her a few times at our local nightclub; I only visited the intimate small town establishment on Thursday nights, when the DJ played rock music, and only when my work rota permitted it. The young brown-haired lady I watched from the raised bar area was present on every occasion I frequented the basement nightspot. But she was out of my league; she exuded confidence and sexuality, dressed to attract attention, and had the erotic power of a porn star. I was a 33-year-old slightly overweight divorcee with the start of a receding hairline.

The first couple of times I saw her, I was just one of another 300 revellers in the nightclub. The time after that, we spoke. I bought her a drink at the bar, and we chatted above the thumping beat of AC/DC and the nostalgic melodies of Green Day.

Then just last week, she teased me; we got a table at the rear of the club, next to the coat check, and beside the bar. The alcohol helped; I always found it difficult to speak to new people, but we conversed easily, and her sex appeal and flirtatious behaviour encouraged me to invest a small chunk of my bonus money in her inebriation. She coquettishly intimated and exaggerated, hiking her short skirt higher when our drinks ran dry, before I staggered to buy replenishments.

Khristyna blew kisses with her soft red lips, and she daintily rubbed the back of my hand as she discussed sex. I’d evaded the subject and had not mentioned my proclivities. My divorce was still raw, and I had found it difficult to find women who had similar perverted kinks in the small Cheshire town. Instead, I imagined the scenes of depravity that the coquettish Lithuanian described as she revealed her fantasies and experiences. However, as my alcohol consumption rose, I shared more of my sexual desires.

She giggled as she saw my expression, adjusted her tight top and suggested we get another round of drinks. Clearly, I was on a promise.

Actually, she had tormented me. The Eastern European immigrant had seduced and then discarded me, kissing me goodbye as she staggered from the nightclub to “go home” to her flat. She promised to text me as she shimmied out of the club, wiggling her bum in her incredibly tight skirt before she ascended the stairs.

For days, she dominated my sex-heavy dreams; I fantasised about running my lips over her naked bosom and parting her legs to explore her wondrous womanhood. Probably waxed or shaved, hairless to not impede my view. Each night, I visualised the ravishment of the cheeky sex bomb, and I woke to a painful erection.

I discussed my predicament with my friend the day before the next nightclub session; the assistant nurse was an accomplished womaniser and had the phone numbers of the shadiest contacts in the small town. “Twenty five quid,” he suggested. “It’s a drug that loosens inhibitions. She’ll be gagging for it. Just slip it into her drink and bone her!”

It sounded unethical and illegal. A medical consultant should not entertain the clandestine application of drugs to a sexual partner, and yet the following day I dressed to visit the nightclub with a small sealed paper packet in my pocket, intending to tip the contents into Khristyna’s drink. I knew she’d be there; she messaged me.

That Thursday night, I arrived as the doors opened, bagging the table in the far corner. The dark venue, lit by strobe lighting across the nightclub, left a few of the tables near the coat check in gloomy shadow.

Khristyna bounced over to me, dressed in a shiny black short skirt with a tight bustier and dark stockings. She grinned when she saw me and flounced onto the chair opposite. “Hiya Joe. I’ve had a crap day.”

“Drink?” I asked, and walked to the bar to buy her favoured tipple - a vodka and lemonade. My hands shook as I picked the hi-ball glass; there was no way for me to empty the contents of the paper packet in my pocket without a dozen witnesses seeing it.

As the night wore on, and Khristyna flirted more explicitly and drunkenly with me, my mind whirred as I struggled to find a way of getting the contents of the inch square paper sachet into her drink.

Under the cover of the club darkness, I ripped the top of the sachet in my right hand and gestured towards the stage. “Hey, isn’t that guy waving at you?” With one smooth motion, I reached for my beer on the table, emptying the white crystals into her glass.

My heart pounded. There were over 300 potential witnesses to what I had done, but as I waited for the shouts and challenges, no-one uttered a word. “What guy?”

“Oh, he’s gone now.”

The dark-haired beauty chuckled, and I hurried to the toilet to calm my nerves before returning to the table to buy us both another drink. But the polluted tipple worked; she kissed me, sliding her dainty hands over my navy shirt.

She tasted divine; the harsh bitterness of the lemons on her tongue with the sensual beauty of the Lithuanian kitten. “Let’s go,” she whispered, nibbling on my ear. I couldn’t wait to depart, stumbling into the cool evening with my new sexual conquest. She opened the car door of a parked red vehicle nearby. “Taxi?”

The hooded driver grunted. “Yeah, where to?”

“17 Roseberry Gardens,” I replied, scooting in the back seat with the sexual powerhouse. Her hands rubbed my thighs as she pushed her lips onto mine, and the ten-year-old car lurched forwards. She could not stop touching me; I tugged at her tight rubberised corset, exposing her large breasts on her lissom frame to my fingers.

Touching her nipples sent a frisson of excitement to my cock as I rolled the points between my fingers. She pushed her lips onto mine as the car sped along the streets, braking gently at our destination. “We’re here,” the driver muttered, reaching into my pocket to get my wallet and pay our cabbie.

Hands grabbed my wrists, pulling them away from my body towards the front seat. Two clicks signified she had cuffed me in one smooth motion. Khristyna smirked as she readjusted her corset and picked my wallet from the floor.

“You can’t do this,” I spat. They had set me up to be mugged, and I looked out of the window; this was not my house, but a desolate industrial estate.

None of this checks as being AI. However, you have a lot of double spaces in the text.