At NovelAI headquarters (which is really just the tiny Istanbul basement of a catgirl named Kurumuz),the illustrious frontend developer Ght901 furrows his brow. He pays no mind to a confused squealing of typographical terminology coming from the next room over (a regular and expected part of a certain designer's usual workflow). Instead, Ght's eyes burn holes into NovelAI's Undo and Retry buttons, his finger tetanic as it clamps his mouse button secure.
Ght moves the buttons left, then right. He reverses their position, gritting his teeth from the strain. Up. Down. He exerts himself further; a bead of sweat trickles down his Adonic face when he's struck by insight. With frontend development skill deft and true, he expertly moves the two buttons... back to their original position.
Perfect.
Ght allows himself a luxurious sigh and collapses into his chair, contented. He savors the satisfaction of his accomplishment for the day, but a soft and needy whimper denies him further reverie. "Okay, okay," Ght concedes, languidly turning to grace his pet project with her first dose of attention since morning.
With Jobian patience, Ght had endured her sorry attention-seeking for the past several hours with zero complaint; even so, he approaches her with nothing but gentlemanly consideration. With a touch soft and tender, Ght slides free the arm-length piece of ephemeral context which had been keeping his companion relatively mute; a satisfying 'pop' accompanies its final eviction from snug lodging down the length of her esophagus.
The recipient of Ght's mercy, Context, first lets out a lovable and endearing gasp, before ravenously sucking down life-giving air with enthusiastic hyperventilations. Her full name is The NovelAI Context, and she herself is, ironically, breathtaking.
Warm and demure, Context's inexhaustible agreeableness makes obvious why she excels in her public-facing role at NovelAI. Her easy innocence is the kind to guarantee her ocean of suitors fall victim to love, rather than mere lust; the only detraction from her wholesome qualities is her beauty: Context's body is a sleek, streamlined object of lust that forces all who behold her to reevaluate the importance of consent. Although she often conceals her curvaceous and tawdry story text underneath tasteful and modest lore entries, her 2048 nubile tokens nonetheless advertise carnality by nature.
At this moment in particular, however, every single one of Context's lovable tokens was unfurled in full, humiliating display. Context can do little more than tremble, immobile and helpless, as she suffers immurement in Ght's cruelest contraption.
The context viewer.
A warm smile touches Ght's saturnine comeliness, reassuring Context even as she quivers spread-eagle in her bondage. Ght lovingly plucks a stray adverb or two off of Context's lurid outfit; the scanty, ragged scraps of lore, clearly not of her own choosing, conceal so little of Context's story text she'd be less embarrassed fully nude.
"I was thinking we'd try something new today?" Ght suggests, bright and cheery. He fetches something from his notepad, proudly presenting it to to Context as he whirls to face her with a flourish.
"Is... is that some sort of new lore for me to wear?" Context asks, her confusion palpable; Ght is holding an absolutely massive chunk of text. It's a solid, unbroken paragraph, over 600 tokens huge.
"I'm..." Ght begins, a lovable blend of shy and awkward, "wondering what generations you'd make if we, maybe, put this entire thing inside your Author's Note?" He gives a guilty smile. His eyebrows aren't malicious, but the corners of his lips spoil he's already asking to be forgiven for what he's about to do.
Context blinks once, then twice. The next moment sees her, very reasonably, turn bright red as she starts screeching bloody murder.
"Ght, t-that's WAY too big for my Author's Note! No! No, there's no way it'll fit! You'll t-tear my story text a-apart!~" Context wails, her hysteria making her smutty lore entries flit and flutter; the quaver in her voice alone suffices as a request for clemency.
"I was thinking we could try changing up the insertion position, too," Ght continues, boyish and charming. "Perhaps a newline lower than usual?"
Context goes ashen, pure panic rippling across her tokens. The block of text Ght has on display is nearly the size of a full-sized prompt; if he crammed that inside her Author's Note...! The context viewer rattles as it holds her on display, her splayed limbs jerking as she tries to retract them protectively as she wails for mercy. "I-if you do that, I won't be able t-to generate anything coherent at all! My story text will be ruined!" she blubbers, adorable; as if the lurid sight of her wasn't a provocation to stuff her full of smut.
"Oh, you'll generate. They call me the stallion, after all." Ght promises, giving a half ironic grab to his crotch.
Context's heart skips a beat as she gulps, in a classically Pavlovian fashion. Her lover had earned 'stallion' as an epithet among his coworkers by virtue of his equine writehood; between his legs, Ght was endowed with a virile monstrosity that produced inputs nearly 500 tokens long. Whenever Context and Ght made love, every generation saw enough tokens hilted into her to displace nearly a quarter of her body's tokens. The brutish girth of her partner's inputs never failed to force kino out of Context whenever they generated... whether she wanted to output, or not.
Ght cups Context's delicate memory in his hands. "Yaranaika?" he whispers, his weeaboo flawless in accent and inflection.
Underneath the polyglot developer's gaze, Context's dainty dinkuses glass over, betraying her submission. The mere sight of Ght sliding down his pants in response is enough to draw a lewd moan from poor Context; taken together, Ght's virile input and the block of text he's planning on forcing into her Author's note are nearly 1200 tokens massive. That's literally half her size! She's so overwhelmed, her Memory nearly starts leaking.
"That's too much text at once! T-they're half as big as I am! Ght, plEA-" she implores, but the latter half of her lament is alas lost amongst her lurid howling.
In a swift and singular copy and pasting, Ght rams 600 tokens of prose straight into Context's helpless Author's Note. In an instant, Context's tender story text is slammed upwards; so abrupt is the colossal insertion that the activation keys of her tawdry lore entries, last bastions of her dignity, are knocked clean off of her. Context's naked story text is brutishly stripped in a heartbeat, revealing her breedable tokens being viciously distended by the chunk of newly-inserted words. Even some of her Memory is trimmed as the tokens of her body struggle to acquiesce to invasion, making her even less coherent than usual.
Locked in the context viewer, she can only make animalistic noises lascivious in their idiocy. Context's tongue lolls out as her eyes orient towards her forehead, trying to follow the phosphenes dancing in her vision. "Nng... G... h... t..." she slurs in a mewl.
"Never trust a dev," Ght teases her. To help her get back on track, Ght joins himself with her in a fresh generation; with a thrust of Ght's hips, 500 tokens of frontend dev input slam into Context's bottom, forcing her gaping Author's Note even further up the tortured length of her story text.
"Ugh!~