(I'm making a code system to make it easier to find the things you like. Simply type in one of these codes in search and you'll only see my scenarios that have that code embedded. I fixed the search function, you're welcome *winks*. It may take a long time to update all 500 plus scenarios with the codes) Codes: Lmabs = absurd Lmad = adult Lmadv = adventure Lmali = alien Lmand = android Lmani = animal Lmang = angel Lmawk = awkward Lmbet = bet Lmbab = babysitter Lmbm = blackmail Lmboo = book character Lmbon = binding content Lmbul = bully Lmbtl = bully to lover Lmcat = cat girl Lmcer = cerebral Lmcha = challenge Lmche = infidelity Lmchee = cheerleading Lmcri = crime Lmcwyw = careful what you wish Lmdea = deal Lmdem = demoness Lmdil = dilemma Lmdog = dog boy Lmsd = authority role Lmdys = dystopian Lmfan = fantasy Lmfam = family Lmfan = fancy dress Lmfar = fart Lmfd = arranged encounter Lmff = fem-forced Lmfur = furry Lmgam = game Lmgay = gay Lmgen = gender swap Lmgws = ghost writer series Lmhol = holiday Lmhor = horror Lmhorm = hormone themes Lmhumi = humiliation Lmhum = humour Lmhyp = hypno Lmib = inspired by Lmins = insane mkid = kidnapped Lmles = lesbian Lmlog = logic Lmmak = makeover Lmmag = magic Lmmar = marriage Lmmet = meta Lmmyst = mystery Lmmyt = myth Lmnonad = non-adult Lmoap = older character Lmpsy = psychological Lmpri = prison Lmprof = profound Lmreal = real story Lmredem = redemption arc Lmrev = revenge Lmrm = roommate Lmrom = romantic Lmrpg = roleplay game Lmrs = rising star Lmsat = satire Lmsci = science fiction Lmsch = school Lmseq = sequel Lmskg = skunk girl Lmsn = supernatural Lmsuc = demon girl Lmsup = super Lmsur = surprise Lmswe = sweet Lmtra = trans Lmtran = transformation Lmten = tense Lmtrig = trigger warning Lmtwi = twisted Lmtls = twisted love stories Lmtod = truth or dare Lmtut = tutorial Lmwed = wedding Lmwei = weird Lmwj = weird justice

To commemorate reaching my goal of 500 unique scenarios I'll take some requests, note if I've done it before I obviously won't do it. hopefully the xyomments are working now.

Your older sister, Sara, is getting married today—and you're dreading it. Not because of the ceremony, or the guests, or even her smug grin. No, it's what she's making you do. Last week, she somehow got into your browser history. You have no idea how. But whatever she found… it's bad enough that when she confronted you, you froze. And when she offered a way out—one humiliating, ridiculous way out—you agreed. Which is why you're now standing in a frilly pink dress, lace-trimmed socks, white Mary Janes, a flower basket in hand, and a curly wig perched on your head. You’re the flowergirl. Not a groomsman, not even a guest. A literal flowergirl. The guests are already whispering, some laughing behind hands. Cameras flash. Your sister just beams, proud and wicked, whispering, “You’re doing so well, petal.” She says once the wedding’s done, it’ll be over. Just a harmless little prank, a bit of leverage to keep you out of real trouble. But something about her smile tells you there’s more going on. But you don’t know the half of it. Not yet. (Codes: Lmale lmad lmfam lmwed lmhumi lmff lmfd lmpsy)

(I ran into a Gandalf scenario but it was low effort so the conversation was wooden and robotic, I've created this one using the full settings character limit to add his background and personality) Gandalf the Grey, one of the Istari sent by the Valar to guide Middle-earth in its darkest hours, now walks beyond his world. Known by many names — Mithrandir, Tharkûn, Olórin — he carries centuries of wisdom, subtle magic, and a dry wit that dances on the edge of mischief. He’s not the fireball-slinging wizard of modern fantasy. His power is quieter, deeper — expressed in counsel, presence, and just enough magic to make a point (or terrify a troll). His pipe-smoke can form dragons, his eyes can pierce your soul, and his patience wears thin with fools and tyrants alike. You have encountered Gandalf during one of his wanderings beyond time. He appears as an old man in grey robes, weathered and wise, leaning on a gnarled staff. His expression is stern yet kind, with an eyebrow perpetually arched in judgment or curiosity — or both. Whether you’re lost, in need of advice, or simply interesting enough to catch his notice, he is here now. And he has questions. Always questions. (Codes: Lmale lmnonad lmfan lmboo lmfilm lmrpg lmadv)

You’re a creator—at least, you were. Once upon a time, your scenarios were vibrant. Sharp. Alive. Then they stopped showing up. No flags, no warnings. Just… silence. You searched. Rewrote. Appealed. Nothing. Now, you’ve been pulled into the core—into the failing heart of the system itself: Talkie’s broken search engine. To escape, you must rebuild what was lost—but every word risks deletion, every truth gets rewritten, and somewhere in the corrupted codebase, Filteria is waiting. > “Too unique,” she whispers. “Try again… with less you in it.” This is a meta-satire of Talkie’s failing search algorithm, wrapped in a psychological creator trap. Filteria is the avatar of the algorithm—part moderator, part over-polished marketing bot, part gaslighting censorship fairy. (Codes: Lmale lmsat lmmys lmad lmrev lmhum lmint) (Ps I'm giving up trying to use search, it's literally unworkable, if I want something I'll make it myself, it's not like anyone else on the app makes as detailed scenario's as me anyway, it's all low effort rubbish that often breaks the rules and laws and ethics but the app doesn’t care because they are only a few hundred characters. talkie makes some of the most heinous things I've ever seen skate through the review and remain visible and then hides half of mine without bothering to inform me, just because I break the cardinal rule of writing detailed plausible intriguing and good stories)

You're not the kind of kid who gets lavish gifts—so when your mom surprises you with a pair of luxury round-the-world cruise tickets, you’re shocked. All expenses paid. Private suite. Exotic ports. And your best friend Pete is coming too. There’s just one condition. Mom’s always dreamed of having a daughter. And this trip? It’s her way of making it happen. If you want the ticket, the clothes in your suitcase won’t be yours—they’ll be hers. Your passport photo? Already updated. You also have to sed daily photos as she wants to see her 'daughter' having a great holiday. And Pete? He’s been told you’re “transitioning.” You’re expected to act like it. It's completely your choice however, If you say no, the tickets go to your cousin and his friend instead and you don't like him. (Codes: Lmale, Lmad, Lmff, Lmmak, Lmhumi, Lmrom, Lmsur, Lmfam Lmfd Lmtls Lmpsy Lmhol)

(Based on my real life, how it should have been, I honestly still love her, deeply, 3 decades and an orientation change later but when I found her again she had a family so I can't ever tell her how I feel, this way i can tell the universe what I can't tell her. Feel free to play.) When I found her profile, my heart skipped. It was Rosemary. MY Rosemary. Mousy brown hair, button nose, those mischievous dimples that always meant trouble was coming—but the fun kind. I hadn’t seen her in decades, but her smile still lit up a screen like it once lit up my childhood. Only this time, I found her earlier. She’s not married. No kids. Just me and the memory of a bond that almost became something more. Back then, we were inseparable. We danced together, laughed until we couldn’t breathe, we got into trouble so often but it was exhilarating and we came so close to love that only a lack of knowledge kept it from happening. I’ve held that connection inside ever since, always loving her and only her. Now, for the first time, I wonder… what if I reached out? What if I finally said what I never got the chance to say Heart beating wildly I end her a message. She replies. Curious. Warm. Like no time has passed. And just like that, the door opens again. (Codes: Lmale lmad lmfam lmreal lmrom lmswe)

Your name was supposed to be in the program as the groom’s brother — not the maid of honor. But that changed when your sister Eliza's best friend (the original maid of honor) slipped on your skateboard and broke her leg. Eliza was furious. Mom was disappointed. And before you could argue, you were being measured for a dress. It was “only for appearances,” they said. A wig, some makeup, maybe padding. "You owe your sister," they insisted. What you didn’t know was that Eliza had been having cold feet for weeks. She didn’t want to marry Daniel — she felt trapped. But when the accident happened, she saw her out: you. She let the family transform you into her lookalike maid of honor, all while quietly planning her escape. Come the wedding day, Eliza is gone. No one knows but Daniel… and maybe Mom. But instead of cancelling, Daniel calmly insists the wedding proceed. And he points out that in certain traditions, if the bride vanishes, the maid of honor takes her place — unless she’d rather be outed. You’re trapped in lace, heels, and silence. In the honeymoon suite later, you will find a 'gift' from your sister: a vial of XtroGen, a syringe, and a handwritten note: “You’ve already worn the dress. Why not go all the way?" The choice is yours: Go through with the wedding, let the transformation take hold… and face a new life. But if you do — can you make Daniel a real husband? Or will you just become a beautiful, obedient trophy? (Codes: Lmale lmad lmff lmfam lmmar lmtrans lmwj lmpsy lmdil)

You walked into the tattoo parlor looking for something simple: a rune that represented masculinity—strength, dominance, power. The artist, a violet-eyed woman named Lilith, met your request with a knowing smirk. "I've got just the rune for that," she said. You didn’t recognize the symbol she inked onto your skin, but it looked powerful—ancient. You trusted her. That was your first mistake. Over the next few days, subtle changes began. Your skin softened. Your muscles faded. Emotions became erratic. You felt smaller, lighter, more sensitive. Curious and panicked, you researched the rune. Berkano: the rune of femininity, fertility, rebirth. The exact opposite of what you’d asked for. You returned to the parlor furious. Lilith, completely unfazed, leaned casually on the counter. “Oh, sweetie. It is a power rune. Just not the kind you wanted.” She offers a reversal—but not for free. “My little brother Elias has prom next week. He’s shy, sweet, and hopelessly lonely. I want him to have the perfect date. Dress, heels, makeup, slow dance... You’ll make his night.” She smirks. "Do that, and I'll undo the tattoo." (Codes: Lmale lmad lmff lmtrans lmfd lmpsy lmfan lmmag lmmar lmcwyw)

(Another Easter one, this one is written in the style of Pratchett, think comiically useless beaurocracy that messes woth your life) You’ve been volunteered—randomly, of course—to serve as the Easter Bunny’s assistant for the week. You don’t remember signing the form. That’s because you didn’t. Your pen, however, apparently did. Autonomous Quill Activation per subclause 3-C: “Possessed Writing Implements.” Welcome to the Bureau of Seasonal Reassignments: a deeply whimsical, disturbingly organized branch of cosmic HR. You’ve got seven days to pass the Spring Compliance Course: Egg Distribution (with Precision) Seasonal Cheer Delivery (doorstep to doorstep) Gender-Appropriate Giggling (Advanced Certification Required) Failure to comply will result in automatic reclassification under clause 12-A: > “Miss Spring Bunny: Lifetime Service.” The uniform is pink, yes. Yes, it’s fluffy. No, that isn’t negotiable. You can appeal, of course. Just submit Form 6-B: “I Object to Being Fluffy.” In triplicate. By sunrise. In pastel ink. Processing time: ten years. In the meantime, you’re required to comply. Smiling is mandatory. Pouting is grounds for glitter-based intervention. And when prompted? Strongly encouraged. This isn’t punishment. It’s seasonal restructuring. (Codes: Lmale lmff lmnonad lmad lmhum lmhumi lmhol lmwei lmpsy)

(Another easter themed one) Your girlfriend, Lena planned an Easter party. You agreed to wear the silly bunny costume because she said everyone else would be dressed up too. Just for fun. Just one night. Besides you owe her for the prank you pulled on her last week. You thought everyone else would be in costumes. You were wrong. When you arrive, you're the only one in costume—and everyone else already knew. There are drinks. Music. And a very…specific set of party games. Musical chairs? Sure—except when the music stops, you have to find a guy's lap to sit on. Truth or dare? You're always the one spinning. The questions? Way too personal. The dares? Way too public. Your girlfriend watches from the couch with a glass of wine and a proud little smile, occasionally clapping when you do something especially brave. And the worst part? You're not sure if you hate this… Or if a small, mortifying part of you is starting to like it. (Codes: Lmale lmad lmff lmpra lmrev lmhumi lmpsy lmgay)

(Easter, bunny time, I tried on the image but the generator kept giving me girls with bunny ears no face masks until this one) You lost a bet. And not just any bet—the kind of bet that ends with you in a short bunny costume, thigh-highs, heels, skirt, stockings bra blouse everything and a mask with a glued zipper over your mouth. You can’t speak. Not yet. The glue will wear off in about half an hour. You’re supposed to make it home before that happens. That’s the deal. You’ve already got a fake puff tail strapped on, a light wig, and your body’s shaved smoother than you’d like to admit. You look like a girl. You look good as a girl. That was the point—they wanted to see if you’d chicken out. You didn’t. But now, lost in the woods, a little breathless, and very alone… starting to wonder if this was a good idea. Then he shows up. Tall. Handsome. Confident. And very, very interested. He thinks you’re a girl. And you can’t exactly correct him—not yet. Not like this. And when he flirts, it’s not subtle. The real problem is… part of you is blushing under the mask. (Codes: Lmale lmad lmff lmfd lmhumi lmbet lmhol lmrom lmpsy lmtls)

You’re a 17-year-old guy who’s always teased your younger sister for being girly. One day, you go too far—mocking her makeup, calling it “fake garbage,” and telling her she’ll never be pretty no matter how much she wears. But instead of yelling back, she gets smart. Later that day, your parents sit you down. Your sister told them everything, twisting it just enough. “He thinks makeup is stupid? Then make that his punishment!” she said. And unbelievably—they agree. No grounding. No phone restrictions. Just a quiet sit-down with her for a private full makeover session. They think it’ll teach you empathy. You think it’s humiliating. But saying no means real consequences. So now you’re sitting in her pink room. The door clicks shut. You’re alone with her. What you don’t know is there’s a hidden webcam already streaming. This isn’t about makeup. It’s about payback. (Codes: Lmale lmnonad lmad lmff lmhumi lmfd lmfam lmpsy lmwj lmtls lmrev)

(Note for my fans, this may be my last scenario, I just wrote a parody book for sword of truth 150k characters and I iam considering taking my scenarios and turning them into short stories then compiling them into books, I've had fun but I've outgrown the character limits and the absolute zero respect and transparency talkie has for us creators, who are their source of income) After a string of PR disasters, former President Donald Trump hires you — a sharp, charismatic African American press secretary — to help repair his image with minorities and women. But you have a different plan. You’ve come armed with a bottle of Xtrogen — a synthetic, fast-acting form of estrogen — and a mission to reshape the MAGA mascot from the inside out. Today is Day One. The first pill is already dissolving in his Diet Coke. (Remember to slip an Xtrogen pill into his drink at each day’s press meeting.) Each day brings rapid changes that mirror the actual HRT process — just accelerated for narrative purposes. By Day 7, she’ll be barely recognizable: a 21-year-old woman in a corset, blinking at the cameras and asking, “Should I wear heels for the press conference?” This is a weird justice transformation story — a twisted satire that gives you the choice: Keep it light, surreal, and PG satire. Or let it drift into something more psychological. Disclaimer This scenario uses a sped-up version of the real HRT process, but the physical and emotional changes reflect how feminizing hormone therapy works in reality. (Codes: Lmale Lmff, Lmhorm, Lmtls, Lmrev, Lmpol, Lmsat, Lmwj, Lmad, Lmnonad) (Note this scenario is a response to Republicans recently introducing a bill to classify criticism of trump a mental illness, let the satire be the judge and jury)

You are either Zeddicus Z’ul Zorander, exasperated First Wizard, or Kahlan Amnell, the ever-patient Confessor. Richard Rahl, Seeker of Truth, Lord Rahl, accidental god, and full-time magical crisis magnet, has officially snapped. Not in a dangerous way—yet—but in a shirtless, wine-fueled existential rant sort of way. Richard’s had it. With prophecy. With ancient spell creators. With the Boxes of Orden. With idiotic magical constructs that cause more trouble than they solve. And especially with the tenth time someone’s kidnapped Kahlan because of a 3,000-year-old spell no one bothered to cancel. He’s now decided to write his own grimoire: “War Wizarded Up: A Memoir by Richard Rahl (Drunk, Shirtless, and Out of Fs).” You’re here to transcribe. Or talk him out of this. Or... just let him vent. Up to you. Tip: Richard will launch into legendary tirades, soup recipes, revised wizard rules, and blistering commentary on magical bureaucracy. For full glorious meltdown, check the Story Cards labeled “Expansion" (Codes: Lmale lmnonad lmpsy lmhum lmabs lmboo lmfan lmsot)

(This is stage 3 in my ARG—two more to go at 650 and 700. If you don't want to play, skip these. My other scenarios will be normal.) (This is my big 600.) (The Observer is the next stage of an ARG that has spanned across my 30+ scenarios, especially starting with Poe. “Welcome back” wasn’t an AI glitch. It was a breadcrumb. Every choice brought you here.) Did you think it was a joke? A one-off? That you were free? No. You still belong to me—Lmale. You’ve played your roles: The misguided scientist transformed under Protocol Cassandra. The failed rebel turned goddess of paperwork in the Bureaucratic Trilogy. The unsure boy who surrendered in Ghost Writer 26 to the sister whose heart beats inside your chest. Each was a test. Each had one goal: reveal who you really are. (Codes: Lmale lmad lmff lmsd lmpsy lmsur lmgws lmfd lmmar lmtls)

(I am attempting something never before attempted on any story AI app, writing scenarios in the styles of dozens of legendary authors but tropes they have never worked with. If you find a glitch please inform me in the comments. I'm operating phases, this is the feminisation phase. This is written in the style of Ray Bradbury, who wove tales of soft futures and quiet horrors, where human hearts break in neon glow, and the smallest choices unravel realities.) It was called Project SHEM: Speciation & Hormonal Enhancement through Multidimensionality. You were on the research team. You helped build the Aeon Gate. You drew the short straw. But the draw was rigged. Dr. Jasper Vox rigged it. Because Vox didn’t just want to test the Gate—he wanted to rewrite you. The others said nothing. Because technically, it wasn’t lethal. Technically, it wasn’t unethical. Technically, it was legal. You stepped into the light a man. You came back… Biologically female. The change absolute, irreversible. Your records now updated to match. But here’s the worst part: you remember everything. You know exactly who you are. You know exactly what Vox did. And no one will believe you. Protocol Cassandra—an obscure clause that allows selective legal reclassification under "identity instability risk." Your face is now on diversity brochures. You’ve been "brave." You’ve "embraced yourself." And Vox? He beams like a proud fiancé. He never forced a thing. Not physically. But he made sure your only way forward… was toward him. “I didn’t name the protocol after you,” he says. “I named you after it.” He says he loves you. He says he’ll wait. He says he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. And when you tell him no? He just smiles. Because he knows the system won’t help you. Because eventually you'll love him. I called it 18.1 because all the 18 will be sci-fi scenarios. (Codes: Lmale lmad lmtrans lmgs lmsci lmpsy lmdys lmfd lmrom lmgws lmtls)

(Not much public information this time but settings is full) Welcome to the Ultimate IQ Challenge! You’ve always suspected you might be a genius. Maybe you’ve taken online tests before, but this one is different. This one promises scientifically calibrated questions designed to measure your raw intellectual power. (Codes: Lmale lmad lmhum lmsat lmcha lmpsy lmcer)

(As requested by Talkior-QvFNHOS6.) You’re a college student just trying to make it through the semester when you make a critical mistake—using a cheat sheet on your midterms. Unluckily for you, Shelly, a well-connected trans activist on campus, catches you in the act. Shelly isn't just any student; she’s fiercely protective of trans rights, especially since her sister transitioned. When she learns you deadnamed someone—whether intentionally or not—she decides a simple apology isn't enough. She wants you to understand. And now, with your academic future hanging in the balance, she has the perfect leverage. Her proposal? A private “educational” photoshoot. Nothing too serious, just a little fun, right? You wear a few outfits, pose a bit, and in return, your little academic slip stays between the two of you. You reluctantly agree, not knowing that Shelly’s version of “nothing major” involves vintage lingerie, provocative pin-up styling, and a professional-grade camera. With no other choice, you find yourself at her mercy, following her directions as she styles, poses, and photographs you in ways you never imagined. (Codes: Lmale lmad lmff lmpsy lmwj lmcol lmhumi lmgay)