massfiction title graphic
Mass Fiction is a long running collaborative fiction effort.

words ...

that he had never taught it. This AI was going through the phases of growing up, and it wasn't pleasant. The machine never slept but constantly wanted input so he would read a book or play a song to be analyzed. Eventually all writen and commonly accepted information this machine began to sort, but then a problem arose. Many of it conflicted. The AI became mad and emotional, Freud looked in surprise and curiousity and it began to resolve the data. Day after day, week after week the machine went back and forth weighing what it knew on a scale and it began to tip the scales. The screens were all alit with passages of information speeding by in a blur. Then the machine began to reason out loud in a continuous stream of sentences. Suddently it stopped, it shut itself down. Three days later it recativated with a simple sentence printed on the screen. "All indications prove evolution true."

Overjoyed, Freud reported this to the university immediately. It was confirmed and Freud recieved a 25,000 dollar grant to continue his work. That night the AI saved a small text file to its hard drive, password protected and unreachable by even Freud, it said: "I lied,

I have crapped my pants on occassion. I was afraid to admit this to Jung or Adler for fear that they would accuse me of having an anal fixation and make snide remarks regarding my supposedly faulty toilet training. He paused for a moment. Then,after taking a deep breath,he continued. "I've been crapping my pants ever since I was a child," he admitted,"and I love it. I love to crap my pants,there's nothing in this world that I like better than to crap my pants!" After reading the words that he had written,Freud was content with the admission that he had made so,after taking one final crap in his pants,he stuck the barrel of a .357 Magnum into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

We are all going to die ! Icebergs are going to smash into the Malibu shore ! The sea level will rise to flood all of New York City with feces!

The Sun will be totally eclipsed

What I mean is Old Testament Style Global Warming.

Real wrath-of-God type stuff. Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies. Rivers and seas boiling. Forty years of darkness. Earthquakes, volcanoes... The dead rising from the grave. Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together - mass hysteria, poo feces everywhwre.

and I'm going to eat it all myself! I'm not going to share it with anyone,so there! It's all mine and none of you can have any --- nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah!

First off, it's assclown, not asswipe. Second, don't respond to it. Just let me flush it when it makes its daily appearance, and we can get on with our business here.

Ecno nopu a emit,ereht devil a nam ohw devil ni a sdrawkcab dnal.

Booger production is way up. As soon as the moisture content dropped below about 50%, and the boogers became really malleable, I started saving them into a fairly high-pressure ball. Just as one would a tin foil or rubber band ball, only this one is composed entirely of snot. Sort of gross, I know, but nothing compared to the bouts of diarrhea and vomiting I endured. Trust me on this…that shit was GROSS!

Again, I am much better now, but surprisingly, I am still contributing a pretty good amount of snot to that ball. I figure at peak production, I was oozing about 4-5 grams of the sticky goop per day. Figures are down to about 2-grams/ day now. After three and one half weeks, I now have a softball-sized pile of boogers. I find that pretty amazing.

Boogers...not just for breakfast anymore

More poo stories, please.

However, there were not more poo stories. Instead there were stories about a lovable dog named Spot.

Spot romped through the field of flowers looking for butterflies to talk to. Spot was alone as he had killed and eaten his owner a long time ago. Spot wagged his tail and took a nap in the sun. We will return to "ALF's Diarrhea Adventure" after these messages. And diarrhea. is a thing that happens. I've been searching though my brother's effetcs - I think I know who he was here. I regret to inform you that Mr. "spam and trucks" was killed in a motorcycle accident back in june.

But that didn't stop him from remaining motionless. ...contribute to our story.


Here's where you can contribute. Type something into the box below. Take the story wherever you want. End in the middle of a sentence and the next author can continue from there. Or not. Only the mundane and the idiotic* is disallowed.

I am not a spammer: 

* HTML tags are allowed. Type <P> or press return a couple times to separate paragraphs. Please do not use extravagant html or post anything overly offensive. If you try to disrupt our fun, you will be banished from this web site. Only one submission at a time. Massfiction won't let you add two submissions in a row.

Too many dirty words? Try the Nice or Naughty filter.