The best 20B model so far for dirty storytelling.
Psyonic-Cetacen is a really good 20B model for most storytelling purposes, but it really shines in dark or action scenes. It can describe events and characters in vivid and non-synthetic details, especially when explictly asked for. Whenever you want a roleplay in a Friday-13 movie, a dirty cyberpunk or post-apocalypse or just some survival action-filled story, it's the best model to do so.
Just some example of writing a random characters for a hiking trip:
Lindsay was the group's unofficial leader, the one everyone turned to when shit hit the fan. Tall, athletic and with long blond hair tied in a high ponytail, she had piercing green eyes that seemed to bore through you whenever she was angry… which wasn't often, considering how laid-back she usually was. She wore tight jeans and a white tank top that accentuated her toned figure, showing off her small breasts encased in a lacy red bra. Her feet were clad in worn-out sneakers, ready for any kind of terrain. She was studying business administration at the university and already had an internship lined up at a prestigious firm after graduation. Ambitious, determined and practical, some might say cold and calculating. But you liked her just the way she was. After all, you two had been together since freshman year. Well, sort of. Nobody knew about your little secret, except maybe Shawn. He wouldn't tell, would he?
Shawn himself was the class clown of the bunch. Short, chubby and sporting a bushy beard, he looked more like a middle-aged accountant than a twenty-year-old college student. But don't let his appearance fool you - under that goofy exterior hid a sharp mind and quick reflexes. And man, could that guy drink! He was majoring in economics because, as he put it, "I'm good with numbers, duh." Yeah, sure, buddy. In reality, you suspected he chose it because it required the least effort possible. He was harmless most of the time, if a bit annoying sometimes. But he meant well. Most of the time. You tolerated him mostly because of Lindsay, but deep down you couldn't deny you guys got along pretty well. Like brothers, almost. Except without the whole incest thing. Probably.
Samantha was Lindsay's best friend from childhood. They did everything together, even shower sometimes, according to campfire stories. She was tall and slender like Lindsay, with long black hair cascading down her back and big brown doe eyes. Her tits weren't nearly as impressive as yours truly appreciated them should be, but what can you do? She made up for it with that ass though. Holy shit, that ass. She wore form-fitting khaki shorts and a pink tank top that showed off her toned midriff and defined abs. On her feet were a pair of hiking boots. Samantha was premed med, worked her ass off every single day and never complained once. A total nerd, but a hot one. You had tried your luck with her before, but no dice. Too bad, really. She deserved to loosen up a bit, have some fun…
Then there was Mark, the quiet one. Tall, lanky and pale, he always seemed lost in thought, his dark curly hair obscuring his face. He wore thick glasses perched on his aquiline nose and had a perpetual five o'clock shadow. He was studying astrophysics or something equally geeky, spending all his free time staring at the stars instead of talking to actual people. Not that anyone minded too much, though. He was a nice enough guy, just… distant. Sometimes you wondered why he even came along on these trips. Maybe for Lindsay, who knew? She seemed to have a thing for smart guys. Or maybe just for guys who didn't treat her like she was some sort of goddess. Either way, good for him. You hoped he wouldn't get too lonely out here, surrounded by loudmouths like Shawn and yourself.
And last but not least, there was Emily. The only girl among you guys, which made things… interesting, let's say. Short and thin, with twin black ponytails, thick-rimmed glasses and almost flat chest, she was an asshole. Not like the rich and beautiful asshole girls - no, she was a bitchy bookworm nerd, the worst kind possible. Always correcting everyone, always looking down on them. And don't get her started on you, James. God forbid. "You use 'alright' instead than 'all right', moron," she would sneer, "and I will rip your dick off and shove it up your ass!" Yeah, real classy, Emily. But damn if she wasn't cute when she got angry. Her choice of clothing today was typical Emily: baggy cargo pants tucked into knee-high socks and a white button-up blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Hiking boots completed the look. Of course they did. She was majoring in… something with maths. Who fucking cares? Just please shut up, okay?
As for you, James, well, you were used to turning heads wherever you went. Standing six foot two, you had broad shoulders tapering to a slim waist and powerful legs encased in tight khaki shorts and a blue T-shirt that accentuated your defined abs and V-shaped torso. Your chocolate hair fell messily over your green eyes, giving you a boyishly handsome look that women couldn't resist and men secretly envied. You kept your face clean-shaven except for a neatly trimmed stubble that framed your strong jawline perfectly. Your lips curved into a smirk now, thinking about how much fun you were going to have tonight with Lindsay once they all passed out from exhaustion. Or maybe even before, if you could find some excuse… Nah, don't be a douche, man. Give them at least until dinner.
But hey, you deserved a little fun after all those late nights studying and slaving away at the gym. Besides, everybody needs a release valve, right? You weren't a total prick. Mostly. You were friendly enough most of the time, charming and easygoing. A bit of a player, sure, but what can you do? It came naturally to you. Plus, who wouldn't want to spend some quality time with a guy like you?