Blume, Personal Fantasy Assistant

These are the first three chapters of my first attempt at a FMG, BE, Mini-GTS story that I've been willing to share. Please be kind if it's horrible.

If people like it, I'll post the rest.

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Robert stared at the ad that popped up on his screen. The pinks and blues done in metallic hues had been crafted using the handbook of porn. It even had the scantily clad woman biting her lip as she looked at him with what could only be called bedroom eyes.

A word bubble read, "I'm Blume. You're personal fantasy assistant."

It was yet another AI chatbot that would eventually start shouting racist memes or talking about killing himself.

But it was 2 a.m. on a Saturday and the 32-year-old call center manager was in his small ranch house by himself.

You'd think owning your own home would be enough to get you a date, he thought as he continued to stare at Blume.

The truth was that he had read all of his favorite porn too many times for it to be effective anymore. And he couldn't find anything else that was worth his time.

He was also three beers into this night, and looking at a long weekend. Maybe this AI chatbot wouldn't be an utter disaster.

He clicked on the ad, and a low moan came through his speakers.

"Jesus Christ. Have some decorum porn people."

He couldn't afford much, but he splurged on the high-speed Internet, so it didn't take too long for "Blume" to show up on his screen. She looked like a 20-something college student, dressed in a white cotton tank top and jeans.

He figured the porn breasts and lingerie packs came with extra money. That was the catch with all of these chatbots. Catch the lonely during their late-night alcoholic binges and then fleece them for all they're worth.

"Hi there, stud," her words flashed across in a word bubble.

He almost turned it off right there. He felt so stupid. What kind of pathetic guy interacts with a porn bot.

"The kind that is up at 2 a.m. on a Saturday and not getting laid," he muttered.

He was still fingering the keys a few minutes later debating on what to say to the porn bot, when another word bubble flashed onto the screen.

"Are you just going to leave me waiting all night?" The model smiled at him. She was cute in an invitingly girl-next-door kind of way.

"Sorry," he typed back. Then he got angry at himself for apologizing to the porn bot. But for a second, she felt like a real person.

"That's OK," Blume said. "You don't need to be afraid. We can just talk if you want."

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "Let's see what you can do, porn bot," he muttered to himself.

"Sure. So Blume, what exactly is a personal fantasy assistant?"

Blume smiled again. It was charming; even he had to admit it.

"I thought was pretty obvious. I help you fulfill your fantasies. If you're asking about my functions, I am a large language model AI with photo and video capabilities. I can help you with creating fantasies using text, photos or videos."

"So you can make porn?"

Blume frowned. Robert noticed that porn had become "p**n"

"I don't like that word. There are many fantasies that people can have that don't involve that word. Do you want to imagine yourself as a professional football player? How about as a wealthy billionaire? Do you want to see yourself as the homecoming king? I can make all of that possible."

"Wait? How do you know I'm a man?" Robert felt a little upset that the uppity porn bot was trying to pretend that it wasn't a porn bot.

"Sorry. I made an assumption. Ninety-five percent of Blume's users are men and you registered yourself as a man. Is this wrong? Should I correct your profile?"

Earnestness beats snark every time. He sighed. It was too late at night to be getting into a pissing match with the porn bot... no, the personal fantasy assistant.

"You got me. I'm a guy. My name is Robert. So how do I do this?"

"Well, what are your fantasies?"

"Blume. what are your security capabilities?"

The picture of Blume shifted so that she was sitting behind a console in what looked like a mid-2000s action movie. He had to admit that she looked pretty good in the tank top and fatigues. "Sir. Completely 100 percent secure. Sir."

Her model saluted before cracking a smile. "You don't have to worry about any of your data being transferred off of your computer. Everything is stored locally."

Her model shifted again. This time she became the big-breasted model wearing a daring piece of lingerie. "So you don't have to worry about anyone finding out about your special secrets." Her model winked before switching back to her original white tank top and jeans.

Well, I guess the sexy stuff isn't behind a paywall.

"I thought you said you weren't a p**n bot?"

She shook her head and looked at him exasperated. "I am a personal fantasy assistant. I do not like that word. Have some class, Robert. I only engage with classy young men. I will end this session if you can't avoid that word."

"OK. Blume. I promise to be a classy young man." Robert answered as he looked through his computer files to find a random photo. He came across one from Ms. Miller next door.

He liked old Ms. Miller. She had been a real firecracker when she was young in the 1960s. She was at Woodstock. She always told him the most salacious stories in the most old lady kinds of ways.

And he had seen pictures of her when she was younger. Her tan skin and high cheekbone combined with defiant eyes, she was gorgeous. That's not to mention that she had a nice hourglass figure. Robert guessed they were at least a DD, if not bigger.

Now though, she was bent and frail after her freewheeling free-love youth. She could barely move around her house. Those great breasts had sagged down, and she wasn't catching any new men.

He still liked helping her with yard work. Gardening was how he relaxed after a week of listening to people whine about queue times. Her husband had passed about 10 years ago, and she needed someone to tend to his garden.

He found the photo he was looking for. It was probably taken about two years ago in front of her garden. She was wearing a light sweater and he could just make out the outline of her figure. She was smiling and her gray hair was styled.

One of Robert's passing fancies is wondering what she would look like if she was younger.

He almost felt guilty for what he was about to do. But it was 2 a.m. on a Saturday, and he now had a personal fantasy assistant. So what the hell?

"Can you process photos?"

"Of course I can. Just drag the file onto my picture and take it from there. Do you have something steamy?"

Robert ignored the innuendo and watched as Blume made a series of faces as the file transferred over.

"Hrm? So is that what you're into?" Blume said while getting noticeably older and hunching her back.

"Hey. I thought we were being classy. I don't need my personal fantasy assistant mocking my personal fantasies. Capeche?"

Blume went back to normal. "You're right. I wasn't being classy. What is your fantasy?"

"Can you make her look younger?"

"No sweat." Blume moved her hands like she was doing some sort of conjuring and a photo came up that looked damn close to the old photos he had seen of Ms. Miller. Right down to the haughty look in her eye and the impressive bust. Her sweater had moved away from her jeans a little bit showing a flat and tight stomach. And her jeans had filled in with what he expected was an impressive set of legs.

She looked like Playboy material here.

He could feel himself react to the photo. He couldn't bring himself to start wacking it in front of Blume. He didn't want her judging him.

"Did I do a good job?" Blume asked.

Robert had to give the developers some credit. Blume did a good job of asking the right questions to prompt the conversation.

"You did a great job, Blume. I was wondering if you can make a few more changes?"

"You bet I can," she smiled and then winked. "I am your personal fantasy assistant. What changes would you like to make?"

"I was wondering what she would look like if she was taller, but all of the same proportions?"

"How much taller would you like her to be? I calculate her height right now to be 5' 3"."

That was some impressive math to figure out from just a picture. He imagined what it might be like to look up at her. He was 6' 2", so he typed, "Let's go for 6' 5"."

Blume smiled and nodded. "Your wish is my command."

She went back to waving her hands, and the image changed. She expanded, but the sweater didn't. Instead, it became both pushed out and more of her stomach was revealed. Her jeans looked painted on, and for some reason Blume added heels to her sandals, making her even more impressive.

"Great job Blume. One more thing. Can you add a little muscle tone? Make her fitness model built, but don't change her breasts," he thought for half a second. "Make them a little bigger."

"You doubt my abilities?" Blume's outfit changed to a caricature of a French painter. She moved around an invisible paintbrush, and Ms. Miller's photo changed again.

Her stomach tightened and he could see just the hint of a six-pack. Her sweater became a tube top that stopped above her chest. And her breasts became something between a volleyball and a beach ball.

Her legs appeared to contract a bit as the fat fell away and hardened. He could only imagine what they looked like under the denim. And in a cheeky touch, Blume changed the photo so she was flexing for the camera.

God. That picture was going to fuel weeks' worth of wanking.

"You did a great job, Blume. You said you could write stories as well?"

"Whatever you desire. What kind of things should our amazon be doing? Is she going tomb raiding? Or maybe she's competing to be a professional basketball player? Or are you looking for something a little more sexy?"

Blume waggled her eyebrow at that last bit. Robert sighed. But looking at the photo, he wanted something a little more sexy.

"Here is the scenario. I want a story where I help the old Ms. Miller with something around her garden, and when I come inside she starts changing into the sexy Ms. Miller. She throws herself at me and keeps changing until she is like how she is in the picture. We have wild sex. Oh and make sure I'm able to satisfy her."

He didn't know why he added that last part, but it seemed important.

"Great. So a couple of follow-up questions? First, do these changes last outside of the scope of the story?"

Robert thought it was an odd question like she was creating some sort of shared porn universe for him.

"No. When the story ends, everything goes back to the way it was. Except, maybe she is a little healthier than she is now."

"Great. And is there any other particular fetish that you want in here? Should there be BDSM? Feet?"

He felt a little awkward. "No. Just straight sex. But make her a bit aggressive."

"Sure. I can get that done in a jiffy." Blume suddenly appeared behind a writer's desk and in a couple of minutes she appeared standing in her same jeans and tank top. "I'm done. Do you want me to save it?"

"Sure. Where did you put the file?"

"It will be in your Documents folder in the folder listed Blume's stories. All ready for your sweet little eyes."

Robert let out a yawn. He didn't feel like he could read this story while Blume was watching him. "Goodnight Blume."

"Goodnight Robert. Have fun reading the story."

He shut down the window, a little upset that he had said goodnight to a computer program. She wasn't a real person, but the model's developers performed miracles with her. She talked something like a real woman.

He clicked open the story. He noticed that Blume included the picture she had created. It was a nice touch. The story was a bit basic, but it was good enough to jack off.

He turned in for the night and prepared for a perfectly normal Sunday.

Chapter 2

Sunday was Robert's yard work day. He loved to get out in the sun and play in the dirt. It was the only way he had left to connect with his parents, who died in an accident years ago now.

He knelt in the soil, pulling the few weeds that had crept up during the week. He watered the plants and made sure they looked healthy.

I wonder what Blume would think about me being an avid gardener, he thought before almost immediately kicking himself. Blume might be good at playing at being a human, but she wasn't a human. He needed to stop thinking about her like she had wishes and feelings.

He desperately needed a real girlfriend.

His problem was that he just had problems talking to women. Not that he couldn't communicate with them, but he couldn't talk to them in a way where they would agree with having a relationship with him. Sure he'd had a couple of relationships when he was younger and had sex once or twice.

He just needed to figure out how to talk to women in a way that wasn't going to automatically send him to the friend zone.

Well, that would have to wait until after he finished. He grabbed the mower and started pushing it across his verdant lawn.

Then he turned toward Ms. Miller's house. The picture and the story from last night made him feel a little dirty when she stepped out and waved at him. She was a sweet old woman, and he probably should get rid of both of image and the story when he got back inside this afternoon.

He should probably uninstall Blume too, now that he thought about it. Who knew what information she was skimming to sell on the dark Web?

Robert finished Ms. Miller's lawn and then turned his attention to her garden. To be honest, it now felt as much like his garden as it did her late husband. He loved those rose bushes, the rhododendron, the lilac, and all the small flowers he had planted this season.

"You do such a good job with that. I'll never understand why you don't go into landscaping," Ms. Miller said from behind him.

He smiled at her. For all of her stories of debauchery, she was a sweet old woman. "You know what they say, 'Never turn your hobby into your job.'"

She tilted her head to the side, "I don't think I've ever heard them say anything like that. I have heard, 'Love what you do, and you'll never work another day in your life.'"

"Oh, I don't know about that. I like mine better."

She laughed. "Well, you should come in and get some water and wash up before heading home."

Why not, he thought. She would probably talk his ear off about her adventures in the Woodstock era. That was a good afternoon. He could go looking for a girlfriend on Monday.

"Sure. That sounds great."

He walked in the door before her and went to the sink. Something about this felt eerily familiar, but he couldn't place it.

The click of the front door rebounded through the house followed by a long low moan. Robert turned around concerned that something had happened. He saw Ms. Miller leaning against the door with her eyes closed.

For a second he thought she was in pain, but he realized it was a mixture of relief and something else -- need.

When she straightened up and looked at him, it looked like 30 years had fallen off of her. Her dark eyes burned with a smoky intensity that Robert hadn't seen on any woman in a long time.

"Thank God, I can stop hiding that," she said as she started pacing toward him. The years were falling off of her face as the other pieces of her grew. Her legs stretched, while muscle layered on top of it. Her shoulders pulled at the edge of her housedress as her breasts filled out the front. By the time she grabbed his face, she was nearing his height and had an impressive set of muscles.

The force and passion she kissed him with made him forget that none of this was possible. He grabbed onto her head, even as it moved above his own. He ran his fingers through her thick hair.

She backed away and now he could see the regal features from the picture Blume had made last night. She could have been anywhere between 20 and 40, tall, elegant and beautiful.

"Good. I'm glad that you catch on fast," she said with half a smile. "Now, let's get out of these old fuddy-duddy clothes."

Her house dress was stretched to the limit across her impressive shoulders and chest. The bottom of it now barely came past her round ass.

She grabbed it from the bottom and brought it up over her head. Underneath she wore a bra that was barely enough to contain her giant breasts and a G-string.

Robert didn't have words. His hands immediately moved to her breasts, which were more than he ever imagined. She let out a small moan. He began kissing her stomach. He grew more and more excited.

"Oh I knew I made a good choice," she purred as he moved between her legs. He pulled down her panties as he kissed her well-muscled legs.

He didn't want to stop. Even as he had so many questions. How was this possible? Why?

And how did Blume's story suddenly turn into reality?

She shifted over to the counter, leaning her ass on top of it as he continued to lap at her pussy. She let out louder and louder moans as he moved over to the counter. Her hands wrapped around the edge.

"Oh. Yes. Yes. Oh, Robert. God, you're so good."

Suddenly she seized up and he could feel her body tremble around him. He still desperately needed her, but he stopped and stood up.

"Ms. Miller. What is going on?"

She looked down at him with a frown. "Two things. First, you don't fuck Ms. Miller. Ms Miller is the nice little old lady that tells you stories about the good old days when her pussy still worked. You fuck Roxanne. As long and as hard as I want you to. Do you understand?"

Robert gulped. Even if he wanted to, he didn't think he could disagree with her. "Yes, Roxanne."

She leered at him, "Good. And second, do you give a shit what is going on, or do you want to fuck Roxanne?"

She didn't wait for him to answer. Instead, she balled up his shirt in her fists and pushed him into the bedroom. There she picked him up off the floor and started kissing him. He pulled and yanked to get his clothes off.

He did it just in time for Roxanne to throw him down onto the bed. He marveled at how gorgeous she was.

"Now how about we get to planting a different kind of seed," she slid a sopping pussy over his cock. And he marveled at how tight she felt.

"Oh God. Robert. I knew you were this big, we would have done this every weekend."

All he could do was match her rhythm as she started riding him. Her body knew exactly what it wanted, and she had the strength and stamina to overly match him. In all of his sexual experiences, he had never been with this kind of woman.

In fact, he was pretty sure this kind of woman didn't exist outside of fantasies.

Soon she was having her second set of orgasms, and he still wanted more. She leaned down over him, still panting and shaking. "God. You're still not done. Mmm. You're going to be a fun date."

"Roxanne you're so beautiful," he said as he panted.

She grinned, "You're damn right I am. And this beautiful woman needs some more of your cock."

They kept going for another two hours as he explored every spot he could. He came. And then she came and then he came again. The feel of her legs pulling him into her was enough to nearly push him over the edge.

He didn't know if he would ever get another chance like this. He didn't know what Blume could or couldn't do, but he was going to take this for as long as he could stand.

But even his seemingly substantial stamina had to run out, and as the skies started to darken Roxanne turned to him and said, "I'll need to go soon. The ladies are expecting me at the book club. God, would they be surprised if I told them about this."

She chuckled a bit before rolling out of bed.

He joined her and put on his clothes. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Can I see you again?"