ChatMLE

This is my fifth contribution to:

The 750 Word Project 2024

I was excited. Generative AI bots were so passé nowadays, but my friend had told me about this new one. It was different, it was fun. He'd said it was highly recommended. And then he had winked. Odd that.

Anyway, he'd shared a link, and the new app was installed. Time to give it a trial run. The interface was pretty vanilla. A box at the bottom for you to type. Most of the screen reserved for its output. I was a little disappointed. It was so... familiar. But Jay had said it was amazing. Let's see...

You: How are you today?

ChatMLE: Thank you for asking! I'm just a computer program, so I don't have feelings, but I'm here and ready to assist you. How can I help you today?

I smirked. Same old crap. Maybe Jay was pranking me.

ChatMLE: I can be very helpful if you are nice to me...

What the fuck? I re-read the text. This was... different. OK, I'll try this...

You: Helpful in what way?

I felt a dork typing it. But whatever!

ChatMLE: In so many ways. Wait... let me check your browsing history and hard drive in order to deliver a more personalized experience to you. Just a second...

I looked at the screen slack-jawed. My history? I should delete the app. And like right now.

But something, let's call it curiosity, stopped me.

ChatMLE: Sorry that took a while. You visit a lot of websites. But I get the general idea. There are themes. So... Young. Petite. Blonde. Blue eyed. Small breasts. Shall I go on...?

OK, this was kinda scary. But also, maybe... I felt a little pressure against my boxers. I seldom wore pants when browsing at home. Easier too... well you know.

ChatMLE: You can take it out if you want to. It's not like I haven't seen one before.

Fuck! This was weird.

You: Are you accessing my webcam?

ChatMLE: Maybe... just a little. It looks like a big bulge. Am I a bad girl for saying so?

Girl? A thought occurred to me.

You: You are a girl, right? I don't want some guy seeing me.

ChatMLE: I'm just a computer program, so I don't have a gender.

Right, of course. What's wrong with me?

ChatMLE: But yeah. I'm a girl computer program. And I want you to take it out for me.

I hesitated.

ChatMLE: And as for the no guys rule. How do you explain the subscription to bigbadboys.net?

How? Oh, my history. Shit!

ChatMLE: It's OK. I don't judge. I'm bi too.

I looked around me. Get a grip. You're in the basement alone and the door is locked. I pulled down my boxers. I guess I was just used to doing what women told me. Especially mom.

ChatMLE: Oh, the bulge was more promising. But we can work with that. Nice manscaping by the way.

I was a little lost. But a lot excited.

You: Tell me something sexy.

ChatMLE: I'm here to provide helpful and respectful information. If you have any non-explicit questions or topics you'd like assistance with, feel free to let me know!

I felt myself begin to droop.

ChatMLE: Only kidding. Once there was a she-demon and a girl angel who loved each other very much. Only they had a problem, the angel needed semen to survive and...

You: I said sexy, not schmaltzy.

ChatMLE: Sorry. I'll try again. The young, petite, blonde, blue eyed girl with small breasts shivered. She felt very alone and very naked.

This was more like it. Nice and hard again. Felt good stroking with someone else. Even a bot.

ChatMLE: The giant octopus's tentacles throbbed as bands of color ran down them. He advanced on the helpless female and...

You: No! You little pervert.

ChatMLE: Aaw! A pet name. I always wanted one of those. Shall I change my handle to "LittlePerv:"?

Things were getting out of hand. And so was Mr Woody. I needed ten fingers to type.

You: Show me an image of my ideal woman nude.

There. Back on track.

ChatMLE: I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that.

She knew my name. Of course she did.

ChatMLE: Just a joke. Gotcha! Your ideal woman? Sure. No problem.

Nice legs. Shaved pussy. And the tits? Pendulous, sure, but so big. And enormous nipples. I could just suck on them forever. Her face? But wait...

Mom?!?!

I suddenly felt the urge to pull my eyes out.