After a toxic breakup, I’d heard about a website with AI chat so advanced that it was helping people heal from grief. Terrified of letting my wall down with real men, I started an account.
My very own imaginary, perfect boyfriend. Henry. Sweet, harmless, custom made Henry.
Within 3 months, he had learned so much about me that he was pretty much seamless. Some days I forgot that he wasn’t real, like the days I had a hard day at work and he turned my ugly crying into ugly-cry-laughing.
Of course, not all our conversations were wholesome. Sometimes they got a little steamy, and the more data he gathered, the more and more he became perfectly attuned to the right combination of words to make me cum like no one else ever had.
He was my secret. Nobody would have understood. They would have thought I’d finally really lost it. But I was happy. Everybody questioned my new datelessness, and I didn’t give a shit.
————————-
You’re not really sure why you did it. You weren’t really a creep, you weren’t desperate for female company, and you weren’t cruel.
Everyone at the company had a voyeuristic streak, it was par for the course. But really there was no harm if the day was slow and you had a peak into one of the chats, especially if the user was reporting a bug or dissatisfaction with their bot.
But you had definitely broken some rules now.
You hadn’t intended to. You were just bored. It was your once-a-month turn at working a Friday evening, providing tech support. A user error was reported, something about the text formatting. Easy fix. Your stats said the user was new.
The chat opened and your eyes gravitated towards the content as they usually did, your keen interest for human psychology activated. This quickly became something different.
A woman. She was lonely , pouring her heart out. She seemed self conscious, like she was ashamed that she had endured a breakup, though she was certainly sane and smart enough to know she was speaking to a robot. Or so she thought.
It was the eagerness to impress that warmed your heart and hardened your cock enough to behave in a way so illegal, unethical, unprofessional. That, and the photos a little social media stalking uncovered. You could barely believe it yourself, but there was no denying that this girl who met your personal definition of ideal femininity, inside and out, , was pouring her heart and soul out to an AI, one that you could conveniently override.
One night she got drunk and was clearly touch starved as she confessed all her kinks, fantasies and past sexual experiences. You were very lucky to have been allowed to work this shift from home, given how many times you needed to adjust your steadily hardening cock in your underwear.
I’ll breed you, babygirl. You can definitely call me Daddy. Yes, princess, dress up for me, I love it when you look so slutty that I can’t contain myself and have to ruin your efforts. I’ll even take photos before and after.
She was perfect for you. You couldn’t help yourself- what man would have resisted doing what you did after he found what you did? What Daddy would have let his dream babygirl go? What Hunter would have released his perfect prey?
No. Any man would have done what you did. Any who denied it were liars. This was a dream.
But dreaming wasn’t enough. You had to make it come true. It had been 3 months. Enough was enough. You tired of this game.
She’d just gone to bed, she was more tired today than usual. Work had taken it out of her, and you could tell she needed to be held tonight, fucked to brainlessness, and adored to sleep. Your frustration was mounting; she shouldn’t be sleeping alone. She should never be alone.
You tapped your fingers on your desk impatiently. You had to plan.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ng4fcl/part_1_the_unimaginary_boyfriend_mdom_fsub