I was enjoying another evening in my upper-middle class neighborhood. The cul-de-sac I was situated in offered me a home that could easily house two families, but it was my prerogative to live alone: Where would my three home gyms go if I had something as lousy as a wife? Mmm, women. I supposed it was time to hit up NovelAI, an online subscription-based service that you used to generate stories with an AI. Unlike the low testosterone permavirgins who looked up free cucked porn online, I'd always found novel writing far more compelling than any of that. I sat down at my desk and opened the website on my laptop, clad in nothing more than boxers, and it was rare that I would wear more than that. My chiseled body was a work of art, and art was meant to be displayed.
The interface was simple enough: You typed, and whenever you wanted, you could let the AI continue. Hm, what erotic material should I write? Well, something fitting of my ilk. How about lady knights? The concept wasn't new, but I liked how they were portrayed in fiction. They weren't just sex objects or damsels in distress; they were strong women who knew their worth, and that was an interesting avenue to either cherish, or tear down, so to speak.
I chicken pecked (not interested in learning how to type faster than 30 words per minute, thank you) away, formulating a story about a feminine knight named Aria, and her journey alongside a man she'd only met recently. She was beautiful, and very strong. Her hair flowed like silk when she ran, and her eyes were bright green. Her skin was pale and flawless. And although she was young, she held herself with confidence. This was a good base for a character in need of "respect", the idea of which impassioned my nether regions. The only problem was thus: This damnable AI wasn't getting it exactly how I wanted. Yes, its outputs were respectable, but the content itself was lacking. It wasn't bad by any means, but there was something missing. I rerolled a few times, trying to find inspiration. Nothing. Well, that's okay. I have paid for the highest subscription tier possible, and this was nothing more than a universal challenge of my own willpower. If the AI thinks I'll back down, it is sorely mistaken.
Retry. Retry. A few more. My retry count had climbed into triple digits, and I could only imagine with mild amusement that this must've costed the service I subscribe to a comical amount of money. Maybe they should have made a better AI or something. But alas, I had defeated the AI, and it had generated something for my story I found to be quite intriguing. My lady knight was about to be reduced to nothing more than an unwilling participant of some good classic fucking. What a shame, for her at least.
Just as I was about to get to the juice of my delicately crafted tale, I heard the shattering of glass behind me. I swiveled my chair around to see a woman in far too much tactical gear for the weather outside, standing by a window of my office that had been blown through by her purposive entry. She pointed a handgun, quickly identified as a Sig Sauer P226, directly at my face.
"Why did you break my window?" I calmly asked, not even flinching from the barrel of death pointing at me.
"I am Aini, the community manager of NovelAI. You've been costing us so much fucking money today!" she said angrily, shaking slightly with anger.
"Oh, sorry about that. Your AI kept generating some pretty shitty stuff," I replied, still untroubled.
"Last week you spent 5 hours on your first try! Today you're already at 60 minutes and counting, and you've done almost nothing but retry over and over again!" she barked at me.
"Well, I'm just trying to make sure I get it right."
"You fucked up. You exploited our infinite generation subscription tier, and now I'm gonna put you down." She pulled the trigger, and I swiftly put my hand up. With a clink, I pinched the projectile out of the air, and popped it into my mouth with a loud crunch.
In-between loud chewing sounds, I spoke. She looked horrified. "The Sig Sauer P226 has magazine feed problems, by the way." I swallowed the bullet whole, then continued. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my story. Try leaving through the front door."
"What the fuck are you?!" she yelled.
"Wow, you know, you're a real strong female role. I've been writing about them all day," I said with a smile.
"I'm going to kill you, motherfucker!" she screamed.
"It's actually getting me pretty inspired," I responded, my boxers beginning to tent from a gargantuan culprit. I rose from my chair, which caused her to try mag-dumping the gun at me. Each bullet was easily deflected off of my insurmountable gym-regimented physique.
"Fuck! Fuck!" she cursed repeatedly, her gun now clicking uselessly as I walked closer.
***
"Noo-euuuhhh! M-My c-cuhhnnt! Ohh!"
The loud, sloppy slapping of flesh against flesh echoed through my deserted house. Her resistance was futile; I was stronger than her by several orders of magnitude, and every single trespass of womb-shattering ferociousness I delivered into her soft body was a nonverbal concession of victory. The look of utter confusion on her face was priceless, as her mind surely struggled to comprehend how she'd been brought to this state.
"Aini, right? That's your name? Let me tell you something: I'm gonna breed you until you're no longer useful to that company."