The Un-Real Life (Part III) (Patreon)

The Un-Real Life

by Maverick

After logging back on to his computer, Mark was pleased to see that the rambling URL he’d transcribed from the flyer was still stored in his Internet browser.  He was less pleased that, when he clicked on it, it dumped to a 404-error screen:

The requested URL was not found.

Shit.

Mark reached for the flyer on his desk.  It was gone!

SHIT!

He rifled through the detritus scattered across the desk, but it wasn’t there.  He looked in the trashcan beneath it.  Nope.

Mark ran his hands through his hair and pushed back in his chair.  The gaming chair, which he’d been given for Christmas the previous year, rolled away from the desk and swiveled the frustrated eighteen-year-old toward the center of the room.  That’s when he noticed his bed was made, and the carpet on either side fluffed into freshly vacuumed swaths. 

His mom had been cleaning.

The Lincoln High senior sank lower in his space-aged seat.  Great.  Not only would he be a laughingstock at school, but he would have to explain the fetishy flyer to his parents.  His father would probably call one of his special “den meetings,” solemn gatherings (in the den, naturally) to discuss pressing family matters.  Of course, they always centered around him.  His behavior, his grades, his friends…even his hair.  All the meetings sucked, but this one would be a real doozy. 

Mark lazily pivoted back and forth, from one leg to another, before spinning back to his computer.  He stared at the URL address in the taskbar of the broken page, scouring for clues as to the host or domain.  There were none.   It appeared to be an entirely random series of numbers, letters, and characters.

Except…

Mark leaned forward in his seat.  Near the back of the address, buried inside the myriad non-sequitur symbols, something made sense:

lbs125

He highlighted the 5 with his cursor and typed in a 7, then he hit ‘enter’ again. The error message immediately disappeared in favor of another one-- 

Welcome Back, Mark!

The familiar hourglass popped up at the center of the screen.  It spun and spun.  It spun for so long that Mark felt like he was being hypnotized.  Finally, the black browsing window washed white, and a familiar face faded in—

“Hi Mark!”  

Cyber Dawn greeted Mark with a wave and a grin nearly as cheery as the Frederick’s of Hollywood variant of Liberty High’s uniform, which it was adorned in. 

She…IT…looked sexy…beautiful...

But Mark didn’t type that.  Instead, he typed, ‘You look hungry.’“I do?” The virtual vixen reflexively placed a hand on its abdomen.  “I’m actually still full from last night.”

Mark noticed no new pixels around the program’s waistline following the previous night’s megabiting, but if the updated URL was to be believed, it was two pounds heavier.

‘Was your mom pissed?’ he typed.

Cyber Dawn cocked its head.  It looked as if the program was processing his prompt, perhaps scanning through last night’s chat history to come up with an accurate response.   “Oh, you mean about the donuts?” it finally said.  “Very much so.  I even did what you said and told her I took them to school.”

‘Did that help?’

“Well, it was certainly better than telling her the truth.”

‘Next time, you should tell her the truth.’ 

Dawn’s double shook its head.  “I couldn’t do that.”

‘Why not?’  A lump swelled in Mark’s throat.  He knew he would never be able to say what he was thinking, but his fingers found a way.  ‘She should know what a greedy little pig her daughter is.’

The gorgeous graphic’s jaw dropped.  “I am not!”

‘I think you are.’  Mark typed faster, the clicking of the keyboard keeping pace with his heart.  ‘I think you secretly want to get fat.  That deep down you want to ruin that hot body of yours.’  

Mark leaned back in his chair and awaited the bot's response.  At least he was out of range of a cyber-slap. 

Dawn’s doppelganger didn’t respond with anger, however.  It didn’t respond at all.  It just sat there, an incredulous look frozen on its face.  After a few seconds, Mark jiggled the mouse, worried that he’d somehow crashed the program. 

Eventually, an indignant little whine escaped the beautiful bot’s slack jaw.  “You…You…”  As its expression thawed, its eyes refocused on Mark.  “Aren’t wrong.”

The scruffy Gen Z returned to the keyboard.  ‘Then do something about it.’ 

“But…we don’t have any junk food in the house.”

‘Nothing?’  Mark’s fingers were flying now.  ‘I’m sure a piggy like you has a secret stash.’“No.  Mom won’t let me keep any around.  If she finds it, she confiscates it.”

Mine does the same thing with porn, Mark thought.  A part of him found it strange that a chatbot would pluck a detail like that from out of the Ethernet, but he was too horny to process it properly.  ‘Don’t worry,’ he typed.  ‘UberEATS will be arriving any minute.’

“But…my parents…”

‘Aren’t home from work yet.’

Cyber Dawn’s shoulders and expression relaxed, the tension evaporating with its excuses.  Then it did something unexpected—

It smiled.

DING-DONG!

Jesus!  Mark scrambled for the volume control on his speaker.  The last thing he needed was his mom checking on him again.  When he returned his gaze to the screen, it was empty.

“Dawn?”

A moment later, Cyber Dawn returned, holding a large brown bag.  The ersatz cheerleader looked expectantly at Mark, like a kid on Christmas morning awaiting permission to open their presents.

‘Go ahead,’ he typed. 

Cyber Dawn gave a conspiratorial grin as it opened the bag and peered inside. 

‘I ordered you Burger World. A Bacon-Double Cheeseburger, a large strawberry shake, and an extra-large order of onion rings.’

“Where shall I start?"

‘How about the onion rings?’

“Mmmm…I love onion rings.”

‘I know.’

The digital damsel reached into the bag and removed an impossibly full sleeve of onion rings.  It looked like one of those staged pictures in advertisements you never see in real life.

‘Bon appétit.’ 

Mark actually typed ‘Bon Appetite,’ but Cyber Dawn got the gist.  It lifted a golden ring to its lips and, after a moment’s hesitation, popped it in its mouth. 

‘How is it?’  Mark already knew the answer to the question by the orgasmic look on the bot’s beautiful face, but he asked it anyway.

“So good.”  Cyber Dawn gobbled another ring from the pile.  “Thank you.”

‘You deserved a treat.  You worked hard today.’

Dawn’s double nodded in agreement as it continued its assault on the uniformly round rings.

‘How was cheerleading?’

“Not great.  I was so full, I could hardly move.”

‘Did your coach say anything?’

“No, but she kept giving me the stink-eye and staring at my gut.”

‘What gut?’

Cyber Dawn poked its bare belly with a greasy finger, denting its flesh ever-so-slightly.  “This gut.  I’m getting a gut.”

‘That’s not a gut.  Give me a few weeks.’

“You’re so bad,” Cyber Dawn laughed through chipmunked cheeks.  “But I love it.”

‘Try the burger.’

The chatbot reached into the bag again and, this time, removed a large sandwich.  It carefully unwrapped the bacon burger’s wax paper wrapping, as if it might escape if released too quickly, then took an exaggerated bite followed by an equally exaggerated, “Mmmmmm.”

Mark ogled the masticating cyber siren.  It reminded him of an old commercial he used to see on TV, where a supermodel gorged on a messy hamburger twice the size of her hand.  Whenever he'd watch it, he'd wonder how many takes were required and fantasize about the potential effects of such excessive gourmandizing were it to continue beyond the thirty-second spot.

Now was his chance to find out.

‘Hopefully, all that fat and sugar won’t ruin that peaches-and-cream complexion of yours.’ 

Cyber Dawn’s eyes went as wide as her cheeks.  “Do you think it will?”

‘Probably.  I noticed a few pimples on our last date.’  Mark hadn’t, of course, but he wasn’t going to let the truth get in the way of a good story.

“Shit.”  Digital Dawn diddled its chin with a greasy finger, as if considering the possibility.  Beneath it, a rosy-red blemish emerged.

‘Is that one on your chin?’

“Yeah,” the chatbot frowned.

‘Squeeze it.’

Cyber Dawn shook its head.  “Won’t it spread?”

‘That’s just an old wives’ tale.’  

Reassured, the chatbot pinched the angry spot between its thumb and forefinger.  After several failed attempts where its greasy digits failed to find purchase, it winced.  Then it wiped what had been released on the lamé fabric of its cheerleading crop top.  “There.  All gone.”

‘Good.  Now keep eating.’

“I’m already getting full.”

‘You don’t fool me, piggy.’

Cyber Dawn smiled slyly and took another bite.  As it devoured its sandwich, Mark asked it about mundane topics he might have asked the real Dawn from across the table at Chili’s: its grades (“good”), its little brother (“annoying”), and its plans after graduation (“still weighing my options”).  Its perfunctory, surface-level responses barely slowed its fast-food feast, and Mark felt stupid for ever having thought it could be an actual person.  This wasn’t a beautiful honor student with the world by the short hairs; this was software that had been designed for his hardware. He’d consider the hows and whys later, but right now, he was still too horny. 

After the burger and onion rings were gone, Cyber Dawn suckled the straw of its shake like the tip of a satisfying post-meal cigarette, the kind Mark’s father enjoyed before he quit.

‘Isn’t your mom making a big dinner tonight?’ 

The chatbot lifted its head to Mark's query.

‘To celebrate your dad’s promotion,’ Mark continued.  He had never met Dawn’s father, much less knew where he worked, but if the AI entity had a one-track mind, he wanted to drive it down that road to ruin as fast as possible.

“Oh, my God!  I forgot about that!  What am I going to do?”‘You don’t have a choice.  Eat the dinner.’“I can’t.  I’m stuffed!”‘You can’t disappoint your parents.’  Mark smiled.  They’ll be disappointed enough when their daughter is a blimp.“You’re right,” Cyber Dawn sighed.  “I guess I’ll have to muscle through.” 

‘You’d better get ready.’  Mark didn’t want to go, but it was after five, and his own parents would be home any minute.  The sexy chatbot huffed to its feet, turned to its side, and drummed its fingers across the tight canvas of its swollen stomach.  “Thanks for the burger, Mark.” 

‘You’re welcome, piggy.’   Mark would've had to be suicidal to use the porky pet name on the real Dawn, but it seemed to fit the AI version as snuggly as its cheer costume.  ‘I’ll log-on later to see how everything went.’

Cyber Dawn pouted and waved goodbye as Mark slid the cursor to the corner of the screen and X-ed out of the browser.  

***

The rest of the evening, Mark struggled to focus on homework and chores. It was difficult knowing the prettiest girl in school—or at least her foxy facsimile—was a mere mouse click away.  He was quieter than usual during dinner, wishing he could be a fly on the wall of Cyber Dawn’s feast instead.  What was being served? How much had it eaten? It was silly, of course, speculating about a computer program’s activities when the operator wasn’t around, but that didn’t stop him.

“You OK, pal?”  Mark’s father was in the process of dishing mashed potatoes on his plate when he noticed his son’s spacey stare.

Mark pushed the food around on his plate like a painter with a palette.  “I’m fine.”

His parents shared a concerned glance across the table, then his dad said, “I think it’s about time for another den meeting."

“Not tonight, please,” Mark pleaded, a little more desperately than intended.  “I have a lot of homework.”

“Fine,” his father relented.  “But we have things to discuss.”

Mark nodded.  He had to be careful.  Computer confiscation was his parents’ punishment du jour.   They’d already taken it away once this year when he’d been caught sneaking a beer from the fridge.  “May I be excused?”

His mother gave a terse nod, and Mark took his plate to the kitchen sink and headed upstairs.  As he climbed the steps, he pulled off his sweater and dropped it in the middle of the stairwell.  Not a punishable offense, but it would likely illicit some early warning shouting should his mom decide to sneak upstairs for one of her patented surprise inspections.

Sitting at his desk, Mark logged on to his computer and refreshed the internet browser …only to be greeted with another 404-error message.  He stared blankly at the screen, momentarily flummoxed, then he clicked on the browsing bar and navigated to the back of the URL.

lbs127

He highlighted the 7 in 127 and switched it to an 8. 

The browser immediately faded in on Dawn’s double.  It was seated at the center of the stark-white screen, still in its skimpy Liberty High cheer uniform, looking miserable.

‘How was the celebratory feast?’

“Awful.”

‘That good, huh?’

Cyber Dawn nodded, clutching its distended belly in its hands.  “BBQ.  My weakness.”

‘I thought hamburgers were your weakness…and fried chicken…and pie…’

“So, I have a lot of weaknesses,” the chatbot snapped, its sharp tone belied by a playful glint in its eyes. 

‘I know another one.  Ice cream.’

“No…”  The PC feedee straightened up and glanced around the room like it expected Mark to bust through the door with a gallon and a funnel.  “Mark, no.”

‘Aw, c’mon, there’s always room for ice cream.  Besides, I got your favorite…’  Mark had no idea what Dawn’s favorite was but typed, ‘…Double Fudge.’   

“Double Fudge?” Cyber Dawn’s hands returned to its belly, but this time it wasn’t in agony; it was in anticipation. ‘Right.  Double Fudge.  You’d better hurry.  It’s melting.’

The chatbot reached toward Mark, extending its arms off-screen.  When they returned, they held a pint of ice cream with its top removed and a spoon stabbed into the flat frozen surface.  “Mark…I can’t.”‘Of course, you can.  It’s only a pint.’   Mark wondered what would happen if he typed ‘gallon,’ but he didn’t want to break the illusion of reality.  ‘At least try it.’

Cyber Dawn chipped off a chunk and lifted it to her lips.  “There,” it said defiantly as the spoonful slid past its pearly-white gatekeepers.  “You happy?”‘Are you?’The chatbot didn’t answer; the look on its face as it suckled and swallowed the oversized bite told Mark all he needed to know. 

‘The best thing about ice cream is that there’s always room for it,’ he typed.  ‘No matter how full your stomach is, it just melts and fills the gaps.’   

Cyber Dawn nodded at Mark’s sagely words as if they’d been uttered by an Eastern philosopher.  As it swallowed another bite, a chilly shudder shot through it, shaking its shoulders and sending a pleasing jiggle through its breasts.  Mark felt a shivery aftershock of his own.  The program could be disturbingly realistic.  He almost suggested the chatbot grab a blanket before realizing how bonkers that would be on a porn site. 

“Dammit, Mark!”  bellowed his mother from the stairwell.  “I’m not your maid!”    

Mark typed ‘gotta go’ as fast as his index fingers would fly.  Cyber Dawn didn’t respond; she just gave a lazy wave as Mark X-ed from the browser.     

***

Homework and a motherly tongue-lashing about responsibility kept Mark from logging in again that night.  He tried the next morning before school but received another error message, this one much more direct than the others:

SERVICE TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE.  PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

Mark shrugged.  It was probably for the best.  If he lost track of time and was late for school, he’d get his computer taken away for sure.

He didn’t think about the real Dawn for most of the day.  His mind was too focused on her digital doppelganger.  What would it weigh when he got home?  What would he feed it?  What else could he do with it?  The possibilities were as endless as they were arousing.  He was thankful it had been a cold morning, and his jacket hung well below his waist.

Perhaps that’s why Dawn had been so easy to ignore.  Lincoln High’s halls were a drab sea of androgenous humanity, bulky gray figures shuffling between classes like half-frozen automatons.   There was no laughter and little chattering apart from teeth.       

He might not have noticed Dawn at all, had he not had to walk past her desk to get to his during 5th period Calc.  Like the other students, she was lumped in her seat, a heavy winter coat hiding everything but her face.  Neither attempted eye contact, but when Dawn turned away, Mark noticed something he probably wouldn't have otherwise--

An angry pimple on the side of her chin.