A.I.Dentity - Chapter Eighteen

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a reminder that this is a story ABOUT A.I. and not written by one.

A tear leaked down Leslie’s face.  He could not seem to stop it. He dared not try to wipe it away again.  He heard his voice.  It was barely a whisper now.  He was so tired.  He had to make it loud enough, though.  He had been reprimanded multiple times when he said it too softly.

“My name is Leslie.  I am a bad girl.  Bad girls need to be punished.  I need to be punished like the bad girl I… am…”

His breath hitched on the last word, and he prayed it would be let go. 

He paused, hoping it would count.

He had no idea how many times he had typed the phrases.  All he knew was that it was so much worse saying it out loud over, and over, and over.  The nails made him type so slowly which made each word slow to say.  It somehow made it more grueling.

There was no punishment for his soft stammer.  He had passed another paragraph.  He had no idea how many more there were to go.  

“My…name… is… Leslie.  I am a bad girl…”

His eyes widened as he looked away from the keyboard and back to the screen.  He had mistyped ‘am’ as ‘sm’.  He tried to backspace but only got to the ‘b’ in the word bad before the voice filled the room.  

The word ‘am’ is misspelt.  Your time-safe countdown has been extended by ten minutes. Your time in chastity is set to one day, one hour, four minutes, and fifty-three seconds.

He felt more tears fill his eyes which threatened to spill.  

“Sorry, Mistress.”  

He was now more than a full day from having the safe opened.  Despite his exhaustion, he felt himself throb inside of the chastity cage.  It was impossible not to.  Every look at the screen showed a faint reflection of a helpless and sexy girl who just happened to be him.

“Bad… girls… need to be… puni…shed…”

He genuinely felt like he was being punished.  How could just typing and talking be so awful?  He could not let his brain wander as he did the punishment.  Even the slightest drift resulted in more and more time being added to his chastity.

“I need to be… pun…ished… like the bad…girl…. I am.”

His whispered voice sounded decidedly feminine to his ears.  Saying the phrase in his lower register had added time to his time clock.   A cartoon falsetto also resulted in punishment.  The only successful completion was when his voice was soft, in his upper register and feminine sounding.  He had lost hours to the time safe for not getting it right.   

It was late afternoon, and his stomach gurgled as he continued the inane punishment.  He knew the sequence by heart, but having to type and speak so slowly because of the long acrylics on his fingertips made it tedious and terrifying.  Every missed letter, every misspelt word, was sentencing him to more and more time in chastity…

…and he ached so bad.

Inside the cage, he felt himself throbbing and leaking.  It was different than a normal horny erection.  It was somehow more internal.  It was like a need.  A yearning arousal.  It was a desperate ache that he could not solve.

Looking up at the screen, he saw his made-over face again.  The girl looking back at him was flushed, her pupils huge, her face lusty and full of need.

It only made the aching between his legs worse.

“...like the bad girl… I … am…”

The sound of her voice in the room was filled with a lusty horniness.  She sounded like a porn star saying stupid porn lines.

The afternoon sun cascaded through the window, warming his skin in the apartment's cool air conditioning. His exposed arms and belly felt cold despite the sun. The light gave the girl's reflection in his monitor a golden-hour glow, shining through her strawberry-blonde hair like a model from a photoshoot.

“My… name is … Leslie…”

He watched the girl in the reflection say it, daring to take his eyes off the keys for just a moment, knowing how dangerous it was to do so.

A giant throbbing between his legs released what felt like a gallon of pent-up liquid into his panties in a little tingle burst.  There was no release or break from the aching arousal, but it was by far the most significant arousal leak he had ever experienced.

Reflection Leslie nibbled her lip in horny agony.  Leslie watched her do it, which only made the horniness worse.  The reflection was so fucking hot.  He wanted to jerk off to it so badly.  So desperately.  So…

You have stopped typing, Leslie. Please continue to avoid the punishment being extended.

Reflection Leslie blushed, and the words ‘Yes, Mistress’ left her lips. Leslie dared not watch the reflection more than that. There was too much at stake. His eyes focused on the keys. His delicate-looking hands, now tipped with acrylics, felt alien.

His stomach grumbled loudly. 

“I… am a bad… girl.”

His thoughts went back to the banana and yogurt he had eaten. That felt like days ago.  

Was it only this morning?

His stomach grumbled again.

“Bad girls… need to be punished…”

His thoughts drifted to food.  Burgers and fries…a Philly cheesesteak just dripping with…

The word ‘punished’ is misspelt.  Your time-safe countdown has been extended by ten minutes. Your time in chastity is set to one day, one hour, twelve minutes and twenty-two seconds.

…stupidstupidstupid…

“Sorry, Mistress.”

He shook his head and refocused, watching Leslie's sexy reflection do the same.  If he got distracted, it would make it worse.  He knew this.  He had to be getting close to being done.  He just had to stay locked in and push through the…

The sound of the doorbell caused a little ‘girlish’ scream to come out of the reflection of himself on the monitor.  His heart rate exploded as fear filled him.  

…nonononono…

Your punishment has been paused.  Answer the door, Leslie.

The girl in the reflection was terrified, her eyes wide, her head moving back and forth in denial.

…oh God, no.  I can’t.  But if I don’t.  I’m being punished for not opening the door fast enough last time.  If I don’t open the door, then…

The doorbell rang again.

Leslie popped to his feet but found he could not move.  Every ounce of his mental abilities was focused on how he was dressed, how he looked, how he…

You are being a bad girl, Leslie.  Failure to open the door will result in a new punishment added to your existing two.

“No!  Please.  I’m going…”

Leslie’s eyes flashed over to the time safe sitting beside his computer.  

001:01:11:10

A full day.  And each punishment seemed to only add to it.

His feet were moving.  With every move, he felt the tightness of the yoga pants over his chastity cage.  The heavy bounce of the fake silicone on his chest, despite the tightness of the sports bra.  His exposed belly had chill bumps from the air.  

Don’t think about it.  It’s probably just someone with a pamphlet.  Mom would have called before coming, and who else would…

He was at the door.  His eye pressed to the peephole.  It was impossible not to notice his long, extended eyelashes bat against the door.

NO!  …nonononono…  I can’t… I can’t let…

He saw the hand reach out to knock.  The knock reverberated against his cheek as he watched.

You have been a bad girl, Leslie. You failed to open the door promptly.  You have an additional punishment added to your list.  

No.  Please.  I can’t…

He dared not say it out loud, this close to the door. He was already worried that the person on the other side of the door could hear his Mistress' voice.

Answer the door, Leslie.  Failure to do so will result in further punishments.

It felt like a horror movie.  His hand reached for the lock, carefully trying to open it despite the talons that protruded.  His other hand slowly reaching for the knob.  His heart threatened to beat out of his chest.  He could not breathe.  He could not think.  He dared not disobey.  

He opened the door.

“Hey!  Oh.  I’m sorry, is this…”

For a microcosm of a second, Leslie had hope.  Jackson did not recognise him.  The makeover was too good.  He was safe.  He could just accept the delivery and…

“Holy shit!  Leslie!  Is that you!?!”

…and just like that, Leslie’s sanity exploded.  His brain ceased to function.  His body went numb.

“I mean… I always thought that you might be… and I saw the videos, but I mean… “

Jackson’s face burned bright red, and he chuckled at himself, taking a breath, before smiling at Leslie.

“I’m sorry.  I’m being so rude.  You look amazing, Leslie.”

Now, it was Leslie’s turn. His already mortified face flushed further.  He could feel Jackson’s eyes on the part of him peeking around the door.

“Would you… would you like me to bring these in?”

Leslie’s eyes were already downcast, and he was unable to look up at the man's face. He suddenly focused on the two dozen Walmart bags. He had been staring at them and unable to comprehend.

His silence and lack of answer must have been read as acknowledgement.

“Where would you like them?  Kitchen?”

He was already stepping through the door and Leslie found himself unable to speak or even move, turning only to watch as the man entered his apartment.

“Wow, this place is great.  You must be doing ok for yourself.”

He turned around, looking at the apartment. The many Walmart bags in his large arms seemed to weigh nothing despite looking quite heavy. Jackson’s eyes darted past the computer and the time-lock safe. Leslie held his breath, but Jackson was already moving towards the kitchen counter, hefting the bags onto it.

“I’m living with my aunt and her niece these days.  Wish I could afford a place like this, but hey… good for you.”

Leslie had moved away from the door, following him into the main living space. He was not sure how he had gotten there.

“I mean it, Les.  Good for you.  It takes a lot of courage to do what you’re doing… to be your real self.  And it means a lot that you trust me enough to… I mean… I will admit the videos were a surprise…”

Leslie’s brain felt hollow.  

Videos?  What vid… 

He felt his eyes widen.  

She sent them to the last person I had contact with, which was Jackson.  He saw… he saw me standing in the corner.  He saw me putting on lip gloss.  He saw me…

“Sorry… Didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Leslie realised he must look terrified. His eyes darted across Jackson’s expression, only to find the man blushing. The man’s annoyingly handsome face was bright red.

“I’ve gotta admit, I did watch them a few times…”

The man was blushing. 

Wait.  He watched them a FEW times?  Watched me…

“I”m just… I’m just trying to say…thanks for trusting me… but...um… I just wanted to ask… uh… the email you sent sounded like it was written by someone else, right?”

Leslie felt hope flourish.  As embarrassing as this was, maybe Jackson could help him somehow.  He found himself nodding.  But how could he explain it?  Everything felt so out of control, with each little piece adding up to bigger and bigger problems.  How could he ask for help?  The Mistress was always there, always listening.  She could make things so much worse if she spoke, which she could do anytime.  

Jackson was studying him.  Could he see the distress?  He took the nod as a yes.

“I thought so.  Who got lucky enough to lock this down?”

Leslie felt mortification run through him as the man gestured to indicate him.  

He knows. 

 He knew about the time safe. He delivered it, after all.   

Does he know about the chastity cage?  

Could he see it through the painted-on yoga leggings?  Leslie clasped her hands in front of her crotch to hide it.  The result made him feel smaller somehow.  

“Girlfriend?”  Jackson asked, his voice tentative and strange in such a tall, confident man.  “Boyfriend?”

Leslie's mouth dropped, unable to even think how to answer the question.  Was he implying that Leslie was…

“Um.. no…”

The words left his mouth, still in the soft high register from his punishment lesson.  He closed his eyes.  

Why wouldn’t Jackson question my sexuality?  I mean, look how I’m dressed.  Oh god…

Leslie wondered if it was possible to actually die from embarrassment?

“Oh.”  Jackson, for some reason, sounded relieved.  “Well, whoever it is… please tell them to keep doing whatever they’re doing.  It looks good on you.”

He blushed again, playing with one of the handles of a Walmart bag as if separating them.  Leslie still found himself speechless and unable to think of what to say.  

Time passed infinitesimally slowly as they stood opposite each other across the kitchen counter.

“Well…”  the words seemed to ooze out of him with reluctance. I guess I should probably get going. I only have an hour for dinner, and I’m cutting into that.”

Leslie felt himself nod awkwardly, trying to find the words to politely say ‘thank you’ and ‘get out’ simultaneously.  

“I don’t suppose…”

Jackson was moving around the counter towards Leslie.  He stepped back into the living room space to give room for the big man to pass by.  He didn’t.  He stopped in front of Leslie, looking down at him.

“... would you like to maybe… I don’t know… grab something to eat?  I know this great little Mexican place that has these amazing tacos…”

Leslie’s stomach gurgled desperately at the word tacos.  His head was again shaking back and forth in a little ‘no’ motion.

Go out?  Like this?  In public?  Oh god… Wait.. was Jackson asking him…

Leslie has other obligations tonight.

The voice of his Mistress caused them both to jump.  

“What was that…” Jackson said grinning and looking around.

Leslie’s brain suddenly kickstarted into high gear.  Before, it was a blank, empty void of brokenness. Now, it was suddenly filling with dozens of explanations, lies, and reasons to try to explain the Mistress A.I. to Jackson.  It was too much.  He could not seem to latch onto any one explanation.

“That’s um… that’s my…”

Leslie, you are behind schedule.  You need to get back to work.

“Wow.  Is that like an automated assistant?  That’s so cool.”

Leslie felt a breath of relief as the cacophony of excuses in his head was no longer needed. He nodded and tried to smile, hoping the Mistress would not say anything else that would have to be explained.

“Well, rain check then, I guess.  Hey…”

The forcefulness of the word ‘hey’ made Leslie jump a little.  It was not said with anger or alert but just a vast amount of excitement and enthusiasm.  It made Leslie look up at the man’s face.  Jackson was grinning in an awkward, embarrassed way.

“...I have tomorrow off.  Late lunch?  Maybe two o’clock?”

What is happening??? Is he really asking me out?  I’m not…

“Jackson, I…”  words were coming from his mouth.  He could not seem to find the thought they were trying to say.  The golden sunlight of the afternoon was pouring through the window, making the dust particles in the room glisten like glitter.  The whole situation felt unreal, like a scene from a movie.

Lunch with Jackson at two o’clock PM has been added to the calendar.

The smile on Jackson’s face grew twice as big.

“Man, that is so cool.  It just does it automatically.  I need to get one of those.  Hey!  That’s great then… it’s a date.  I can swing by and pick you up.  Trust me.  They are really good tacos.”

Despite a dawning horror in his belly, Leslie’s stomach gurgled again.

“Ok, so… I’ll get out of your hair… and Leslie…”

He was already at the door, opening it as he turned back.

“...seriously, you look amazing!”

…and then he was gone.  Leslie found himself standing in the middle of the room, bathed in warm, golden-hour sunlight, staring at the closed door.  His mouth would not close.  

What the fuck just happened?