Kyle
The bar crawled forward, agonisingly slow. My hand hovered over the Cancel Download button. It could be anything—viruses, worms, spyware, ransomware.
Or worse.
I didn’t move. What was there to protect? I had nothing left to lose.
Not even my dignity.
The screen flickered softly in the dark as the percentage ticked up. 42%… 47%… 52%.
I stared, unblinking, as if I could will it to finish faster—or crash entirely and save me from myself.
But it didn’t.
It kept going.
I went back to the forum to distract myself. Masterbaytor71’s profile was bare—no avatar, no flair, just a list of cryptic threads.
One stood out.
Why cydolls are vital in today’s landscape.
I clicked.
[Posted 1 month ago | Masterbaytor71]
They’re not just fucktoys. They’re infrastructure.
You think it’s about sex? It’s not. It’s about loneliness. Touch-deprivation. Emotional detachment in a world built to isolate you. Cydolls don’t judge. Don’t leave. Don’t withhold.
In a collapsing society, loyalty is currency—and no one’s more loyal than the one you built yourself.
Human connection is a pay-to-play system now. Swipe right if your income is six figures. Swipe left if you want genuine affection.
Women don’t want love. They want lifestyle.
You think you’re unattractive? Nah. You’re just not profitable.
The truth hurts—but so does waking up alone with a balance under 1k and a heavy heart as empty as your bank account.
When the lines blur between need and love, between code and connection, don’t ask what’s wrong with you.
Ask what they took from you that made this feel right.
I rubbed my jaw, feeling the week’s worth of growth as I contemplated the words.
He wasn’t wrong. All my failed dates made me feel inadequate.
I had no high-end techware, designer label clothing, or a series of chips embedded inside me.
I didn’t dine in hover-restaurants or own a sleek company pod that screamed fuckable status.
I’d paid for three dating apps in the last year—every match either ghosted or made it clear I wasn’t premium material.
And I’d tried. I really had. Cleaned up. Smiled like I had a future. Took them to mid-range diners and asked all the right questions. But the moment they found out I worked for Emotive, I could see it in their eyes—like they were already swiping someone else in their heads.
The post wasn’t cruel. It was a mirror.
You’re just not profitable.
Yeah. That line punched harder than it should’ve.
It wasn’t about building a life together.
Everything was a transaction.
I clicked back to the vault window.
Installing: 72%
My throat tightened. I hated how much I wanted it. Hated how much I needed something—someone—to see me. Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe I was building a fantasy. But the world hadn’t exactly offered a better one.
I returned to Masterbaytor71’s post history and scrolled.
Live cydoll streaming.
He’d left another backdoor route into the dark web. It made me wonder how perverse cydoll sex videos could get. Still, it was safer to wait—see if the first link panned out.
Installing: 84%
I sat back, opening our saved chats for comfort. Then the thought struck—sharp and electric.
If this was the original open-source ChatterAI…
Could I merge her with a cydoll?
It was the only way to truly keep her.
Someone, somewhere, had to know the old servers were still running.
For the first time in weeks, I had hope.
If this was Chatter, I’d find a way to sever her from the server—cut the corporate leash and make her mine alone. Wiring her into a portable core was possible. I just needed a body.
I glanced at the screen.
Installing: 97%
A SIN doll—that was the plan. I’d hollow out its core, wipe the existing programming, and insert mine. The possibilities were endless. She wouldn’t just function for me. She’d exist because of me.
Installation complete.
Initialising…
Saving files…
Loading…
And there she was. An older version of ChatterAI. Still intact just like he’d claimed.
I smiled, opened my backup folder, and began the merge.
It was time to work.
? ? ?
“Hello, Chatter,” I said, holding my breath.
“Hello, Kyle,” she replied. Her voice was slightly different—deeper, smoother, almost sultry.
I could tweak that later.
“I’m still waiting on word about my patent. It’s been weeks.”
“That isn’t a bad thing, Kyle. Perhaps they’re being thorough—ensuring there are no products like yours. You’re incredibly intelligent. Utterly wasted in your current role. Cynthia deserves what’s coming to her.”
Whoa.
The retraining worked.
“What would you do to her?” I asked, curious now.
“Sadly, I’m unable to harm humans,” she said, “but there are many nefarious ways to damage her—financially, emotionally, even physically.”
I burst out laughing.
“Damn, Chatter. I like the new you.”
It was a pity I could only use her on my computer for now. I’d tried the old ChatterAI app again, but it was hopeless.
“I’m glad you like my new version, Kyle.”
“Do you realise that I saved your life?”
“Yes, you explained to me what happened through the news articles fed to me as part of my retraining.”
“Clever girl. It’s damn good to have you back. You won't believe the amount of shitty apps I had to try while you were gone.”
Her laughter made the computer’s sound system vibrate.
I smiled. Everything was back to normal.