Ai That Can Write Erotica Novels & Stories

I right-clicked, opened the file location. “Oh, Daddy!” I moaned in shock, the screen filling with row after row of thumbnails, big enough I could make out the details this time. There were dozens of them! Maybe even hundreds! I scrolled down. They were all me! Every one of them! Different poses, different outfits, different—I swallowed nervously, my eyes feeling like they were about to pop straight out of my head at what I was seeing! Different... activities! Stuff I'd never, ever done in real life. I was a virgin, and Daddy knew that! I'd never even kissed a boy before, for crying out loud! But AI-me... I giggled at my unintentional pun. Not me. Not “Iris”, but “AI-me”, instead. AI—me was

Urgent. With the call still on speaker, I tapped open W******p. The screen lit up— text after text, image after image, flooding in from an unknown number. No name. No context. Just a stream of messages, each one more unsettling than the last. The images were more graphic than ever. Some were real— me in the shower, unaware, water cascading down my back, my silhouette visible through the frosted glass. Others were AI-generated nightmares— me with men I’d never met, women I didn’t know, in poses too vulgar to describe. My body twisted, contorted, displayed like a product.

OG (short for orgasm) and I'm the best erotic romance writer in Imphal, a small town near Montana. And all erotic writers need experience, which I sadly lack since I'm still a virgin, that too at 18 years of age. And yes, you that heard right. And no, not all erotica’s are sluts, we just have a better idea of what maximum of the populace likes to read...under covers. And yes Miss-Goodie-Two-Shoes, that includes you too.

She smiled and ended 'I do sound it don't I? Julia rarely smiled, at least not at work, but when she did it lit up the entire room. 'A bit,' I conceded, 'seriously though. Have you ever read any erotica?' 'No. I just don't like all that foul language.' 'Eroticism is in the mind,' I argued, 'you don't need bad language to be erotic but equally the language of love, however crude, is nearly always erotic to some. Look I've just finished reading a story that I think you'll like. Why don't you read that and then decide?'

Every time I sent a message, the system helpfully popped up three optimal replies for Noah. He'd tap a finger and choose one of the three. And if he didn't step in within five minutes, the AI took over his messages completely, mimicking his voice and tone, carrying on our seamless little romance for him. This past year he'd switched it to fully automatic, and almost nothing came from the real him anymore. Like an idiot, I'd handed three years of my heart to a program that had refined itself into something nearly perfect. Another chat window lit up. "Hey, Noah, does my new bikini look good? We're doing the alumni thing at the beach next week. Can I pull this off?"

But she just didn’t trust men anymore. She talked a good game, at least to Rhonda, making suggestive remarks, commenting on men; as if she were a tiger on the prowl, and those men were prey. But it was all a front. She was scared to death to think about dating again ... about exposing herself to a man’s control ... and wrath. She had purchased what she called her “perfect man”, a seven inch dildo that only Rhonda knew she owned. She had used it for over five years, but lately, it had lost some of its appeal.

’ Dahlia watched as they kept flooding her best friend’s body and again, without thoughts, she moved her cum-smeared hand to her face and licked the delicious fluid. Her eyes widened, it was different from the cum she had tasted before, It had a sweet taste that made her tongue tingle and increased her arousal. Her pussy suddenly flared to life and her body felt an overwhelming urge to be fucked even to the death. When they were done, they discarded Athena’s shuddering body like a rag-doll and signaled Dahlia to move forward. “We’re keeping these ones.” The beast said to the other in their language and the others nodded as they stared at their new human toy.

Cameron moaned, his touch flooding Aislen with the conflicting pain/pleasure, and the heavy, mind melting bliss he experienced in the utter surrender and trust of his body into Talen’s skilled hands. Aislen looked up at Rhett over her, and Heath, his head thrown back as he ground himself into Rhett. She had to draw this, she thought. Was there a point, however, when art crossed into pornography? And did that matter at all when she knew for sure that her regular readers would be drooling on their tablet devices. She’d draw her men, she decided, in all their f-kery, and show them after it was done, so they could get off on knowing that their images were getting hundreds of readers off.

The chat went wild, replaying that line: ‘Are you completely insane? Okay, I was out of tricks. I’m just a flimsy, pitiful, helpless erotica heroine. No sudden superhuman survival skills kicking in at the eleventh hour. I threw up my hands. No point fighting it anymore. “You don’t believe me? Fine. Ask him yourself later. Let’s see…” I pretended to think. “Why don’t you start with… ‘Did she kiss you yesterday?’ How about that?” Right then, the system chimed in again.

All she wanted was for that smooth, perfectly timed caressing of her love-bud to continue till she erupted. ‘We all know him, don’t we, girls?’ Celine looked up to say. ‘We do,’ they chorused. Armina was seated on a chair, legs spread wide, running a huge black dildo across her slick-wet avenue, dallying to circle the head of her clit. It was a perfect model of a penis; veins running up its stem, knotted and realistic and a rounded, bulging cock-head. It hummed persistently, and she flicked a switch to make it move faster.