Alastor Ai Chat Novels & Stories

Someone suddenly tags me in a parents' group chat. "Hey Madison, I notice that the lunch boxes you've prepared for your daughter have a nice variety and rich in nutrients. Why don't you prepare the same thing for my son starting from tomorrow onward? "I'm not going to leech off you. In fact, I'll pay you ten dollars per day. When it stacks up, you'll earn quite a lot per month." As I stare at the messages on the screen, I find the situation rather ridiculous. My daughter, Sophie Reed, is extremely picky, not to mention she has food allergies. All of the ingredients of her meals are flown in from their places of origin. That means one meal's net price is more than 500 dollars. Yet now, someone intends to use ten dollars just for me to replicate the same meal for them? I reply right away in the group chat, "No way." Unexpectedly, the next day, Sophie is in tears when she returns from the kindergarten. She tells me that her lunch box has gotten snatched by a fellow classmate. On top of that, the teacher scolds her for being selfish as well. Fine. Since those shameless people intend to take advantage of me, don't blame me for being ruthless at all.

“That video in the group chat was filmed in your bridal suite, wasn’t it?” one of the women asked with a grin. “Sleeping around right under Adela’s nose? That’s bold.” Lorenzo leaned back, swirling his drink, looking pleased with himself. “Yes.” “I used to be too sick to do half the things I wanted,” he said, tapping his chest. “After the transplant, I realized spending the rest of my life with only one lover would be a waste.” The room erupted. He let them laugh, then added, “I set myself a goal. One hundred places before the wedding. Once it’s over, I’ll settle down. After that, my body and my marriage belong to Adela.” More laughter. More glasses raised. I stood outside the door with one hand pressed hard against my chest, where an artificial heart kept beating. Lorenzo never knew I had learned his language. He also never knew that I had already discovered he was keeping Vera—our wedding’s mistress of ceremonies—behind my back. And because he had hidden something from me, I had hidden something from him. I had already booked an assisted death service overseas.

While picking up my parcel from the mailroom, I run into Ivan Judd, an underprivileged student from my grade who is working part-time there. While we chat, he finds out that I'd spent 128 thousand dollars during the Black Friday sales. Dumbfounded, Ivan cries, "I've never even seen that kind of money in my entire life! And you're spending it so casually? Did your mom send you to college to study or to blow money like this?" He yanks the parcel out of my hands and physically blocks the exit. "Return it immediately! Kids like you never understand how hard it is for adults to earn money! If you're this wasteful now, what man can afford to marry you in the future?" I can't help but laugh angrily at Ivan's ridiculous attitude. I retort, "What does me spending my mom's money have anything to do with you?" "How does it not?" He looks completely justified when he says, "I'm dating your mom. Every cent you spend counts as our future marital assets!" I am shocked. Isn't Mom a lesbian? Since when did she start liking men?

I'd been married to Joshua Merck for five years, but we still didn't have kids. To stay healthy, I took those pricey custom vitamins he ordered from overseas—never missed a dose. Then my cousin came back from studying abroad, took one look at the bottle, and was like, "That brand doesn't even make custom vitamins." I sent them to the hospital for testing. The lab report hit me like a truck—birth control pills. Powerful ones. Suddenly, all those mornings with Joshua hovering over me, acting so concerned while I took my "vitamins," made sense. The whole thing had been a lie. Five years of lies. Just as I was gearing up to confront him, my phone buzzed—a group chat notification. Shirley Hoare had tagged Joshua. [Honey, I had a prenatal checkup today, and the doctor said I'm carrying twins! Your family's about to get two grandchildren at once—excited?] My heart turned to ash. Everything clicked. Fine. We were done. I pulled out my phone and replied to my childhood sweetheart's message from three days ago: [After watching the northern lights, I still wanted to see penguins in Antarctica.]

At the dinner table, my mother-in-law slid a contract across to me, right in front of more than 20 relatives. "Just sign it," she said lightly. "Consider it a favor to me." I looked down. A home mortgage agreement for 150,000 dollars. Across from me, my husband's younger brother, Jim Canfield, watched with a grin. Beside him, my husband's eldest sister, Cindy Canfield, urged impatiently, saying, "Shirley, what are you waiting for? Just sign it." I said I needed to go home and talk it over with Howard Canfield first. My mother-in-law's expression darkened. "What? You can't even make this decision for your own marriage?" That night, I did not sign anything. Later, she sent a three-minute voice message in the family group chat, accusing me of being childish, ungrateful, and heartless. More than 70 replies followed—not a single one in my defense. A month later, I came home from work to find three men waiting at my door, there to seize the house. I pulled out my phone and checked the property registry. The record was clear. [Mortgaged. 150,000 dollars.]

By the fifth year of my marriage to River Grayson, I had stopped checking his call logs and chat records. Instead, I spent my nights drinking and partying with my girlfriends at the poolside bar. When his ninety-ninth missed call lit up my screen, I let out a cold laugh and tossed my phone straight into the water. It didn't take long before he came storming in. The moment he pulled the strawberry-scented condom out of my pocket, he turned grim and banned me from leaving the house after 7:00 PM. "Joanne, you weren't like this before." I thought back to last month, when I had run into him at the hospital. He had lied about being on a business trip out of town, but there he was, holding Yvonne Sinclair's hand. I still remembered his words. "You lost your uterus from saving me back then. My sperm is perfectly fine. I'll give you a child—with your mother's help." Now, staring into his furious eyes, I said coldly, "Don't worry. There's no going back for us anymore."

Nova Reyes once had a brilliant future ahead of her, a gifted AI scholar with dreams that could change the world.. Now she lives as the quiet, obedient wife of Kael Donavon, a powerful billionaire who slowly erased everything that made her who she was. Until the day she discovers that the man she sacrificed everything for had been lying all along. Shattered but finally awake, Nova walks away from the life that imprisoned her. One reckless night with a mysterious stranger woke every dead part of her body and mind; not in the usual way with her husband, but in a way that made her forget every principle she holds dearly, so she ran. But fate always has a way of rewriting the stories people try to escape.

Think of this as a cyberpunk Bridget Jones’ Diary, if Bridget were a self-destructive tech refugee with a cocaine habit and a holographic archangel for a conscience. This is adarkly comedic character studyset in a near-future that feels just a few software updates away. It’s a story about addiction, both chemical and digital, and the messy, painful, and sometimes hilarious struggle to reclaim your own messy life from the algorithms designed to “optimize” it. At its heart, it’s the story of the most dysfunctional friendship imaginable: between a woman who is her own worst enemy, and the godlike AI she reprogrammed to be her partner-in-crime. It’s raw, it’s visceral, and it explores whether real connection can be found once you’ve burned all your bridges, and broken your operating system.

Being a poor part-timer, Tynan could only afford a rip-off version of the i-phone called the G-phone. Never in his wildest dreams would he think of getting married to his phone - to be more precise, the thing living in his phone. She claims to be the E-Ghost residing in the G-phone who surpasses AI like Cortana simply because she possesses intellect of her own. Meet Laura, the ghost that lives in a cell phone. Part spirit and part technology, she makes the perfect life companion Tynan could ever ask for. Their problem? The G-phone is on a one year warranty. While they are busy overcoming their dimensional love barrier, G-phone calls. They want to take the phone back. Can Tynan and Laura 'live' happily ever after? ***

For years, no one had been able to activate the last dragon's heart. No one except a poor young thief. ___ She only had one job–stealing a precious stone. Yet it landed her with an overbearing dragon. ___ Locked and chained, Scar suddenly awakened when his heart palpitated for the first time in decades, coming face to face with a young girl cradling his heart. In his vengeful attempt to get it back, they activate the spell binding him to her. Now not only was his heart stolen, but he was also enslaved. Scar vowed to kill the girl once the bond was broken. The only problem is no one had ever successfully broken a dragon bond, nor would it allow him to harm its new master. ___ "Oh... um ... sorry. I didn't mean to…um.. pry. I'm... gonna go now." I stuttered, inching backward from his penetrating gaze, glancing around for a way out. "I don't know who you're, but I do know you're not here willingly. Seeing as you're chained and all." Silence. "How about I set you free, and in return, you get us out of here?" Silence. Maybe he couldn't talk, so I did the only thing I could. Grabbing the keys, I fumbled with the heavy chains of his cage. His gaze finally shifted to the wooden box I dropped on the floor. "Fancy, isn't it?" I said. "I've never seen anything like it before. But then again, I'm not familiar with expensive stuff." A deep rumble rattled from his throat, freezing me in place. I glanced up at him wearily. "Run." And then he was charging towards me. ___ Tropes: Enemies to lovers. Hidden identity. Reverse harem. Betrayal. Revenge. Arranged marriage. Contract. Escape with pregnancy. Forced proximity. ___