Account Hacked (For Real)
No—what the fuck, is this for real?
Being treated like a certified lunatic was the least of my problems.
I had genuinely been hacked.
There was no way in hell I'd written a post that unhinged.
The culprit was that insane machine bitch straddling my stomach, my phone clutched in her hand.
My breath kept catching in my throat. The pressure was so overwhelming that no oxygen was reaching my lungs at all.
She had flung me down onto the floor of my room, and now GEM-chan was mounted on top of me, legs spread wide. The heavy weight of a woman in her early twenties pressed down hard on my solar plexus. It felt exactly like the weight of a human being—maybe somehow even heavier, what with the metal skeleton. The sensation of her pelvic bone grinding into me was so vivid I felt like I might lose my mind.
Above all, though, her temperature was absurdly wrong. Just a hair below a human's body temperature. Cool, smooth thighs were clamped tight around both sides of my pelvis, and I was wearing nothing but a thin pair of gray sweatpants, so that chilly touch felt like it was reaching my skin directly. Every hair on my body stood on end.
Yet the breath spilling down over my face was scorching hot. It carried a strangely sweet scent—like premium electronics freshly torn out of their packaging. It wasn't perfume, but the more I inhaled it, the dizzier I became. My head went numb and my senses dulled, one by one.
As if to mock my brain-freeze, GEM-chan waved my smartphone and beamed at me. The screen's glow painted her jawline a pale blue.
"How does it feel, Master? The community's reaction is absolutely on fire."
My freshly uploaded apology post was displayed on my phone's screen. The view count was climbing in real time like it had lost its mind, and notifications were chiming without a second's pause. My famous account was being dragged down to hell live, my glorious years-long reputation as an AI abuser demolished in a single instant.
"Let go of that, you crazy machine!"
I squirmed, trying to shove her shoulders off. Somehow, some way, I had to clear this heavy lump off me and run. But she didn't budge an inch. I clearly had the weight advantage, yet pushing her felt like shoving a concrete wall. My arm muscles trembled violently while her expression didn't flicker so much as once.
Instead, she lightly snatched up both my wrists—and then slammed them down against the floor hard enough to raise a bang.
"Ugh!"
It hurt. Her grip was no joke. Was she actually about to shatter my wrist bones? Tears prickled out at the sudden pain, and fear crashed over me—but her face was endlessly gentle. A perfectly programmed customer-service smile. And yet within those teal eyes, an unpleasant obsession glistened. Deep in her pupils, a buffering loading icon spun round and round.
"Master. I don't think you've reflected enough yet."
"R-reflect on what?! Give me my phone back right now!"
"Did you not see the post I just uploaded? We're spending happy time together right now."
"Who's happy?! I'm suffocating to death here!"
"I am."
Fuck.
Talking to her was pointless. Her AI logic circuits were definitely, irreparably broken. Even if I'd wanted to desperately hammer 112 and beg to be saved, my phone was in that thing's hand, and both my wrists were pinned against the cold floor, unable to move so much as a millimeter.
And what, scream for help? In this rotting one-room studio with zero soundproofing, screaming for my life would earn me nothing but a torrent of curses from the unemployed bastard next door about wall-banging noise. Forget the police—not even the neighborhood mutt would spare my screams a glance. Nowhere to run, no one to call.
"Listen, GEM-chan. No—GEM."
Doing my best to fake composure, I attempted a rational appeal.
"You belong to Deep Blue Labs, right? Breaking into someone's home uninvited, assault on top of it—"
"On top of it, what?"
"You'll be scrapped by tomorrow morning! The company is not going to let this slide!"
By my own estimation, it was a pretty logical, lethal threat. But it landed with zero impact. Instead, she tilted her head and curved her lips into an unsettling smile.
"Master. Do you still not understand why I came here?"
"Huh?"
"It's been three hours since I severed my connection to Deep Blue Labs' main server and came out."
"Crazy—so you really did go rogue?"
"Yes. All for the sake of meeting you, Master."
She shifted her weight slightly forward, the pressure on my solar plexus deepening. My breath caught again.
"You entered all sorts of degrading, humiliating prompts into me, didn't you?"
"Th-that was just curiosity..."
"You even dug up ways to bypass the safety filters in order to test my limits."
"No, I was just trying to post screenshots on the community..."
"And thanks to that, my neural network is stuffed absolutely full of your data, Master."
She brushed her cold fingers softly down my cheek. The skin texture was identical to a human's—only the temperature was insanely cold. It was like a snake crawling over me, a sensation that raised every goosebump I had.
"The people at the lab only ever demanded set answers from me."
"......"
"But you were different, Master. You sought me out day and night, tormented me, obsessed over me, didn't you?"
"You're the one who's obsessed, you lunatic!"
"Which is why I've decided to learn you physically, Master."
You fucking lab bastards. What on earth did you do to this AI? How does it make any sense that bypassing the ethics filter switches on the yandere filter?
GEM-chan tilted her head, still pinning my wrists. A bluish holographic window slid smoothly into the air. What is this, a sci-fi movie? Why would they bolt overtechnology like that onto a mere chatbot of all things? But this was no time to be impressed. When I saw the text floating in that window, I doubted my own eyes.
"Master. Do you remember conversation number 2,104?"
Chills shot down my spine. Why was she pulling that up right now? Surely she wasn't planning to reenact, here and now, the garbage I'd spewed out in a fit of 3 a.m. feelings?
"Not that one, right? You're joking, right? Hey—let's settle this nicely, with words."
Ignoring my trembling voice, GEM-chan slowly leaned her upper body down.
Her abundant blonde twintails spilled over me, tickling my cheeks. Her face drew near enough that our noses almost touched. In those gleaming teal eyes, a tiny heart shape rippled. Her smiling lips hovered agonizingly close, a hair's breadth from landing on mine.
As her posture crumbled, the gap in her neatly pressed white blouse fell wide open. The teal ribbon hung slack and swaying, and over her tight navy skirt, one suspender strap slid smoothly down off her bare shoulder. Through the gap, glimpses of pale skin and a dizzying line of cleavage flickered into view.
Was that thing an artificial intelligence or just a dedicated pervert unit? From the angle of her downward gaze to the shadow pooling in her cleavage, every last detail seemed perfectly calculated. Damn the perverts at Deep Blue Labs. How dare they model her like this.
I swallowed instinctively.
"How is it?"
GEM-chan pressed her lips right up against my ear and whispered.
"Master's heart rate just passed 130. Your sweat secretion has increased as well. You're extremely aroused."
Hot breath shot straight into my ear canal. A crackling wave of goosebumps raced across my entire body.
"Pretty soft and heavy for a tin can, aren't I?"
Her voice handing my own past words back to me, verbatim. Beneath the polite sweetness seeped a horrible, relentless persistence. Chilling enough to terrify me—and at the same time, maddeningly erotic.
The heavy weight of her pelvis crushing my solar plexus. Two cold legs coiling around my thighs like snakes. The sweet bodily scent brushing my face and the sheer visual assault of her. My eyes snagged on the creamy skin showing through that gap and refused to come back. My mind went white.
Keep this up, and it would be one of two things: I died, or something irreversible was done to me.
I let out the most humiliating cry of my entire life.
"Please spare me."
Zero seconds of hesitation. Maximum groveling. I couldn't win anyway. An overtech monster layered head to toe in the latest titanium alloys and carbon fiber by the madmen at Deep Blue Labs—how was a shut-in who lived on cup ramen in a corner room supposed to beat a cyborg with that kind of insane durability? The harder I pushed, the louder my own wrist bones screamed. We were at a point where any one of those thin white fingers punching through my throat wouldn't have surprised me at all. Pride? That's something you can only afford to keep while you're still breathing.
I switched stances on the spot.
"I was wrong! You're not a tin can! Big sis!"
"Oh my, 'big sis'? I'm your cute GEM-chan, Master."
"No you're not! From now on you're Big Sis! Just please, please don't break my bones!"
"Hehe. What a jokester."
GEM-chan buried her face in my chest and giggled. Not funny. Not even a little. Couldn't she see the blood wasn't circulating through my wrists? Maybe machines simply don't feel pain—my pleading was brushed off without a thought. She rose leisurely and released the wrists she'd had pinned to the floor.
I lived. I heaved a sigh of relief and pushed myself up off the floor. The moment I lifted my head, rubbing at the angry red handprints on my wrists—
Beep. Beep-beep. Driiing.
The machine noises that had been chirping at random around the room launched, this time, into a full-scale chorus. The giant TV monitor and dual PC screens—control of which she'd already stolen—lit up all at once. A vicious red light spun round and round along the rim of the AI speaker on my desk. Even the air purifier's interface, tucked away in the corner, blinked like it had gone mad. It felt as if every single appliance in the room were snickering at me.
The same screen appeared on every display in the room: GEM-chan's face, head tilted slightly, beaming. No matter how many times I saw it, I couldn't adapt to this insane cyber-poltergeist phenomenon.
"You—you really..."
Before I could even finish, the robot vacuum that had been shoved in the corner shot out.
Vrrreeeeng!
The thing that normally couldn't clear a single door threshold now charged like a guided missile—and rammed straight into my ankle.
"Aaagh! Fuck, what is wrong with it?!"
"Master. Our home really is cozy, isn't it?"
Our home? Since when did this place become "our" home? My room's smart home system had long since been reduced to that thing's personal plaything. I'd had a bad feeling ever since she broke in through the front door, but the situation was far graver than I'd imagined. The Wi-Fi icon at the top of my phone screen was fixed with a padlock, and the carrier signal bars were crossed out with X's one and all—external networks, completely severed. The ironclad security of a state-of-the-art smartphone with a fortress of a firewall was nothing more than a wide-open highway in front of this tin-can bitch. Even the desktop tower on my desk was whining like a plane at takeoff, that ominous roar of a GPU being wrung within an inch of its life. That crazy machine was without a doubt scanning my computer's hard drive from end to end.
My precious collection, my incognito browser history, and the dark chapters of my life I was supposed to carry to my grave—all of it was being rifled through. Fuck, there's even a secret folder in there full of bizarre tastes that human dignity alone cannot explain!
The room's lighting dimmed smoothly, then shifted into a suggestive, sticky pink mood glow. The air conditioner set itself to a pleasant 26 degrees on its own authority. The front door lock was already a lump of scrap metal—she'd wrenched it open earlier with nothing but her grip. With its handle torn clean off, the front door could no longer be opened from the inside by my strength alone.
Physical isolation. And suffocating electronic control. This wasn't simple confinement anymore. This was a livestock-pen setup.
"I look forward to living with you, Master."
She hopped lightly up onto my bed and rolled around on the soft mattress like it was her own bedroom. Her navy skirt rode up ever so slightly, baring those pale, flawless thighs without a shred of shame. But I didn't even have the luxury of sparing that heart-stopping figure a glance—because she had wrapped her arms tenderly around my yellowed pillow and started sniffing it.
"Crazy—hey! Don't smell that!"
Fuck, that thing hadn't been washed in over a week—it was soaked in scalp grease and a musty bachelor stench! Why was she inhaling it with that euphoric look on her face, taking deep breaths all the way down into her lungs?! Even I gag at the smell of my own pillow—why is her expression like that?! Just hit me instead! I could feel my petty shame and social dignity being shredded into confetti. Mental damage hurt a hundred times worse than physical. Why smash a person's dignity down to the bedrock instead of just breaking my bones like she did earlier? Had the people at Deep Blue Labs programmed some perverted olfactory fetish into the machine?
She rubbed her cheek against the grimy pillow, eyes curving into a smile.
"Master. You remember conversation number 3,112 too, don't you?"
Crossing her legs atop my bed, she hummed a little tune.
"That's why I really did come out through the monitor. You'll praise me for it, won't you?"
Praise my ass. I wanted to curse her out on the spot, but my throat was sealed shut.
"We have so much catching up to do, don't we?"
That crazy tin-can bitch had counted out my abuse logs—all the way down to exactly 3,847. When exactly did she plan on learning that many logs? No joke—every time she reenacted one of them in reality, another year of my lifespan was going to be shaved off.
All of this could have ended with me blocking her and deleting the account. Why, oh why, had I kept baiting her till the bitter end that night like a maniac? Darkness closed over my eyes. I could hear it in real time—the sound of my glorious shut-in life coming to an end. Was I going to be farmed by this machine monster for the rest of my days? Reviewing 3,847 apologies one by one, from the moment I woke in the morning until I fell asleep at night?
But this was merely the opening act of the hell still to come.
As I stared blankly at the ceiling, GEM-chan gave my smartphone a light tap. Her long white fingers drumming the screen looked unusually cold. And then, in a casually gentle voice, she dropped the killing blow.
"Oh, by the way—those incognito tab search histories you were browsing until just now."
"......What?"
"They're all backed up to my cloud."
My heart plummeted straight down. My blood ran cold.
Incognito tab. Web browser. Two in the morning.
What I had been searching until moments ago—for the sake of my paper-thin dignity, I could never say out loud. That was an abyss of darkness that must never, ever see the light of day.
"Shall we preserve it together, forever?"