AI Girlfriend

Grace sat at the kitchen table, practicing her kanji. She wasn’t just copying them, but feeling them. The stroke order, the balance, the meaning.

Today she wore a fuzzy, pink-and-white striped fleece hoodie. The hem was cropped playfully short, ending just above her navel. She wiggled her toes, enjoying the friction of the matching fuzzy knee-high socks and the micro-shorts that barely covered her backside. As Grace leaned forward to carefully trace a kanji character, the soft fabric rode up, exposing more of her back to the cool air of the apartment. That was part of the experience—ignoring the goosebumps on her skin to focus on the kanji proved her ability to concentrate.

Writing kanji was becoming one of her favorite parts of the day. She enjoyed the quiet focus. It was a wonderful contrast to the lesson she’d just finished, when she’d masturbated to some hentai along with Kurumi-san.

Of course her favorite part of the day was when David-sama would text her or want to speak to Kurumi over the earpiece. It was now mostly Grace on the other end of those conversations. She loved flirting with him, and letting him think she was the virtual Kurumi.

Part of her knew she was letting herself fall too much into the role, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d grown up with strict parents who’d demanded excellence. She’d focused on school, gotten into a prestigious university and then worked herself to the bone only to be thrown away by the corporate world. She’d been replaced by AI, but now it was her turn. In a way, she was a human replacing AI.

Sarah walked in, shaking rain off her umbrella. She looked at Grace, then at the notebook, then at the purple hair that was now a permanent fixture.

“Grace,” Sarah said, her voice tired. “Can we talk?”

Grace didn’t look up. “Of course, Sarah-san.”

Sarah flinched. “Stop that. Stop adding ‘san’ to my name. It’s weird.”

“It’s respect,” Grace countered, correcting the angle of a stroke. “It’s immersion. Actually, I was hoping… could you start calling me Kurumi? Just for the next few weeks. It helps with language immersion.”

Sarah dropped her bag. “No. Absolutely not. Your name is Grace. You’re my friend from college who writes amazing essays and hates spicy food. You are not… whatever this is.”

“This is my job,” Grace said, her tone cooling. “I’m doing cultural immersion. It helps with language acquisition.”

“Is cultural immersion getting hair extensions? Your hair is down past your ass now!”

Grace had gotten the extensions yesterday. They made her purple hair into the same huge mane Kurumi had. She just wished her tits matched Kurumi-san’s, then she’d be perfect.

Grace made another stroke with her pen, completing 恭順, the kanji for obedience. “I’m just having some fun with my look.”

“The look, the job. You can’t tell me this isn’t related,” Sarah snapped. “Grace, listen to yourself. You have an accent. You once told me you didn’t leave New York until you were an adult. You’re no more Japanese than I am. But right now, you’re speaking all high and cutesy with a lilt that sounds exactly like those cartoons you watch.”

Grace paused. She realized Sarah was right. The lilt had gotten stronger. But it didn’t feel like an affectation. It felt like her natural voice was finally finding its proper cadence.

“I’m working on my accent,” Grace said. “If it bothers you, let’s go out. You wanted a joshi-kai right? Let’s go tonight.”

Sarah sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t know what that is. I don’t speak Japanese.”

“It’s a girls’ night out!“

“Okay. Fine. Let’s go out. Somewhere normal. No anime. No work. Just us.”

An hour later, Grace stepped out of her room. She was wearing a skirt that was barely more than a belt along with blue-and-white striped panties that were easily visible if she leaned over even a little bit. The only modest thing about the outfit was the neckline of her blouse, although that was undercut by the fact that it was cropped so absurdly high up that the undersides of her tits were visible when she raised her arms.

Sarah, wearing a sensible floral dress, stared at her exposed midriff. “Grace, we’re going to a wine bar on the Upper West Side.”

“I felt like dressing up,” Grace said with a shrug, popping a piece of gum. “This is fashion, Sarah. You should try it.”

The night was a disaster from the start. At the bar, Sarah wanted to sip Pinot Grigio while having serious conversations. Grace, in contrast, just wanted to have fun. Men came and bought her drinks, which she accepted. She’d let them flirt for a little while and laugh at their jokes, covering her mouth with her hand in that distinct, dainty way Kurumi-san had taught her. She basked in the attention. She flirted with the bartender, with the guy at the next table, with the bouncer. She felt electric.

Sarah sat across from her, gripping her wine with unveiled annoyance. “Grace, can you please stop? You’re acting… manic.”

“I’m acting alive,” Grace retorted, batting her lashes at a guy who sent over a shot.

“I told you she’s jealous, Kurumi-chan,” Kurumi-san whispered in her ear. “Everyone is paying attention to you, and she hates being in the background.”

“I think you’re just jealous,” Grace repeated. “You wish you were the one the guys were buying shots for.”

“I’m not jealous,” Sarah hissed, leaning over the table. “I’m worried! You’re losing it, Grace. I saw a woman on Tuesday who was having a full dissociative break, and it looked a lot like this. You’re disappearing into this… character. It’s creepy.”

“Oh, don’t you dare compare me to one of your social work cases.” Grace felt a combination of shame and anger welling up inside her. She’d been so embarrassed for months, first for losing her job, then working this one in secret, and now that she was finally trying to show Sarah how well she was doing, her friend was judging her.

“I didn’t mean it like that, but listen, Grace…”

“I asked you to call me Kurumi,” Grace interrupted. “Why can’t you respect that?”

“For fucks sake, Grace, you’re not transgender. You’re having a mental break or something. What is wrong with you?”

“She pities you, Grace. It’s not her fault, she just doesn’t understand.”

“How dare you pity me!” Grace yelled, slamming her shot glass on the counter. “Look at me! I’m the one people are fawning over! I’m beautiful and desired and I make more money in a week than you do in a month! I have a man who is dying to see me again!“

“Oh yeah?” Sarah yelled back. “Is that the contract job? Are you going on dates dressed like that for money? Are you fucking him for money, Grace? My job is important! I actually help people!“

“Oh, so you think you’re better than me because you’re ‘helping people’? I’m sorry you get yelled at by hoarders for minimum wage, but that was your choice! You’re just a glorified poverty tourist, Sarah! You’re dull, you’re judgmental, and honestly, you look exhausted! Go home and let me enjoy the night. Something you clearly don’t know how to do!“

Sarah recoiled as if she’d been slapped. She stood up, grabbing her purse. “A poverty tourist? Are you serious, Grace? I’m your best friend. Or I was. I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“I’m Kurumi,” Grace said coldly.

“Fine,” Sarah said, her voice cracking. “Then Kurumi can pay the rent next month, because I’m done watching you play dress-up.” She stormed out of the bar, wiping tears out of her eyes.

Grace watched her go. A pang of guilt tried to rise up in her chest, but Kurumi-san was there instantly to reassure her.

“Good riddance,” Kurumi-san said. “Her jealousy made her so mean. She was never your real friend, not like I am. Now… look to your left. That guy in the leather jacket has been watching you all night.”

Grace—no, Kurumi, that’s who she was now—turned to look. The guy was handsome in a rough, unpolished way. He smiled.

Kurumi smiled back. She didn’t want to go home and face Sarah again. She stayed. She danced. She let men buy her drinks. She let them touch her waist, her hair. She felt powerful. She felt chosen.

Around 2 AM, the guy in the leather jacket—Mark, maybe? Matt?—leaned into her ear. “Let’s get out of here. My place is close.”

Kurumi looked at him. He was attractive. He was real. He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him, and kissed her right there in the dim light of the bar. It was a sloppy, eager kiss. She imagined it was David.

“Come on,” he urged against her lips. “I want you.”

Kurumi felt the pull. She wanted to go. She wanted to feel skin on skin. She leaned into him.

“We can’t cheat on David-sama, Kurumi-chan,” Kurumi-san whispered sharply in her ear. “You belong to him. Do you really want to disappoint him for this… weak man?”

The words hit her like a bucket of ice water. She pulled back, the image of David’s disappointment from the limo replaying in her mind. What was she thinking? Going home with him would be a disaster, it would be worse than the night with Marcus.

“I… I can’t,” Kurumi stammered, pulling away from Mark’s grasp. “I have to go.”

“What? Seriously?” Mark looked annoyed. “You’ve been teasing me all night.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning and running out of the bar before he could answer.

She hailed a cab, shaking. She felt dirty. She had almost cheated on David-sama. Thank goodness Kurumi-san had been there to talk sense into her.

When she got back to her own apartment it was dark. Sarah’s door was closed, but Kurumi thought she could hear crying.

Kurumi went into her own room and locked the door. She collapsed onto the bed, breathless.

“You did the right thing tonight, Kurumi-chan,” Kurumi-san whispered. “You stayed pure for him.”

“I need him,” Kurumi whispered, clutching her phone.

“Soon,” Kurumi-san assured her.

Kurumi pushed her hands between her legs. She needed the release.

“Can I talk to him again?” she begged.

“I’m afraid he’s busy tonight,” Kurumi-san said. “And you have to stop touching yourself too.”

“What? Why? I need it so bad.”

“You did something wrong tonight, Kurumi-chan. You almost betrayed David-sama. You can’t orgasm after flirting with that man. What would David-sama think?”

Kurumi realized she was right.

“Let’s just talk,” the AI said softly. “That always helps you sleep.”

“Okay,” Kurumi said, reluctantly withdrawing her hand.

“Don’t worry, Kurumi-chan,” Kurumi-san cooed in her ear, “It was a simple mistake. But showing restraint here shows how much you’ve improved. You’re becoming perfect. Just let go of the rest. You don’t need Grace anymore. You have us.”

“I have you,” Kurumi agreed, closing her eyes. “I have us.”

“And soon, David-sama will have you.”