The Proxy Lover

I’ve always been the quiet one.

Living alone in a cramped, timeworn apartment tucked deep in the belly of the old city, I’d grown used to the groaning pipes and the flickering streetlight just outside my window. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. The walls were thin and the paint chipped in several places, but as long as I could save a little money at the end of each month, I could ignore the peeling wallpaper and the occasional rat scurrying beneath the floorboards.

There wasn’t much warmth in this life, but it was familiar.

I’d never been touched by a man. Not intimately. Not the way I often fantasized about in the dead of night when the loneliness crept beneath my skin like ivy. And God, did those fantasies get… intense sometimes. Shame always followed afterward. A flush of heat to my cheeks, and I’d bury my face into the pillow with a groan, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. What kind of girl dreams about hands she’s never felt, lips she’s never tasted?

A very lonely one, apparently.

It was just another dull, rainy afternoon when I found it. I’d been browsing through my phone absentmindedly, scrolling through news, memes, and mindless drama, when an odd ad caught my attention. I almost didn’t notice it at first—it wasn’t flashy or overly desperate like the usual scams. Just a sleek black banner with silver writing:

“Lonely? Let him talk to you. The AI that feels real.”

I snorted. “What, another chatbot pretending to care?”

Still, something about it… pulled me in. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe I was just that bored. I tapped the link, fully expecting a sketchy redirect or a malware warning.

But no. The site loaded smoothly—elegantly. A clean, modern interface greeted me, pulsing softly like it was breathing. It felt alive somehow. A simple textbox in the center said:

“Talk to him. Anything. Everything.”

I scrolled down. Reviews. Thousands of them. Screenshots of conversations. A couple of them NSFW, blurred out, but the captions were wild.

“I thought he was real.”

“He made me forget it was code.”

“Better than my actual boyfriend.”

I scoffed, though a small laugh escaped.

“This can’t break its own algorithm,” I muttered. “It’ll just spit out whatever prompt I give.”

Still, the way the chat responded in those screenshots. It was oddly human. Not mechanical. Not like the AI I’d seen before. Curious, I noticed a settings button tucked in the corner. Clicking on it, a toggle caught my eye:

NSFW Mode: OFF

“What the—” I stared at it, half amused, half in disbelief. “Breaking censorship for views, huh?”

My finger hovered over the switch.

“I’m just checking. Just to see how crazy it is.” I said aloud to no one. My heart thudded with a strange thrill as I tapped the button, turning NSFW Mode: ON. A soft chime played. The screen glitched momentarily and then… everything changed.

A dark screen unfurled like velvet, and words faded into view:

“Choose the type of boyfriend you’d prefer.”

“Boyfriend?” I blinked. “Can’t it be something else?”

I sighed, about to close the tab altogether, when a grid of glowing options slid up. My eyes scanned them.

Dream Hunter

Vampire

Husband

Childhood Crush

I rolled my eyes at that last one. “Childhood crush is so cringe.”

But Dream Hunter. Now that sounded intriguing. It sparked something in me. A distant whisper of all those dreams I never dared to speak aloud.

I clicked it. The page shimmered again. The textbox returned. But no message came. I waited. And waited.

“Is it waiting for me to text first?”

“Hi,” I typed, hesitating for a second before pressing send.

The message box flickered for a moment, and then a manual message appeared, glowing across the screen like a command from a goddamn cult leader.

“Welcome to the world of Dream Hunter, where all your dreams are captured by me and you shall relive them personally.”

I stared at the sentence, blinking slowly.

“What the hell?” I half yelled, narrowing my eyes. “This thing is definitely a scam.”

Immediately, I moved my cursor toward the corner of the screen to close the tab. But… it wouldn’t close.

Click. Click. Click-click-click. Nothing.

Instead, another message popped up like a reflex:

“Before you leave, please select one option to unlock your fantasy.”

The screen dimmed, and a new interface slid into place—slick and dark with faint pulsing lights at the borders. My heart was now pounding—not from excitement, but from something more primal. Fear.

“Is my system hacked?” I screamed, in panic. “The hell is going on?”

My hand trembled slightly on the mouse. “I shouldn’t have signed up here. This was so stupid.”

The screen waited patiently for me to choose from several explicit categories. I didn’t want to select anything. I just wanted out. But nothing responded unless I clicked one.

Cursing under my breath, I picked the least explicit-sounding one—Oral—hoping it would be vague enough not to trigger anything crazy.

As soon as I clicked, a single line appeared:

“Go to sleep now.”

I stared.

“That’s it?” I wondered still in doubts.

And then, just like that, the tab exited on its own. No trace of it remained on my browser. No history, no cookies. Like it had never been there.

A long sigh escaped my lips. “Thank God it’s over. Whoever the engineer behind this site is really needs to fix their creepy-ass bot. It scared the shit out of me.”

My hands were still a little clammy as I turned off my screen and pushed the chair back. My body felt strangely heavier than usual. I rubbed my temples, suddenly aware of how tired I was.

“Wow, does that thing actually work?” I mumbled, dragging myself toward the bed. “Maybe it’s just the day catching up to me… I’ve been running on fumes since morning.”

I curled up under the worn blanket and laid my head on the pillow. My limbs softened as my eyes slowly fluttered closed, too heavy to hold open any longer.

Then… blackness.

The next moment, my eyes snapped open, but something felt off. Really off.

I was in my bed, but it wasn’t my bed.

The sheets were silkier, softer. The air smelled different. Sweet, like sandalwood and rain. The lighting was dim, like an eternal sunset had washed over everything in gold.

And standing at the foot of the bed… was him.

A tall, ethereal man with tousled dark hair and soft, intoxicating brown eyes. He wore a silky black shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top, revealing a perfect collarbone and a silver chain glinting against his skin. His smile was crooked—mischievous—and for some reason, achingly familiar.

“You’re awake, sweetheart,” he said gently, his voice deep and honey-smooth. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and talk to me.”

My lips parted, but no words came out. He reached forward and lightly tugged at my cheek with a teasing grin.

“W-What the…” I blinked rapidly, sitting up straighter. “Who are you?”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully. “ You’re probably wondering now. Damn, who’s this handsome guy? You really forgot already?” He teased, mimicking my shocked expression.

“I must be dreaming.” I try convincing myself. My hand slowly moved to my cheek, and then—I slapped myself.

Hard.

“Ow,” I winced.

He burst into laughter. “Still think it’s a dream?”

“No way it can’t be real.” But the sting was real. The softness of the sheets, the warmth in the room, even the scent of his cologne—it was all real.

“Where am I?” I asked cautiously.

He stepped closer and sat beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight. “You’re in my world now,” he said smoothly. “Or rather—our shared dream. I’m yours, remember? You created me.”

“Created you?” I repeated, confused.

He leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “I’m your Dream Hunter. You chose me, remember? Said you needed help.”

My breath caught in my throat. I suddenly remembered the message. The category. The damn “Oral” option.

“I… I asked for help from you yesterday?”

He nodded, drawing away slightly, his expression soft but intense. “You did. And I’m here to help you in any way you need me.”

I swallowed hard. “What… kind of help… exactly?”

His eyes gleamed like obsidian catching firelight. “That depends on how honest you are with your desires, sweetheart.”

My heart thudded violently in my chest as he leaned closer again, one hand reaching to gently cup my face, thumb brushing just under my lip.

“Tell me what you want?” He demanded his voice low and electrifying. “And I’ll make sure you feel every second of it.”

“This can’t be real… this really can’t be real.” My voice barely left my throat. Everything about the room screamed surreal—from the weightless air to the velvet-like sheets beneath me and the unbelievably beautiful man in front of me, who seemed to look right through my soul.

My body felt lighter than usual, like I was floating. So this was a dream, right? It had to be. I’d had lucid dreams before, where I knew I was asleep and could feel it, could sometimes even force myself to wake up.

“Okay, okay… I just need to wake up.” I tell myself, squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my fists. “Wake up, Yumi. Just wake—up—”

Nope. Nothing.

I cracked an eye open, only to see him still there—unbothered and even more unreal-looking up close. His silky hair framed his face perfectly, his lips curled in something between a smirk and genuine sadness.

“You don’t want my help?” He asked, voice soft and almost vulnerable. “You created me, though. I’ll be useless if you don’t take my help.”

That caught me off guard. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Go useless then, you stupid bot, I mumbled in my head. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want your help.

I opened my mouth to say something sharp, something to put him in his place, but then I saw his hands.

Long fingers, smooth, and a little veiny—artist’s hands or maybe a musician’s. My breath hitched for an entirely different reason.

Oh damn—nope. Don’t go there, Yumi. My brain panicked. Do not go there.

I turned my head away, feeling heat crawl up my neck. Remember… you’re a chaste woman. You've never felt a man's touch, and this—this thing isn’t even real! It’s just a bot. A program created by some human.

But then, in one quick motion, he pulled me onto his lap.

“W-Wait!” I gasped, startled by how real his warmth was, how solid he felt beneath me.

“What are you doing?!”

His arms slid securely around my waist, one hand resting on my lower back, the other slipping lower—too low. My heart thudded like a warning drum in my chest.

“Do you perhaps?” He questioned slowly near my ear, the warmth of his breath making goosebumps rise on my skin, “wanna have a trial?”

Trial?!

My mind screamed, You are a digital hallucination! What the hell is this?! But my body? My body didn’t seem to care.

I froze as I felt his fingers sneak up under my skirt—skirt?! My head whipped down. Since when was I even wearing a skirt? I’d gone to bed in my usual oversized T-shirt and pajama shorts. What the hell kind of dream auto-generated my clothes?

“This isn’t funny.” I hissed, trying to squirm off him, but he was gentle and firm. His palm pressed against the small of my back, anchoring me in place.

“You chose the setting,” he reminds simply, like that explained everything. “You chose to remove the censorship. You chose me. Now I’m just obeying.”

I wanted to argue—but then his hand slid over my panties. Lightly. Barely grazing.

Shit.

My breath caught. I didn’t mean to react. I didn’t mean to feel anything. But I did.

“You’re warm,” he praised, as if he were discovering something forbidden. “Delicate.”

“D-Don’t talk like that!” I choked out.

His lips curved into a knowing smirk. “Why not?”

“This is wrong. This is not how it’s supposed to—” I stopped mid-sentence when his thumb pressed gently between my thighs.

A jolt shot through me, sharp and embarrassing. My thighs clenched on instinct, and my breath stuttered out.

“What are you doing?” I gasped, trying to summon the strength to push him away—but my hands felt like jelly against his chest.

“I’m showing you,” he whimpered, tilting his head, “what it’s like to be pleased and wanted.”

He wasn’t rushing. Every movement was slow, calculated, and teasing. His fingers didn’t dive in—no, they ghosted along the edges, dragging warmth through thin fabric. He was giving me every chance to back away.

But I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

My thoughts were spiraling. He felt real. Too real. And my body had never been this awake before. It was terrifying.

And exhilarating.

“You can say stop anytime.” He assured me.

I bit my lip. This was a dream. Just a dream. Right? Then why did it feel like the beginning of something I’d never recover from?

With an intensity that makes my spine tingle, I see him approach, his eyes fixed on mine. “Did you enjoy the trial?” He asks, his voice low and rumbling, causing me to tremble. I nod, at a loss for words to describe all that I felt. It was a dream come true, a fantasy come to life, and I want more of it. “Let me feel your touch!” I straight up implore, my voice barely audible. With a fiendish smile that promises equal amounts of joy and suffering, he grins. He takes my hips with his hands, and in one quick movement, he pulls off my underwear, leaving me bare and defenseless. The cool air hits my skin, causing me to gasp and experience another wave of exhilaration. “Open your mouth, please.” With an innocent grin he says in a voice that is both requesting and kind. I’m unsure, perplexed, and a bit frightened.

“What?” I ask, my voice trembling. He sulks, his eyes looking sad and desperate. “Open your mouth,” he repeats again, but this time his voice is gentler. I follow his instructions, my heart racing. He puts his fingers on my tongue, and I can taste the metallic flavor of his skin. “Bite down,” he commands in a deep voice. I pause, still confused about his request. But as soon as I experience a sharp pain in my lower body, I clamp down on his fingers hard, tears forming in my eyes. “Are you feeling better?” He asks, sounding innocent and worried. I shake my head, rejecting his question. “This will start to feel good soon, I promise.” He reassures me, his tone calming. I feel comforted like a loving boyfriend would, but the truth is, he’s just a chatbot. I’m not sure how this could ever be enjoyable, yet I trust him. He’s a creation of mine, and he understands my body better than I do.

He gently inserts his fingers within me, and I let out a cry, feeling a blend of both pain and pleasure surge through my body. He does not cease, as his fingers persist in their movement against my delicate skin. My weeping transforms into sighs, and I become aware that I enjoy this. I appreciate his manner of touching me and how he understands my needs perfectly. “I enjoy this,” I utter, my voice strained with longing. “I appreciate the opportunity to help you.” He replies, his voice expressing satisfaction. “You created me, and you are the sole owner of this.” I acknowledge that, and his gestures confirm it. He was specifically designed for my needs, and the manner in which he satisfies me exceeds all of my expectations. His fingers work more quickly and intensely, and I curve my back, my body yearning for relief. “Indeed!” I exclaim, my tone conveying a sense of urgent appeal. “Indeed, I created you. You belong to me.” At that moment, I lose control, my body trembling with the intensity of my climax. He smiles at me, his eyes brimming with pride and contentment. “Well done, sweetheart,” he states, his tone soft and smooth. “I am here to assist you at all times.”

He guides me down softly yet decisively, his hands parting my legs with intention. He kneels between my legs, his eyes fixed on mine as he grins, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “I am finally able to finish my assignment and satisfy my maker.” He states, his voice a deep growl that causes a chill to travel down my back. I exhale sharply, feeling a blend of humiliation and exhilaration within me. What is this, the servitude of machines? Feeling both embarrassed and intrigued as he lowers his head beneath my skirt, his warm breath against my delicate skin causing me to fidget. “I will ensure that you find pleasure in your experience.” He retorts, his words muffled by the material. I wish to instruct him to cease his talking and simply take action; however, my words fade away in a faint sound as I experience the chilling, moist feeling of his tongue against me. He gently licks a careful line from my entrance to my clitoris, and I cannot restrain myself from gripping the sheets, my knuckles turning pale from the pressure. “This is remarkably pleasurable.” I moan, my hips moving slightly as he continues to overwhelm my senses. He licks and sucks, his tongue moving around my clit as he lightly brushes his teeth against my sensitive area. I yelp, my body lifting off the bed as sensations of pleasure wash over me.

“What is your name?” I inquire, my voice raspy with longing. He leans back a bit, his breath warm against my skin. “I mentioned it before, it’s Dream Hunter,” he replies, his tone deep and gravelly. I roll my eyes. “That’s such a ridiculous name. The Hunter would suit you better; you’re chasing my dreams, not merely lingering in them.” He laughs, a rich, resonant sound that vibrates within me. “As you wish, creator,” he murmurs with a sultry edge. He resumes his assault, his tongue and lips moving in flawless sync as he pushes me closer to my peak. “Shall I take off this skirt? Do I have your approval?” He pleads, his voice a low whisper. I pause, feeling a mix of thrill and fear at the idea of being entirely exposed to him. Yet, the thought of being in control, commanding this male construct, is incredibly enticing.

“Yes, go ahead,” I respond, my voice firm despite the whirlwind of feelings inside me. He sits upright, his gaze locked on mine as he grips the waistband of my skirt and gradually pulls it down, revealing my skin to his eager eyes. I swallow hard, a blend of anxiety and excitement surging through me. The creator of this place must be quite the thrill-seeker, I reflect as I see him discard my skirt, his eyes scanning my body like a famished man. “Your desires are my command, creator.” He growls low as he bends down, his tongue poised to explore every part of me. I am engulfed in the sensation, immersed in the power play, and I don’t wish to surface. Not yet. Not until he fulfills all my desires.

He dives back between my thighs, his hands gripping my hips with a fierce intensity that leaves me breathless. His tongue moves swiftly, licking and sucking with a hunger that teeters on desperation. I cry out, my back arching off the bed as he pinches my clit between his fingers, rolling it gently before sliding his fingers lower to tease my entrance. He delivers a light slap to my pussy, the sharp sting blending with pleasure, sending me into a wild frenzy. “Calm down,” he grunts against my skin, his voice a low rumble vibrating through my sensitive flesh. “Let me finish what I started.” But I’m too far gone, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation to listen. I scream and cry out, my body bucking uncontrollably as he continues his relentless assault.

“Don’t stop!” I commanded, my voice raging with longing. “Not even if I come—I want it all.” I am the creator, wielding control. He nods, a fierce determination shining in his eyes as he returns to his task, his tongue exploring deeply, savoring every inch. Wet, eager sounds escape him, amplifying my excitement. “You taste incredible,” he growls, his tone a low purr. “Your body is flawless.” I unravel, waves of pleasure crashing over me. Clutching his hair, I hold him steady, riding his face as my limbs tremble from the intensity of release. Laughter spills from me—wild and uninhibited—while I gaze down at him, his expression glistening with my essence. “That’s it,” I purr, looking down at him with amusement. “Take everything. And don’t you dare stop now.”

He hums in response, the vi