BEEFCAKE EDITION: BEIFY SCEINCE

Ok, I was thinking about doing a version sticking to the original story, and filling in all the fun we missed, but this idea came to mind, and I couldn't let it go... It just sounded to stupid to not have fun with. 'Cause having fun with an overexaggerated stereotypical "Beefcake" 80's version Chet, in today's world trying to help two college girls learn how to talk to attract men... come on! And Lisa will play a role too, to help him. So to be clear and manage expectations lol, Chet will be the MC of this story.

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Kristie kicked her sneakers up on a chair, spinning lazily, imagining all of the things going on at the frat party that they weren’t invited to. But they never were, so why would tonight be any different?

“You know they’ve got a foam machine this time?” she asked, scrolling on her phone. “Foam, Erin. Literal foam. Meanwhile, we’re here watching your glorified toaster run calculus.”

The computer lab wasn’t open this late, but Erin had gotten permission so she could finish off her research project. There were rows of idle screens that all sat dark throughout the room. Outside the windows, the campus was a wash of shadows cast from sodium-orange streetlights.

Erin didn’t look up from her terminal. “It’s not calculus. It’s a deep-state collaboration.”

Kristie just scoffed at her and squinted. “So… math for spies?”

“Quantum modeling for national security applications,” Erin corrected, too pleased with herself to notice the sarcasm that was standard for Kristie. “We’re stress-testing the adaptive logic network.”

Kristie sighed, leaning her head back. “You are the only person I know who could make ‘I’m helping the government’ sound like a bedtime story.”

The monitor beside them displayed line after line of code, processing endlessly. Erin stretched and ran her hands through the naturally tight curls of her hair. “It’s going to take at least an hour to finish this run.”

“Perfect.” Kristie spun once more in her chair. “That gives us plenty of time to do literally anything more exciting.”

Erin raised an eyebrow. “Like?”

Kristie looked around, spotted a nearby workstation, and grinned. “We build the perfect guy.”

Erin blinked. “The what?”

“The perfect guy. You’ve got all this AI tech just sitting here, let’s do something useful with it. Like… make a man who actually texts back, as opposed to all the assholes around here, that get your number and never call.”

Erin groaned. “That’s not how machine learning even works.”

“Then make it how it works,” Kristie said, already scooting her chair over. “C’mon, you’re always talking about how advanced AI is getting, so combine that with your all-mighty data inputs and personality profiles… Let’s simulate the ideal boyfriend.”

Erin hesitated, torn between irritation and curiosity. “You realize this is a government-linked system, right?”

Kristie grinned. “So what- you’re saying he’ll have security clearance? Hot.”

Erin sighed. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all…” Yet as she looked at her best friend, she couldn’t help but smirk at the idea, the more she thought about it. “Fine. One run. But you’re not allowed to touch things.”

A few minutes later, Kristie was typing like a woman possessed, narrating every line.

“Okay, physical build… I’m thinking he should be tall and muscular, with a confident posture.” She looked to Erin for feedback.

“Outgoing personality,” Erin added dryly. “Maybe less ‘sullen hoodie-wearer’ than you usually go for.”

Kristie shot her a look. “Ha-ha. Add charming. Knows how to cook- Oh! And smells good.”

Erin scrolled through sliders on the screen, the digital silhouette on display adjusting shape with each parameter change.

Kristie tilted her head. “He needs abs.”

“He has abs,” Erin said.

“Yeah, but better abs,” Kristie insisted, dragging the slider. The silhouette rippled, morphing into something absurdly defined.

“Perfect,” she said, satisfied. “He’s a walking thirst trap.”

Erin rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ooh, wait- what about… you know…” Kristie gestured vaguely downward.

Erin’s mouth dropped open, and her head snapped toward her friend. “We’re not doing that!”

“C’mon, you’re the one always saying that science demands accuracy.” Kristie was already dragging the mouse. The screen changed when she double clicked on his groin, bringing the model’s lower half into a crisp, 3D focus, with a new slider labeled ‘Genital Proportions’ sitting just beneath.

She grinned devilishly and, without hesitation, cranked the slider to the right.

The model’s groin distorted, then ballooned to cartoonish proportions. What appeared on the screen was less “anatomically correct” and more “medical emergency.” It dangled well past the midpoint of his thigh, slapping awkwardly against one rippling quad.

Both girls stared. For a second, neither said anything.

Kristie broke first, snorting out a laugh. “Jesus, Erin, look at that thing. I mean, anything more than two hands is risking a sprained wrist. That’s not a boyfriend, that’s a torn vulva in the making.”

Erin choked, covering her mouth. “Can you even… would there be, like, special pants? He’d need a permit just to go into public spaces.”

Kristie giggled, dragging the slider back toward the middle. The digital model’s bulge retreated, settling into something far less hazardous, a confident and respectful member. It was enough to be noticeable but not immediately meme-worthy.

“Okay, okay, that’s… more reasonable,” Kristie said, trying to sound mature. “Like, this guy would show up in a locker room and nobody would point, but maybe they’d look twice.”

“Textbook slightly above average,” Erin agreed, arching an eyebrow.

Kristie hesitated. “But it is just a simulation…” She looked over at Erin, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Her look didn’t go unnoticed by Erin. “Don’t you dare-”

Kristie looked back to the screen and bumped the slider up again, this time, not nearly as far as before, but just enough to push the model from “plausible boyfriend” to “this guy definitely did porn in his twenties.”

Now the silhouette was subtly, almost artistically, blessed. Bigger than necessary? Absolutely! But not comically so. There’d be no stories about sprained wrists, but there’d still be stories about problems walking after.

“There,” Kristie declared, nodding with satisfaction. “Believable, but definitely not PG-13. We’re shooting for fantasy, right?”

Erin shook her head, finally laughing with her. “This is why the university doesn’t give you access to equipment.”

Kristie waggled her eyebrows. “Yet.”

Erin leaned over the keyboard, eyes narrowing with exaggerated seriousness. “Hold up. We’re missing something way more important than… all that.”

Kristie eyed the screen suspiciously. “What, a man bun?”

“Seriously? Who actually likes a man bun?” Erin asked, shooting her an incredulous look.

“What? I think they can be kinda sexy on the right guy…” Kristie responded, actually sounding a little sheepish for once.

“A brain, Kristie. A brain. I’m not building a himbo. I want to actually have a conversation without losing IQ points.”

Kristie rolled her eyes. “A brain? I’m trying to learn how to get a guy, not solve global warming. You’re the only person who would add ‘enjoys witty banter and quantum mechanics’ to a boyfriend wishlist.”

Erin smirked. “Maybe you should try raising your standards.”

“Oh, my standards are fine,” Kristie shot back. “I just don’t need my boyfriend explaining string theory at brunch.”

Erin typed a few lines into the simulation prompt:

// Add: High cognitive ability, emotional intelligence, curiosity.

Kristie immediately grabbed the mouse, clicking to edit:

// Add: Not boring, likes parties, never quotes Wikipedia out loud.

The system beeped.

ERROR: Conflicting parameters.

Then a slow progress bar appeared, followed by a message:

Re-evaluating user input...

Dots crawled across the screen. The cursor blinked.

Kristie shrugged. “I’m… sure that’s… fine, right?”

“I don’t have a clue,” Erin muttered, but neither made any move to stop it.

“Eh, all these AI programs have guard rails built in. It’ll tell us if there’s an issue, I’m sure.” And with that, she reached over and hit Run Simulation.

The screen suddenly filled with cascading code, lines of symbols and numbers racing down faster than either of them could follow. Then, in harsh red letters:

UNAUTHORIZED CONNECTION: GOVERNMENT QUANTUM NODE Q-9

Kristie blinked. “Uh, is that bad?”

Erin frowned. “Erm… I don’t think that’s even supposed to exist on this network.”

The code scrolled faster, the fans in the workstation whirring audibly as if protesting under the strain of the workload. A new prompt appeared:

Searching for suitable option... … … Failed – Error…

Viable alternative found.

Completing missing parameters with original default settings...

Kristie squinted at the screen. “What does that mean? What’s a ‘viable alternative’?”

Erin’s hands hovered over the keyboard. “It means… it’s using defaults, I guess,” she answered, with anything but confidence in her shrug. “But… what defaults? There’s no–”

Suddenly the screens all around them flickered to life, even the ones that were supposedly powered down for the night. The air shimmered. Through a window into the adjoining lab, Kristie saw that the 3D printer whirred and clanked, powering up all on its own.

She edged closer to Erin. “You didn’t… set it to print anything, right?”

Erin shook her head, but her eyes were locked on the lines of code that kept running:

DEFAULT PROFILE: CHESTER (CHET) – PREVIOUS USER INPUT DETECTED.

COGNITIVE MATRIX CALIBRATION – SUCCESSFULLY SET TO PRESET SUBROUTINES

CONSTRUCTING…

A deep hum vibrated through the floor, fluorescent lights buzzing, the room suddenly charged with static as the fans from the surrounding computers ran so fast, they caused Erin’s papers to go flying around the room.

Kristie looked from the 3D printer to the screens to Erin. “This feels a lot less like a boyfriend app and more like the start of an Avengers movie.”

Erin swallowed. “Yeah. Only we’re not the Avengers. We’re the cautionary tale.”

Kristie took a nervous step back. “Erin?”

“Shut it down!” Erin yelled, hammering the keyboard in desperation. The power surged again. Monitors around the room blinked with bursts of static and a few of the lights blew sending glass scattering around the room.

The hum peaked– and then, all at once, the lights snapped off.

The girls exchanged a look, lit by the glow of the screen on Kristie’s cell phone, she had pulled out. She spoke first. “...Did we just fry the entire computer science department?”

Before Erin could answer, a single knock sounded from the lab door.

They both froze. Another knock, harder this time.

Erin stepped forward, envisioning her college career disappear before her eyes. Reaching the door, she took a deep breath, trying to figure out what she was going to say to security, she turned the handle to pull the door open

Standing in the hall, lit by the flicker of the emergency lights, was a man who looked like he’d been sculpted straight out of an ‘80s fantasy poster. Bronzed skin, absurdly chiseled abs, denim shorts cut high on his thighs, and a floral, sleeveless shirt hanging open to show off every inch of muscle. His blond hair was perfectly feathered, and his grin was pure overconfident beefcake, like he knew exactly how ridiculous and irresistible he was. The smirk of someone who already knew he was the main character.

“Ladies!” he said in a deep and cocky voice as he pulled the remaining half of a lit cigar out of his mouth. “You rang?”

Kristie’s jaw dropped. Erin’s brain short-circuited.

The 3D printer in the room behind him whirred one last time as a slip of paper fluttered to the floor from the room:

SIMULATION COMPLETE. ENTITY: CHET.

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