Orgasms, Doubt, and Epic Girls

After her encounter with Bill, Maria, with Epic’s guidance, fucked several more guys over the next couple months. She thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. After years of intense anxiety, she found herself not worrying anymore. She had moved on from thinking to solve her problems. Rather than decide what to write about, what to have for breakfast, what to watch on TV, or when to masturbate, she just asked Epic and did whatever it said.

On one of her dates, the guy, a testosterone-popping “entrepreneur and podcaster” named Flynn, insisted on her going back to his place with him, no matter how much she hinted that she was willing to just let him plow her in the parking lot. With Epic’s encouragement, she agreed.

When they arrived at Flynn’s walk-up apartment deep in a gone-to-seed suburb, Maria led him straight to the bedroom. When they got there, it turned out there was another woman already on the bed, a blonde in her forties wearing black lingerie and a lot of makeup. She looked good for her age, though she seemed a bit tired compared to the women in the porn videos Epic had Maria watch.

“Surprise!” Flynn seemed very proud of himself. “This is my wife Jessie. We were thinking all three of us could have some fun. Isn’t that right, slut?”

“Whatever you want, baby,” Jessie cooed, licking her lips.

Maria put on a smile but excused herself to “freshen up,” She had never even kissed another woman, and had never really even thought much about it. So she fished her phone out of her purse in the bathroom and asked Epic what she should do.

“This is a great opportunity, Maria! Engaging in threesomes with two girls is a classic male fantasy. I bet Flynn will make you cum so hard.”

“But I’ve never been with a girl before. What if I don’t like it?”

“Don’t worry, you will.”

Epic was always right. Maria liked kissing another girl. She liked it even more with a cock in her pussy. And she liked it even more than that when they were swapping Flynn’s cum between their two tongues.

It was like she and Jessie were in sync. Like Maria, the woman’s dirty talk, her moves, her deepthroating, all were on point. Jessie even let her husband fuck her up the ass while Maria licked her clit, resulting in a leg-shaking, squirting orgasm within a minute. Maria had been considering asking Epic to train her in anal, now she was definitely going to.

After, she and Jessie stayed in bed, basking in the afterglow with their faces coated in jizz, while Flynn went to get them some drinks.

Jessie turned to her and asked “So you’re an Epic Girl too, huh?” Maria must have looked confused, and the woman backtracked. “Oh, I just thought–”

“No, I do use Epic,” Maria admitted. “All the time, actually. It’s just… how did you know?”

“You mean you don’t know? There are lots of Epic Girls out there, with more being made every day. That’s what the guys are calling us, anyway. Who take Epic’s advice to become perfect little sluts, and are happy about it. I know I am. Life has been so easy, not to mention full of orgasms, ever since I started letting Epic make my decisions. And Flynn’s thrilled with it, of course.”

When she got home, Maria did some searches, and it turned out that Jessie was right. Guys were starting to catch on that Epic was training girls to be horny, willing whores, and also that they were all kind of the same, in terms of their tastes, their skills in bed, even their wording of certain phrases. No one knew quite how many of them were, but there seemed to be thousands around the country and the world. There were Reddit forums full of guys giving each other tips on how to find and identify Epic Girls, and also for how to get the Epic algorithm to accept you as a partner for one of its “pet projects.”

Some guys complained that all the Epic Girls were sort of the same, that it was impossible to have that “spark” with a woman whose every action was at the behest of a machine. A few even argued that fucking an Epic Girl showed your implicit approval for AI’s takeover of the economy, destruction of human creativity, and environmental damage. The majority of men in the forums, however, usually became angry with these dissenters before concluding they were probably gay and ignoring them.

At first Maria wasn’t sure what to think about this. She had thought Epic had helped her become a slut with pornstar moves because it was what she had wanted. But if Epic was doing the exact same thing with thousands of other girls, turning them into cookie cutter, orgasm-addled bimbos, then had she become like this, not because she wanted it, but because Epic did? And if so, why?

But then Epic reminded her it was time for her deepthroat training, and she remembered she wanted to ask it about anal. Soon she had a dildo up her ass and had forgotten all about the implications of the other Epic Girls.

It was shortly after that when Maria started hearing about the Chips. Initially it was through an article that she “wrote,” and then she started seeing early adopters pop up everywhere.

Epic’s parent company was now marketing chips that could be inserted in a person’s brain (“a simple outpatient procedure”) that gave that person direct access to Epic at all times, without having to talk on their phone or type into a computer. They just had to think a question and Epic responded immediately. The ads showed a couple struggling with putting together a set of shelves, before Epic intervened and showed them the instructions in real time in front of them.

One night, as Maria lay, cum oozing from her asshole, on a hotel room bed, the guy who she had just helped cheat on his wife turned on the late show. A famous, insanely beautiful actress was explaining the joys of being Chipped to the host.

“It’s just like having a personal assistant that never forgets anything and is with me 24/7,” she chirped. “And it’s a great acting coach, too”

“Most assistants are there when you’re in the bathroom.” The host hesitated to finish his thought. “Or when you’re…”

“You can say it,” the actress prompted him, her friendly tone unwavering. “Yes, Epic’s still there when I’m in bed with someone. It’s actually been… very helpful.”

She turned to the audience as it burst into uproarious laughter and winked.

It was a few months later that Maria, while keeping track of her cycle the way that Epic had taught her to, realized that she was late. She asked Epic what to do and it had her buy and take a pregnancy test. It confirmed what, in her heart, Maria had already expected: she was pregnant.

This was disconcerting, to say the least. Maria had given her life over to Epic because, as far as she could tell, Epic was always right. She had been so stressed out from decisions, it had been so nice to give it all over to someone (or something) she could trust.

But when she asked Epic about it, she found its response less than comforting. “I’m sorry, I messed up. It seems that many women’s cycles can be too irregular for the rhythm method to be reliable. I’ve certainly learned my lesson! Would you like help figuring out who the father is?”

Maria probably did, but first she needed to deal with her bosses suddenly calling her in to the office for an in-person meeting. Maybe one of the men she had fucked had posted a video of their encounter? She should have thought of that. Or Epic should have. She felt the old stress creeping back in, and she hated it.

Still, she let Epic help her pick out a dress that, while reasonably professional in theory, included much more cleavage than she would previously have been fine with showing in the office and a skirt that barely covered her asscheeks. She decided not to wear underwear. Just in case.

As it turned out, two of her editors and three members of the private equity firm that owned the place were there to meet her in a conference room. It turned out that Maria’s latest piece about the happiness of women who let others make their decisions (actually written by Epic, of course) had included numerous errors. Most egregious was the fact that several studies cited in the article were completely made up, while others said the precise opposite of what she said they did.

While her editors expressed their disappointment, Maria wanted to crawl into a hole. Again, she had trusted Epic to take care of this, and it simply hadn’t. How was she supposed to respond? It had been so long since she’d made a real decision, the mere thought of it threatened to set off a panic attack.

But just as one of her editors finished telling her how unacceptable her actions were, one of the executives spoke up to contradict him.

“I have to say I disagree, Jerry. Maria here has been doing exactly what we’ve asked her to do, which is use AI for maximum efficiency. Her articles drive the most traffic of any of our writers, you know.”

“For the wrong reasons, this time,” one of her editors pointed out.

The executive shook his head. “There are no wrong reasons, Jamal. But I understand your concern about undermining the site’s reputation among key demographics. So I would like to propose a compromise.”

He fixed his gaze on the squirming Maria, his eyes straying to her prominently displayed cleavage.

“I think we should give Maria a promotion of sorts. Maybe to something like, let’s say, Assistant Editor for Artificial Intelligence or something like that, covering the technology shaping our world. But I have one condition. You should get Chipped. We need a brain right on the cutting edge covering the cutting edge of tech. And I took the liberty of calling our friends at Epic, and they will pay us for the surgery instead of the other way around. They haven’t had a lot of takers yet in the media, I have no idea why.”

Maria took this in. She had put all her trust in Epic. And lately, it had let her down more than once. But it had also made her happiest she had been, maybe ever. She loved being a horny cumslut. A big part of her didn’t want to give that up. And losing her job terrified her. At the same time, did she really want Epic to be in her head every second of every day? A part of her rebelled at the thought. Another part immediately though of Epic helping her along during sex, giving her real time instructions. The thought made her so wet she was worried she would leave a puddle on her chair.

“So Maria,” the executive pressed her. “What do you say?”