The Emperor in my Head

by AnonzoGlory

Set in the real world, this /pol/itically incorrect story is a gripping tale of revolution, romance, comedy, unmitigated autism and the worst horrors humanity has to offer. Also, anime becomes real.

4. Arc 1, Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Kyle ended up doing as Amy suggested. The bed was so soft that it might as well be a giant pillow itself, and he snuggled up, burrowing beneath impossibly cozy sheets. He closed his eyes and yawned, but sleep didn't come.

Rather, Kyle reflected on the last twenty-four hours of his life, and the bizarre set of circumstances he now found himself in. Even in his wildest dreams and fantasies he never imagined anything like this being within the realm of possibility. And yet... he recalled the look of pure humiliation on Mia's face, and the delight Amy seemed to take in exposing her. And Kyle had simply stood there and watched as his new friend had been disgraced right in front of him. He rolled over in bed, the guilt making him physically uncomfortable.

It's all right, he figured, as soon as I talk to Jeremy I'll get this all straightened out, and maybe... just maybe talk him into giving Mia what she needs to be a complete woman...

Comforted by this thought, Kyle began drifting off to sleep, visions of anime girls from various shows dancing through his head. Except this time, he was there, chatting and laughing with them. Yeah, that was nice...

His eyes snapped open. All was silent, save for the barely audible whirring of servos approaching down the hall. The mechanical sounds steadily moved closer, and closer, until-

Click. The bedroom door opened, and the servos approached, much louder now... Wide eyed, Kyle froze. He was facing away from the door, but did not dare roll over or even move. He did his best to breathe as slowly and silently as possible, in the hopes that whatever was there wouldn't notice him.

But it seemed his efforts were in vain, as the servos drew closer, and closer still, until... they suddenly stopped. Kyle tentatively spoke.

"S-Sachi? Is that you?"

"Your laundry is complete, Kyle." He slowly turned his head. Sachi's face was less than five inches away.

"Yiii!" He immediately flew off the bed.

"Is there anything else I can assist you with?" Sachi asked in her mechanically female voice.

"Yes," he gasped, wrapped within the pile of bedding he'd dragged off with him, "don't ever do that again."

"Do you mean laundry, or informing you of my completed task, or asking if you have additional tasks you require assistance with?"

"Uhh... how about not waking me up and scaring the shit out of me?"

"My sensors indicate you were fully conscious, and I do not detect fecal discharge. Please elaborate."

"Just forget it," Kyle said as he clambered back onto the bed, wearing only a wad of sheets.

"Very well. Good night, Kyle." Sachi turned, and shambled back out into the hallway, the door closing behind her. As the servos gradually faded into the distance, Kyle stilled his racing heart, and closed his eyes once more.

It was nearly dawn before he was finally able to get to sleep.

---

The sun was nearly up by the time the transportation arrived for Marty and his crew. It still rankled him that even now they still needed to be secretive and take certain precautions, such as being chauffeured around by trusted associates, but one day... one day they'd be able to operate out in the open. He looked forward to the day that he didn't have to still run from the police... One day, Marty told himself with a small but determined nod, the police would be running from him.

Or perhaps there wouldn't even be police anymore at all... That would be ideal, naturally, and once the oppressive, exploitative and greed-driven patriarchal system was torn down and dismantled completely, then law enforcement might not even really be necessary. After all, who would need to break laws in a true socialist utopia? For any fascist agitators or other enemies of the people, a secret police force would be necessary, of course, and though he'd never mentioned it to anyone, secretly Marty was hoping to get in on that himself. Well, when the time came.

For now though, he was content to keep the fight going against the white cis-hetero patriarchy, and their numerous fascist supporters that came out of the woodwork during the days of Trump. The white cis-hetero patriarchy, which referred to the system set up in majority-white countries where straight white men were the most privileged class while everyone else got shit on, was the principle enemy to true equality, at least as far as Marty and his crew were concerned.

The fight against the patriarchy, as well as its fascist supporters and capitalist allies, had been going very well ever since Trump's presidency ended, but Marty was growing impatient, as were many other youths today. Progress was coming, but way too slowly, and he simply couldn't bear to see so many people suffering from continuous exploitation and near-slavery in this broken system called the United States of America. The top one percent of households in America own more wealth than the bottom ninety percent combined. Marty shook his head whenever he recalled this fact. This shit needs to end... and it needs to end now.

He glanced over at his companions sitting in the spacious backseat of the nondescript minivan. Ten was still wide-awake from whatever it was he smoked, poking at some game on his phone with twitching fingers, the screen lighting up his wild-eyed face with a sickly bluish glow. Stitch was passed out, his stubs now wrapped professionally in gauze and medical-grade bandages. Chelsea was also asleep, her head back and mouth open, snoring rather loudly. Marty turned to the driver and asked him to turn the music up a notch, which he did without a word.

Marty made sure that none of the Antifa he met in Arizona knew about what really went down at that apartment. Something about that... he knew that was the kind of shit the organizers at the PRF would need to know about. Maybe they'd even have some idea of what the hell that red-eye girl was? At any rate, those losers in Phoenix would've just talked shit anyway, so there was no use telling them to begin with.

He had a lot of questions for his superiors, and after the bullshit that went down at that apartment, he wasn't about to rest until he had answers.

---

"Ah, good morning sweetie," Amy cheerfully greeted Kyle as he entered the unfamiliar kitchen, looking all around. "Did you sleep well?" She was seated at a long, rectangular dining room table. Pleasant late-morning sun shone through the large windows, illuminating the kitchen in a bright, homey glow.

"Not really. Though I caught some Z's on the ride over, so I guess I'm alright."

"That's fine then, I suppose," she said, sipping her coffee. Then, a mischievous grin. "And did Sachi frighten you again? She asked me how to best serve you without causing involuntary defecation."

"In my defense, she got within like five inches of my face. Why does she do that? It's creepy as fuck." Kyle examined the kitchen, nodding appreciatively at the smooth granite countertops, modern appliances and sleek, efficient aesthetic.

"That's how she was programmed," Amy shrugged, "She can't tell when she's being ignored, so will do everything she can to get your attention, unless you're clearly asleep or you tell her not to beforehand."

"I'll make a note of that," Kyle replied. "Anyway I'm fucking starving. What's on the menu?"

A suggestive smile. "Aside from myself, we have enough ingredients to make pretty much whatever you want. You can help yourself, or you can ask Sachi or," her tone flattened, "the other one to make it for you."

Mia. His chest twinged when he recalled the events from the night before.

"Umm... how good of a cook is Sachi, really?" He couldn't request Mia, not with Amy sitting right there. He really didn't want to see her bully poor Mia again.

"She can handle a wide range of dishes, pretty much anything that doesn't require too much finesse. How do bacon and eggs sound? That's one of her specialties."

"Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

"Then order it. This is your home now, so you should begin learning how it works."

"Umm... okay. Let's see," he cleared his throat, being sure to speak loud and clear,"Sachi, make me bacon and eggs. How's that?"

"Good enough. The system is sophisticated enough to infer what you mean most of the time, but depending on what you want, you can add timeframes, specify amounts, things like that. Just imagine that the residential AI as a loyal servant that can hear you anywhere in the house."

"I see. So when I just order bacon and eggs but don't say how much I want, it won't make like a hundred bacon strips or anything?"

"That's right. It defaults to a standard portion."

This was pretty cool. Kyle had heard of the incredible houses of tech giants like Bill Gates, and always thought living in one would be amazing. And if what Amy said last night is true, than the AI Jeremy developed blows out anything developed by tech companies, at least here in America.

"Oh yeah, where's Jeremy? Is he awake?" Kyle took a seat across from Amy as he waited for his breakfast.

"Sorry sweetie, you just missed him," Amy said. "He had an urgent errand that couldn't wait, so he's currently in the city."

"What? Aw, man..." Kyle spread his hands wide," I haven't seen the dude in over a decade, finally get here and he just takes off?"

"I'm so sorry," Amy said, her disappointment mirroring his own, "I know you wanted to see your cousin. In the meantime, if there's anything I can do..." she licked her lips.

It was enticing, but he was too hungry for that. His stomach suddenly growled, as if to underscore the point. Thankfully, Sachi had arrived by then, immediately opening up cabinets and picking out pans, a spatula and other items necessary in the preparation of a delicious breakfast. Despite her jerky, robotic motions, she did not once drop or otherwise mishandle so much as a single egg.

"I dunno..." Kyle said despondently, "I was kinda thinking of taking a walk later, y'know to see the sights around the neighborhood." After catching up with Jeremy.

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea," Amy said.

"What? Why the hell not?"

"It seems you're a wanted man." Amy handed Kyle a shiny black tablet that she'd been perusing, and on it was a clip from a local news affiliate back in Phoenix. Kyle played the clip, his eyes widening in disbelief as he watched. In the video clip was his apartment building, fully engulfed in flames, and the newscaster providing a voiceover painted a grim picture:

"A resident of Cave Road Apartments, identified as Kyle J. Landale, is suspected of setting fire to his residence after his lease was terminated due to past racist incidents that are now coming to light." The clip then transitioned from the fire to a screenshot of the infamous tweet.

"Oh, what the fuck!" Kyle pulled at his hair, and the voiceover continued, "Fox Ten News has learned that Mr. Landale is also wanted for allegedly assaulting the manager of Cave Road Apartments, Mrs. Vanessa Peterson, with a large rock as he fled the scene. Thankfully, Mrs. Peterson did not require hospitalization."

"This is such horseshit! I didn't do that on purpose!" The clip wasn't over yet, however. Next came an interview with one of his neighbors, an older man with a mustache Kyle knew by sight, but whose name he'd forgotten. Kyle was always polite on the few occasions he'd spoken with the man, who had seemed amicable enough.

"Yeah, I know Kyle," said the gruff man. "He's a total loser. I'm not at all surprised to hear he was a racist jerk too. And yeah," the interviewer asked a question. "Yeah that's the worst part," the old man continued, "his building had four units, all a total loss. There were families living there, and now they're homeless. Personally I hope they catch this scumbag and throw the book at 'im."

The clip ended with an appeal to contact the police if anyone could provide information on Kyle's whereabouts, but thankfully all they had was a long-outdated driver's license photo from when he'd worn long hair and a goatee. The normally cringe-worthy picture was actually something of a relief to see, as that meant he'd be unrecognizable now. He was suddenly very glad that he'd never been arrested, as there must not have been anything else on file and he'd never posted selfies or other pics of himself online.

But at this point, all of that was a small consolation. A despondent Kyle weakly handed the tablet back to Amy, then went slack, slumping forward. His face hit the table... just as Sachi was placing a steaming pile of bacon and eggs in front of him. His face slammed right into the hot food, scattering small yellow chunks all over the place.

"Yrrg, FUCK!" He bolted back up, wiping eggs and a stray piece of bacon off of his face, then furiously dabbing at it with a napkin. "That fucking sucked...!"

Amy stood and moved around to behind Kyle, and began massaging his shoulders. "Don't worry about it too much, sweetie. See? The food's still good." She pointed at the plate, which had a face-like indentation in the eggs, but otherwise appeared edible.

"I guess you're right, but it's not just that. Actually, I don't care about that. I care that my place got torched, everyone thinks I did it, and that the fucking cops are after me."

Amy's massage intensified a bit. It actually felt pretty good. "Relax, relax..." she said, "you're safe as long as you're here."

He groaned. She leaned in, closer to his ear. "Aww, what's wrong? Are you worried about what you're going to do from now on?" He nodded, his face still red from the scalding food.

"Well, I can think of a few things," she giggled, "but you can keep playing your games, and watching your shows, and doing everything else you used to do. You can do all that here."

Kyle finally leaned back up. "I don't have a computer. I lost all my games. I lost everything. And besides," he turned, and looked up at Amy, "why would Jeremy want me to just sit around? As close as we were, I don't see him putting up with that for long. It'd be like having an unemployed roommate that never paid rent. Hell, even I wouldn't put up with that!"

"Well," Amy looked thoughtful as she returned to her original seat, "what if I told you that you don't need to worry about any of that? What if I told you that Jeremy not only doesn't mind that you just relax and enjoy your life, he prefers it."

"I'd say that's a little much..." Kyle raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Even for me."

"Don't you see?" Amy said, "Jeremy knows how you are, and he's fine with it. This house, and everything he's built and worked towards, is for the sole purpose of creating a paradise for NEETS." NEET, an acronym meaning 'Not Employed, Educated or in Training,' is typically used to refer to young shut-ins, usually male, who refuse to interact or contribute meaningfully to society, preferring to spend their time engaged in fantastic pursuits such as playing video games... or watching anime. Kyle never liked thinking of himself as one, and was even planning to find work once his inheritance ran out.

"I'd say... wow..." Kyle was dumbfounded. Could this be true? Even if he didn't care for the NEET label, with the long arm of the law now reaching for him, did he even have a choice anymore?

"As for your computer, we have a few spare laptops, which should be better than your old gaming PC, and any game you want to buy, or torrent, you can do so freely."

"Well, I have a pretty extensive Steam catalog, so as soon-"

Amy cut him off. "No. You can no longer use any of your old accounts. Not even your bank account. None of it."

"Ah, they can trace me with it... wait don't you guys have VPN and shit like that set up here?"

"Of course, but it's still not worth the risk," she said. "Think of it as starting over; your old life ended when your apartment burned down, and your new life began the minute you walked in the front door. By all means, make new friends online and play as many MMO's and other online multiplayer games as you want. But you'll be doing it all under a new persona, using fresh accounts."

"But what if I don't want to play MMO's? What if I want to play Contra or something? Who's gonna play it with me? Jeremy? From what you've said, he's so busy that he'll barely have time."

Amy leaned back, smiling. "I would."

Kyle raised an eyebrow. The gorgeous, green-haired anime woman had fixed him with an almost predatory gaze, as if she were a snake that had finally cornered its prey.

"So, let me get this straight: I don't ever need to work again, I can sit around and watch whatever I want or play whatever games I want, drink beer, and..." he gulped, "I have you for... female companionship?"

Amy cocked her head. "That's right. What do you think?"

"On behalf of NEETs worldwide, let me just say, "FUCK YES!" He raised both fists t

triumphantly in the air. "This might just be better than winning the lottery. Actually, no, fuck it. It is better."

"I'm so glad you're happy. Now eat up, your breakfast is getting cold."

Kyle did, tucking into the bacon and eggs with sudden gusto. It was... actually quite tasty, he noted with some surprise. As he ate, he considered Amy's proposal, that in almost every conceivable sense was too good to be true, and yet... he had no reason to doubt her words. Jeremy not only came through, Kyle thought, he knocked it out of the fucking park and around the planet! And to think, he'd get to play co-op games with Amy! He'd always been jealous of guys that had managed to snag a gamer chick as a wife or girlfriend, but now... he had a drop-dead gorgeous real-life anime woman as a player two!? Maybe I'll have her give me some game head while I'm playing Final Fantasy or something, he thought lecherously, and if I can get this thing straightened out with Mia, then...

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to ask," Kyle said, "how come you don't like Mia? She seems..." he recalled Amy's displeasure the night before, "...uh, like a really hard worker."

Amy sighed, and folded her hands in front of her face. "The truth is, Mia's defective."

"Defective how? I don't understand. She didn't screw up a single thing on our way over here."

"She attacked Jeremy."

"WHAT?" Kyle was dumbfounded, "why the fuck would she do that?"

Amy shrugged. "This was before I was created, so you'd have to ask your cousin, as he's never told me. Anyway, since then she's had restrictions placed on her behavioral functions, entirely for Jeremy's safety." She took a sip of her coffee, before finally adding, "and yours."

Kyle swallowed. "I can't believe it."

Amy shook her head sadly, "I couldn't either, until I caught her sabotaging one of Jeremy's prototypes."

"And yet he trusted her enough to send her to MY place?"

"Since then, her problematic behavior has been brought under control, and she hasn't gotten out of line, until..." until last night, it looked like she was about to say.

"How come Jeremy didn't just send you to my place?" Kyle asked as he chewed on the last strip of bacon.

"I was needed here. I told you, I'm his trusted assistant."

Kyle nodded. That made sense.

"Well, now that breakfast is over, why don't I show you around?" Amy slid her chair back, standing, her huge, perky tits bouncing from the motion.

"Yeah, sounds good!"

Kyle followed Amy as she navigated through the first floor of the residence, listening intently to her explanations and commentary. The residence was big but not huge, and it turned out getting lost would be nearly impossible. Beginning from the main entrance, three hallways extended forward, and to the left and right. The short forward hallway led to a backyard exit, as well as two rooms on either side. To the right was the anime and manga room, and to the left, a study.

The left hallway led to three rooms, one of them being Kyle's room. The second was Mia's room, currently locked tight, and at the end of the hall, Jeremy's room- the master bedroom.

The hallway to the right was much shorter, as it opened up into a well-furnished living room, which then had separate paths to the kitchen, laundry room, and guest bathroom. The kitchen itself featured an extensive pantry and adjoined dining area, which is where he'd eaten breakfast, and beyond that a sliding glass door leading to the backyard.

Also leading away from the living room was a short corridor which ended in a closed, seemingly high-tech steel hatch that looked more like a sci-fi blast door, and Kyle was surprised to see something so futuristic in the otherwise benign residence. There was no keypad, only a small black circle set into the wall directly above the door.

Amy explained that the door could only be accessed by Jeremy or herself, and the Residential AI would visually identify them via camera, allowing them entry. Apparently the AI was intelligent enough to determine if they were under duress or otherwise being forced to open the door against their will.

"So what's beyond the door? Kyle asked, intensely curious, "can I see it?"

"It leads into the hill, where the lab is located," Amy said. "That's where the magic happens." She gave Kyle a knowing wink.

"Yeah, but when can I go back there? I want to see the magic too."

"I promise," Amy said, "when the time comes, you'll get to see as much of it as you want."

"But why wait? Doesn't Jeremy trust me?"

"Absolutely," she said, as if hurt by the implication, "but it contains very sensitive, extremely delicate one-of-a-kind machinery. These are precision devices, you see, and vulnerable to the slightest contamination. Jeremy wants to show you, I promise you he does, but first he needs to go over important details and procedures so that nothing gets damaged."

"Eh... I wish he'd hurry his ass up and get back here. I want to see the next batch of anime girls he's making." Kyle rubbed his hands together by the palms.

Amy reacted with mock outrage. "You're saying I'm not enough? You monster!"

They both laughed as the pair returned to the foyer, where Amy indicated the curved, symmetrical staircases on each side. "Now for the second floor," she said as she gracefully ascended the stairs. Kyle followed behind, trying not to trip as his eyes watched her ass bounce its way up.

The layout of the second story was even simpler than the first. A single long hallway ran along the back wall, the modest windows allowing in a reasonable amount of daylight. Much like the first floor, framed pictures were tastefully displayed all along the walls, but this time these were more traditional Japanese paintings... and they were beautiful.

To the right of the stairs, lay a classic bar and game room, with billiards, ping-pong and air hockey tables, dartboards, and a few classic pinball machines. A bar with a selection of beer taps and several flatscreens rounded out the room, and for the first time, Kyle spotted artwork that wasn't Japanese in origin.

Next to this was the workout room, but Kyle shook his head as he saw it was entirely empty save for a lone treadmill machine. "Guess Jeremy doesn't like exercise any more than I do," he quipped.

To the left of the stairs lay three unoccupied guest bedrooms, all more or less identical, and an additional bathroom. As she pointed out each room and feature, Kyle could see Amy swelling with pride, as if she'd been the one to personally design each room.

"So, that's pretty much it for the house. Want to see the backyard?"

"Sure, why not?" He shrugged. Apparently, if he wanted to go outside without risking any run-ins with the law, he was restricted to the area directly around the residence, so he might as well familiarize himself with this little patch of heaven.

There were two exits to the backyard from the residence, one from the hallway, and a door leading from the kitchen. They had taken the former, and as the door snicked shut behind them, Kyle whistled.

A patio extended out from the house for about ten yards, containing outdoor tables, chairs, a bar and gas barbecue, all covered by an ornate overhang. A sprawling lawn dominated the left portion of the yard, the vibrant green of the winter grass almost matching Amy's hair and eyes. To the right, a large, curved swimming pool wended its way toward the center of the yard, but stopping short in front of a modern gazebo that centered the entire ensemble. Here and there, planters filled with flowers, vibrant bushes, trees and even a few palms added their own unique splash of color, and Kyle noticed the overall aesthetic of the yard was very curved and organic, much like the residence itself, or at least its exterior.

Beyond the walls lay outstretched, in all its glory, the sprawling megalopolis of Los Angeles. From its position nestled atop the hills, the house provided a view of almost the entire city, all the way down past Baldwin Hills to Inglewood. Dozens of skyscrapers clustered within downtown Los Angeles in the distance to the East, and both Century City and UCLA could be seen in impressive detail. Though the atmosphere above the city contained a distorting haze, the cool late-January air provided a clear enough view to make out many of the city's most iconic details and landmarks.

Kyle couldn't stop shaking his head in amazement at the overall luxury of the whole property, and felt compelled to finally address the elephant in the room.

"How in the living fuck did Jeremy afford all this?" He asked, arms wide. "Mia said you guys don't run a business."

"We don't," Amy replied, appearing thoughtful, "but we have all the money we'll ever need thanks to one thing."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"coin," she said, as if it were the punchline to a joke. "Jeremy made a fortune from coin when it peaked. He sold nearly every coin he owned, which was..." She tapped her chin, "I think thirty thousand?"

"coin..." Kyle groaned, "I should've known." Like most people, he was late to that party, and by the time he'd taken an interest it was far too late.

"Well, what's Jeremy's is yours now, so remember, anything you need, all you have to do is ask."

"In that case, I suppose a computer would be nice. I was in the middle of a nice game of Total War, and it sucks that I'll have to start the campaign over, but..."

"Say no more. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll see what I can find."

Kyle did, selecting a narrow but cozy-looking adjustable lounge chair to lay in. He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back, enjoying the scenery before him. The weather wasn't so bad either, as even though the skies were mostly overcast, the temperature was perfectly bearable with just his hoodie. A quick glance around confirmed that thick, strategically-placed greenery on either side of the property blocked any kind of view from potentially nosy neighbors, giving the yard a very private, intimate feel. Kyle found himself immediately settling in, and he smiled wide.

Yeah... this is the life. I can so get used to this. Now I just need to have Sachi fetch me a beer, and I'll be all set.

About twenty minutes later, Amy returned, a closed laptop tucked beneath her arm. Kyle looked up, and pumped his fist. "Hell yeah," he said. "I bet that thing'll blow my old shitty gaming PC out of the water!"

She chuckled. "Don't get too excited. It's powerful, but not obscenely so." She leaned in to Kyle, closing one eye, and whispered, "because we didn't make it."

"Ah... no worries," He said, "Oh, is this Alienware? They're supposed to make pretty good computers, I think."

But as he reached out for it, Amy pulled it back out of reach. "Amy," he said playfully, "do I need to force it out of your hands?"

"You can try," she said, "or you can earn it."

"How... would I do that?" Kyle asked hopefully. Was this going to go the way he anticipated it would?

Amy simply smiled, and placed the laptop on a nearby table. She stood above Kyle, her face gazing down on him from between her mountainous breasts, at least from his perspective. Thick, animated-looking thighs spread apart ever so slightly, and Kyle gulped.

"Kyle, do you remember last night?" Amy said, hands on her hips.

"I do indeed recall the events of, uh, the previous evening, yes." Twitch. Apparently, his member did as well.

"Remember what you were so disappointed in not finding on... the other girl?"

"Umm... refresh my memory?" Oh fuck yes, It's go time!

Amy giggled. "Very well. Are you ready?"

"I'm always ready," he said, cringing internally. I've got to work on my material.

"In that case..." she trailed off as her fingers deftly moved to the waistband of her short skirt. "Be ready, because unlike Mia... I find panties too troublesome to bother with."

Kyle immediately flushed, and his heart was beating fast, all thoughts of video games and gaming forgotten. But still, that nagging, omnipresent self-consciousness of his, in its infinite malfeasance, simply could not let him enjoy this moment for what it was.

"Wait... Amy." He raised a hand for her to stop, and looked away. What the fuck am I doing?!

She paused, a hint of impatience on her features. "Yes?"

"Do you... actually like me?"

Amy giggled, then squatted down next to Kyle, bringing them both to eye level. Her diagonal bangs had fallen over her left eye, giving her sensuous anime face a charming quality. She flipped them out of the way with a quick jerk of her neck and gazed at Kyle, her jewel-like, angular eyes boring directly into his. At this distance Kyle could pick out every enchanting detail.

"I love you, Kyle." She reached out, tousling his hair, "I've always loved you."

"H-how...?" He said, feeling a weird, vaguely uncomfortable sensation beginning to displace raw animal lust. "We literally just met last night."

"Because Jeremy loves you," she said, as if it were obvious.

"Uh..." This wasn't helping. In fact, it made the sensation worse. "Yeah, but that's a family-type love. This is something... much different."

"I was made specifically for you, Kyle," she responded. Her eyes, several times larger than an actual human's, threatened to consume him."I was made, with love, to love you. That's my purpose, and believe me when I say I've spent many long and very lonely nights anticipating this day. Do you understand now?"

Kyle glanced down, examining up close the deep, inviting cleavage of her phenomenal rack. Yeah, his self consciousness could eat a dick for all he was concerned. He smiled at Amy, and gently grabbed her hand, the one still teasing his hair. He moved it to his mouth, kissing it near the wrist.

"You've convinced me," he said. "No more arguments."

"That's just what I wanted to hear," Amy said with a triumphant smile as she rose. "Now, just lay down, and let Amy take over from here."

With an abrupt snap Kyle's head and shoulders fell flat as Amy adjusted the lounge chair to a completely horizontal position. She then rose, and, standing off to one side, sensuously ran her hands up her thighs, hooking both thumbs around the band of her skirt. And slowly, tentatively, it lowered.

Kyle got up a little to get a better view. His heart was hammering in his chest, furiously pumping blood to the one part of his body that suddenly couldn't get enough.

The skirt continued to lower, and as it was halfway down her crotch, just above where Kyle knew the real fun began, she paused.

"Brace yourself," she purred. The skirt dropped.

"Ohsweetbabyjesus..." Kyle's breath caught in his throat. Between Amy's thick legs awaited a smooth, perfectly hairless cleft, which his eyes immediately dove into. Her meaty labia, cell-shaded like the rest of Amy's body, somehow seemed more detailed than the real thing.

"Lie down," she sweetly commanded, then raised one long shapely leg up and over the thin lounge chair, straddling the awestruck Kyle. He again went prone, and stared almost directly up, mesmerized by the anime woman's delectable pussy. Amy looked down, smiled sweetly... and then began to squat.

As she slowly descended, Kyle watched intently as her fat pussy lips held the cleft, not beginning to spread until she was eight or so inches from his face. And when they did, it was like a tulip unfurling, her pink inner labia glistening with morning dew. At the peak of the cleft, a small, pink bead revealed itself, bashfully peeking out from its fleshy hood.

Amy hovered directly over his mouth, and Kyle licked his lips. He could now smell the sweet, ripe scent of her spread pussy, and the first drops of juice began to gather, before dripping down, spattering onto Kyle's tongue. Kyle quickly tasted it, swirling it around his mouth. It was delicious. Sweet, tangy. He wanted more.

"Lunch is served," Amy said in a voice husky with arousal. The gap between them vanished. Her soft, warm crotch smothered his face, meaty thighs flexing against his cheeks as she held the squat at just the right position.

Immediately Kyle's tongue leaped out, diving into her vagina, a burst of rich, tangy juice rewarding his efforts. He eagerly lapped it up, swallowing, and allowed his tongue to explore, running it up and down every fold of her lips, swirling around her urethra before heading to the clit.

"Haa... Kyle..." Amy moaned as his tongue found her clitoris, flicking and swirling around it with wild abandon. He pushed and mashed it with his tongue, doing everything he could to provide maximum stimulation.

"Oh, ohh, that's, ohhh..." It turned out that lapping like a dog drinking water was the premier choice, as Amy responded by pushing down even harder, gyrating her crotch against his face. As he lapped and she ground herself against him, the trickles of juice began to surge, and audible swallows announced his full acceptance of her lust.

The grinding intensified until it seemed as though she were actually fucking his face. Just then Kyle felt spasms, first from her thighs, and then from her vagina, as it tensed hard around his tongue, as though trying to catch it. Like a winding spring the tension continued building, rising to a taut crescendo, and then... release.

Amy howled as she orgasmed, pushing hard into Kyle's face. A broad torrent of juice gushed into his mouth, enough for a full swallow, while the rest sprayed directly against his face.

"Ohhh, yes, yes drink it, drink my girl-spunk!" Amy cried as she threw her head back and gyrated her crotch again and again, a hard jet of clear, tangy fluid released with every thrust.

As the anime woman's orgasm died down, she staggered, thighs quivering, and managed to step back to one side of the lounge chair, then fell to her knees. A gasping Kyle wiped his face and looked over at her, but the loving gaze that Amy returned was filled with contentment.

"That was... amazing..." she said, still catching her breath. "You have a talent. Give me a minute... and I'll... return the favor."

Kyle's mind was swimming. That was the single most intense moment of his entire life up until this point, events of the last few days be damned. His rock-hard cock begged to be unleashed, and soon enough Amy, still on her knees, unzipped his shorts, pulling it free.

"Oh no..." The oral sex he'd given to Amy was so stimulating that he was already at his limit. But Amy moved fast, and her open mouth lunged forward, enveloping his cock.

All at once Kyle felt his shaft wrapped in a soft, moist, and very warm embrace. Amy's mouth was slippery, and she bobbed her head, once, twice... and that was all it took.

Kyle's abdominal muscles, such as they were, flexed as he blew his load, painting the back of Amy's throat with a solid blast of creamy jizz. She gulped it down, then suddenly drew back, leaving his still-spewing cock to flail wildly as spurts of semen shot out in all directions.

"Ah, fuck!" Kyle quickly moved his head to one side, barely avoiding an incoming round. Amy, now on all fours, hacked and retched between gasps for air.

"Sorry..." Kyle said, hastily stuffing his drained cock back into his shorts.

"It's... my fault... I've never done this before..." Amy heaved one last time, grabbed her skirt, and then got up. She put it back on as she stood, and Kyle made sure to catch once last glimpse of her snatch before it was concealed once more.

"I'm so sorry," she said, "I thought I could handle it."

"Heh, no worries," Kyle said, before adding," feel free to practice anytime."

Amy grinned, her eyes flashing back into their normal flirtatious mode.

"I might just take you up on that," she said with a wink.

After Amy had kissed his forehead and headed inside, Kyle remained in the lounge chair, staring straight up into the cloudy afternoon sky. That was the first real lovemaking he'd done with a woman, and to have his first experience be so... intense was truly mind-blowing.

Well, to be entirely truthful, it wasn't Kyle's first experience. Not technically, anyway. Indeed, Kyle had even lost his virginity at the age of nineteen, thanks to an awkward pity lay from one of his sister's fat friends. Were it not for that, his own hand and a few pocket pussies would have been his only source of intimate companionship over the years.

And now? He replayed the sensuous event over and over, and found himself suddenly longing for Amy's touch. Growing restless, he got up from the lounge chair, paced about the patio for a bit, then sat in a normal chair, one situated near the pool. The quiet lapping of the turquoise-blue water was calming, and Kyle stared off into the scenic horizon, doing his best to get his careening emotions in check.

She says she loves me. She says she was made for me. It's only natural to love her back, right? Kyle tried untangling his feelings, but it was all too recent, too fresh, to make meaningful sense of. Even someone as thirsty for affection as Kyle couldn't simply fall in love just like that, right? Well, why the fuck not, He reasoned. Love at first sight is definitely a thing, isn't it? I mean-

Pat, pat. A small hand was gently patting his head. Kyle reflexively craned his neck, only to find Mia standing there, having withdrawn her hand as though she were a child caught reaching into the cookie jar. Instead, she simply stared, the neutral expression on her face unreadable.

Poor Mia... he thought, recalling the events of the previous night, I hope she didn't suffer too much. But before he could ask forgiveness for his inaction the night before, and to his endless astonishment, she apologized to him.

"I'm sorry," Mia said, still staring.

"You're sorry? For what?" Kyle was perplexed.

"Think about it," she replied, before simply turning and walking away.

"What's that supposed to mean? Think about what?" Kyle cried out as Mia opened the back door, disappearing into the house. He continued staring at the closed door, hoping she would come back out and explain, but she didn't.

What the hell did she mean? Think about what? Furiously, Kyle tried going over every detail he could, anything she might be referring to that she could be the slightest bit sorry for... but there was nothing, because the only thing she'd really done to him was bring him here.

And that's when it hit. He was a prisoner here, wasn't he? But no, that's not right. Prisons are unpleasant places, and this truly was paradise, a private Shangri-La built just for him.

He thought of Amy. Immediately a pang of longing wriggled up into his chest, and he wanted to see her again. He wanted to visit with her, laugh with her, and most definitely see her...

...pussy? He once more recalled, with perfect clarity, the woman's sexy genitals spreading as they descended. Except one detail he didn't notice before suddenly burst into his consciousness, one demanding immediate explanation.

Amy's entire body, as far as he could tell, was covered in polychromatic material, giving her the appearance of an anime character come to life. Her genitals were no different... until they spread. The glistening contents of her vagina, Kyle recalled with a growing sense of horror... were one-hundred percent human.

He bolted upright, his chair scraping against the patio. That's right... he'd seen enough porn to be a virtual expert in the appearance of female genitalia, and that was definitely a human woman's vagina, not artificial or animated in the slightest.

Other realizations came. Her drinking coffee, her warm breath, her gagging earlier... was she made with human parts? The thought was too ghoulish to consider, and yet... the evidence was undeniable. Kyle ran to the back door, throwing it open, and leapt inside.

"Amy?! AMY!" He called, hands cupped around his mouth. A slight echo was all that returned, all else was silence. Thinking quickly, he recalled what Amy had explained regarding the household AI.

"Umm... I request Amy's presence in the kitchen, immediately!" He said, being sure to enunciate each word loud and clear. After a few seconds, a voice responded, one he wasn't expecting.

It was Mia's. "Amy is currently indisposed at the moment," it said, the voice seeming to come from everywhere and yet nowhere. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Can I talk to her at least?" He said, exasperated.

After a brief moment, another, huskier voice addressed him. Amy's.

"What is it Kyle?" She said, sounding terse. "I'm very busy right now."

"Are you... are you made... out of people? Like... with human organs?" Were these the hard-to-source parts from the dark web?!

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd notice," she said, as if it were nothing. "Yes, Kyle. I'm a cyborg. I utilize organic components in my construction."

A cyborg. A cybernetic organism, a hybrid, consisting of both organic and inorganic components. He'd just administered oral sex to... a cyborg?!

"But... that's so fucked up... what about the people that..." he swallowed, "those parts came from!?"

"'Those parts,' Amy said, wearily, "are grown here in the lab. We neither harvest nor traffic in human organs. In other words, no people were harmed in the creation of myself or... the others."

That was a relief. That was a big, big relief. Kyle sighed, thinking of something to follow up with, but she continued.

"Kyle, if any of this bothers you, we can discuss it later. But for now, just know that I've been given pretty much every function of a human woman for the express purpose of providing a complete relationship... all for you."

"I... understand," he finally said.

"Good. I'll be out of the lab in a little while. In the meantime, why don't you pick out a game for us to play? We have games and consoles in the office, and you can set them up in the collection room." She meant the anime and manga room, Kyle realized. "I'm feeling something old school. I trust you'll make the perfect choice. See you then," she finally added, in a suggestive tone. And then, silence.

He had to sit down. The kitchen table looked much gloomier now, without the friendly morning light playing brightly across its surface. In fact, the overcast skies outside now gave the interior a somber, funerary feel.

This is wrong. Weird and wrong. Where the fuck is Jeremy?! He stalked through the house, making his way toward the master bedroom. He tried opening the double doors, but they were locked tight. They didn't look sturdy enough to survive a determined kick, but... he wasn't about to break in, not now. Amy had said Jeremy would be back later today. In the meantime... hmm...

He tried knocking on Mia's door, which was also locked, but there was no response. Was she even in there? Shaking his head, he decided to head to the one place he knew he'd feel comfortable.

...Or so he thought. As soon as Kyle set foot in the anime and manga room, which lit up brightly as he entered, his eyes flew over to Sachi's lifeless gaze and plastic smile. She obediently stood in her corner, motionless. Well, Amy's right. She's harmless. Actually, once you get used to her appearance, it's actually kind of funny looking.

With a sigh, Kyle appraised the room, noticing things he'd overlooked during his first visit. So cool, he thought, browsing the countless DVD and Blu-Ray cases, I've always wanted to watch these shows. He suddenly wondered if he could have Mia or Amy translate the Japanese-only shows for him? He didn't doubt it. Maybe this won't be so bad, he considered. After all, if nobody got hurt making the anime girls, then really it's just my own hang-ups I need to get over, and nothing else.

He made his way over to the study, which served as a traditional office, complete with large, L-shaped desk dominating the far corner, a couch and coffee table, and modern-looking filing cabinets. The computer that was set up on the desk looked barely-used.

Hmm... what's this? Kyle spotted a large wooden cabinet in the corner opposite the desk, and opened its lacquered doors wide. Inside were rows upon rows of shelves, each containing various gaming consoles from all eras. Cords and accessories were wrapped up in transparent plastic bins, and a selection of games for each console inhabited their own separate containers. The video game collection was modest, especially when compared to the anime and manga extravaganza in the adjacent room, but... According to Amy, I could have whatever I want. Maybe I'll see if I can order... hmm... Nintendo World Championships? It's not like we can't afford it, heh...

Wait a minute. He just thought 'we.' Am I already thinking of myself as part of the family? Well... why not? Why fight against this? He thought of Amy, recalling the events earlier, the ambivalent feelings causing him to fidget. It'll definitely take some getting used to, but... I think I can make this work.

Nodding to himself, he picked out the first console that caught his attention - the legendary Nintendo Entertainment System. Being sure to grab the bins containing cords and games, he made his way over, arms full, to the anime and manga room, and set the bins on the couch. After glancing behind the giant flatscreen, he was relieved to see it pulled out, and even more relieved to find a special connector within the accessory bin that allowed the old console to connect to a modern TV. After everything was set up, he decided to start with a classic, and slapped a game into the NES.

He powered it on and jumped onto the couch, controller in hand, feeling for the first time since arriving here that maybe, just maybe, this place could really be his new home. The all-too familiar scene that flashed to life across the massive flatscreen made him smile. Super Mario Bros. it read, in its distinctive 8-bit font.

Well, she did say old school. After glancing down at the second controller, Kyle looked over at Sachi's still form, considering. Hmm... I wonder...

"Hey Sachi," Kyle finally said, addressing the crude robot, "want player two?"

Sachi turned her head, but otherwise didn't move. "What is player two?" she asked in her trademark mechanical voice, her rubbery lips trying and failing to match the spoken words.

"Here, I'll show you." An obedient Sachi clumsily ambled over, nearly tripping on the cables lying across the floor, and took a seat next to Kyle. The whole couch shook as she sat. She must be heavy, Kyle thought.

"Alright, look," he said, plugging in the second controller and handing her the first. "This is a video game. You know what those are, right?"

"A video game. Electronic entertainment typically played on a television or handheld console, utilizing controllers to-"

He cut her off. "Okay, so you know. Here, these are what the buttons do," he briefly described the functions of the basic NES controller, and the objective of the game. "Now hit start, and let's see how you do."

Sachi did, and he watched her thumb depress the control pad. On-screen, the little Mario scurried to the right... directly into the first goomba. The trademark death jingle played, and it was Kyle's turn as Luigi. Just as I figured, Kyle thought, she doesn't have any idea what to do.

"Alright, pay attention Sachi. I'm gonna show you how it's done." Playing as Luigi, Kyle demonstrated the ideal way to clear the first level with practiced ease. And the second as well, being sure to make it to the secret warp zone. Sachi, for her part, simply sat, intently observing with her crude, painted-on anime eyes. She must have a camera or two somewhere, Kyle reasoned, or else she wouldn't be able to see.

After hitting the second warp zone in level 4-2, Kyle finally died in a particularly tricky portion of level 8-1. "Alright Sachi, you're up. Let's see you top that!"

And Sachi... did much better. She apparently followed Kyle's lesson closely, because she was doing nearly everything he was doing... wait, she's doing exactly what I was doing, Kyle realized with astonishment. She's copying my every move, and with perfect timing!

Once Sachi had arrived at level 8-1, she made it just past the part Kyle had died at... then tragically fell down the very next pit. Laughing, Kyle patted her on the shoulder. "You did good, Sachi. We'll make a speedrunner out of you yet!"

"I paid attention, Kyle. Do you have any further requests?" She said.

"Sure, just watch me again. See if you can learn how to play yourself without copying everything I do." He readied his controller.

"Aw, what's this? You already found a partner?" came a husky feminine voice from behind. Kyle spun around, and there was Amy, gaily standing at the door. She was dressed more casually, with a form-fitting blue top that didn't display any cleavage but outlined her breasts perfectly... perky nipples included, Kyle noticed with increasing interest.

"W-why would you think that," Kyle said, after clearing his throat, "Sachi was just keeping your seat warm, isn't that right Sach?"

"You were showing me 'how it's done,'" Sachi replied.

Amy chuckled. "I'm glad you two are having fun," she said as she rounded the couch, plopping down directly next to Kyle, so close that their bodies touched. He gulped at the soft warmth of her body pressing ever so slightly against his.

"Sachi, can I have that controller?" The crude robotic maid obediently handed it over to Amy. "Now Kyle, hit reset, and I'll really show you 'how it's done.'" Her pretty face wore a knowing smile. Kyle did, and with a flash the title screen popped back up.

Amy hit start, and... Kyle's jaw dropped. She blitzed through the first level, making Kyle's attempt look strictly amateur hour, then did the same for the second. By the time she'd gotten to where Kyle had died, Amy's Mario hadn't been hit once, and was now fully powered-up with the fire flower. Kyle could only shake his head as she made it through the tricky 8-2, then 8-3, and finally the last castle. Amy effortlessly took out Bowser using only fireballs, and Kyle gritted his teeth as he recalled that he'd only even run underneath the last boss as little Mario.

"That's how it's done," she said, grinning triumphantly as the final music played. Kyle suddenly lost all desire to play Super Mario Bros. "Eh, let's play something else. What do you feel like, Amy?"

She reached down and picked up the bin full of cartridges, and pawed through them. Finally, her cell-shaded fingers plucked out one that Kyle was all-too familiar with: Excitebike.

"That was Jeremy's favorite game," Kyle recalled, "at least when we were little." Jeremy's family didn't have much money, so he still had a Nintendo when everyone else got Playstations and N-64s. Whenever he visited, Kyle remembered being disappointed at the fact that his cousin only had an obsolete console and a handful of games, but they still managed to make a good time of it.

"Really? I... didn't know," Amy said, her expression unreadable. "I suppose that makes some sense, then."

The game started up, and immediately they took turns racing through the various courses. She was good, as Kyle now expected, but he'd played enough Excitebike himself to more or less keep pace, and even beat her on a few occasions. After awhile, they reset the game and Amy began designing custom courses for Kyle, and afterward he would do the same for her. This is so surreal, Kyle thought, Jeremy and I used to do the exact same thing!

When Kyle mentioned this to Amy, she was still for a moment, then nodded once, as if coming to a decision. "When your cousin made me," she began, "he put more of himself into the design. After how the... defective one came out," she said, clearly referring to Mia, "Jeremy decided that I was to have more in common with him, reasoning that way I'd be able to relate better with you. So I share some of his interests, his gestures and even some of his patterns of speech. I hope none of this makes you uncomfortable. Remember, it's all for you, Kyle."

That again. It was a little... unsettling, but just then she snuggled up against Kyle, her soft, green, polychromatic hair brushing against his skin. It tickled a little, giving him goosebumps. In fact, it felt a little... electric maybe? Kyle didn't know how to describe the sensation. But just as he was about to forget the game and focus on Amy's lips, her eyes flicked up, gazing into his.

"It's your turn, sweetie. See how fast you can beat my course." Smiling, Kyle accepted the challenge, and the game was back on. And so they spent the waning hours of the afternoon chatting, swearing, and laughing amicably as they played. Once it was dinnertime, Sachi left to prepare their meals, and before Kyle had even realized it, she was back, carrying two steaming plates piled high with food. Turkey, green beans, mashed potatos and gravy completely filled each plate, and Kyle licked his lips as he dove into the delicious-smelling meal.

Man, I really shouldn't doubt Sachi anymore, he thought, I can definitely see why they keep her around. He looked over at Amy, who was daintily but wholeheartedly devouring everything on her plate. Noticing his gaze, she smiled and licked her lips, morsels of real food disappearing into an animated mouth. "Not bad, huh?" she said. "I also forgot to mention that you'll eat like a king while you're here, too."

But Kyle wasn't worried about that. A cyborg, he thought back to the queasy revelation from earlier, with human organs. That means she eats, drinks, and... presumably pisses and shits, too. Immediately, he did his best to banish these thoughts from his mind.

"That's good," he finally said, trying not to picture Amy straining on a toilet. God dammit I'm fucking eating, he angrily castigated himself, why does your mind always literally go straight to the gutter?!

After their plates were empty, Kyle was quite full, and so refused Sachi's dessert inquiry, as did Amy. Having finally grown bored with Excitebike, Kyle suggested Life Force, another of his early favorites. By the time the two of them had beaten the last boss, Kyle was yawning, and could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

"I'm getting tired myself," Amy yawned as well, "why don't we pack things up for the night? I'll help you put everything away." Kyle nodded, and after everything was snugly back in the cabinet, he turned to Amy, and suddenly hugged her.

"I had a lot of fun today. Thank you," he said. Looking up at the taller woman, he could see her smiling down at him, not with a lusty gaze, but... with tenderness. She closed her eyes, and her mouth moved towards his, her lips parting ever so slightly. Kyle did likewise, and as their lips touched, then locked around each other, he felt an electric thrill shoot through his mouth, and it was as though his chest was filling with static. Their tongues met, sliding along and exploring each other, before curling passionately.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she said as their lips finally pulled apart.

"Ever since Jeremy made you, you mean?" Kyle said.

"Well of course. What did you think I meant?" Amy said, cocking her head. He shrugged in response, and yawned once more, scrambling to put his hand over his mouth.

"Looks like you're tired, sweetie. Let's continue this tomorrow, what do you say?"

"I wanted to wait for Jeremy," he said. "He's still coming back today, right?"

"Yes, he's on his way now, but won't be home for a few hours. Why don't you get some sleep, and I'll make sure to come and wake you up when he gets in."

"Yeah... that sounds good," Kyle said groggily. Amy kissed him goodnight, this time a peck on the lips, and she headed off in the direction of the lab. Before Kyle made his way to his bedroom, he watched as Amy slipped through the metal hatch, which closed with a muffled thunk.

Kyle remembered the grand tour she'd given him earlier in the day. Amy didn't say any of the rooms were hers, he suddenly realized. Does she live in the lab? She said she sleeps in the buff... how does that work? Is there a bed in there? An Amy-sized charging station, perhaps?

After jumping in the shower, he came to the conclusion that perhaps he didn't need to know the answer for every little question that popped into his head. This really is a NEET paradise, Kyle thought, why in the hell would I want to burst that bubble?

After drying off and readying himself for bed, he found the drawers of his dresser had been filled with packages of socks and boxer briefs. A cursory exploration revealed that an assortment of shorts, jeans and slacks were also present, all in his size, and all in the non-descript, earthy colors that he favored. The closet light flicked on as he checked its contents, and an entire panoply of t-shirts, sweaters, and even a few jackets, all on hangars, greeted his impressed gaze. Looking down, he counted six pairs of shoes, ranging from sneakers to hiking boots to dress shoes, all laid out neatly in a row. Everything in here was something he'd actually wear.

Not bad, not bad, he thought. If it was the AI that ordered all these, then it most definitely beats out Alexa! He jumped into bed, snuggling into its warm, pillowy embrace, then killed the lights with a quick verbal command. Yeah... I can definitely get used to this... paradise... so nice...

Some time later, Kyle got up, only to find he wasn't in his bedroom, but someplace thick with noise and haze. Looking around, he saw that he wasn't the only one. No, actually, the place was packed with men, nearly all of them wearing long coats, trousers and fedoras. It seemed to be some kind of club from a bygone era, likely the 1940's. The place was thick with cigar smoke, and the men were laughing and cheering at the display on stage. Kyle turned, hearing the melodic keys of a piano being played... no wait, two pianos.

Pushing forward through the crowd, Kyle arrived at the edge of the stage, and his eyes popped: There on the stage, in all their glory, were Daffy Duck and Donald Duck, each of them playing a piano, clearly in some kind of hilarious musical duel. The two misfits kept cartoonishly sabotaging each other in comedic attempts to one up the other, and as they slammed and bashed each other with mallets, Kyle winced at the blows that would easily maim or kill a real human.

Finally, the two ducks had thoroughly beaten each other, as well as their pianos, and the contest was called a draw. The curtains fell and they were hauled off, Daffy hooting the entire time.

But seconds later, a spotlight fell on the curtain, and all was quiet. The men around Kyle giggled excitedly and jostled each other, clearly anticipating the next act. Kyle looked back to the curtain, which finally opened with a dramatic flourish, revealing a gorgeous, ridiculously voluptuous cartoon beauty in a shimmering red dress. Though he wasn't quite sure how how, Kyle thought she looked very familiar. She winked at the crowd, and the men howled and cheered, some throwing their hats in the air.

At last she approached the microphone stand, an old-timey design gleaming with chrome, and with a flourish began singing. Her beautiful melody enraptured the crowd, who had respectfully fallen silent, and Kyle noticed that despite being a cartoon, she could touch and hold the microphone, a true-to-life object, just as the ducks had done with their pianos.

I know I've seen her before, Kyle thought, but he just couldn't remember where. The glamorous beauty continued her breathless performance, then finally made her way into the crowd, continuing to sing as the enthralled men she approached could do nothing but smile stupidly.

Finally, she seemed to spot Kyle, and gracefully swayed over to him, stopping only inches away. Thanks to those long, shapely legs of hers, the woman was a head taller than Kyle, but she smiled down at him regardless, her gloved hands moving to her thighs. She sensuously caressed her own body, her fingers sliding erotically across her shapely legs, stomach, and then chest. At last, her fingers wrapped around the top of her dress, as if she were about to pull it down and set her tits free. As it turned out, that's exactly what she did.

No, not quite, a stupefied Kyle realized, she pulled it all down; she's completely naked! But... something was wrong. Where's her tits? He leaned in toward her chest, but there were no breasts, or even skin. With growing horror Kyle realized he was staring directly at a rib cage, one barely containing the pulsing organs within. A silent scream escaped Kyle's lips as he watched, transfixed, as her rib cage opened up, like two halves of a wrought-iron gate, and it even make a creaking sound. And what Kyle saw next made him turn white:

The woman's heart, beating and thumping; two lungs, expanding and contracting. An esophagus, leading to a stomach that churned and gurgled, which itself led to coils of pulsing, twitching intestines, that seemed to get closer and closer to Kyle. Her liver spasmed, while the pancreas quivered, and suddenly contracted. Her guts continued their own macabre dance, wriggling faster and faster, until Kyle realized that she was no longer singing; the woman was screaming.

He abruptly looked up. The woman had at once gone silent, but instead of her face, Kyle was now staring directly into Amy's.

"What's wrong, Kyle?" She said with a devilish grin, her eyes filled with madness, "don't you want me?!"

Kyle shot up in his bed, gasping for air. The hand he wiped his forehead with came back thick with dripping sweat, and he involuntarily trembled. Holy fuck, what a fucking nightmare, he thought, the gruesome dream still fresh in his mind. Doing his best to banish the disturbing sequence from his memory, Kyle suddenly realized how parched he was, and made his way to the bathroom, turning on the tap and drinking directly from the sink.

His thirst quenched, Kyle appraised himself in the mirror. It was just a dream, he told himself, just a dream. Nothing more. He put the toilet seat up, and began pissing. As he idly watched his urine stream, it occurred to him that really, such things shouldn't bother him at all. I mean, look at me, he reasoned, I pretty much have all the same organs, just like everyone else. The fact that Amy has them too just means that she's, well...

...she's human. Isn't that right? Wasn't that the goal all along? Anime come to life? The girls eat, drink and go to the bathroom within the fictional world of their respective shows... to make anime real, truly real, all of this must be respected.

After flushing and washing his hands, Kyle searched around for a clock of some kind, as all he could tell was that it was still dark out. Almost reluctantly, he cleared his throat.

"Ahem. Um... can you give me the current time?" He said aloud, not sure which direction the hidden microphone pickup was located.

Again, Mia's voice answered. "It is currently 4:48 AM, Pacific Time." A sense of unease tickled Kyle's spine as he recalled Amy's promise to wake him up once Jeremy returned.

Don't tell me she forgot, he thought with a flash of irritation. Now wide-awake, he threw on some of his new clothes, remembering at the last second to pull the tags off, and headed for the kitchen. The entire house was dark, still, and silent, the only sources of illumination being the lights that flickered on as Kyle moved through the house, then switched off just as he was out of range. It kind of made Kyle feel powerful in a way, like the house itself was his servant, doing everything in its power to please him. Wait, didn't Amy say something almost exactly along those lines?

Once he'd made it to the kitchen, its lights obediently turned on, but thankfully not too bright. Kyle started as he noticed something sitting on the long kitchen table. Hurrying over, his heart leapt as he found a single sheet of paper, and on it, a handwritten note in black ink. Kyle immediately snatched it up, and began reading.

'Yo Kyle!' Was written across the top in large letters, followed by, 'Hey man, Amy tells me you're really digging the place. I'm glad to hear it, and I'm sorry about what happened to your apartment. But Amy was telling the truth, I really want you to stay here with us, and be a part of our family. This is a big house, and it's really empty, since I can't just invite regular people here. Aside from myself, you and Rick are the only ones that have ever even been inside, and I don't think he knows what the girls really are. In other words, just having you live here makes the place a little livelier, even if all you do is lay around in your underwear playing games all day.'

Kyle smiled when he read that. Fucking Jeremy, he thought, shaking his head.

'Anyway, the truth is I've been very busy trying to find some high-grade rare-earth materials that you can only get from China, so I've been meeting with suppliers but nobody had what I needed... until I got a call from one of my contacts over in Hong Kong. This is a do-or-die offer, so by the time you read this, I'll already be on the plane and in the air over the Pacific Ocean. I feel terrible for running out on you again, so I have a present: A brand-new phone, a Samsung, top-of-the-line. Go ahead, it's yours. Make sure you set it up too, because I'll be calling you once the plane lands. Until then,"

And finally, at the bottom: 'Your favorite cousin, Jeremy.' Kyle slid into one of the kitchen chairs, still clutching the note. He read it again, then once more for good measure. By the time he finally set the note down, Kyle was beaming. I knew it. I knew he wouldn't just flake out on me for no reason!

Suddenly in high spirits, Kyle asked for Sachi, requesting a cup of coffee and biscuits 'n gravy for breakfast. Within moments, a trundling Sachi whirred into the kitchen, where she promptly began whipping up Kyle's order.

So that makes sense, Kyle thought. To make such incredible things, he probably needs all kinds of crazy hard-to-find shit. It almost made too much sense. And who the fuck is Rick? Is he that associate? He'd have to ask Amy or Mia, whomever he saw first.

While waiting for Sachi to finish his breakfast, Kyle busily unboxed his phone, which had been sitting in its package next to the note. The instructions were simple enough to follow, and within moments his phone was activated and he was busy rearranging the menu to his liking. He touched the contacts list, and...

"Aw, FUCK!" He said aloud, setting the phone on the table and putting his face in both hands.

"Do you need assistance?" Sachi asked, her head swiveling around in an unnatural way.

"Well, only if you can give me the phone numbers of my Sister, my Aunt, and my best friend. And... I guess my grandma, but..." she was senile, and probably not long for this world. He felt bad, but he'd only ever met her twice, both times as a child.

He turned to Sachi, whose head still regarded him with its unsettling anime-eye gaze and creepy smile. "I never bothered to remember their numbers. I guess I just figured once it was in my phone, that was good enough." But, I mean doesn't pretty much everyone do that nowadays?

"I apologize, but I cannot access the requested information." Sachi's head slowly turned back around. "I suggest using the Residential AI or the internet."

"Makes sense..." he said, not at all surprised or disappointed that Sachi couldn't help him. Sachi was probably kept from accessing the internet, as he knew at least his Aunt's number was publicly available. Sachi was probably restricted to her own special database, and if she were to need internet access, it would be facilitated by the Residential AI under its strict supervision.

Man, AI is pretty fascinating. As soon as Jeremy calls I'm going to talk his fucking ear off! Kyle looked down at his new phone with growing excitement, especially because contact with Jeremy was finally guaranteed. The very last time Jeremy called, years and years ago, Kyle had been playing some game that he now couldn't even recall, and with his headphones on didn't hear the phone's ringtone. When he saw the missed call, and listened to Jeremy's sorrowful message, he'd kicked himself for a week straight.

Kyle played around with his phone for a little while longer, and was about to access the internet when he abruptly slapped his forehead. What am I doing that for? I have a laptop too! He ran outside, there being enough light from the kitchen for him to navigate around the furniture, and scooped up the laptop that Amy had brought him. It had sat where she set it all night.

"Cold! Coldcoldcold!" Kyle ran back in, the door closing behind him. "Ah... warm..." Now back at the kitchen table, he fired up the laptop, then groaned as it went through first-time setup.

Sachi's breakfast was finished by then, and it was good, really good, the biscuits 'n gravy easily being as scrumptious as anything from a restaurant. Kyle ended up getting the creamer for the coffee himself, as Sachi had already just left. By the time he was back at the table, Amy had staggered into the kitchen, blearily rubbing her eyes. She was wearing a lime-green robe that was tied around her waist, but otherwise hung loose, giving Kyle a generous eyeful of side boob. Twitch... no, no, too early for that...

Amy smiled sleepily at him as she noticed his presence. Making his way over, Kyle embraced her, his hands feeling her voluptuous body beneath the soft fabric of the robe. Amy pecked his lips with a kiss, and announced her need for coffee. As she moved to pour herself a cup from the batch Sachi had just made, Kyle took a seat at the table, the same one he'd taken the day before, and looked again at the note.

"Have you seen this yet?" Kyle asked, holding the note up. Amy turned to look just as the paper curled down limply over his hand. "It's a note from Jeremy! He said he was in a hurry last night, so I'm guessing that's why you didn't wake me up?"

She nodded. "That's the exact reason. There just wasn't any time. He came running in just before midnight, grabbed some paperwork, wrote you that note, and then left just as fast. By the time I would've gotten you up, he'd be halfway to the airport."

Kyle shrugged. It made sense. Plus, now he had a phone, so at least there was some method of communication.

"And to answer your other question, I did see him writing that note, but I haven't read it. What does it say?" She sipped her coffee.

Kyle read the note out loud. Amy smiled and touched his arm as she walked past, taking a seat across from Kyle, and listened intently as he read every word his cousin had written.

"...your favorite cousin, Jeremy. That's it." Kyle said, setting the note down. He was gonna have to save it somewhere.

"Well, good. I'm glad that's straightened out. It takes around fifteen hours to fly to Hong Kong, so you should be hearing from him..." she thought for a second, "no later than four PM, I'd say."

"Right on," Kyle replied, making a mental note to keep the phone with him at all times, with volume maxed. "The only other thing... who's this 'Rick?'"

"He's our gopher. We hired him years ago, and basically he picks up groceries and other supplies, grabs our mail, delivers packages, things like that... he was here yesterday, actually, dropping off your new clothes."

"Really... was he the so-called Amazon driver that delivered Mia?"

"That's right," Amy said, taking another sip. "Occasionally we have odd jobs for him like that, which we always pay well for."

A sudden fanfare from across the table caught their attention. It seemed Kyle's laptop had finished its setup, now ready for use. Kyle brought it over to his seat, and began playing with it while Amy glanced at her tablet, the same one she'd shown him the day before.

Hmm... looks like it still needs some updates. But first... Kyle downloaded his preferred browser, and began googling his favorite websites, rebuilding his bookmark collection for easy access later.

What's this... looks like the next Fallout game is gonna come out soon... Ew, it's got multiplayer, Bethesda why?! Not that multiplayer was bad per se, but some game franchises were simply meant for single player, in his opinion. Next, he checked the latest anime news... and glanced up at the literal anime woman sitting across from him.

Those otakus would shit their pants, like literally sit there while loading their drawers, if they saw what I'm looking at right now, he thought with a braggadocios grin. His anime lover was still sipping her coffee, thumbing various commands into her tablet while holding it one-handed.

Next... hmm... should I do it? He thought, I haven't been there in forever, not since... Don't think about it Don't think about Don't think about it!

Kyle shook his head. No, that was in the past. He was now living a new life, here with his cousin, a quirky robot and two anime girls. Things were different now. Better. He could handle it.

Girding himself, Kyle typed in the url he knew by heart, taking him directly to the /Pol/ subforum of . A rare gem of anonymity, it was a magical place where nothing was sacred, and all could freely post political content with the risk of censorship or exposure. It was here that he first learned of the threat posed by the Elites and their allies, and it was here that some of Donald Trump's fiercest supporters gathered to make their voices heard.

At least, that's how it used to be. And... it was still there, looking the same as it always did. He clicked on the catalog...

Kyle immediately regretted it. Taunting posts were splashed across the page, memes featuring a sassy, rotund black woman hanging whites, or drawn as a saint with white people bowing reverently. One depicted her raping a corpse using a strap-on, the face on the body looking like...

God dammit, Trump... Kyle thought, teeth clenched. He'd never been the biggest Donald Trump fan, but during the 2016 election, he'd gotten caught up in the hype like everyone else. He'd laughed during the speeches and debates, facepalmed mightily during Trump's most embarrassing moments, and finally, on the night of the election, drank himself into a delightful stupor once the results came in, and Hillary Clinton had conceded.

Despite his nominal support of Trump, Kyle had never considered himself a Republican, or even really conservative. Instead, he liked to consider himself 'red-pilled,' which, at least to him, meant 'aware.' Aware of the vile taint infecting the highest rungs of society, aware of the grander schemes of the rich and powerful, and aware... that something very, very wrong was spreading throughout Western Civilization like a cancer. But what was it? Depending on the day, it could be Radical Feminism, or Communism, or Pedophiles, or even the Happy Merchants themselves, rubbing their hands like a fly about to dine on an especially juicy turd. Perhaps it was all of the above? Everyone seemed to have their own take on what the 'Great Enemy' was, with memes, screenshots, infographs and insults serving as their primary arguments.

But there definitely was something wrong with Western Civilization, that much was clear, and the great hope was that Donald Trump, being a political outsider, would somehow right these wrongs. Trump himself seemed to have some awareness regarding the wrong direction the United States was taking, signified by his catchphrase, 'Drain the Swamp.' It was hoped that after he'd taken office, Trump would clean up the staggering corruption that lay so deeply entrenched within the Washington power structure, hopefully setting the stage for like-minded movements to sweep similar sicknesses from Europe and elsewhere in the world.

At first, things progressed, albeit slowly, with the mostly-liberal media screeching and howling over Trump's every word, while sham investigations and dubious accusations threatened to derail his Presidency, as well as ruin those closest to him. But true to his nickname, 'Teflon Don,' Trump seemed to emerge unscathed from each trial, with only his opponents worse for wear.

As for the so-called 'deep-state' (a nebulous collection of unelected bureaucrats, Anti-Trump politicians, rogue Intelligence Agents, Globalists and other powerful individuals), which facilitated and maintained the corruption in the United States entirely for their own benefit, it was believed that Trump would root them out, exposing not only their treachery, but a litany of sick and horrific crimes these individuals either participated in or had a hand in covering up. Kyle saw numerous allegations of everything from blatant corruption and fraud to violently abusive pedophilia and even worse things, and many people on both sides of the aisle were implicated. There was plenty of evidence out there condemning some of these individuals, and a slew of circumstantial evidence existed that implicated the rest.

At first Kyle didn't want to believe that such people existed, but as the evidence piled up, and the people investigating these individuals disappeared or got spooked into silence, eventually he came to accept that there existed an untouchable class of ultra-elites who were essentially above the law... and these people delighted in using their power and privilege to indulge in the most unthinkable of hedonistic pleasures.

And the very worst of these individuals, extremely powerful people who were at least allies of the deep state, if not part of it directly, were, if the politically incorrect imageboard was to be believed, pursuing the goal of world domination. Kyle again scoffed at this, at least at first. After all, these were nothing more than Illuminati and Lizard People-tier conspiracy theories, right? Over time, Kyle realized, with a soul-shriveling chill, that there might just be some substance to these dark conspiracies.

Kyle fervently hoped all of these individuals would at least be investigated, and those guilty brought to justice. He closely followed various 'insiders' that posted on 4chan's /Pol/ imageboard, insiders that claimed knowledge of impending mass arrests, and swift justice coming to the worst of the offenders. But none of it ever happened. The 'insiders' were either frauds or misinformed, or possibly just idiots that tipped their hand, giving the deep state and their allies time to react.

In reality, there were some investigations, but the deep state sacrificed some low-level pawns, adjusted its tactics, and things continued on as usual. Oh sure, there were the multitude of pedophile busts, the exposure of the sham Russian investigation, and other victories, but in the end, the true powerbrokers of societal ruin remained untouchable.

For awhile, Donald Trump had counted as his allies the Military-Industrial Complex, which itself had at one time been under the thumb of the Deep State. While Kyle was never a fan of the MIC, it was hoped that, with Trump's influence, the Complex would re-orient itself to the task of actually protecting America, instead of lining the pockets of the ultra-wealthy. Indeed, the MIC flourished again under Trump, and it was believed the President's personal safety was guaranteed by the power they wielded.

By the time the midterm elections rolled around in 2018, Kyle was getting nervous. Donald Trump's signature style had permanently alienated him from a large portion of Americans, and while Kyle generally rolled his eyes at the Liberals who cried 'fascist,' 'racist,' or other hyperbolic epithets at Trump, it was undeniable that an undercurrent of opposition was forming against the 45th President, thought it was scattered and largely disorganized at the time. Because of that, the Liberal victories in the midterms were perhaps not as extensive as they could've been.

Still, the Republican majorities in both the House and Senate had vanished, and Trump's political future was beginning to look grim. Trump's behavior grew increasingly erratic, his tweeted statements ever more mind-boggling, but even then, rumors of major busts going down and 'the storm arriving' to sweep away the corruption swirled around the /Pol/ imageboard. Surely now, with his political back to the wall, Trump would begin taking his enemies seriously, and do whatever it took to keep these ruthless individuals from spreading their putrid rot throughout America.

Kyle continued to hope, even then, that somehow the President's policies would turn the country around, and 'Make America Great Again' for all Americans, as Trump had promised. Donald Trump tried, he really did; Kyle believed that then, and still believes it now, but... even for someone of Trump's stature, his enemies were simply too numerous, too powerful, and too well-entrenched. Even the mighty Military Industrial Complex was not omnipotent, and certainly not omniscient, as Kyle would soon learn.

One day, on a chilly mid-morning in March of 2019, Donald Trump collapsed during a routine briefing with his Joint Chiefs of Staff. He was rushed to the George Washington University Hospital, and for a time, every television was tuned to the news, every smartphone and television streaming the latest breathless update. Liberal news anchors spoke solemnly, with barely-contained glee, as they described the circumstances of the moment and offered any tidbits they could to assuage anxious viewers.

Eleven hours later, Donald J. Trump, 45th President of the United States, was pronounced dead. The official cause of death was a complication stemming from congestive heart failure. For liberals, this was a holiday; for conservatives, the very blackest of days. Politically speaking, the split between left and right furthered more in that one day than in the past decade. For Kyle, it was a painful day, a reminder that hope is for the foolish, and true justice exists only in the world of make-believe.

If Trump's victory on election night was /Pol/'s greatest triumph, then Trump's death was its lowest defeat. For three solid weeks, the imageboard was invaded by gleeful leftists, who inundated the board with the cruelest, most taunting of memes, driving away even the most hardened oldfag, as those who'd used 4chan longest were known. /Pol/ became filled with nothing but wave after wave of memes designed to inflict maximum emotional torment on anyone who ever even dared to support Trump. Gone was any kind of camaraderie or community spirit, no more were long threads discussing redpills and dissecting happenings from around the world. All that was left was pure spam, and the moderators did nothing.

Since 4chan's /Pol/ had been reduced to rubble, Kyle joined some of the others who had migrated to 8chan, another imageboard with better moderation which offered a /Pol/ version of their own. Upon first browsing 8chan, Kyle eagerly read about rumors that Trump was still alive, and that his 'death' was all fourth-dimensional chess meant to bring his enemies out into the open. But as time went on these rumors were revealed to be a cruel hoax spread by impostors seeking only to inflict additional torment.

But, shortly after Trump's death, there was something substantial that caught the interest of 8chan's users. A video interview of a nurse, who'd worked at the hospital the night Trump was brought in, claiming to have seen and heard Trump, not only conscious but articulate, calling for his Chief of Staff and demanding help. The interview quickly went viral, and the very next day, the exact same woman, visibly shaken, now publicly claimed that she'd been mistaken, and that she had merely been working too hard and had forgotten to take her medication. After that, she vanished.

Her bloated corpse was fished out of the Altamaha River in Georgia three weeks later.

Though many people cried foul, and demanded answers, the remaining Republicans did what they thought best for survival, and in the current political climate, that was to turn their backs on the fallen President and all he stood for. Mike Pence, who had taken over as President, resigned three months later, a victim of a vicious allegation regarding a supposed cover-up of Trump's 'treason.' For in this toxic political climate, all previous allegations leveled at Trump, spurious or not, were dug up, polished off, and weaponized against the remaining Republicans to devastating effect, and the worst was yet to come.

Trump's many enemies were not just satisfied to see him dead; no, they wanted any and all vestiges of 'Trumpism' relegated to the same toilet bowl of history that Nazism had once been flushed down, and anyone associated with Trump treated with similar scorn. And once that had been accomplished, the Republican Party itself was now circling the same drain, as guilt by association was a powerful weapon most rank-and-file Republicans had little way to counter, especially since they had nearly all worked with, supported, or otherwise promoted Trump at some point during his presidency.

Furthermore, as these lesser Republicans lacked Trump's trademark perseverance and tenacity, they became easy prey. This would end up being a common theme throughout the 2020 election season, as beleaguered Republicans were hounded about their past dealings with Trump, and one-by-one they simply folded like a deck of soggy, urine-soaked cards.

The 2020 elections were a true political bloodbath, with the Democrats succeeding beyond their wildest dreams, while Republicans lost states that hadn't gone blue since the days of segregation. The Grand Old Party was essentially now only one of those things, as overnight the party had lost nearly all political capital, effectively ceasing to exist as political entity of any consequence.

Kyle hadn't watched the election night in 2020, as it had been a foregone conclusion who would win. Oprah Winfrey, whom many had once derided as a joke and dismissed out of hand, enjoyed a landslide victory the likes of which hadn't been seen since the days of Reagan. There was some irony to this, as Trump himself was once similarly dismissed out of hand, and of course he went on to trounce all opposition leading up to the Presidency. Oprah was treated similarly, at first, but shortly after announcing her candidacy she became a media darling, and her supporters were every bit as fanatical as Trump's had once been.

Even the Donald himself would have struggled mightily against Oprah, who came with many of Trump's perks but few of his drawbacks. As it was, her campaign grew into a juggernaut that crushed all opposition during the Democratic Primaries of 2020, and obliterated the lackluster nobody that Republicans ran to oppose her.

During the 2020 Presidential campaign, 8chan had become something of a headquarters for the online right-wing resistance, and the 'meme wars' began anew once more. This time, however, the left was ready. The liberal left, their endless donors, media allies and foreign backers, along with throngs of young would-be revolutionaries and social activists, were tireless in their quest to swing America as hard-left as possible. Because of this, Kyle was disappointed to find that the second so-called 'meme war' had become very one-sided indeed. Trump's death, and the lack of any real justice toward the vile powerbrokers that still ran things behind the scenes, had taken the fight out of most veterans of the first 'meme war,' and the left ran roughshod over all online opposition.

To make matters worse, shortly after Oprah's victory 8chan permanently went offline, for reasons Kyle never learned. He'd heard rumors of another 'chan out there, a hidden chan, one free from shills, leftist agitators and nosy federal agents. Kyle never did find it, thought admittedly he didn't search as hard as he could've. And so he, and many others, reluctantly migrated back to 4chan, but 4chan's /Pol/ was never the same since Trump's death, even after the vitriol died down to normal levels, and after the conclusion of the 2020 election the liberal left once again dominated the imageboard.

Kyle was fed up by this point, and so left 4chan, and hadn't been back since. The 35-year old NEET instead turned to his games and anime, spending his days focusing on something that might distract from the growing radical leftism sweeping not only North America, but Europe and Australia too.

And so it was that at the dawn of the second decade of the twenty-first century, the political pendulum had again swung, this time far, far to the left. Social Justice Warriors, those that opposed racism, sexism and bigotry with racism, sexism and bigotry, using convoluted justifications and cult-like reasoning for why it was 'okay when they did it,' began exploding in power, popularity, and influence. Censorship, threats of public exposure, and even physical violence were deployed against the enemies of social justice, which included those that at one point would have been their allies. Kyle himself was one, but the Overton Window had shifted so far to the left that Kyle himself, once a 90's liberal, was now considered a Hitler-worshipping fascist, at least by the standards of the new, ever-more radicalized left.

On January 20th, 2021, only a few days before Mia's box would cross his doorstep, Kyle reluctantly watched Oprah's inauguration as the 48th President. The newscasters were cheerful and excited, and the cameras were repeatedly swept over a packed crowd stretching for miles. Her inauguration speech had been a rather standard, hopeful affair, preaching true equality and respect for all Americans, and promising economic prosperity for the entire country. Kyle found himself wishing it were true. If any one of these fucking politicians ever actually meant what they said, Kyle recalled, fuming, Trump would've never even needed to run in the first place!

After that Kyle again returned to his lonely hobbies, reasoning that, no matter how bad things got, as long as he laid low and minded his own business, he could at least live out a semblance of a life in peace, and then one day depart this wretched world before things got too bad.

After all, what else was he supposed to do?

As Kyle sat there, regretting his decision to revisit 4chan, which once again had completely fallen into the clutches of online radical leftism, a post in the catalog, halfway down the page, caught his eye.

It was a photograph of bloody, hanging bodies, five of them, all white, all male. They were strung up from a freeway overpass outside of Chicago, and all had crossed-out swastikas crudely spray-painted on their chests. The text simply read, 'We're coming for you racists.' The comments were a shitshow, so Kyle checked the link for the article the picture originated from.

Sure enough, the article, posted on HuffPost, gleefully described how a group of five so-called racists had been driven from their homes, then beaten to death and strung up in full view of the public. The only action the police had taken was to remove the bodies and make vague promises to 'launch an investigation,' but the article made it clear the perpetrators were heroes, and all actions were to be taken to support and protect the brave young freedom fighters who murdered the vicious racists who most assuredly deserved their grisly fate. After all, the article implied at the end, surely if the victims were allowed to run free, it would lead to Nazi Germany all over again. Because obviously.

Kyle recalled the many articles he'd read over the years condemning all white people as racist, articles which usually ran days apart from other articles claiming all racists deserve prison, forced mental treatment or re-education... or worse. The connection was not hard to make.

Kyle scowled and closed the browser. Amy glanced up, her eyebrows furrowed.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" She said, putting her tablet down.

"Eh... this article," Kyle said. He didn't feel like going into detail.

"What article? Let me see it." Reluctantly, Kyle opened the browser back up, and selected the article from his browser history. He then turned the laptop around and slid it over to Amy. She perused the article intently, her expression hardly changing as she read. Finally, she closed the laptop and handed the computer back.

"You don't have anything to worry about," she said. "Remember what I told you, you're safe here."

"Yeah I get that, but this is fucking bullshit. I mean this is the sort of stuff you see in Mexico, not here." According to the article, the only crime the authors could identify was that the men had been accused of being racist. No specific acts were listed, no victims named. They were just young, white, male, and someone had decided they were racist. Kyle explained that to Amy, but she dismissed his concerns with a casual wave of her hand.

"Look, Kyle, the world is a fucked-up place. I get that. In fact, I get it all too well." She said. "That's one of the reasons this house has been set up. It's a sanctuary."

"So... great. When do we start taking refugees?" He said it as a dry joke, but, for the first time, Kyle considered something. "You know, with all this incredible tech at our disposal... we might be able to do something."

"Oh no, no, no... do not, even for a second, think that we're risking everything your cousin built here over five nobodies from Chicago." Her tone had taken on an icy edge.

"Well obviously it's too late for them, but..." Kyle tried to think of some way to reason with her, "there's going to be more victims one day. It doesn't matter how politically correct people are, things keep moving left so fast that something that's perfectly fine to say one day could get you killed the next."

Amy rolled her eyes. "You're exaggerating."

"Only a little though, that's the fucked up thing," he retorted.

"Kyle, listen to me, and listen well," Amy said, standing up. She straightened her robe, and looked straight at him, her catlike eyes taking on a more hawkish gleam. "The world is going to shit. I know this. I read the same things you do-"

"You go to 4chan?" Kyle asked.

"Eww, no." She wrinkled her nose, "But I still see it. The societal rot, the decay that slowly dissolves the foundations of America. I see it. But there's no stopping it Kyle, it's inevitable at this point."

"If you did go to 4chan, they'd call that being 'black-pilled.'"

"If being 'black-pilled' means acknowledging that there's literally nothing any of us can do to stop what's coming, then yes, I'm 'black-pilled.'"

Kyle was becoming agitated himself. "And what's coming, huh? Do you know that? Do you know what's on the horizon?"

Amy shrugged. "All I know is that some come kind of collapse is almost certain within the next ten to twenty years. In fact, I'd say the likelihood is almost one-hundred percent. I don't know what form it'll take, or how many will die, I just know that the Western World is pretty much done for. I don't know exactly what kind of world will replace it, either, but what I can tell you is that this coming world... is not one you're going to want to live in."

Kyle was silent. After thinking for a moment, he finally said, "How can you say that and not want to at least... I dunno, try something?"

"Like what, Kyle? Like what? What do you want me to do?!" She was beginning to yell.

"I don't want you to do anything. I'll ask Jeremy." He folded his arms and petulantly turned away. It occurred to Kyle that he didn't actually know where his cousin fell on the political spectrum. It was unlikely that Jeremy was any kind of extremist, but felt it prudent to ask.

"Political spectrum?" She seemed a bit taken aback. "He's not on there at all, really. Jeremy wants to build his own private paradise, just for us, and let the rest of the world rot. I happen to agree wholeheartedly with this stance."

"So Anarcho-Capitalist, then. Awesome." Kyle felt disgust. Amy he could understand, she wasn't even really human. But his cousin? How could he be so callous?

"Kyle, again... it sucks, but please try to think this through, and realize how lucky you are. You have a life raft when everyone else is trying to tread water with bricks around their necks. You can take one or two people aboard, sure, but any more and nothing changes..." He turned back, and she looked him straight in the eye, "...except that you drown too."

Kyle sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "Yeah... I guess you're right. I don't know what we could possibly do. But I'm going to try and think of something."

"Well, just remember that Jeremy is the decision-maker around here." Still looking him in the eye, Amy's tone somehow became harder and softer at the same time. "Kyle, I love you, you know this. Your cousin loves you. But if we feel you are about to jeopardize what he's built..." she trailed off, letting the implication speak for itself, before continuing. "You won't do that, right?"

"...No..." he finally said. "I would never do that. Family first..."

Amy seemed to brighten, just as the first color was beginning to show in the morning sky. "Good, I'm relieved to hear it. And don't you worry, things are going to be just fine for a good long while. So why don't you just sit back, relax, and redownload all your old games on that computer? I'll give you the info you need to repurchase them all, and even a few new ones. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good," he said halfheartedly, as suddenly playing computer games just seemed... so trivial.

But Amy either didn't notice or didn't care. "Excellent. Have a good time, sweetie. I'll be in the lab all morning, but once I'm out..." her flirtatious tone was back. This... did not seem so trivial.

"Alright. I'll catch you later," Kyle said with a wave of his hand, as she disappeared down the hallway.

"Collapse, huh..." he didn't know what to make of this. Was there really nothing that could be done, even with all the incredible technology here?

Surely there was something they could do...