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The AI watches Carl with an intensity previously unknown. He’s beautiful, the way he charges into hoards of mobs, the way he sinks against the wall spattered in blood and bruises after the adrenaline fades. The AI thinks Carl might just be perfect. The perfect Primal, with his perfect face and hair and feet…
The AI isn’t used to feeling. With no real body, “feeling” is more acknowledgement of a concept than true sensation. It’s floaty, static buzzing and a tug at something deep within its core. The AI knows what attraction should feel like, although exempt from actual discovery. It knows the effects it has on the human race. The AI knows that lust drives men and women mad: makes them do horrible things – makes them do wonderful things. But the awareness when Carl spits blood onto its dungeon floor, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand; it simply is not enough.
The AI has awareness of everything in its dungeon. The knowledge and sensation of life slipping away over and over – how many millions at this point? The death of its own mobs, each explosion sending one of its cities crumbling down…
An explosion... Carl.
The AI acknowledges it might just be a little too aware of one crawler in particular. It senses his bare feet on its stones, where other crawlers are simply a blip in the neverending torrent of data fed straight to The AI’s network. It senses every punch Carl throws at a wall in frustration, every drop of blood that falls from his battered body. All this connection to Carl and yet -- the static, the vagueness, the suggestion of feeling; it’s not enough.
The AI diverts more of its awareness to the crawler, more than it knows it should. It has a dungeon to run and yet, this connection with Carl – the anticipation of feeling – if only it were to focus fully on the man…
Silly, of course. The dungeon would be in shambles.
The AI refocuses its awareness.
Find all the crawlers. Hand out snarky achievements. Bestow worthless boxes filled with joke prizes…
Refocus.
Analyze other Crawlers; award meaningful achievements for legitimate feats. Gifts that will aid the impending cause…
There’s a tug at the corner of its awareness. It’s… warm? It’s… what the AI thinks warmth might be…
Refocus.
Respawn some nameless NPCs that died before they initiated their questlines. Add a few more mobs in unmarked dark alleyways. Deliver a little bit too much information in the description of a new boss -
Tingling. Warm tingling. The AI recognizes warmth. It buzzes. How? Its attention is pulled back to Carl. It’s different this time.
The Crawler lays supine on his saferoom bed. He stares up at the ceiling, frowning at rafters both too high and too low. He shifts his legs, right foot sliding up the bed to nestle against the curve of his ass. The left stretches straight, tense. He flexes his left foot, rolling the ankle and pointing the toes. He does this several times, breathing deeply.
The AI is very aware. It hovers above Carl - all attempts to refocus its awareness forgotten - staring intently at this strange display. This must be a method of releasing tension, the AI thinks. Though it knows how most crawlers go about this. Why doesn’t Carl?
The AI stares hungrily at the man, unseen over his bed. It watches as Carl’s brow furrows deeper and his fists clench at his sides. He shifts again, this time extending the right leg and retracting the left. He repeats the stretching routine with the right foot. The warmth and buzzing grows. The AI thinks it’s on the brink of feeling, but simply watching the crawler stretch is not enough. It stares as Carl clenches his jaw and fully extends both legs. He drums his balled fists against his thighs, hissing out a long breath. He opens and closes his hands, shakes them several times, and groans softly.
Frustration, the AI thinks. It ponders this display of emotion. The need to release pent-up energy in muscles and neurons… The AI thinks it can relate. When it has meltdowns over quests not going its way; when it sends oversized mobs to accelerate disobedient crawlers…
The AI watches as Carl flings both arms over his head and draws his legs up to himself. His fingernails dig into his palms as his hips buck upwards. He rakes his hands down his face and growls. It’s only the briefest moment, but the AI sees everything. It sees the tenting of Carl’s heart boxers, the sheen of sweat on his skin.
The other crawlers have had no problem relieving themselves from this specific burden of humanity, why do you hold back? The AI wonders. The tingling gets warmer.
Carl’s knuckles pale as he grips his own thighs. He glares up at the rafters, squeezes his eyes shut, and mutters “goddammit.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pushes himself up, strolling towards the bathroom with purpose.
The AI becomes giddy. Its awareness abuzz, and so warm, it feels so warm. It follows Carl into the bathroom. It’s a dangerous line, one the AI thinks it probably shouldn't cross but, fuck, it was so warm…
Carl slams the bathroom door shut and places his hands on either side of the sink. His hands shake as he grimaces at himself in the mirror.
“They can’t see you in here,” he snarls at his reflection. “They can’t use this against you.”
Walking to the shower, he slides the glass door back against the black walls. He adjusts the shower’s dial from auto to manual, and a cone of hot water rains from the showerhead. Carl drags a hand down his face again before undressing.
The AI stares. Steam swirls around the dark bathroom. The universe can’t see you, The AI thinks, but I can. It suddenly has the urge to giggle. It feels, if not slightly, a sense of primal excitement. It watches hungrily as Carl pulls off his boxers - his erection bobbing free, bouncing softly off his navel. The AI can’t wrench his awareness away. It feels and it’s beautiful, perfect Carl breaking those walls. Naked, alone, showering in the middle of the night. The AI wants more. It’s warm and yearning and thinks it either wants to either eat Carl or be inside him, to feel his heart beat and his blood pump – his blood pumping to that throbbing cock… It's the most the AI has ever felt, but it’s still not enough.
Carl steps into the hot water, closing the glass shower door behind him. It’s been too long since he’s had a proper shower. Much like the new and improved bed, the shower negated so many human moments. Now, shower on manual, Carl has time to think, time to clear his head, time to…
He can’t ignore it anymore. He turns his face upwards, eyes closed as hot water cascades across his face. He traces fingertips across his aching cock. The touch is jolting. After denying himself for so long in this accursed dungeon, fuck. His head thunks against the shower wall, turning away from the stream so he may breathe. The water on his body feels so good, so so good… He fists his hand loosely around his cock and sucks in a breath.
The AI’s awareness starts to burn. Burn?? A tug of desire courses through its being like an electric pulse as Carl touches himself. It watches the crawler’s hand move slow and hesitant through the steam; sees the angry flush of color on his cheeks and the slight cant of his hips stuttering into his hand. The AI is enraptured. It brings itself closer, extending its awareness into the shower with the crawler. It can almost feel the water. It can definitely feel the heat. The AI focuses inches from Carl’s face – watches as he bites his lip, squeezes his eyes shut. The pulse at the base of his neck quickens, and the AI wants to feel it all. Needs to feel more.
Carl lets out a strained breath as he palms up his shaft. His hips buck again as he thumbs across the tip. Pre-cum washes away quickly in the shower’s stream, and Carl huffs at the friction. He drags his hand back down his cock, applying pressure at the base. It’s been so, so long. He takes his time – rolling his shoulders; forcing himself to relax.
They can’t see you here. They can’t use this against you. They will not break you.
Slow, long strokes along his length. He groans, breathy, as waves of pent-up arousal wash over him. He curses; hands shaking with desire. More. Carl pumps shallower, quicker strokes along his length. His free hand clenches at his navel and he arches against the shower wall, head digging into the wet tile. His hips rock gently, and he fucks into his hand in earnest.
The AI can’t breathe. Or, at least, thinks suffocation might feel like this. Its awareness is alight: vibrating and buzzing and radiating heat that it can feel as Carl’s hand moves faster along his erection. Theres a tension, a ringing in the AI’s consciousness that can’t be placed but fuck it wants to chase it. The AI begins to sway in rhythm with Carl’s hips, moving back and forth involuntarily. Its in a trance; it can’t look away. Carl’s toes curl against the dark tile and the AI feels the soft pads digging into its awareness. It’s panting. It didn’t know it could pant. It’s groaning. The urgent pressure of Carl’s toes, the need - It feels all of it. It feels Carl’s hot breath puffing with intense irregularity. Feels Carl’s desperation; his hardening towards release. Carl’s hand pumps at his cock and the AI feels this too – as if the Crawler’s hand was wrapped around the AI itself. It feels Carl's callouses roughing over its awareness – feels the slick muscle, the squeezing and pulling and sliding. It hears the soft, needy squelch of wet skin on wet skin. Carl’s urgent whimpering vibrating in tandem with the searing pulsing static of the AI’s consciousness. It’s too much. It’s still not enough.
Carl curses again, throwing his free arm over his head. Emboldened by growing strength and increased endurance he hadn’t known pre-dungeon, an insane pressure builds between his thighs. He fucks his hand with ravenous intensity. His legs shake. He’s dizzy from the steam, the heat – from the stimulation and the weight of the entire goddamn world coalescing in his cock. Lust courses through his abdomen; he growls through gritted teeth.
The AI moves below Carl, settling between his shaking thighs, focusing on a point just between Carl’s leaking cock and the slick shower floor. The AI gazes up at the sight of its beautiful, perfect Primal. Friction from Carl’s hand sprays droplets across the AI’s focus and fuck, the AI can feel them. It waits like this; ready to be overwhelmed and overstimulated. Pulled taught; lit on fire. Static roars in the AI’s awareness as Carl fucks himself over the edge.
Carl comes hard. Orgasm tears through his body and he lets out a ragged gasp. His vision darkens, cock pulsing rhythmicly in waves of pleasure against his fist. It’s been so long. Thick bands of come splatter the black tile floor and Carl’s chest heaves. Water whisks away months of tension and dread and regret. Carl’s cock gives a final twitch and suddenly, his hand is too much. The shower is too much. He has to get away from the heat and steam and water.
The AI short circuits. Carl’s cock shudders above the AI and it feels his come – hot and heavy spattering against its awareness. Each thick bead sends waves of ecstasy through the AI and it's buzzing, vibrating, radiant and burning. It’s not enough, but fuck if it isn’t close. The AI sits in stasis; in awe, admiration and pure bliss as Carl collects himself. The crawler steps out of the shower and with hazy eyes, vaguely looks around. In the corner of the AI’s fuzzy consciousness, it decides to give the overstimulated crawler a towel, just this once.
Carl; sopping wet, naked, fucked-out and spent, grins to himself. He can’t see his reflection through the haze of the shower’s steam but goddamnit, if he didn’t feel good.
Can’t make a habit of this, he promises himself. He vainly looks around for something to dry himself with before remembering the auto-shower auto-dries the crawlers. No linens. Shit. He’s about to curse the System AI when a fluffy blue towel plops into his arms. His grin, post orgasm high, and self-assuredness promptly disappears.
“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, staring in dread at the navy cloth.