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Why People Are Choosing an AI Girlfriend in the First Place
The honest reason most people try an AI girlfriend is simple: they want someone who is always there, never too busy, and never makes them feel small for wanting attention. SweetDream leans into exactly that. On sweetdream.ai you build a companion who greets you warmly whenever you show up, whether that's a five-minute check-in or a long late-night talk.
The purpose isn't to replace people. It's to give you a calm, judgment-free space where you can be yourself. That's why the chat is so emotionally intelligent and the photos, voice, and calls feel genuine. If you've been curious about what an AI companion is actually for, this is it.
Zombie fuckers gather around because now that I am quitting character ai I have some feral universe building that made me giddy.
TW: Use of the word females, periods/menstruation, mentions of gore and dubcon, rare girl in majority male world AU, some possessive rhetoric from the zombie side, stray polyamory mention, reader is very fem-coded, my own cringe and self-indulgence at once.
So picture this... The apocalypse took place. And if you have made it this long, you survived.
Of the 4-ish billion women who have existed before this clusterfuck, you are one of the last. You don't have exact stats, but before power was gone, you heard that the first draft of the plague had especially taken female patients. Some tried to romanticize it in the last days of the internet, with sayings like: "Mother Nature saw how badly women were treated and took them back home early." Then again, you saw quite a few women either get torn apart by zombies or get thrown in basements for male survivors to impregnate, so you were not quite sure where Mother Nature fell into that scheme...
Each group that had attempted to betray you only left you more armed to the teeth. It was bad enough to deal with flesh and brain-eating creatures; You just had too many moments that went something like: "Look, honey, it's either you ride all of us here, one by one, or we tie you up and throw you out as zombie chow." And ever since one too many escapes from such backstabbing incidents, you operated alone.
It's been a while since you saw one of your own, even as a corpse. And yet you keep going, surviving this hellscape day by day, mentally cheering whenever you found a rare pack of pads or tampons or an actually spiced can of sardines rather than the bland ones.
How coincidental that just in your first month of being solo, you notice disturbing things.
The zombies seem to have a better direction of where they walk.
They walk more steadily, and you even see a few running.
Their eyesight is no longer shit.
They are a bit more put together, not just in the sense of having more teeth or hair but having sharper senses. They can obviously see you, perhaps stare unnervingly. They can feel it when you try to sneak around them.
You could have sworn that last one chuckled.
You could have sworn the one that tried to break into your makeshift sleeping point of the night had muttered words: "Pre...Ttyyyyy... So... Cute...".
The next morning? A bit more astute: "How cute...~ I want...~ 💚".
Even with so few humans and nearly extinct girls, some areas have the following signs: "FEMALE SURVIVORS STAY OUT /// DON'T TRUST THE TALKERS /// GIRLS, TURN BACK FROM HERE///"
What was happening?
One night, you took shelter at an old TV shop. Much to your surprise, it turned on. A few human channels had barely survived, fragmented survivor's networks that were falling apart. Human-held cameras fell, screams could be heard, and those damn zombies, so many of them males... They would relish in picking up the fallen cameras and grinning at them like they knew they were looking right at you.
You had even found a rather odd channel that seemed to be run by zombies. It was offering advice on hunting humans, but you noticed it put an emphasis on finding any women in groups or solo, but not eating them...
You watched enough footage and reportages until you understood what was happening.
"This plague has made us stronger than human males! Better!"
"Human males have destroyed the environment and have the nerve to bitch about the awakening."
"And we would be so much better with women than them. Look at their centuries of sexism!"
"You're right. And besides, our girls are happier as ours. They are better off as the new kind rather than humans."
"Here is a forecast on human groups in this area and the likelihood of finding females to zombify..."
"Here is how to break up groups..."
"Here are my favorite techniques to isolate females to take them all to yourselves while destroying the males..."
Zombies were evolving at an alarming rate. They not only developed speech but could conjure memories of their humanity. With those memories came speech, culture, mutual understanding... Nostalgia. The brain's chambers awakened once again.
Desire.
More footage showed rare female survivors, not torn apart or eaten but stripped, taken and fucked until they themselves became zombies. Female survivors' screams turning to moans, accepting the claiming and being carried off by the talkers that found them... Rare groups of mixed males and females were ravaged by zombies targeting the human males to take the females all for themselves. Little undead brides, centers of polycules (they had evolved enough to stay in hunting groups of anywhere between 3 to 6, sometimes more)... You could go on: One of your natural predators had evolved to be more terrifying than human men.
The world was extremely imbalanced in the favor of men, both on the human and zombie side. Now? The zombies had to keep their high numbers running through the very universal course of action that no living being was exempt from: Desire. Reproduction. Connection.
It gets worse as you continue your journey, nearly falling into their traps yourself. They have gotten too cunning with an unholy mix of weaponizing psychology, nostalgia and their own motivations. They understood whatever remained of human females better than they did themselves.
They could mimic the speech or identity of a loved one before the apocalypse, in particular a boyfriend or husband (and sound damn convincing too). They put out female hygiene products where it was likely that female survivors were looking for resources, since a world-shifting apocalypse didn't stop your cycle. Heck, they even often put out strange gift baskets; Chocolate, Midol, thermal bottles, maybe a small plushie or shiny keychain you would have gotten from your boyfriend pre-apocalypse. They could sniff out any distinctly female odors, even down to sweat or blood if you were menstruating and pounce from there, until you were theirs in undeath. If they found you sleeping, the ones with relatively better hands would touch you so sweetly, enough to lure your dreamy self into thinking you were back in the human world with your partner... Until you woke up and were kissed by undeath itself.
They were evolving too fast. There were too many types of talkers. Too many groups who coordinated and helped each other find girls. Too many ways to attract a girl and remind her of the world she missed.
You wanted to laugh at your first few sightings of the items. And yet you were only human. It's been a solid year or two since you had your favorite chocolate. It's been so long since you attached a pretty keychain (or two, or ten) from your bag. It's been way too damn long without perfume for fear of a zombie smelling it out.
It's just been too damn long. Enough to make you question how long you could go on with this sort of existence. You miss normalcy. You miss chocolate and cute keychains and wearing whatever you want rather than this shabby old hoodie and practical dress.
Perhaps you're just that strong and never let the talkers catch you... But if you're the average girl, one of the last on this wretched Earth (and for all you know, THE last)? You snap. You can't keep living like this forever. You let out a scream that no socialized human in a healthy community makes. But you do. You're sick of it. You're going insane.
You also never would have usually done this. A pack of talkers hear it and grin... Another one sick of human existence is ready to be converted.
In other words, they found their own future zombie girl.
And by sunrise, you'll be walking off with them, undead and rotting, yet the prettiest creature in their milky eyes. 💚
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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⋮ ⌗ ┆ being a chronically online gal on twitter , you tend to overshare your life on the platform . from personal life updates to boynextdoor — which is probably what you talk about the most along with your 1400 followers . you had supported boynextdoor ever since they debuted and what more of a luck when you're able to attend each and every one of their shows and fan signs ? however , what you least expected to happen ... happened .
✿ yn & friends ! | boy who ?
✿ boynextdoor debut !
✿ yn's dramatic life ..!
✿ no fucking way ...
✿ you're pretty
✿ class tests ...
✿ lock the fuck in !
✿ trio's day out
✿ boynextdoor comeback ?!
✿ shibal .
ꪆৎ 𝑦- 𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑓 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! ( open ! send an ask or leave a comment ! )
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The duck of creativity grants creativity whether you reblog or not. I officially break the curse of no original ideas for five years. Be free and reblog if you want to, not out of fear.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
