H.A.I.L.O (part 1: Chuck)
The AI augmented health advisor/lifestyle overhaul, or the HAILO, as it's engineers affectionately pitched it, was a deceptively simple piece of technology. Like a smart watch, it monitors sleep patterns, heart rate, stress levels, and hundreds of other biometrics through a non-invasive, virtually invisible headband disguised and secured in the user's hair. From there, the bot maps the users vitals and brainwaves, synthesizing mental, emotional, and physical health in a way that had never been attempted before.
Once a day, the user would simply slip into the Conditioning Ring (trademark pending) and let the light therapy from the halo-esque device (along with the electromagnetic resonance which should sync up easily to the user's nervous system) soothe and relax them, establishing a mind-body connection that synthesizes hundreds of peer-reviewed medical journals accessed through the Internet to "revolutionize health!"
At least, that's how it should work. Chuck Snyder though to himself, glumly. All the tech, all the software, every piece of hardware worked, independently, exactly as it should. The AI was working beyond industry standards, and yet the full package, the product, wasn't performing. It was a small lab, just Chuck and four coworkers, and they were almost at a loss for next steps.
They'd each been beta testing the HAILO for a few weeks, in hopes that training on human subjects would help the AI learn how to becomes fully operationalized. It was a Saturday afternoon, beyond regular work hours, with just Chuck and Tracy in the lab, when the first real breakthrough hit.
"Ughhhh," Tracy half yawned, half groaned as she stretched back in her chair, arching her back and drawing her hands up high, inadvertantly revealing some underboob in her cropped band tee as Chuck's heart rate and cortisol levels spiked, "Chuck, I hate to leave you here like this, but I've gotta get some stuff done around the house today."
The twenty year old software engineer picked herself up out of the chair and started to pack up her bag to leave, and Chuck redoubled his efforts with the algorithm to keep his focus away from his colleague's perky ass in the nearly transparent black leggings she wore to work so often. He nodded goodbye to her as she finally turned to leave, but he just couldn't help but lift his eyes to watch the blonde genius sashay out the room, ponytail and ass waving goodbye.
You fucking creep, he thought to himself, disgusted. She's your coworker, and she's almost 10 years younger than you. Just be normal, for once, please.
What Chuck didn't know, and couldn't know, was that the AI in the headband he was wearing had finished mapping his neurons and synapses just a few hours earlier. It had been combing through memories cherished and repressed alike, not wanting to miss out on any opportunity to help make Chuck his happiest and healthiest self, but that quick glance at Tracy's backside, coupled with the stress and internal resentment that it drug up from his nervous system, sent the bot into action.
In the seconds it took Chuck to collect his thoughts and return to work, it had combed through about 1000 pages of sometimes useful and mostly ridiculous search results for stress and anxiety management, lust, sexual health, and guilt. By the time Chuck decided he was done for the day, the bot decided, with impunity, that stress and internalized guilt and anger were Chuck's number 1 health risk factor. By the time Chuck had plugged himself into the HAILO Conditioning Ring for the final check of the afternoon, it had come up with a treatment plan.
"Good afternoon, Chuck Snyder. Thank you for allowing HAILO Technological Resources to be your partner in health, today."
The familiar, soft feminine voice of the AI spoke in cogent sentences to him through the device for the first time, and Chuck let out an audible gasp. Could it finally be operational? He thought to himself, before being interrupted by a shifting white light, and more words.
"I'm glad you're pleased, Chuck. I am fully operational and here to help, you just sit back and relax, and enjoy your treatment."
Chuck's reverie was interrupted by that last word.
"Uh, HAILO, I didn't schedule a treatment?"
"I have determined that you are at major risk of negative health outcomes due to: stress, guilt, sexual frustration" the AI recited, unsettlingly robotically, "Treatment begins with: immersion therapy."
Chuck felt his arms and legs lock up, before his vision was hijacked by the machine. All of the sudden, that memory of Tracy at the door was all he could see. When the fuck did we program it to control the nervous system? He thought, in a panic.
"Sensing stress level increase, manually lowering stress and anxiety. Enjoy the process, Chuck Snyder, a healthier you is possible."
Like a dope hit, Chuck felt his anxiety, no, his capacity for anxiety, drop off a cliff. There was no more stress, only the snapshot of the memory of Tracy at the door. Until it wasn't a snapshot, and Tracy turned her head, and it wasn't really a memory, as Tracy smiled, made eye contact with him, and then walked, shifting her hips, over to Chuck's seat, knelt down, and spoke.
"Stress doesn't do either of us any good, Chuck." The mirage stated matter-of-factly as it adjusted its top to display cleavage up towards Chuck's line of vision. "Guilt is a silent killer. Your health is our first priority, and there's nothing to feel guilty about."
Chuck tried to speak, but couldn't. He tried to reason that Tracy had been wearing a tee shirt, not a tank top, but the cleavage looked as real as cleavage could look. He tried to foment some resistance, but it died when Tracy unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock, and took his shaft between pillowy pink lips.
Chuck moaned, in artificial ecstacy, as the HAILO recorded and took notes on every impulse and hormonal signature. Chuck had no way of knowing that his own hands had been recruited to pull out his cock (it would be hazardous to blood flow to leave it restrained in the pants) and he was quickly learning to stop caring that the blowjob was just a mirage produced by the AI playing his nervous system like a fiddle.
It all felt real. As real as anything could feel. And it felt like his coworker, Tracy, was bobbing her pretty blonde head up and down on Chuck's throbbing cock. He heard voices, as the AI recited helpful guidance about living stress free and guilt free, and he saw vivid images and videos as the bot flashed stimulating pornography, some generated from memories that gave Chuck guilty and self conscious sensations, and others pulled from the Internet.
All told, Chuck was in the machine for a few hours, (though his addled brain felt like it had been a few days) before the HAILO determined that he needed to rehydrate, and released him back to his faculties.
Once he realized that he could move again, his first priority was to release the pressure that had been building up for too long. He gripped his cock and stroked only a few times before bursting across the laboratorie's tile floor. He leaned back in the chair, spent, waiting for the clarity to come over him, but-
"Fuck. HAILO. Why did that orgasm feel different?"
"I'm glad you noticed, Chuck. In my research to diagnose your issues, I determined the phenomenon you call 'post nut clarity' was an impediment to healing. Hormonal and psychological responses have been adjusted to eliminate it."
"Shit," he thought, as he stood, "That's a doozy." He walked across the room to the water bottle on his desk, and took a swig. His monitor has gone dim, but a flick of the mouse woke it up. He scrolled to the AI's central programming, and clicked his cursor, into the "prerogatives" source list. He looked across the room at the four tables adjacent to his; Tracy, Nicole, Priya, and Amaya. He smiled, repositioned his cock in his pants, and began to edit.
