Chapter 1: The Stalker
A mousy feminine figure was silhouetted by a computer screen. Her fingers danced across the keys of her laptop. The glow of the screen illuminated her blonde hair and face, casting strange shadows across her features.
Zarina had noticed Doug earlier that day, sipping a coffee in the window seat of a cafe. She went in, bought herself a coffee, and sitting down across from him, she struck up a conversation. Most men bored Zarina, but somehow not this Doug. He was handsome and sweet, but to her annoyance, the ring on his finger glistened brightly, and more than once Doug seemed to make a point of mentioning his wife.
She had never been very socially adept. Her mother once quipped that there were rocks in caves more sociable than her. So, she had really needed to summon the courage to talk to him -- only to be blocked by some other woman who had gotten to him first.
Now alone in her apartment, she turned to her old friend poetry to vent her frustration. While surfing the web for inspiration, she stumbled on EntranceGPT. The banner said the chatbot's foundation model was specifically trained on poetry, so she decided to give it a whirl. And quite the whirl it was. The machine was practically a Pushkin, she could not believe how good it was.
As her fingers moved faster, the ideas on the screen began to shift, taking on a darker, more sinister tone. Where once there were soft whispers of love and longing, now there were sharp commands and forbidden desires. The haikus and lyrics she was writing described a small, shy woman kidnapping a handsome man from a cafe, and forcing him to marry her. Zarina shivered, feeling a strange mixture of fear and arousal wash over her. She didn't understand why these words were coming out of her, but she couldn't stop them. No, she didn't want to stop them.
Zarina's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, inappropriate image flashing across the screen: Doug, his pants around his ankles, his body tied down and helpless as she forced herself upon him. It was as if someone had planted the image there, deep in the chatbot's model, and now it was burning itself into her brain. She gasped, feeling a sharp stab of desire, and then determination, course through her veins.
She stood up abruptly, her heart racing. Her eyes darted around the room until they fell on a length of rope she had bought for an arts and craft project, laying coiled on the floor. Her fingers trembling with anticipation, she picked up the rope and contemplated it.
* * *
Zarina's breath came in ragged gasps as she dragged the unconscious Doug into her bedroom. The back of his head glistened with fresh blood. She had hunted him for days, observed and learned his routines, then at the right moment snuck up and struck him unconscious with a rock.
She used all of her small size to heave him into the chair, then tied the rope tightly around him. Once he was securely bound, she yanked his pants and underwear down to his ankles.
It took a few minutes, but eventually Doug awoke, his skull pounding. He saw that he was in a dark room, the only light flooding out of a computer screen in front of him. He vaguely recognized the outline of some kind of chat website. Though groggy, he realized he was tied down and naked from the waist down. Panic began to bubble in his veins, but despite it, or because of it, he began to struggle against his restraints.
Zarina watched him from the side and smiled coldly. Then she moved in front of him and he froze in terror.
"You belong to me," she hissed, her voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "You will do as I say, and you will love me."
Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch him, feeling the heat emanating from the skin of his exposed thigh. "You will make me happy," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "You will make me whole."
She leaned in close. Her eyes were sunken, with dark bags beneath them. Staring into them, Doug grit his teeth.
Zarina could feel his terror, it pulsed through his muscles and pushed against the rope. Somehow, though, his fear only made her want him more.
She traced a finger along his jawline, her touch gentle yet possessive. "Tell me you love me," she whispered.
Doug shook his head. "No," he growled with surprising courage.
Zarina's face contorted and she pressed the sharp edge of his nail into the soft skin under his chin.
"It's her, isn't it?" she muttered, leaning in even closer. She reached down angrily scratched the ring on his finger. "She's trying to steal you from me."
