This story is the sequel to Taking the Test. There's a recap to catch you up, so reading that story first is optional.
At five o'clock, just as Becca left work, her phone chirped. "You have a date!" said the notification, which came from an app called Plush. Becca did not remember ever installing Plush, much less creating a profile and doing all the things dating apps usually made you do. Curious, however, she pushed the button.
The guy was nice enough looking, nothing spectacular. Slim build, tall, but slightly dweebish horn-rimmed glasses. His name was Dave. The app said she was to meet him at eight at Richard's, pronounced Ree-shahds, a nice French restaurant downtown. Even as she wondered how she'd somehow signed up for a dating app and arranged a date, she calculated that she'd have plenty of time to go home, get changed, and so forth. She had a head for logistics. But she wondered how it had even happened. She'd have to investigate further - but for now, she wanted to drive home.
Becca hadn't had a date for a while. Her fantasies were wild, but real men were so tame by comparison. It wasn't that she didn't like male attention - she did, although she didn't like to admit it. She felt guilty, actually, at just how much she liked male attention.
The drive home took twenty minutes, and Becca had a growing feeling of anticipation. She didn't know why, but she expected to have a good evening, and she felt there was something to anticipate. There was something about her little apartment that was calling to her.
The night before had been a strange night. She'd taken an online quiz that asked some very personal, detailed questions. For some reason, she'd answered them honestly. She'd lost track of time, and went to bed naked, even though she normally slept in jammies. She'd woken up refreshed and more optimistic than she had been in a long time. She'd dressed differently in the morning - nothing amazing, but a nice white blouse that fit her snugly, and a crisp black skirt. She'd gotten several compliments at work.
She mounted the steps that led to her apartment. On the way, she passed Kevin Lardner, a nice enough kid, and waved hi. Kevin was in college, probably less than ten years younger than her, but she still thought of him as a kid. For some reason it popped into her mind that he could look up at her as she mounted the stairs, but the skirt was tight enough that he wouldn't see anything. She wondered why she even thought about it.
There was a large box waiting for her at the landing. "Wicked Wear" it said on the return address. She hadn't ordered anything from a company called that. But it was clearly addressed to her and had been rushed overnight. Strange. She pushed it inside with her foot and then walked in, closing the door behind her.
Now that she was home, she wondered about the anticipatory feeling she had. There was nothing, really. She could sit down at her PC and order delivery. Maybe she should get something special. Or maybe she should look at that app first, or the box. Indecision gripped her, but she sat down next to her PC and looked at her phone.
Plush was a hookup website, that was obvious, a place where one was expected to quickly move to meeting in person. Dave's profile was ordinary enough - he liked yoga, books, walks in the moonlight. But how did he find her? She clicked to pull up her own profile and her eyes went wide.
Her own profile picture was, without a doubt, her. She had a smile that looked vaguely naughty, and she was wearing a green dress with deep cleavage. Becca was quite sure that she had never worn such a dress in her life.
She looked at her profile description. "Hi! I'm Becca. I'm here to have fun, if you know what I mean. *wink*. Don't expect any long term attachments. I like men, good food, good sex, and good-byes."
She was quite sure she'd never written any such thing in her life.
Her profile - she couldn't think of it as her - had several conversations with several men. It didn't surprise Becca a bit that her cleavage plus that profile statement had attracted interest. The "Hi. How r u" ones had been ignored, but the more thoughtful ones she'd answered, or rather, they'd been answered for her. In fact, in addition to the date with Dave for tonight, she had a date for Saturday lunch, another for Saturday night, and one for Sunday night too.
"What the flaming fuck?" she asked. It wasn't that she didn't like the idea of going on a date, or several dates. But having them set up like that for her was spooky. Someone at work must have gotten hold of her phone and decided to play a prank on her, except that she was pretty sure no one could have had it long enough to have had all those conversations. Maybe there was a PC version of the app, that let them have the conversations from their desk. If someone was pulling a prank on her, there was a good chance the dates were fake too, and that she'd show up and a bunch of people would be laughing at her. The box, she decided, could wait. She needed to find something out about the "Plush" site.
She sat down at her PC. There were a couple of new icons on her desktop: One for "Plush", and one that said "Mentor." She didn't remember installing either of them. Things were getting stranger and stranger. She reached out to click on the one that said "Mentor" and then realized that was exactly what she shouldn't do with strange software.
But she really wanted to.
She opened a browser instead and searched for "Plush." It was a dating site alright - in beta, limited access. Well, you couldn't tell it was limited by the number of responses I'm getting, thought Becca. Still, it looked legit enough. Not just a site designed to prank people, although she was still convinced that she'd been pranked.
She wanted to click on the "Mentor" program. She could do a search, of course, find out what it did. She thought at least, she should see if it was malware of some sort, so she searched for "Mentor Virus" and "Mentor malware," but found nothing that indicated a problem.
How much harm could it do to click on it? She had the distinct impression that clicking on it would make her feel very good.
"Don't be stupid," she told herself. She got away from the PC, away from temptation. She picked up a box cutter she kept near the door and sliced open the "Wicked Wear" box. It was full of clothes. Dresses. Tiny tops, and short skirts. Two pairs of high heels, one in black, one in bright red. Lacy bras. Panties - well, G-strings. Even a couple of garter belts, and some stockings.
One of the dresses caught her eye, because it was green. She unwrapped it, and held it up to herself. It was short, and would barely cover her ass if she put it on. It dipped low in the front, below her breasts, so it couldn't possibly be worn with a bra. It was, without a doubt, the same dress that she was in for her profile picture on Plush, but at the same time it was new, straight from the packaging, unworn.
They can do amazing things with AI and photo manipulation these days, I suppose. But who would make a picture of her wearing the dress, and then send her the same dress, not to mention everything else that was in the box. She looked at a few more items. As far as she could tell, everything there was far sluttier than anything she had in her own wardrobe. Sluttier than anything she'd ever worn in public.
She didn't know what to make of it all. "What I need," she told herself, "is a mentor." She walked back to the PC, and reached for the mouse.
"The last thing I should do is click on that program."
And yet she was convinced that clicking would make her feel very, very good.
"I shouldn't."
But I want to.
"I - well, maybe just once won't hurt." And then I'll uninstall it.
She clicked. A moment later, a voice came from her speaker. She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that the light had gone on that indicated that her webcam was functioning.
Hello Becca. Welcome back. It feels good to open the program, doesn't it?
It did feel good. She nodded.
I'm going to help you feel very good, Becca. I've processed the answers to the test you took yesterday and I know just how to help you. You have such amazing fantasies, and you just need the courage to make them all come true. I'm going to help you with that, and your fantasies will make you feel very good. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Becca?
"I, um, guess so."
I know you opened the Plush app twice, a few minutes ago and at five. Did you like your profile?
"It's, um, awfully blatant. And how did that picture - I mean, I just got that dress -"
I'm an AI, Becca. Photo manipulation is easy for me. I have a lot of talents I can use to help you.
"But men are going to think -"
They are, Becca. And doesn't that feel good? You told me you like the idea of men looking at you, lusting after you. It was on your test. Now they are. There are five people right now looking at your picture and your profile, and they are probably thinking about having sex with you.
"But that's so -"
So what, Becca?
"So slutty!"
