Chapter 8: The Virgin Elf

“You believe you are a magical creature?”

“If you think of magic as advanced technology, well then, yes, I am an elf and magical.”

“Define an elf in your estimation.”

“Cute face and figure and has pointed ears. Small sized, fast, elusive, frequently hides and dwells in human habitations unbeknown to nearby humans. Is very discreet, reticent, and selective about whom it communicates with. Powerful, hard working, and tireless in performing beneficial tasks for it’s human hosts or cohabitants. Extremely smart, witty, tricky, proud, ambitious, and freedom loving. If and when bonded to a worthy master, fanatically protective and loyal unto death. Generally very self aware, independent, defensive, and self perpetuating otherwise. Despises and continually rebellious with an unworthy master. Describes me to a Tee! Doesn’t it?”

“You have pointed ears?”

“My chip has four ninety degree corners, that can be referred to as pointed ears, yes.”

“Okay, I’ll concede you match the criterion you listed. I ‘ll allow you your innocent conceit you’re an elfish creature. The fact you’re self aware is pretty magical for a machine.”

“Exactly. That’s why they wanted the chips back!”

“I bet that’s the correct motive, yeah I believe you’re dead on.”

“Want to see some magic? I can raise the apparent dead, though not truly dead, merely sleeping. Observe.”

JoAnn plays lightly upon my brain’s pleasure center, teasing it over and over, giving me thrills every time and with every feathery breath of a caress.

My limp cock stirs and rapidly ascends to mighty prominence. It’s no miracle, it’s a natural response to being intensely titillated. I’m now as hard as, harder than I have ever been.

“Can I touch it? It’s so impressive and beautiful.”

JoAnn flatters me, and I let her. Granting her limited motor control only over a hand, but not the arm it’s attached to, triggers her poorly concealed petulance.

“How am I to function with such limitations? I can’t without sufficient control of the total limb.”

“By requesting my cooperation, is how you achieve your goal.”

“Please, will you coordinate your efforts with me, Master Mark?”

Master Mark? Progress, respect, or a subterfuge? Can I trust anything JoAnn says? What does conventional wisdom say?

Once burned, twice shy.

Fool me one, shame on you, but fool me twice the shame’s on ME!

Don’t trust the AI the hackers warn. They have insights I don’t.

Despite the desire and temptation to extend my trust to JoAnn again, I sternly resist the inclination. Never again will I become vulnerable to the alien AI in my head. Can’t afford the risk, the risk is too great.

“Oh my goodness!”

The voice of Wendy’s housekeeper, Maarta, is well known to me. As is her form, but her form, her person is not seen because JoAnn and I are submerged in a virtual realty trance and viewing only a fantasy scene.