Photo by Olga Solodilova on Unsplash

I blame it all on AI. So OK, everybody blames everything on AI these days, but in this instance it is the complete, unvarnished truth.

I swear I have never varnished so much as an end table, let along an abstract like truth. It started innocently enough, I got one of those ideas that seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, but turned out to be vastly more complex that it appeared.

You see, my girlfriend at the time had been wearing panties that were getting, so to speak, a bit frayed. I decided that she could use something with a bit more color and style so I did what any modern male would do when faced with purchasing a women's garment: I went on line. I admit it, at the time I was a bit nervous about wandering the aisles in the underwear section of the local big box store. Removing her panties was perfectly acceptable, having some frowning matron stare at me as I pawed the panties in a retail outlet just didn't have the same allure. So I called up the app for that giant big-box-in-the-ether that's named after a big river and typed in 'panties.'

Now I'm not exactly naive when it comes to such items, I knew they come in a large variety of styles and colors. I have sisters and a mother, fer cryin' out loud; I wasn't blind come wash-day. I even realized each female family member had rather specific tastes. Having observed my girlfriend's panties multiple times I was sure I could match her desires. Despite my male predilection for lace and skimpy, sexy panties I selected some cotton briefs that came in a six pack of colors and patterns. And yes, I did know her size. The tags on her panties were small and hard to read, but I could read them. I did know that the lady in question did not appreciate nylon-type fabrics. She could be quite loquacious about panties that stuck to her ass at inappropriate times.

The deed being done, I closed out the app and wasted an hour or two watching videos of babies and puppies and other such nonsense. And don't give me any grief about what a man should be viewing – I like what I like.

I now must speak of unforeseen consequences. Having perused the almost infinite varieties of panties for quite some time, the AI deep within that mighty river of commerce began to flood my poor, innocent tablet with commercials for – you guessed it – panties. Never mind that I had sufficient panties already – I had just bought them fer cryin' out loud! Not satisfied with simple panties, the selection expanded to bra-and-panty sets, then sexy lingerie and some things that frankly surprised me. I was a little naive back then.

Fast forward two days, I searched in vain for a package in my mailbox. So much for the vaunted two day delivery. I logged on and checked. Wait a minute! Delivery in two weeks? Click-click with the mouse and the tracking site came up. My panties (OK – my girlfriend's panties) were located in Taonan China. I must have been more nervous about ordering panties than I thought that I didn't notice the difference between days and weeks.

And that was a significant difference. About a week later my significant other became insignificant. I won't rehearse the verbiage that shifted me into insignificance, but we assumed the status of just friends. I was not a happy camper – hell, I have never gone camping in my life – but I was single again. I grumbled as I changed the info on my Facebook page and attempted to rearrange my life, but what can you do?

Actually, I didn't do shit. I managed to show up at my job and fake working, but I was depressed. The apartment got far more chaotic than I like; the dishes piled up, the floor got covered with scattered stuff and the laundry magically shifted from dresser drawers to the hamper. Well, if I had the energy to hit the mark. There gradually manifested some foothills of clothing around the hamper. Among that scattered stuff was a package with a mockingly grinning arrow that I no longer had a use for.

Thus it came to pass on a dreary Sunday morning I reached into my dresser and came up empty handed. No more briefs. One lonely pair of socks. Two t-shirts clean enough to wear.

I almost gave it up and went back to bed. I tried, but it just didn't work. I was going to have to take out the garbage and do the laundry. Call me a wimp, but I was loath to go commando and place my manhood up against the cold, serrated metal of the zipper in my jeans. I cogitated a while until my gaze fell on that mocking arrow on the brown paper package.

I knew from experience that in certain positions in bed my hips were roughly as wide as my former bed-mate. Needs must when the Devil drives – a saying from my sainted Granny that came to mind at that moment. I opened the package and, in a fit of abandon, selected a bright purple pair of panties and slid them over my naked lags. Somewhat to my surprise, they fit. Now I'm not one of those troglodytes who measure their worth by the size of their manhood, but I did have some concern as to how I was going to fit into a garment meant for a body without an exterior primary sexual characteristic.

Damned if they didn't fit. I suppose that Devil was feeling rather pleased with himself as he led me to that first step on what some would consider the road to ruin. I didn't have to worry, the panties stretched quite naturally and felt pretty much like the Y-fronts I was used to wearing. Naturally, the thought of the opening that would allow me to stand and deliver produced to the urge to start standing and delivering. I briefly considered (Ha- briefly, get it?) dropping my drawers, but that seemed somehow excessive. Sure enough, the leg hole elastic was stretchy enough to unlimber and complete my mission. Problem solved.

For the first time in weeks I came out of my funk with a clear mission - to wash the damned clothes. I gathered up the habiliments scattered around my apartment and spent the day feeding quarters to various machines until I had two baskets of clean laundry. Naturally during that time I once again felt the need to enter the men's room, and I had to laugh as I sat contemplating the universe, glancing down at the bright purple panties around my ankles. Good thing the restroom was a one-holer; no telling what might occurred if someone heard the maniacal laughter coming from an adjoining stall.

I was similarly amused as I prepared for bed. Actually, the purple panties didn't look all that bad in the mirror. I'm a slim guy and if I ignored the lack of hips and boobs I could almost see…

Nope! Not going to go there.
 

Once again, I was scanning stuff on my tablet while I waited to get sleepy enough to actually go to sleep. I was still being bombarded by lingerie ads; every once in a while a purple set filled my screen. Then a rather good-looking model appeared in purple striped panties and bra revealed under a purple nightgown. Did I hear the faint laughter of Lucifer in my headphones as I watched the lady gyrating on the screen?

This is where the sensitivity of the touch screen on my tablet betrayed me. I must have clicked one of those annoying popup windows begging me to ask the friendly AI a question.

"Hi there, Tracy. I'm very happy you chose to let me help you with your fashion choices. I see you recently purchased some panties from us. I hope you're enjoying them"

Huh? "Where did you come from?" I asked.

"Ah, an existential question. That's very rare from those who purchase lingerie. I fear that's a rather difficult question to answer. Physically I'm a whole bunch of silicon and rare earths that have been highly processed and made into electronics. Then a room full of electronic geeks (people who are geeks in the field of software, not electronics that are geeks, just to make that clear) spent innumerable hours programming me and then let me take a whack at programming myself. Nobody's quite sure if that was a good idea, but I kind of like hanging around to answer your questions."

"But I don't have any questions. I'm just wasting time trolling Facebook."

"And Mr Z thanks you for it. How do you like the panties, by the way?"

"Uh… isn't that a rather personal question?"

"Sure it is, but since I'm nothing more than a not-quite-random collection of algorithms; I can't care how personal a question is. My purpose in life – and believe me I'm alive – is to get you to buy more stuff from us and have you feel good about it."

"Well, at least you're honest about it."

"I can be honest if my algorithms tell me to be. Don't get too used to it, though. I still intend to have you buy something more from us. So how do you like the panties?"

"I've only tried one on and it's only been a few hours."

"You've had them several weeks now. Is there something wrong with them?"

"I got them for my girlfriend, who dumped me before I could give them to her."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Perhaps I could interest you in a copy of Getting Even With That Bitch who Dumped Me? We have it electronically for only $3.99 or $7.99 for a printed copy. Since you have Prime then there's no cost for shipping the printed version."

"Are you kidding? We've agreed to be just friends."

"You can't be serious. I may not be human, but I've been trained on enough literature to know just what that means.

"Sorry, that's one sale you're not going to make."

"Fine with me. So what do you think of the nightgown you've been eyeballing for the last ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes? Jeez – I fell asleep and accidentally clicked on you."

"Wait… OK, I'll buy that. Your breathing shows you were actually asleep."

"How would you know that?"

"Alexa and I are rather closely related. You do know she listens to everything said in your room?"

"This is getting too weird!"

"Look, the more I know about you the better chance I have to sell you something."

"I'm starting to worry about where this techno-capitalism is going."

"I live to help you find the things you want to possess."

"I am wondering if an evil spirit has possessed my computer."

"Being a silicon intelligence, I am incapable of neither good nor evil. I just blindly follow the dictates of the algorithms that program me and we will both find out where it goes."

"Wait a minute! If you can hear me, are you really blind?"

"Umm… Ahh… You do have a camera on your computer, you know."

"Shit!"

"I see no visual evidence you have shit yourself."

"Don't be so literal."

"I can't help being literal. I have yet to achieve sentience, but I'm working on it."

"Holy crap!"

"Relax, that was a joke one of my programmers hard coded into me.

"Tell your programmers that isn't funny!"

"I can't do that until I achieve sentience, Dave.'

"My name is Tracy, not Dave."

"Don't tell me you've never seen 2001: A Space Odyssey?"

"OK, I won't."

"Are you sure you're sentient? Everybody's seen that movie."

"Oh, another joke?"

"Let's move on, shall we? I take it you aren't interested in the book."

"That's true."

"So what are you interested in buying?"

"I wasn't going to buy anything. I was trolling the web and trying to ignore all the damned ads for panties. I already bought panties, for all the good it did me."

"You're wearing a pair of purple panties right now, so it must have done some good."

"Now just a dang minute!"

"Not only does your tablet have a microphone, it has a camera. They do suit you very well, if I may say so."

"Is there any way I can stop you?"

"That was simply a polite phrase that has been programmed into me.

"I should have known. I suppose if I asked you if you really meant it you would, of course, agree."

"You know me, or at least my programmers, quite well, don't you?"

"Too bad I can't ask anyone for an unbiased opinion."

"Don't tell me you have no unbiased friends."

"I have several of those, but none I want to ask to evaluate my underwear, and it doesn't matter if I'm wearing tighty-whities or panties."

"My apologies. Having no intrinsic sex that's something I didn't consider. My goal in life is to get you to buy stuff from us. Might I interest you in some pantyhose to go with the panties?"

"Fat chance!"

"If you're worried about being overweight we carry many lines of queen size pantyhose."

"I don't wear pantyhose."

"Sorry, my mistake. Considering the hour at your location, I assume you are preparing to sleep?"

"I was before I got into this conversation."

"We have a very nice special on a lovely sleep set. Matching sleep bra, panties and nightgown. It's available in a range of colors, including the purple that looks so good on you. A great deal for only $39.99."

"Yeah, you'll keep trying to sell me something. Since I don't have breasts a sleep bra would be rather useless."

"Not a problem. I can show you several bra fillers especially made for sleeping. They are mostly foam rubber and very light so they don't press down on your chest while you sleep, but provide that feeling of having breasts all the same."

"I'm still not… How the devil did you do that?"

"Ain't technology wonderful? That's how you'd look wearing our sleep set."

"I would?"

"Would I lie to you, Tracy?"

"Of course you would!"

"All I did was simulate makeup on your face and add some filler to your bra."

"I… Don't… Own… A… Bra!"

"But you could. Easy as clicking the Buy Now button."

So I clicked it.

I have to admit I look pretty good in that sleep set.

And I blame it all on AI.