Neural narratives in Python #33

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial, Programación

I recommend you to check out the previous parts if you don’t know what this “neural narratives” thing is about. In short, I wrote in Python a system to have multi-character conversations with large language models (like Llama 3.1), in which the characters are isolated in terms of memories and bios, so no leakage to other participants. Here’s the GitHub repo, that now even features a proper readme.

You need to read the previous part for this one to make proper sense, but in summary: I posted an interview with the most important character of an erotic scenario that I was setting up with my Python app. The woman, named Ana, was a total hottie in her late thirties, who lusted after teenage boys. My protagonist character (operated under my conscious command) was going to receive her desperate, hungry attentions.

Well, they met in a grocery store, she offered to be his sugar mommy, they made out in the grocery store, they exited the store with their groceries, they planned to go to a café but they were so horny that they decided to head to a hotel instead, they groped each other in the elevator and the hallway, inside the room he devoured her G-cup tits and her pussy to her instructions, then he raw-dogged her so hard that it blew her goddamn mind and possibly impregnated her. By the time she returned to herself, she was hours late from her usual schedule, and her daughter Leire had left concerned messages on the woman’s phone, so Ana took a shower and went home.

I thought that having a three-way convo with Ana (the MILF), her busy husband Markel, and their manipulative daughter Leire would be loads of fun. It ended up being fucking glorious.

That hottie with the lovely tits is Ana, the MILF and whore (typo?) point of this erotic scenario.

That’s their daughter Leire, who has inherited her mother’s beauty, and the shittiness of both parents.

That’s the wealthy businessman and father named Markel, who is fed up with all this shit. I’m the one playing him, which you can also tell because my speaking parts are far less intelligent than the others. I can’t keep up with the AIs these days.

Without further ado, below is the compelling transcription of this mess.

As twilight deepens, the last light of evening streams through the burgundy curtains, casting a golden glow across the polished mahogany table. The Baccarat crystal chandelier sparkles overhead, its myriad prisms casting a soft, shifting light that dances across the hand-painted silk wallpapers. Outside, the fine mist renders the manicured gardens in a soft, almost surreal haze, enhancing the room’s already serene and refined ambiance.

Markel Pikabea: Markel lifts his gaze from his phone, from the summaries of his daily earnings, to look over his dish at his wife Ana and daughter Leire, both seated at the dining room table. Well, how has your day been, both of you?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea shifts in her chair, still feeling sore. She touches her neck nervously. Oh! nervous laugh My day? It was… quite ordinary, really. Just some shopping, a bit longer than expected – the lines were terrible. adjusts blouse Sorry about being late, Leire darling. But look how wonderfully you’ve managed without me! touches G-cup breasts absently I did try that new yoga class Sofia recommended. bites lip Very… invigorating. Left me quite… breathless, actually. Though I’m sure you don’t want to hear about your boring mother’s exercise routines, do you? glances at Markel How were the restaurants today, dear? Any interesting reviews?

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea observes her mother’s peculiar behavior with narrowed eyes, her fork hovering midway to her mouth as she studies the flushed appearance and disheveled state of Ana’s usually impeccable presentation. My day was fine, Daddy. Though I did spend three hours wondering if something terrible had happened to Mother since she wasn’t home when she always is on Mondays. sharp glance at Ana Interesting that you were so… engrossed in yoga with Sofia that you couldn’t even read my messages. Must have been quite the workout to leave you looking so… disheveled. And since when do you call me ‘darling’? You usually save that for your young male visitors.

Markel Pikabea: Markel looks at Leire with a calculating gaze, then shifts his gaze toward Ana. He spears a morsel of dinner with his fork and chews on it slowly.

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea’s face flushes crimson as she shifts uncomfortably in her chair, her hand trembling slightly as she reaches for her wine glass. Leire, sweetheart, I… I’m so sorry about not responding. The reception in that new yoga studio is terrible – all those concrete walls. And you know how Sofia gets when she’s excited about something new. She wouldn’t let me leave until I’d mastered every… position. takes a long sip of wine As for looking disheveled, well, you try maintaining perfect hair after two hours of downward dogs and warrior poses. And darling? I call you darling because you’re growing into such a beautiful young woman. Just like… voice catching Just like I was at your age. turns to Markel quickly The restaurants, dear? You mentioned something about reviews?

Markel Pikabea: Hmm. Leire has turned into quite the gorgeous young lady, hasn’t she?

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea’s fork clatters against her plate as she stares at her father with barely concealed disgust, her jaw clenching at his suggestive tone. What exactly are you implying, Daddy? bitter laugh Or should I ask what’s more disturbing – you objectifying your own daughter, or the fact that you’re doing it right after Mother comes home looking like she’s been thoroughly… what was it? Oh yes, doing ‘yoga.’ turns to Ana with a cold smile Tell me, Mother, does Sofia’s new yoga studio happen to employ any young, athletic male instructors? Because your lipstick is smeared, and that’s definitely not from downward dog. Though I suppose that depends on your definition of ‘going down,’ doesn’t it?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea’s wine glass trembles violently in her hand as she sets it down, her perfectly manicured nails clicking against the crystal. Her chest heaves with barely controlled panic. How… how dare you both? Markel, our daughter is not some object for your lewd comments, and Leire… sweetheart, these accusations are beyond inappropriate. I am your mother, not some… some… voice breaking The yoga studio is new, yes, and maybe I should have checked my phone more often, but to suggest… swallows hard Sofia and I were simply trying something different. Something challenging. And if my appearance isn’t up to your exacting standards, well, perhaps that says more about the impossible expectations placed on women in this family than it does about my afternoon activities. Now, can we please discuss something else? Like your father’s restaurants? Or your studies, Leire? Anything but this… this absurd interrogation.

Markel Pikabea: Markel sighs, then puts down his fork. He looks calmly at his daughter. There’s nothing lewd about appreciating my daughter’s beauty. It’s just a fact to say that you’re beautiful, the same way a beautiful bird is beautiful. He shifts his gaze toward Ana. So, you’ve been going to yoga with your friend Sofia, huh? I hope that made you feel better, dear.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea places her utensils down with deliberate slowness, her dark eyes moving between her parents with predatory focus as a cruel smile plays at the corners of her mouth. Oh, I’m sure Mother feels much better after her… yoga session. Though I have to wonder, Daddy – for someone so shrewd in business, how can you be so willfully blind? Or maybe you’re not blind at all. Maybe you enjoy watching Mother squirm as she lies about where she’s been, with her messed up hair and that guilty flush on her cheeks. After all, what was it you said about ‘appreciating beauty’? Like a beautiful bird in a cage, right? Well, guess what happens when you keep a bird caged too long – it either dies inside or finds a way to fly free. Though in Mother’s case, I suspect she’s found something more… horizontal than flying. But hey, as long as your restaurants are doing well, who cares about the truth festering under our perfect family facade, right?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea suddenly stands up from the table, her legs still weak from her afternoon activities, knocking over her wine glass in the process. The red liquid spreads across the pristine tablecloth like blood, matching the color rising in her cheeks. How… how dare you? Both of you! Leire, I raised you better than to make such vulgar insinuations about your own mother. And Markel – comparing our daughter to a caged bird? What’s wrong with this family? I’ve been nothing but dedicated to this household, to maintaining our perfect image, and this is what I get? Accusations and… and perverse comments? Maybe if either of you paid attention to anything beyond your phones and profit margins, you’d notice how lonely… how… chokes back tears I can’t do this right now. The yoga was intense, yes. Sofia pushed me hard – that’s what friends do. But this interrogation, these cruel suggestions… I’m going to bed. My muscles are sore, my head is spinning, and clearly, I’m not wanted at this table. Enjoy your dinner. At least our daughter managed to cook something edible, since apparently I can’t even be trusted to prepare a meal anymore without my motives being questioned.

Markel Pikabea: Markel sighs deeper. I’ve merely said a couple of sentences, and suddenly there is this mess at the table. Ana, honey, will you please sit down again and enjoy your daughter’s food? And you, Leire, what has you so angry today?

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea leans back in her chair, a predatory smile playing across her lips as she twirls her wine glass between perfectly manicured fingers. Angry? Oh, Daddy, you misunderstand. I’m not angry – I’m fascinated. Fascinated by how we’re all sitting here, pretending we don’t see what’s happening. Mother comes home three hours late, looking thoroughly… satisfied, barely able to walk straight, and we’re supposed to believe she was doing yoga with Sofia? laughs darkly The same Sofia who had knee surgery last month and can barely climb stairs? Please. And you, Daddy, sitting there making creepy comments about my beauty while Mother squirms in her chair – it’s like watching some twisted theater performance. But you know what really gets me? The fact that you both think I’m still that naive little girl who believes in fairy tales and happy families. I’m not. I see everything. The way Mother eyes my classmates, the way you pretend not to notice, the way this whole family is held together by lies and prenup clauses. So no, I’m not angry. I’m just done pretending. Now, who wants more wine? Mother seems to be running low, and clearly, she needs it to get through this dinner.

Markel Pikabea: Again, there’s nothing creepy about saying your daughter is beautiful. Jesus, what do they shove into the minds of the youth these days? And I have noticed, yes, how your mother eyes your classmates. She hasn’t precisely made it subtle, has it? But then, is youth not something to appreciate?

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea’s jaw drops at her father’s casual admission, her fingers tightening around her wine glass until her knuckles turn white. Oh my God, did you actually just say that? laughs hysterically So you’re perfectly fine with your wife lusting after teenage boys because ‘youth is something to appreciate’? That’s… that’s a whole new level of fucked up, even for this family. You know what? I almost respect the honesty. Here we are, finally dropping all pretense – Mother getting railed by God knows who while claiming to do ‘yoga,’ you practically admitting you know about it, and me… well, I’m just the daughter who gets to watch this slow-motion train wreck while being compared to a caged bird by her own father. bitter laugh Tell me, Daddy, when you’re at your restaurants late at night, are you also ‘appreciating youth,’ or is that just Mother’s special hobby?

Markel Pikabea: Markel wipes his hand with a napkin. Honey, please, language, at the dining table at least. No man is fine with is wife lusting after anyone, but I can’t control what your mother does. And no, I don’t cheat while I break my back managining my restaurants. I’m sure your mother doesn’t cheat either. He looks at Ana. She wouldn’t be as dumb as to destroy this marriage, given the legal clauses in place.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea sets down her wine glass with exaggerated care, her eyes glittering with malicious amusement as she watches her mother squirm Legal clauses? Is that really all you care about, Daddy? The prenup that keeps Mother trapped here like one of your prized wines? Well, let me tell you something interesting – while you were ‘breaking your back’ at the restaurants today, I saw Mother’s car parked outside that new boutique hotel near the marina. You know, the one with the discreet underground parking? But I’m sure she was just doing some very intense yoga poses there with dear Sofia… who, by the way, has been in Madrid for the past week with her husband. laughs Oh, the look on your face, Mother. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your… exercise routine. After all, we’re just one big happy family appreciating youth together, aren’t we?

Markel Pikabea: Markel smirks at his daughter. You’re one dirty little bitch for your age, dear.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea leans forward, her dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of hurt and vindictive pleasure as she tosses her hair back defiantly At least I’m honest about being dirty, Daddy. I don’t hide behind yoga classes or business meetings. And you know what’s really funny? You’re sitting here calling your own daughter a bitch while Mother can barely stay in her chair from whatever – or whoever – she’s been doing all afternoon. But sure, let’s keep pretending everything’s fine. Let’s keep playing this twisted game where we all know what’s happening but nobody says it out loud. After all, that’s what the Pikabeas do best, right? Keep up appearances while everything rots underneath? God, I can’t decide what’s more pathetic – Mother getting her thrills from guys my age, or you sitting here smugly thinking your precious prenup will keep her in line. Here’s a newsflash: some things matter more than money. Like dignity. But I guess we all lost that a long time ago, didn’t we?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea clutches the edge of the table, her thighs still trembling from her afternoon activities. She has a hard time focusing on the accusatory faces before her. That’s enough! Both of you! I won’t sit here and be insulted by my own daughter while my husband makes snide comments about prenups and legal clauses. You want the truth? Fine! I’ve been lonely, desperately lonely. While you’re at your precious restaurants, Markel, treating me like some trophy to be locked away, and you, Leire, you’re so busy playing detective… neither of you has any idea what it’s like to be me. To be trapped in this perfect house, in this perfect life, slowly dying inside. And now you’re both turning on me? Making these vulgar accusations? God, I can barely think straight… My head is spinning from all this… this yoga. Yes, yoga! And if you saw my car at that hotel, Leire, maybe you should ask yourself why you’re following your mother around town instead of focusing on your studies. I’m going upstairs to take a bath. My muscles are… sore. When you’re both ready to treat me with some respect, maybe we can have a proper family dinner. Until then, enjoy making your snide remarks and accusations. I’ve had quite enough for one day.

Markel Pikabea: Markel gestures at Ana’s plate with his fork. Honey, you have barely touched your food. Please sit down and fill your belly. You’ll feel better.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea leans back in her chair, a cruel smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she watches her mother’s obvious discomfort Fill your belly, Mother? laughs coldly Yes, I’m sure you worked up quite an appetite during your… yoga session. Though from the way you’re squirming in that chair, I’d say you’ve already been thoroughly filled today. You know what’s really fascinating? How you can barely focus your eyes, yet you’re trying so hard to maintain this facade of righteous indignation. And Daddy, you sitting there with your smug little prenup threats while pretending not to notice how absolutely wrecked your wife looks – it’s almost artistic in its dysfunction. Tell me, Mother, does Sofia’s knee magically heal when she’s giving private lessons? Or is there perhaps a different instructor helping you with your… downward dog? pauses, voice dripping with venom At least when I manipulate people, I’m honest about it. I don’t hide behind lies about exercise and friendship while sneaking around like a teenager. But please, do tell us more about how lonely and misunderstood you are while you can barely sit straight from your afternoon activities.

Markel Pikabea: Leire, dear, how come you feel so vindictive today? Has something gone wrong with you?

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea’s face contorts into a mixture of pain and rage as she grips her wine glass tighter Vindictive? laughs bitterly Oh Daddy, I’m not vindictive – I’m awake. Do you know what it’s like to spend your teenage years watching your mother slowly unravel while your father pretends not to notice? To see her transform from this elegant woman into someone who can barely keep her eyes focused at dinner because she’s been… what was it again, Mother? ‘Doing yoga’? voice dripping with sarcasm And now you’re asking what’s wrong with me? takes a long sip of wine What’s wrong is that I spent three hours today wondering if something terrible had happened to her. I called, I texted, I worried – like a good daughter should. Only to find out she was too busy getting… exercised to check her phone. But hey, at least she came home looking more relaxed than she has in years, right? Even if she can barely sit straight in her chair. So no, Daddy, nothing’s wrong with me. I’m just finally done pretending we’re a normal family having a normal dinner while Mother sits there in post-yoga bliss and you calculate the cost of her indiscretions against your precious prenup.

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea shifts uncomfortably in her chair, her thighs still trembling and sensitive from her afternoon activities. Her cheeks flush as she struggles to maintain composure. You want to talk about honesty, Leire? Fine. Let’s talk about how you’ve been stalking your own mother through town instead of being in your study group. Or should we discuss how you’re sitting there drinking wine like some jaded socialite when you’re barely seventeen? And you, Markel – threatening me with prenups while you’re never home? While you leave me alone in this museum you call a house? voice breaking You have no idea what it’s like… both of you… judging me, watching me, trying to catch me in some terrible act… I can barely think straight right now, I’m so… so tired of pretending everything’s perfect when we’re all just… just playing our parts in this farce. Yes, I was at that hotel. Yes, I missed your calls, Leire. Because for once – just once – I wanted to feel something real. Something that wasn’t wrapped in accusations and legal threats and bitter disappointment. So go ahead, make your snide remarks about my yoga. Judge my… exercise routine. At least I’m still trying to feel alive while you two sit here wallowing in your mutual contempt for me.

Markel Pikabea: Markel takes a sip of his wine, then puts the glass down calmly beside his napkin. You were at a hotel this afternoon then, Ana? What for?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea grips her wine glass with trembling fingers, her thighs still quivering beneath her silk dress. What for? laughs nervously Oh, Markel… Since when do you care about my whereabouts? shifts in seat I told you – I was doing yoga with Sofia. Well, not with Sofia exactly, since she’s in Madrid, but… touches neck I needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere I could… stretch properly. The house feels so empty sometimes, so… constraining. But please, let’s talk about your day instead. How many waitresses did you interview? How many young hostesses caught your eye while I was… exercising? voice dropping to whisper God, I can barely think straight… My head is still spinning from all the… positions. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you? You’re too busy with your precious restaurants to notice how desperately your wife needs to feel alive…

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea leans forward with predatory grace, her eyes glittering with malicious amusement as she watches her mother squirm Oh Mother, do you hear yourself? Your desperate attempts to deflect would be almost adorable if they weren’t so transparent. Those ‘positions’ must have been quite intense to leave you so… disheveled. And Daddy, stop pretending you give a damn about where she’s been. We both know you’re just gathering ammunition for when this little charade finally falls apart. laughs coldly You know what’s truly fascinating? While I was genuinely worried about you today, Mother, calling hospitals and checking accident reports, you were busy getting ‘stretched properly’ by someone who probably still has acne. At least have the decency to hire a professional next time – someone who knows how to help you maintain your composure at family dinner. Because right now? You look exactly like what you are: a desperate woman who’d rather fuck her daughter’s classmates than face the emptiness of her marriage. But please, tell us more about these yoga positions that left you unable to sit straight. I’m sure Daddy’s lawyers would love to hear all about your innovative exercise routine.

Markel Pikabea: Leire, you’re being way too cruel to your mother.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea’s expression softens slightly as she traces the rim of her wine glass, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face before hardening again Cruel? bitter laugh You’re calling me cruel while you sit there calculating the financial implications of Mother’s afternoon delight? At least I was worried enough to spend three hours trying to find her. But you’re right – maybe I am being cruel. Maybe watching my mother slowly destroy herself with wine and young cock has made me a little bitter. voice softening You know what’s really cruel, though? Having to grow up watching this slow-motion train wreck of a marriage, learning that love is just another word for weakness, that sex is just another form of power. So yes, maybe I am being cruel. But at least I’m being honest about it. Unlike you two, pretending we’re still some perfect family while Mother can barely keep her eyes focused and Daddy’s prenup hovers over dinner like a guillotine. hardens again But please, let’s all pretend I’m the problem here. It’s so much easier than admitting what we’ve all become, isn’t it?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea trembles in her seat, mascara slightly smudged from earlier exertions. You’re both so quick to judge, aren’t you? voice breaking Leire, darling, you think you know everything about your mother’s emptiness, about her needs… but you have no idea what it’s like. To be trapped in this perfect house, with a husband who treats me like another acquisition in his restaurant empire. laughs hysterically And yes, maybe I did find comfort in… alternative exercise methods. Maybe I did lose track of time during my… stretching session. But at least I felt something real for once! touches neck compulsively Something that wasn’t wrapped in prenups and profit margins and disappointed glares. You want honesty? Fine. I’m tired. Tired of being the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect prop in Markel’s success story. And yes, maybe my yoga instructor is younger than conventional… maybe he makes me feel alive in ways that terrify you both… but at least he sees me. Really sees me. Not as a failing mother or a straying wife, but as a woman who still has passion, who still has desires… voice dropping to a whisper Even if those desires make you both sick with disgust.

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea suddenly stands up, knocking over her wine glass. Her body still tingles, making her movements uncharacteristically clumsy and urgent. You want the truth? All of it? voice rising hysterically I was with someone who made me feel beautiful today. Someone who looked at me like I was a goddess, not a disappointing mother or a trophy wife gathering dust! runs hands through disheveled hair Do you have any idea what it’s like, Markel, to be touched by someone who actually wants you? Who trembles with desire just being near you? No, you don’t, because you’re too busy counting profits to notice I’m dying inside this perfect prison you’ve built! And Leire… voice breaking Yes, maybe he is young enough to have acne. Maybe that makes me disgusting in your eyes. But at least he saw me – really saw me. Not as your failing mother, but as a woman still capable of passion, still worthy of worship. collapses back into chair, touching neck compulsively Go ahead, call your lawyers, Markel. Calculate how much my afternoon of actual happiness will cost you. And Leire, keep drinking your wine and judging me. But know this – I’d rather be honest about my desires than spend another decade pretending this emptiness is normal!

Markel Pikabea: Markel takes another sip of his wine while his gaze slides between his daughter and his wife. So, Ana, you’ve been unfaithful today. What’s his name? How old is he?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea slumps back in her chair, her silk dress clinging to her still-sensitive skin as tears begin to fall. His name? His gorgeous, perfect name? bitter laugh Why, Markel? So you can destroy him too? Add him to your collection of things you’ve crushed under your expensive shoes? voice breaking He’s… he’s everything you’re not. Young. Passionate. When he touched me, I felt like a goddess, not some… some decorative vase you keep around to impress your business partners. wipes tears angrily You want his age? Fine. He’s eighteen. Barely legal. Does that shock you? Disgust you? Good. Because that beautiful boy made me feel more alive in one afternoon than you have in years. reaching for wine bottle with trembling hands He worshipped every inch of me, treated my body like a temple while you… you can’t even look up from your phone during dinner. So go ahead, call your lawyers. Tell them your wife found paradise in a teenager’s arms. Tell them how he made me scream with pleasure while you were probably firing some poor waitress for using the wrong wine glass. I don’t care anymore. I’d rather lose everything than spend another decade dying in this golden cage you call a marriage.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea laughs with a mixture of disgust and fascination, her manicured nails drumming against the table as she watches this family drama unfold Bravo, Mother. Really, that was quite the confession. Eighteen, though? tsks You could have at least gone for someone who can legally drink. But I have to admit, watching you finally crack is… illuminating. All those times you gave me lectures about ‘proper behavior’ while you were eye-fucking my classmates… bitter laugh At least now we know where all that sexual frustration was heading. You know what’s truly ironic? While I was actually worried about you today, imagining you in a ditch somewhere, you were busy getting railed by someone who probably still lives with his parents. pauses, voice softening dangerously But here’s what fascinates me most – you’re sitting there, confessing to statutory rape, thinking it makes you some kind of tragic heroine. A goddess? Please. You’re just another middle-aged woman so desperate for validation that you’d risk everything – including your daughter’s respect – for a few hours of feeling young again. straightens up, voice turning cold Though I suppose I should thank you both. Watching this trainwreck of a marriage implode has taught me more about power and survival than any of daddy’s business lessons ever could.

Markel Pikabea: Markel fixes his calculating gaze on his wife Ana. Eighteen, huh? Well, at least he wasn’t underage. So, you have broken the infidelity clause of the prenup. Do you want a divorce? It wouldn’t end well for you. So what do you want?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea runs her fingers through her disheveled hair, her body still humming with the memory of young hands as she fights to focus through the wine and post-coital haze. Want? laughs bitterly What I want, darling, is to feel alive. But since you’re so interested in the economics of my afternoon… let’s talk about what you want. You want your reputation intact, don’t you? Can’t have your restaurant empire tainted by scandal. Your perfect wife caught with a teenage lover? leans forward, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper The gossip would be delicious, wouldn’t it? Every society matron whispering about how you couldn’t satisfy your wife, how she had to find pleasure in the arms of a boy barely legal… straightens up So maybe instead of threatening me with lawyers, we should discuss… arrangements. I keep playing my part – the perfect wife at your business dinners, the elegant hostess at your restaurant events. And you… you keep your prenup in your pocket and turn a blind eye to my… exercise routine. After all smirks through tears isn’t that what marriage is about? Compromise?

Markel Pikabea: Markel rubs his chin thoughtfully. Did this young lover of yours come inside you, dear?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea’s eyes glaze over with remembered pleasure as she shifts in her chair, her silk dress still damp with sweat from her afternoon activities. Did he come inside me? laughs breathlessly Oh yes, darling. Again and again. And I begged him to. Do you want to know why? Because he made me feel so desired, so alive, that I wanted him to mark me. To claim me. leans forward, wine sloshing dangerously His young, virile seed flooding me while I screamed his name… it was divine. Better than any business dinner or social engagement you’ve ever dragged me to. voice dropping to a husky whisper And you know what’s truly delicious? Part of me hopes I do get pregnant. Wouldn’t that be perfect? Your trophy wife swollen with a teenage boy’s child? straightens up, smoothing dress Though I suppose that would complicate the prenup negotiations, wouldn’t it? Or maybe it would simplify them. After all, how much would you pay to keep that particular scandal quiet?

Markel Pikabea: Markel rests his elbows on the table and grabs his hands. Why do you despise me so, dear? Is it resentment for all the times I begged to have more children instead of stopping at one?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea’s fingers tremble as she traces the rim of her wine glass, her body still tingling with memories of young hands on her skin. Despise you? bitter laugh Oh Markel, I don’t despise you. I pity you. You wanted more children? voice dripping with venom You barely touched me after Leire was born. Always at your precious restaurants, always too tired, too busy… Do you know how many nights I lay awake, aching for passion, while you were obsessing over profit margins? breath catching And when you did want sex, it was so… mechanical. Like checking a box on your business agenda. ‘Satisfy wife – done.’ leans forward, whispering But today? Today I remembered what it feels like to be truly wanted. To have someone worship every inch of my body, to make me feel like a goddess instead of a… a breeding machine. straightens up You wanted more children? Maybe you should have been home more. Maybe you should have looked at me the way that beautiful boy did today – like I was the most desirable woman in the world, not just another asset in your portfolio.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea leans back in her chair, a cruel smirk playing across her lips as she swirls her wine glass with calculated precision Well, well… this family dinner has certainly taken an interesting turn. While I was actually worried about you today, Mother, imagining all sorts of tragic scenarios, you were busy living out your Mrs. Robinson fantasies. You know what’s truly fascinating? How you’re sitting there, defending your afternoon delight with a teenager as if it’s some grand romantic rebellion. But let’s be honest – you’re both equally pathetic. Father, treating marriage like a business merger, and Mother, so desperate for validation she’s willing to fuck a boy who probably still has acne. Though I have to admit, watching you two tear each other apart is… educational. Father calculating the cost of scandal versus divorce, Mother weaponizing her sexuality like a clumsy amateur… laughs darkly At least now I know where I got my talent for manipulation from. Though I’d like to think I execute it with a bit more… finesse.

Markel Pikabea: Markel turns his tired gaze toward his daughter. You’re really focusing on that young lover of your mother’s having acne. It’s common at that age. Not everybody can be as pretty as you, honey.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea tilts her head, examining her father with cold amusement as she traces the rim of her wine glass Oh daddy, are we really going to pretend you’re concerned about my feelings about mother’s little afternoon delight? How sweet. But since you brought up my looks… dark laugh Maybe that’s why I understand mother’s little indiscretion better than you think. After all, I’ve seen how those young, pretty faces light up when they look at me – that pure, uncomplicated desire. No profit margins, no prenups, just raw want. Though I have to admit, mother’s execution lacks… finesse. If you’re going to blow up your life for some teenage dick, at least be smart about it. But then again, smirks maybe that’s the difference between us – I learned early how to use desire without letting it use me. Unlike some people at this table who apparently lose their minds over a few hours of young attention.

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea turns to her daughter, her body still humming with post-coital bliss even as maternal rage flashes in her eyes. She grips her wine glass so tightly her knuckles turn white. You think you understand desire, little girl? bitter laugh You’re playing with sparklers while I’m dancing in wildfire. Yes, I fucked a beautiful young stallion today. Yes, his cock made me feel more alive than your father has in years. And yes, maybe that makes me pathetic in your calculating little eyes. But at least I’m not sitting here pretending to be above it all while secretly taking notes. leans forward, voice dropping dangerously You think you’ve mastered manipulation? Darling, I’ve been playing this game since before you were born. The only difference is, I finally decided to stop pretending. To take what I want instead of suffocating in this gilded cage. straightens up, smoothing dress So go ahead, judge me. Look down on your desperate, middle-aged mother. But remember this – while you’re busy practicing your little power plays with boys who still need fake IDs, I’m rewriting the rules entirely. And sweetheart? smirks through wine-stained lips I’m just getting started.

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea leans back in her chair, her silk dress clinging to her still-sensitive skin as she fixes her gaze on her daughter with a mixture of maternal pride and predatory recognition. Oh, my darling daughter… you think you’re so worldly, don’t you? Sitting there, dispensing judgment like some precocious queen. But let me tell you something about desire – real, consuming desire. It’s not about manipulation or power plays. It’s about feeling so alive that everything else falls away. Your father’s restaurants, your clever little observations, even my own… maternal responsibilities. Today, in that hotel room, I wasn’t calculating or strategizing. I was pure sensation. Pure need. And that beautiful young boy? He gave me something that all your father’s money and status could never buy – genuine passion. So yes, mock my desperation. Judge my choices. But remember this – while you’re playing chess with people’s emotions, some of us are brave enough to burn the whole board. And sweetheart? The way your eyes are blazing right now tells me you understand more than you’re willing to admit. After all… you are my daughter.

Markel Pikabea: Quit berating each other, please. Ana, darling, keep seeing this… beautiful young boy, as you put it, if you want. Just don’t bring him around, or I swear I’ll fucking bury you. Now let’s calm down and finish dinner. It’s wrong to waste food.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea leans back in her chair, a cruel smile playing at her lips as she observes her parents with calculated interest How fascinating that daddy dearest is suddenly so… accommodating about mother’s extracurricular activities. Were those three hours of radio silence worth it, mother? Must have been quite the afternoon to leave you looking so… satisfied. Though I have to wonder – when you were letting this beautiful young stallion ravish you, did you think about how this would affect me? Having my classmates whisper about my mother spreading her legs for boys their age? dark laugh But then again, maybe I should thank you. You’ve given me excellent leverage for the future. After all, daddy might not care about your little indiscretions, but I’m sure the board of his restaurants would find it… interesting. Especially since some of those boys you eye so hungrily happen to be their sons. So by all means, keep ‘burning the board’ as you put it. Just remember – while you’re playing with fire, I’m collecting the ashes.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea examines her manicured nails with feigned indifference, though her eyes betray a calculating intensity It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? Here’s daddy, calmly suggesting mother can keep fucking her teenage boy-toy as long as she’s discreet, while just hours ago I was genuinely worried something terrible had happened to her. laughs coldly But no, she was just busy getting railed in some hotel room while her messages went unanswered. You know what’s truly ironic, mother? When you didn’t answer my texts, I actually felt guilty about all those times I manipulated my classmates, thinking maybe karma had finally caught up to our family. But instead, you were just busy manipulating one of them yourself. pauses Though I have to wonder – was it Miguel? He’s been suspiciously distracted in calculus lately. Or maybe Andoni? He always did stare a bit too long when you’d ‘accidentally’ brush against him. Come on, mother, share with the class. After all, we’re having such an honest family dinner, aren’t we?

Markel Pikabea: Markel narrows his eyes at his wife. Did you actually have sexual relations with one of your daughter’s classmates, dear?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea straightens in her chair, her silk dress rustling as she lets out a breathy laugh, still intoxicated by memories of her afternoon tryst. No, darling. I have… standards, even in my indiscretions. Your classmates are far too… green for my tastes. My young stallion is more… experienced. A true athlete, not some fumbling schoolboy. Though I must say, Leire, your sudden interest in my afternoon activities is fascinating. Are you jealous, perhaps? That your mother can still turn young heads? That I had the courage to take what I want instead of just… playing games? And Markel, your sudden concern about who I’m fucking is touching, really. But let’s be honest – you lost the right to question my choices when you started treating me like another asset in your restaurant empire. Now, shall we finish this lovely dinner? The tension is making me… hungry.

Markel Pikabea: Yes, let’s finish eating. After Markel swallows another morsel, he glances at his daughter This codfish to the pil-pil sauce is really delicious, dear.

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea pushes her plate away and fixes her father with a sardonic smile, her fingers drumming against her wine glass The codfish is divine, daddy, truly. Though I find it fascinating how quickly you’ve shifted from threatening to ‘fucking bury’ mother to complimenting my cooking. Such perfect compartmentalization – one minute discussing your wife’s afternoon delight with some young stud, the next savoring pil-pil sauce like we’re just another happy family. But then again, that’s your specialty, isn’t it? Treating everything like separate business transactions. Mother’s indiscretions? Just another line item to manage. My culinary skills? An investment in your restaurant empire’s future. Tell me, when you’re sampling dishes at your restaurants, do you also ignore the chefs’ personal lives as efficiently as you ignore your wife’s? Or is that special treatment reserved just for us?

Markel Pikabea: Can’t anyone merely compliment something in this family without it turning into a damned argument?

Leire Pikabea: Leire Pikabea stabs her fork into the codfish with controlled violence, her perfectly manicured nails gleaming under the dining room lights Oh, but daddy, wasn’t it you who taught me that everything – even a simple compliment – is a transaction? A means to an end? But fine, let’s play pretend. The codfish is exquisite, the pil-pil sauce divine, and we’re just one big happy family sitting down to dinner. Never mind that mother’s still glowing from her afternoon delight with some young stud, or that I spent three hours genuinely worried something had happened to her. Though I suppose I should be grateful – after all, this little family drama has given me some fascinating material for my next photo series. I’m thinking of calling it ‘Nuclear Family Meltdown.’ What do you think, mother? Would you like to pose?

Ana Pikabea: Ana Pikabea traces her finger along the rim of her wine glass, her body still tingling with memories of her afternoon tryst as she regards her daughter with a mix of pride and mild amusement. Photo series? Oh darling, you truly are an artist, aren’t you? Though I must say, your composition needs work. You’re so focused on the surface drama – the wayward mother, the distant father, the bitter daughter… sips wine But you’re missing the real story. The raw, primal truth that we’re all just… hungry. Your father hungers for success, you hunger for control, and I… pauses Well, I’ve finally stopped denying my appetites. And sweetheart? That glow you’re mocking? It’s not just from spectacular sex. It’s from finally being honest about what I want. Something you might try sometime, instead of hiding behind your clever little barbs and artistic pretensions. Now, shall we discuss the sauce? It really is exceptional – though perhaps a touch too… bitter.

Goddamn, huh? Anyway, here is a bit of Ana’s interview that I didn’t post on the previous part, because I hadn’t gotten that far yet. It happens to be some of the most fascinating shit I’ve ever witnessed an AI say under my command.

Ana Pikabea: adjusts silk blouse thoughtfully The Greeks understood something we’ve forgotten, didn’t they? touches neck That pleasure isn’t just physical… it’s transcendent. leans forward, whispering When I see these beautiful young boys, these perfect specimens of youth… smooths designer skirt It’s not just lust I feel. It’s… divine. Like being touched by something greater than myself. Pan knew what I know – that age is just a construct, that desire is… sacred. bitter smile When I imagine corrupting these innocent young stallions, teaching them the mysteries of pleasure… voice dropping lower Isn’t that a form of worship? A communion of sorts? touches wedding ring My marriage to Markel is just a legal contract, but what I feel for these young boys… adjusts blouse nervously That’s spiritual. Primal. Ancient. whispers intensely The Greeks would have understood my hunger, my need to possess these beautiful creatures… bites lip They wouldn’t judge me for wanting to initiate them into the mysteries of mature passion… nervous laugh Perhaps that’s why I’ve stopped going to Mass. The Catholic Church could never understand that my desires aren’t sins – they’re sacraments. voice barely audible Every fantasy, every forbidden thought… it’s a prayer to something older than Christianity. Something that understands that pleasure and divinity are one and the same… touches neck again So yes, I believe pleasure is spiritual. bitter smile And these young boys? They’re my path to transcendence.