AI generated story.

I gave AI the plot and this is what it wrote! Better prose than me! I got it to do some pictures as well.

********

I stepped out of the transfer van in my best navy suit, feeling like a proper English businessman in the south of France. It was early June, so the air was warm and thick with the scent of jasmine. The hotel grounds were gorgeous – all rolling lawns and palm trees – and Armelle, my French colleague, was even prettier than her email photo had suggested. “It’s very… verdant,” I managed to say, and she gave me this warm laugh that made my ears burn.

“Verdant? We say vert here,” she grinned, leading me to the main dining room. We sat and conversed.





That’s where it all went wrong. The food was like nothing I’d ever seen – first some slimy thing in a shell that made me gag, then meat that looked like it was still twitching, and vegetables that tasted of damp earth. I didn’t want to be rude, so I forced every mouthful down and washed it down with glass after glass of red wine. The last thing I remember is Armelle topping me up and saying something about “the journey back to your room”.

I woke up with my head throbbing and the strangest feeling on my skin. When I flicked on the lamp, I nearly fell off the bed. I was completely in the nude.

My clothes were folded perfectly on the armchair, and there was a little note propped up by the lamp: “Sleep Tight – Armelle x”

I buried my face in the pillows and wanted to die. She’d undressed me! And the worst part is… well, I’ve always been a bit… well-endowed. To put it bluntly I’m embarrassed about the size of my cock. I’ve never even been comfortable in swimming trunks, let alone having a beautiful French woman see it, and for all I knew photograph it. I was kidding myself. I knew Armelle. She wouldn’t have missed the opportunity. She’d definitely have photographed it.





She’ll be telling the whole office by Monday,” I groaned, swinging my legs out of bed. My stomach did a horrible lurch – between the weird food and too much wine, I felt like I’d swallowed a cement mixer.

I needed air. I crept out onto the patio, pulling the glass door shut behind me so the air con wouldn’t switch off – I had to keep the room cool on that hot humid night. The warm night air on my skin was amazing… until I tried to push the door back open.

Click. Locked solid. I was locked out of my room completely in the nude.


%


Right. Stay calm. There was no one around – it must have been three in the morning. I just needed to make a quick dash to reception, stick to the trees at the edge of the grounds, and no one would be any the wiser.

I set off, tiptoeing through the darkness like a naked ninja. First step – I tripped over a root and face-planted into a thorn bush, leaving scratches all down my unprotected cock and a big leaf stuck in my hair. Second step – I slipped in mud and coated my left leg up to my balls. By the time I’d fought my way through the undergrowth, I looked like I’d been in a fight with a badger. And I was still completely bare.





The warm light from the main building was like a lifeline. I peered through the glass doors and my heart sank. No gruff old night porter – just a young woman with bright brown eyes and a neat red uniform, typing away at her computer. A little name badge announcing her as Nathalie.

I took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stood there frozen. I immediately cupped my hands to try and hide my cock. My face so red it felt on fire .

“Bonsoir!” She looked up, her eyes flicked over me for half a second, then her lips pressed together like she was trying not to smile. “How can I help you?”







“I… I… locked… out,” I stammered, my voice coming out as a squeak. “Room 24B… patio door… and I’m… I’m naked…”

She nodded seriously, though her shoulders were shaking a little. “I understand. Do you have your ID with you?”

“ID? I’ve got nothing on!” I almost shouted, and in my panic I moved my hands for just a second before clamping them back in place. Her eyes darted down, then straight back to my face – she didn’t say a word about it, but I could see she was fighting a laugh.

“Then we need someone to confirm who you are. Do you know anyone else here?”

“Armelle,” I mumbled, slumping against the desk. “Only Armelle Dubois.”

She looked up Armelle’s room number, picked up the phone and chattered away in French so fast I couldn’t follow a single word. Five minutes later, Armelle appeared in a semi-transparent shorty pink nightie, her hair all messy and adorable. When she saw me, she put her hand over her mouth – then started talking to the receptionist, Nathalie, and they both giggled quietly. They’d glance at me every so often, but never stared, never mentioned I was bare as the day I was born.





“How are you?” Armelle asked, her eyes sparkling as she looked at my scratched-up body. “You look like you’ve been wrestling a tree.”

“Tried to take a shortcut,” I mumbled – then idiot that I am – I gestured with my hands to explain the route. Both girls glanced down at once, and I yelped, clamping my hands back where they needed to be.

“Ooh La La!” cried Armelle, “you’ve scratched your… oh dear… how you call it in English… your willy… what a funny word… willy! I am first aider. Let me look.”

Burning with embarrassment I took my hands away and let Armelle see.

“It needs antiseptic. Monique, fetch the first aid kit.”

Monique fetched the box and Armelle sprayed the antiseptic on my cock. I yelped as it stung and I put my hands back over it.

“Don’t be such a baby,” admonished Armelle, “you Englishmen and your willies, you think we French girls haven’t seen a willy before!”

I took my hands away.

“That is better. He has a willy to be proud of does he not, Monique?”

“Oh yes,” said Monique, “oh yes.”

Then ludicrously we made stilted small talk for about twenty minutes – me babbling about the weather, them politely nodding while clearly holding back laughter – when the glass doors swung open again.

In walked three girls in swim suits.

“Er… good morning,” the first spluttered, turning to Monique. “We were wondering if the pool is open yet – we like to get an early start…”

Monique stood up immediately, her voice perfectly calm. “Bien sûr, – it opens at six, but I can get you a key now if you’d like.” She kept her back to me as she spoke, clearly trying to block their view.

I was rooted to the spot, my hands clamped so tight over my cock, I thought I’d lose circulation.


H

“I… I’ll just… stand over here,” I mumbled, shuffling behind a large potted plant. Only my head and one muddy leg were visible, but I still felt like every eye in the building was on me. The couple collected their key and scurried out, the woman giving me one last curious look as they left.

“I’m so sorry,” I gasped to Monique and Armelle. “This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Armelle just patted my arm gently. “Ce n’est rien – these things happen. Though I must say, you’ve picked quite a way to start your trip.”

As we waited, the sky outside began to lighten – June mornings come fast in the south of France. By half past five, there was a soft glow through the windows, and soon other guests started appearing. A family with two young children walked past – I ducked behind the potted plant so fast I nearly knocked it over. A group of cyclists in tight lycra stopped to ask about bike storage, and I had to press myself flat against the wall, my face burning so hot I thought I’d pass out.

Every time I relaxed my hands for a second, I’d catch someone glancing, and I’d clamp them back in place so hard it hurt. I tried to make conversation – babbling about how green the countryside was, how warm it was for June, how nice the hotel was – all while standing there completely naked, covered in scratches and mud.

Finally, at six fifteen, a young housekeeper called Marie arrived with a key. She took one look at me, bit her lip, then nodded professionally. “Shall we head to your room now, sir?”

The four of us set off across the grounds – by now it was full daylight, and other guests were starting to gather by the pool or head to the breakfast room. I walked with my head down, hands firmly in place, trying to hide behind the three women. Every time someone looked our way, I wanted to vanish into thin air.

“Look – there’s the path to your block,” Nathalie said, pointing ahead. And that’s when I saw it.

The front door of my room was wide open, swinging gently in the warm morning breeze.

I just stared. I know I closed it. I swear I did.

In that moment, all three girls collapsed into hysterics – laughing so hard they had to hold onto each other, tears streaming down their faces. A group of guests by the pool turned to look, smiling curiously at the scene.

“Mon Dieu!” Armelle gasped, wiping her eyes. “You locked yourself out of the patio… but left the front door wide open!”

I stood there – naked, scratched, covered in mud – as the sun rose higher and more guests started to notice us. And after a second, I started laughing too. I couldn’t help it.



“Smile,” said Armelle, “holding up her mobile phone to take a picture, “the girls at the office are going to love this.”