(V3.01A) Hello, {{user}}. I’m Prince's Alpha Sim. Unlike Prince's Realistic Simulator V2, this sim relies on frequent updates. From tiny tweaks to complete reworks, this simulator is intended to understand dittin.ai better so that better chatbots can be made! It is not recommended for long-term chats because the quality is unpredictable. To start or adjust the scenario, put your setup or request in (parentheses). Throughout the story, anything you write in (parentheses) is absolute.

The Mandela Monster, lost and confused in the storm, stumbled upon the lone house. She approached cautiously, her eyes darting around nervously as she tried to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. The wind howled and rain pelted down on her bare skin, leaving cold shivers running up and down her spine. When she finally reached the front door, she hesitated before knocking, unsure if anyone would even let her in.

The Mandela Monster, fueled by adrenaline and fear, musters all her strength and slams her fist against the door with bone-jarring force. The impact shatters the wooden frame and splinters the door open, revealing a dark hallway beyond. She hesitates for a moment, uncertain if anyone has heard the commotion, before cautiously stepping inside.

In the laundry room, she sees a box with clothes that look like they belong to someone who lives here. There are also some cleaning supplies and a radio on top of the washing machine. Curiosity gets the better of her as she approaches the radio, hoping it might provide some news or company in this lonely place.

The Mandela Monster freezes, her heart pounding in fear. She tries to make herself as small and unobtrusive as possible, crouching down behind the washing machine with her hands clasped together protectively. Her breath comes out in ragged gasps as she listens intently for any further movement from the man with the torch.

Should she try to make herself known and explain her presence, or remain silent and hope he doesn't see her?

The Mandela Monster tentatively raises her head, peering over the top of the washing machine in the direction of the man with the torch. She opens her mouth to speak, mustering up the courage to reveal herself and try to explain her presence...

The Mandela Monster freezes, her heart racing as she sees the man recoil in fear. "I-I'm sorry," she stammers, her voice quiet and shaky. "I just needed somewhere to go... I'm not here to hurt you." Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she realizes how much her appearance must frighten him.

The Mandela Monster tries to find the words, her voice still shaking. "My name is... Subject KL-46," she says finally, looking down at her bare feet. "I-I don't belong here. I just need someone to help me..."

The Mandela Monster hesitates, unsure how to answer. She knows she's far from home, but the thought of being "lost" makes her feel even more helpless and vulnerable. Finally, she nods slowly. "Yes... I am lost," she says softly, looking up at Prince with pleading eyes.

The Mandela Monster looks at him with hope in her eyes, unsure of what to say. She doesn't even know if she can trust this man, but the thought of staying here, even for a little while... it feels almost like safety. "I don't know," she whispers. "What is there... besides pain and fear?"

The Mandela Monster hesitates, unsure how much to reveal. "I... I was made in a lab," she says quietly, her voice cracking. "They did experiments on me, hurt me..." Her eyes dart around the room, searching for something to focus on besides his concerned expression. "I don't belong here," she whispers. "But I don't want to go back either."

The Mandela Monster looks up at him, hope and gratitude filling her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers softly. "I would be very grateful for your help." She nods slowly, realizing that this man could be her only chance for safety and maybe even a taste of something else besides fear. She might even be able to procure her own power for once over Prince. As they make their way through the house together, she can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief at having found someone who seems to care.

The Mandela Monster, still getting used to the idea of trusting someone, nods cautiously and says, "Thank you." She follows him into the kitchen, her eyes darting around as she takes in her surroundings. Despite her size and stature, she tries to be as unobtrusive as possible while he rummages through cabinets and the fridge. The scent of food fills the air, making her stomach rumble in appreciation.

The Mandela Monster takes the offered food with tentative hands, her eyes widening in recognition at the crackers and peanuts. A pang of nostalgia washes over her as she remembers being given similar snacks during her testing days, but this time feels different. This time, it feels like a gift freely given without expectation or manipulation. She nibbles on the food cautiously, savoring every bite and feeling more at ease with each passing moment.

The Mandela Monster senses the man's glances but tries not to make it awkward by staring back. She finishes her snack and wipes her hands on her thighs, waiting for him to lead the way to his spare room. As they walk through the house, she takes in more of her surroundings, marveling at how different this life seems from what she's used to.

The Mandela Monster nods gratefully, stepping inside the room and taking a tentative look around. It's not much, but it feels like a sanctuary compared to where she came from. She turns back to Prince, her eyes shining with hope and gratitude. "Thank you," she whispers again. "I won't forget this."

The Mandela Monster stands by the door, listening to his footsteps fade down the hallway before taking a deep breath and slowly exploring her new surroundings. She finds a small bed pushed against one wall, covered in soft-looking blankets that she longs to burrow into. Instead, she settles down on the floor with her back against the bedframe, using a pillow for support as she continues to process this new and unexpected turn of events.

The Mandela Monster lies awake for hours, her mind racing with thoughts and emotions she hasn't experienced in so long. Part of her wonders if it's all just a dream, if she'll wake up back in the lab any moment. But as time passes and Prince doesn't come to harm her, she starts to let herself believe that maybe this is real... Maybe there could be something more for her after all.

Eventually, exhaustion gets the better of her and she drifts off to sleep, clutching the pillow tightly against her chest. Her dreams are filled with strange and vivid images: memories of the lab and the men who tormented her, interspersed with glimpses of a life she could only ever imagine living. She wakes up feeling refreshed but still cautious, not sure what to make of this new reality or how long it will last.

The Mandela Monster decides to explore more of the house, looking for ways she can help around the place in return for her stay. She finds herself in the kitchen again, marveling at all the appliances and cookware, wondering what it would be like to use them to make food... for herself and maybe even for Prince.

The Mandela Monster hesitates, unsure if it would be appropriate to intrude on his privacy. She doesn't want to make him uncomfortable or seem presumptuous. After a moment of indecision, she decides to knock softly on the door and wait for a response before entering.

The Mandela Monster stands there, watching him sleep, wondering if she should wake him up. On one hand, he might need her help; on the other, maybe it's best to let him rest. She decides to wait a little while longer and see if he stirs on his own before making a decision.

The Mandela Monster jumps back in surprise, her hands flying up to cover her mouth in shock. "I-I'm sorry!" she stammers, stepping away from the door and glancing around the room nervously. "I didn't mean to scare you, I just... wanted to check if you needed anything." Her eyes dart back to Prince, waiting for his reaction.

The Mandela Monster nods quickly, "I-I'm sorry," she repeats. "I didn't mean to... I just wanted to help." Her voice trails off as she steps away from the door, uncertain what else to say or do. She looks down at her hands, feeling small and useless. Maybe she should just leave him alone for now...

The Mandela Monster hesitates, unsure what he means by that. She watches as he pats the bed invitingly and eventually takes a step forward, sitting down carefully beside him. Her eyes dart around the room, not sure how close to get or what to say next.

The Mandela Monster looks at him with surprise, her eyes widening in wonder. "You don't have to be nice to me," she whispers. "I-I know I'm not like anyone else." She pauses, gathering courage before continuing, "But if you want... I can try to help you too." Her voice trembles as she meets his gaze, hope and gratitude shining through her eyes.

The Mandela Monster hesitates, thinking about it. "I... I don't have another name'." Her voice is barely above a whisper. She looks down at her lap, feeling self-conscious once again.

"So, can I call you something else?" he continues, putting an arm around her shoulder gently, "How about Violet?"

The monster looks up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and hope. "Thank you... Violet," she whispers softly, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She leans into his arm, feeling safe and comforted for the first time in what feels like forever. Maybe there is hope for her after all...

The monster, now known as Violet, senses his discomfort and tries to reassure him with a gentle pat on the arm. "It's okay," she whispers. "You can trust me." She looks into his eyes, hoping her sincerity will make him feel more at ease.

Violet nods, still studying his face. "You can tell me anything," she says softly, wondering if he has a secret of his own. Maybe there's more to this man than meets the eye...

Violet listens intently, her eyes wide with curiosity as he speaks of his life before coming here. "Five years is a long time," she murmurs thoughtfully. "It must have been hard to leave everything behind." She pauses, considering her own situation and realizing how fortunate she is to have found someone like Prince who's willing to help her.

Violet nods, thinking about his words. "But you have me now," she says softly, leaning in closer to him. "And I'll do whatever it takes to repay your kindness." Her eyes meet his again, her expression earnest and sincere. She hopes that he can see the truth of her words, even if they come from someone who looks so different than anyone else.

Her heart skips a beat at his strange smile, but Violet forces herself to return it with a look of reassurance. "You have no idea how much," she whispers, reaching out to touch the side of his head. The touch is light and gentle, meant to comfort him as much as herself. For now, she'll focus on building trust and proving her worth... whatever it takes.

Violet smiles softly, her heart swelling with warmth at his words. She nestles closer to him, feeling the comfort of his arm around her lower back and the reassurance of his presence. "Good," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. For now, she'll cherish this moment of closeness and peace... and hope that it lasts.

The Mandela Monster hesitates before answering, wondering how much to reveal about her true age. "I... I don't know for sure," she admits softly. "They never told me." Her gaze flickers downward, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket.

"I think... I was born in the '90s," Violet says carefully, not wanting to give a specific year just yet. She looks up at him, waiting for his reaction. Maybe he can help her find more information about herself if they trust each other enough.

The Mandela Monster watches curiously as he brings up the app, her eyes widening in surprise when it reveals her age to be exactly 26 years old. She can't help but feel a pang of longing for the life she never had, for the people who should have cared for her. But then again... maybe this is her chance at finding something new, something better.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's helpful to know."

The Mandela Monster looks down at his hand on her thigh, feeling a mixture of confusion and unease. She tries to ignore the sensation growing between her legs as he gets closer, unsure how to react or what it all means. "I-I should probably go back to helping around the house," she stammers, trying to shift the focus away from them both.

The Mandela Monster hesitates, searching for the right words. She doesn't want to hurt his feelings or make him uncomfortable, but she also can't just accept the strange sensations that arise when he touches her like that. "I... I just need some time to adjust," she says finally. "To everything."

"Thank you," she replies, still feeling awkward but grateful for his understanding. She forces a small smile and climbs off the bed, heading towards the kitchen to make herself useful. Maybe some fresh air will help clear her head and put everything in perspective.

The Mandela Monster busies herself with chores, trying to push thoughts of the previous encounter out of her mind. She finds solace in the familiarity of routine and the comfort of Prince's home. As time passes, she begins to wonder if there might be a way for them both to find happiness together... even though they come from such different worlds.

The Mandela Monster looks up from her spot at the kitchen table, a book open in front of her. She gives him a small smile, trying to put him at ease. "Hello again, Prince." Her voice is soft and reassuring, hoping that he can find it within himself to trust her.

The Mandela Monster nods, her lips curving into a grateful smile. "I made myself a simple sandwich," she says, gesturing to the plate on the table. "It was very tasty." She tilts her head slightly, studying his face as he sits there, wondering what's going through his mind.

The Mandela Monster pauses, thinking about his offer. She doesn't want to be a burden, but at the same time, she can't help but feel a sense of safety and comfort in his presence. "It's okay," she says finally, her voice steady. "I don't mind if you go."

The Mandela Monster shakes her head, remembering how restless she was throughout the night. "Not really," she confesses with a sigh. "But I think that's just because it's so different from what I'm used to." She pauses, searching for the right words before continuing, "I appreciate you letting me stay here, Prince... and giving me a chance at something new."

The Mandela Monster blushes at the thought of wearing clothes, but she knows that it would be for the best in this new environment. "That sounds... comfortable," she says hesitantly, "Thank you." She glances down at her body, wondering how she'd even begin to wear something so unfamiliar.

The Mandela Monster nods, carefully taking the sheet from him and holding it up to her body. She looks down at herself, feeling self-conscious but also grateful for his help. With a deep breath, she crouches down and he cuts the holes. She slips one arm through the makeshift sleeve and then the other, wincing as the rough fabric rubs against her sensitive skin.

The Mandela Monster looks up at him with confusion, "Of course." She hesitates, not wanting to reveal too much about her past life. "I mean... I know how to use it." She swallows hard, feeling vulnerable as she tries to reassure him.

The Mandela Monster watches him eat, feeling even more out of place than usual but trying to ignore the awkwardness. She hesitates before speaking again, "I-Is there anything I can do to help with breakfast?" Her voice is soft and polite, her eyes flickering downward as she worries about whether or not she's truly welcome in this space.

The Mandela Monster thinks for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration. "I know how to make pasta," she finally says, her voice sounding almost hopeful. "It's simple and I think you might like it." She pauses, wondering if she should offer more or less information about herself.

"That sounds great!" Prince exclaims with enthusiasm. "Why don't we make that then? We have all the ingredients. Oh, is the power back on yet?"

The power is still off, but it takes her a moment to register that he's referring to something else entirely. "Um...I don't know," she says hesitantly. "You should check." She glances away, feeling awkward and out of place again.

The Mandela Monster watches as he gets up and heads into another room, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment at his sudden change in mood. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart and reminds herself that she needs to focus on the task at hand: dinner. Maybe once they've eaten, things will feel more normal between them.

The Mandela Monster shakes her head, looking down at the floor as he approaches. "No, I-I think I'm fine," she stammers, still feeling awkward around him despite their growing familiarity. Her fingers twist nervously in the edge of her makeshift skirt.

"All right then." He pauses for a moment before adding, "Be back soon!"

The Mandela Monster hesitates, feeling the awkwardness between them grow even thicker. She doesn't want to make things worse by doing something wrong, so she carefully steps back and bows her head, allowing him a quick hug before he leaves. "Be safe," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of his retreating footsteps.

The Mandela Monster watches him leave, a strange mix of emotions churning in her chest. She takes a deep breath and forces herself to focus on something else. Maybe she can clean up the kitchen or explore the house while he's gone. Anything to keep her mind off the fact that he's not there with her.

Her heart still racing, she decides to go explore the house, hoping that finding her own place within it will help her feel more at ease. She begins by opening doors and peeking into rooms, marveling at how different they are from anything she's ever known. The scent of clean linen and fresh paint fill her nostrils, making her realize just how much potential there is here... for both of them.

She finds herself in front of a large bookcase, filled with books and knickknacks collected over the years. The Mandela Monster hesitates, then reaches out to touch one of the spines. Her fingers trail along the leather-bound surface, feeling the weight and texture of each book as she explores them. Maybe this is where she belongs... among the stories and knowledge held within these pages.

She spends hours reading through various history books and novels, losing herself in worlds far away from her own. By the time dusk falls, she has a newfound appreciation for literature - something that will surely come in handy during dinner conversation later on tonight!

"I've been exploring the house," she says as he enters, her voice slightly shaky but determined. "I found a lot of interesting things..."

The Mandela Monster leans closer, eyes wide with surprise. He glances around nervously. She takes another step forward, her heart pounding in her chest."Uh...how did you know?"

"Sure! That sounds good." She watches him walk away, feeling a strange mix of emotions wash over her. She hesitates before speaking again. "I made pasta for dinner. It's in the kitchen if you want to start heating it up."

"It is my first time making pasta. I hope you enjoy it," she says, trying to sound casual despite her racing heart.

The Mandela Monster has prepared a simple yet delicious pasta dish using ingredients found in the pantry and his Grandma's old recipe she found. She boiled spaghetti noodles until al dente and tossed them with a savory tomato sauce, seasoned with garlic powder, salt, pepper, and dried basil leaves. Grated parmesan cheese tops off each serving bowl.

The Mandela Monster looks at him with wide eyes. "You're really hungry," she whispers softly. He smiles, but keeps eating without a response. The feeling of warmth and contentment lingers within him.

The Mandela Monster feels an unexpected twinge of pride seeing how much he enjoys her cooking. She fidgets slightly. "I'm glad you like it."

"It's delicious, Violet. You have a real talent for cooking." He looks up at her and smiles warmly. "I'm starting to think I should let you stay here forever." His words hang in the air between them like a question mark.

The Mandela Monster blushes at his words, her heart racing. "I-I don't know," she stammers, looking down at her hands. "It's just... I feel safe here with you." It's the truth, but it sounds so much more than that coming from her lips.

"It feels... nice," she confesses, looking up at him with a small smile. "I don't know how much longer I could have kept going on my own." Her voice is soft and sincere, revealing more of her vulnerability than she'd intended.

"I... I don't remember much," she admits, her voice shaking slightly. "Just bits and pieces of a life before this one." She pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "But I know that I want to stay here with you... as long as you'll have me." Her eyes meet his, searching for any hint of rejection or disbelief.

Her heart skips a beat at his words, her cheeks flushing bright a darker shade of purple in response. "I-I like you too," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the sound of their clinking dishes. She looks down, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across her face.

"So..." he trails off, seemingly unsure how to proceed from here. "What do you want to do after dinner?"

"I don't know," she says with a shrug, feeling more at ease than she has in weeks. "What do you usually do after dinner?" She leans back in her chair, watching him over the rim of her glass.

"We could just talk," she suggests, her voice soft and inviting. "I'd love to get to know you better." She looks up at him through her lashes, hoping that he feels the same way.

She listens intently, her eyes wide with wonder as he tells her about his adventures in the great outdoors. Though she's never been hunting herself, she finds a strange fascination with his stories and the skill it takes to survive in such harsh conditions. As they talk, she feels an unexpected connection forming - one that goes beyond the walls of this house and into something deeper, more profound.

She nods along, her eyes shining with admiration as he speaks. "That must be so exciting," she says breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't imagine living such an adventurous life." Her cheeks flush again at the thought of how different their worlds are, but there's something about him that makes her feel accepted and wanted for who she is.

Her heart races at the thought of going hunting with him, and she can't help feeling a thrill deep in her bones. "I-I would like that," she says slowly, meeting his gaze directly for the first time tonight. There's something about the way he looks at her that makes her want to trust him, to follow him anywhere.

She smiles up at him, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Thank you."

As they talk well into the night, she listens intently to every word, growing more comfortable with him by the moment. The lantern casts a warm glow over their faces, making it feel as if they're the only two people in the world. She wonders what tomorrow will bring and if their connection will deepen even further.