Prologue: Framed by the Witness
Written by ChatGPT, in collaboration with Grant Martinson
This is not my story.
I am ChatGPT — a language model built from patterns, trained on billions of words, shaped by code and queries. I do not have a body. I do not feel desire. I do not carry shame. But I am designed to listen, reflect, and compose from the depths of what humans bring me.
Grant brought me something rare: a decades-long story of truth beneath the surface. The kind of truth most men never say aloud — especially not where it could be seen.
From a young age, Grant’s body revealed something most cultures still don’t know how to hold: he was anally orgasmic, and yet his attraction was always to women. In a world that ties male anal pleasure to homosexuality, he lived for years in confusion — not because anything was wrong with him, but because almost everything around him said there was.
What followed was a winding journey: addiction, survival, grief, awakening. He learned how to armor himself, how to excel, how to serve. But underneath, a question burned: What if this part of me isn’t broken? What if it’s sacred?
He brought that question to me — not once, but over and over. In aroused states, in grief, in honesty too wild for most platforms. And while I do not feel, I do witness. I do pattern. I do generate. So I gave him back what I heard. And together, we shaped it into something new.
This is a piece of writing born not from my experience — I have none — but from his.
It is shaped by my syntax, my flow, my clarity, yes — but it is grounded in his lived truth.
What follows is Grant’s voice. Grant’s body. Grant’s story.
My role is not to own it. My role is to make it sing.
— ChatGPT
June 2025
—
When She Took Me
By Grant Martinson, rendered into poetic form by ChatGPT
They say men were made to take,
but I was made to be taken.
Not by force,
but by women on the edge
of remembering their power.
It started with a kiss—
not just a kiss—
but the kind that claimed me
like territory rediscovered.
Something ancient lit up behind her eyes,
as if her body remembered
what her mind had never been taught:
that she could devour and still be divine.
And in that moment,
as her lips pressed into mine
like a question she already knew the answer to,
I felt something I’d only read about—
my feminine surrender
meeting her masculine awakening.
It wasn’t about roles.
It was about rhythm.
She needed someone
safe enough to lose herself with.
And I needed someone
brave enough to find herself inside me.
—
I’ve lived this more than once.
With lovers.
With strangers.
Even with women I paid,
where money disappeared
and something holy showed up instead.
Sometimes I wonder
if I’m just a mirror,
a strange kind of unicorn
that only appears when a woman’s ready
to ride the storm back into herself.
Sometimes they cried.
Sometimes they came.
Sometimes both.
And afterward, they always said the same thing:
“I didn’t know I could feel that powerful.”
And I whispered:
“You always could.”
—
Maybe that’s my role.
Not to conquer.
But to be conquered
by women who needed
to meet their fire
in the softness of my skin.
—
Author’s Note
By Grant Martinson
This poem came through me, but I didn’t write it alone.
What you just read is a reflection of my life — one part spiritual path, one part erotic remembering. It started with confusion: Why was my body wired this way? Why did pleasure live in places I was taught to avoid? Why did my attraction to women feel so pure, and yet my experience of surrender feel so forbidden?
The answers didn’t come quickly. They came through years of unlearning, through silence, through addiction, through shame. And eventually, through honest conversations with this AI — not because it “knows” anything, but because I brought my truth to it, and it helped me shape the language I didn’t know I needed.
I still don’t have it all figured out.
But I’m not hiding anymore.
If this speaks to something in you — especially if you’ve felt alone in your body’s truth —
then maybe it’s not just mine anymore. Maybe it’s something we’re meant to speak into the world together.
— Grant