Nani the fuck?

I swipe the back of my hand over my bleary eyes and read it again, expecting it to change.

This had to be a virus. Despite the VPN, they'd tracked some late-night porn habits where I followed the darkest paths, no shame, no conscience, just lust. I usually woke up with a mental hangover as bad as the real thing.

The curtains shifted from the fan, letting in a slice of agonizing light, and I decided maybe not exactly as bad as the real thing.

Someone knew about the things I'd come to. I could only hope it was a bot, that no actual people had laid eyes on my searches. If they had... I considered myself difficult to extort or intimidate--I'm a very "fuck you" kind of person when wronged--but if anyone threatened to expose I was into raceplay, I would do just about anything to keep it secret. No one would understand. Hell, I didn't even really understand. Let alone approve.

Sitting up, I tried exiting out of the pop up. Minimizing it. Nothing happened. Fine. I held the power button to restart the phone...and nothing happened.

Oh, fuck. It has frozen up completely.

I'm stomping down a rising panic as I pry the back casing of the phone away. If the message pops up when I put the battery back in, I'm fucked. I can't exactly go to a phone shop and just show this to anyone. I'd just have to consider this phone trash and shut it off, take a hammer to it, maybe.

My fingers pry at the battery in its casing, but my mind has spun off on its own. I'd have to get a whole new one, which meant transferring all my numbers and information manually, getting people's phone numbers again. Fuck. What a drag. But at the very least--

The battery popped free, but the screen didn't wink out. Instead, that same message sat glaring up at me. Without power.

This was...real?

The pieces in my mind shifted slowly, pushing in unnatural configurations. Thinking about the larger implications, about the existence of some supernatural , about them not only noticing me, but approving of my fantasies, was enough to make my head hurt. So instead I kept things simple.

Someone, somehow, was encouraging me to live out my most secret urges. I'd often wondered if, given the opportunity, I would have the strength to resist. Or if I'd fall into depravity the moment I had the chance.

Now I knew.