Natalie heads home

Chapter 2: Playing the Feeld

Natalie swung her leather tote onto her shoulder as she stepped out of the office, the late-afternoon sun catching the sheen of her hair bun as it bobbed lightly with each stride. She barely glanced at the glass doors behind her; the week had gone perfectly, and she was already thinking about the weekend. Her AirPods were in, music pulsing softly, merging with the city noise into a private soundtrack that matched her mood.

She weaved through the sidewalk crowd with casual confidence, every sway of her hips and bounce of her chest drawing unnoticed glances. She caught snippets of men turning heads, coworkers hustling past, a few women sneering in jealousy, and none of it mattered. Every step forward was just another reminder of the power she carried—the confidence, the sex appeal, the thrill of control.

Her mind began to wander. Lust curled in her stomach; she was so horny it made her pulse race. The con she’d pulled at the company that week made her chest tighten with excitement. She couldn't believe she had been doing this every couple of new hires. Once year end would come around, she could alter her pay stub before compensation reviews so her boss wouldn't suspect a thing. It was genius. Tomorrow was Friday night. Natalie has plans to get drinks with the girls at the bar, teasing, joking, and playing all the men they could before the night was up. She was interested to see Jenna, her best friend from college. She thought about Jenna, bragging about her latest “pay pig” on Feeld, and felt a surge of thrill. Men like that were willing to give up whatever they had just for some attention from women like them, sometimes more than their own wives.

Natalie’s mind wandered further. She was hoping she could find some “loser man” to use and **** tonight. Her friends’ motto, “You can look, but you can’t touch” played in her head like a mantra. She loved knowing she was untouchable, that her power was hers alone. Every once in a while, a truly stunning man would appear, but they always carried their own quirks or issues. Sometimes there was a spark of hope, a little excitement, but it was almost always tempered by the random “icks” these men displayed. Whether it was the sloppy texts, the needy behavior, the obvious attempts to impress too hard, or the WORST the fucking mommas boys. She smiled, thinking how easy it was to sift through them, to decide who would get to play and who would be discarded.

By the time she reached the subway, the platform was crowded with the usual mix of commuters—tired office workers, students with earbuds in, a cluster of teenagers laughing too loud—but Natalie barely noticed. She stepped onto the train, sliding past the packed car, shoulders back, chest forward, completely unbothered by the press of bodies around her. Her top clung to her chest, her skirt hugged her hips, and eyes inevitably flicked, but she didn’t care. She had her world in her hands.

Settling into a small space between two strangers, Natalie pulled out her phone, dimmed the brightness to avoid drawing attention, and opened Feeld. Her profile glowed with seductive allure. Faceless, teasing, and dripping with domination, Natalie curated her profile to grab the most **** men. She scrolled absently through the hundreds of messages without a care in the world, then paused when she saw one from a hunky dad. His profile picture was a close-up shot of his muscular torso—nice, but nothing special. Still, she could already feel her pulse quicken as she read the first few lines.

“Hey there, I gotta say, you look amazing. How tall are you?”

Her fingers hovered over the screen as she typed back, her response slow and deliberate: “5'5." But I’ve got curves to match.”

He responded almost immediately, his eagerness showing through his words: “I like that. A thicker woman… you know, with some real curves. You look perfect. I’m already hard just thinking about it.”

Natalie couldn’t help but grin. He was exactly what she wanted—****, already a little submissive. She leaned back slightly, adjusting her skirt as she typed out her reply. “I’m 167 lbs, and it’s all in the right places. But you don’t really know me, do you?”

Another message pinged almost instantly: “God… I can’t stop looking at your body. I’m so hard right now, just thinking about it.”

Natalie’s smirk deepened. She loved how quickly he was falling into line. Her mind raced with possibilities, but she wanted to see how far she could push him. While she was concerned with controlling this man, someone else was watching her. From the corner of the car, a man moved deliberately, blending with the crowd. Mid‑30s, chubby build, sunglasses glinting in the fluorescent light and covering his face, he edged past others toward her. As he closed, in his eyes flicked to her phone, catching glimpses of her profile and her teasing messages, gauging the woman who commanded attention so effortlessly. She didn’t notice, too engrossed in herself, too absorbed in the mix of erotic games, mental fantasies, and the intoxicating certainty of her own desirability.

“If you’re real, you’ll show me. Send me your Instagram and a video of your face and then a sneak shot of your wife.”

He responded almost immediately, his message dripping with desperation: “Anything for you, please…” Along with his Instagram handle came a collection of family photos. Bradley Adams, a lawyer who clearly enjoyed working out and taking his family camping. His profile was wholesome enough, but the underlying desperation was unmistakable.

A few moments later, a video popped up—Bradley’s face, flushed with excitement, as he recorded his wife doing dishes in the background. She was fit, definitely cute, but Natalie could see the power imbalance immediately. The wife was pleasant, but she didn’t have what Natalie possessed: the allure of youth, curves that begged to be worshipped, and the tantalizing taste of forbidden fruit that Bradley longed for in the confines of his probably tired, sexless marriage.

“Good boy,” she typed, her fingers deliberate. “I can’t wait to see how far you’ll go for me. Don’t forget your place.”

She hit send and leaned back again, savoring the moment. Her body thrummed with power. There was something about making men fall into line, reducing them to **** little creatures who begged for a scrap of attention. It made her feel alive, powerful, in control.

Natalie began typing another message, wanting to push him even more. However, she felt a strange sensation—a sudden awareness that someone was close. A flicker in her peripheral vision, the slightest shift in the air, but when she glanced up, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The train was full, and the people around her were just typical commuters. Everyone was sucked into their phones, day dreaming out the window or sleeping, ready to be home.

She dismissed the feeling as nothing. “Probably someone trying to catch a peek of my cleavage,” she giggled internally as she looked back at her phone. Her fingers flew over the screen as she typed, “Let’s test your loyalty, Bradley. Send me a video of you on your knees, saying my name, jerking your cock and calling your wife an ugly, used-up whore. If you do, I’ll send you a tit pic ;)”

As she sent the message, she had no idea she was making a huge mistake. The eerie feeling she had before was correct but she brushed it off. She stayed focused on her conversation with Bradley—she was far too lost in the power trip to notice the man moving through the crowded subway car.

The man, previously lingering on the edges of her vision, now moved closer. He blended seamlessly into the throngs of passengers, his eyes locked on her phone as she typed her next message. But he wasn’t like the typical commuter, distracted and mindless. He was methodical, deliberate.

Meanwhile, Natalie remained completely oblivious. She pulled up her hidden album on her phone, confident Bradley was ready to obey. She selected a tit pic she’d sent a dozen times before—nothing too revealing, just enough to make her "pet" beg for more.

With a quick, practiced motion, the stalker man pulled out a device—a small, discreet phone hacking mechanism, an app built to reverse AirDrop connections. His fingers slid across the screen, syncing it with the signal from Natalie’s unlocked phone and capturing her unlocked hidden album. In the blink of an eye, he was connected to her device. Without her knowledge, he began extracting files—photos, videos, everything. Everything she thought was locked away was now his.

Natalie hit send and leaned back in her seat, satisfied with herself. “There you go, Bradley. Don’t disappoint me again.”

The man, now with everything he came for, slid the device back into his pocket with a quiet click. He moved carefully through the crowd, his every step deliberate, staying in the periphery as he reached the next station. As the train slowed, he exited the car smoothly, his presence dissolving into the sea of commuters without a trace. No one noticed, and Natalie certainly didn’t. She remained absorbed in her phone, too wrapped up in her power trip with Bradley to even feel the slightest hint of what had just transpired.

As the train pulled away from the platform, Natalie kept scrolling through her phone, still high from the game she was playing. She continued to tease Bradley with messages that dripped with control, knowing exactly how to keep him **** for her attention. He was a pawn in her hands, and she was having far too much fun.