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Chapter 12 by NicoleStar NicoleStar

What kind of pic did you send?

Of course, a dick pic

You’re buzzing with adrenaline, the back-and-forth with Mary heating your blood faster than the cheap wine sitting on your desk. The bold little devil in your head whispers, go bigger. You grin, reckless and smug, convinced this is the moment to really flip the script.

You: “Bet I can make challenge four unforgettable. Wanna see me completely uncensored?”

Before the rational part of your brain can slam the brakes, you’ve already angled your phone down, adjusted the lighting like it’s some half-assed photoshoot, and—snap. The screen freezes on it for a second. Your thumb hovers, heart pounding, then send.
The second it leaves your phone, a wave of cold sweeps over you. What felt daring two seconds ago suddenly feels insane. You sit there, staring at the screen like you just hurled a grenade into her inbox.
The typing bubble doesn’t appear. Nothing. You tell yourself she’s just stunned. That she’s impressed. That she’s opening the picture slowly, savoring the surprise.

Mary: “…seriously?”

A few beats later:

Mary: “Wow. Just wow. That’s your idea of a ‘challenge’? Sending your dick to strangers?”

Your chest burns, but instead of shutting up, pride digs its claws in.

You: “Strangers? Come on, we’ve been vibing all night. Thought you’d appreciate the… uh, enthusiasm.”

Silence. The little gray “seen” checkmark stares back at you like an executioner’s glare. Then—another ping.

Mary: “Enthusiasm? Dude, that was pathetic. Gross. You just failed every challenge in one move. Bye.”

Her profile vanishes from the top of your match list like smoke sucked out of a window. A new notification pops up instantly:
Your account has been reported for inappropriate content. Multiple reports may lead to suspension.

You sit there, pants still half-unzipped, your phone’s glow turning your smug grin into a grimace. The app feels radioactive in your hand now, like it’s mocking you with the silence left behind.
For all the smooth banter, the flexed selfies, the tiny victories—you detonated it all with one impulsive, pixelated mistake. Mary’s gone. And your dick pic is probably getting roasted in some group chat as you sulk in the dark.

What's next?

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