give up control

Alex carefully placed the box with the pink webcam on his desk. The sparkling packaging design looked out of place in his simple, mostly neutral room. The kittens and little hearts on the box seemed to stare at him mockingly, as if to say, “How did you end up here?” He sank into his chair and stared at the box for a while before sighing and pulling a small knife from his desk drawer to cut through the tape. Opening the package felt like the start of some absurd ritual—like crossing a boundary he should never have dared to cross.

Inside the box lay the webcam: pastel pink, embellished with tiny crystals. Even the connector cable was tied in a kind of silk bow. Alex might have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so serious.

He took out the webcam and placed it carefully on his desk. Next to it lay the matching Bluetooth USB stick, its casing adorned with the same playful patterns. He knew this was the next step: installing the software as the blackmailer had demanded.

With trembling fingers, he plugged the stick into his laptop. A small light at the USB port began to blink, and a window appeared on the screen: “PrincessCam Setup – Welcome, Your Majesty!” The tacky tone of the whole design almost drove him insane. But he had ****. He clicked “Install” and watched the progress bar slowly inch forward.

Alex stared at his laptop screen. The file he’d downloaded from the blackmailer’s email sat on his desktop—an unremarkable icon with a curly crown on it. It might have been a harmless-looking game app, but Alex knew there was something darker lurking beneath.

He double-clicked on it, and immediately a security warning appeared: “Warning: This file could be potentially harmful. Do you want to continue?” Below it was the recommendation to cancel the installation.

Alex gritted his teeth. Any normal person would have stopped at this point. But he had ****. His gaze drifted to the webcam, sitting on his desk in all its pink glory. The blackmailer had left him no alternative—either follow the instructions, or that photo would appear everywhere.

“Damn it,” he muttered before clicking “Continue anyway.”

The installation process started. A progress bar slowly filled, accompanied by brief notices like “Extracting files” and “Adjusting system settings.” Shortly afterward, his phone buzzed as well, where he also had to install the app. Another security warning popped up, and again, Alex ignored it.

When the installation was complete, everything seemed to pause for a moment. Then, suddenly, a window popped up in a glaring pink color, causing Alex to flinch instinctively. The screen glowed in intense hues, and the font was curly and playful. Glittering animations danced across the interface. In the top corner, an icon with a gaudy crown and a cutesy heart stood out.

“Welcome to SissyChat!” read the large letters in the middle of the window. It took a moment for Alex to realize that he was already in a live chat.

Before he could do anything, the first message appeared. It was already typed out, as though the blackmailer had been waiting for this very moment:

“Well, the camera fits you perfectly, doesn’t it? :) Thanks for giving me such obedient access to all your devices. Because you’re such a well-behaved sissy-girl, you’ll get a new assignment tomorrow. Until then: Have fun thinking about it, Princess!”

Alex stared at the message, his heart pounding. The tone was playful, but the words were unmistakable: The blackmailer was now in control. Full access to his devices—that much was clear.

Alex hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Finally, he typed a question: “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me? Money? What’s your plan?”

He waited, the cursor blinking. Seconds passed, feeling like hours. Finally, a new message appeared in the chat:

“:)”

Just a simple smiley. No answer, no explanation—just this disturbingly trivial response. Alex felt as though the ground beneath his feet had vanished. The blackmailer wanted him in complete uncertainty, wanted to wear him down, to strip him of any control.

With shaking hands, Alex closed his laptop and slumped back in his chair. His thoughts were racing. He was trapped—in a game whose rules he didn’t understand and whose outcome he couldn’t control. Tomorrow it would continue; he knew that. But what would the blackmailer demand next? And how could he escape this nightmare?

Alex tossed and turned in his bed. The blanket felt too heavy, his pillow too hot, and his head was a chaotic mess. The glaring pink chat and the blackmailer’s mocking message kept replaying in his mind. “The camera fits you perfectly, right?” He could almost hear the laughter behind those words.

Who was behind all of this? He searched his memory for clues, possible suspects from school. Was it Isabella? She had shown before how mean she could be, especially toward her own sister. But even Isabella didn’t seem like the type to go this far. This felt different, more personal. Yet nobody at school seemed to know him well enough to target him so precisely.

The longer he thought about it, the more his suspicion shifted in another direction. Suddenly, Miriam loomed larger in his thoughts. Time and again he found himself concluding that this might have something to do with her. She was the one who had pushed him into doing that damn assignment, the one who had led him to that photo. She was always strangely attentive, seeming to oversee everything that happened in his life. And then there was this form of control she exercised—subtle, but ever-present. Miriam was perfect at showing a pleasant face while she pulled her own strings in the background.

Alex felt his hands clenching into fists. “This is all her fault,” he thought angrily. She had **** him into that elite school, treated him like an accessory that didn’t fit into her perfect world. Maybe this was just another way of humiliating him, making it clear that he would never really belong. She’d always known how to manipulate him, even if he often realized it too late.

But this time was too much. This was more than a cold remark or a scornful look. This was personal. And he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

He turned onto his side, staring at the shadows cast on his bedroom wall by the streetlamp. Should he confront her? Maybe she had nothing directly to do with the blackmailer, but she was the reason he was in this situation in the first place. If he hadn’t gone to this school, there would have been no photo, no webcam, no blackmailer. She had triggered this nightmare, whether consciously or unconsciously.

Another question gnawed at him: Should he pay her back for this? Maybe he could get back at her. Do something to show her how it felt when someone put you in a position you couldn’t control. The thought felt dangerous, almost like a forbidden game. But it was also tempting. Why should he be the only one suffering in this situation?

Yet before he could make a decision, he felt exhaustion slowly taking hold of him. His thoughts grew heavier, swallowed by a fog. The anger, the uncertainty, the fear—all piled on top of each other until he could no longer think clearly. Eventually, he fell asleep, with a flickering spark of resolve deep inside him: He would confront Miriam. And maybe, just maybe, she would understand that she had messed with the wrong person.

Alex jolted awake when his phone suddenly vibrated on the nightstand, a glaring pink light illuminating the room. His heart pounded, and for a moment, he thought he was still trapped in a dream. But reality caught up with him quickly as he recognized the familiar, bright interface of the SissyChat on the display.

With sweaty hands, he reached for the phone. A new message flashed up, its writing curly and excessively cutesy, but the content made Alex’s blood run cold.

**“Good morning, Princess! You’re such a good girl that we’re going to have a little late-night session now. I have a task for you:

You will MASTURBATE RIGHT NOW.

After that, you will take a nice, long bubble bath. Use your new Mommy’s shampoos and soaps.

For your entertainment, I’ve included a link to a suitable video—something perfect for a sissy like you.

All the while, you will SMILE, Princess. Always.

And of course, keep your phone and your webcam on so I can be sure you’re following my instructions. :)

Oh, and in case you get any silly ideas: I’d be happy to remind you that your little photo is still ready to be shared with the world. So don’t disappoint me, Princess.”**

Alex’s breathing grew shallow, and his fingers trembled as he finished reading the message. The words were so diminutive, so ridiculously playful, yet there was a clear, destructive power behind them. It wasn’t just a demand—it was a humiliation, wrapped in childish mockery. The tone made it obvious that the blackmailer saw Alex as a toy, something to be manipulated at will.

Alex’s thoughts spiraled. Masturbate? Take a bubble bath? And all of it on camera? It was disgusting, humiliating—an absolute nightmare. His eyes flicked nervously to the webcam on his desk. Its little pink light was off, but he knew the blackmailer could activate it at any time.

He swallowed hard. His hands clenched into fists. “Why is he doing this?” he thought desperately. What was the purpose behind this perverse control? Did the blackmailer want money? Or was it all just a sick pastime?

The threat at the end of the message burned into his consciousness. “In case you get any silly ideas…” He knew what that meant. The photo would be made public. Everything he had—his already shaky position at school, his already strained relationship with Miriam—would be completely destroyed. He could already see the spiteful faces of his classmates, the embarrassing comments, the whispering behind his back.

But at the same time, a wave of anger washed over him. Why was he letting this happen? Why should he dance to the tune of some anonymous sadist? But what could he do? Every option seemed to drag him deeper into this spiral.

Alex set the phone down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of his bed. He buried his face in his hands, trying to control his breathing. His mind raced, desperately searching for a way out, but time was ticking. The blackmailer was waiting—maybe already watching. And Alex knew he couldn’t hesitate forever.

Alex stared at the link in the message. His thoughts whirled, but he kept coming to the same conclusion: He had ****. The blackmailer had backed him into a corner, and any chance of fighting back seemed out of reach. With a resigned sigh, he tapped on the link, which led him to a video.

To his surprise, it looked like a normal porn video at first glance. The picture quality was good, the room lit in warm light, and everything seemed fairly routine—nothing immediately repulsive. But the blackmailer wouldn’t have chosen it out of sheer kindness. Something about it had to be off. Alex swallowed hard, closed the message, and instead opened his laptop.

He turned on the webcam, ready to get this nightmare over with. But as the screen lit up, the floor seemed to drop out from under him. His desktop background was no longer the neutral standard motif he’d set before. Instead, it was the photo that had gotten him into this mess: him as a child in a silly princess dress, holding a teacup, smiling with his mother next to him.

Alex felt heat rising to his face. The blackmailer didn’t just have access to his devices—he had him entirely in his grasp. That picture was now everywhere on his computer. It was a brutal reminder that Alex couldn’t do anything without being watched.

With trembling hands, he undressed. The feeling of being watched pressed down on him, and yet he switched on the webcam, just as the blackmailer had demanded. His bare skin felt like a second layer of shame in the cool air of his room as he nervously took his place in front of the camera.

He started the video. It showed a woman and a man kissing passionately at first. But something was off: while the woman’s upper body and breasts, as well as her lower body, were completely censored, the man was shown in full detail—his erect penis almost exaggeratedly prominent.

Alex felt a knot in his stomach. It was a normal porno—distorted in a very unsettling way. It was as if the blackmailer had chosen it intentionally to torment him. Still, he began, as instructed, to touch himself. He **** himself to smile—a fake, strained grin that barely concealed his growing despair.

The minutes crawled by painfully slowly. Alex felt his face cramp from keeping up that smile. Every glance at the screen reminded him that he was no longer in control. This video, its bizarre censorship, this laughable farce—it was all part of a perverse game designed to humiliate him.

As the climax of the video neared, Alex mechanically sped up his motions, his smile growing even more rigid as he felt the camera watching him. The thought that the blackmailer could see him was like a shadow enveloping him.

After an agonizing eternity, it was over. Alex let his hand drop and breathed heavily, his face burning with shame and humiliation. Yet he knew the nightmare wasn’t finished. He would have to wait for the next message, the next task that would drag him further down into this dark spiral.

Alex pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt to head to the bathroom. His steps were heavy, almost mechanical, and every breath felt like a burden. In his hand, he held his phone, its pink chat screen accompanying him like a looming shadow. The blackmailer’s message had been clear: a bubble bath, Miriam’s shampoo, and always a smile – while the camera was rolling.

Once he reached the bathroom, he placed the phone on the sink’s shelf. With trembling fingers, he adjusted the camera so that it captured the entire bathtub. The blackmailer would see that he did everything asked of him. Alex felt a bitter taste in his mouth. “I hope this will be over soon,” he thought, though deep down he knew this was only the beginning.

He turned on the water and grabbed the shampoos and bath additives that Miriam had meticulously lined up beside the tub. Expensive brands with elegant packaging, which she never failed to show off to guests. One had a gentle lavender scent, another smelled sweetly of vanilla. Alex gritted his teeth as he looked at the bottles. “Her perfect, artificial world,” he thought bitterly. And now he was **** to be part of it—in the most humiliating way possible.

He poured generously from one bottle into the water, and foam began to form quickly. The air filled with a heavy floral scent that almost made him gag. Slowly, Alex undressed, trying to ignore the ever-present gaze of the camera.

He stepped carefully into the tub. The warm water enveloped him, and the foam spread across his skin. It could have been soothing, almost pleasant, if not for the relentless presence of the phone on the shelf. The camera was pointed at him, and Alex knew the blackmailer was watching every movement, every hesitation, every detail.

Taking a deep breath, he **** himself to put on a fake smile. His lips twisted into a stiff, artificial grimace that couldn’t hide his shame and anger for a single moment. He felt like a puppet whose strings were being pulled by an invisible puppeteer.

The foam clung to his skin as he tried to appear as though he was enjoying the bath. But in his head, his thoughts raged: “Why me? Why is he doing this? What does he really want from me?” The uncertainty was worse than anything else. Without answers, he was completely at someone else’s mercy.

The warm water slowly began to relax his muscles, but inside, his anger continued to boil—anger at the blackmailer, at this absurd situation, and especially at Miriam. “This is all her fault,” he thought again. “Without her, I wouldn’t be here. Without her, my life wouldn’t be such a damn mess.”

Alex leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. The artificial smile remained on his face, but his thoughts began to drift further and further away. “Maybe this is the only way,” he thought cynically. “Maybe I just have to do it until he’s had enough. Maybe then he’ll finally leave me alone.”

But deep down, he knew the nightmare wouldn’t end so quickly.

When Alex finally climbed out of the bathtub, he felt drained, as if the water had washed not only the foam off his skin but also the last remnant of his dignity. The artificial smile he had kept up throughout the entire ordeal disappeared the moment he turned off the camera. He grabbed a towel, dried himself, and hurriedly pulled on comfortable sweatpants and a plain shirt.

But as he dried his hair, the scent of the expensive shampoos he had been **** to use lingered in the air. Lavender and vanilla, interwoven with a floral note—exactly how Miriam always smelled. Alex felt a wave of nausea rise inside him. “Now I even smell like her,” he thought in disgust. It was as though the blackmailer had **** yet another triumph upon him, as though he had broken down Alex’s last barrier of self-respect.

He left the bathroom and headed to his room. The phone, now back in his hand, felt heavy, as though it carried all his burdens. Barely had he closed the door behind him when it vibrated in his hand. A new message had appeared in the chat.

“Well, princess, how was your bubble bath? Do you smell nice now, like your mommy? ;) You’re such a good girl. I hope you enjoyed focusing on your first cock. Pretty exciting, right? But don’t worry: I’ll leave you alone for now. Enjoy it—you’ve got until school starts. We’ll see each other again soon, princess.”

Alex stared at the message, the words burning themselves into his mind. His breathing turned shallow, and his heart pounded against his chest. The mockery, the innuendo, the complete control the blackmailer had over him—it was like the nightmare was burrowing ever deeper. He felt humiliated, exposed, and powerless.

“Until school starts…” That meant at least a few hours of peace. But what then? Would the blackmailer contact him again? Would it get even worse? Alex couldn’t think straight anymore. The idea that this madness might continue robbed him of sleep.

He fell onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. The scent of Miriam’s shampoos still clung to him, an unwelcome reminder of what had just happened. “Why me?” he thought in desperation. “What did I do to deserve this?”

But he knew there would be no answer—not now, not from the blackmailer. And so he lay there, eyes fixed on the darkness, desperately trying not to think about tomorrow, which would surely pull him into the next round of this cruel game.

Alex had barely slept. The few times he drifted off, he was plagued by disjointed dreams in which he kept rereading the blackmailer’s message or humiliating himself in front of a camera. When the alarm finally rang, he felt as though he’d worked through the entire night. He sat up wearily, and the sweet scent of lavender and vanilla still lingered around him like an invisible cloud.

“Will this ever disappear?” he wondered as he got dressed in fresh clothes. He sniffed his arm, wincing in disgust. The smell wasn’t just present—it was downright intrusive. “Great,” he muttered sarcastically. “Now I’ll smell like Miriam all day.”

When he entered the kitchen, Miriam was already sitting at the table, perfectly styled as always. Her hair was sleek and blow-dried, her makeup flawless, and she wore an elegant dress that flaunted her high status. She looked up from her cup of tea as Alex walked in, raising her eyebrows immediately.

“Well, that’s an interesting scent,” she said, amused, taking a sip from her cup. “Is that… my shampoo?”

Alex froze. His face grew hot, and he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. He had hoped she wouldn’t notice, but of course that was impossible. She probably knew this scent better than anyone.

“Uh… yeah,” he said at last, trying to sound casual. “My shampoo was empty, and I didn’t want to go to school stinking. So I used yours.”

Miriam blinked, set her cup down, and pushed her chair back a little, as though she wanted a closer look at him. Her eyes scanned him from head to toe, and Alex felt his nerves tighten.

“Interesting,” she finally said, drawing out the word. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d go for… flowery scents.”

Alex rolled his eyes inwardly, trying to remain outwardly calm. “I don’t like it,” he muttered, taking a seat at the table. “It was just the only thing there.”

Miriam smiled, but it was that typical, knowing smile that drove him crazy. She placed her perfectly manicured hands flat on the table and tilted her head slightly. “Well, maybe let me know next time you need something. I could get you a new shampoo that suits you better. Lavender and vanilla are indeed… special.”

Alex pursed his lips and focused on eating his breakfast, doing so mechanically. He wanted to end the conversation before it went in a direction that would embarrass him further. But Miriam couldn’t resist pricking him with a few more pointed remarks.

“You know, Alex,” she finally said, her smile almost too friendly. “I actually think the scent really suits you. It’s… refreshing to see you so well-groomed for a change.”

Alex bit his tongue to keep from saying something he’d regret. Instead, he gulped down the rest of his breakfast, mumbled a short “Thanks,” and stood up.

“I gotta go,” he said curtly, grabbing his backpack. Miriam watched him as he rushed to the door, and Alex still felt her gaze on him as he walked down the hallway. It was as though she knew more than she let on—or at least suspected that there was more to the story.

When Alex closed the front door behind him and inhaled the cool morning air, he felt a momentary sense of relief. But the sweet scent that still clung to him reminded him that the nightmare was far from over. “I can get through the day,” he told himself. “I just have to get through it.”

Alex walked quickly to the bus stop, still accompanied by the sweet scent of lavender and vanilla. He couldn’t stop sniffing himself, hoping that the smell might have faded, but it was no use—it was unmistakable. As he walked, a thought suddenly shot through his mind: “I wanted to confront Miriam!”

He stopped short, furrowing his brow, a mixture of frustration and guilt washing over him. He had sworn yesterday that he would confront her, make it clear she was to blame for all of this. But amid the blackmailer’s absurd demands and his constant fear of being exposed, it had slipped from his mind. “Damn it,” he muttered. “I’ll do it later. Tonight. I swear.”

Resolving this, he continued on and just barely caught the bus. As usual, it was loud and crowded, but Alex had only passed the front rows when he spotted Tessa, who grinned at him from one of the back seats. She waved at him casually, and Alex sighed inwardly. Of course she’d ask about his scent right away—she wasn’t the type to ignore something like that.

“Hey, you scented candle!” Tessa called as he approached. She grinned broadly, sizing him up as he plopped down next to her. “What’s with the new look? You smell like a flower shop.”

Alex felt his cheeks burn. “Uh… I ran out of shampoo,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “That was the only stuff left.”

Tessa raised an eyebrow, leaned back, and chuckled softly. “Really? You’re using lavender-vanilla shampoo? That’s a riot.”

“I didn’t want to come to school stinking,” Alex defended himself, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Tessa was having fun, and she wouldn’t let it go so easily.

“Hey, don’t worry,” she finally said, winking at him. “It’s better than smelling like sweat and forgotten laundry like the others. A bit of lavender never hurt anyone.”

Alex rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a small smile. Tessa had a way of making things seem less terrible, even when she was teasing him. “Thanks, I guess,” he murmured, pulling his backpack onto his lap to distract himself a bit.

“No problem, princess,” she added playfully, laughing when Alex shot her an annoyed look. “But seriously—you kinda make it work. Maybe you should do it more often.”

“Forget it,” Alex responded drily, though he couldn’t help letting out a soft laugh. Despite everything, it was somewhat comforting that Tessa didn’t take him too seriously. It might have been the only positive thing on this otherwise disastrous morning.